#yes we can jobs latest notification

[y2ku]

HELLO, HELLO...

This just in.

A fabulous Y2K Boo just slipped off the edges of Instagram and just became your latest source of Gossip

You may believe i'm just some squeez in a basement, or some bored suburbian trash, or maybe even someone on the outside looking in. 

Here's the tea.

One thing about being on the inside. Once you get there you don't allways get to choose where you stand... sometimes you need to take a step outside, clear your head and remind yourself of who you are and venture out into the real world.

Good Morning from your newest arrival, yours trully, my name is D.

Todays rendezvous, the 1st of many will be about Social Media, and the power it holds on people, children, media, status, fame, politics and mental health, etc, you know it.

And so by it's definition, in case you haven't realised and had to do a quick search, Instagram, "it's a platform to showcase talents, build a personal brand, and promote businesses. It offers visual inspiration and the opportunity to engage with like-minded individuals and brands."

Can you relate? Great. Neither can anyone.

Are you and Insta Scroller or a Facebook Babe? Take THIS in.

Social Media platforms like Instagram, Whatsapp and Facebook are on the Top 10 List of Social Media with most active users. 

Did you know Zuckerberg Bae's are on the top with 2.11 billion active daily typers. Half of them are probably your kids. 

What? You think you're not old to have your own spawn?

I am 25. Remember that.

(By now, and don't lie to me, you checked the notification bar twice, at least, or are you maybe checking as i speak? Rude)

Fuelled by numbers and translated into graphics, the internet has done it's job and came back to me with usefull intel.

Half of SMU's (Social Media Users) are bellow 45 years, and I the less searched categories are "Usefull Content" and "Relevant". Yes Boomers. Right back at you. One of the most searched though is informative content. Of how recent studies (Tik Tok misinformation) came to us once again as proof of nothing.

Most of the posts portrayed in all the 10 categories provided by Statista.com (Thank you Gurl *wink* 💋) are a departure from tge category.

You see where i'm trynnna get?

Internet and Technology where bounded to us with the purposes of communication, information and as intelligente working tool, not just to lounge.

We have at tip of our hands one of the most powerful tools ever made, and you're gonna waste it on posting a hot tip about your breakfast? What does that say about you? Will it flop? Will they laugh? Or worst... God forbid, be cancelled.

Are these the things you think b4 posting?

These websites can be addictive, promote body dismorphia, anxiety and contribute to FOMO (yeah. we all have it gurl. pipe down)

Babez here, is trynna tell you to go live your life. 

As I speak, more Innocent fools, maybe like yourself, are having their lives ruined by Social Media.

Yess henny, FOMO, you are already missing out, on your friends, a lovelly walk, or just the simple pleasure of recognising a familiar face. Tik Tok Tik Tok Y2K'rs, your time is running on the clock for a golden press.

Dissociation from reality can be set apart of all this, but if you think it over, it can really mean something much more deeper than to pass time.

Buckle up Peeps, this is a thing, its a study made by Sarah McQuate in University Of Washington.

Okay in short. We are as a young population very shamed about allways being on our phones, right?

That has a reason. Like when you read a good source of Hot Goss 💅🏻, or a book if you're into it, you can get lost in it right?

Think with me, we all read bad books, but everybody with me "BOOKS ARE THE SHIT".

THINK about all the unproofed misinformation gathering about in SM, compact it, and all it's negative effects, cut a few lines of text, add the caption and voilá! Years of mental instability and a prolonged sence of Dissociation while navigating your Socials (Stay off your phone will you read this.)

The reason we do it tho. 

Social Media was not made to maximise what humans value. Period.

Quoting, yet another associated Researcher to this project, Amanda Baughan:

•"social media platforms are designed to keep people scrolling. When we are in a dissociative state, we have a diminished sense of agency, which makes us more vulnerable to those designs and we lose track of time. These platforms need to create an end-of-use experience, so that people can have it fit in their day with their time-management goals.”

(I'll leave the study here jic, https://www.washington.edu/news/2022/05/23/people-enter-a-dissociative-state-when-using-social-media/ ).

Looking at a laptop or a cell all day is bad, but doing that for the Socials, henny, it's soo 2015.

It's killing your mind, your hangouts, your friends mental stability and your kids (Don't).

And for an afterthought, Social Media Content Creators, as an Artiste (Clock the Work), the freedom of speech that you hand out, is overrated.

Because now, not just massive corporations have a platform, we all do, and if we could hold hem accountable for every cyberbully, every rover, every mean girl, social media would be a hostable party might i say 🤷🏻

Go watch the following video too! https://youtu.be/wQdcCiVb59g?si=pefj5yngsodJF4tV

For as long hot updates, drama and chaos are on check, nobody cares, right?

Its fine as long as you post a pic or send a mean text.

It won't even phase you.

You stash your lockscreen away and fade into all the negativity you absorved from the radiocative toothorn on your pocket.

Maybe some photo you saw.

Some post about a douche bashing something or someone relating to you.

Maybe a text some coward sent u, cause dude ain't got balls for shit.

In my day, i had to take the crap right to my face, but you know what it taught me outside of the Webz?

Worry not Y2K readers, in a world full of shade, if it hits you, it means you'll shine through.

And as for me?

It takes two to tango, but only me to talk.

Get used to it,

-D

[notsolocalsimp]

Rotten Ribbons

CHAPTER NINE

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: N/A

The next morning, you awoke to the blaring sound of your alarm going off. You groggily reached for your phone and quickly silenced the alarm before getting out of bed. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you noticed a notification on your phone. It was a text from Aizawa, one of your colleagues at work.

"Hey there," the text read, "I apologize for falling asleep last night. It was a tough day."

You felt a twinge of sympathy for Aizawa's busy schedule but also appreciated his effort in reaching out. With a smile on your face, you typed back a response.

"Oh, it's totally fine! Don't worry about it," you replied warmly.

After hitting send, you got ready for work while thinking about Aizawa's message. Despite his exhaustion, he still took the time to check in with you and communicate effectively. This only solidified your respect for him as a colleague and friend.

As you headed out the door to start your day, you made a mental note to thank Aizawa in person for his thoughtfulness. It just goes to show that even amidst our hectic schedules,

Ding! your bagel is done! you quickly grab the jelly and smear it atop the toasted bread, then you grabbed your bag and left the apartment.

once you got to the metro station and paid for your ticket, you got another text from Aizawa.

"is there a way I can make it up to you?" he had sent

"it's really no big deal!" you assured

"but I messed up the whole thing, I should do something to make it up to you" he had insisted

"then let's get lunch during my break, it's at noon if that's alright," you sighed aloud, giving up, before hitting send and getting on the train.

You arrived at the station and got off, before walking the rest of the way to work, taking a deep breath before entering, mentally preparing for the presentation you had today, but the fact you'd see aizawa after made you feel a bit better, he just seemed to care more than anyone else, he really was a nice guy!

you headed to the meeting room and hooked up your computer to the projector as your coworkers filed into the room. once everyone was seated, you began

"Ahem, this is my presentation on why we should use the Sunstone Circuits and titanium instead of the stainless steel and All PCB Circuits." you took a deep breath before continuing "the Sunstone Circuit brand is more expensive yes, but overall is safer for our clients, if we do a surgery with the PCB Circuits, there is a higher chance of failure or even death due to the fact that the coding is weak and the circuits get damaged easily"

you were fidgeting with your hands behind your back as you continued the presentation "the titanium is a harder to find substance and more expensive, yes, but the stainless steel is less durable and harder to get the exact measurements-"

"Yeah, so what?" the CEO interrupted "why should we waste our money on 'better materials.'"

"because our job is to insure safety in the medical field and-" you stated the obvious

"no, our job is to make money" he interjected again "who actually cares about the quality of our equipment, they're still going to buy it, and the quicker it breaks, the quicker they'll buy another one"

this ticked you off, you took a deep breath to prevent yourself from yelling "this company's goal on papers is to be the latest in medical technology and our motto is 'trust us with your safety,' shouldn't we be living up to our goals and motto" you looked at your audience of four who were staring at you with varying degrees of surprise and anger. You paused for a moment and took a few seconds to collect your thoughts "look, you want to improve this company's reputation in the world don't you?"

"yeah, but-"

"well then trust me, and your investors, and all those people who invest their money into this damned company to do your job!" you snapped, before grabbing your computer and storming out of the room, sitting at your desk with a huff.

one of your work friends, Matsui Taro rolled over to you in his wheelchair, his siren tail sitting where the , before asking "what's up with you?"

"I blew that meeting! I got mad and-"

"hey! hey! relax, who knows! maybe you got them to listen with your emotions" he assured, placing his scaley webbed hand on your shoulder reassuringly while giving you a soft fatherly look in his blue irises.

"...thanks, Matsui" you muttered before turning your gaze on the whiteboard that hung above your desk. it had a little doodle of a cat saying "don't give up! good luck on that meeting - signed, Matsui", shame you didn't see it earlier, maybe then you wouldn't have flunked that meeting.

you banged your head on the desk in defeat, mumbling, "how are they going to make a more expensive decision when I didn't even convince them before getting angry. . ."

"look, I'm sure if I talk to them I-"

"No! do not talk to corporate! I don't want you roped into this! I'm probably getting a pay cut for how I talked to them, I don't want anything worse to happen" you quickly Interrupted Matsui

"I'm sure you won't get a pay cut, I don't think that's even legal." he assured, rubbing your back reassuringly

"Ughhhhhh" you whined, before being interrupted by your phone buzzing from a text, it was Aizawa

"hey, I just got on my planning period, where'd you wanna meet up?"

"anywhere is fine with me, I'll go sign out to get on lunch break"

"what if we just get coffee and chat, my classes make me feel exhausted just after one of them anyway"

"yeah, that works!" you put down your phone after hitting send and spoke to Matsui "I'm going on lunch break!"

"oooh~ you got a date?" he teased

"wha- no! I'm just getting lunch with a friend!" you interjected, your face turning a reddish hue

"sounds like a date to me with the way your blushing~" he continued

"Just- Just fuck off!" you stormed off to sign out for lunch

"tell me about it when you get back!" he chirped, waving as you left

[stardusthuntress]

I LOVE this!!! AND I WANNA KNOW TOO!!! And I totally agree, causing as much chaos as possible is the bad batch’s mantra!!

“What if we promote the one that picks fights with the toothprick?”

“What, why?”

“They say they get more responsible and calm down a bit when they’re in charge. We could give it a try. Datapad and demolition-derby prefer to be followers (one of them has too much information and the other not enough and they get distracted bickering all the time until the other two interrupt and get them back on track), and the sniper can see everything that’s happening, but doesn’t talk enough. At least the tracker can find their asses if one of them gets in trouble, and he knows to ask questions if he doesn’t have all the info.”

“Are you sure this is a sane idea sir?”

“Is anything regarding this group sane? Just promote vibroblade and we will see what happens” gestures vaguely, not looking up from datapad where he’s trying to sort out the latest paperwork fiasco they caused.

“……… I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work, sir….”

*sighs* “How bad could it get? They’re already insanely dangerous, can’t get worse. Just a matter of which insanity is gonna keep them alive the longest. No way their shebs are gonna survive the war anyways. Besides, it might curb long-hair’s Fett instincts so he and the big one stop trying to hide dangerous pets in the barracks because he has to adopt things on sight.”

“But the infodump one always does all the paperwork anyways, why not him?”

“He’s so fixated on all the info they’ll spend weeks planning and war doesn’t have that kind of time”

“Ok, but the explosives guy is good at calming down the others”

“He’s an excellent engineer but he has one plan and that’s to blow every problem up. Then he will be the one needing someone to calm him down when he panics because that didn’t work”

“Ok, but like you said the sniper can see everything from his vantage point”

“And his snarky mouth tends to start fights. Thats gonna go down well when he pisses off everyone they meet”

“So…. The tiny tough guy?”

“Yeah, at least the other two listen to him when he tells them what he needs to do his job”

“If you say so sir”

“Just click the button, and then we can go to lunch.”

*clicks button that promotes Hunter to sergeant*

*CF 99 receives notification while at lunch*

*Crosshair instantly starts verbally abusing Hunter because he’s jealous*

*Hunter throws hands*

Trainers in the background watching the lunchroom erupt in chaos: “give it time… it’ll work out… and if it doesn’t, just fire my ass. I didn’t sign up for this shit”

************

A while later:

“Ah, sir? Clone force 99 has returned from their first mission already”

“They survived?!?”

“Yes, but the leader seems to have acquired a giant, intimidating face tattoo”

“Does it affect their group dynamic?”

“Doesn’t appear to, but the regs are intimidated”

“Then it’s fine. I don’t care what they do so long as they’re all effective on a battlefield. Let him get a full body tattoo for all I care”

*******

I can only imagine what must have happened when Wrecker got the head trauma. How their trainers must have been really concerned because now there could be no one to stop the others from bickering all the time with their emotional regulator out for the count…

And then the relief when Echo joined the team 😆😆😆 “oh for fucks sake! Finally! Someone to keep their internal fights to a minimum! My job here is done!”

I wanna know how Hunter became the leader of the Bad Batch. Like, not saying any of the others would have been better, I just mean, there were only four options: a sassy little iPad kid, a trigger-happy man bear, the problematic guy with the toothpicks, and Space Rambo. We can’t assume it was because he was the least chaotic, because nothing could be farther from the truth. In TCW season 7, Anakin asks him who they report to and he’s just like “idk man, if I knew how to fill out a report maybe I’d try and find out” and when Anakin gets snatched up by that lizard dragon thingy, the first thing his brothers do is get set up so that Hunter can windsurf behind it like a maniac because apparently that’s something he tends to do. In TBB S1 when Omega starts that food fight, Hunter tries to de-escalate the situation for approximately 3 seconds before throwing hands. All of his interactions with any sort of leadership involve a minimum of 70% sarcasm. The man has a blaster to shoot droids and chooses to stab them with a knife instead. He left cadet training and the first thing he did was get a massive face tattoo of a skull.

Like, I’m trying to imagine how that conversation went and all I can think of is, “Sir, it’s time to promote one of the members of Clone Force 99 to sergeant.” “…*long sigh*”

[ginnsbaker]

Thank you for writing ILGOSS, it's been quite a journey. I've been here since, i don't know, chapter four, I think. Started commenting my thoughts from chapter fifteen or so.

Every day I got the notification of a new chapter, I read it as soon as I could, feeling excitement and fear. I didn't think a fan fiction could cause that eagerness, it's comparable to when a new season of my favorite tv shows drops.

You were so committed to this, I find it admirable. Week after week, both writing and taking the time to read what we send you. Congrats on a job amazingly well done.

A biiiiiig hug

Heyyy! Yes, I always recognize you as one of the ppl here who constantly likes my updates and have been active in reblogging and commenting and sometimes sending me ask. I appreciate all of those interactions with you especially sometimes when I'm like "omg are they still following the story? have they liked the latest chapter yet?" because I get that 4 months of reading a fic can be tiring and... eventually boring and I'm glad you're here til the end :)

Thank you so so much!!! (HUGGGGGG)

[camstarzme]

Sexy Cam Models and Categories

To keep things simple our main categories are Featured, Couple Sex Cams, Live Female Cams, Male Sex Camsand Free Transgender Sex Cams. However, there's a huge variety of models to choose from and find the perfect sex cam show just for you . With around a hundred different adult Tags that you can select from within our Tags menu, the type of models and shows that you can enjoy are endless. Not only do we have the usual: Live Teen Sex Cams, Milf's, BBW's, we also have Hairy, Shaved, models who do Cam2Cam, models who love anal, cam models who enjoy roleplay, Huge Adult Toy Lovers, Bigtits, Smalltits, JOI, Asian, Latina, College babes, Gapers and Squirters. We could go one but you get the picture. Yes you literally get the live stream picture of all this and more, straight to your device. Best of all it's free!!!

Is It Really Free?

Yes it really is free to watch CamStarz 100% Free Live Sex Cams and have great live sex chat! However, the models are here to work and this might be their full time job or part time job. Some cam models are trying to make a little extra cash while they study or just to get buy in life. So it's up to you whether you want to buy some tokens and tip them. But ask yourself this, Would you go into a stripclub without any money? No didn't think so. So purchasing tokens really helps the models and who knows they could become the next big Pornstar and you may have had a helping hand in that. Free Sex Cams

Purchasing Tokens and Tipping The Live Sex Cam Models

It's totally up to you if you want to purchase tokens and start Tipping the Live Sex Cam Models. We dont require a credit card from you to watch our Free Sex Cams. However if you do...then before you can purchase Tokens and Tip the models you'll need to Sign Up first. That's quick and simple! as all you need to create your free account is a Username, password, age and gender. We don't even require an Email Address (but it's a good thing to add it, so that you can keep up to date with any notifications). Live Porn Shows

Getting tokens is easy and all the major payment options are accepted. The more tokens you buy the cheaper the tokens will be, as you'll get a bigger percentage discount. There also ways you can get free tokens, such as: referring a friend, increasing your spending limit to get 200 free tokens and also by upgrading your account to unlock so great features like free private messaging and custom chat text color options. Best Free Sex Cams UK

Control The Models With Your Tips

Many of the live sex models on our site have the latest interactive vibrating sextoys such as Lush2, Hush, Domi from Lovense. That puts you the viewer in full control of the model you are watching during Live Porn Shows. Your tips make the models toy vibrate at different speed levels. The more you tip the faster and longer their toy vibrates. Giving them ultimate pleasure, multiple orgasms and lots of Squirting. Enjoy Free Chat with Hot Girls today!

View More - Live Female Cams

[kkginfo]

AP EAMCET 2022 Results: Tomorrow AP EAMCET-2022 Results.. More than how many hours.. | KKG INFO

AP EAMCET 2022 Results: Tomorrow AP EAMCET-2022 Results.. More than how many hours.. | KKG INFO

AP EAPSET 2022 exam results will be released tomorrow (July 26), Council of Higher Education has announced. Tuesday morning AP EAPCET 2022 Result Date: The Board of Higher Education has announced that the results of AP EAPSET 2022 examination conducted for admission to engineering, agriculture and pharmacy courses for the academic year 2022-23 across the state of Andhra Pradesh will be declared…

[the-iceni-bitch]

Respect My Persistence

Kinkmas Day 8: Quickie

Relationship: Ari Levinson x Jake Jensen (Bear and Cubby, NLLYL)

Words: ~1.6k

Summary: What else can you do when the kids are all occupied?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected anal sex, barely there prep, spit as lube, anal fingering, daddy kink, feminization, anal cream pie) established relationship, DILFS!!!!!!!!, babies! Toddlers! Twins! Sporty girl!! SPOILERS!! Excessive fluff and softness, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: GAAAAAHHH!!!!! Their family is so cute and big and it’s too much to handle. They are such good dads!! I’m sobbing 😭

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“Rach, do you have your cleats?” Ari put a hand on the top of Isaac’s head when he moved around him to open the fridge, shaking his head when Rachel ran back into the house to grab the gear she’d almost left. “Good job, sweet pea. You’re going to Mari’s after practice?”

“Yeah, quit it!” Rachel swatted at Eli when he threw a grape at her, sticking her tongue out at her brother when Ari gave the boy a stern look before she wrapped her arms around him and let him kiss the top of her head. “Where’s daddy?”

“They’re all asleep, I don’t know how I did it. Bean!” Jake grinned at their daughter when he walked downstairs and she ran to him, catching her when she jumped into his arms and swinging her around happily. “Did you wait just to say goodbye to me?”

“She almost forgot her cleats.” Ari moved back to packing the twins’ lunch and Micah’s bag, nodding when he heard a honk and Rach just shouted goodbye before running to the front door. “Love you too, sweet pea! Say hi to you uncle Curtis!”

