#all that gumption and for what? BETRAYAL?

[wallbang-buzzkill]

ya'll ever notice how short graves is. what's up w that

[caperingcryptid]

Fires and Fabric

@fallenlondonficswap @the-insouciant-scientist @artisanoftheredscience @finerandbonnier @sparingiscaring (Notes: This is, unsurprisingly, for the group event, and for a couple people I saw on the list with a Veils or BaL interest. Hope you all enjoy!

(Additional Notes: It's my first time writing the Masters, so they may be a bit OOC.)

Fires and Fabric

Mr Veils, Mr Fires, other Masters mentioned, Vake/BaL content, brief and off-handed reference to a certain betrayal

(1,016 Words)

Veils was not so often satisfied, but tonight, its bottomless hunger had ebbed...if only, again, for tonight. It was no matter, of course. Tales of the Vake and promises of the fortune placed upon its head drew aspiring hunters in like flies to honey, and as the number of Echoes climbed ever higher, so did Veils' prospects of returning to the Bazaar well-fed and well-amused. 

It picked its teeth with a shard of bone as it ascended the steps, working some of the sinew out from between its fangs. Its latest catch had been some poor, hopeful fool with dreams too big for his head: not unique in the slightest, but still a nice little morsel to feast on until something more fascinating came along.

A hunter was only as good as the prey that they sought, after all. Someone with more gumption would make a fine meal for the Vake, indeed. 

It was ready to return to its lodgings in a good mood (as good a mood as Veils could ever be in, at least) when it sensed, rather than heard, a presence join it on the stairwell. It turned in a whirl of velvet, eyes burning a hole into the creature that had dared disturbed what was otherwise a lovely night.

And that creature was-

“Fires.” Veils glowered, teeth glinting like needles beneath its robe. “What purpose?”

“Temper, temper. I am not so easily frightened as your pet seamstresses.” It held in its hand a lantern, which cast harsh, flickering shadows on the walls around them. It was not so bright that it lit the face beneath the hood, but that was of no interest to Veils anyway. There were far fewer secrets between them than the rest of the city.

“I wanted,” Fires went on, in that strange, honeyed voice. “To have a word about your little...amusements. You were out hunting again, weren't you?”

“Foolish question.”

Fires sighed. ”Perhaps. No, no. It was. But I needed to hear the answer from you. Perhaps I thought there was a chance otherwise, which would be quite foolish of me, indeed.“

”To the point.“

”Never one for small talk, were you? It makes me wonder, sometimes, where that spark of plotting in you came from. Words are what pluck the strings of man, after all, and you are of few.

”And yet, here you are.“ Then, somewhat mockingly, Fires added, ”Veils, the Intriguer.“

Veils scowled. It wasn't in the mood for whatever this was, and already it could feel the sweetness of the night souring. It wanted to return to its chambers, curl up, and sleep away the weight of its meal. It had no interest in hanging around a stairwell like some shifty-eyed urchin while Fires relished in the sound of its own voice.

When it replied, it wasn't in the debasing and irksome words of man. It was somewhere between a snarl and a lick of Correspondence, a fusion that, though brief, was still enough to make the sigils in the walls alight and the tiles shudder beneath them. The closest translation to human tongue, for those curious, would be a particularly colorful suggestion as to exactly where Fires could take its commentary.

Fires calmly adjusted its footing, then raised a single claw in a gesture of peace. ”I'll be on with it now,“ it said. ”The others and I have come to share an opinion: you are getting out of hand. We could forgive your little excursions when they were occasional. But now? Nearly every night? Do you have no self-control?“

Veils puffed up. ”I do not meddle in your affairs, Fires,“ it hissed, begrudgingly picking up speech once more. “You have no right to meddle in mine.” 

“I think we do. I think it is in our best interests to ensure that we're all behaving ourselves. To an extent, of course.”

“I fill my role. My trade is flourishing.” Then, pointedly, “Can you say the same of yours? I have heard word of the Docks.”

Fires didn't rise to the bait as Veils hoped it would. Instead, it went on. “There are less of us than before, when we first came to this place. You know this fact better than anyone.”

It did. 

“Your hunger could very well become your ruin one day, Veils. If not, then it could lead trouble to our doorstep, and none of us are interested in spending our time cleaning up your messes.”

“It's handled.” Veils bristled up. How dare Fires and the rest make such accusations? How dare they think so lowly of it that they think a human could harm it? Humans, with their dull teeth and their flat faces and their stubby little fingers. It was a born hunter. The humans were the soft and succulent prey. London, the city, was its hinterland. 

“It's handled,” Veils spit again. “It is Wines that agrees with you. I know how it thinks. I know its softness. Tell it what I told you: to keep out of my affairs.”

“It worries.”

“Then it is weak.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, Veils' eyes seething and furious, Fires' unreadable. It was Veils who ultimately broke their stand-off, snarling as it turned away from the other Master.

“I am older and stronger and sharper than any little rabbit that could hop to my door,” said Veils. “If they dare, I shall feast on them, and leave their bones as my message. These cities have poisoned you all with softness. I am the only one that remembers what we are.”

Veils ascended a few steps towards its lodgings, paused, then turned again, brushing past Fires in a whirlwind of silks and spite. It needed to shed blood. It would hunt again, and again, and perhaps when it had glutted itself on all it could stomach, it would drop whatever was left of its latest play-hunter through the roof of one of Fires' workshops. 

In its haze of fury and bloodlust, it didn't notice- or care to notice- the somber, knowing way that Fires watched it go.

[ryo-maybe]

Memento.

Sitting alone inside his shack, the old man ponders over the comfort of death.

He does not seek its cold embrace, nor does he wait for it to come seize him. Life clings to him out of a sheer stubbornness parading as honor, the ghost of principles nobody expects him to uphold anymore. Frayed though they may be, the strings will keep him propped up: a marionette at the mercy of emaciated, trembling hands. Even if it is mere stillness, a monument demands no greater purpose than to merely be. To exist, and to remind, to himself and nobody else, that they once were. A long gone people, and the histories nobody will tell about them. Now, all that remains are the budding weeds, a ramshackle hut, and him.

Or so it ought to be, and he cannot help but berate himself for thinking so morbid a thought.

Sitting alone in the twilit penumbra, the old man longs for the finality of death.

Not his own, but that of others. More than the regrets that come from mistakes that can never be fixed, the what-ifs that shall never come to fruition, he abhors the lingering anxiety of a bitter separation. The frantic pursuit of a chance, the frightful escape from an unwanted conclusion. To part is to open a wound that forever bleeds hope and despair alike. Scarring though they may be, the stitchings left by death's steady hands make for a better placebo.

The old man cannot conceive of a greater burden than knowing that another yet lives. A foe you might chance to meet on the road. A lover lost to mutual betrayal. A parent disappeared in a natural disaster. The nebulous chance clings like a parasite to the heart, weighing it down, dragging itself like a corpse that refuses to give itself to the dust.

Sitting alone in front of the doorless entrance to his humble abode, the old man stares ahead and waits, futilely, for a promise to be broken.

The faint, distant footsteps seep through the worn-out scales of his horns like a venom, alerting him to the impending breach in his solitude. His rigid posture tortures the tired bones of his kneeling legs; he pays them no mind. He allows the pain to humble him with a welcome reminder of his lingering humanity, and to keep his focus tense, his senses sharp. He does not open his eyes as he hears the thick soles of reinfoced boots stop on the threshold between the outside and the interior of his bare dwelling.

"Looking stiff as ever, shishou."

He traces the outline of Chiyo's smile over the darkness behind his eyelids. Her gumption bleeds through in carefully measured amounts, through the soft cheer in her voice and the arms folded over her training robes. Always protecting herself, so she can better protect others. Independent, at least until someone else needs to depend on her. She steps in and begins dusting off as if it is the natural thing to do-- which, to her, it is. This is what Chiyo does. What Chiyo would do, if she had not long been dead.

"Oh, I brought you something by the way! Beat it straight outta the hands of some Yanxian thugs... or royals, maybe? Hells if I know."

Tanemitsu too, of course, died far before this farce that occurs once every year. It does not stop "him" from chuckling in a boastful fashion, as "he" is wont to. "His" steps, unlike "Chiyo"'s, are heavy and graceless, betraying "his" eagerness to show off, to prove "himself" with the trophy laid down in front of the old man. Headstrong, insecure, bold and honest to a fault. A pure-hearted lad. He, along with all the others, deserve their peaceful rest.

The bygones keep on haunting the old man anyway, as if to torment him with his greatest regret.

"Enough, Rinne."

Silence. His fingers clutch the curved scabbard without the slightest hesitation: the firm steadiness of his hand, like the shine on the lacquered wood, proofs that the surrounding neglect was not allowed to tarnish either of them. The old man finally opens his eyes and looks up. The dying daylight and the thick shadows in the hut clash together at the doorway's threshold, painting only a dark silhouette of the young woman standing in it. Somehow, however, her eyes seem to shine from the indistinct murk of her form. For a fleeting instant, the old man thinks he can see her: his last pupil, a speck of emptiness buried beneath a myriad phantoms. The momentum he could not bring himself to kill. The inertia he failed to suppress.

"Enough," he whispers again as he slowly stands up, sheathed sword clutched in his hand. For a brief moment, he sees her visage go through a spectrum of emotions, as if trying on and subsequently casting away a pile of masks that do not fit. What she sees in his hardened gaze, whether it is the truth of what he intends to do or a deeper desire he himself does not recognize, he cannot tell; but, eventually, she discards the need for a mask altogether. He watches her wordlessly turn her back to him, her legs leading her to the plain laden with reeds, her hand resting on the decorated hilt of the sword hanging by her hip.

The old man follows her with steps just as firm, grateful and apologetic at once. To put an end to the ceaseless repetition of a cycle. To bring to a halt the turn of this crooked karmic wheel. Behind him, he leaves nothing but a pile of woods he calls home and, laid down on its dusty floor, the finely crafted paintbrush he took care to step around.

[starsarefire824]

Chapter 7: The Yawning Grave

Death Lies In Wait

The whole night and next day pass and Mike has not returned to the house. Max had taken care of her chores, butchered and plucked a chicken and roasted it along with the last of their fresh vegetables in the oven all afternoon. Then she took the bones and made broth. She ate by herself, did some needlepoint and read her bible by the fire until she couldn’t stand it any more, making a mental note to ask Mr. Sinclair for a few books on his next journey out. He is due in a few days and Max is eager to see him again. With darkness starting to fall and her boredom and paranoia over last night's events rendering her completely agitated, there was nothing left to do except head upstairs to bed. 

She sits at the little dressing table that was sure to have been hers . He had called her El in his sleep , and she wonders how she earned that nickname. It was intimately familiar and the way it fell out of his mouth and onto her cheek the previous evening sounded so incandescently… cherished . 

Now El’s dressing table is littered with the few trinkets Max has brought from her parents’ home. There is a framed picture of her mother that sits up on one of the small shelves, a decorative flower hair comb her father had given her the summer before he died that she only wore on holidays and special occasions, a tiny figurine of a bird Billy had gifted her one Christmas, crudely whittled from wood, and her favorite childhood book who’s passages now only serve as a place for her to press flowers. Max scoops a bit of the salve she uses out of a glass jar and rubs it along her cuticles and into the skin of her palms where her calluses are dry and fights how it conjures up the same sensation of the mysterious creature’s fingers slipping along her skin and how her brine soaked lips felt when she kissed her.

Max blinks the images away and removes the pins from her hair. It falls down her back and glides over the laces of the corset she hasn’t removed yet. She rubs her fingers along her scalp and sighs contentedly at the sensation of her hair finally being free from its confines. She takes hold of a large section of it and starts working the tangles out with her hair brush. One stroke then another and another, her eyes wandering out the window towards the darkness that has entombed the house tonight. The two oil lamps are lit up brightly and they cast a rich, warm flickering glow to the room, and the cookstove and fireplace still raging downstairs has made the air hot and close. 

Max catches sight of herself in the small wooden table mirror. Her skin is painted in yellows and orange hues that brings out her thick orange lashes and hair cascading around her shoulders. Her eyes are light blue like the sky on a fine day and she has a splattering of light freckles across her face and along the ridge of her nose. She finds them ruddy and unattractive, but her mother always scolded her for thinking so; for vanity was not something any respectable Quaker should harbor. 

“God does not care what your earthly body looks like, Maxine. He only cares for the beauty in your soul,” she would say. 

She was right, of course. And yet, the bitter part of her wishes her mother would also have lived by her late father’s example of fighting for women’s rights. As any admirable Quaker would. Max wishes she would have challenged her step-father’s wishes of sending her off to marry to a stranger against her wishes with a little more gumption. It went against every one of the teachings she had been brought up with. It felt like cowardice. It felt like a betrayal. 

Even so, her mother was right. Vanity held no place in a respectable person’s life. Growing up, Max had no notion really of the need to feel pretty, didn’t think it of much importance. Any life she imagined for herself held no need for it. And certainly it was inherently useless to a lighthouse keeper’s wife, left on this spit of land to the raging wind and salt and loneliness.

[neoninky]

TWST Fanfic "Her Lost Voice": Chapter 11

Aaand we're back with Chapter 11 (we're in the second half folks)

Chapter 11: A Very Serious Problem

The tension was a solid wall when Proteus entered the Muraeni house with his usual grin in place. He didn't flinch as he floated up the stairs towards the sounds of his master's angry howls. It was the morning after Luna's debut, barely before daybreak, and the entire house echoed with Don Muraeni's anger. Proteus didn't bother knocking as he entered the Don's office. The three collared sons were huddled together as their father verbally tore into them.

"I trust you with the easiest job in the bracket and you only exceed my expectations in fucking it up!" their father snarled his sharp teeth in full view. 

A battered Ventuno lay on the couch holding his head and snickering at his younger brother's misfortune, somehow missing the intense side-eye his father gave him in the meantime. Don Muraeni's seething glare flicked back to his three younger sons. He watched them freeze and wait for his next piercing words but they were only met with an exasperated sigh.

"My boys...I have failed you," his voice cooled and turned somewhat somber. Or at least it tried to be. 

All of the sons looked at each other in confusion. Proteus's sadistic smile only grew as he lingered in the shadowy corners of the room, already seeing certain puzzle pieces falling in and out of place. Their father smoothed out his hair as he took another deep breath to calm himself, "You three, I put too much pressure on you. I should've known your simple natures couldn't handle the burden of my expectations..." 

Any semblance of pride had been literally beaten out of them so the three sons just blinked at their father's words in lieu of being insulted by them. Ventuno, on the other hand, sat up and scoffed, "You got that right, those three couldn't look after a pet barnacle much less-"

"And you, Ventuno...my eldest. My heir,"  the father's words were a frigid, poised and ready dagger, "Get up and stand by your brothers, boy. They need a good example to avoid any future follies."

Ventuno groaned as he rose up from his resting spot and shoved his brothers to the side so he could be front and center. Their father looked all of his remaining sons up and down before turning his back to them, "Your brother, Seven, has dealt me a massive betrayal. He was the most clever of you, even the strongest, something I took great pride in. He was perfect progeny."

The eldest son snarled as his temper flared. He was right there and Seven was the one getting all of his praise?! He was about to complain when Don Muraeni's ice blue, narrowed gaze was locked onto him over his shoulder. 

"I refuse to be made a fool of, boys. And yet those Leech twin punks came and went, right under my nose, and took what was mine. They come onto my territory. They broke into my club. And they stole my prized siren...and whose fault is that?"

The three younger sons remained silent as their older brother barked out a dry answer, "You mean besides these three idiots? Clearly, Seven was fuckin' around before he ran off with those Leech bastards-"

A loud crack across Ventuno's face silenced the entire room as the disappointed father's long tail slinked back behind him. Don Muraeni's eyes practically glowed with intensity about to break through his sculpted frown, "And where were you, boy? Lazing about by my side? Enjoying the fruits my well-earned position brings you?! You fucking louse! I almost prefer your brother's gumption even if it was in favor of my rival's spawn..." 

Don Muraeni paused with a calculating, furrowed brow. If he had been a third-party witness privy to Seven's scheming, he'd be awfully impressed and proud to call him his son with such a sharp wit...a wit that earned the trust of his enemy. Indeed, Seven was the perfect progeny. Or at least, he would be once his father was through with him. 

"Boys," he addressed the accosted sons in a much more calm tone, "an opportunity has presented itself and I have every intention of taking it. Ventuno, you've proved to be a colossal waste. Fortunately, there's enough of you to do what needs to be done. I want Luna back and I need Seven back. The very future of the Muraeni house depends on it. If any of you wish to be a part of said future, find them and ensure that I get them both back alive." 

The three youngest sons left to gather information without question. Ventuno was fuming: in a matter of hours, he went from being the next Don Muraeni to chopped liver? And all because his younger brother turned against them?!

"Ventuno...why are you still here?"

The Don had completely reverted back into his signature stoicism as he sat behind his desk, rilling through files and other business as if he did not just knock his eldest around moments before, "I need to speak with Proteus, boy. Leave." 

The mentioned ray merman suddenly appeared by the bruised son's side, "I shall see Master Ventuno out, sir. It'll only take a moment." 

The Don responded with an irritated wave of the hand, not bothering to look up as his confidante guided Ventuno out the door. 

"It's such a shame," Proteus hummed the minute they were outside as Ventuno snarled at the hand he had been dealt, "To think that he would cast you aside without so much as a blink, young master. If only there was a way...to make your troubles disappear."

Proteus could see Ventuno's hot-blooded nature and thirst for power since he was just tiny thing and it was the perfect clay for him to mold. It was Proteus' job to ensure the Muraeni house stayed on a solid foundation. This also ensured that he, himself, stay on a solid foundation and out of the gutter from which he was born. With his master in charge, the sadistic ray was guaranteed an indulgent life, far from his gloomy beginnings. If Indigo were to return and cooperate, Proteus knew the boy was cunning and could only enhance their profits, as long as the right leverage was on the table, of course...but his brother, Ventuno? He was already squandering his blessings before his father could turn the keys over to him. If given the chance, Ventuno would just drag them all down to ruin with his blind entitlement and shortsightedness. Don Muraeni, as terrible and cold as he was to his children, would never actively remove the dead weight himself. Therefore it was up to Proteus to do his job and do it well: Ventuno had to go. Of course, it had to be orchestrated delicately and discretely so when Proteus planted that initial seed, that's when Ventuno's gears began to turn. 