“Look at you, you ate all your peas!” Jake scooped Micah out of the high chair when he squealed at him, kissing his chubby little toddler cheeks and letting him pull on his shirt while he told Jake all about the bug he saw on the window. “You’re gonna see even more bugs with your aunt and uncle, you’re gonna love it. Did you pack the sunscreen for them, bear?”

“SPF 50, I packed it. You two settle down.” Eli and Isaac immediately stopped running at the sound of their father’s voice, both apologizing and going to put on their shoes. “Ran and gorgeous should be here any minute, does little bubba here need to potty before the zoo?”

“No!” They both laughed when he shook his head with a furious pout on his face before he immediately shrieked with happy laughter when the front door opened again. “Auntie!! Zoo!!”

“Okay, go say hi!” Jake set him down and watched him toddle off to greet you and Ransom, the twins also zooming past to jump on your husband while you kneeled down to hold your arms open for the kiddo. “Sunscreen, sandwiches, the epipen is in there?”

“Cub, I packed all of it and checked it twice.” Ari wound an arm around Jake’s shoulders and kissed his temple when he let out a little huff, only disconnecting when you wandered in with the toddler on your hip while Ran still wrestled with the twin. “Hey gorgeous.”

“Hi Ar.” You grinned when he and Jake both moved to kiss your cheeks at the same time, scrunching up your face and laughing softly when Micah squeaked and buried his face in your shoulder. “That my little muffin’s bag?”

“Mmhm. Drysdale, come help your wife! Oi, little dudes!” Jake managed to catch both twins by the shoulders when they ran back into the room and gave them a serious look while Ransom took the bag from Ari and gave him a hug. “You two listen to your aunt and uncle and stay with them, we are not going to have a repeat of the beach incident, understand?”

“Yes dad.” Even though they squirmed when Jake hugged them and kissed their foreheads, they still hugged him back, hugging Ari too before following Ransom out of the house with matching grins on their faces. “Bye pop!”

“G’bye! Thank you again for this, gorgeous.” Ari hugged you again, pinching Micah’s cheek and kissing his little nose before letting you go. “Have fun!”

“We always do.” You let Jake peck you on the lips as you walked towards the front door, shaking your head when you heard your husband telling the twins they could probably convince you to let them pet one of the snakes.

“Oh my god, it’s so quiet.” Jake took a deep breath once the front door was closed, leaning back on the counter and sighing to himself while Ari lounged against the fridge across from him. “It’s weird.”

“It really is.” Ari shrugged when he tried to get used to the lack of noisy children as he stared at his husband, crossing his arms as he felt his chest getting warm at that beautiful crooked smile and the slightly rumpled but still very tight t-shirt the kids had gotten him for Father’s Day. “All three of the dumplings are really asleep?”

“Yeah.” Jake could feel his breathing get shallow as he stared back at Ari, the way his forearms flexed over his broad chest and the silver hairs that had just recently started appearing in his beard doing a lot of things to him. “It’s like a miracle.”

Ari grunted in agreement and dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and that was it. Jake barely had a chance to draw in a breath before Ari was on him, letting his lips part and whining softly when the larger man lifted him onto the counter and licked into his mouth while he worked furiously to undo his jeans.

“Jesus Christ.” Ari groaned when Jake buried his hands in his hair, biting his bottom lip and tugging on it while he yanked his jeans down past the curve of his ass. “When was the last time we had sex when the sun was still up?”

“I don’t want to think about it, just hurry.” Jake whimpered when Ari spat lewdly on his fingers before reaching between them to slide one into Jake’s ass. “They could wake up anytime, no prep.”

“Cubby, you know you need some prep.” Ari chuckled when Jake bit his ear and wrapped his fist around his fat cock as he stretched his baby out, slipping in a second finger and driving his hips into his husband’s hand while he stroked him. “But not a lot.”

“I don’t fucking care, my tight boy pussy is so goddamn hungry.” Jake purred at the feral sound Ari made at that declaration, rolling his body beautifully and batting his eyelashes at the man he had wrapped around his finger. “I need that fat Daddy cock.”

“Yeah you fucking do, little brat.” Ari kissed Jake deeply and pulled his fingers out of him, leaning on his hands and huffing out sharp breaths into his boy’s mouth while Jake lined him up. “Such a needy boy for Daddy’s dick, gonna take the whole thing like my good boy, huh cub?”

“Yeah, mmm, yeah… Daddy…” Jake practically sobbed when Ari grabbed his knees and pressed them together up to his chest, the feeling of his massive dick thrusting into his ass making his vision almost black out. “Love this thick cock, turn my pretty pussy out, Daddy, please.”

“Good fucking boy.” Ari started snapping his hips against Jake’s ass viciously, giving that plump curve a good smack and licking his lips at the way it jiggled deliciously for him. “Letting Daddy fuck you like a little slut right on the counter, so goddamn pretty watching that pink little pussy swallow me whole.”

Jake was struggling to answer Ari when he could feel his dick rearranging his guts, whimpering every time his hips met his ass and trying not to get too loud. It was so hard though, being only half dressed and pressed into the counter and fucked so roughly he was choking on it made his pleasure build so fast he knew it was going to be explosive.

“Daddy… daddydaddydaddy…” Jake was desperate, his gut winding tighter and tighter and his dick twitching against his abs while he gazed at Ari with glazed over eyes. “Come in my cunt, I need Daddy’s cum, fuck it deep.”

“Dirty boy, gonna fill you up.” Ari ground his dick deep and bit off a growl when Jake clenched around him. “Little pussy’s gonna be so full you can’t even hold it all in. Wanna watch your pretty prick make a mess for me first though, baby boy.”

It didn’t even take anything else, just those words and the way Ari’s cock was driving against his sweet spot made Jake’s entire body quake, Ari leaning forward in a rush and smashing his lips to Jake’s to swallow the shriek that was ripped from his chest while he fell apart. Jake couldn’t stop shaking when his cum shot all over his torso, gazing into Ari’s eyes and taking shaky breaths while he tried his best to get himself under control. But he couldn’t when his bear growled and throbbed inside him, whimpering when he felt that comfortable warmth getting pumped into his guts with deep rolls of his husband’s hips.

“Ari, holy fuck.” Jake finally took a full breath when Ari collapsed on top of him, smiling against his lips and pulling gently on his hair while his bear rubbed his hips. “I made a mess all over my shirt.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby.” Ari leaned back and sighed as he pulled out, pulling Jake’s jeans and boxers back into place before helping his husband out of his stained shirt. “I got too excited.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Jake wound his arms around Ari’s neck and purred when the man trailed his lips over his jaw, frowning a little when he heard one of the babies stirring over the monitor. “Ugh, I knew it was too good to last.”

“No, Jake, you go get in the shower.” Ari shook his head when Jake made a face like he was going to argue. “You were up with them half the night, let me get them settled again then I’ll join you. I’ll even suck your pretty dick and let you take a nice nap when we’re done.”

[bitchassbucky]

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

[2jaeh]

Bubble ♡︎ | Na Jaemin

Genre : Fluff humor

You’re subscribed to Jaemins bubble, excited just like every other fan to recieve his message for today until his new messages don’t seem like the others.....

-—————————————————————————

“What’s taking so long ?” You stared blankly at the LYSN* app while stretching your legs onto your leather couch.

You switched over to the Twitter app and scrolled through your timeline, briefly reading through whatever was the latest topic on nctzen Twitter. One tweet caught your attention which made you chuckle out loud

Nananotifs: “I’m pretty sure Haechan finally threw Jaemin’s phone out of the dorm window bc.......”

All Nanadoongies gathered on Twitter to complain about the absence of Jaemin especially since he was the only one who hadnt reposted Chenle’s beloved pup Daegal.

You sighed and switched back to the LYSN app and noticed you were able to send one more message to Jaemin before the app blocks you off until he sends a new message.

Y/n: nana I miss you please say something

JAEMIN: y/n did you eat today ? I’ve missed you!

Your eyes widened at the immediate message you received from your ult. Was is coincidental ? Ofcourse it was, they don’t get notifications from fan messages do they ?

You immediately switched over to Twitter already seeing the bubble update account sharing Jaemins new message along with the entire timeline screaming over his activity.

~boominana: “how dare he act so normal I’m gonna cry !!!!”

~jaeminjenos: “post a selfie Jaemin don’t be shy”

~dreamies023: “he’s probably busy guys let him post when he wants to”

The last account was right. Jaemin was probably so busy. It was nice that he still found time out of his schedule to message nctzens and that’s what you loved most about him.

Y/n: Jaemin you’re stressing everyone out on Twitter lol let us know you’re doing ok we love you !

JAEMIN: am I ? :/

Was it a delayed message ? You shook your head and decided it was probably just another glitch on the app.

Y/n: yes stop ghosting us !

JAEMIN: ghosting ? ㅋㅋㅋ so dramatic

You froze. There was absolutely no way that from the tons of messages he would be recieving right now that yours would be the one he read and responded to.

The interaction made your heart race and quickly switch over to Twitter, it was probably chaos right now wondering what Jaemins messages could mean.

Silence.

Everyone on the timeline moved on from Jaemins first message and there were no updates on the messages you had just received from him.

PING!

JAEMIN: y/n ~ are you not going to answer me ? How am I ghosting you :(

This could not be real. You felt a lump in your throat as you checked over your other bubble subscriptions which all seemed fine except for his. You had no idea how to feel or what to do.

Y/N: this is weird. Send me a selfie so I know you’re actually replying to me and not a bot -_-

About 15 minutes went by and you stared at the open chat. He had read your message but there was no reply.

“Humh it was a bot after all” you huffed, about to close the app when your phone pinged and you saw Jaemins name pop up.

A voice note.

“Hey y/n, I hope I’m saying your name correctly hehe So long story short I think the chat glitched and your name and profile pic added itself to my own bubble. Weird right ? Mark Hyung told me I should send a voice note because it will make you believe me a bit more and .....well we would know if you posted on Twitter which CANNOT happen hahaha you understand right ?”

What was happening right now.

You pinched yourself to make sure you didn’t accidentally fall asleep on the couch and start having a very eerie realistic dream.

JAEMIN: I know you’re shocked rn but I really enjoy reading your replies haha it was the best part of my day and well I couldn’t help myself today. I wanted to tease you lol

Y/N: wait so how long has this “glitch” happened for ?

JAEMIN: hmmm....about a month now I think...after you renewed your account I think hehe

Y/N: what ??? Omg I’m so embarrassed......

JAEMIN: there’s nothing to be embarrassed about trust me. I’ve read everything czennies have sent me haha I find it amusing.

You exhaled deeply and scrolled through some of the messages you have sent him during this month and thankfully none of them were cringeworthy.

Y/N: so...now what? Should I speak to app support and fix this....unsubscribe or something....

JAEMIN: LOL youre really funny. Imagine finding out you can speak to someone from your fav idol group and you want to call tech support ...LOL so funny Mark Hyung is laughing

You felt your cheeks heat up at the image of Na Jaemin and Mark Lee laughing at your messages.

JAEMIN: please don’t be embarrassed y/n ! I only did this bc well I have your profile now and you’re really cute.

This was NOT happening.

Y/N: Uh......

JAEMIN: what do you have a boyfriend ? ....

Y/N: no I don’t I’m just....it’s nothing never mind

JAEMIN: LOL so cute! So do you have Kakao ?

Y/N: you want my number ? Why ? .....

JAEMIN: to talk to you obviously! What if they fix the glitch and I’ll never be able to talk to you again..

Jaemin wanted to talk to you. He was trusting you wholeheartedly to add him on his private account. Did he have an idea of the kind of person you were ? How could he possibly risk his career to a nobody ?

Y/N: I do have kakao it’s YN_0023.... Jaemin I won’t say anything but are you sure this is okay ?

JAEMIN: yeah I’ll video call you and we can talk about it ...adding you now. Clear this chat after you get my text!

VIDEOCHAT ?

Is he absolutely insane ? Maybe the voice note was fabricated. Maybe this was some weirdo trying to prey on innocent fangirls. Maybe -

Nana00: heyyyyyyyyy :)

Y/n: hi Uhm is this ...Jaemin ...

Nana00: yup (inserts a pic with your username on a sheet of paper)

Y/n: holy shiiiiit

By now you were already pacing across your entire apartment trying to come to terms with what was going on in your life right now. It became a force of habit to constantly check Twitter and make sure by chance somebody mentioned a glitch of some sort or SM announcing that the app is under construction or SOMETHING.

‘This couldn’t be real’ you thought.

Nana00: lol you’re so funny so are you free to video call ?

Y/n: Uhm......are you sure that’s a good idea ?

Nana00: yeah I mean firstly I would like to know you’re real too lol and also I want to know if I can trust you with this information.....it’ll be quick I promise

Y/n: well....okay give me 10minutes please

Nana00: lol sure :)

After scrambling to your bathroom to make yourself a little presentable as if you just won a video call event for your ult, you finally set on a laidback look so it doesn’t look too obvious that you put a little effort in.

You decided to prop your phone on the mini tripod on your desk so the lighting from your bedroom window in front of you bounced off your skin perfectly.

Y/n: okay I’m ready. I’m a little shy so.....sorry if I can’t talk much...

Nana00: you don’t sound shy when you talk about me on bubble hehe ;)

You buried your face in your hands and groaned. The embarrassment was still eating at you and Jaemin was not letting you live those messages down.

Ring Ring Ring......

You saw your phone light up and Jaemins kakao profile picture fill your screen.

With a shaky finger you press the recieve button and watch as the pixelated video start to clear up, presenting a very smiley Na Jaemin.

“Hi there” he said in his high voice and a bright smile on his face. He seemed to be sitting at his desk as well, hair still wet from either a rainy day or a shower.

“Uhm hi” you replied shyly and waved awkwardly.

“So this is the face behind the bubble profile huh”

“I guess so” you replied. It seemed as though you were calm and collected but on the inside you were screaming. Screaming that you were conversing with one of your favourite people right now.

“Good! Sorry to ask this again but did you clear the chat on bubble ? We have to be careful with that” he said in a concerned voice.

“Yeah I did after you sent the pic I finally realized it was definitely you so I went ahead and did it” you quickly said, kinda embarrassed by how fast your words came out.

Jaemin chuckled.

“You still doubted me after the voice note?”

“Just a little”

“You’re so adorable it’s ridiculous you know that ?” He gleamed and neared the screen, his deep brown eyes focusing on yours “ where are you from y/n?”

“Well I live in a lot of places but my hometown is _______. I learnt most of my korean while studying here in Osaka weird enough” you shrugged.

You moved to Japan for your first year of university since it was where you sort of grew up as a kid and took up extra korean classes once settled in the city.

“Osaka ?? Wow I love Japan I can’t wait to go back! Well now I kinda have an excuse to go” he winked sending your heart into a frenzy.

You giggled shyly “is this the fan service everybody talks about ?

“Fan service is a job....this is different I’m sure you know that y/n haha”

“All of this because of my profile picture ?”

“Well” Jaemin bit down on his lip as his eyebrows turned into a frown

“I obviously saw your pic and thought you were very cute but a big part of it was your messages and how you would always message me when I most needed it.”

“My messages are very random” you chuckled.

“Still made me smile throughout my day and that means a lot” he said and ran his fingers through his hair “so it’s kinda selfish of me to say, but id like for you to update me...personally”

“Na Jaemin are you asking me to be your own personal bubble account ?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Yeah pretty much” he shrugged “I’ll repay the subscription when I see you Osaka.”

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

“Okay so is everyone clear on the plan?” Alex looked around the DEO mission briefing table, hands flat on the surface in her most commanding and authoritative stance.

Nia and Brainy nodded, Nia with her arms crossed and Brainy with his hands steepled in front of him in a serious manner. Kelly rolled her eyes but nodded too.

“Good.” Alex gave a curt nod and pushed away from the table. “We will meet back here at 19:00 hours for the debriefing.”

“Um… babe?” Kelly put a hand on Alex’s forearm and leaned towards her and Alex softened, smiling dopily at her. “Our dinner reservation is for 6:30.”

“Yeah and Brainy and I have a date too.” Nia looped her arm through Brainy’s, grinning.

“Yes.” Brainy looked pleased with himself and subconsciously leaned further into Nia’s side. “We are going paintballing.”

Alex hummed. “Okay well everyone just keep the group chat updated and we’ll meet up tomorrow.”

They dispersed and the plan was set into motion.

Phase 1 - Alex

Alex strode through the halls of the DEO with purpose, rubber soles of her boots not making much sound. Part of her envied the intimidating click of Lena’s heels but J’onn had shut down her suggestion of adding studs to the bottom of her boots, claiming it would undermine the stealth aspect of the design.

She entered her little office and flopped down in the chair, propping her feet up on the desk. She dialed Kara’s number, chewing on a jolly rancher from the secret stash in the drawer that Kara thought held boring paperwork as it rang.

“Hey Alex. What’s up?”

“Hey Kara. I - … where are you? Shouldn’t you be at CatCo?” The faint sound of traffic and the wind crackled through the phone speaker and Alex frowned.

“I’m just on my lunch break.”

“Oh.” Alex glanced at her watch. There was still an hour before phase 2 so Kara would probably be back at CatCo by then. “Ok. So what are you doing tonight? Sorry again that I can’t spend tonight with you.”

“No it’s fine - you have fun with Kelly. Lena and I were just going to have a movie night together.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. That was easier than expected.

“Yeah, well neither of us was going to spend Valentine’s Day with anyone else so…”

Hm. That was going to be Alex’s argument. At least Kara was unknowingly cooperating with the secret plan.

She and Lena were getting insufferable with their heart eyes and yearning and so Alex had decided to take matters into her own hands with the help of their friends. (Kelly had been somewhat reluctant but Alex promised they wouldn’t push Kara or Lena to do anything, they would just… gently direct them in the direction they all knew they were heading anyway.) And so Mission: Get The Idiots Together was born. … Along with the group chat where they complained about the two idiots in question.

“Well ok then. Have a good day.”

“You too. Bye, Alex. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alex hung up and leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers together and feeling like a Bond villain. Ah yes, it was all coming together now.

Phase 2 - Nia

Nia: Guys it’s all falling apart already

Nia glanced around the CatCo bullpen again, leg nervously bouncing. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she looked back at it, totally-not-suspiciously under her desk. It was a reply from Alex.

Alex: What?? What’s going on?

Nia: Kara’s not here

Alex: She told me she was at lunch over an hour ago! She must be back by now

Nia: Well she’s not! What do I do???

Brainy: Do not worry - I have just just seen her exiting L-corp and she informed me she was heading back to CatCo.

Alex: Ok great. Nobody panic.

Kelly: You guys are taking this way too seriously

Nia: Ok I’ll just do it when she gets back

Alex: Oh btw Kara said they’ve already planned to have a movie night together tonight so that makes our job easier

Brainy: Wait - if they’re already meeting tonight then what is the purpose of my visit to L-corp?

Phase 3 - Brainy

Brainy frowned down at his phone but at that moment the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on Lena’s floor. He stepped out, putting his phone away and nervously smoothing his shirt. Improvisation. He could do that. This plan definitely wasn’t going to end in disaster.

He nodded politely to Jess and she smiled. “Hello. I am here to see Lena Luthor.”

Jess bit back an amused smile and picked up the phone on her desk. “Miss Luthor? Querl Dox is here to see you.” She put it down after a moment and gestured to the large double doors. “You can go right in.”

Brainy nodded again in thanks and moved towards the office. Perhaps they should have drafted Jess into the plan.

Lena stood up and rounded her desk with a slightly confused yet genuine smile as he entered. “Brainy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He cleared his throat, standing awkwardly in the middle of her office. “I just came to see you. As friends do. Which we are.”

Lena’s eyebrows climbed almost imperceptibly. “Right. Drink?”

Brainy shook his head and she moved over to the side of her office to pour herself a glass of water. “So… I hear you and Kara are having a movie night tonight.”

A little bit of water sloshed over the side of the glass as Lena was pouring it. She had a faint blush on her cheeks when she turned back around which was odd because the AC in her office seemed to be working fine.

“Yes. Well we assumed you would all be too busy to join us. Are you and Nia doing anything tonight?” She sipped her water and moved back to lean against her desk.

Brainy lit up at the mention of Nia. “Yes! We are going paintballing.”

He spent the next half an hour talking about his date with Nia and Nia in general until they both had to get back to work.

Phase 2 (attempt 2) - Nia

“Kara!” Nia slid up to walk along beside her as she stepped from the elevator into the bullpen.

Kara smiled and started walking towards her desk. “Hey, Nia. What’s up?”

“Nothing! I mean… lots of things. The sky, the ceiling, …clouds.”

Kara looked at her a bit weirdly and she laughed awkwardly.

“Anyway… just came to see how you are, mentor.” She lightly punched Kara in the arm.

Kara raised an eyebrow, looking down at where Nia had punched her before slowly sitting down at her desk. “I’m good. Thank you.”

“Great! Oh by the way,” Nia smoothly segued into her part of the mission with complete subtlety and absolutely no suspiciousness, “I accidentally double ordered flowers and chocolates for Brainy. I figured I’d give one lot to you and maybe you could do something with them.”

She rushed over to her desk and grabbed the bouquet of flowers and heart-shaped box of chocolates waiting there, depositing them in front of Kara.

“Oh wow. Thanks Nia.” Kara grinned up at her before picking up the box of chocolates and peeling off the sellotape.

Nia’s eyes widened and she tried not to scream in panic as Kara opened the box and just started eating the chocolates. Kara offered one to her with a smile and she managed to croak out a “no thanks” before she ran off back to her desk to inform the group chat of the latest development.

Phase 4 - Kelly

Kelly sighed as her phone blew up with notifications of her panicking group of friends. How this had ended up being her life was a mystery.

The elevator slowed and opened to the bustling CatCo bullpen just as she saw Kara disappear through the emergency exit at the back. She sighed again and got straight back into the elevator, unlocking her phone.

Kelly: I’m guessing Kara just got called away for a Supergirl emergency?

Alex: Sorry

Kelly: Phase 4 failed

Alex: Shit. Brainy, I need you to take over phase 4 when Kara gets back to the DEO. Kelly, you just get to L-corp.

Nia: Wait but if I’m now going to L-corp to give Lena chocolates instead won’t it be a little suspicious that we’ve all suddenly decided to to go visit her on the same day?

Alex: Shit you’re right. Ok, Nia, you take over phase 6 while you’re at L-corp and Kelly, you come by Kara’s later for phase 4.

Phase 4b - Brainy

Brainy stared at his phone, unsure whether he was still supposed to be attempting phase 4. Before he could ask, Kara strode up beside him and sat on the desk he was sitting at.

“Did you see how hard I hit that guy?” Kara grinned, swinging her legs.

Brainy gulped, quickly turning off his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. “Yes. Very impressive. Is Alex back yet?”

Kara shook her head. “She and the backup team are just on their way back with the bad guy.”

He nodded. Right. Motivate Kara to tell Lena about her feelings. He could do this.

“Did you know that the mortality rate of unmarried people is much higher than that of married people?”

Kara’s head snapped over to him with a mildly horrified expression. “What?”

Perhaps that was not the right starting point. “Well… maybe that means one could keep someone they care about from dying so much by… marrying them?”

Kara chuckled. “Unfortunately I’m not sure marriage is a cure for death.”

There was a sadness creeping in behind her eyes and Brainy began to panic even further. Making Kara upset was definitely not part of the plan. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind to try to cheer her up again.

“Do you want to see a video of baby pandas that Nia sent me?”

Alex gave them a bit of an odd look when she got back to see them laughing at videos of pandas rolling around but Brainy would say improvised phase 4 had been a success.

Phase 2.5/ 6 - Kelly Nia

Nia strode into Lena’s office with her most friendly and least suspicious smile.

“Nia. What a surprise. You and Brainy in one day.” Lena stood and gave Nia a brief but warm hug.

She was wearing a jade sheath dress that brought out the green in her eyes, with sleeves that came down to just above her elbows. Her usual deep red lipstick was missing, replaced with a natural colour (or it may have just been lip balm). Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and had been left slightly wavy rather than perfectly straightened. At least they didn’t have to worry about making sure Lena looked good for tonight.

“Hey Lena. I just came by because I ordered too many chocolates for Brainy and I thought maybe you could have one to give to someone or something.” She sat casually in front of Lena’s desk, pulling another box of chocolates she had bought on the way over out her back and setting them on the desk.

Lena sat back down with an amused smile. “How thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“You know,” Nia relaxed back into the chair, looking off into the distance in a completely normal and not at all overly dramatic gesture. “I’m so glad Brainy and I talked about how we felt. We’re so happy together and I can’t imagine how much I would have regretted not saying anything. You know… because we’re so happy together now and we wouldn’t be if neither of us had said anything”

Lena nodded slowly. “I’m glad you’re both so happy together.”

“And you know, we should always speak our minds.” She adopted the persona of a motivational speaker, channeling her inner Kelly. “Because we can’t let ourselves be silenced, Lena. You are a powerful woman with a great mind, great hair, and a jawline that could cut glass.”

“... thank you?”

Nia placed her hand over Lena’s on the desk, nodding seriously. “You’re welcome.”

And with that she stood and strutted out of the room.

Nailed it.

Phase 7 - Alex

Alex turned up at Kara’s just after she got home. Kara opened the door, looking very confused at the sight of her sister.

“Alex? What are you doing here? Don’t you have to get ready for your date?”

Alex pushed into the apartment, patting Kara’s arm on the way past. “I just came to see my little sister beforehand. Make sure you’re doing okay.”

Kara closed the door with a raised eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Alex shrugged, dropping her bag onto the kitchen island with a clunk. “Well I just wanted to see you since I can’t spend the evening with you. I didn’t want you to feel alone.”

Kara glanced at her watch. “Oh. Ok. Well Lena’s going to be here soon so you don’t have to worry.”

Alex waved her off and moved into her bedroom, flicking through the clothes on the rack.

“... what are you doing?”

Alex ignored her, picking out a neat navy blue button down. “Hey, why don’t you wear this? I haven’t seen you in it before.”

Kara frowned. “I’ve definitely worn that around you before.”

“Well I don’t remember.” She shoved the shirt into Kara’s arms and directed her towards the bathroom. “Put it on for me.” She decided Kara’s beige slacks were good enough, not wanting to push too far. Her hair was already perfectly curled in a half up half down look as though she had only just done it so that was fine.

Kara appeared again a moment later in the new shirt looking confused. Alex interrupted her before she could say anything.

“Brrrr. It’s cold in here.”

Kara frowned. “Is it?”

“Yes. Us humans get cold, you know.” She moved into the kitchen, not taking any questions. “You should light some candles.”

“Candles? To warm my apartment?”

Alex ignored her, rifling through cupboards for matches. She found them with a bunch of Kara’s own candles. A rather large number of candles actually that all looked new and smelled nice. Looks like she hauled all those candles over in her handbag for nothing.

Kara helped her set up the candles nicely around her apartment, continuously glancing over at her as though worried Alex had sustained some kind of head injury.

Alex was saved from having to come up with a more plausible explanation by a knock on the door.

Phase 4 (attempt ?) - Kelly

“Kelly? What are you doing here?”

Kelly hugged Kara and made her way into the now softly glowing and smelling faintly of sandalwood apartment. “I came to see you. I know how hard it can be for some people on Valentine’s day if they don’t have a romantic partner. But it’s completely normal and we shouldn’t be made to feel any less for it - in fact there are plenty of people who never have a relationship and lead very happy and fulfilled lives.”

Alex elbowed her in the side, smiling innocently.

Kelly cleared her throat, pushing back at Alex a little. “Although we also shouldn’t be afraid to look for a relationship. It’s important to be honest with ourselves and others, and sometimes things that seem scary can actually be okay and very rewarding.”

Alex nodded along beside her and Kara looked between the two of them.

She nodded slowly. “Right.”

Another knock at the door drew Kara’s attention away and Alex sighed in relief, holding her hand up to Kelly for a sneaky high five which she returned with an eye roll.

Kara’s voice took on a breathy awed quality that only ever appeared around Lena as she opened the door. “Lena. Hi.”

Lena smiled shyly, ducking her head. “Hi.”

Kara stepped aside to let her in, taking her coat.

“Hey Lena.” Alex waved at her.

Lena’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Alex. Kelly. I thought you two had a date?”

Alex nodded excessively, taking Kelly’s hand. “Yes we do. And we should really be going so that we’re not late.”

They awkwardly sidled between Kara and Lena out of the apartment, looking one last time between them before smiling and walking off down the hall.

Alex grinned as she heard the door close behind them. “Do you think it worked?”

Phase …???

They were just leaving Kara’s building when Nia and Brainy came running up to them.

“Alex! Kelly!” Nia doubled over, hands on her knees and breathing hard as she reached them. She thrust her hand out towards them, bouquet of roses clutched in her fist. “Kara forgot the flowers at CatCo.”

Alex gasped and snatched them from her hand, turning to rush back inside. Everyone else ran after her, taking the stairs two at a time. They stomped down the hall to Kara’s door and Alex pushed it open, all four of them bursting in.

Kara and Lena were locked in an open mouthed kiss in the kitchen, Lena pressed up against the island as Kara gripped her hips, thumb slipping under her shirt. Lena’s hands were tangled in Kara’s hair, pulling her closer in a decidedly non-platonic way. A bouquet of plumerias sat on the island behind them and the dining table was laid romantically with a meal that looked to be from France.

The pair sprang apart at the loud bang of Kara’s door against the wall, Lena ducking her head and pulling her lips into her mouth as Kara moved slightly in front of her as though attempting to hide that they had just been thoroughly making out.

The four in the doorway gaped at the scene before them.

“Well. I guess the plan worked.”

[musette22]

you know what's the funny thing about the seb situation? the fact that if this was 2018 or prior, he'd have acknowledged the elephant in the room. Meaning: his latest post yes could probably offend people, personally, as an asian Buddhist myself, I didnt see anything really that bad because we know sebastian is always making his weird faces and this is mainly for the role, he tagged the pam&tommy account after all but i still believe that if this was 2018 he'd have read the comments and say something about it, maybe delete the post, i dont know but the thing is that hate drove him away from his fanbase. the same people who complain non stop about every single thing and the ones who send hate towards his way, are the ones who did this. they did this to themselves. because let's be honest, most people complaining are white people, it's always the white people doing the most noise and sending the worst hate. and even if they arent white, it's people who dont belong to certain culture/religion. I don't need them to speak for me, much less white people because the thing is that they drive people away. they send useless hate towards someone thinking that they did something. I know in my heart that seb would've addressed the topic if this was before all the hate because he used to do that. he always did that but I'm also sure that nowadays he might have his notifications on only for the people he follows and rightfully but honestly the most important question is if he did this with malice or with the intention to offend someone? I know the answer is no and that's enough for me (to my fellow asian Buddhists: not saying you dont have the right to be angry, you do but truly, I know most people being awful towards him arent Buddhist themselves and that's what makes me mad)

Who knows yeah, maybe you're right, maybe he would've! Based on some things he's done and said in the past, I could imagine what you're saying is true, although we can't know for sure. I agree that the intent of this post (or any of his posts, really) was not to offend anyone, and that any offense caused was accidental, and the result of a misjudgement on his part (I misjudge things about 10 times a day, it happens). I don't believe we should expect a celebrity to always explain, comment or apologise on something that has accidentally offended people, because there will literally always be someone offended by anything a celebrity does (not saying that's the case here, but in general). Unless it's a really offensive or blatantly tone-deaf post or comment, I don't personally think they always have to address criticism. It'd be another full time job for them otherwise lol. But if they choose to (as Sebastian has done in the past) that is of course their decision, and it can be good to apologise and assure people you didn't mean any harm, sometimes. Unfortunately, as we've seen in Sebastian's case, it can also make 'fans' feel entitled to a reaction from him, and that can spiral wildly out of control. So yeah, I agree that if some of Sebastian's 'fans' hadn't outright attacked him for literally everything since last summer, he might've actually chosen to address it. But now we'll never know 🤷🏻‍♀️

[camstarzme]

CamStarz Free Nude Cams

CamStarz is the hottest and most diverse 100% Free Live Sex Cams network on the internet right now. Free Sex Cams

Had enough of watching standard porn and never knowing if the quality will good or if you’re gonna get a virus before you even cum? Want to enjoy a Free Live Sex and interactive Adult Chat experience?

Then CamStarz will fulfill all of your desires and then some. The cam models on our Free Adult Webcams will excite you like no other. Whether you’re into Teens’18+, Milfs, BBW’s, Asians, Ebony’s, Latinas, Gay / Straight Males, Transexuals or Couple Sex Shows, CamStarz free sex cams caters just for you. Live Porn Shows

High Quality Live Sex Shows

Many other big name sites will have some hidden fees that you need to pay to see their models perform live porn shows. But at CamStarz you know it’s 100% free to watch our models on cam. Not only can you Watch Free Cam Shows Online, but the quality of the shows are spectacular and you can live stream in HD or 4K UHD quality. What’s not to like about that!!!

Is It Really Free?

Yes it really is free to watch CamStarz 100% Free Live Sex Cams and have great live sex chat! However, the models are here to work and this might be their full time job or part time job. Some cam models are trying to make a little extra cash while they study or just to get buy in life. So it’s up to you whether you want to buy some tokens and tip them. But ask yourself this, Would you go into a stripclub without any money? I didn’t think so. So purchasing tokens really helps the models and who knows they could become the next big Pornstar. You may have had a helping hand in that. Best Free Sex Cams UK

Purchasing Tokens and Tipping The Live Sex Cam Models

It’s totally up to you if you want to purchase tokens and start Tipping the Live Sex Cam Models. We don’t require a credit card from you to watch our Free Sex Cams. However if you do…then before you can purchase Tokens and Tip the models you’ll need to Sign Up first.

That’s quick and simple! as all you need to create your free account is a Username, password, age and gender. We don’t even require an Email Address (but it’s a good thing to add it, so that you can keep up to date with any notifications). Live Female Cams

Getting tokens is simple and all the major payment options are accepted. The more tokens you buy the cheaper the tokens will be, as you’ll get a bigger percentage discount. There also ways you can get free tokens, such as: referring a friend, increasing your spending limit to get 200 free tokens and also by upgrading your account to unlock so great features like free private messaging and custom chat text color options.

Control The Models With Your Tips

Many of the live sex models on our site have the latest interactive vibrating sextoys such as Lush2, Hush, Domi from Lovense. That puts you the viewer in full control of the model you are watching during Live Porn Shows. Your tips make the models toy vibrate at different speed levels. The more you tip the faster and longer their toy vibrates. Giving them ultimate pleasure, multiple orgasms and lots of Squirting. Enjoy Free Chat with Hot Girls today!

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Good Foundation

Pairing: Curtis Everett x shy!fem Reader (Timber and Flower, No Love Like Your Love AU)

Words: ~1.6 k

Summary: You finally achieve your dream of owning your own bar, but the contractor you hired may be dangerous for your health.

Warnings: explicit language, meet cute, brief view of some of our other couples, fluff, reader is clumsy, Curtis is a giant, they both smell good, no minors due to the AU

A/N: Well, continuing with the extremely soft mood I’ve been in, here’s some more fluff! I threw in some hints about where certain other couples are heading, as well, but it’s really hard to not refer to ninja in the second person, I almost messed that up so many times. Anyway, enjoy these to cuties!!!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

“This is a fantastic proposal.” You smiled nervously at Ari when he gave you a warm grin, tugging on the edge of your sleeves as he and Ransom flipped through the folders you had brought with you. “And I know this is just for the downtown property, but gorgeous mentioned you had ideas for some other sites too?”

“Ye… yes.” You took a deep breath, huffing out a short laugh when Ransom’s wife gave you a thumbs up from where she was looking over her own copy of the proposal she had spent so much time helping you with. “I know there’s an old Mason’s lodge on Plum Island and a church compound in Framingham that could work for some different things.”

“What were you thinking?” Ransom flicked his eyes up from the folder and gave you a reassuring smile when he saw you take a shaky breath. “Hey, it’s ok, you’re doing great.”

“Um, the lodge has some old thermal pools as well as a sweat lodge that could maybe be a spa?” You shrugged and tried to keep eye contact with them. “And the church would make such an interesting restaurant and bar, plus it’s in a really nice area that could lend itself to a bed and breakfast with all the different cottages. Obviously I’d have to completely retrofit them to add plumbing for bathrooms and stuff, but I think it could be really popular. Plus the gardens would be beautiful once they’re a little more manicured.”

“And you’re able to put up half of the capital?” Ari whistled when you nodded, grinning at Ransom and his wife after he closed the folder. “I don’t feel like there’s any way we can pass on this, you really did some fantastic research. Do you have a contractor you’d want to use?”

“No, I don’t really know anyone.” You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, a grin splitting your face as you let yourself relax.

“What, you thinking Everett?” Ransom smiled at Ari when his wife came and wrapped her arms around his chest so she could kiss the top of his head after congratulating you.

“Yeah, he’s been looking for jobs in the area to get more established, and you know he loves restoration projects. I’ll give him your contact info, sweets.” Ari winked at you as he rose to his feet, wrapping you in a big hug that made you let out a happy squeak. “I wish I could go out with you all to celebrate, but I’ve gotta meet the fiancé to go over the menu for the reception, and if I’m late at all we run the risk of ending up with nothing but cookies and candy.”

“I mean, I would be good working up some dessert themed cocktails if it ended up being that.” You giggled when he rolled his eyes with an indulgent smirk. “Let me know either way once you finalize the menu so I can work up some prospective beers, and some cocktails where you can’t taste the booze for your lightweight fiancé.”

“Thank you, sweets.” Ari gave you one more squeeze and the peck on the top of the head before heading out the door. “See you two at the fittings Saturday!

“Give my blondie a big kiss for me!” Dr. Drysdale beamed when her husband stood up and pressed his lips to her temple. “I told you this would go great, you were so nervous!”

You couldn’t believe how fast Ari and Ransom had gotten everything pushed through. It hadn’t even been two weeks and you were already meeting with the contractor at the library you were going to be renovating so it could be your very own bar, it was crazy. Even the fact that the bombshell wasn’t going to be there with you to act as a social buffer wasn’t totally freaking you out like it normally would, you were excited. You tucked yourself in a little isolated reading nook on the second floor, losing yourself in sketching your plans for everything while you waited for this dude to show up.

It was easy to lose yourself in your plans, so engrossed in your sketching you didn’t even hear him come in. Curtis spent a good five minutes looking for you when he got there, finally walking up the stairs and sighing when he caught a glimpse of you all hidden away. He couldn’t even be mad that you hadn’t acknowledged him even after he’d called for you, the way your nose was all scrunched up in concentration and how you kept pushing this one lock of hair out of your face absentmindedly. God, you were cute.

Curtis leaned on the door frame and ducked his head as he watched you continue to work, finally clearing his throat when you still didn’t acknowledge him after a few minutes and biting his lip to avoid chuckling when you let out an adorable little squeak.

“Cur…Curtis?” Oh god, he was huge, he filled the whole doorway and even then he had to duck so he wouldn’t crack his head against the lintel. It was making you lightheaded. “I… I’m so sorry, I got distracted. Have you… have you been here long?”

“A bit but it’s fine, gave me a chance to check the place out.” He didn’t miss the way your legs squeezed together when he stepped closer to you, his hand completely engulfing yours when he reached out to shake it and helped you rise to your feet. “Are those your plans?”

“Plans? Oh right, plans, yes.” Right now you were cursing your friend for ditching you. You didn’t care how good her excuse was, how the fuck were you supposed to be any kind of coherent when this massive tree of a man who smelled like pine and mountain air was looking at you with those soft, impossibly blue eyes? “Um, maybe we do another walkthrough and I can talk through what I’m thinking for each area?”