"That would mean taking Seven out of the picture completely."

He grinned amiably to the eldest Muraeni son, feigning surprise, "Well, well...now there's an idea. If Master Seven were no longer a viable option, then your place as our next esteemed leader would be secure. Naturally, none of your younger brothers would rise to the challenge. However, you may want to work quickly, young master, your brothers may be well on their way to finding Miss Luna and Master Seven as we speak."

Ventuno laughed bitterly, "I can handle this easily. Those three idiots couldn't find fish bones if they were handed to them on a platter! Obviously, they're on Leech turf and there are plenty of suckers on neutral territory that will talk if given enough payment or motivation."

Proteus' grin could cut thorough steel, "As clever as always, my dear boy. This will be our little secret, of course."

He watched Ventuno leave the mansion, aglow with a rekindled ego and waved him off before turning to the two shark mermen that lurked around the corner.

"Make sure Master Ventuno finds his way and that our friends on the other side of town are there to welcome him. They should be getting an anonymous tip-off of a possible intruder soon enough..." 

-

The following afternoon was a warm one on the shore. True to his word, Indigo waited in the cool shaded water beneath the peer, listening to some sailors clamor around up top. They seemed awfully gossipy about Elise's reappearance with a stranger on her arm. 

"Our princesses sure have interesting tastes, don't they?" an older man chuckled, "Princess Emily has been spending a lot of time with that one young man that just showed up on our peer, and now her younger sister shows up with a rather dashing looking fellow that no one seems to know either!"

"The ladies love mystery I suppose," another sailor chimed in, "almost as much as out-classing each other! Those sisters have been butting heads since they were children. It's no wonder they suddenly each have a handsome boy on their arm!" 

Indigo rolled his eyes as he listened to the sailors banter back and forth with each other. He suddenly felt a bit sorry for Elise just from hearing all of this. That and the memories of growing up with Luna and Cowrie and witnessing all of their sisterly fits. Female relationships were definitely complicated. He looked towards the villa right as his ears caught the sound of what he hoped was an excited greeting...

Inside the main hall, Elise and Azul's arrival was met with one very shocked head maid nearly dropping the tray of items she had in her hands. Elise's temper was still set to a full boil but her expression was as serene and pleasant as the first time Azul ever met her. It honestly made Azul rethink a lot of past scenarios between the two of them. Elise gave the woman a polite greeting with a trained smile on her face that seemed to crack the minute an even more feminine voice rang from the top of the stairs.

"There she is!"

Emily Coralette, the infamous elder sister gracefully descended the stairs, oddly enough alone. Azul tried to hide the shock in his expression at just how much the two princesses did look alike at first glance. Without leaning into a full-on stare, however, Azul started to notice the differences. For one, that sugary, bell-like tone. The boy felt a sharp pinprick of anxiety the minute Emily locked her eyes on him. She was practically sizing him up with an unapologetic smugness in her smile.

"And with such a handsome friend too. My, my...do come in! We were just about to have lunch! I'd love to hear all about your travels and how you two met, of course!"

Azul didn't have to look at Elise to know that her formally polite and proper smile was swiftly chucked out the window. He felt the younger sister's grip on his arm tighten ever so slightly as Elise finally addressed her sister as the three of them walked further into the villa.

"And where is your handsome friend, Emily? I could have sworn you had a suitor come call right before I left temporarily."

The first jab...

"Oh, you mean Rielle?" Emily said innocently batting her eyes while definitely not shying away from the casual first name basis, "he had to leave to return to school early! Such a shame too, we were having so much fun. He's such a sweet thing." 

The counter...though Azul was convinced this verbal fencing match was over the family dog and not a visiting suitor. Still, he remained perfectly quiet and charming looking at Elise's side. Better to stay out of the line of fire for as long as possible...

"How lovely," Elise's tone was barely amiable. It was clear that she wasn't that interested in pulling her punches today. Especially the millisecond her sister trained her focus back on Azul.

"Elise, you haven't introduced me to this young man on your arm. Don't be so rude! Who is this dashing fellow you've brought with you?" Emily giggled girlishly. 

Azul felt himself start to sweat as Elise's grip on him grew even tighter. Still, he was in top form with his Octavinelle Prefect and Mostro Lounge manager charm on full blast, "Azul Ashengrotto, Your Highness. Elise and I are school friends. I've been collaborating with her on a very important project over the past couple of weeks. I apologize for her sudden departure but it was...quite urgent."

The octopus boy saw the predatory spark flash in Emily's pale green eyes as she completely overlooked the part about her sister's disappearance, "Oh? Only...friends?"

Azul couldn't answer even if he wanted to. Elise practically spat an entire inkwell right in the noisy girl's face, "Very dear and very close friends, Emily." 

Fortunately, they reached the dining hall seconds later, making Azul silently thank the entirety of the Great Seven for the timing. Gerald nearly fell out of his chair once Elise entered the room, "Princess Elise?! Y-You've come home!"

Looking around at the servants' faces, it was apparent that everyone felt a wave of shame in one form or another upon the realization that Elise was in fact, standing right there in front of them...of her own accord and not because any one of them sought her out. Everyone, except Emily, that is. The elder sister just giggled as if this were all some silly game that she had the winning card to.

"See? I told you all there was nothing to worry about. Now then, Elise is here so why don't we all just have a nice meal and catch up?"

Azul saw the sour expression on Elise's face as Gerald, Emily, and the other servants took their places either seated at the table or around it, almost like this was some weird dinner theatre production. Azul also saw how Emily kept batting her doe eyes up at him, trying to reel him in as she had obviously done with everyone else. His charming grin widened with a somewhat wicked edge. That was the big difference between her and Elise and what a fool Rielle had to be to not see it for himself. Elise was too clever, too capable to rely on such a base level of manipulation. Alright sure, Elise did kind of manipulate him into signing a contract with her soon after they first met...but she at the very least respected his intelligence and abilities! To think this girl saw him as such easy prey was a joke! 

"That sounds wonderful, doesn't it, Elise?" his tone was a bit too pleasant but if he knew his Princess Coralette, then he knew Elise would catch his drift no problem or questions asked. And how. Elise smiled graciously up at Azul as he pulled out a chair for her, "Oh yes. Let's indeed catch up." 

The two octopuses in human form sat next to each other and faced down the rest of the table with their deceptive smiling faces, knowing just how interesting this afternoon would certainly be. 

Emily seemed hellbent on keeping the air light in spite of the guilty faces surrounding her, “So how is your internship going, dear sister? I’m assuming Azul is helping you with it?” “He has been very helpful in other endeavors, yes, but that’s not why we’re here Emily,” her tone had an edge to it as if her tongue was sharpening a knife, the grin on Elise's face held fast, however. Azul sat back and let the lady lead. “No, I’m here, accompanied by my dear friend because I’m curious. Did any of you feel the need to check in with the internship I chose to make sure I was safe after my sudden departure? Or did you just take the word of my sister who had no place speaking on my behalf?” The room was thick with awkward silence. Even Gerald who rarely had nothing at the ready verbally was too embarrassed to answer. So in other words: yes, Elise’s call-out was spot on. The quiet air was broken by a pronounced sigh coming from Emily. “I don’t understand the fuss. You’re here now in one piece and in good company so what exactly is the issue??” Emily huffed with a roll of her eyes. “The issue is that every single one of you took someone else’s word that I was fine without seeing for yourselves!" the younger sister's charming polish swiftly melted into a much more heated declaration, "You had no idea where I was or if I was even alive and yet here you are, just enjoying sweet Emily's little vacation as if I was never here to begin with?!”  The older sister’s sweet disposition fell into a stoic gaze as she released another sigh. Suddenly her soft bell-like tone was replaced with a much more blunt and even a bit stern tone, "So dramatic...it's like my sister hasn't grown up at all. Really, Elise, you used to run away for hours, even whole days at a time as a child, but you always returned perfectly unharmed, doing nothing more than making a scene and disrupting Father's very busy schedule. So why should we sound any alarms when you suddenly come and go as you please as a young adult? If anything, it's a relief that you're finally doing something besides swimming around with those creepy eel pets of yours..."

Azul's eyes narrowed sharply for a moment before they grew in shock at the sudden crash that came from his right. Elise was on her feet, trembling with her teeth gritted and hands slammed onto the table as her dinnerware lay broken and scattered on the floor. Emily just scoffed and began to scold her.

"Now look what you've done-"

"They are NOT pets!" Elise yelled, "Their names are Luna and Cowrie and they are people, merpeople just like Rielle!"

To both Elise and Azul's confusion, a snort of laughter came from across the table. Gerald cleared his throat, suddenly looking a bit put off by the topic at hand as the maid to his left covered her guilty mouth.

"With all due respect, Your Highness," he carefully began, "You've always had your mother's generous heart and her love of the sea and all it's erm...unique inhabitants but I must say-" 

The older gentleman's words stopped short once Elise's piercing look of warning was directed straight at him. The maid that had laughed before quickly dismissed herself along with a few others from the room. Emily, however, remained seated in a regal manner as if she were in court, "Rielle was and still is a very elegant and handsome creature. Comparing him to those weird, ghastly snakes with their sharp teeth, slimy skin, and claws..." Emily looked pale as she shuddered just from saying those words aloud. 

Did this girl just call Rielle a 'creature'? Azul's confusion as to what the mermaid prince saw in this other princess grew with every word that left her mouth. Elise was just as confused if not fully appalled by her sister's attitude towards the boy who loved her so deeply.

"You call my friends my 'pets' only to turn around and call Rielle, a prince who gave up his entire life as a merman to be with you, a creature? As if he's just some lost puppy you found on the beach...Do...do you even realize what is actually happening right in front of you?!" Elise's voice began to crack, "Do you have any idea how heartbreaking this is?!"

Her hands and arms were trembling as she spoke to Emily who frankly looked as moved as someone watching a poorly acted drama. That alone made Azul's temper start to slowly brew but it was Emily's girlish chuckle that really made his stomach sour. 

"Elise, come on now. Don't you think you're overreacting? I mean, of course, everyone knows how big of a crush you've had on sweet Rielle for years. I will admit your affection for him from the very beginning was adorable but obviously, it wasn't meant to be. One would think you're just acting out a jealous fit right now," Emily then gave Azul a smug grin, "However...you did come with another handsome boy on your arm so I'd say you've already moved on rather quickly for someone acting so victimized. Or is your friend just here to bolster your wounded image, sister? Are you really so upset that you didn't get to be a part of that fairytale romance with the mermaid princess that Mother used to tell us all the time?" Emily giggled coldly.

A flood of shame and anger mixed heat rushed to Elise's face as her sister gracefully stood up to leave, cutting off any rebuttal she may have had with a curt retort, "If what you say about Rielle's intentions is true then I am flattered. He's a sweet boy but really...he's not fit for me I'm afraid. Do be honest with yourself though, dear sister. You're acting out just as you always had as a child because things didn't work out exactly how you wanted them to. Well, it's not so cute anymore. Father, our brother, and I have all done you a great service by allowing you your freedom to do as you please since Mother passed away. But unlike you, Father and Brother have very important matters to attend to. As do I. You were blessed with both beauty and talent and yet you spend all your time doing...I'm not even sure what exactly. It's time you grow up and do something productive with yourself for once. Gerald," the old attendant quickly got to his feet, "It was a lovely stay but I'm afraid I must return to my own duties. Please have the servants take my things back to my ship, thank you." 

Emily began to leave the few left in the room in complete silence and she almost made it to the door before she heard her baby sister's rough sob.

"Y-You are cruel, Emily!" 

The elder Coralette princess' formerly sweet persona returned as she smiled at her frustrated sibling, "You're just bitter from disappointment, Elise. You'll thank me someday. Oh and don't leave others to clean up your mess, alright?"

The door to the main hall closed with a sharp echo. Gerald muttered to the remaining staff to attend to Emily's departure before turning to a very visibly upset Elise who looked as if she may break apart at any second. Before he could even open his mouth as he approached the distressed princess, he was blocked by Azul and his poised smile.

"Princess Elise and I have finished our business here. I will see to it that she is properly taken care of, thank you." 

Gerald was about to argue when Elise's harsh tone shut him down flat, "Leave, Gerald." And that was that. Azul and Elise were left alone in the large dining hall. The boy dropped his facade and looked to the princess just to see her bend down to tend to the broken pieces at her feet. He made a sound of worry as he moved to stop her but Elise gave him a shaky smile, "It's alright, Azul."

Within the next moment, Azul watched as the princess gently placed her hands over the broken pieces and started to recite an incantation, "Return to what you once were. Undo the harm done and try again. Second Chance."

Right before his eyes, the pieces of glass and plate came back together and the cracks resealed themselves as if they were never broken, to begin with. Elise picked up the now whole glass and plate and showed him with a small grin on her face, "See? Good as new." 

"This is your unique magic, isn't it Elise?" Azul chuckled, "You and the Cerith sisters, you three just keep amazing me time and time again. Not something many can say they have accomplished."

Elise seemed to revert back to her usual self for a moment as she placed the dinnerware back on the table, "Oh? You flatter me, Mr. Ashengrotto...you wouldn't be thinking up any possible future business ventures with this new information, would you?" She gave the boy a playfully sly grin. 

Azul continued the banter with a faux wounded expression, "My, my, you make me sound positively devious, princess." Her light laughter that proceeded his statement made his heart hiccup momentarily. Azul just dismissed the sensation by clearing his throat.

"Well, I can honestly say that I've had my fill of this place. I imagine you feel the same." 

Elise rolled her eyes in a similar fashion as Emily did before, "That's an understatement. One more thing and then we can leave."

-

Any curious maids that had been hanging around Elise's room scattered like sardines the minute the princess showed her annoyed face. Azul opted to wait outside the room but Elise pulled him inside with her. No doubt this would stir up more gossip among the staff but at this point, Elise couldn't be bothered to care. 

"They'll talk either way but in here, you at least won't be hounded by the more bold ones, Azul," the princess said bluntly as she began looking around her room for her phone and magic pen, keeping her face turned away from him. 

Azul saw her point and acknowledged it as he silently waited for her, not wanting to hover. Especially since the tension seemed to return to her voice. Elise found her phone and while she did have it both mechanically and magically customized to be waterproof to the point to deal with great levels of underwater pressure, she wasn't exactly sure her octopus form came with pockets...better to bring a bag, she thought as she grabbed the closest and simplest pouch she could find. She then found her magic pen on her vanity right where she left it, "There you are..."

The boy watched curiously as Elise slipped the magic stone piece off of the pen only to reveal that it was actually a ring. She slipped it onto her right hand's middle finger as she turned back to Azul, "There we go. All set." 

"So Sacred Crown makes your magic stones interchangeable as rings? Very clever," he hummed as he gazed down at the aquamarine stone on her hand. It seemed to shrink to a smaller size to fit with on Elise's long, dainty fingers. 

"Everyone's has a variety. We attach them to our pens like you boys do at Night Raven when we're in class but otherwise, we wear them like jewelry. Mine is a ring. Luna and Cowrie are a bit more secretive with theirs: Luna wears hers as a bracelet in her human form which apparently hides in her mermaid form and Cowrie hides hers on the back of the shell she wears around her neck. It can be a ring, a brooch, a necklace, it depends on the girl I suppose...I never really thought about it before, to be honest," Elise chuckled a bit half-heartedly. The topic was light enough but it was clear that the events of the afternoon still weighed on her.  She quickly brushed past him, obviously not wanting to linger any longer, "We should head back." - The sun was setting by the time Azul and Elise returned to the beach. The breeze brushed through her deep blue-black locks in time with the sigh that left her lips.

“I’m so sorry you had to see…all of that, Azul.” She was turned away from him but her tone grew more somber with each word, “But…maybe Emily was right about me. If I hadn’t have rushed into all of this so recklessly then-“

It stirred something in him that couldn’t settle. His sharp words cut her off, “Enough. All I heard from your sister today was careless accusations.” The princess turned to find Azul had walked straight up to her and stared her down with a frustrated expression, “I am an outsider, I know, but had I been your brother, I would have been relieved and even a bit sick with how much worry your disappearance caused. Anything but whatever it was your actual sister thought was a suitable reaction!” Elise’s turquoise eyes widened as he continued, “You have nothing to apologize for, Elise. Not to me. As for Rielle, he is a fool. I took his voice, not his brain. And yet he still pushed aside such a-“ Beautiful. Incredible. Bold. Several very embarrassing adjectives skidded to halt just before lingering on the edge of Azul’s tongue. The feeling from earlier returned tenfold with a blunt clarity that the octopus boy couldn’t ignore any longer…

From the other side of the conversation, Elise watched as Azul’s determined expression suddenly morphed into something completely different as if the boy slammed into an invisible wall. It would be amusing if she wasn’t hanging on every word he had been saying up until that point. 

“Ah…what I mean is…” 

Azul was reeling on the inside: not sure if his body wanted to dive back into the sea or bury itself right there in the sand but either way, it knew. Painfully so. It knew and he himself knew now that Azul had a massive crush on this beautiful, brilliant, and very confused looking girl standing in front of him right now…and it made him want to immediately crawl into the abyss.  It was madness! Not the attraction part, oh no never, any man would be a complete imbecile to not be attracted to such a woman as Elise! It burned him up to no end how Rielle could just side-step her so easily for someone so impossibly inferior like her pompous sister! And yet, it happened and Elise was heartbroken… which made Azul feel a distinct bitterness grow in his guts. That’s where the madness came in. It was absolutely ludicrous that after pining after a handsome prince like Rielle, as foolish as he may be, that Elise would ever give him the time of day…ha…what a thought.

“…Azul?”

Her concerned tone dragged him back to reality. He suddenly felt guilty seeing how her brow was furrowed with worry. And her striking eyes-AAHH STOP IT!

“Yes, sorry, I uh got a bit derailed there, Elise. My point is…” don’t come on too strong! “You shouldn’t have to apologize or feel guilty for being angry with your family. Any sane person in your position would have felt and reacted the same…and frankly, you seem like a bit of a misfit. I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Azul found his feet again with the last statement, his usual smile back on. It nearly flipped off his face completely when Elise smiled back at him. The sunset had the audacity to glow right behind her, making her even more lovely.

“You’re really sweet when you want to be, Azul Ashengrotto.” 

His heart nearly leaped out of his throat. Elise felt warm all over and only moments later realized just how close she was to him. Her reaction was more akin to a magnet: she felt drawn to him, wanting to close the distance and step even closer to him. The only thing that kept her from doing so was her mind screaming at her to get a grip. 

And Rielle? The same mind chimed in inconveniently. Elise felt another sharp pang in her heart. Did she still have feelings for the prince or did she just feel bad about the situation especially now that she knew how little her sister returned the poor boy's affections? The straight truth was that she wasn’t sure she did have feelings for him anymore. The more clouded, fuzzy truth was that the boy standing across from her perhaps made her feel something as well? Something new, stronger even? And that scared her a bit. 

Azul wasn’t some doe-eyed prince looking for romance. He was cunning, ambitious, someone who cut his own path and made things happen. He was an incredible mage and person...he knew what he wanted. Not to mention incredibly handsome and full of charm even in his most awkward moments-WHAT?

The princess suddenly whirled away from Azul, making him jump a bit, “Azul!”

“Y-Yes?!”

“Thank you! …for staying by my side today. And ever since the beginning of all of this. I’d be lost without you…”

Elise’s face was burning so hot it was a miracle her voice wasn’t shakier. Azul gave some sort of affirmation but the princess couldn’t really hear it over the pounding heartbeat in her ears. It’s undeniable, isn’t it? She thought to herself…regardless of whatever lingering feelings she may harbor for Rielle, feelings for Azul barged right in and made themselves at home. She wasn’t sure if she felt elated, mortified, or both!

The silence between the two of them was only filled with the sound of waves lapping at the shore…that is until they heard a familiar voice coming from the nearby peer.

“Heeey…you two having a fight or what??”

Both Elise and Azul’s heads whipped to the side to see that Indigo had been joined under the peer by not only his sisters but their mates as well. The tweels looked especially amused by the couple’s awkward air whilst the Cerith siblings seemed to be whispering something amongst themselves. If the pair’s faces weren’t heated already then they most definitely were now.

Floyd’s sharp-tooth smile widened as he continued to tease, “Maybe you should kiss and make up~ Heheheh-“

The obnoxious twin soon had a face full of saltwater as Azul blasted the water with wind magic at record speed, “I thought I told you to wait at Octavinelle for us!” “You seemed to be taking some time and we thought it best to check in with you two,” Jade had a wicked grin that didn’t even try to hide how entertaining Azul’s flustered behavior was, “now we can see you two are more than just fine…” Elise narrowed her eyes at her two companions as they giggled mischievously in the shadows. The sly looks the two sisters were giving her made the princess feel completely exposed: oh…they knew something was going on in their friend's brain and they were ready to torment her to hell and back to get to the bottom of it. Indigo remained quietly leaning against one of the large poles, looking stoic as ever.  “Yes, yes Elise and I have accomplished what she set out to do and now we can all return to where we need to be…” Azul’s tone was professional but as soon as he finished, Elise felt a bit disappointed.  She knew it wasn’t forever, of course, but did they really have to part ways now? She looked to the sun as it slowly sank beneath the horizon as she formed an idea. “Actually…if you all don’t mind…there is a place I’d like you all to visit with me before we part ways for a while,” she asked gently as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Well, Azul suddenly found it near impossible to say no to her now. The eels seemed to be very keen on the idea of sticking together a bit longer as well, if for no other reason beyond getting some more entertaining details nailed down.

Luna and Cowrie seemed to read Elise's mind as their faces lit up. Oh, that place. 

"Ah the bay," Luna hummed, "It has been a long time. It'll be an excellent send-off point. After we all cool down a bit, of course." 

Cowrie snickered at the smug grin her big sister had on her face as Elise seemed to huff at her pair of eels. The princess quickly walked back into the water and transformed back into her octopus form. It strangely felt far more comfortable to her now. 

"Luna. Cowrie. You know the way," she held out her arms for the sisters to take, giving them both an impatient look.

"Yes, princess," they playfully chimed in unison before flanking her and signaling the boys to follow them.

- The bay was further down the shore but took no time at all to get to for the group to swim to. The sunset had dyed everything in a coral-pink glow by the time they resurfaced onto a very dreamy-looking spot of land. The water was clear and mostly still and the beach led to an area full of large, sleepy willow trees and fireflies that were beginning to stir.  “This is a private bay. My parents used to come here all the time,” Elise phased back into her human form as she and the sisters walked onto the shore, “I figured we could have a few moments of peace before we say goodbye since today was so...stressful."

The boys followed suit and joined the girls on the land. All except Indigo. The eldest Cerith remained in the water as the teenagers explored the area, patiently hanging back and keeping his eyes to the open sea. Just in case.

Cowrie immediately started climbing into the willow tree closest to the water just so she could jump out of it and back into the water like a little kid on a tire swing. She called for Floyd to join her. He didn't need to be told twice. Luna just giggled at her baby sister and mate's antics before saddling up to Elise's side. 

"You're looking a bit overheated, Elise," she whispered in a sing-song tone while both Azul and Jade were distracted, "Do you need a...time out perhaps?"

That was code Elise and the Cerith sisters had been using for years: whenever Elise was having a 'moment' - as Luna liked to call it - she and her eel companions would swiftly and gracefully as possible retreat to a designated panic area, away from prying eyes and ears. Elise was both irritated and grateful to her best friend and vice prefect for reading her so easily. She didn't even have to respond before Luna linked her arm with Elise's and called Cowrie back to her.

"Excuse us, boys, we girls need to have a little private talk for a moment," Luna gave Azul and the twins a soft smile before smoothly guiding the princess further inland, Cowrie practically skipping behind. Jade was quick to catch the look Luna gave him as she floated by. He passed along the look to Floyd like a psychic connection and the twins both turned to Azul.

"We should regroup as well, don't you think Floyd?" Jade grinned, showing his teeth.

Floyd's wild giggle just made Azul feel more uneasy and on the defensive. The octopus boy found the closest bench and sat with his arms crossed. The tweels settled on either side of him and waited with deceptively kind smiles on their faces. 

"Alright, you two are up to something. What is it?"

Azul had known these devilish twins long enough to know when they had mischief on their minds. Most of the time it still worked in his favor but right now, he wasn't so sure. Jade took the lead in classic Jade fashion: delicately baited.

"It's not often that we're left out of the loop, Azul. We're just curious as to how everything is going?"

An innocent enough statement. At least it would be had it come from anyone but Jade Leech. Azul held his cards close to his chest and gave the brothers just the facts: it was simple - Rielle was no longer on land, at least outside of his school's campus, and from what Emily Coralette had very bluntly said earlier, he had a snowball in the Land of Hot Sands' chance at winning her heart. The more vindictive part of Azul grinned at that prospect, the utter foolishness of it all. The twins weren't much better. Floyd cackled at this information, "Aw man, what a shmuck! Not only did he pick the wrong girl, she doesn't even want him back?!"

Jade snorted and sputtered a bit, failing to hide his laugh behind any sort of polite decorum, "Oya Floyd, don't be so cruel...it's unfair to assume that he actually put any thought into this whole endeavor." 

This only made his brother laugh even harder. Although, the twins' mirth quickly died down once they noticed the very downcast look on their friend's face. Azul looked as serious as a heart attack, staring off into nothing. 

"Oi Azul...this is usually the part where you get all puffed up and confident about winning and stuff," Floyd muttered.

When he didn't respond, Jade's grin grew as he offered a theory, "Perhaps Azul is troubled because while these unfortunate events do benefit him...that may not be the case for poor Miss Elise."

The twins watched Azul's brow furrow deeper in frustration as his guarded resolve fell apart in mere moments. They shared a suspicious look before watching their friend again, waiting for a response. Like two cats waiting at a fishing dock. Azul let out an agitated huff, "Honestly, what a mess this has become and for what? Some foolish prince with big pretty, dreamy eyes and a nice singing voice chasing after an even more vapid little waif that's not even a fraction of the woman that DOES love him...that idiot couldn't even see what was right in front of him!"

"Ohh? How so?" Jade asked as casually as possible. Had Azul looked up he would have seen just how the brothers were about to lose it, not even bothering to hide their mischievous grins. Azul was too distracted by his own irritated feelings to derail his own rant.

"How so? Honestly, Jade, you and Floyd have had Elise in your own house for weeks and you're still unaware?! She has adapted to the same  very dangerous environment we all were born into in record time, she defended your mate from imminent danger-"

"Octi-chan also put you in your place like right away," Floyd added rather bluntly.

"YES, Floyd! Aside from my mother and grandmother, and your own mother once or twice, no one else has ever done so let alone with such directness and passion!" the brothers weren't sure if Azul was upset or impressed but decided to see where he was going with this, "Elise is incredible. She's unlike any other person, I've ever met..."

Azul stopped himself in a bout of bashful self-awareness. His face turned the shade of Riddle Roseheart's hair once he finally looked up and saw the incredulously wide smiles on the twins' faces. Checkmate.

"Ehhhhh~ This is so unlike you, Azuuuul...so smitten~" Floyd giggled as if they had been watching a wriggling worm on a hook. 

Azul back peddled so quickly the twins were surprised he didn't flip over the very bench he sat on, "Smitten?! Clearly, you have no idea what admiration and respect sound like! I'm just speaking as a man admiring a woman of prestige and gumption!!"

Indigo snorted loudly from where he was offshore when he heard that, making his younger brothers-in-law burst into laughter. Azul steamed faster than a pressure cooker, spitting out defenses onto their deaf ears. On the other side of the bay, Elise wasn't fairing much better.

She, Luna, and Cowrie found a nice private spot hidden away underneath one of the larger willows that dipped into the water. Elise sat up to her shoulders in the cool water, quietly watching her tentacles play with the small fish and water lilies that drifted by.  She had been giving her curious friends short, vague answers to their endless questions. Luna had a world of patience that her sister did not. Cowrie finally grew tired of swimming in circles around Luna and Elise as the three of them talked and finally blurted out what they really wanted to know.

"So what's the deal with Rielle now??"

Luna bopped her baby sister on the head with the end of her tail after giving her a scrutinizing look. Still, she waited for Elise to answer. The princess seemed set on hiding her face in her own long silky hair. Very uncharacteristically skittish of her...

"It's like I said...Emily doesn't love him. I'm not sure that he's aware of it though."

Luna slowly leaned in to coax her friend, "And how do you feel about all of this?"

Elise hesitated. Luna and Cowrie looked at each other but neither backed off. Their silent persistence didn't go unnoticed. The princess felt like she might be crushed under the weight of her friends' gazes. She wasn't stupid, she knew exactly what they wanted to hear...and it wasn't a lie either.

"I...I don't think I love Rielle anymore. I'm not sure I really did in the first place," her voice sounded so hollow but this confession came far more easily than she expected. 

"Finally!" Cowrie groaned, "You outclass him by a long shot, Ellie, you have for years."

"Ignoring my sister's lack of tact, she is right. Elise, as..." Luna really seemed to struggle with finding the right word for a moment, "...charming...as Rielle's pretty face and naivety may be, I assure you that you deserve and need a much more capable mate. Someone of substance."

Cowrie nodded in hard agreement with her sister's words, "Someone more your speed. And you know, with a brain that actually works. I mean even your sister doesn't want him...that's pretty sad." 

Classic Cowrie: brutally honest. Elise snorted dryly and rolled her eyes as she pushed her hair away from her face, "No she doesn't, but that didn't stop her from batting her eyes towards Azul..."

The sisters' ear fins perked up at this new development. Rather than interrupting with more questions, they scooted in to soak up every detail as Elise got more and more heated with every word. 

"Honestly," she huffed, "I knew Emily wasn't subtle about her more flirtatious side but seriously? She already had one guy practically licking her shoes but the minute he leaves and another handsome face shows up, she starts eyeing him up like he's the next course meal!" 

"Hmph. So vulgar..." Luna sneered while sharing a grin with her younger sister. Cowrie quietly snickered as her tail swished back and forth in the water.

"I know! He was right there with ME! Literally on MY arm!" Elise practically screeched.

"Humans can be so sloppy with their desires. If this had happened in our neighborhood, there would've been blood," Cowrie snorted, "Courtship and bonds with your mate are taken very seriously among mermaids, and disrespect is never tolerated."

Luna hummed in agreement, "Well said, Cowrie. If this girl had made such advances towards my darling right in front of me, well...she wouldn't have eyes left to gawk with." 

Elise's eyes nearly glowed red as she blurted out her true feelings with a snap, "Had I not been so focused on my purpose for being there in the first place, she'd be lucky if I took only her eyes!"

The eel sisters cooed in both surprise and admiration at this more savage side to their friend. "My, my...you truly are an octopus mermaid, Elise," Luna chuckled making the princess blink back to reality.

"Wha...what do you mean?" 

Cowrie giggled wickedly as she circled around the other two playfully, "Eel mermaids are very territorial and protective of their mates and their broods, but female octopus? Ooo, they're especially aggressive! Anyone with half a brain cell knows better than getting between an octo-lady and her maaaan~ Azuzu was lucky to not get caught up in the crossfire!"

The sisters giggled as the words "her man" made Elise's face flush lavender with a heated glow, "W-Well, it was just very rude is all. Anyone in my position would have felt the same! And making Azul out to be some piece of meat to toy with is unacceptable!" 

"Azul...or Rielle?"

Luna and Cowrie wore matching cat-like grins as they watched the steam rise out of Elise's ears. 

"Either one! Emily's behavior was and still is deplorable!" she huffed crossing both her arms and her two front tentacles, "Azul deserves better than that...a-and Rielle too, of course."

"Of course," Luna smiled as she picked up a nearby floating water lily and began to pluck its petals in a love-me-love-me-not fashion, "But perhaps, Azul-kun wasn't so much opposed to it as he just wished it came from another source."

Before Elise could say anything, her best friend's golden eyes flicked back up to her with an inquiring raise of her eyebrows. Elise felt a barrage of butterflies fill her stomach at the implication.

"I don't...I don't know what you mean by that Luna. Azul was there to support me and I am still very glad he was there, by my side...that's all." 

Very convincing, even Elise's brain didn't believe her. Judging from the looks on the eel sisters' faces, neither did they. However, Elise was too stubborn to give in so easily.

"Besides, I have a much bigger problem to worry about and I'm running out of time..." her face fell as she, begrudgingly, reminded herself of what needed to be done. Luna's expression turned more serious.

"And what will you do, Elise?"

"I...I don't know...somehow I thought all of this would be so much more clear by now but..."

After a beat of silence, Elise felt both sisters gently wrap themselves around her in a double hug. They said nothing. They didn't have to. Elise just exhaled and let her two companions hold her up for a few minutes while she began to process everything at hand. 

-

When the girls returned to the main shore, they found a rather unexpected scene...

The twins and Azul seemed to be horsing around in the water and arguing about something. Well, Azul was arguing some point while tangling a cackling Floyd up in one of his tentacles as if the eel boy were a giant maraca while Jade kept trying to escape the tentacle that had him ensnared. All the while, Indigo sat in the water off to the side just watching with a sigh. The girls said nothing but gave the eldest boy questioning looks. 

"Don't ask..." was his only response.

Elise turned back towards the other three boys and cleared her throat as loudly as possible, "Um boys??"

Azul suddenly whipped around as his tentacles plunged the twins back into the water, causing their tails to wriggle back and forth above the surface, "Ah! Ladies, welcome back!"

His eye twitched but the girls pretended not to notice it. Or how flushed Azul's face was. Elise just put on a smile and ignored her own nerves, "Sorry about running off so suddenly, Azul, um...we...we just wanted to say our goodbyes before we go, of course." 

Floyd's head popped out of the water with a pout, "Awww already?" 

Jade followed with a calm expression in an attempt to hide his disappointment better than his brother, "It is getting rather late, I suppose." 

Azul let the brothers go and they quickly swam over to their mates. Elise gave the eels a moment and approached the other octopus with a soft smile, "I can't thank you enough for your help, Azul."

Some of Elise's butterflies seemed to transfer over to him in that exact moment, "Oh I uh...I didn't do that much...I was just kind of...there."

Elise laughed quietly at his suddenly more shy expression, "What's with the false modesty? You being 'there' is exactly what I needed. I like having you close by, Azul-" 

The princess let out a high squeak when two of her and Azul's tentacles suddenly took it upon themselves to wrap around each other as they did before but more assertively this time. Azul's whole torso tensed with embarrassment before he started sputtering.

"I-I'm so sorry, I don't know why this keeps happening!"

He started to pull his own limbs off of hers but stopped when Elise suddenly burst out laughing. He blinked at the princess owlishly as if he were caught in some sort of prank. Elise waved her hands as she tried to make herself stop laughing but to no avail.

"I'm, I'm sorry, I-" she tried taking a breath but somehow that just made it worse, "I swear I'm not trying to make fun of you! It-it's just maybe-" 

The five eels watched the scene between the two play out with satisfied grins on their faces. It was too adorable for even the most mischievous of them to interrupt. Elise finally managed to quell her laughter to finish explaining.

"Whew...sorry...ahem...maybe our legs are just trying to break the ice or something?" She smiled at the stunned boy, "I mean...we've come this far together right and we're still a bit too formal with each other sometimes? Maybe they can tell." 

It was a fair point. Azul pouted down at his own tentacles as if they were mocking him but deep down, he was not-so-secretly grateful for them taking initiative he was too scared to take himself, "Perhaps...so what do we..."

Azul felt an immediate lump form in his throat when Elise suddenly closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, causing the emboldened legs to wrap even tighter around each other. 

"See? This isn't so bad...right?" her voice was even but Elise was so glad he couldn't see her very shy face right now. 

Azul slowly relaxed and wrapped his arms around her waist, relishing in the feeling of her odd warmth being so close to him, "No. Not at all." 

The only complaint either one of them had was just how hard saying even a temporary goodbye was going to be now. Neither one wanted to even imagine how hard the final goodbye at the end of all of this when Elise was returned to normal was going to be...

Indigo quietly said bid his sisters and their mates fair well for the time being before silently swimming back to the Leech household. Luna and Cowrie didn't want to break Elise away from Azul just yet, especially when he looked so comfortable with his eyes closed in a peaceful expression with his head leaning against hers. The twins, as maliciously teasing as they may be, also didn't want to break things up just yet. This was probably the most at ease they had seen their friend in so long.