“Sounds good.” He clenched his jaw when you walked close to him and stopped short, running back for your sketchbook and then up to him again and then huffing out a cute little flustered breath as you looked all over the room. You were so frazzled and adorable with your stammering he just wanted to rub your shoulders, but he figured that would spook you. And it would be wildly inappropriate, what was wrong with him?

“Ok…ok, so this I was thinking could be a secondary bar and some private booths, maybe?” You shuffled through your papers as you tried to collect yourself. “Like, this bar could be just for liquors and cocktails while the downstairs bar would be focused on the beers and we’d have the kitchen and everything.”

“We can make that work.” He shuffled out of the way when you scurried past him, closing his fist around nothing when you stumbled just a little so he wouldn’t reach out and grab you, because he was pretty sure if he touched you right now he wasn’t going to be able to stop. “How many of the original features do you want to keep?”

“Oh, as many as possible.” You tried to smile at him but looked away immediately when you felt heat flush your face, keeping your eyes on your feet as you walked down the stairs side by side. “That’s kind of the whole point, to preserve as much of the history as we can…”

You took your eyes off your feet for just a second and missed a step because you were looking at just how large the man standing next to you was and thinking about how big he was in places you couldn’t see, like a perv. Curtis moved faster than you would have thought possible to wind his arms around you and keep you from tumbling down the stairs, your shriek getting cut off when he yanked you into his chest and damn it, you swooned.

“Shit, are you ok?” You smelled like fresh baked bread and wildflowers and he had been right, he didn’t want to let go of you. “Maybe we put a railing on these stairs?”

“Ahem… hmm, that’s smart.” You hated how tiny your voice was, your palms pressed to his chest, his very firm chest, as you tried not to lose yourself in how incredibly warm he was. “Safe.”

“Yes, safety is very important.” He couldn’t help himself, he tucked his fingers under your chin and pushed your mouth closed. “Why don’t you show me what else you want to do, then I’ll draw up some blueprints for us to go over, ok?”

“Ok.” You sighed when he released you after giving you a squeeze, showing him to the archives section you thought would work well for the kitchen.

Curtis was just barely paying attention to everything you were saying, but he took in enough through your bashful looks and cute little stuttered explanations that he came up with a good idea of what he could work with. And he managed to make plans for the two of you to meet up in a few days once he’d drawn up some preliminaries, giving you a soft smile when you thanked him and squeaked out that you were looking forward to working with him. He was gonna have to get better control of himself, Hal would give him so much shit if he turned into a flirty idiot on the job site.

[kim-bobbae]

54. “I made reservations.”

I miss him so much and I hope he’s resting up, I just want to take care of him and be his comfort person TT

“To be really honest, I have no idea what he’s busy with until I see a recording or photoshoot of his on my schedule, and then I’m summoned to do his hair and makeup,” You laughed. “At this point I think it’s a relief he renewed his contract with AOMG instead of signing with H1GHR, don’t you think?” 

“I’m right, he really is the dad that’s never home,” Wonjae chuckled, tugging lower on his beanie. 

You were in the car on the way back to the AOMG headquarters after Wonjae’s photoshoot where Pumkin had dropped by in support since it was his first ever solo shoot for W magazine when the topic of Jay came about as you guys discussed the responses received from the interview they had done that was uploaded just a few days ago. With how busy Jay had been and how rare it was to see him around at the AOMG headquarters, their questions on what he had been up to very naturally fell on you because who else would know better if not for his girlfriend, right? 

Wrong. You had absolutely no idea either. 

Yes, there was the H1GHR compilation – you knew that much – but so did everyone else. The fact that you didn’t know much more than that surprised them, to say the least. 

“Do you want me to nag at him a little and drop him a hint or two? I could do that,” Pumkin offered. 

“Oh please no, I don’t think he’ll be too pleased if he finds out I’m whining about him to you guys behind his back.” 

“Not exactly, we’re the ones asking you about him,” Wonjae rebutted. 

“Yeah, when was the last time you guys went on a date?” Pumkin asked. “Don’t count the ones where you guys order delivery from the office or his studio, those aren’t counted.” 

“Why not? Those are dates…” 

“I see where the problem lies now,” Wonjae snickered. 

“C’mon, you guys are making this a bigger deal than it actually is,” You remarked. “We’ve been dating for years now, we’re past that.” 

A few days passed since then with nothing really out of the ordinary except for a dinner with your friends that you’ve managed to fit into your schedule after clearing an important deadline. With a couple of music releases coming up, you were attending meetings with different artists, talking to them about their ideas and concepts, proposing hairstyles, make up and clothing that would be suitable for their music videos and teaser images. 

While the job did sound manageable, the very act of browsing endless collections of the latest fashion releases was extremely time consuming, and squeezing in a short conversation or two with Jay via text message was, in fact, pretty much the norm these days with the both of you being so busy. Not that you minded – you just got used to it. 

And so did he. 

You understood though, really. You understood that he was a busy man and while you were important to him, he simply could not afford to put you in the center of his world. But he tried, and he did all he could to show you that. Yet, with that workaholic nature of his and all the people he had to put on for, work would always be his priority. 

It was just hard facing up to it last week when you tried your luck at getting some affection by cuddling up to him while he was reviewing some tracks during the ten minute window that the both of you were left alone in the studio – you couldn’t help it, it’s been a whole month (!!!) – only to earn a ‘I’m working, babe’ in a tone you don’t usually appreciate. He apologized, of course, realizing that he had hurt your feelings from the way you retreated quietly to another room, but it did enough to keep you from attempting it again for the remainder of the week. 

“Dinner tonight?” 

A message notification flashed across your screen. It was Jay. 

You didn’t think much of it though and readily agreed to it. For a split second, you wondered if Pumkin had a part to play in this and the smirk on his face as the receptionist walked in to the office towards you with a bouquet of roses in hand only confirmed your suspicions. 

“Looks like someone sent you flowers,” She said, handing it to you. 

Now Jay wasn’t really one who’d be into these flashy, romantic gestures, especially in front of his employees, and the number of heads that turned towards your direction with knowing smiles on their faces made you understand exactly why. 

Take a longer lunch break to get ready if you need to, I’ll be at the office at 7pm to pick you up.

You raised a brow at the formalities as you read the message on the card. Having been together for years, being on the receiving end of this somewhat grand gesture all of a sudden needed some getting use to again but with everyone’s attention on you and the extremely elaborate bouquet, you quickly set is aside, an embarrassed smile the best you could muster in response to their reactions before you got back to work. 

Consumed by your pile of work, you had completely lost track of time since then but it wasn’t hard to tell that it was already 7pm from the way your colleagues peeped curiously from behind their desk dividers, stifling their excited giggles and from their reaction you could already guess that Jay was here. It wasn’t every day that they could catch a glimpse of their boss’s love life, after all. 

“Ready to go?” He asked, and what ensued was a moment of confusion the second you turned around to face him. 

He was all cleaned up in a black tee shirt and dress pants, hair styled back and you were pretty sure those were some new shoes from his two hundred deep sneaker collection while there you were, in a pair of skinny jeans and oversized sweater and it was obvious that you guys weren’t dressed for the same occasion. 

You hesitated, “…last minute schedule to attend to?”

“No…I’m taking you for dinner?” He mused, gesturing to the flowers. “I made reservations.” 

“Yeah but…you didn’t tell me that I had to get dressed up,” You replied sheepishly. 

“I did,” He laughed. “You just didn’t take me seriously.” 

“You said ‘if you need to’,” You argued in a hush whisper. “Plus, the last time you picked me up we had tacos at the diner just down the street.” 

For a while he stared at you, and so did everyone else and in all honesty, it was getting slightly embarrassing by now. Thankfully, Jay caught on your discomfort from the way you played with your fingers and bit on your lips as you waited for his reply. 

“It’s okay, we’ll sort this out,” He reassured in a soft voice, grabbing the bouquet in one hand and yours in the other. “Let’s go.” 

“Where are we going…?” You asked once the both of you were in the car. 

The fact that one of his managers wasn’t driving you guys and that he was instead driving his Bentley for the first time in ages did explain something about what he had planned but for now, everything about this made you nervous. This was so unlike him – excluding the first year of your relationship, that is. 

“We’re going to your favorite Italian restaurant,” He explained. “But I guess we should drop by your place to get you dressed up first, huh?” 

“Sorry about that,” You murmured, and he couldn’t help but titter at the way you stared down at your outfit with a sigh. 

You wasted no time and tossed your bag aside upon reaching home, making a beeline towards your wardrobe and immediately started sieving through your dresses. Despite the rough start, you had to admit that this was rather exciting. Heck, you couldn’t even remember the last time the both of you had a proper date night and the fact that he had taken the time to plan this amidst his schedule? Damn you were about to dress the hell up. 

You hastily put on the dress that you had picked out, a fairly new one from the few that you had saved up for rare occasions like these, then scurried to the living room where Jay was waiting. 

However, the sight of Jay burying his face in his hands looking absolutely worn had you somewhat stopping in your tracks. 

He was seated on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his lap as he squinted at his cracked phone screen. His brows furrowed as he tapped away at what sounded like a new message notification, then brought his phone up to his ears as he listened to what probably was a demo of one of the tracks off the album. Sure, he was dressed up, absolutely stunning, but how stressed he looked was definitely not a good look on him and at this point you weren’t sure how you’d feel about dinner if his mind was going to be miles away, back in his studio. 

“Wow,” He beamed upon noticing you then set his phone aside as he stood up. “You look beautiful.” 

“I could say the same for you, too.” 

“You okay?” He asked, cocking his head upon noticing that you seemed to be distracted in thought. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Come here, let me help you with that,” He smiled, noticing that the back of your dress was unzipped. 

But as he placed his hand on the zipper, you reached around to tug on his fingers, then turned around to face him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Why don’t…we just have dinner at home today?” You suggested, observing his reaction carefully. 

“Why the sudden change of mind...?” 

“I don’t know,” You sighed. “I mean, you seem really caught up with work, and I love that you took the time to plan a date, but I’m not sure if I can sit through that pretending that I am not seeing for myself how exhausted you are.” 

“No, no it’s fine,” He insisted. “I’m taking the night off to spend it with you.” 

The both of you glanced at his phone as it beeped again and then back at each other, and you could almost tell how he was already itching to respond to it. 

“I’ll cook us dinner, and we can postpone this date until after the album is released,” You told him. 

He looked at you, not quite sure if he was allowed to give in to you, especially after the little episode in his studio last week that had also been due to his work. 

“I’m not mad, I promise,” You giggled, reading him like a book. “Let’s stay in tonight.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, go get your MacBook from the car and carry on with your work while I cook but all I ask for though...” You started. “Is for your undivided attention after that. I’ll cook a stew if it gives you more time.” 

He exhaled deeply, taking a step towards you and pulled you in for a long embrace, “How do you always manage to make me feel better even though I’m the one who screwed up?” 

“You didn’t screw up,” You said, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. “You tried, and I appreciate that.” 

“That makes me feel worse...” He replied, cupping your face and stroking your left cheek with his thumb.

You leaned into his touch, smiling, “It’s no big deal, this is just one of your busy phases. Once the album’s released, I’ll have my boyfriend back. Easy.” 

“I’ll make up for it, alright? I promise,” He said, then leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

“Seems like the only way to get kisses nowadays is to let you work, huh?” You taunted. 

“Baby…” He whined, the littlest pout creeping to his lips. “Let’s not go back there.” 

“I was kidding,” You sniggered. “Now give me another one to shut me up.”

[bubonickitten]

Fic summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Full chapter text & content warnings below the cut.

Content warnings for Chapter 29: discussion of Jon’s & Daisy’s restrictive diets & associated physical/mental deterioration (and potential parallels with disordered eating etc.); arguing & relationship disputes (that are not immediately resolved in-chapter); self-harm (burning oneself with a lit cigarette); cigarette smoking; discussion of suicidal ideation; panic & anxiety symptoms; discussions of grief & loss; cyclical mental health issues (post-traumatic anniversary reactions; related self-loathing, internalized victim blaming, & survivor’s guilt; generally speaking, Jon’s relapsing into self-isolating, worse-than-usual headspace, esp towards the end of the chapter); depiction of parental neglect/rejection (Martin's mother). SPOILERS through S5.

There’s also a Hunt-themed statement that contains descriptions of indiscriminate violence & unprovoked warfare against a civilian population. Oh, and a cliffhanger.

Let me know if I missed anything!

_________________

“Statements ends,” Jon says, somewhat breathless as he fumbles to stop the recording.

“You alright?” Daisy asks.

“Fine.” The word is punctuated by a click and a whirr as the recorder resumes spooling.

“Are you, though?”

“Yes.” Scowling, Jon jabs his finger at the stop button – only for it to keep recording.

“It’s the Hunt, isn’t it.” Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry it’s been so prominent for the last few. I’m… not quite scraping the bottom of the barrel yet, but–”

“It’s fine, Daisy.”

“Still, I–”

“I said it’s fine–!” Jon winces at his sharp tone. “I’m sorry, that was… I’m just – on edge, I suppose.”

Which is an understatement, really.

Because it’s September. It’s September, and after September is October, and October is–

Well. These days, he can’t even look at a calendar – can’t even look at the time and date on his phone – without icy dread coursing through his veins.

Sporadic flashbacks have become an everyday occurrence, set off by the smallest of stimuli: a dropped glass shattering on the breakroom floor becomes a window bursting inward into shards; a thunderstorm heralds a fissuring sky, marred by hundreds upon thousands of greedy, unblinking voyeurs; his own voice is a doomsday harbinger, a key crammed into a lock he can’t keep from unbolting. The memories are too immediate, too vivid to feel past-tense.

It’s to be expected. Studies, common knowledge, and anecdotal evidence all point to the impact of anniversaries on mental health. He knows what a textbook post-traumatic stress response looks like. Monster or not, in this particular sense he remains overwhelmingly human. No matter how much he rationalizes it, though, intellectually understanding a psychological phenomenon does little to soften the lived experience of it.

And it does nothing to temper the chilling knowledge – bordering on conviction – that it may happen again.

“Would be worrisome if you weren’t stressed out, considering… you know. Everything.” Daisy leans back in her chair, stretches her legs out in front of her, and rolls her shoulders. “Speaking of the Hunt. Any new developments?”

“I mean… nothing since yesterday? Everything I know, Basira knows.”

“Basira… isn’t keeping me updated,” Daisy says, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Ah,” Jon says, with tact to spare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

Daisy sighs. “She thinks that I think she’s wasting her time.”

“And do you?”

Daisy gives a jerky shrug. “Don’t you?”

“Not… necessarily,” Jon hedges. Truthfully, his answer to that question is as mercurial as his moods these days, shifting from hour to hour, sometimes minute to minute. Daisy gives him an unimpressed look. “I won’t lie and say I’m optimistic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.”

“You sound like Martin.”

“Well, he spent ample time drilling it into me,” Jon says with a wry smile. “I don’t have the same capacity for hope as he does, but improbable doesn’t mean impossible. If I’d had it my way, I’d have lain down and died ages ago. I’m only here now because of him.”

“Mental health check,” Daisy says automatically.

“Not thinking of hurting myself,” Jon replies, just as rote. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I’ve told you, I’m physically incapable of killing myself even if I wanted to.”

“That doesn’t stop you brooding.”

“Anyway, I wasn’t referring to anything recent.”

“Weren’t you, though?” At his blank look, Daisy gives an impatient sigh. “It hasn’t even been a year since you woke up, Sims. Up until six months ago, you were wandering an apocalyptic wasteland–”

“…I found myself utterly alone. Facing down a room full of nothing eyes, willing myself to take action. I never did, though–”

“–I wanted to act, to help, to do something, but – my mind had all but seized up, and I felt helpless to do anything but watch as events progressed–”

“–there was nothing I could do to save him – he died – so did any hope I had of – doing good in the world–”

“–there’s a sort of numbness that you adopt after months or years of bombing–”

“–I did spend a lot of time just… slumped in despair – had no reason to think it would help, but I could see no choice but waiting for death–”

“–hoping against hope that – it wouldn’t be forever–”

“Hey!” Daisy’s voice finally breaks through the rush of static. Or perhaps it was the pressure: Jon looks down to see her bony fingers caging his own in a bruising grip.

“Sorry,” he says, catching himself as he starts to list woozily.

“Not to say ‘I told you so,’ but…” Daisy gives his hands another light squeeze. “You sort of just proved my point there.”

“I’m well aware that I’m – traumatized, or whatever–”

“Not ‘or whatever’–”

“–but I’m not a danger to myself, so could we please just move on?” Jon mumbles, averting his eyes. “You wanted a Hunt update.”

Daisy scrutinizes him for a long moment before she allows the conversational pivot to stand.

“Basira said you’ve heard back from that Head Librarian,” she says, “but she blew me off when I started prying.”

“Zhang Xiaoling,” Jon says, his shoulders relaxing. “She was able to confirm some of Jonah’s intel. They do have a statement about a book matching that description in their records, and she agreed to forward a copy once it’s been digitized. They’re further along in their digitization process than we are–”

Daisy snorts. “Probably because they’re actually working on it.”

“That, and they have the benefit of a Head Librarian who actually has a background in archival studies,” Jon says drily. “In any case, they have a large archive, so it’s a work in progress. She’s processed our inquiry, though, and she says she has someone on it. We should hear back by tomorrow at the latest.”

“Huh,” Daisy says. “Sounds…”

“Like a functioning archive?”

“I was going to say ‘streamlined,’ but sure.”

“The wonders of a hiring process that prioritizes job qualifications as opposed to a candidate’s apocalyptic potential.”

“What are the chances their institution is also led by a centuries-old corpse with a god complex?”

“Non-zero, I imagine.”

Daisy wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, don’t say that.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have evidence one way or the other.”

“It doesn’t. Does she know about…” Daisy waves her hand vaguely. “All of this? The Fears, Rituals… Jonah?”

The question gives Jon pause. He thinks back to his meeting with Xiaoling all those years ago – well, last June, from her perspective.

“Some of it, I think,” he says slowly. “She seemed familiar with some of the Archivist’s abilities. There were parts of my visit that struck me as odd at the time. I didn’t realize until later that she had been speaking both Chinese and English at different points in our conversation.”

Daisy frowns. “She didn’t clue you in?”

“She didn’t, no. But…”

Elias made a good choice, the Librarian’s voice echoes in Jon’s mind. I did offer him someone, but he thought the language might be too much for him.

It does tickle me, Jonah’s voice chimes in, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose.

“I don’t know if she’s aware of Elias’ true identity.” Jon swallows with some difficulty, his mouth suddenly dry. “Or his intentions.”

“So is it really smart to trust her?”

“If she’s in communication with him, there’s nothing she can tell him that he doesn’t already know. We’re just following up on information he gave us. And he’s likely spying on our correspondence whether she’s in contact with him or not. Not much we can do about that.”

“She could have her own ulterior motives,” Daisy says.

“True enough, but… I got the sense that her primary interest is curation. Studying phenomena, building a knowledge base–”

“In service to cosmic evil,” Daisy says pointedly.

“W-well, yes, but – I don’t think she has delusions of godhood herself, and I don’t think Jonah has tempted her with the idea.” Jon huffs to himself. “He wouldn’t want to share his throne.”

“Hm.”

“I’m not saying we trust her or the Research Centre as a whole. I had reservations about their motives then and I still do. It’s not unthinkable that they’re a front for something more sinister in the same way that the Institute is. But… I don’t think there’s any especial danger in utilizing their library.”

“Sims,” Daisy sighs, “your danger meter is broken beyond repair.”

“In my defense,” Jon says, bracing one arm on the desk to leverage himself to his feet, “at this point, everything is just differing degrees of dangerous.”