"Maybe we should give them a few more minutes," Luna whispered as Floyd rested his head on her shoulder with a content purr. Jade and Cowrie gave no argument as the latter wrapped his petite mate in his own arms. 

In their own little bubble, Azul felt weirdly electric: half calm, half absolutely buzzing. He was torn between letting the moment linger and ending the hug too soon. The tug o war going on in his brain wasn't helping his nerves whatsoever. He opened his stormy blue eyes to watch the final moments of the sunset before the glowing orb finally disappeared beneath the horizon. Time was slipping away too quickly. 

"Elise..." he gently pushed away from her as soon as he regained his composure, "I-er-we need to make sure you get back to Sacred Crown safely." 

Elise ignored, as much as she could anyway, the heavy pit in her stomach and the sudden departure of warmth as they separated, "Yes...we've dallied enough I think. We'll see each other again soon enough though, right?" 

She put on a confident smile as she returned to the shore, "It might sound strange but it works better when we start on solid ground," the princess chuckled. Luna and Cowrie gave their boys a kiss before following after Elise. Once the three girls were back in their human forms, each one removed the coins from their pockets and tossed them into the bay. Minutes later a whirlpool portal appeared before them. The girls gave each of the boys one last look before leaping in one right after the other. Once the whirlpool settled and they were gone, the bay felt all too quiet and empty.

Floyd's mood immediately dampened if not turn completely non-existent. Jade looked a bit lost. And Azul...well...Azul did what Azul did best: go on with the show.

"Well, we watched over the girls until their return just as we said we would. They'll be back in no time...Jade, Floyd, let's go back to Octivinelle. We have a lot to do." 

Tagging: @nuitthegoddess @honey-milk-depresso @ladyrosemoon @iscarlettappel @foxwitchaine @victoria1676 @evieyouknow @feldya @wysteriadelights @1ndigowitch @aiimee9

[vakhiyamusings]

I fell in love with an idiot (and now I have to go save his ass!) - RRR fanfic RamxBheem

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“I came here to rescue my little sister. She was forcibly taken from our tribe.”

“I’m sorry for deceiving you. I wanted to come clean on so many occasions but I didn’t want to drag you in my mess.”

“If I don’t see you again, I’ll die with pride knowing I had a wonderful person in my life. Goodbye, my friend.”

Friend? Friend!?

Friend, my ass!

He raged at his inability to speak! The stupid snake bite! It fucking paralyzed his entire side and he couldn’t even move his jaw properly. He couldn’t get the fucking idiot to stop his suicide mission!

He was going to get himself killed!

And Ram, himself, was going to be the one to do it.

The shock and stab of betrayal shot right through his heart.

But who better than him could understand the pain and despair such deception could cost a soul.

Ram admired Bheem for his courage and gumption. For flawlessly being in character and weaseling his way into the governor’s house. Bheem’s tongue tied nature around Jenny was rather cute to witness. It probably wasn’t all faked. 

Perish that thought.

Bheem didn’t have a cunning bone is his body. Ram doubted he could lie to save his life.

Fucking idiot!

Ram let out a harsh labored breath as he lifted himself up off the bed. 

He needed to ensure that no one got to the idiot before he did.

Bheem was, after all, his idiot to contend with.

Ram couldn’t help but admire him more and more every single day.

His feelings were probably one sided but the heart wants what it wants. 

Seetha was his best friend from childhood. She probably would’ve been his wife in another life, but Ram was a different man these days. Being a double agent was hard on his soul, and he knew deep down, that Seetha deserved better. She was his only tie to his old life and his anchor to reality. He needed her to keep himself sane. 

Whatever sane meant these days was another question altogether.

Apparently, it meant pulling out his police uniform from his iron chest and refilling his rifle with bullets.

Time to hunt down the massive brawny hunk of an idiot.

A couple of punches to his trusty punching bag was necessary before he left. He didn’t want to accidentally strangle the fool for making him run around in circles all these weeks.

He ran out the door and suddenly paused.

A dramatic entrance was necessary in every situation.

                                          ***

His man had style, that was for sure!

A tiger was mauling a British guy’s face while the man let out a blood curdling scream. There were lions, antelopes and cheetahs wrecking havoc. 

The scene before him fueled a vicious bloodthirstiness within him.

Like his namesake, he steered a chariot with a fire lit behind him like a proper descendant of the Sun God.

He jumped off his chariot letting it add more chaos to the mayhem. 

Mayhem to the chaos?

Who the fuck cared?

It was utter bedlam and it got his blood thrumming with excitement!

“Why are you wearing that?”

The words made him pause.

“Why are you dressed like that? You are one of us!”

His blood ran cold.

The confusion and betrayal in that voice…

He made sure early on to never have friends. Just allies. The first time he trusted someone in so long and look where it led him?

Ram couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You are under arrest for the crimes you have committed to the British sovereignty,” was all he said  pulling out his handcuffs.

“What are you saying?”

Bheem jumped back out of his reach.

The action hurt him more than he imagined.

“You’re one of us! Look at me!” Bheem screamed at him, pain filling his voice.

“You are under arrest for your crimes. Come quietly with me and confess,” he repeated.

“Look! At! Me!”

Ram shuddered at the command in the tone. If it were in any other circumstance, his response would’ve been completely different.

He anticipated the strike and blocked the hit.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to fight. He was mechanical in his attempt to restrain this beast of a man.

When a particular key Bheem had in his hold fell into the sewer, his friend was no longer the person he used to know.

Ram had to fight back lest he lose a limb or his life.

He had to think quickly. 

Bheem was unrestrained and violent. Volatile was what came to mind.

He was poetry in motion, beautiful and deadly with a fire in his eyes that sparked his very soul. 

He craved his attention like a dying man craving air.

He was fluid in his movements but also reckless like a tidal wave of fury.

His inner rage swirled into a massive storm.

Electricity sparked, lightning crackled as they fought.

There was no one else but the two of them in this fight.

But it couldn’t last forever.

Ram had to save Bheem before the guy got himself killed.

He was making this very difficult!

Fucking tribal idiot and his building climbing skills!

“Just surrender now, Bheem!” he roared. Not like it had any effect.

“How could you turn your back on us? How dare you stab the backs of your countrymen? I wish I had never met you,” Bheem cried out before trying to lob him with a huge rock.

Ram faltered at the words and it nearly cost him his life.

His double life was affecting him at the most inopportune moment. Feelings were never supposed to be a part of this!

Load. Aim. Shoot.

That was the mantra he led his life by.

The last words uttered to him by his father.

Right before he blew up the man who sired him…

Ram grabbed him by the neck and pushed him to the ground. Bheem struggled like a large trout out of water. 

Fucking big lug!

A muscular, ridiculously hot one at that!

“Just stop! Stop and listen to me!” Ram gritted his teeth.

The writhing was not good for his body. It really, really wasn’t.

“I’m on your side!” he hissed through his teeth.

Bheem continued to struggle not having heard him.

Ram had only one idea to get his attention and get him to stop his damn writhing!

He crashed his mouth harshly to Bheem’s mouth.  Bheem bit his tongue in confusion. The taste of blood only fueled his lust. Bheem stilled before kissing back wildly and recklessly as the man he was. Ram clutched his waist, pulling him closer. He was surprised to feel a bulge pressing against his own.

Ram pulled back, breathing harshly. Bheem appeared dazed and also out of breath.

“What?” he was so out of it. Ram preened within at making him so breathless with a single kiss.

“I’m on your side, you dumb bumbling fool!” Ram exclaimed exasperated.

“Why did you fight me?” 

His lover was dumb. 

“I am not your friend in public. I have to maintain appearances. They expect me to arrest you and hand you over to them. Your Nawab is giving them trouble,” he explained. 

The sounds of a raging fight was loud outside. They didn’t have much time.

“I have to get Malli,” Bheem said.

Ram let out an explosive sigh.

“Stop making my life so hard! I can’t keep you alive if you fight me at every turn!” he said.

Bheem’s eyes hardened.

“How can I trust you? Huh? Maybe you’ve been playing me the whole time! Why should I listen to anything you say?” he demanded. The fire was back in his eyes and they focused entirely on him. 

Perfect.

“Because I love you, you idiot! For some unfathomable reason, I fucking love you and guess what? I don’t want to turn you over to the governor! But then you do something stupid and crash into this party like a bull through a china shop! If you want Malli to survive, you need to surrender! They’ve seen you now! I can’t let you go!” Ram whispering harshly against his lips.

He couldn’t help himself from stealing another kiss and grinding himself against his muscular lover.

Bheem appeared speechless but his body knew what to do.

Ram was thrilled and frustrated as he was suddenly flipped so he was on his back. Bheem hovered over him, kissing down his neck. He bit harshly on the tendons of his neck making Ram moan out loud. Thankfully the noise was muffled by the roar of a lion. Bheem pressed the heel of his palm against his cock making Ram buckle beneath him.

They made quick work of releasing their cocks and Bheem stroke them both surely but firmly. Ram’s fingers dug into

Bheem’s back nearly drawing blood. It only spurred Bheem on further. Soon, they were coming onto their hands and over each other. Ram found it particularly amusing to find a drop of cum over one of his medals. If only the governor knew…

“I love you too, but I have to do this. I’m sorry,” he barely heard the words through his sex addled mind before Bheem got up and left.

Ram’s mind suddenly turned on and he cursed.

Fuck Bheem and his idiocy!

Fuck him and his easily accessible veshti wearing tendencies!

Ram struggled with his zip to catch up with the dumb ass.

No, the ass in question was spectacular.

The man was simply dumb.

The idiot clambered onto the railing and was trying to swoop down like a hawk to save his sister.

He was going to die if it happened and he would be killing his sister as well.

Ram threw a stone slab to stop him from jumping off.

Bheem retaliated by throwing a piece of the balustrade at his head.

Ungrateful prick!

As a last resort, he lassoed him with the beaded mala that Bheem had given him earlier this evening. The rope was pretty damn strong and it stopped Bheem from catapulting to the ground.

Ram eyed him in cold fury.

Why didn’t he just listen to him?

“Surrender now, Bheem! Or else, Malli will pay for your actions,” he spoke harshly.

The words seemed to suddenly pierce through his thick skull.

His fiery eyes were subdued and were filled with fear.

Ram closed his eyes and slowly pulled him up to safety.

Why did he fall in love with an idiot?

[astramthetaprime]

Here and Now, the Continuing Journey

Greetings, fellow aliens.  

OK, so the basics:  Late-diagnosed Autistic, possibly also (undiagnosed) ADHD.  Diagnosed Autistic at age 50.  Which, yes, I am older now.  The more I learn the more likely ADHD-Inattentive seems.  This Tumblr is primarily for connecting with others in my neurodivergent neck of the woods, and also because I’ve followed some folks here for years without portfolio as it were.  One of them was recently diagnosed ADHD as well, and through the tags I’ve found others.  The humble tag cloud, let me salute you.  

I like to think I’m done with the “anger and betrayal” stage of post-diagnosis.  I’ve gotten past it enough to actually start identifying my particular problems and addressing them in practical terms.  However there are still moments of “you never noticed ANYTHING WRONG?!”  In my much younger days I had problems with anger stemming from feelings of betrayal so I keep a close weather eye on that.  My 20s were... not a good time.  But I’m long past that now, and it’s in great part to another aspect of my life that I can say that, to wit -- I am Buddhist.  More on that in days to come.  

Previously I worked for the United States Postal Service, but that’s long done with.  I now work from home doing data entry.  I left the PO due to Circumstances I Shall Possibly Address Later.  At this point, suffice to say it was burnout.  I left what could be termed an overpaid, height of envy career to now work at an entry-level  job that has dubious benefits and for which I am barely compensated enough to survive.  I have joined the ranks of those who are one minor disaster from homelessness.  I have middle-aged bills and health problems but Millenial pay and non-existent benefits.  So yeah.  But for all that, I’m probably better off.  There are things I could complain about but I’m home.  

My “special interests” -- I quite like what I’ve seen them called, “spins” -- Space, the future of humankind in space, Artificial Intelligence.  Basically everything covered by the most excellent Isaac Arthur.  I have been writing science-fiction since the Typewriter Age, with varying degrees of success.  Lately I have been able to somewhat overcome a long-time writer’s block and completed some short things.  I used to write book-length stuff but I just don’t seem to have the mental gumption to handle that now.  I’m concentrating on quality over quantity now.  I have left the age of Paid By The Word, as it were.  Also, I have spent most of my life on spiritual quest and even though I have come to rest finally at the feet of the Buddha, I just can’t seem to put it down.  Call it a lifelong involvement in Comparative Religions, inspired by my lifelong guru Joseph Campbell.  One imagines Dr. Campbell somewhere outside of time seeing this and going “Yes.  That.  Do that.” and the Buddha beside him, nodding sagely and returning to his meditation.  I’ll stop here before I start pontificating.  

In any case, feet on the road again.  I cannot continue alone as I have.  What do you do after the protagonist discovers their particular “secret” and returns dragging it behind him?  How do you live like this?  How do you make your life better in real substantial ways?  And how do you do it when you don’t have the means to blithely skip off to a therapist?  Ignoring for the nonce that late-diagnosed adult Autism is still so new a thing that there literally are no therapists who specialize in it.  I was misdiagnosed as “depression” for literally 40 years.  Which I was, but the root cause of Autism was never seen.  By trained therapists.  For 40 years.  

Yeah, okay, I’m falling into the anger thing so I’ll leave it at that for today.  

[leam1983]

Cyberpunk 2077 Thoughts

Having perused Dark Horse Books’ The World of Cyberpunk 2077 over the past few days, I’ve gotten a better feel for the various basic hooks that structure V’s inception as a protagonist. The short of it is the Polish wizards are on the right path to nailing Pondsmith’s treatment the same way they nailed Sapkowski’s works.

Consider the following as half a brain dump, half a series of prospective spoilers, and also half projection, so either skip this, find some other entry to read, or come back to this come late November.

I know I mentioned three halves, but it’s late and I don’t give a shit.

I’m serious - DO NOT PRESS ON IF YOU’RE THE TYPE TO BLOW A GASKET IF YOU’RE INADVERTANTLY SPOILED. 

The latest Night City Wire as of August exposed three incipient “life paths”, or starting branches of V’s path. I’ll tackle my personal narrative approaches to them in the order of my choosing.

Nomads: CP2077 is set in a world where much of what we understand to define a family has been blown up, tossed around by climate change and nuclear fire and then stitched back together using grit, resourcefulness and the last dying embers of human decency. Nomads are less a group of people defined by blood relations and more a cadre of individuals that share something more significant than mere genes. It might be a common history, a set of shared hardships, a yen for similar automotive and engineering-related projects - whatever it is, that something pulls people together in ways Corpo rats and street kids will never experience.

This seems to define even the average Nomad’s degree of education. Surprisingly, Nomads are the most well-read group in Coronado Bay’s greater area, some caravans reportedly including entire RVs packed with books. Nomads generationally elect teachers and record-keepers and seem to care for those cultural remnants of the old world, before Pondsmith’s paranoid alternate sixties kicked off more than a century’s worth of technological progression and rampant dehumanization. To a Night City native, a Nomad’s speech patterns appear precious and uselessly florid, while they might appear almost normal to us - maybe slightly touched by the fact that Grandpa Joe or whatever really wanted you to have your Greek classics down before you were old enough to repair your first CH00H2 carburetor on your own.

That new, mega-clustered version of family matters immensely to the Nomads. You identify to yours the same way Orcs in Shadow of War might refer to their clan, or the same way a Scottish clan might design specific visual cues identifying its members. In normal circumstances, Nomads live, thrive and die in service to the clan - and the opening segment for V’s Nomad origins suggests that something happened to his clan. They’re gone, or so the narration says, without going into further detail. Is V responsible? We don’t currently know. As it stands, however, he is a lone Nomad in a clan of one, and soon finds himself pushed out of the Californian wastes and into Night City’s neon-drenched streets.

Seeing this, I considered the narration as an admission of guilt on V’s part. He feels responsible, and hopes that grinding his way to success will in some way atone for what he’s done. Consequently, my Nomad V would be as gruff as could be, but as moral and upstanding as the setting allows. He considers himself as having been invested with an example to set, and would intend to set his sights on more than just filthy lucre. Honest filthy lucre is what matters to him, if that concept even is possible: he might deal in unsavory types and illicit activities, but he always does so with a certain moral rectitude - as a tough and gruff, lean and stringy type you can occasionally catch in his battered Thornton pick-up truck with his feet up on the dashboard and a dog-eared copy of Plato’s Republic in hand. Jackie honestly wonders how he can put up with that Greek pendejo’s endless words and the lack of scrolling animations, while V keeps his Kiroshi optics’ News ticker locked onto grassroots Leftist RSS feeds that stoke a bit of an ignored Rockerboy ethos in him. Quoting Marx in Night City might feel like trying to teach lab rats in the finer points of string theory, but it at least feels genuine to him, compared to the predigested sociopolitical pap Militech, Arasaka and their ilk are more than happy to spew on the airwaves. 

There’s a lot to be pissed off about in Richard Night’s failed utopia, a lot of fat cats to gut and buildings to burn. Still, he leaves the glowering act and the churning rage to Johnny Silverhand’s imprinted ghost. Being more of a down-low, gun-toting choomba than a classic Street Samurai, Vincent “V” Carson thinks first and strikes second.

Vinnie isn’t much for electric guitars and anarchy in the UK, much less in the Free State of Southern California; but he does love the occasional Leonard Cohen ballad or the occasional shot of Johnny Cash’s melancholy. Having picked up something of a Northern Texas drawl while cruising, he might feel like Harry Dresden’s Good Ol’ Boy cousin, magic tricks here pushed aside in favor of a measure of dermal plating and a good ol’ fashioned twelve-gauge and revolver combo. Not being much of a techno-fetishist, he considers his optics and his skull jack as being begrudging concessions to an era that looks down on fully “ganic” types. Having grown up with TV serials and the occasional visor-based Braindance all depicting cyberpsychosis as something vile that utterly dehumanizes its sufferers, he’s naturally wary around anyone who seems a little too giddy with the prospect of taking a few scalpels to perfectly decent muscles and bones.

His Thornton is where most of his Eddies go, and yes, he’s named his truck Suzie. Suzie’s done right by him, and he’ll do right by her - unless someone else with a pretty smile and a working moral compass makes him swoon.

Street Kids: if you weren’t taught on the highways or in corporate arcologies, odds are you became a positive blip in an otherwise grim statistic, one of the myriad fucked-up kids raised by other fucked-up kids with more seniority than you. With no roads and paid-for nannies, you survived off of grifts, grit, violence, deceit, smarts and gumption - and that, in its own screwball way, creates its own blood ties. You’re wise by Heywood’s standards - streetwise, that is - and you speak the back-alleys’ lingua franca of threats, insinuation and casual intimidation like no other.

If only Jackie hadn’t fingered that Rayfield, huh? This beaut could’ve been paydirt! Well, at least for a week or so, judging by the fact that hundreds of car thefts are reported across Night City on a daily basis. At least, Dean - who also goes as “V” - got to make a new friend while out in the pokey, and managed to shake a few proverbial trees... They’ve got a short-lease in with Trauma Team’s frequency and could maybe hook themselves up with a sweet finder’s fee for anyone who’s on the verge of death at the hands of the city’s Scavengers...

Little does V know, that’s selling Trauma Team as well as their clients painfully short. Shows of gratitude don’t mean anything if you’re not packing the right social status. He barely remembers his birth parents as it is, and grew up the fifth grubby prospect of one of the Valentinos’ “school clubs” (hence the nickname) - where the points of study refer to the proper observances to be held in Jesus Malaverde’s presence, intensive Chicano and Spanish immersion, as well as the handling of common types of weaponry.

Vincent and Dean would be likely to shoot one another, if placed in the same room. One clings onto nearly-lost value systems, while the other commodifies what can be discarded like so much flesh - only inasmuch as his efforts to pacify his unofficial five or six abuelas force him to forego extensive modifications. His knives and wrist-mounted data port are his main tools of the trade, although Dean keeps his hacking creds along the bare minimum. Why bother, when melting an ATM’s ICE wall and whacking the cops with a baseball bat is all you need? There’s a type of gun for nearly anything else, if someone knows where to look...

Dean has no last name, and is consequently registered as “Dean Smith” in the city’s Census records. That doesn’t suggest, however, that he wouldn’t want to make one for himself. As he’s less focused on the city’s legends than on its kingmakers and pawn-movers, Dexter DeShawn strikes him as someone to emulate, watch and learn from - all with a decent degree of caution.

Being on top matters a little less to him than eventually pulling Heywood’s stings. With a little fear and a lot of persistence, Dean “V.” Smith knows that one day, he won’t go hungry on a weeknight. To that end, he’s certainly a hearty eater, here paired with extensive free-weight training regimens and the use of anabolic stimulants. Oh, sure, he’ll speak of family and blood like the best soldier festooned in Santa Muerte visual codices, but his friend Jackie’s got a mind like a slow and steady steel trap.

Either Dean blows his new fellow Street Samurai out of the pond, or he does. Unlike Jackie, however, Dean isn’t realistic about it. Friendships are a rare gift in Heywood, if not the rest of Night City, and Dean’s convinced that Jackie could conceivably look past his final betrayal.

Corpo: nowadays, we’re mostly familiar with the idea of one-percenters creating a bubble of affluence for themselves. Boarding schools, private villas, prebooked vacations across the globe’s priciest spots, access to the hottest trends on the minute of their inception - what this tends to forego is the level of social disconnect that’s required in order to stay relevant. We’re only just waking up to the consequences of letting an aging, crusty first-generation Yuppie be crowned the ruler of the free world, and even someone who’s behind on their Bret Easton Ellis could tell you that Donald J. Trump is a sociopath and a narcissist.

Take that mindset, and cultivate it into an ethos that’s taught to children from a very early age - children who live, eat, shit and breathe in accordance with their parent corporation’s tenets. The more placid, mid-tier lifers in the genre are called sararimen, in reference to William Gibson’s use of the term to designate low-level company workers in Chiba City. A bit like Shenzhen’s factory workers and execs, everything in a corpo’s life is in service to the corporation.

In Night City, as of 2077, two major players have installed this culture of total obedience in their roster. Their names are Militech and Arasaka. One is a juggernaut in the field of military-grade personal defence, the other has a wider grasp and reach, but is more fragile. Arasaka owes that fragility to the last fifty years having involved its re-establishment and reconstruction. Fifty years ago, Night City’s Corpo Plaza was blasted open by a thermonuclear discharge that sent the Japanese giant packing. The charges had been set by three Edgerunners: Rogue, Morgan Blackhand and Johnny Silverhand - accessorily a well-respected Rockerboy and front-line member of the band SAMURAI. Only Rogue survived that fateful night, or so the street lingo goes, having gone on to start a legitimate consultation business as well as a fruitful career in the hospitality business. Her bar, the Afterlife, is Night City’s hotspot for every techie, script kiddie and accomplished cyber-spelunker.

Our gal Vivian knows this. She knows this, because Vivian “V.” Banks lives two lives.

In one of them, she’s a lean and hungry Junior Executive in Arasaka’s Counter-Intel division. In that line of work, you either fuck someone’s prospects or protect your own, or ensure that no up-and-comer just out of the company’s Law School program manages to push you off the board. She knows full well that in centuries past, corpo-speak was made up of mild euphemisms that at best referred to destroying a rival’s prospects or lifelihood. Taking a life was something that required careful deliberation, especially when tossing a fat severance bonus into an aging CFO’s three-piece pockets and letting your erstwhile rival snort cocaine off of the rolling hips of Tahitian dancers was so much cheaper...

Nowadays, zeroing someone is commonplace.

You’re born for Arasaka, and chances are you’ll die for Arasaka just the same. Viv’s killed, lied, cheated and even stole her way to her position, remorse being this vaguely churning sense of coldness in her gut that keeps one-night stands coming in and out of her bedroom. She only remembers her parents as being credit-chip enablers and personal enhancement drug addicts, cutting ties with them so completely on the day of her official hiring that it felt more like a tacit understanding.

On most days, sex and booze keep the cold at bay. On most days, Vivian Banks is a class-act of a sociopath. The stronger she gets, however, and the more paranoid her targets become - which reinforces her own paranoia. Before long, playing the part of one of Arasaka’s several poisonous flowers won’t work anymore.

Unfortunately, she trusts no-one. No Fixer could put her in contact with any hacker she’d trust, no rando fresh off the street with a retro-tinted National Arms plinker would satisfy her. To climb up the ranks and maybe share tea with Old Man Saburo himself, she needs a spotless performance record. She needs skills.

More importantly, she needs a reputation. That means leaving Arasaka Tower and mingling with the experts in their own field - and it means filling out her back book of successful hits. The drinks at the Afterlife are decent enough, but what she’s after is an official in.

If she can get to Rogue, or maybe even hook up with a ripperdoc not bought and paid for by the company, she might be able to score both new skills and increased performance...

If it were as simple as slitting Janet’s throat in HR and diving her way to an orgiastic performance review quite innocently left on the department’s server, she would’ve done that already. Viv is my obvious Pure Stealth build candidate, my main-line hacker and would-be engineer with a thing for black power skirts and designer offensive augments.

With that said, we’re months ahead of schedule, all the good shit’s already come out, so we’re stuck playing the waiting game...

What are your own character or build ideas for Cyberpunk 2077?

[justhereforthefanfiction]

Undeniably Stoked | Charlie & Matteo fanfic - aka the epic, enemies-to-lovers romance no one asked for.

Welcome to the not-so crack!fic of Charlie & Matteo - the epic, enemies-to-lovers romance of SS Titanic that no one asked for!

Backstory: I made a joke about how Charlie/Matteo would make a great enemies-to-lovers pairing somewhere on Storyscape’s reddit, and now the joke’s on me coz I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So lo and behold, here is my first fanfic on the most unlikely, but awesome pairing that never existed.

I initially set out to write this as a crack!fic but my brain had other ideas, dammit.

I also love these boys. I don’t care if they aren’t my OTP - this was so much fun to write!

P.S: Apologies for the title. I liked it too much to find a more appropriate one! Also apologies in advance for the formatting and style of the piece. I didn’t have this edited by someone else - this is literally a brain dump.

PSS: Don't write fanfiction when you're half asleep, folks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING! This is a just a bit of fun!

Undeniably Stoked

Genre: Drama/Romance

Pairing: Charlie/Matteo

TW: Character death, Unsinkable sinking ships, misleading happy title is misleading

[Charlie]

I saw you.

Through the lift gate. Towering above her in a descending lift, suit sharply cut, and a smirk as slick as your hair. You were her blackmailer’s valet, her prison warden. You were not to be trusted. But around you, you carried a curious air - a stately presence that you were to be seen and heard. It was clear as day you wanted more, to be known as more.

I quietly marvelled at how quickly you saw me as a threat, at the walls that went up, the cruel humour a mask you hid behind to assert your dominance that I barely registered the insult. Bland? Was that what you were worried about becoming? Invisible?

But what startled me the most, was your desire to get a rise out of me. A sly quip, haughty bright eyes, drawn shoulders and a raised eyebrow. Little did I know that this would later characterise our subsequent exchanges. You sought me out, you always did. Looking, seeking my reaction.

The boy that hid behind his suit. The boy who wanted to belong.

You don’t need a day to get a measure of someone. Sometimes it only takes an hour. Or a moment.

And in that moment I did.

I saw you.

[Matteo]

I heard you.

Making promises you couldn’t keep. Bold in your false confidence and naivety. I know your lot. Promising the world. Promising things will be okay if you worked hard enough. Tried hard enough. The ridiculous notion that a good heart, good work and self-belief will prevail against all odds.

What a childish, dangerous fallacy. And what a childish, dangerous thing to do - to raise her hopes up.

I was like you once. Briefly, before reality set me right. The real world does not work that way. I learned that a long time ago. Good hearts and hard work do not always prevail. Sometimes, life is just unfair and you need to do what you can to survive.

I look at this woman. I know her background, her gumption, her aspirations. But more importantly, I know her chances. And I know what she has to lose.

There is a reason why you believe you can thrive. You still trust the world. The world hasn’t let you down yet.

And I seethe. Your words, your false promises echo long after I leave her side.

‘…Trust me…I won’t let you down…’

I heard you.

[Charlie]

I heard you.

Your complexion, red. Your eyes, skirting. Your hands below the table, cards held in loosely fidgeting hands. You watch the scene unfold between your master and her, quietly. Lump in throat.

Your betrayal was loud and clear.

Only one other person knew about the circumstances and could have told their master.

And I was looking at him.

My blood begins to boil as I see this woman’s life fall apart, her eyes darting between her blackmailer and sister. How could we have gotten it so wrong? Was the prison warden a willing executioner in disguise?

Your eyes connect with mine, and I do not look away. The man clamouring for clout and status is gone. I see a shamefaced boy, and I pause.

This act did not give you pleasure. No smirk in sight, no air of arrogance. I see you, deflated, head hung low, back bent.

Suddenly, I am no longer concerned about what you did, but what it cost you.

And all I hear is silence.

[Matteo]

I see you.

I see what she sees in you. Your steadfast support, unquestionable loyalty in the face of temptation. Your fire. An unnamed emotion grips my chest as I watch how easily you sacrificed your livelihood for your principles.

Foolish boy. I squirm in my seat.

Can’t you see you can’t win?

When he finally leaves, I look at the three of them, and I try. Try to tell them what I know is true. That you can’t win, you have to adapt and survive.

That I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

My master is the devil, and he owns my soul. But if they were wise, if they listened….

You came toe-to-toe at me, your white uniform reflecting the afternoon sunlight, golden buttons glistening brightly. I watched the fire in your eyes, ablaze with disappointment. You did not back down. The unnamed emotion comes by again, this time striking me in the throat. I belatedly recognise that that emotion is admiration.

I take in the scene before I leave, the door held ajar. I see the unvoiced question in your eyes.

‘What did it cost you?’

A rising tide of emotion overwhelms me. I move my hand, finally letting the door close between us.

[Charlie]

I hear you before I see you.

Your gait and polished, leather shoes always had a certain staccato rhythm that I’ve come to associate with you.

Clack, clack, clack. And a pause.

You’ve finally seen me.

[Matteo]

I see you before I hear you.

The first thing my eyes are drawn to are the gold buttons on your uniform. They don’t shine as brightly as they did against the white.

I feel a plummeting sensation in my stomach, and I hadn’t even set a step beyond the lift gate.

Your face betrays no surprise by my presence, and with the ways things ended between us last time, I would have expected a colder reception.

You meet my gaze with a short nod, and ask me for my floor.

Not a flicker of emotion. You are a fortress.

I look away as you close the gates. My emotions turbulent and roiling as the sea in a storm.

The lift starts to descend.

“For what it’s worth, you have my sincerest apology.”

I watch your face. For a moment, I am worried you hadn’t heard me, but the thought flies out of my head when your eyes meet mine.

“Why did you do it?”

I shake my head. My heart is in my throat.

“I had to.”

“Did he force you to? What kind of hold…”

“No, Charlie…”. You startle at my use of your first name.

“I mean…”. I sigh.

“Just my livelihood.”

The words hang awkwardly in the air. The painful irony of sharing my potential loss of livelihood to a man who has sacrificed his so willingly isn’t lost on me.

Suddenly, it was getting harder to swallow and breathe.

“Hey, I get it”.

I look at you. Gone is the inscrutable expression on your face. Instead, I see your kind eyes. Your earnest expression.

If anything, it made it harder to swallow and breathe properly. I look away.

“I heard you the last time you know. About not just being a Londoner, a Brit.”

Your voice is low and soft. I take a chance and look at you. You refuse to look away.

“I get that my life is not the same as yours. I’ve had better and worse jobs. I’ll be fine.”

Your voice drops. I find myself staring at your gold buttons, waiting for your next words.

“But your world is different. You’re treated differently. We’re not the same.”

You pause, a sad smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“No one can blame you for needing to survive.”

“For what it’s worth…” you smile as you throw my words back at me, “I don’t”.

“That is why I have to fight, even if no one asked me to take up arms. Everyone deserves to survive.”

I jolt at your words.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve gone above and beyond your duty. Adele is fortunate to have you in her corner.”

The words come tumbling out, unbidden and loose. Your eyes widen at my heartfelt address. I mentally scold myself for my casual delivery but before I can act, your eyes crinkle and lips curve into a beam.

“I’d do it for anyone. Everyone needs someone in their corner.”

The lift comes to a halt but I’ve barely registered we stopped moving. By the time I realise what is happening, I clock your kind smile and eyes. But I can’t breathe properly. My throat is working overtime. What is worse, my eyes are wet and my vision begins to blur.

Without saying a word, you close the lift gates back and we make our ascent to the top floor. You take a step closer to me. I feel your warmth, your steady breaths and calmness. I don’t know how long we stand in companionable silence, but I know one thing.

You’ve finally seen me.

[Charlie]

An unspoken truce and friendship emerges.

I see you several times later that day, my eyes looking to find you on every floor I’ve dropped you off.

And while I haven’t seen the lonely boy behind the suit ever since that morning, I’ve seen glimpses of the man you’ve hidden away. Nods turn into warm smiles. A preference for standing behind me no matter how crowded or empty the lift is. A glance at me behind you whenever you disembark.

Unknowingly, you take up more space in my thoughts as the day goes by. I start to question my newfound fascination with the boy who wore his suit for an armour. Something has changed. Something has cracked and allowed warmth and light to shine through.

The answer comes quickly enough.

The boy has found a place he belongs.

[Matteo]

The party is in full swing. Ladies and gents decked in their finest silks, lace and jewellery have come to celebrate the birthday event, and were dressed to the nines.

Once upon a time I would have revelled in being amongst such company; mingling, and holding many a vacuous conversation about gambling or other various forms of entertainment that was popular with their like.

Now I can’t help but feel it a tedious undertaking.

Tonight is the night, and I am filled with restless energy. I look for James and Adele in the crowd, and nod in their direction when they make eye contact. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar blue figure with gold buttons. I smile, watching you assist an elderly gentleman across the decks. I am not surprised, you were always one to go above and beyond.

[Charlie]

After assisting Mister Washburn to the right side of the deck, I find myself taken in by the sight of the stars.

I make my way to the railing and stare at the heavens. Looking into the night sky reminds me that all my problems are smaller than they seem. I take a deep breath. I hear a faint but familiar staccato rhythm as the smell of your spicy pomade hits my senses.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t enjoy the party, Matteo?”

You smile at my use of your first name.

“Preferred this party instead.”

I nod. You join me at the railing, hands splayed on either side. A finger taps rhythmically as you stare into the vast darkness. I note that you’re restless, like myself.

“You reckon she’ll be alright?” I let slip.

Your eyes find me in the semi darkness. A pause, and then a handsome smile erupts.

“Either way, we’ll fight. And we’ll take up arms.”

I bark out a laugh. Your smile reaches your eyes. At the same moment, we look at our hands. Our finger tips are a few inches apart.

I’m swept by the sudden urge to grab your hand. And so I do.

“We’ll fight, we’ll take up arms, and we’ll survive.”

[Matteo]

“We’ll fight, we’ll take up arms, and we’ll survive.”

I can’t stop staring at our joined hands. I can scarcely believe it. I can hear my heart pounding fiercely, my face is warm and my ears are filled with white noise.

I blink rapidly as I look at you. A flush spreads across your pale face, but your eyes flash with determination. I feel my hand being squeezed tighter.

“Our relationship has been rather - well - complicated, shall we say?” I start.

“At the very least.” You smile to yourself.

“How do you look back on our exchanges, Charlie?”

You purse your lips. I am unable to look away.

“We haven’t exactly made each other’s lives easier, have we?” a grin blossoms.

I look into your eyes, taking in your long lashes.

“In a short space of time, you have mine.”

I grip your hand back in emphasis.

“I pride myself on my judgement, but it failed me entirely when I met you. I didn’t see you or hear you. I had no idea. I must have been a fool not to see it at once.”

I step closer to you.

“You are utterly extraordinary”.

I look at past you at the horizon, not daring to look at your face as I complete my thoughts.

“I am a cynic, but I hope…must hope, that your feelings are returned.”

I take your hand and raise it to my lips.

“I need to know, if your feelings are the same?”

I finally dare to meet your eyes, and am surprised to see the intensity of your gaze. Before I know what to make of it, I feel your warm palm cup the back of my head and pull me towards your face.