As the two of them leave the tunnels, Jon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. When he glances at the screen, he sees a text notification from Naomi – in addition to two missed calls. He frowns to himself. The two of them text regularly, but she rarely calls.

“What’s up?” Daisy asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

“Naomi,” Jon says distractedly, already returning the call. Naomi picks up on the first ring.

“Jon?” Naomi’s voice sounds thick and tear-clogged.

A cold weight settles in Jon’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“I j-just” – Naomi pauses to clear her throat – “just needed to hear a familiar voice.”

“What happened?” Jon asks – and realizes too late that in his urgency to discover the source of her distress, he’s poured too much of himself into the question.

“Nothing.” What starts out as a self-deprecating little laugh quickly deteriorates into a half-sob. “Nothing new, anyway. It’s always like this, this time of year. Evan and I didn’t have an exact date planned, but we’d talked about an autumn wedding. Thought it would be fitting, since we met in September, you know? Tomorrow is our anniversary, actually. Or – or it would’ve been. A-and then by the time I’ve picked myself back up, the holidays will have crept up on me, and that’s always hard, and – and then before I know it, it’s March, a-and that’s its own kind of anniversary, and it’s just… it’s a lot.”

“Oh, I – Naomi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” she says with a sniff. “Don’t think I would’ve been able to get it all out, otherwise.”

“S-still, I–”

“It’ll be three years this March. And it still feels like it was yesterday. I spend six months out of the year feeling like I’m still stumbling through that cemetery, and I just…”

This time last year, Jon thinks with a lurch, I was still the monster in her nightmares.

And even now, he still pulls her there whenever they’re both asleep.

“When does that stop?” Naomi laughs again, a desperate, pleading thing. “When does the healing come in?”

“I… I don’t know,” Jon says truthfully. “Anniversaries are… they’re hard enough on their own. It doesn’t help that… well, it’s difficult to heal from something when you’re still living it.”

“What do you mean? Evan’s dead,” Naomi says, her voice breaking on the word. “He’s not coming back. It’s… it’s over.”

“There are still the dreams. The narrative might have changed, but the stage dressing is still the same.” Jon draws his shoulders in, one arm pressed tight to his stomach. “Keeping the memory fresh.”

“It’s not so bad.” Naomi sniffles again. “Better than being alone.”

“‘Alone’ or ‘nightmares’ shouldn’t be your only options.”

“I have my own nightmares, you know,” Naomi counters, sounding slightly annoyed. “When I’m asleep and you’re not. And they’re worse, because in them, I actually am alone. Nothing supernatural about it. It’s just… me.” She sighs. “This time last year – and the year before – I didn’t have anyone. And I just… I didn’t – I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not,” Jon says. “Not anymore.”

“I – I know, but I…” Naomi takes a breath. “I was… I was thinking – maybe tomorrow I could come by.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says gently, “truly I am – but it’s not safe. Especially for you, especially right now. Not with Peter here.”

Naomi is already the equivalent of an unfinished meal to the Lonely. That, together with her association with Jon, is more than enough to mark her as a potential target should Peter take notice of her.

“Feels safer than being alone,” Naomi says. “The Duchess helps – a lot – but I…” She lets out a fond but tearful chuckle. “I can’t expect her to grasp the nuances of… grief, or loneliness, or what have you.”

“How about this,” Jon says. “We tell Georgie what’s going on – as much or as little as you’d like, even if it’s as simple as ‘I don’t want to be alone right now.’ I doubt she’d be opposed to having you over.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose. I mean, I – I’ve not spent much time with her outside of just… spamming the group chat with cat photos. I like her, but she’s your friend. I’m just… a friend of a friend.”

Nestled between the words is a familiar sentiment, unarticulated and nonetheless resounding, echoing all of the earnest conviction it had when first she made such a confession: All my friends had been his friends, and once he was gone it didn’t feel right to see them. I know, I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded, they would have said they were my friends too, but I could never bring myself to try. It felt more comfortable, more familiar, to be alone…

“People can have more than one friend,” Jon says. “I can’t speak for Georgie, but she wouldn’t go out of her way to talk to you if she didn’t like you.”

Indeed, that might be the reason Jon was able to open up to Georgie in the first place. He observed early on that she had no qualms disengaging from people whom she had no interest in getting to know. Whatever Jon might have felt about himself on any given day, the simple fact of the matter was that Georgie would never have let him get so close if she hadn’t seen something redeeming in him.

And she likely wouldn’t be letting him stay close now if she didn’t still see something worth salvaging.

“It’s up to you, of course,” he says. “I won’t pressure you. But I think Georgie would be more receptive to friendship than you expect. And I think – I think you’d get along with Melanie, too.” Naomi is silent on the other end of the line. “At the risk of overstepping, I… I know being alone feels like the natural state of things, but it doesn’t have to be. If you want, I can talk to Georgie. Lay the groundwork. I won’t give her any of the details – it’s not my story to tell – I’ll just let her know that you’re feeling alone and could use some companionship.”

“Okay,” Naomi whispers. “Just… let her know she’s not obligated.”

“I will. On the extremely off chance she says no, or if she’s busy tomorrow, I can keep you company remotely. We can spend the whole day holding up the office landline if you want.”

“It’s a Friday.”

“And?”

“It’s a work day?”

“Naomi, my job is wholly comprised of monologuing to any tape recorder that manifests within a six-foot radius and doing my utmost to render my department as counterproductive to both the Institute’s professed and clandestine organizational objectives as humanly or inhumanly possible.” Naomi barks out a startled laugh. “I won’t be fired no matter what I do – which is a shame, seeing as it became my foremost professional development goal somewhere between finding out my boss murdered my predecessor and virtually dying in an explosion at a haunted wax museum. Barring a sudden and unexpected apocalyptic threat – which, admittedly, is unlikely but not unthinkable– I’ve already cleared my non-existent schedule for you.”

“Okay.” Naomi makes a sound somewhere between a sniffle and a chuckle. “Thanks. Really.”

“Any time.”

_________________

The statement is an unnerving, circuitous thing: a firsthand account from an unnamed member of the Drake-Norris expedition in 1589. In many ways, it’s eerily similar to the last statement Jon accessed from Pu Songling’s archives: Second Lieutenant Charles Fleming’s shellshocked, guilt-fueled confession of atrocities committed under orders.

The historical record is rife with accounts of Francis Drake’s cruelty, Jon knows: his role in the transatlantic slave trade, the unprovoked massacres committed in his name, the preemptive strikes that incited further bloodshed. The statement giver speaks in awestruck horror of the bloodlust lurking in the man’s eyes, the vitriolic fervor with which he undertook his campaign to seek out and destroy the remnants of the Spanish fleet – and the depths of his rage when his efforts ended in defeat. Humiliated, he turned his vengeful eye to the Galician estuaries.

The writer tells plainly of his own complicity in the sacking of Vigo, razing the town to the ground and slaughtering its inhabitants with indiscriminate zeal. For four days Drake’s men carried out their rampage, retreating only when reinforcements arrived to stem the tide.

“You may ask yourself,” the Archivist reads on, “how it is that a man born into the reign of Good Queen Bess sits before you today, some four centuries past his due?

“You see, as we left the shores of Galicia that day, I heard from behind us a vicious braying, as if someone had set loose a great host of hounds. They were close – close enough for me to sense their stinking breath hot on the back of my neck. Such a thing was impossible, for we were by that time far from shore, having already rowed half the distance between the beach and the waiting armada. That did not stop me dreading the dogs lunging and tearing into me at any moment.

“I am not ashamed to admit that I let out a whimper.

“As the seconds ticked by and the pack failed to descend upon us, my curiosity grew to outweigh my terror. I turned to look – and was thus ensnared. It was, I realize now, the instant at which I became beholden to the blood. My greatest folly.

“Perhaps I oughtn’t have been so surprised to see no hounds surging toward us atop the waves, but you must understand that the proximity of their snarling was far more convincing than their visual absence. In looking behind us, though, I was able to appreciate the havoc we left in our wake: the great plumes of ash rising from the smoldering rubble, backlit by a flickering orange glow, and wails of despair so profound as to combat the noise of the wind, the waves – even the discordant shrieking of the hounds.

“It was a scene of such devastation as I had never seen before or since. Looking back, I think upon the acrid stench of charred flesh on the breeze with horror and… indescribable remorse. It shames me now to admit that at that time, I had never felt such… rapture.

“That was when a motion caught my eye. Between the distance and the billowing smoke, it should have been impossible to discern such detail, yet there he was: quarry I had left for dead, emerging from the debris and staggering away from the ruins of his… wretched life. As he looked out to behold our retreat, I could see the grief playing on his face, the fury, the fear – but what most set my blood to boiling was the spark of relief I saw in his eyes.

“It awakened something in me – a famished and merciless thing, composed of tooth and claw and a mind beginning and ending and utterly encompassed by the call of the pack. With a roaring in my ears and a single-minded violence supplanting my sensibilities, I deserted the rowboat and swam to shore. A chorus of howls carried me forward, and I let them be my wings, steering me down the swiftest, straightest path to my target.

“I slowed for nothing, and I made certain my prey did not live through the night.

“As you can likely guess, the chase did not end there. Those baying devils who had so called me forth continued to hound my steps, nipping at my heels, spurring me ever onward to the next quarry. Those who once knew me would scarcely have recognized what I became. Whenever I dared look into a mirror, I would see in myself a dogged, seething violence so akin to that which had lived in the eyes of my former commander. A cruelty that once had frightened and repulsed me had become the blood and breath of me.

“For a time I sought to refrain from the chase. The longer I refused the call, the weaker I became. The hounds’ breath on my neck grew hotter; their braying swelled louder. I found myself wasting away: always hungry, never sated. Eventually my faculties began to slip. I would lose myself to such… bestialimpulses, and only the stain of blood on my teeth would return to me my reason. It pains me to confess to you now that it did not take long before I ceased my resistance entirely.

“It was at the turn of the sixteenth century that I happened upon the artefacts now in your possession. Their previous owner was a formidable adversary. I spent nearly a fortnight tracking him before I managed to run him down, and he fought like a tempest before he fell.

“Ordinarily I did not linger after a kill, instinct hastening me ever onward to the next great game. As I turned to leave, though, I was overcome by the sense that the hunt was… unfinished. Troubled, I reached down to check the man’s pulse. I was reassured to find him quite dead, but as I drew back, I noticed the brooch.

“It was a simple thing made of tarnished copper, fashioned into an incomplete ring, the ends of which resembled the heads of dogs. The moment my fingers brushed that ornament, I knew it was meant for me. It went into my pocket with nary a conscious thought.

“The itch of the hunt was still crawling down my spine, though; the frantic snuffling of phantom hounds yet filling the air all around me. I continued to search his person until I found what was calling out to me: a thin volume bound in leather. Curiosity ever my folly, I opened it.

“Up until that point, I had never learned to read nor write Latin with any degree of mastery. Yet I could understand the text within with perfect clarity. The script did not transform to English before my eyes, nor did the book render me proficient in the language. No, I simply… beheld the pages, and the meaning flowed into me.

“The story tells of Herla, legendary king of the Britons, who visits the dwarf king’s realm. Upon leaving, he is gifted a hound and warned not to dismount his horse until the dog leaps down. When Herla and his men return to the human world, they discover that not days but centuries have passed: all those they had known have long since perished, and the Saxons have taken possession of the land. In their distress, some of the men dismount, whereupon they turn to dust. Herla warns the survivors to stay in their saddles, to wait until the dog leaps down.

“‘The dog has not yet alighted,’ the author tells us, ‘and the story says that this King Herla still holds on his mad course with his band in eternal wanderings, without stop or stay.’

“The next several pages are unreadable. The language resembles none I have ever encountered, and I have yet to find a soul who can decipher it. I can however attest its hypnotic qualities. I have spent many hours mired in those words, but I could not for the life of me tell you what I saw there. Others to whom I presented the text found themselves either enthralled or agitated, though none could recall such episodes once lucidity returned to them. I expect you mean to unravel its secrets, but you may do well to let its mystery stand.

“The final passage – a single page, this written in English – tells of Herla’s escape: how, weary and driven to despair, he casts the dog from the saddle and into the River Wye. The instant the hound hits the water, Herla and his band crumble into dust, at last meeting the same fate they spent so many hundreds of years trying to outpace.

“I have had hundreds of years of my own since first reading the tale to digest its message, and that is why I come to you today. Although I have killed several times since these items came into my possession – it should come as no surprise that there are those who covet them – I have not sought out a single hunt since I vanquished the man who yielded me these trinkets. The hounds at my heel have not ceased their clamoring, but so long as the brooch is on my person, they cannot sink their teeth in me. I am always hungry, yes – but I am no longer starving.

“But I am also weary. I have come to understand that even as the hounds can never catch me, they will never leave me. In my four hundred years, I have played the role of both the hunter and the hunted, and have learned that they share the same ultimate plight. Whether I be predator or prey, I am trapped in the throes of an endless pursuit. So long as I should live, my blood shall never quiet.

“And that is the key: so long as I should live. Even now, the fervor in my blood insists that the hunt is eternal, but I know now that one cannot outrun one’s end forever. Much like my constant, howling companions, Death will always be nipping at my heels. In that sense, he is perhaps the ultimate hunter. Just as I have delivered to him so many souls, neither can I escape his judgment. If ever I am to rest, I must bow to his supremacy.

“And so, like Herla, I shall cast the dog away from the saddle. I leave it in your care now, and the book. I should be so lucky to exit this life with the dignity I denied so many others, though I fear I shall be found undeserving of such a swift end. I can only hope that, whatever my comeuppance should be, I shall have the grace to accept it without complaint.”

With a heavy exhale, Jon depresses the stop button on the recorder, then puts his head in his hands, putting pressure on his closed eyes.

“You alright?” Basira asks.

“More than I’d like,” Jon mutters.

“If I thought there was any chance this guy was still alive, I wouldn’t have given you the statement to read.”

“I know. Just…” Jon waves his hand vaguely.

“Unpleasant, yeah.”

And rejuvenating, Jon thinks bitterly. It’s only been a few days since his last statement from Daisy, and already he had begun to feel famished.

“They sent along some supplemental records,” Basira says, rifling through printouts. “The statement is cross-referenced with two objects in their Collections Storage – here.”

The document she slides across the desk contains two catalog listings:

Item No. 9820702-1

Description: Pennanular brooch, copper alloy. Geometric and interlace motifs. Confronted zoomorphic terminals (canine profile). Moderate surface oxidization and patination. Dimensions: 5.5cm x 4.5cm body; 12.5cm pin. Artefact dated ca. 500–700 CE.

Properties: Primary subject (Case No. 9820702) reports mediating effect on the Hunter’s affliction (unverified). Item implicated in subject’s alleged abnormal longevity (unverified). Further study suggests dormancy and/or lack of reactivity to unafflicted subjects (see associated Investigation Log).

Storage: Special Collections – Inorganic Storage, Container Unit No. 982-05. Acid-free board housing, etherfoam packing. Environmental parameters in brief: maintain stable temperature (16-20°C); relative humidity, 32-35%; light levels, <300 lux. Handling protocols as per Acquisitions & Collections Policies and Procedures §3.5.3: Artefact Preservation – Metals – Copper and Copper Alloys.

Access: Upon request. Curator approval required prior to initial visit. Applicants may submit statement of intent to Acquisitions & Collections Department Head Curator for clearance. Terms, procedures, and degree of supervision subject to Curator’s discretion.

Provenance: Surrendered 2nd July, 1982 upon receipt of accompanying statement (Case No. 9820702), subject name unknown. See also Item No. 9820702-2.

Appendices:

· Investigation Log No. 9820702-1;

· Supplemental Documents Nos. 9820702-1.01 through -1.03.

Cross-reference:

· Case No. 9820702;

· Item No. 9820702-2;

· Acquisitions & Collections Catalog §3.6.4: Antiquities – Adornments and Jewelry (Inert).

Item No. 9820702-2

Description: Bound manuscript. Front and back covers unembellished leather (source undetermined) stretched over wood board (source undetermined). Leather cord binding (calf, bovine). Paper and parchment leaves. Ink corrosion and paper degradation present but minimal (fair condition inconsistent with age and media). Dimensions: 8.8cm x 14.0cm x 2.5cm. Artefact dated ca. 1190–1450 CE.

Contents: Eighteen (18) pages total, one-sided.

· Title page (1) iron gall ink on parchment (sheepskin): Gualterius Mappus – De nugis curialium – xi. De Herla rege

· Pages two (2) through four (4) iron gall ink on paper (hemp pulp, linen fiber): Medieval Latin (ca. 12th century) script.

· Pages five (5) through sixteen (16) ink (chemical composition undetermined) on paper (cotton fiber): alphabetic script (unknown roots); refer to Supplemental Document No. 9820702-2.03 for comparative linguistic analysis (inconclusive).

· Page seventeen (17) ink (chemical composition undetermined) on paper (cotton fiber): Middle English (ca. 15th century) script.

· Page eighteen (18) parchment (sheepskin): blank.

Transcripts and translations (where possible) provided in Supplemental Document No. 9820702-2.01*.

Properties: Primary subject (Case No. 9820702) reports total comprehension of Latin portions of the text despite lack of proficiency. Text alleged to diverge from source material (De nugis curialium – Map, Walter, fl. 1200). Both claims verified upon further examination (see associated Investigation Log). Probable association with the Hunter’s affliction.

Storage: Special Collections – Secure Storage. Environmental parameters in brief: maintain temperature at 20-22°C; relative humidity, 32-36%; light levels, ≤50 lux. Housing and handling protocols as per Acquisitions & Collections Policies and Procedures §2.5.5: Document Preservation – Premodern Inks – Iron Gall and §9.2: Special Precautions – Occult and Esoteric Texts.

Access: Restricted.

Provenance: Surrendered 2nd July, 1982 upon receipt of accompanying statement (Case No. 9820702), subject name unknown. See also Item No. 9820702-1.

Appendices:

· Investigation Log No. 9820702-2;

· Supplemental Documents Nos. 9820702-2.01* through -2.07;

· Incident Report No. 9930214.

Cross-reference:

· Case No. 9820702;

· Item No. 9820702-1;

· Acquisitions & Collections Catalog §2.1.1: Archival Media – Occult Books (Active);

· Interdepartmental Bulletin No. 9941002, “The Library of Jurgen Leitner: Lessons Learned.”

*Addendum, 16th February, 1993:Supplemental Document No. 9820702-2.01 reclassified as Restricted Access. Direct all inquiries to Pu Songling Research Library Head Librarian or Acquisitions & Collections Department Head Curator.

“So?” Basira prods. “What do you make of it?”

“Well, assuming the statement is a reliable account, it seems…”

“Promising, right?” Basira says, her eagerness tinted with relief. “If we can–”

She stops abruptly as the tape recorder on the table clicks back on.

“I think that’s our cue to move this conversation elsewhere,” Jon says.

Not that it will stop the tape recorders from listening in, but he has no desire to make Jonah’s surveillance any easier for him.

_________________

It takes some hemming and hawing, but Jon manages to convince Basira that this really ought to be a group discussion. As she recaps the statement and shares her own remarks, Jon keeps a close eye on the other two people in the room. Martin is listening attentively, leaning forward slightly but otherwise at ease. Daisy, though… she’s all corded muscles and jittery legs, taut and precarious on the edge of her seat.

All the while, Basira appears impervious to the storm brewing in Daisy’s eyes, even as Martin catches on and begins chewing on the inside of his cheek, darting nervous glances between the two of them. By the time Basira finishes her overview, the tension in the air is palpable, nearly electric.

For several seconds, no one speaks.

“So,” Martin says, his voice a bit pitchy. He clears his throat before continuing. “Magical, Fear-resistant brooch, huh?”

“It wouldn’t be unheard of,” Jon says. “Remember what I told you about Mikaele Salesa?”

“The apocalypse-proof bubble? Yeah.”

“That camera of his didn’t just protect him from the Eye, it hid him from the Powers in general.”

“What was the catch?” Daisy asks pointedly. “Got to be a catch.”

“Does there?” Martin asks. His hesitant smile falls at Daisy’s blank stare, and he tilts his head back with a sigh. “Yeah, alright.”

“It’s… not entirely benign, no,” Jon says. “In Salesa’s statement, he called it a ‘battery’–”

“–charging itself on all the quiet worries that come from living in hiding, and then when the sanctuary collapses, all that fear flows out at once. No doubt, if my oasis breaks before I die, the Eye will get quite the feast from me, but in this new world–”

“That’s enough of that, I think,” Martin says, resting a hand on Jon’s arm.

Jon bites his tongue, shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breath in, only daring to speak once the tingling on his lips subsides. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Martin offers him a reassuring smile. “Just didn’t want you getting bogged down.”

“That’s one term for it,” Jon says, not quite under his breath. It’s true enough, though. Sometimes it feels like the Archive is pressed up against the door, watching for the tiniest crack, waiting for any opportunity to surge through and drag him under. Lately, Martin has grown uncannily adept at sensing when to interrupt these lapses before they spiral out of control – likely because they’ve been growing more frequent.

“That’s what I thought,” Daisy says. Puzzled at the apparent non-sequitur, Jon glances at her, but she isn’t looking at him. All of her attention is focused on Basira. “This thing is probably the same. It’s not some… some harmless miracle solution. If we mess around with it, it’s bound to blow up in our faces sooner or later.”

“I’m… not sure about that, actually,” Jon says. “The brooch didn’t free the Hunter, it just made it so he couldn’t be caught. I think that’s what it was feeding on – the Hunter’s gradual awareness that he was no different from the hunted, that sensation of being perpetually stalked from the shadows by a greater predator. It spent centuries charging itself on that fear, and it culminated in the realization that he would never escape it. He would always be waiting for the axe to fall, and Hunt was happy to keep him as perpetual prey. If he wanted the chase to end, he had to give up the artefact – and once it was no longer keeping him in stasis, he had a choice to make.”

“Go back to hunting, or let it catch him.” Daisy breathes a humorless laugh. “The Hunt, or the End.”

“But it would keep you alive,” Basira says. “It would buy us time to find a way to free you for real.”

“What about the Leitner?” Martin asks. “That’s what Jonah sent us after in the first place.”

“Turns out it’s not actually from Leitner’s library,” Jon says. “No bookplate, and it seems the statement giver had it in his possession since the 1500s. It’s… difficult to tell from the statement whether it had any significant effect on him. He called it ‘hypnotic,’ but he was already a Hunter by the time he found it. I imagine it might have different effects on someone not already under the Hunt’s influence.”

“He sort of alluded to that.” Basira takes a moment to peruse the statement, running her finger along the page until she finds the relevant line. “Here – they ‘found themselves either enthralled or agitated.’ A bit obscure, but… he says it like it’s an afterthought. If it outright turned anyone into a Hunter, he probably would’ve said so.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous,” Daisy says.

“I never said it wasn’t,” Basira replies coolly. “The record references a transcript, so I assume they had someone read it at some point. And it also mentions an incident report.”

“What was the incident?” Martin asks.

“Don’t know,” Basira says. “They didn’t provide any of the supplemental documentation, just the catalogue listing and the statement itself. But they acquired the book in ‘82 and didn’t make the transcript restricted until ‘93, so… either it was dormant when they first studied it and became active later, or they didn’t study it closely enough to activate its effects, or it doesn’t affect everyone the same way, or – or maybe their workplace safety guidelines just changed and they decided not to risk studying it anymore.”

“Jonah did say something about its effects varying depending on how much of it a person reads, right?” Martin asks. “Though who knows where he got that from.”

“There might be some truth to that,” Basira says. “The catalogue entry does describe what’s on the title page, so I’m assuming that part at least is safe. I’m most curious about the untranslated chunk in the middle.”

And I’m a universal translator, Jon thinks, fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie. Basira’s eyes flick to him, as if reading his mind.

“I… suppose I could–”

“No,” Martin and Daisy say simultaneously.

Jon scowls. “You didn’t even let me finish the–”

“You threw yourself into the Buried – twice – to save me,” Daisy says severely. “You can’t keep sacrificing yourself at every opportunity.”

“I wouldn’t be–”

“What, re-traumatizing yourself by reading a Leitner?” Jon shuts his mouth, pressing his lips tightly together. “It’s not worth it, Sims.”

“Daisy,” Basira begins, but Daisy cuts her off.

“No. I’m not having him throw himself to the wolves just because you’re curious.”

Basira flinches, hurt momentarily crossing her face before her expression goes stony.

“You really think that’s what this is about?” she says, her voice shaking. “Knowledge for knowledge’s sake? Me being curious?”

“You can’t tell me you’re not,” Daisy says, and then her expression softens. “And I love that about you, I do – you’re brilliant, Basira – and driven, and passionate, and…” She sighs. “But sometimes… sometimes you need to let things go.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon notices Martin cross and uncross his legs, his lower lip captured between his teeth. When Jon catches his eye, Martin jerks his chin minutely at Basira and Daisy, a grimace on his face. All Jon can offer is a helpless, equally awkward shrug. Near as he can tell, Basira and Daisy seem to have momentarily forgotten that they have an audience, and judging from their locked eyes and thunderous expressions, he doubts either of them would appreciate a reminder right this second.

“Let you go, you mean,” Basira says tersely. “When you say ‘it’s not worth it,’ what you really mean is that you’re not worth it.”

“Well, I’m not.”

The cavalier tone is the last straw, it seems.

“Why won’t you just let me help you?” Basira slams her hand down on the rickety table, straining its wobbly legs. “You’re just so ready to–” She lets out a frustrated groan. “You never used to give up this easily.”

“Maybe should’ve done,” Daisy says flatly. “Might’ve lowered my body count.”

“Giving up Hunting doesn’t have to mean giving up on living,” Basira says. “I might have finally found an alternative, and you won’t even consider–”

“I’m not doing anything that’s going to hurt someone, and that includes exposing Jon to a fucking Leitner.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Jon mutters testily, the friction finally getting the better of his nerves. “Don’t I get a say?”

“No, you don’t,” Daisy says, rounding on him. Now that all of her brimming agitation is funneled in his direction, he regrets saying anything at all. “Because lately, whenever I ask you if you want to hurt yourself, the best you can give me is ‘it doesn’t matter because I can’t die anyway.’”

“Jon?” Martin says urgently, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Th-that’s not what I–”

“You’re not thinking rationally,” Daisy speaks over Jon’s stammering. “You’re thinking like a condemned man with a rope around his neck and something to prove, and I’m not going to be the noose you use to hang yourself with.”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Basira says heatedly. “You get on my case about double standards–”

“That’s enough!” Martin bursts out. “This isn’t helping. Daisy’s right, Jon. You’re not going anywhere near that book – I don’t want to hear it,” he adds before Jon can retort. “Not now, anyway. We’ll talk later. But Basira’s right, too,” Martin says, turning his attention to Daisy. “You can’t make amends by dying, and you can’t do better going forward if you’re not alive to try.”

“Who says I deserve a chance?” Daisy says.

“Whatever you think you ‘deserve’” – Martin gives Jon a meaningful glance as he says it – “you’ve got a chance, and people who want to help you through it, and you ought to consider that before you assume you’d do more good dead than alive.” He exhales a sharp breath. “Anyway, forget the Leitner, and forget what Jonah said about it. The brooch seems like the more promising option here.”

“I agree,” Jon says, cowed. “Between the book and the brooch, the statement giver credited the latter with keeping the Hunt at bay. And perhaps my bias is showing, but truthfully I – I’m not inclined to see those books as anything but tragedies waiting to happen.”

“What’s the difference?” Daisy says flatly. “It took a decade for something bad enough to happen for them to make the Leitner’s transcript restricted. The brooch could be just as much of a time bomb. Just because it doesn’t have any ‘incidents’ connected with it now doesn’t mean it never will.”

She isn’t wrong. Looking back, Jon had found it infuriating that Leitner would continue meddling with the books even after he witnessed the horror they wrought, all while claiming to have learned from his hubris. Just because this particular artefact isn’t a book doesn’t make it any less ominous.

And yet…

“I think it’s already shown its more sinister side,” Jon says slowly.

“You think,” Daisy scoffs.

“It doesn’t give a Hunter strength, it makes them perpetual prey. It… won’t be pleasant for you, I’m sure,” Jon admits, “but Basira’s right – it could keep you alive while we search for a better solution.”

“There might not be a better solution,” Daisy says stubbornly.

“Which is what I said before you browbeat me into taking statements from you,” Jon counters.

“I didn’t browbeat–” Jon raises his eyebrows. Daisy gives a flustered groan. “It’s just – it’s different, okay?”

Much as Jon wants to disagree, he knows better than to argue. They’d only end up talking in circles.

“I think it’s an avenue worth pursuing,” he says. “Given the alternatives.”

“Please, Daisy,” Basira says. “Just… consider it, at least.”

The for me remains unspoken, but Jon can hear it loud and clear. As can Daisy, it seems – the defiant set to her jaw falters for a moment before she tenses again.

“Fine,” she says grudgingly. “But if it starts to go south–”

“If it manifests any new properties, we’ll prioritize containing it over interacting with it,” Jon says.

“You promise?” Daisy asks, but she looks at Basira when she says it. It takes a moment, but Basira does nod.

“Do you think Pu Songling will let us have it?” Martin asks. “Seems like their protocols are…”

“Rigorous?” Jon supplies.

“You’d almost think they were running an academic institution or something,” Basira says drily.

“Yeah, but treating the artefacts like museum pieces, it’s… it’s weird, isn’t it?” Martin says. “It’s not as if they’re fragile, right? They’re held together by… nightmare alchemy, or whatever.”

“I suppose it’s to be expected,” Jon says. “I know the Librarian has a degree in information science. And I recall her telling me that the Curator is an historian with a background in museology. But you’re right – it would be nice if Leitners were as delicate as the average old manuscript.”

“At least they’re flammable,” Daisy mutters.

“We spoke with the Head Curator,” Basira says. “She’s willing to work out a trade.”

“A trade?” Martin asks.

“Knowledge for knowledge,” Jon says. “An artefact for an artefact. I get the impression that the Librarian and the Curator are both very… collections-oriented. True to their titles, I suppose.”

“Hold up,” Daisy says. “‘The Librarian,’ ‘the Curator’ – are those just job titles, or are they, like… Beholding Avatar titles?” Jon blinks at her, perplexed. “I mean – the way you keep saying them, it’s sort of like…”

“What, ‘Archivist’?” Jon gnaws on his thumbnail as he pauses to consider. “I… don’t know, actually. I wasn’t really doing it consciously? It just…” He shrugs helplessly. “It felt right.”

“Is it coming from the Eye, then?”

“I have no idea, Basira.” Jon leans forward, props his elbows on his knees, and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Hm.”

“In any case…” Jon exhales slowly, forcing himself to sit up straight again. “They seem to take the research and curation aspects of their roles to heart. They aren’t reckless with their pursuits, they take ample precautions, but the scholars at Pu Songling do study the items that come into their possession. And from what I understand, the Curator takes avid interest in adding to their collection. Same as the Archivist’s role is to record stories. To what extent her efforts are driven by her connection to the Eye versus her own innate curiosity, I couldn’t tell you, no more than I can make that distinction in myself.”

“Sort of a chicken-or-egg situation, then,” Daisy says.

“From an evolutionary perspective, the egg came first,” Jon says automatically. “Amniotic eggs have been around for over three hundred million years. Birds originated in the Jurassic, true galliforms didn’t evolve until at least the Late Cretaceous, phasianids don’t appear in the fossil record until about thirty million years ago, and chickens as we know them were only domesticated about eight thousand years ago–”

“Oh my god,” Daisy groans, putting her head in her hands.

“What?” Jon says, heat rising in his cheeks as Martin muffles a snicker beneath his hand. “I’m not wrong.”

“Pu Songling’s Collections Department is larger than our Artefact Storage,” Basira interjects, “but the, uh… Curator has a shortlist of artefacts she’s been on the lookout for. I checked our records and found a match. A ring – probably belongs to the Vast, based on the reports surrounding it. Looks like the Institute purchased it from Salesa in 2014, shortly before his disappearance. The Curator considers it an ‘equitable exchange,’ but she still wants to assess the ring in person before making the trade.”

“And we still have to talk to Sonja,” Jon adds. “On the one hand, she likely wouldn’t object to being rid of an artefact, but on the other hand… I imagine she won’t be keen on letting it out into the world.”

“I think it would be a harder sell if you were just going to swap it out for another artefact – something unfamiliar that they’d have to develop all new protocols for,” Martin says. “But yeah, even if you won’t be making the brooch her problem, she’ll probably still want to know what we want with it. And I can see her pressing the Curator on why she wants the ring when she gets here.”

“The Curator won’t be coming here,” Basira says evenly, casting a surreptitious glance at Daisy to gauge her reaction. “Says she’s too busy to travel.”

“So you have to haul the ring up to her,” Daisy says.

“I mean” – Basira breathes an uneasy laugh – “it’s a ring. Not much hauling involved–”

“Oh, don’t start–”

“–and there are precautions I can take. Looks like Artefact Storage has relatively thorough documentation for this one.”

“‘Relatively’?” Daisy repeats, unimpressed. “You were just complaining about how sparse their records are. ‘Relatively’ isn’t saying much.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing.” Basira rubs at her face. “I have to do this. Just… trust me.”

“You know I do–”

“Then let me have your back,” Basira says, practically pleading. “Let me help you.”

“Fine,” Daisy mutters, her posture going slack. “Do what you want.”

It’s not exactly a resounding endorsement, but it’s as good as they’re likely to get.

_________________

Despite Daisy’s lack of enthusiasm, Basira immediately throws herself into making arrangements. The Curator at Pu Songling is more than accommodating, seemingly as eager as Basira to make the trade. The real challenge is the Head of Artefact Storage.

It takes over a week of cajoling, lengthy justifications, and a concerted, collaborative effort from Basira, Jon, and Martin before Sonja finally, albeit reluctantly, agrees to discuss the matter with the Curator. Over the following days, Basira and Jon facilitate negotiations between the two: mediating a fair amount of (professional, but nevertheless pointed) verbal sparring early on, and later arbitrating the terms and conditions of the trade.

“You’d think that in the course of dealing with literal supernatural evil on a daily basis,” Basira gripes at one point, “bureaucracy wouldn’t be the biggest priority.”

“I’ve found that the bureaucratic process gives me ample time to make assessments,” Sonja says, unruffled. “Red tape has a way of bringing out the worst in people. Sometimes that’s a procrastinating student who woke up this morning, realized their deadline is next week, and ‘needs access to our materials, like, yesterday,’” she says, complete with finger quotes and a mocking tone. “And sometimes it’s some shady rich snob who’s been consistently cagey about his motives, and eventually he starts to go from impatient and entitled to desperate and frustrated, and that’s when the red flags start popping up crimson. After a while, you learn to distinguish the mundane sort of desperation from the more sinister sort.”

“Huh,” Jon says, smiling to himself. He knew Sonja was clever, but he never knew she was so calculating. It seems Jonah made the same mistake with Sonja as he did with Gertrude – overestimating a person’s curiosity and malleability, underestimating their prudence and pragmatism, and then promoting them to a position where they were free to act in a decidedly un-Beholding-like manner.

Once Sonja is sufficiently assured that the Curator has no intentions of utilizing the artefact or allowing it to venture beyond the secure confines of Pu Songling’s Collections Storage, the process starts to go a bit more smoothly. As expected, Sonja is amenable to the prospect of having one less piece of malignant costume jewelry, as she puts it, provided the Archival staff take full responsibility – both for the ring once Basira signs it out and for the artefact they receive in exchange.

“The ring has a compulsion effect,” Sonja tells them. “Makes people want to put it on – and once it’s on your finger, it’s not coming off until you hit the ground. Luckily it’s not a particularly active artefact, at least not compared to some of the other things we have here. I wouldn’t call it safe, obviously, but” – she raps her knuckles on the wooden beads of the bracelet on her opposite wrist – “it’s never breached containment.”

The how and why become abundantly clear upon seeing the closed ring box, so caked in earth and grime that it’s impossible to make out the color or material underneath.

“Buried, I take it,” Basira murmurs, giving Jon a sidelong glance.

“Yeah.” Jon grimaces at the phantom taste of soil on his tongue. “An artefact to contain an artefact.”

“Looks like the Curator is getting a twofer,” Basira says.

“Fine by me,” Sonja says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s the box it came in, actually. Don’t know why it works, but it does, and that’s all I care about. So long as you keep it closed, the worst you’ll get is vertigo. As far as we’ve observed, anyway. There’s always a chance that an artefact has more secrets than it lets on at first glance. Assuming you know everything there is to know is a good way to end up in a casket.”

“We’re well aware,” Jon says. “Believe me.”

“Seriously, though – if this goes tits up, I don’t want to hear it,” Sonja says sternly, all but wagging a finger. “And if you call up here a few months from now to tell me that you’ve got a rogue artefact wreaking havoc in the Archives, and I’ve got to put my people at risk to contain it, I will unleash unholy hell.”

The funny thing is, Jon believes her.

_________________

Despite the progress they’re making on obtaining the Hunter’s brooch, dissent continues to simmer within the group – particularly where Daisy is concerned. As the escalating tension in the Archives becomes ever more tangible, Martin begins to feel claustrophobic under the weight of all the things left unspoken.

Daisy is consistently ill-tempered: bellicose in one moment and taciturn in the next, frequently seeking out solitude whenever her agitation gets the best of her. Martin suspects that her volatile mood has as much to do with her deteriorating condition as it does to do with her lingering aversion to the rest of the group’s efforts. Although she and Basira haven’t had another row – so far as Martin is aware, anyway – there’s been an undeniable friction between them. On the worst days, Basira keeps to herself, burying her head in her research while Daisy slinks off to some dark corner of the Archives to brood until Jon comes to drag her away from her thoughts.

Not that Jon is much better. He’s been sullen lately, growing more withdrawn, sleeping less and jumping at shadows even more than usual. Martin often catches him in a trance, staring vacantly into space and droning horrors under his breath. More and more he lapses into statement clips mid-sentence, regardless of how recently he’s had a statement. Sometimes, all it takes is a momentary slip for Jon to lose his footing and devolve into a frenzied litany of back-to-back, fragmentary horror stories. On a few recent occasions he’s lost his voice entirely, though luckily it’s only been for an hour or two at a time.

(So far, Jon says morosely after each episode.)

Most unsettling, though, is the chronic faraway look in his eye, like he’s seeing something else. Like he’s somewhere else, lost across an unbridgeable divide.

Martin is well-acquainted with the sensation of feeling alone in the presence of others. That doesn’t make it any less distressing. It’s not that Jon intends to be distant. He might not even be aware of it; would likely be mortified if he knew just how much that detachment stirred Martin’s longstanding fears of isolation and abandonment. Jon’s still affectionate, after all. Although he seems reluctant to actively seek out comfort these days, he’s still prompt to take an outstretched hand, to lean into a kind touch, to accept a proffered embrace. Still makes a concerted effort to muster, however feebly, a soft smile whenever Martin enters a room. Still attempts to be present and attentive and open.

But sometimes it feels like Jon is out of reach, separated from the rest of the world, watching it pass him by through layers of frosted glass. Martin knows the feeling. What he doesn’t know is how to fix it.

Before long, Basira is set to leave for Beijing, an artefact of the Vast nestled away in her luggage amidst assurances to Sonja that, yes, under no circumstances will Basira attempt to take it on a plane or into the open ocean because, no, Basira does not have a death wish, thank you very much.