Your lips are soft and pillowy as I knew they would be, and soon I melt into your broad, warm embrace.

[Charlie]

We break apart and try to catch our breaths, as they float away as puffy clouds in the frigid night air.

You straighten up and shoot me a gentle, shy smile.

“Foolish boy”, I say in jest as you give me a surprised smile.

“I think I fell for you the moment I saw you at the gate.”

We stand there smiling at each other like goofballs until we hear the whistles from the crew pierce the night air.

Suddenly, an iceberg emerges on the horizon and in horror we brace for impact.

My heart thuds heavily into the pit of my stomach. I look at you somberly. I can see worry cloud your face.

“Do you think…”, you drift off, unable to finish the sentence.

“I need to be sure.” I say simply.

You nod, unable to hide your concern. You hold both of my hands against your chest.

Swallowing hard, you hold my gaze. I can practically see the thoughts whizzing through your brain. The words are caught in your throat.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back” I smile as assuredly as I can.

You say only one word.

“Hurry”.

[Matteo]

We are in the belly of the beast.

After you left, I dove straight back into the party and found Adele. You found us, and Hileni, and now we are in the unenviable position of arming ourselves for a fighting chance of survival.

I watch you as you plot and plan, helping us find a path that would guarantee our lives. I am quiet, filled with that familiar emotion of admiration. Instead of doom and gloom, I found that there was no other place I’d rather be than right here with this motley crew.

I belonged right here in the thick of it, by your side.

As if hearing my thoughts, you turn around and smile at me as the girls climb past their way into the engine room.

“How are you doing?” you ask.

“Never better”. I make a quick grab of your hand and squeeze it tightly.

Suddenly cries erupt from a boiler room adjacent to ours. Trimmers rush in, with harried cries to close the door behind them.

With a quick squeeze in apology, you release my hand to head down to those men.

The worse case scenario emerges. Our path ahead has fallen.

[Charlie]

I look back at the three shiny faces that depend on me, and take a breath.

Time is ticking away, the ship is about to sink, and I have to help us escape. As I start going through my options, I can’t help but take in the sights and sounds of the trimmers at work. I look at the Carrems and you, lit aglow by the dancing firelight. My decision has been made.

I beckon you to come with me while I leave the sisters in the boiler room.

We walk into the cavernous air vent and into the spot of moonlight, its rays casting shadows across your solemn face. As I walk you through the plan ahead, I feel you withdrawing away from me.

I pause. You raise an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

You snort inelegantly.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

I halt.

“Don’t even think about it, you’re coming with us”.

“Please understand. My whole career started here in the boiler room. These are my people. I have to stay.”

“YOU’RE WRONG!”. I’m taken aback by the ferocity of your statement. You grab my face none too gently, forcing me to look at you in the eye.

“You are my people. We -“. Your voice breaks, tears tracking down your face. You close your eyes in anguish. My heart dies a little.

“Adele, Hileni and I are your people.”

You grab me by the shoulders and hold me close.

“Stay with me.”

I look at the man in front of me, and I know he will be okay. He has found his people, and learned to open his heart. Gone is the boy who used his suit as an armour against the world. He has finally learnt how to belong and love.

“You will be alright, Matteo - ”

You look up at me with a flash of anger.

“Your stupid, stupid promises. Stop making promises you can’t keep.”

I can’t prevent the chasm, the wound or the world of hurt on your face. But I can’t afford to lose my resolve, and pray for strength.

“Please listen -“ I cut you off before you can interrupt. “I cannot walk away. That is not who I am.”

This stills you. You give a pained laugh, shake your head and finally look at me; an upturned corner of your lip through the tears.

“You were always one to go above and beyond, you foolish boy.”

The words don’t sting. But your tortured face? I couldn’t decide which was more devastating, your anguish or your reluctant resignation. 

My face is wet. I give a watery smile back.

“Fight. Survive. And, from time to time, spare an occasional thought for a poor English boy who loved ships. Do that, and I’ll be happy.”

I hold your hand and put it over my heart.

“And stay with your people. They need you.”

[Matteo]

I walk back like a zombie, in a haze of defeat and grief.

All the whilst holding your hand.

Upon seeing our return, the sisters gather around us, Adele being the first to notice our clasped hands.

“What is going on?”

I take a deep breath and look into my beloved’s face. You warily look into my face, assessing my state.

At that moment, I decide to show you I can and will fight for our survival. That you can have this peace of mind.

As calm and removed as I can, I explain to the Carrems that they are to follow me. You graciously take the burden of explaining that you will stay. I know I couldn’t bear it.

The sisters predictably break down in tears. I am a hair’s breadth away from giving in myself, when I feel your hand squeeze mine. Through the hugs and the tearful goodbyes, your eyes are never far from mine.

The floor tilts, we exchange looks.

I take charge, and move the girls along.

As they head towards the vent, I make my way to you as you shrug off your coat.

Instead of urging me to go back, you raise your arms wide open and welcome me in a tight embrace. I grab your face in a kiss full of desperation, hoping it will convey everything you mean to me.

Too soon we break apart. And you say only one word.

“Survive”.

[Matteo]

I look in horror at the ship as it tilts towards the heavens, my heart breaking as I start to see the lights flicker out.

I came onboard this ship wanting to survive and make it in cruel world; hoping to make myself undeniable in reputation, worth, and status in the eyes of those who mattered.

In the end, none of it mattered.

Rich or poor, famous or unknown, it does not matter who you are, or what you own. We all die the same.

A much needed lesson I had to learn from you.

Because it isn’t the personal effects, the wealth, or my social standing I find myself caring about.

It is you.

My beloved, who I know does not have long left.

I watch as the last of the lights flicker out and my stomach bottoms out. Adele clutches my hand tightly. A fresh wave of despair grips my heart.

My beloved, a foolish boy who in a few short moments taught me how to love.

To thrive. To still trust the world. That the world hasn’t let you down yet.

It amazes me at just how quickly you came into my life and changed it.

Because you don’t need a day to make a difference to someone. Sometimes it only takes an hour. Or a moment.

I see and I hear the ship sinking below the waves, taking my beloved from me. But not completely. I silently brand our memories and love into my consciousness - an oath to remember and honour the boy who loved his ships, loved his people, and saw what I truly needed. To belong.

A/N: Sooooo.... things took a pretty melodramatic twist, and all the crack-y, silly humour left the window the more I got into it. Sorry!

Also, my brain did a weird thing with the tenses. Went for a style while I was writing it but now I'm second guessing myself. Either way, I'm always down for some con-crit! Send some my way if its not working for you! I swear I wrote and finished this 7 hours past my bedtime (fanfic>sleep, amirite?), coz this damn plot bunny wouldn't leave me be. Here's hoping it entertained some of you!

Let me know what you think of this pairing! 😂

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

Coming Out Update

[CW: coming out, unsupportive families, transphobia]

I haven’t actually talked about it yet!  Was distracting myself from the whole ordeal by burrowing down in religious trauma.  Thanks, Pastor K.  Great, existential distraction. 

So here’s the in-and-out.

I’m twenty-three and live on my own in New Orleans, far away from my family.  I moved down here in June and started testosterone in July.  I didn’t tell anyone from back home what I was doing, and when I came out to a few trusted people, it was still a closely guarded secret from my parents. 

Knowing I had to tell them eventually, and that I might change a bit too much by Christmas to keep it a secret, I decided to come out to them.  I wrote them a letter-- I’m too far away to come out in person, and that wouldn’t have been safe.  Coming out over the phone felt insensitive, and my parents don’t have good enough internet connection or tech. know-how to manage a video chat.  So, letter it was. 

It was not graciously received, to put it delicately. 

My mom reached out pretty quickly, texting me a few questions about what I was doing.  Was I using a doctor.  Did I do the research.  Am I shaving yet. 

Then, she sent me a dozen or so big ole paragraphs of heartbreak.  

This continued for several days, until one evening she reached out over the phone.  That first conversation was hard.  She doesn’t understand what I’m doing, she thinks it’s stupid and dangerous, and that I’m making some monumental mistake.  She doesn’t understand why I can’t just be a “strong woman.”  I wish I had any concrete answer to why I am the way that I am, but the deeper I investigate it, the more I get wrapped up in “Gender Doesn’t Even Exist, Technically” and it’s just. A whole mess. 

I can’t explain why I am this way, besides the fact that I KNOW I’m this way, y’know? 

Whatever. 

She also told me that my dad had declared me dead, took down every photo of me in the house, and was considering sending out funeral announcements. 

He might not ever speak to me again. 

Don’t come home for Christmas, he doesn’t want to see me. 

That hit me pretty hard.  It feels like a pretty disgusting betrayal, honestly, to know a person for their entire lifetime, to have big conversations with them, to get to know them, to have their feelings spelled out to you with ink and paper, and to say “No, I quit.” 

I mourned for a few days.  Listened to the song Heartache Medication on repeat, bought a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and couldn’t find the gumption to drink any of it. Slept a lot.  Cried to one of my professors.

He’s changed his mind, allegedly.  I’m not quite sure where I stand.  But at my mother’s behest, I sent him a text message saying I’m ready to talk whenever he is, give me a call. 

He did not respond, but he did send me a picture of a deer he shot and asked where he should mount the head. 

Then, a week later, he calls me.  We did not talk about it.  We talked about his deer, and about my uncle who has covid, and about school and work and a problem with my apartment’s plumbing.  I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he wanted to talk about it.  He hung-up before I found the balls. 

Mom says he’s not ready yet, but he’s reading things.  She won’t tell me what he’s reading.  I’m just hoping it’s not TERF ideology, or God forbid, Lutheran brainwash bullshit.  I know he doesn’t get it.  I desperately want him too, though, and I wish he’d just reach out to Me for information.  If anyone’s gonna help him understand... 

Anyways.  My mom still calls me by my birthname, refers to me as “she/her” when mentioning her and my father’s conversations.  On the other hand, she hasn’t referred to me as “her girl” or “beautiful” since I’ve told her.  She agreed that I’ve been pretty gender fucky for a good while now, and that this isn’t the most unpredictable thing I could have done. 

When I was little she had this astrology book that gave a personality analysis based on birth day.  My assignment was “Day of the Curveball,” meaning I never do what I’m supposed to, I always do things my own way, and no matter what I’m going to catch you off guard with it.  She referenced this book endlessly through my growing up, because it was pretty accurate.  I was always rather difficult.  I mentioned it to her, saying that God really designed me to catch her off guard, and it got a laugh out of her. 

She reassures me that she loves me.  She wants me to change my name from Joseph to Johann.  I’m not going to.  I’ve found a name that fits. 

She tried putting Christmas back into my hands, but was rather relieved when I said it was best that I not come home yet.  They’re not ready yet, and I don’t want to be in a place that’s gonna make this all harder for everyone.  Kinda pisses me off that she shifted the responsibility of coming home for Christmas back onto me, after telling me not to come home and that they could not bear to look at me.  Shitty thing to tell a person, but I’m not really in a position to be hurt over it.  At least not verbally so. 

Things are unfolding to be not so bad.  They still love me, and they’re still talking to me.  The bar is rather low.  I listen to other trans people’s stories, about how hurt they are when their families won’t use their names or pronouns or proper words, and that hurt is entirely valid and real, I’m not taking that away from anyone.  It’s just, the reality of my parents making any of those changes for me is pretty improbable.  I don’t know how long it’s going to take.  They might not ever come around. 

She asked what I wanted for Christmas, and I said that if she sends a card I want her to refer to me as her son in it.  You’d think I asked her to kill baby Jesus himself with the response I got.  

In reflection, I’m content with the way I told them.  There was no good way to tell them, and there was no possible good response on their end.  It is what it is, and I’ve spoken my peace.  I’m also glad with how I’ve gone about the whole thing-- waiting until I was older, doing it independently, putting that distance in place.  It makes it easier to do this maturely and gracefully when I’m not still tied to the apron strings.  The parental rejection has made me feel a hell of a lot like a child, but I’m glad to be able to do this without resorting to that fiery teenage temper.  They need to know that this is an adult decision coming from their adult child, and there’s nothing they can do to change it.  

I’m glad I waited until I was several months in to transitioning before telling them too, so they couldn’t think they could change my mind.  

She didn’t even try and change my mind, which proves how well she knows me, honestly.  She raised one hard-headed bastard.  She knows this. 

Love you, mom.  And sorry.

[alwaysmychoices]

“Unspoken”

Synopsis: After a magical day on the river, Ethan and Charlie are faced with the weight of all their unspoken feelings...

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Choices Story: Open Heart

Rating: NSFW (there is a divider before the smut)

Words: 7487 (oops)

Part 3 of “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey” 

part 1: drunk texts - part 2: a day with dr. ramsey - part 3: unspoken - part 4: in the morning light - part 5: brunch - part 6: the library -  part 7: the cure - part 8: the celebration - part 9: coming soon

Commenting, liking, and reblogging mean the world to writers, so thank you so much for engaging with my content!

The drive to Boston was quiet.

Jenner had fallen asleep in Charlie’s lap early into the drive, snoozing contently after a long day at the river. Charlie’s directions were no longer needed as Ethan was fully capable of navigating them back to the city without them, and for that, she was grateful. Her mind already felt as if it were bursting at the seams with too many thoughts, and she stared into the passing scenery as if the dark night could provide elusive clarity.

The problem with a magical day is that the sun always sets, and when it does, you’re left in the dark.

When Charlie looked at Dr. Ethan Ramsey, she saw a kaleidoscope of a man. Every angle was a new side of him that she’d never seen before. Sometimes, she felt like she could reach out and connect with the shimmering smile in front of her, but there was always a wall separating her from the illusion. He was so close, but he was still so far away…

Tonight, under the soft moonlight glow, Ethan didn’t look like the confident doctor she’d met in Edenbrook. Concern etched itself into his handsome features, and a lingering air of defeat and disappointment followed him like a cruel haunting. From the passenger side, she could see the knot between his eyebrows, an expression she remembered as his sign of deep concentration. He was thinking hard about something, but Charlie had no idea what.

As much as she admired and adored the man beside her, she couldn’t pretend to fully understand him. She knew him more than most, but there were so many undiscovered layers, so many secrets he kept from her. She wondered if she would ever know all of Ethan. Would he ever let her that close?

“You’re staring,” Ethan cut his eyes to Charlie, unable to contain the urge to take his eyes off the road to look at her. The doctor inside of him chastised such behavior. He’d seen many patients come through his hospital from lovesick injuries, each easily preventable but prompted by reckless actions by someone in love.

But he was retired now, wasn’t he? The doctor inside of him lacked credence over his human desires. And his chief desire was to be close to Dr. Greene, even if she seemed a million miles away tonight.

He imagined Rafael Aveiro looking at her. Rafael’s eyes would never be guarded. They’d unabashedly admire the beautiful intern, no inhibitions to guard like Ramsey. Ethan wondered if Rafael’s gaze had the same intensity of his own. Did Rafael love her?

Of course, he does, Ethan didn’t have to hypothesize. Everyone loved Charlie. They’d be a fool not to. If she could make a man as cold as Ethan form an attachment, what could she do with a man like Rafael?  

Something was stirring inside of Ethan’s chest. Jealousy burned at his skin, every nerve ending overcome with the emotion. His mind was consumed with unwelcome images of the two of them together, of a part of Charlie’s life that he knew nothing about. There was so much more to this enigmatic woman than what he knew. He’d caught glimpses of her fiery determination and self-destructive sense of duty to her patients as well as her lack of self-protective instincts, all of which challenged her career in the upcoming ethics hearing.

A smile perked at his lips as he remembered his own first year of residency. Back then, he was overcome with his own ego, but even in his ambitious drive, did he have the balls to take on Big Pharma like she did? Even today, did he have the reckless bravery of the woman next to him?

There was a swell of pride as he thought about all she’d done. As her mentor, he was severely disappointed in her irresponsible behavior, but as Ethan, he was proud as hell.

“Sorry,” Charlie mumbled, “Just thinking… I guess I focused on you or something.” Charlie’s voice trailed off as if she was pulled back by the tide of her own thoughts.

Ethan glanced at her again, so deeply concentrated. Desperately, he wanted to know what was happening in that mind of hers. More than ever, he wanted to be the man that knew her, the one that cared for her.

But he couldn’t ask for that.

Because if he did, he would be forced to answer the unasked question lingering in every interaction – Did Ethan Ramsey love Charlie Greene?

Theoretically, such a realization should have been the culmination of his linear progression of acceptance. Their relationship began with disdain and disinterest. Though he was impressed by her gumption and assistance during their first meeting, she was flawed. She had yet to perfect her technique and lacked the experience to trust her intuition. She had potential, of course, but she was merely an unformed piece of clay.

He remembered telling Naveen about their first encounter. He’d given Charlie a scathing review littered with uncharacteristic compliments, and Ethan remembered the look in Naveen’s eyes when he first spoke of her – it was the same look Naveen gave them tonight.

Naveen was a shrewd diagnostician, and he clearly could diagnose Ethan long before Ethan could recognize the change in himself.

Over time, Ethan accepted that he admired Charlie. There was no harm in acknowledging her potential, and he gradually became accustomed to the idea of mentoring the young student. He watched her thrive through the competition, working hard to reach the top spot, and Ethan was free to admit his admiration for her work.

So, when had it become personal? When did the professional relationship seep into his personal life? Had the lines always been blurry, and had his heart been involved the entire time?

Undoubtedly, Ramsey exhibited favoritism, and to Harper’s appreciation, he acknowledged it.

Over time, he accepted different aspects of their unorthodox professional partnership. Charlotte Greene was more than an intern. She was his favorite intern. She was his favorite coworker. She was more than a coworker. She was a friend. She was more than a friend. She was…

It was this final diagnosis that Ethan couldn’t make. What was Charlotte? And could he bear to admit the truth?

“What are you thinking about?” Ethan didn’t anticipate saying those words, and once he did, even he was stunned d by them.

Charlie stared now, disbelief evident in her expression.

“A lot of things,” Charlie was intentionally vague. Since when did Ethan ask her personal questions?

Ethan nodded, honestly disappointed by her evasion.

Silence consumed the car again, but they were too deep in thought to notice.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Dr. Olsen?”

Charlie gasped. Landry. Right.