Martin half-expects another quarrel to break out on the eve of Basira’s departure, but Daisy is oddly subdued. Perhaps she just doesn’t want to part ways with angry words and unresolved arguments, or perhaps she’s simply come to accept the rest of the group’s decision to move forward with the plan. Considering the dark circles under her eyes, though, it’s just as likely that she’s simply too fatigued to start a fight.

A few days later, Martin descends the ladder into the tunnels to find Jon standing at his makeshift desk, staring down at the map unfurled across its surface – the product of the group’s ongoing efforts to survey the sprawling tunnel system of the former Millbank Prison. The blueprint-in-progress is an equally sprawling thing: sheets of mismatched paper layered one atop the next and taped together, its irregular borders comprised of haphazard angles and dog-eared edges.

The hand-drawn map on its surface is chaotic, reflecting the penmanship of four different authors. Jon’s contributions might be the messiest – the burn scar contracture on his dominant hand renders his lines shaky at best, and his handwriting has always been a tad chickenscratch. Daisy’s isn’t much better. Conversely, Basira’s additions are the neatest, her strokes as steady as the persona she tries to project to the world. Martin’s are passable, if only because, unlike Jon or Daisy, he actually has the patience to use rulers and book edges to trace straight paths.

To be fair, it would probably look a mess no matter how painstaking they were in constructing it. The tunnels are as labyrinthine as expected: a vast network of arterial corridors with offshoots along their lengths, branching into three- or four-way forks, most of which lead to dead ends. Occasionally, they find a path that loops back around and connects other parts of the maze, creating a series of meandering, convoluted closed circuits. It’s difficult to tell just by looking, but they are (Martin hopes) making progress. At the rate they’re going, they have to be on track to find the Panopticon before the winter solstice.

In any case, as Martin approaches the desk, he sees that familiar vacant look on Jon’s face, as if he isn’t actually seeing what’s in front of him. The effect is underscored by the cigarette burning away in his hand, hanging limp and forgotten at his side. Martin clears his throat lightly, in deference to Jon’s hair-trigger startle reflex. He doesn’t count the fact that Jon doesn’t jump at all as a success. If anything, it’s cause for concern.

“Jon?” Martin tries. There’s a slight delay before Jon glances over, giving Martin no acknowledgment aside from a sluggish blink before lowering his head again.

“I, uh…” Martin offers a weak smile, attempting to keep his tone light. He gestures at the cigarette. “I thought you quit?”

Jon shrugs, refusing to meet Martin’s eyes. “Not like it’ll kill me.”

“Might catch up with you later, though,” Martin says, scratching at his neck. “You know, once we find a way out of here.”

“There is no ‘out’ for me,” Jon says mulishly.

“You don’t know that. Or Know it.” Jon’s only reaction is to press his lips tightly together, like he’s biting back a retort. “Look, I’m not trying to nag you, I just wor– Jon!” Martin yelps as he watches Jon put his cigarette out on the back of his hand.

Martin lunges forward, grabbing Jon’s hand and yanking it close to inspect the damage. It’s the same hand that Jude shook, already textured and pitted with webs of hypertrophic scarring. Somehow, Jon managed to plant this newest burn on a patch of previously-undamaged skin, sandwiched between two bands of knotted tissue.

The contours of her fingers, Martin recognizes with a queasy lurch – followed by another when he thinks to wonder whether Jon sought out that scrap of healthy skin on purpose just now.

Jon barely reacts, staring into space with wide eyes and dilated pupils. Martin looks down again to see the circular singe mark already knitting itself back together, leaving only a small, shiny patch of discoloration ringed with a dusting of ash. In all likelihood, even that will be gone by morning.

If only all wounds would heal so easily.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Martin hisses, fighting to keep his voice even. He brushes a soothing thumb over the spot, as if to apologize to the abused skin on Jon’s behalf.

Jogged out of his reverie by Martin’s sharp tone, Jon stares daggers at him, his mouth open as if to unleash a scathing reprimand, the set of his jaw so reminiscent of those early days in the Archives. An instant later, though, he withers, cringing away and fixing his eyes on the floor.

“I wasn’t,” he mumbles, at least having the decency to sound contrite. “Wasn’t really paying attention.”

It’s not the first time Martin’s witnessed a self-inflicted injury. When pressed, Jon always claims that it’s not a deliberate, planned form of self-punishment, but rather a reflex reaction that kicks in when he starts feeling adrift in time. Somewhere along the line, it seems, he convinced himself that physical pain is as good a shortcut as any – a sort of panic button to bring him back to the present when he needs grounding.

Whatever his intentions, though, and no matter what rationalizations Jon wants to dole out, it’s not a healthy coping mechanism. And it’s difficult for Martin to believe that self-punishment doesn’t factor at all, considering Jon’s obsessive guilt spirals and his blasé attitude towards being hurt.

“‘S already healed,” Jon says with a spiritless shrug. He drops the snuffed-out remainder of his cigarette on the floor and unnecessarily grinds it under his heel.

“That’s not the point.” Martin doesn’t realize how tightly he’s grasping Jon’s hand until Jon winces. Although Martin relaxes his grip somewhat, he doesn’t let go. “It doesn’t matter how quickly your body heals, or that you’ve had worse, or whatever other justifications you want to make. You’re still getting hurt. That’s not okay, and – and if it were me in your shoes, you’d be telling me the same thing.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon’s hair falls to cover his face as he ducks his head.

It’s fine, Martin almost says – except it’s not, is it?

“Come on,” he says instead, guiding Jon to sit in the nearest chair before taking a seat next to him. Where before Jon was all stiff limbs and rigid spine, now he looks like he’s given up the ghost, drooping like a wilting flower.

Though he allows Martin to keep hold of his hand, Jon doesn’t return the pressure. And Jon’s skin is freezing – no doubt partly due to the damp chill of the tunnels, and partly because he has, by his own admission, always had shit circulation. Combined with his limp fingers and loose grip, though, the overall effect is far too reminiscent of those months spent keeping vigil over Jon’s hospital bed, his hand nothing but cold, dead weight in Martin’s.

It took too long for Martin to admit that he had been foolish to hope that Jon was still in there somewhere, aware of Martin’s presence, fighting to regain consciousness. The whole time, Martin was just keeping his own company. Jon wasn’t just unreachable – he wasn’t there at all.

(Martin had been wrong about that in the end. He doesn’t know that he’ll ever forgive himself for not being there when Jon woke up.)

Martin bites his lip as he formulates a response. He’s learned over the years that when Jon is like this, it’s best to strike a careful balance between docility and defiance. Push too hard too fast, and Jon will dig his heels in; approach him too tentatively, and he’s liable to interpret concern as pity; force him to talk about his feelings, and he’ll bolt; smother him with tenderness, and he’ll balk.

Granted, Jon has become much more receptive to tenderness over the years. Most of the time, anyway. When his skewed self-worth and convictions about what he does and doesn’t deserve don’t get in the way.

“At the risk of being a nag–”

“You’re not a nag,” Jon says softly.

“When’s the last time you had a statement?”

“A few days ago.” The response is too quick, too automatic.

“A few days ago,” Martin repeats, allowing a bit of disbelief to seep into his voice.

Jon nods stiffly. “Monday, I think.”

“Today is Tuesday.”

“I–” Jon cuts off his own retort, turning to blink owlishly at Martin. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Martin says, his heart sinking. Jon must be losing time again. “So you had a statement yesterday?”

“No, I – I don’t…” Jon squints up at the ceiling, wracking his brain. “I don’t think so? It’s – I think I would recall if it had been shorter than one day.”

“So, last Monday?”

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Jon says, growing testy. “I suppose. Must’ve been.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.” The admission is devoid of all the simmering agitation that had been there only moments before. Now, he just sounds tired.

“Well… I think you might be due for one.” Although Martin had been striving for gentle suggestion, there’s a harsh edge to the words. Rather than get Jon’s hackles up again, though, he seems to crumple under what he doubtless reads as an accusation.

“You’re right,” he says hoarsely. “And I’m sorry. I know lately I’ve been…”

“Tetchy,” Martin offers, just as Jon says, “a bit of a prick.”

“Your words, not mine,” Martin says with a tentative grin. Jon returns his own feeble half-smile, but it quickly falters.

“I’ve almost exhausted Daisy’s catalogue,” he confesses. “Only a handful left now. I’ve got to make them last until the solstice.”

An apprehensive chill runs down Martin’s spine at that. “And then what?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

There’s virtually no chance that Jon, prone to rumination as he is, hasn’t been dwelling on it.

“Basira said she has a few statements, right?” Martin asks. “Which… if you already have a statement about an encounter, can you still get nourishment from other statements about it, so long as it’s coming from someone else’s point of view?”

“Probably.” Jon shrugs one shoulder. “The factual details of the encounter are less important than the subject’s emotional response. Different perspective, different story, different lived experience of fear.”

“Then… you have my statement about the Flesh attack, but there’s still Basira’s. And – and maybe Melanie–”

“I’m not taking another statement from Melanie,” Jon says tersely. “She’s been tethered to me for too long without say, and I’m not dragging her back in.”

“But if it’s consensual–”

“It won’t be, because I don’t consent.”

“If the alternative is literally starving–”

“I’ll find another alternative. Or I won’t. But I’m not asking Melanie for a statement.” Jon keeps his head bowed, but he looks up at Martin through his lashes. “The first time she quit, I was worried that she might show up in my nightmares again, but she didn’t. I don’t know if her severance from the Eye will keepher out of my nightmares if she gives me a new statement, and… I can’t risk it. I can’t do that to her. Even if the nightmares weren’t an issue… I’m not going to ask her to relive yet another traumatic experience for my benefit–”

“–I shall choose to die rather than take part in such an unholy meal–”

Jon claps a hand over his mouth, a panicked look in his eye.

“…nor shall I take my own life, whatever extremity my suffering may reach,” he tacks on, too much of an afterthought for comfort.

“Which means we need to plan for the future,” Martin says, forcing calm into his voice despite the way his heart picks up its pace.

“But it can’t involve Melanie,” Jon says – gentler than before, but still firm.

“No, you’re – you’re right,” Martin relents. “It wouldn’t be fair to her. But we could still ask Basira.”

Jon makes a noncommittal noise, his expression rapidly going pinched and closed off again.

“Lately,” Martin says, licking his lips nervously, “lately it feels like you’ve been shutting everyone out again. It isn’t healthy–”

“Healthy?” Jon’s glare could burn a hole in the floor. “I don’t need to be healthy, I just need to be whatever it wants.”

Once, Martin might have been daunted by Jon’s scathing tone. By now, he knows that Jon is all bluster – and that the brunt of it is turned inward, against his own self.

“Please, Jon. Tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying me.”

Those, apparently, are the magic words, because Jon finally capitulates.

“It’s October,” he tells the floor.

“It… is October, yeah.” Bewildered, Martin waits for elaboration. When a minute passes with no response forthcoming, he prompts, “Is that… bad…?”

“Historically, yes, it has been,” Jon says with a tired, frayed-sounding chuckle.

“I… Jon, I need you to help me out here,” Martin says helplessly. “I can’t read your mind.”

“October is when it happens, Martin.” Jon glances at Martin once, quickly, before returning his gaze to the ground. He’s twisting one hand around the opposite wrist now, fingers curled tightly enough to blanch his knuckles. “The eighteenth. When everything goes wrong.”

“You mean…”

Jon’s sharp inhale becomes a choked exhale, which in turn abruptly cuts off as the Archive takes its cue.

“…what settled over me wasn’t dread; there wasn’t enough uncertainty for that. It was doom. I was certain that some sort of disaster was on the horizon–”

“–something bad. Something unspeakable. And I would have helped make it happen–”

“–the fear never really went away. I’ve heard that being exposed to the source of your terror over and over again can help break its power over you, numb you to it, but in my experience it just teaches you to hide from it. Sometimes that might mean hiding in a quiet corner of your mind, but–”

“–soon enough, I could no longer fool myself–”

“–the calm I had been getting accustomed to had been torn away completely, and where it had been was just this horrible, ice-cold terror–”

“–that – we can’t escape the ruins of our own future–”

“–a future where – humanity was violently and utterly supplanted, and wiped out by a new category of being–”

“–there are terrible things coming – things that, if we knew them, would leave us weak and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us–”

“–I think in my heart, I have been waiting for this moment. For the final axe to fall–”

“–we create the world in a lot of ways. I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that, when we’re not being careful, we can change it–”

There’s a breathless pause before Jon continues, in a nearly inaudible whisper: “What could I have chosen to change? Would a different path have been possible?”

“It is,” Martin says firmly, “and we’re on it. What happened last time won’t happen again. We won’t let it.”

Jon doesn’t acknowledge the reassurance.

“I should’ve known,” he says with a quiet ferocity, in his own voice this time. “It was too peaceful. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to last. And – and on some level I did know – I knew it wasn’t over – but I just… I didn’t want to be the one to shatter the illusion, I suppose.” His expression goes taut. “Didn’t much matter what I wanted, in the end. But I still should’ve seen it coming. Can’t let my guard down again.”

“How could you have known?” Martin doesn’t intend for it to come out as exasperated. He tries to reel it back, to gentle his tone. “You’ve said yourself that you can’t predict the future–”

“No, but I knew Jonah had plans for me. And I knew nothing good could come of feeding the Eye, but I kept on anyway.”

“It’s not like you were doing it for fun, Jon! You needed it to survive, and Jonah took advantage of that. Or…” No – that makes it sound purely opportunistic, doesn’t it? In reality, it was all part of Jonah’s long game from the start. “He made you dependent on statements specifically becausehe wanted to take advantage of that.”

“I made choices,” Jon says tonelessly. “I can’t absolve myself of responsibility just because Jonah was nudging me in a particular direction.”

“You were manipulated,” Martin insists, “and I’m not having you apologize for surviving it. For not starving to death.”

“You don’t understand,” Jon says, growing more distressed, reaching up with both hands and tangling his fingers in his hair. “When that box of statements finally arrived, I… I couldn’t shoo you away fast enough. I was hungry, yes, but I wasn’t starving yet. I could’ve waited longer, but I just… I wanted one–”

“–should have fought harder against the temptation – but my curiosity was too strong–”

“You shouldn’t have to wait until you’re literally on death’s doorstep before you fulfill a basic need,” Martin interrupts.

“I should when that ‘basic need’ entails serving the Beholding,” Jon says heatedly. “And I – I should’ve known better – should’ve known not to jump headlong into the first statement that caught my eye. I’d known for a while that the Beholding leads me away from statements it doesn’t want me to know. It logically follows that it would lead me towards statements that would strengthen it. If I’d had any sense, I would’ve been suspicious of anything in that box that called out to me. It didn’t… it didn’t feel any different, but I – I suppose that somewhere along the line I just got used to… to wandering down whatever path I was led. I didn’t think, I never stop to think–”

“If anything, Jon, you overthink. You’re overthinking right now.”

Martin has known for a long time now that Jon will latch onto the smallest details, allow his thoughts to branch into an impossible number of routes and tangents, tie together loose threads in countless permutations in the interest of considering all possible conclusions, no matter how outlandish. He will apply Occam's razor in one moment before tossing it into the bin, only to fish it out again: lather, rinse, repeat. His mind is a noisy, cluttered conspiracy corkboard, and he’ll hang himself with red string if given half a chance, just to feel like he’s in control of something.

“It’s easy to look back and criticize your past self,” Martin says, “but he didn’t know what you do. If we knew the outcome to every action, maybe we wouldn’t make mistakes, but we’re only human–”

“Not all of us.”

“–so we just have to do the best with what we have in the moment,” Martin continues, paying no heed to Jon’s grumbled comment. No good will come of guiding him down that rabbit trail right now. Anyway, Martin has a more pressing concern–

“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this sooner?” he blurts out, immediately wincing at his lack of tact. “That came out wrong–”

“Why didn’t I tell you how quick I was to chase you out of the house and sink my teeth into a statement the moment temptation presented itself?” Jon scoffs. “Because I’m ashamed. Why else?”

“No, not–” Martin scrubs a hand over his face. It’s a struggle, sometimes, not to grab Jon by the shoulders and shake him until all of that stubborn self-loathing falls away. “About the fact that you’ve got a – a post-traumatic anniversary event coming up, I mean. You haven’t been well, and I thought I understood why – thought it was just… all of it, in general. But here I come to find you’ve been agonizing over the upcoming date of the single worse day of your life–”

“One of the worst,” Jon says quietly.

“What?”

“I didn’t lose you until much later.”

Martin’s breath catches in his throat at that, a sharp pang shooting through his chest.

“Well… you’ve got me now,” he says meekly. “So – so you don’t have to suffer in silence, is what I’m saying. What happened to you – no, what was done to you – it was horrible, and it wasn’t your fault. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s the truth.”

“Either I’ve always been caught up in someone else’s web, passively having things happen to me with no control over my life–”

“–the Mother got exactly the result she no doubt wanted, one that would lead to a fear – so acute that I could later have that horror focused and refined into a silk-spun apotheosis–”

Jon bites down on one knuckle, eyes shut tight as he waits for the compulsion to subside.

“Or,” he says after a minute, “or I do have control, and I can change the outcome, which makes me culpable. I don’t know which prospect I hate more. Which probably says some unflattering things about me.”

“It’s not that simple–”

“It is,” Jon says viciously. “If there is another path, then I should’ve found it last time!” He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a steadying breath. When he speaks again, he’s no longer bordering on shouting, but there’s a quaver in his voice, a fragility that Martin finds more disconcerting than any flash of anger. “The way I see it, there are two options. One, what happened in my future was inevitable and nothing I could’ve done would’ve changed it – which certainly doesn’t bode well for this timeline. Or, the outcome can be changed, in which case my choices matter, and had I just made better choices, maybe I could have prevented all of this from ever happening in the first place.”

“You’re not being fair,” Martin says, his hands clenching into fists – but Jon isn’t listening.

“Doesn’t make much difference, I suppose. The consequences are the same either way–”

“–billions of – people making their way through life who had no idea what was right above their heads–”

“–would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters–”

“–minds so strange and colossal that we would never know they were minds at all–”

“–idiots who destroyed themselves chasing a secret that wasn’t worth knowing–”

“–there, caught up in a series of events that I didn’t understand but that terrified me – I did the stupidest thing I’ve ever done–”

“–running was pointless. To try to escape from my task would only serve to fulfill another. I finally understood what I needed to do–”

“–I don’t know if you have ever drowned, but it’s the most painful thing I have ever experienced–”

“–I do not suppose I need to dwell on the pain, but please know that I would sooner die than endure it again–”

“Would you?” Martin says abruptly. Jon won’t look at him. “Jon, I need to know if you’re feeling like hurting yourself.”

“What would it matter if I was?” Jon still won’t look at him. “I’m categorically incapable of hurting myself in any way that matters.”

Martin blinks in disbelief. “Okay, that’s blatantly untrue.”

Jon has been a glaring portrait of self-neglect for as long as Martin has known him. That simple lack of consideration for himself, together with compounding survivor’s guilt, was the perfect stepping stone to active self-endangerment. Now that Jon’s convinced himself he’s invulnerable to a normal human death, he’s all the more careless with himself.

“I don’t want to die,” Jon whispers. “That’s the problem.”

“What—?”

“Before, I was unknowingly putting the entire world at risk by – by waking up after the Unknowing, by crawling out of the Buried, by escaping the Hunters, by continuing to read statements like it was – like it was something routine, as unremarkable as – as taking tea. Now, though – now I know better. I know what Jonah is planning, I saw what I’m capable of, and still I… I don’t want to die.”

“Well… good,” Martin says. “You should want to live–”

“It doesn’t much matter what I want–”

“–I never wanted to weigh up the value of a life, to set it on the scales against my own, but that’s a choice that I am forced into–”

“–doesn’t get to die for that – gets to live, trapped and helpless, and entombed forever – powerless–”

“–a lynchpin for this new ritual – a record of fear–”

Shit, Martin thinks the instant he recognizes the statement. It’s the worst of them all, virtually guaranteed to send Jon spiraling.

“–both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you – a living chronicle of terror – a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom–”

“Okay, okay, stay with me–”

“–the Chosen one is simply that: someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck–”

“Jon, can you hear me? Jon–”

“–I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but my god, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was–”

Martin reaches over, taking both of Jon’s hands in his own and squeezing tightly. The pressure seems to do the trick: lucidity sparks in Jon’s eyes and he takes a deep, ragged breath, as if coming up for air.

“There you are. Are you okay?” Martin rubs both thumbs over the backs of Jon’s hands in rhythmic, soothing motions. “Hey, it’s–”

“I don’t want your kindness!” Jon snaps, jerking backwards and snatching his hands out from Martin’s grip.

Both of them lapse into a stunned silence. As mortification dawns on Jon’s face, Martin can feel the color rising in his cheeks. It only takes a few seconds for the blood rushing in his ears to be drowned out by another voice.

Martin can remember with cutting clarity the days prior to his mother’s departure to the nursing home. She had been in (somewhat) rare form, her already-short fuse dwindled down to nothing, sniping at him around the clock, full of caustic observations and spiteful accusations.

I don’t want your help, she had sneered as she entered the cab, swatting his hand away.

It was one of the last things she ever said to him.

“Well, tough,” Martin bites out, “because you deserve it, and you never should’ve had to go without it, and you’re not going to change my mind about that, so you may as well stop trying!”

“Martin, I – I – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

He saw, Martin realizes all at once, his skin crawling with humiliation.

“I’m going to go make some tea,” Martin says, rising to his feet.

Jon reaches out a hand. “Martin–”

“I just need a breather, okay?” Martin says, a pleading note to his voice. His lungs are constricting, his chest is tightening, there’s a lump in his throat, and he really doesn’t want to have a panic attack in the tunnels – or in front of Jon. “I’m not – I’m not angry, okay, I just need some air.”

Jon opens his mouth, then immediately closes it, clutches his hands to his chest, and gives a tiny nod that Martin just barely glimpses before turning to flee.

_________________

“Stop crying,” Jon hisses at himself, furiously scrubbing at his face as the tears slide down his cheeks. “Stop it.”

He plasters the heels of his hands over his closed eyelids. It does nothing to stem the flow, only brings to mind images of pressing himself bodily against a door to hold it closed, only for the crack to continue widening, millimeter after millimeter, the flood on the other side trickling through the gap, rivulets swelling into rivers, frigid eddies biting at his ankles, a whitewater undertow threatening to drag him below the waves–

“Enjoying our own company, are we?”

Once, Jon might have been humiliated to be caught mid-breakdown, raw-voiced and puffy-eyed, especially by Peter Lukas of all people. Several lifetimes spent in thrall to cosmic horrors have a way of putting things in perspective.

“What do you want?” Jon says with as much ire as he can muster.

Peter hums to himself, starting a slow, back-and-forth pace in front of Jon. “It occurred to me that I’ve been derelict in my duties as far as the Archives are concerned–”

“That’s just now occurring to you?”

“–and, as such, I thought it was high time that I met the infamous Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.”

“Well,” Jon scoffs, gesturing at himself, “you’ve met him.”

“I must admit, I was expecting something a bit more… hm.” Peter taps a finger against his lips. “Formidable.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” The scathing sarcasm is rendered pitiful by an ill-timed, involuntary sniffle. Jon can’t bring himself to care.

“The state you’re in, you hardly seem fit to work.” A pause. “Have you ever considered taking some time off?”

“A six-months hospital stay has a way of eating up your PTO, oddly enough. I’m told that payroll already has already had to make special exceptions for my ‘unprecedented’ circumstances.” Jon chuckles to himself. “On multiple occasions. Did you know the Institute considers a kidnapping in the line of duty to be an ‘unexcused absence?’”

“I think you’ll find that Elias and I have different management styles,” Peter says mildly. “I’m open to making allowances – particularly since your department can function so smoothly in your absence. Your assistants have proven themselves to be quite capable of working independently – and seeing as your approach to supervision borders on fraternization, I imagine they would be more productive without excess drama to distract them.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Jon says acerbically.

“No need.” Jon squints at him, and Peter stare him down. “It’s not a request, Archivist. It’s an order.”

There was a time, not long ago, that sneaking up on the Archivist would have been difficult. Only Helen had consistently managed to ambush him, and that was because she didn’t waste time sneaking – she manifested and launched the jump scare in the same instant, giving him no chance to See her approach. Readjusting to a binocular point of view had been a process, but rarely does he find himself yearning for the panoramic field of vision that had been foisted upon him during the apocalypse.

Occasionally, though, there are moments when 360° sight would come in handy. Too late, Jon realizes this is one of those moments.

By the time he notices the tendrils of encroaching fog, they’re already curling around from behind him, pooling at his feet, ghosting across the back of his neck, affixing themselves around his wrists.

“It’s alright,” Peter says placidly, almost soothingly. “You can let go now.”

Jon shivers as his heart pumps ice through his veins, fingers and toes going numb as he struggles for breath.

No. No, no, no, no, no–

“I am not Lonely anymore,” Jon gasps out through chattering teeth.

“No,” Peter says with an air of nonchalance. Then he smiles, sharp and cold and cruel and the only detail Jon can still discern through the fog. “But you will be.”

___

End Notes:

Daisy: hey siri, google what to do if i suspect my bff has been possessed by the ghost of a fussy paleornithologist Jon: why are you booing me????? i’m right

Pretty sure this is the longest chapter yet? Probably bc of the statement. I could’ve split it into two, but, uh. I like that cliffhanger where it is. >:3c (Sorry for that, btw.)

Quite a bit of Archive-speak this chapter. Citations as follows: Section 1: 122/124/011/007/047/155. The Xiaoling quote is from MAG 105; the Jonah quote is ofc from 160; the Naomi quote is from 013. Section 3: 181. Section 5: 058 x2; 144/130/086/143/121/149/134/144/143/069; 147; 017; 147; 057/160/106/111/067/121/129/098; 155/128/160; 160 x3. Section 6: 170, of course.

I’m taking wild liberties with Pu Songling Research Centre’s whole deal. I’m conceptualizing their spookier departments as being like… actually academia-oriented, instead of “local Victorian corpse with illusions of godhood throws a bunch of traumatized nerds with no relevant archival experience into a basement, what happens next will shock you”. Xiaoling is out here like “our digitization is still a work in progress, I’m sure you know how it is” and Jon Sims is like “digitization who? i don’t know her”. (Listen, he tried once. Tape recorder was haunted, he got kidnapped a bunch, there were worms and things, he died (he got better), his boss used him as a battering ram to open a door to Fearpocalypse Hell – it was a lot.)

Likewise, we didn’t get much info about Sonja in canon, so I’m having fun envisioning her as a certified Force To Be Reckoned With (and a bit of a Mama Bear wrt her assistants). Most of the Institute is leery of the Archives (& especially Jon) but Sonja’s seen a lot of shit and Jon Sims doesn’t even rank on her list of Top Spooky Scary Things.

re: the statement – it’s not clear in-text, but I want to clarify that I’m not conceptualizing Francis Drake as being influenced by the Hunt. Fictionalizing aspects of history is tricky, and I’d feel personally uncomfortable chalking up Drake’s real life atrocities to supernatural influence, even in fiction. In the case of this particular fictional member of his crew, he was (like Drake’s real-life crew) complicit in following Drake’s orders for entirely mundane reasons and was only marked by the Hunt at the point in his statement where he first recounts hearing the Hunt chasing after him.

At some point in writing this chapter, I had 137 tabs open in my browser for Research Purposes and like 20 of those were bc my dumb ass seriously considered writing that statement in Elizabethan English before going “what are you DOING, actually.” If I’d tried, it would have come off as inauthentic at best, if not ridiculous, bc I’m unfamiliar with English linguistic trends of the 1500s, and I’d basically be badly mimicking Shakespearean English, which isn’t necessarily indicative of how everyone spoke at the time, and I don’t know what colloquial speech would look like for this particular unnamed character I trotted out as exposition fodder, and it was probably unnecessary to formulate a whole-ass personal history for him for the sake of Historical Realism for a single section of a single chapter of a fanfic, and… In the end, I decided that this pseudo-immortal rando can tell his life story in modernized English, as a treat (to me) (and also to those of you who don’t think of slogging through bastardized Elizabethan prose as a fun endeavor).

Speaking of research – shoutout to this dissertation that had an English translation of the Herla story in Walter Map’s De nugis curialium, and if you want to read the whole story, you can find it on pages 16-18 of that paper. I feel it’s important for you all to know that IMMEDIATELY after Map dramatically proclaims, “the dog has not yet alighted, and the story says that this King Herla still holds on his mad course with his band in eternal wanderings, without stop or stay,” he goes on to say in the next breath “buuuut some people say they all jumped into the River Wye and died, so ymmv. ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ anyways, can I interest you in more Fucked Up If True tales?” (Herla throwing the dog into the river wasn’t in the original story though. I made that part up.)

Thank you so much for reading! <3

[tipsylorie]

Dream Project Pt. 2 {title in progress}

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Hello guys! Here is the second part of the story I have been working on. My friend @w-h-i-t-e-mochi had read this already and she commented that it might feel a bit dragging. So, Im sorry about that but I just tried to emphasise on how Jayceon Stone acts as her assistant. This is not yet proof read tho so, sorry again. But I came to realisation on how Lee Da Hee would make a great Liviana and to be paired with Lee Jun Ho as Jayceon. Therefore, if you want, they can be your character reference. 

Word Count: 2,300

Before Liviana got to her office, she was greeted by her employees with good mornings, and she greeted them all back with a smile and nod of acknowledgement. Once she arrived at her office, she was welcomed with the young man once again with a smile on his face. “Good morning Liv, I hope you had a goodnight sleep and your first schedule for today is supposedly with the Finance Department of the entertainment, but it seems like you should prioritise the meeting with your potential investor, Mr. Stone.”

Liv can’t help but chuckle with how blunt his assistant was as he immediately stated her schedule for today, so she just replies with, “Woah, what’s the rush Jer? Slowly. I agree on meeting with the investor first so maybe update them that after 45 minutes we are good to see each other at the Casa Royale Hotel. I just need to look through the contract again and see area for negotiation.”

Jayceon is a bit flustered with Liviana’s remark of him seems to be in a rush because this is the first time of him doing such job and he just copied what Dexter usually do as his assistant. So, his response went, “Sorry about that Liv. I just tried to be productive by not stalling any tasks that could’ve already been done. The contract is already sent to your email so just check that and I will call his assistant now. So please excuse me.” After saying the last line, Jayceon exited the office and sat on his desk just outside of it.

~30 minutes later~

“Would you like to come with me Jer?” Liv asked the young man as she exited her office.

“Sure, no problem. I already notified the Financial Department of the meeting being moved an hour later.” Jayceon replied with ease.

“Good job!” She said and high fived him. “Now let’s go.” She continued as she led the way to the parking lot where her driver and car awaits.

~At the Casa Royale Hotel~

“Over here Ms. Voss!” Dexter exclaimed as he waves Liv and Jayce to go to his direction. “Thank you for arranging this meeting Ms. Voss and please do have a seat.” Dexter said as he gestured to the seats vacant for the two and they sat as Dexter continues, “Unfortunately Mr. Stone won’t be able to be here as he is in a 1 week leave due to the transitioning of company rights. I hope that is okay as I am given the Power of Attorney as his proxy for today. He had trusted me that whatever agreements we will be having for today is as good to be his as well. So, no need to be concerned.”  He said the last line with a reassuring voice.

Liviana was taken back a little bit as she was expecting to meet the CEO himself, so she answers, “Oh, alright then. I can say by re-reading the contract before coming here is that it was really detailed and somehow stringent.” Liv’s remarks made the vibe feel tense as Jayceon starts to worry and his secretary noticed the faint change of his facial expression. Fortunately, the young woman who has no idea on what caused the sudden change of vibe smiles and continues to say, “But there is need to worry because I like it that way. It will help us keep things black and white and lessen misunderstandings so, I say we seal the deal right away!” She said the last line with enthusiasm and grabs a pen to sign the document. This made the young CEO relax his tense shoulders and gives a smile of recognition to his assistant that he is satisfied with how the meeting turned out.

The partnership was sealed with the final handshake between Liviana and Dexter. Then all of them bid their goodbyes with a last reminder from the older man that after a week, they will meet again to announce publicly about the merger. Liviana and Jayceon conclusively thanked Dexter and took their leave.

Once they arrived back the LV Entertainment building, Jayceon reminded Liviana of her meeting that will take place in 15 minutes.

“Thanks Jer, I will just grab the needed materials in my office. Oh, you can seat this one out because I don’t think I will need an assistant there. So, you can just grab an early lunch or Brunch if you still haven’t eaten your breakfast.” Liviana informed her assistant.

“But I can totally accompany you since it is my job, and maybe… I can give some inputs if you want.” Jayceon tried to reason because she can feel how Liv is being lenient towards him.

She can sense what her assistant is trying to do, and this made her smile, so she replies, “Do not worry Jer, I am not taking it easy towards you but I really don’t find the need to have you there. I can just message you when I need something or when there is something worth noting. But for now, you can just grab your lunch. Okay?”

Jayceon was satisfied with her reply, so he responded, “Sure Liv. Thanks. I will also just arrange the meetings for later to keep everything smooth sailing.”

This made Liviana say, “That would be amazing. Thank you.” She took her leave to proceed to the conference room.

**Jayceon’s Phone**

Message from Liviana: Check Break Even Analysis

Reply sent: Should I check it Liv, right now?

Liviana forgot to put her phone on mute so everyone in the room heard the chime of notification. This made her say, “Sorry guys, please continue.” Then she sent her assistant another message.

**Jayceon’s Phone**

Message from Liviana: No, I will just spam you of the things I need to do. So there’s no need for you to reply.

Reply sent: Oh, okay. Sorry.

Message from Liviana: I said, do not replyyy 😭

Message from Liviana: TLA each branch financial report last month in conjunction of the Entertainment

Message from Liviana: Bake some Choco Moist Cake for Julie

~After many messages later~

“Thank you so much everyone. We need to find solutions soon to add more income without jeopardising the operating expenses. So, I will be all open with suggestions in my email. Okay guys?” Liv informed her staff and all of them agreed then she ended the meeting.

~Back to her office~

“Why is there food on my table? I didn’t order anything.” Liv thought to herself when her secretary enters her office.

“I bought you some lunch in case you’re hungry. I am not sure what to but so I just bought sandwich and Iced Americano to play it safe. I hope it is fine.” Jayceon told her boss.

“It’s actually great! I totally forgot that I haven’t eaten my lunch yet. Thanks. This is actually my go-to food when I am having hard time to think what to eat. So really, thank you Jer.” Liviana told her secretary with genuinely.

Jayceon replies enthusiastically, “No problem, boss. Just doing my job!” He is about to leave then he suddenly remembers something, “May I ask something Liv?”

“Sure.” Live replied as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“With everything you sent me earlier, from the meeting’s notes to your friend’s cake, why did you still forget your own food?” Jayceon asked curiously.

“Yes, I think so. Are you planning on checking up the Academy’s different branches afterwards?” Jayceon asked his boss to confirm and inform that the schedule in the iPad seems incomplete.

It took a while for Liviana to think of an answer so she manages to say is, “Well, all I could think of once I get home is food, maybe that’s why.” She smiled to her assistant with face shows confusion with the lack of answer she replied so she just says, “It’s easier that way. Anyways, what’s next to our schedule?”

While Liviana is taking a sip of her Iced Americano, Jayceon enumerated the meetings that are lined up and this is followed by a question from Liv, “After all these meetings for today, does that end all of the Entertainment’s agendas for the week?”

“Yeah, why? Is there something wrong?” Liviana asked worriedly.

“It’s just that your ex-assistant seemed to forget to update the calendar since what I have now is relatively blank.” Jayceon stated as he looked through the tablet’s screen.

This made Liv ponder for a few minutes and came to a realisation, so she replies, “I believe it was purposely left that way since that is what I instructed her before she left. Hence, we can just leave it like that and have some sort of business trip tomorrow. I will message you the information once I got home because we need to go to the meeting now.”

Jayceon was relieved to know that there was no missing schedule, so he answered, “Sure, I’ll be right behind you Liv.”

After Liviana and Jayceon finished attending all the meetings for the day, she asked him to her office even though it was already passed his clock.

The young man took a seat adjacent to Liviana’s table and she remarks, “Hey, I think I will need your opinion about making the partnership with Stone Corp. public sooner instead of a week. Because I made some thinking the whole day and concluded that it would create traction for the Entertainment. I am not sure if you’ve already seen our latest financial reports that we are close to be in red – and barely breaking even.” Her face is contoured in full worries and anxiousness, she continues, “So I just want to know your opinion if I were to propose this to Mr. Stone, would it be alright or not?” She asked and nervously waiting for Jayceon’s reply.

“Honestly Liv, I don’t think you should rush this. Because one week is not a long time. The best advice I could give you is focus on the events that will happen, both in TLA and the Entertainment. Do not worry too much.” This response from Mr. Stone might come out quite manipulative but as Liv asked him with sincerity, this is the best answer he has based on his judgement with the overall situation.

The young woman took some time to weigh what her secretary just told her, and her reply goes, “Yes. Yeah, I think you’re right. I agree. Maybe let’s conclude for the day and meet tomorrow at the usual time here in the building to gather last minute things.” She informed her assistant, and both bid their goodbyes.

~At Liviana’s House~

“Let’s make the cake first and then eat dinner afterwards before checking all the reports for tomorrow’s trip.” Liv said as she tries to reason with herself.

Her closest friend Julie is having her 27th birthday tomorrow and she is currently supervising the branch of TLA where the Scholarship Audition Programme is going to be held, which is the Municipality of Paradigmia.  It is like the second main branch after the one in the City of Pneumarê. The main branch is the only one located in a city, however due to the development of the Tree of Life Academy the municipalities and provinces where other branches are located, it is becoming a progressive community which at a very near future can make them a city. If you are wondering on why the Final Audition is not going to take place in the city, well… It is because of how it was agreed upon on where annual inter-branch events will take place – and it is through spinning wheel where the names of the branches are written in random order. Therefore, she must make sure to visit Paradigmia at all costs tomorrow.

Going back to Liv’s closest friend, Julie Andews is also her longest friend who also supported her while she was busy integrating an Entertainment company to her family’s Academy. Ever since it was Anne who was more focused on handling the academics aspects, so it took quite a while for Julie to find a place where she truly suitable. Heck, she even attempted to do the financial aspect, but it took a toll on her. Then, one time strolling through the city’s academy branch, she saw the need to develop the extra-curricular activities not just for students who do it for grades but also those who wants to experience it. Especially when she realised that it would be vital for the integration of a Korean Entertainment Company. So, she drew up a proposal on how she plans to execute such developments and it was immediately approved by Liv. Liviana also doubled check it with her parents if such change would be okay and even though it took a week for them to agree, Julie was able to perform her plan without a hitch.

Okay, going back to the cake. After she baked the 3 layers of the heart-shaped cake for Julie she realised that she mixed a hell a lot of batter. So, she just took some of her leftover cupcake cups and make the rest of the red velvet mix into cupcakes. To Liv’s surprise she was still able to great 2 dozen of cupcakes, so she plans to give half of it to Anne as she also promised her a visit yesterday. Liviana successfully iced and decorated the cake and all the cupcakes after several hours, so she proceeds on putting it on her refrigerator to finally have her dinner.

Liviana freshen up before heading to her bed since it was a tedious work and cleaning earlier in the kitchen that made her sweat a lot. Before having her eyes closed, she remembers the reports she must re-evaluate this made her say, “For fuck’s sake.” After another 2 hours she finally got her sleep.

[End of Part 2]