Somehow, Charlie hadn’t thought of his betrayal once during their adventure with Naveen. Last night, Charlotte Greene tried to drink away her mistakes, one of which was trusting Landry. His deception burned inside of her, irrevocably reframing their friendship. Could she even call it a friendship? Had she always been unwittingly engaged in a silent war with him? If she didn’t have Ethan, would she still have her friend?

Bitter resentment and anger settled into a cold, aching disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She blamed herself for ignoring the obvious signs and for trusting him without any proof of his merit. She questioned others around her, wondering if they held the same disgusting motives as her former friend. She examined her own ambition and its limits. Could she ever do such a thing to someone she loved? And if she could, was she just as bad as him?

“I did,” Charlie laughed weakly.

“When you were drunk,” Ethan corrected her, surprised by his own disappointment and rejection that she hadn’t come to him, “Why didn’t you tell me when you were sober? Why didn’t you tell me about the sabotage when it began?”

Charlie chewed her lower lip, shrugging as she explained, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to give excuses for my problems. Even if you believed me, I would have just been projecting blame. I’m a better doctor than that.”

“If I believed you? Charlie, do you think I wouldn’t have believed you?” Hurt was evident in his voice.

Charlie squirmed, surprised by his accusation and the pain in words. Did it hurt him for her to not trust him?

“I… I don’t know,” Charlie admitted solemnly, “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Charlie, I could never be disappointed in you,” Ethan’s conviction was apparent, and it startled Charlie, “You could have told me.”

Something was swelling in Charlie’s chest, but she was terrified to put a label on such an unfamiliar feeling.

“You could have told me you were leaving,” Charlie was emboldened by the intimate space between them. In this car, under the starlight, they were in a world far from that of Edenbrook. They’d never been closer, yet they’d never been farther away.

Silence. Again.

Ethan’s breath hitched, horrified by her words. Guilt wracked his body, a familiar feeling but an unexpected context. Charlie had never seemed so raw, so vulnerable. The truth in her eyes overwhelmed him. After being so guarded for so long, how did one voice all of the words they’d left unspoken?

“I did,” Ethan’s evasiveness now mirrored Charlie’s.

“No,” Charlie had never put so much emphasis on that one word. She’d never felt so strongly that he hadn’t told her. It was as if his narrative challenged everything she knew, everything she experienced, and she didn’t hesitate to remind him of that day, “You kissed me outside the hospital, took off your badge, announced your resignation, and ignored me as I begged you to stay.”

The bitterness in her voice was palpable, and it was strong enough to expose the darkest part of who they were to one another.

It was now clear that their relationship was merely a patchwork of resentment and adoration, each battling it out beneath the cover of obvious affection for one another. In their quest to do the right thing, they’d levied attacks against one other – each unintended but devasting all the same. They were held together by strings of love that were fraying at the edges, threatening to fracture them if they didn’t do something.

But what were they supposed to do? How did they say something they’d never said before? How could they voice feelings they didn’t even admit to themselves? How could they open themselves up when the threat of being pushed away was so high?

Ethan froze, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as his memory returned to his last day at Edenbrook. He moved through each event, remembering where Charlie stood in each of them. She’d stood next to him through his failure, still looking up at him like an untarnished hero. How could he stay and face that? Who would he be if he pretended to be the man she thought he was, and who would he be if he destroyed her idyllic hope in him?

“I shouldn’t have done that…” Ethan whispered, mostly to himself.

“Which part?” Charlie challenged him, tears threatening to spill as she waited for his confession. She didn’t need him to tell her the answer. She already knew what he regretted, but she dared him to confirm that he regretted her, not leaving. Ethan Ramsey’s misplaced remorse lied in allowing her so close that his departure pained her. When the chips fell, Ethan resorted to his withdrawal instincts, and Charlie knew it.

Anger sprouted through her soul, reigniting months of rejection and waiting. Charlotte Greene was always waiting for Ethan Ramsey and always hoping that he wouldn’t push her away this time. She maintained a naïve assumption that, eventually, he would pull her close instead of casting her out. At what point did she accept defeat?

Now, she felt foolish as she stared down the barrel of last hope. Her day with Ethan Ramsey was beautiful and fostered desire she’d long abandoned that this man could allow himself to love her, but as the sun set on the river, the darkness highlighted the toxic traits that separated them. How stupid had she been to expect him to change all his rules for her? How many interns before her had deluded themselves into thinking they were special?

Ethan’s deep sigh was deafening in their newfound silence. He felt like he was driving straight into a hurricane but couldn’t stop his disastrous trajectory. His instincts urged him to do what he should have done months ago and sever their attachment before it came too dangerous. It was one thing for Ethan to suffer at the hands of Cupid, but to watch Charlotte battle a similar affliction was cruel. He could stop it now…

But as Ethan looked at Charlotte, he hesitated. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t break it off. It was a delusion to think that this relationship was anything but dangerous. The risk had already been taken. An intense desire to hold on took control of his body. It was as if, in the moment of crisis, his mind finally found what he valued most – and it was Charlie.

He should have said that, but he didn’t.

Instead, he asked, “Do you want to come up for a drink?”

Charlie’s gaze never wavered. Rationally, she knew to tell him, No. She knew to get out of his car and walk out of his life because, if he couldn’t love her now, he never would. She knew that she deserved better, but she couldn’t do it. A flicker of hope burned bright in her chest at his invitation. She knew what he was asking but needed him to say it.

“To your apartment?” she prompted.

“Yes.”

“To talk?” Charlie demanded, desperate for him to be explicit for fuck’s sake.

She needed him to say that he was inviting her to come back and talk, to work through their bullshit. She needed him to say that this was worth fighting for. She needed him to acknowledge their precarious state. She needed him to say that he was trying. Because, if he couldn’t, how could they ever find their way?

“Yes.”

“About what we’re fighting about?” Charlie crossed her arms.

“We’re fighting?” Ethan’s eyes flashed with panic.

“Yes,” Charlie asserted, and dread gripped his heart as he nodded in understanding.

Charlie faltered, trying to think of a million reasons to turn him down, but not one stuck. Because, as she saw a hint of fear in his eyes, all she wanted to do was reach out and take his hand.

“One drink,” Charlie finally consented, and for a moment, Ethan’s tight chest felt relief.

But the fear never subsided. They both sensed the finality that approached, and the weight of their unspoken fights and emotions grew increasingly unbearable. Both knew that, at the end of tonight, their unrecognized, longing existence would cease to exist, but neither could anticipate what would follow. When the world stopped spinning, would time still move?

When Ethan arrived home, he hesitated to take the key out of the ignition, and he considered driving far, far away to stay in this little bubble. He wanted to resurrect the day and live it once more, and he wanted to stay with Charlie for as long as he could. But before he could run away, he removed the key from the ignition and stepped out of the car.

Charlie followed, tenderly rousing Jenner, and the three of them made their way through the underground parking garage toward the waiting elevator. Ethan pressed his floor’s number and leaned back into the elevator walls as if it would slow time. He watched her beside him and witnessed concern etch its lines into her forehead, and without thinking, he reached for her hand.

As his fingers laced through hers, Charlie nearly jumped, and she looked back to Ethan with evident shock. He almost pulled away when he saw her expression, but he stopped when she squeezed his hand in return.

And it was enough.

It was enough to try.

When they entered his apartment, Charlie released Jenner from his leash and watched as he jumped on the couch, eagerly waiting for her to join him for another snuggle session. She smiled softly at him, scratching under his chin and placing a kiss on his forehead, before leaving their potential snuggles to talk to Ethan. And for the first time, Ethan was sincerely jealous of his dog.

Ethan was already reaching for the decanter when Charlie joined him, silently watching as he poured out a glass of scotch.

“Scotch or something else?” Ethan was prepared to list every single drink he had in his arsenal, full of nervous energy, but she stopped him with a nod towards the decanter.

“I need something strong, and that looks delicious.”

As Ethan poured her a glass, he felt an odd sting of pride. His girl knew a good drink. His girl… Ethan chastised himself for using that word. He didn’t get to call her “his.”

They both took a sip and allowed the warmth to linger in their chest before speaking again, waiting for the liquid courage to set in.

Unsurprisingly, it was Charlie who made the first move towards the awkward discussion.

“I said one drink,” Charlie eyed her drink, “By the way that tastes, I’d assume we don’t have much time before that glass empty, so we better start talking.”

Ethan paused, considering all of the strategies he could take. His fear of losing her paralyzed him, but his fear of hurting her spurred him to scrutinize everything. He’d never been in this place before, and his frame of reference was limited. How did one act in such a situation?

“You didn’t tell me about the ethics investigation,” Ethan blurted out, amazed by how much it hurt him that she’d kept that from him.

“I tried, but you closed the door in my face,” Charlie asserted.

Fuck… Ethan grimaced as he remembered the day. Was that what she was trying to tell him when he’d been such a dick?

“Did you go to someone else?” Ethan didn’t recognize the jealousy in his tone.

“Excuse me?” Charlie flushed, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Did you go to Rafael when I didn’t talk to you?” Ethan persisted, horrified by her potential answer.

“You don’t get to ask a question like that, Ethan,” Charlie shook her head, obviously frustrated, “Don’t act like I haven’t given you far more opportunities than I’ve given Raf.”

“Oh, so you’re giving him opportunities?” Ethan couldn’t understand why he was so upset. He knew that she was right. If he hadn’t been bound by his morality, he could have had Charlie a long time ago, and she had no responsibility to stay loyal to a nonexistent relationship. She was free to do whatever – and whomever – she wanted, but the idea of it killed Ethan.

“Do not pull that bullshit,” Charlie took a large gulp of her scotch, begging it to fuel her, “When we almost had sex in Miami, who is the one who stopped it? It sure as hell wasn’t me.”

“I’m your boss! It’s not ethical!” Ethan retorted.

Charlie rolled her eyes, “Well, I’m already facing an ethics hearing, so clearly, I’m ethically substandard.”

Fuck. That’s not what he meant.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Ethan couldn’t fathom not making that point explicit.

Charlie diverted her gaze, biting on her lower lip as she raked her fingers through her falling ponytail. As her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, Ethan was caught off guard by how vulnerable she seemed. She was just as impassioned and upset as he was, if not more so. She walked away from him, pacing his living room floor and occasionally glancing over at him as if planning her defense.

“I know you didn’t mean that,” Charlie admitted with a deep sigh, “But I don’t know what I know about you. Today, I felt like I really knew you. Today was great,” Charlie closed her eyes as if trying to relive their carefree afternoon, “But then you try to pull away. You don’t let me in. You wouldn’t have brought me in on Naveen’s case if you didn’t trust me, but you never show it. How the fuck am I supposed to be your friend if you can’t tell me anything?”

“I brought you in on a case I failed at, Charlotte,” Ethan gulped at his drink as if the smooth scotch could dull the nagging failure that he carried every day. It was the first time he’d ever said her full first name, and Charlie’s eyes shot to his, amazed by how cold she felt at the title. She just wanted to be his Rookie again, “I told you why I left Edenbrook. I’m not the doctor we both thought I was,” Ethan’s voice cracked, and just like that, the anger dissipated from Charlie’s body as she was overwhelmed with a desire to fix this wonderful, broken man.

“Don’t say that,” Charlie stepped towards him instinctively.

“It’s true,” Ethan drained his scotch, returning the glass to the table as he fell into a nearby armchair, “I failed Naveen. I failed my patients. I’ll fail you soon, too.”

“It’s not true,” Charlie was by his side now, surprised by her own proximity to him, “That’s bullshit. You’re the doctor I thought you were and more. You saved thousands of patients, Ethan. They’re still living their lives because of you.”

“I couldn’t save Delores. I couldn’t save Naveen. I-I…” Ethan’s hand was reaching for the scotch bottle, but Charlie grabbed it before he could, taking his hand in hers.

“You didn’t save them, but you loved them,” Charlie stared deep into his eyes as if begging him to believe her, “You stayed up all night with baby Ethan, and he has a full life because someone loved him. You gave Delores and Naveen a choice, and when they picked their diagnosis over treatment, you respected it. That’s why you’re the best doctor I know. You never stop caring about your patients.”

Charlie paused, tears welling in her eyes as she added, “If I’d been more like you, I wouldn’t be in this mess… If I’d taken no for an answer, I wouldn’t have endangered Mrs. Martinez. She’d be alive, and I wouldn’t be facing a revoked medical license.”

Ethan’s heart broke at the pain in her speech, and before he could stop himself, he told her, “That was the stupidest, most unethical, kind thing you ever did, Rookie.”

Charlie looked up at him, something inside warm at the sound of her nickname.

“You’re a good doctor, Charlotte, and I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to help Mrs. Martinez in the way you did.”

Charlie nodded slowly, mulling over her words before saying, “You told me to examine my mistakes, learn from them, and let go. Instead, I lost one of my best friends and risked my entire career to make a point.” Charlie was laughing at herself, but her chuckle was laced in bitterness.

“You do enjoy the dramatics,” Ethan conceded, earning a playful glare from the woman next to him.

A peaceful lull formed in the storm of their fight, momentarily reminding them of what they were even fighting for in the first place. How did they make everything seem okay again, even when it clearly wasn’t?

“I didn’t know if I would ever be able to move on when you left,” Charlie admitted carefully, “For a cold son of a bitch, you sure as hell make people care about you.”

Ethan laughed his first genuine laugh of the whole night, and a smile perked at her lips despite everything.

“I tried very hard to make you stop caring about me, but you were always stubborn,” Ethan was still smiling to his own disbelief.

“You’re right,” Charlie nodded thoughtfully, “Inviting me to Miami, including me on a secret case, taking me for coffee, going to the opera… All of that definitely pushed me away.” She looked back at him, eyes glaring with amusement and something he could finally put a name to – affection.

Ethan laughed, amazed by how much he enjoyed when she made fun of him, “You forgot introducing you to my dog.”

“Please, Jenner is basically my dog now,” Charlie looked over at the puppy now watching them intently.

A comfortable lull formed in their conversation. It was amazing how easy it seemed to slip away. They both knew they hadn’t resolved everything, and more fights were waiting. But they couldn’t manage to break the comfort they felt in each other, not yet.

Finally, after a long time, Charlie spoke. She hesitated with her words, unsure that she even wanted to ask the question, but after a beat, she forced herself to ask, “Will you testify for me?”

Ethan looked surprised, and before he could answer, Charlie nervously jumped in, “You’re the one doctor I respect most in the world, and if you don’t want to testify for me because I failed you, I understand-“

“Charlie,” Ethan stopped her mid-sentence, and she gazed up at him with those big green eyes that momentarily distracted him, “I tried. Emery won’t let me because I’m too biased, and we both know she’s right.”

Charlie let out a defeated grimace, standing slowly and moving towards the window as she processed the rejection. Beneath her, Boston hummed with electricity and excitement. There was an entire world down there, oblivious to what was happening in Ethan’s apartment. They had no idea that Charlotte Greene’s life was falling apart…

Ethan retrieved both of their glasses, returning to the decanter to refill them, and he tentatively met her at the window, holding out the glass as a peace offering.

“To early retirement,” she smiled sadly, holding the glass in a toast, “Likely for both of us.”

Ethan clinked the glass with a sad nod, and the scotch settled into a familiar burn in their chest.

“You tried without me asking…” Charlie’s whisper surprised Ethan, and he couldn’t miss the small smile dancing on her lips.

“You’re just the latest person I tried to save and failed,” Ethan swallowed, his failure threatening to consume him.

Charlie shook her head, placing a hand on his cheek as she moved his face to look at her, “You never failed me, Ethan.”

She was so, so… close.

He could smell lingering notes of his body wash on her skin, an intoxicating combination of fresh air and freedom. He was close enough that he could watch her chest rise and fall with her breath. Her lips parted as she gazed up at him, her lips still shiny with scotch, and Ethan’s breath hitched as he realized she was… so beautiful… and so close…

Ethan was leaning closer, so close that Charlie felt the heat of his breath on her skin. Her senses were overwhelmed with him… Her grip on her glass loosened, sliding out her hand and splintering into tiny pieces on the hardwood floor, but the sensation was distant.

And then he was against her, their proximity so close that she only had to lean the tiniest bit to brush her lips across his. They were soft and warm and…

And they collided. Months of longing were poured into his touch as his tender, bruising kiss consumed her. He tasted like scotch and coffee and Ethan, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer. He could feel her hammering heart against his chest. His hands were on her, his fingertips digging into her hips as he tugged her as close as he could possibly have her. Any space was too much. He’d never needed anyone like he needed Charlotte Greene at this moment.

Ethan effortlessly lifted Charlie, guiding her to wrap her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the window. The cool glass contrasted the heat between the two of them, and her lips left his to giggle at his eagerness before she was lost in him once more.

His hands were everywhere, her waist, her hips, her ass, her thighs, her chest… It was as if he felt the need to explore and claim every inch of her body, to treasure it with his appreciative touch.

“Ethan,” Charlie moaned softly, her hands leaving his hair to pull at his sweater. Ethan pulled away just long enough for her to take it off, not caring where the garment fell when she threw it over his shoulder, “Mmm, that’s better.”

Ethan’s hands were already on her waist, the fabric of her t-shirt wrinkling beneath his touch. His shirt. Ethan felt a swell of pride as he remembered how sexy it was when she confidently walked out in his t-shirt this morning, and he remained convinced that it was the hottest thing she’d ever worn. The grey cotton began to ride up her body as he moved his hands up her torso, and he victoriously pulled it over her head and threw it on the ground beneath him. Her exposed skin was so warm against his hands, and the lace of her black bra tickled his skin as she pressed herself even closer to him.

Ethan moved back from the window, still holding onto her tight as he led her back to his living room, and he softly placed her on his couch. Slowly untangling her legs from his waist, her fingers fumbled for his belt, and he laughed softly at her attempts to quickly remove it.

Biting on her lower lip, Ethan pulled away from her kiss, enjoying the sweet sound of her moan, and as he gazed down at her, it was undoubtedly the best sight he’d ever seen. His Rookie was desperate for his touch, desperate for him.

His Rookie…

Ethan’s breath stopped as he suddenly remembered why he hadn’t seen this sight since Miami, why he’d left her then… and why he had to leave her now.

Charlotte saw the change in his eyes, and her stomach lurked as panic settled in.

“Ethan…” she whispered, her hands on his cheek as she started to sit up to look at him better. No, no, he couldn’t… Not again, she thought to herself.

“Charlie,” Ethan’s voice was ragged and full of disappointment, and it was a sucker punch to Charlotte, “I can’t…”

Charlie’s eyes closed in a grimace as she fell back to the couch, covering her head with her arm as the sting of rejection replaced the carefree joy she’d felt only moments again. Even now, miles from Edenbrook, he still didn’t want her… Tears prickled at her eyes, but Charlotte willed them away.

Ethan’s hand hovered over her hair, desperately wanting to comfort her, but instead, he removed his touch and stepped away, knowing it would only do more harm than good. He left the couch, returning to his glass of scotch and downing it as he waited with bated breath for her reaction. She was still quiet, collecting all of her thoughts as her emotion wreaked havoc.

What’s wrong with me? Charlie’s thoughts were unstoppable, cutting through every attempt to silence them as they taunted her with rejection and humiliation. Hadn’t she learned to stop hoping for Dr. Ramsey?

Before she knew what she was doing, Charlie grabbed the pillow from behind her head and hurled it at Ethan. The pillow stunned him but bounced off easily, leaving him stunned and confused.

“Fuck you, Ethan Ramsey!” Charlie was up now, looking for her shirt so that she could stop feeling so exposed and vulnerable, but when she saw it on the floor, she was reminded that it was his shirt, not hers. Fuck.

“Excuse me?” Ethan asked incredulously.

“You heard me. Fuck you,” Charlie repeated, the words flowing off her tongue with such ease that Ethan almost forgot that he was the one being cursed.

“Charlie, we can’t,” Ethan began, but Charlie stopped him before he could deliver the same speech.

“Don’t you dare,” Charlie shook her head, the tears trying to return, and she had lost her strength to will them away, “Don’t you dare tell me that you can’t betray your moral code and have sex with your intern. You can’t do this, Ethan. You can’t pull me close just so you can push me away.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Ethan was offended at the accusation, “I’m putting you first. I’m putting your career first, Charlotte.”

“No, you’re not! That’s what you’re telling yourself, but that’s not what’s happening!” Charlie jabbed a finger at his still bare chest, “You’re afraid of intimacy, so you’re searching for every possible excuse to keep me at arm’s length. You can’t have it both ways, Ethan,” Charlie paused when she heard her voice crack, trying desperately to sum up the strength to continue her speech, and the sight made Ethan shrink. He’d never seen her so hurt, and he knew he was the cause. “Did you just try to get me naked because you heard I had sex with Bryce? Is it some stupid test to prove your masculinity?”

“No, of course not,” Ethan breathed, desperate to make her believe him, and he instinctively placed his hands on her waist as she wiped at her tears, “You’re more than some toy, Charlie.”

“I know,” Charlie pulled out of his grasp, “You can’t just play with me when you’re bored and drop me when you want to. That’s not fair.”

“I’ve never meant to do that,” Ethan had never been so intent on making someone believe him. She had to know the truth. She had to know that she was more than that, that she was more than everything to him.

“Don’t do this, Ethan. Don’t make it too hard to be around you. Don’t you dare push me away,” Charlie wiped at the tear sliding down her cheek, betrayed by her own emotional response, “You’re not my boss any more. The only thing keeping you away from me is you right now. At least be honest with that.”

I’m not her boss anymore…. The words played over and over again in Ethan’s head, forming a soundtrack to his epiphany. She was right. She was always right.

“Rookie…” Ethan’s whisper was soft and intimate, and even when she was so angry with him, it made her heart skip a beat. He stepped forward, his hands cupping her cheek as he leaned his forehead to hers, meeting her eyes as she felt the comforting warmth of his breath on her skin, “You’re… you’re everything to me.”

Charlie’s lips parted in a surprised gasp, staring up at him as if trying to prove to herself that she’d actually heard him correctly.

And he almost said it… three little words he’d never said before. But instead, he kissed her.

Their tender, bruising kiss held the emotions of months and months of waiting and pain and rejection, and they lost themselves in each other’s touch.

Ethan was the one to slide her out of her skinny jeans, slowly but surely stripping her down as his hands explored her skin. Once she was down to her underwear and bra, Ethan pulled her back to him, their bodies so close that they practically breathed as one. Her legs wrapped around his waist, tugging on his hair as he carried her back to her bedroom. Close wasn’t close enough for either of them, and Ethan laughed softly into her lips as Charlotte practically squirmed to get as close as possible.

Charlie pulled on his lower lip, whispering, “Let me down…”

Ethan begrudgingly unwrapped her legs from his body, gently putting her down on the floor without daring to break their kiss.

He felt her smirk against his lips as she unzipped his pants, pushing them off and toying with the waistband of his boxers. Ethan’s muscles froze as he felt her hand so, so close… She loved watching the effect she had on him as she tantalizingly slowly took off his boxers, brushing her fingertips along his hardening member before wrapping her hand around him and gently stroking.

“Charlie…” Ethan’s voice was breathless, making Charlie smile in pride.

“Yes?” Charlie raised an eyebrow, licking her lips as if offering an invitation.

Ethan’s hands tangled in her hair, moving her to look directly at him as he earnestly asked, “Are you sure?”

Charlie’s smile warmed his skin as she nodded, “Yes. 100% sure.”

Their lips collided again as Ethan pulled her back to his bed. Once the back of her knees met his mattress, he pushed her softly, and Charlie fell back on the bed, eyes heavy with lust as she looked back up at him, waiting to have him close again.

To her surprise, Ethan didn’t climb on the bed with her, and she pouted as he leaned close, whispering, “Not yet…”

“I’ve been trying to have sex with you for months. Why not yet?” Charlie’s whine was sincere and made Ethan chuckle.

“Patience is a virtue, Dr. Greene, and I want to remember every single moment of this…” Ethan’s lips grazed her collarbone, his hands lifting her just enough to unclasp her black bra. Charlie shrugged out of it, goosebumps forming on her skin as the cold air washed over her. Ethan’s tender, wet kiss moved across her collarbones, pausing on her neck to find just the spot that made Charlie squirm before moving down her chest.

His appraising eye marveled at her body as his hands, which began at her hips, roamed her curves until they reached her breasts. Cupping her breast in one hand, he tenderly massaged her as his tongue caressed the other, teasing until his mouth captured her nipple. Her body bucked in response, and he could feel his own body respond to that perfect, perfect moan…

“Ethan…” Charlie was growing impatient as her desperation to feel him heightened.

But once more, he whispered, “Patience…”

His mouth began to move lower, appreciating each inch of skin as he navigated her torso. She giggled at the tickle of his stubble, her hands tangling in her hand as she told him, “Your stubble tickles.”

With a rueful smile, Ethan brushed along his chin and responded, “I should shave.”

Charlie’s eyes playfully narrowed as she insisted, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Ethan didn’t bother to contain his laughter before returning to her body, spreading her thighs as he approached the apex. He lavished his attention on her inner thighs, kissing and nibbling as the woman beneath him writhed in delight.

“Please…” her whisper was hoarse with desire, and finally, Ethan relented.

With his thumbs hooked on either side of her panties, Ethan’s kiss diverted from her thigh, just gently meeting the lace of her underwear. His kiss was long and wet and lazy, and Charlie melted into his mouth. Taking his sweet time, Ethan stripped her off her underwear and placed a long, purposeful lick along her folds. His tongue circled her nub as he appreciated her sweet taste. Charlie’s hips moved with his mouth, her fingers tugging on his hair as she wordlessly begged for friction and pressure. Ethan delivered, his adept finger sliding inside of her, and he watched as she fell apart when his finger curled.

Charlotte moaned her delight, her eyes fluttering closed as she rose to her peak. He could feel it in her body before she said a word – the pink flush to her skin, the friction of her body writhing beneath his tongue, the desperation in her bated breath, the way her muscles tensed around him… Her breath hitched as she approached her climax, and Ethan watches her, catching her gaze as she lost control.

“E-Ethan,” she pleads as she feels it coming, her breath hitching right before…. “Fuck!”

Charlotte shuttered as her orgasm lit her body on fire, each nerve ending consumed in the blissful heat. She hummed as her pleasure settled in her, a lazy smile spreading as she whispered, “Ethan. Fucking. Ramsey…” she bit on her lower lip, his name now forever a chant of indulgence.

“Jonah, actually,” Ethan smirked, moving up to look at her, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion, “My name is Ethan Jonah Ramsey, though I suppose ‘Fucking’ works as well.”

And right then, Charlotte’s laughter is music to his ears, and as she looks up at him, she almost said it… Three words she’s never meant like she meant them now.

But instead, his lips were on hers, full of heat and promise, and she was lost in it – in him.

Their fingers intertwined as Ethan moved over her, effortlessly moving her farther onto the bed as he knelt between her legs.

The sight beneath him took Ethan’s breath away. His beautiful, wonderful Charlotte looked up at him like no one else ever had. She waited with obvious desperation for him for him. She was here for him. She wanted him.

His length ran along her wet slit, probing as he looked at her with a silent question, and she nodded her agreement without an ounce of hesitation. His smile was broad and beautiful as he kissed along her skin, teasing her relentlessly and bringing her so, so close before finally…

“Fuck!” Charlie gasps as, after months of pining and waiting, they finally connected. Ethan sank deeper into her, overwhelmed by how intimately close they felt. Her fingertips brushed along his cheek, smiling softly as she met his lips in a deep, bruising kiss.

Ethan’s pace was slow and careful, each thrust timed to make Charlie think she couldn’t wait any longer and then fall apart the second he delivered her cravings. Her nails dug into his broad shoulders, not caring about any potential marks as her nails dragged along his skin while his pace quickened with desperation.

The pleasure mounted in Charlie’s hips as he delivered each deep, toe-curling thrust. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue fighting for dominance over hers as her body flushed with delight.

“Ethan, I’m so cl…” Charlie didn’t need to articulate further as she lost her breath, overwhelmed with his touch. He carefully adjusted his grip on her thighs, his thumbs leaving bruises along her skin, and he used the new leverage to drive deeper and deeper into him. His lips were selfish as he every inch of her body, needing to taste her, to feel her and know that she was his.

Charlie’s skin burned with desire, unable to hold on as she dissolved into her climax. She’s so, so close – she’s – she’s – fuck. Charlie fell apart beneath Ethan, her orgasm taking over her body.

Ethan watched through hooded eyes, feeling her tighten around him, and it was too much. “Charlie,” he moaned her name as if it were sacred praise, each thrust harder and more desperate than before. At the summit, he lost control, his body sated in the warm ecstasy of his orgasm. His forehead fell to her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, they just stayed like that, enjoying their bliss, enjoying each other…

Finally, Ethan moved out of Charlotte, pulling him beside her, and without a word, Charlotte tangled herself around him, tucking her head in his chest as she listened to the thump of his heartbeat.

“We just had sex…” Charlie murmured, sounding astounded.

“We did,” Ethan confirmed, twirling her hair around his finger as he appraised the beautiful woman in his arms. How the hell did this happen?

“Oh my God,” Charlotte let out a single chuckle, looking as if she couldn’t believe it either, and he found himself smiling.

Tilting her head up to look at him, Ethan said, “Stay the night.”

Charlotte wasn’t sure if his invitation was a command or a question, but she couldn’t dream of leaving his bed either way.

“Only if you finally give me an embarrassing tee shirt to wear tomorrow,” Charlotte’s eyes were full of amusement as she teased him, and he couldn't resist the urge to kiss the tip of her nose.

“I may have a secret Turkey Trot t-shirt in the back of my closet,” Ethan finally confessed, but his embarrassment was soon forgotten as he watched Charlie’s face light up with excitement.

“I fucking knew it,” Charlie kissed him in victory, her arms looped around his neck. The kiss was long and lazy, and when they pulled away, Ethan could see the sleep in Charlie’s eyes. Safely tucking her in his arms, he kissed the top of her head.  

He was just about to fall asleep when a small whisper lured him away from slumber.

“Please don’t leave me…” there was fear in Charlie’s voice as if she was waiting for him to run away at any moment, and the sound broke Ethan’s heart.

“I won’t,” he whispered, “I promise.”

This was so long, and I’m so sorry. I really wanted to tackle that Charlie is scared of Ethan’s instinct to run away, and that isn’t going away any time soon. I hope you’ll tune in for part four! If you would like to be tagged (or stop being tagged), just let me know!

Tag list: @honeyandsunfl0wers @wangdeasang @hopelessromantic1352 @jens-diamondchoices @sheismental @ughhhxjazzy @desmaranj @claudevonstruke @octobereighth @timmagicktoad @flyawayboo @elixabexh @togetherwearerapture @perriewinklenerdie @nobounderiesplease @simsvetements @too-spooky-bunny @caroldxnvxrs @itsfabrayic @drethanramsey @drrameyfanpage @paisleylovergirl @msjpuddleduck @padfoot0415 @barricades-of-freedom

[afvisende]

Ango is sent on a precarious mission to infiltrate and gather information on the Order of the Clock Tower. Agatha, isn't fooled, but welcomes the man into her organization, slowly warping his mind down the sinister path of perfidy.

Don't flame me for this, I’m just a sad excuse of a person who creates nonexistent pairings. I always fancied the idea of Agatha and Ango, but did nothing about it. This story nailed my coffin, I'm deep in rare pair hell. I also miss HawMitch, but these two are my newest obsession.

It'd been a few years since the infiltration and he's acclimated to nearly everything except one thing. Whenever Agatha's near; how she spoke, her mannerisms, something about it made him nervous. Why was she so eloquently persuasive? He detested how she treated him like a guest from the start. The agent worried if she had any ideas of his true purpose of joining the Order of the Clock Tower. He worked tirelessly as her hound so she wouldn't suspect him. After another toilsome day, she promised him an exquisite meal at her side; an honor rarely given to any of her subordinates. Nerves began to run rampant. Would his tea or food be laced with poison? He wouldn't be able to elude it if he was in her presence.

He really was a fool, wasn't he? Ango's unsure why after his bath he opted to wear his best suit for this occasion. "It's only dinner…" He repeated to himself. There's a subtle knock at the door and he turned to answer. "You may enter. Is this about the invitation with the Knight Commander?" No, it wasn't someone else rather it was the commander herself. Hands lifted her long skirt as she took elegant steps towards him. Watching her alone left him frozen in place. What were her intentions? "Dame Agatha…" Before he could finish her gloved hands reached for his tie undoing it completely. Sakaguchi couldn't stifle his embarrassment; a faint tinge of pink spreading across his pallid cheeks. "What're you--?" Her hands worked adeptly to tie his tie more effectively.

"Learn to tie your ties better. I do so loathe a sloppy appearance. You're fortunate to be skilled in other areas." There's a quirk of her glossed lips into a full smirk and it's unsettling. Most unsettling was her proximity to him. She was so hazardously close; that the scent of her luxurious perfume drowned out the rest of his senses. This wasn't the first time she invaded his personal space, nor the first time she's been so intimate with him. Ango never knew what to make of these gestures, they left him both abashed and flustered. Was it part of a ploy? This was a highly dangerous and intelligent woman, it was safe to say he didn't trust her. Yet, in the deepest and darkest corner of his conflicted heart… for some sick and twisted reason he wanted to. He wanted to believe there's a degree of genuineness in Agatha's actions.

"Thank you. I'll be sure to be more careful next time…" He's uncertain of what else to say as he stared off to the side in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

Nonchalantly, Agatha played with his collar, before hooking two fingers at his tie; pulling him down to her level, so that his gaze wouldn't shyly avert. "Turning away, Mr. Sakaguchi? How unbefitting of you. No one turns away from me as we're speaking." Her grip at his tie tightened and she applied an unusual force. That degree of assertion fascinated him, but added to his inner tension. "Something's discomfiting you, isn't it? Why don't you speak your mind? We're associates, are we not? You can trust me." Her intonation was smooth and spoken in a low hiss; this lady truly was a serpent; one that tempted him down a darker path.

Lies. Due to the nature of his profession involving subterfuge, he knew little else, but to lie. "There are some things a subordinate shouldn't tell his superior… I hope you can respect that."

How cute. Trying to play the personal card was a poor choice. She's not easily deceived, not when she can read him like an open book. Agatha knew more than she let on and that power she held over him made her revel. "So… you're keeping secrets from me. Do you know what punishment that'd entail?" He's heard from the others that punitive measures were harsh, it suited the callous mind that orchestrated Mimic's downfall from the shadows. There's no punishment he wouldn't endure for this operation or for the Japanese Ministry that he ceaselessly served… He couldn't conceal a sense of dread that washed over him as her blue eyes pierced icy daggers into his warmer pools.

"I'm not hiding anything." He swallowed the lump in his throat and that look of trepidation made her sneer. His fear, misgivings, and silly antics were all quite risible had she not found them utterly pathetic. Somehow, this was the most brilliant man that led numerous daunting operations for the Ministry without fail. She knew he was a perfectionist that lamented any minor errors he made along the way. He utilized these mistakes as opportunities to improve himself, but lacked refinement. He was the ideal puppet, or rather, she'd mold him into the perfect one to suit her goals instead. He was a paradigm of diligence and intellect, but he could be so much more under her guidance.

"I highly doubt that. There's much to discuss, but not here…" Her enunciation was rather suggestive. With a tug, she whispered near the shell of his ear. "Dinner awaits us, lest you've forgotten."

"I haven't… I simply was surprised you came for me yourself." As she released him and pulled away, he began to miss the closeness. Would it be out of line to reach for her hand?

The poised woman turned to look at him inquisitively. "If you wish to take my hand, you may." Gloved digits outstretched for him to take and he was reluctant to do so, but managed to. "Tighten your grasp and lead with confidence."

These were crystal clear instructions he endeavored to follow. At the elaborate dinner table, he pulled her seat with his opposite hand and gently allowed her to settle into her seat. Before he could retreat to his own, she called for him. "Protocol, dear Ango. You were remiss not to upon my entrance." This was standard for him, but it didn't change how bashful he was to do it. He wondered if she purposely instated it to rile him up. The man was nigh unflappable, she must've relished watching him lose his composure. He'd been bombarded by a farrago of emotions he was not accustomed to and it bothered him.

"Must I do it myself?" Calmly stated, but no less scathing. From her seat she rose, heels clicking towards him and her lips carefully were planted on one cheek first and then the other. "Is that too difficult for you?"

"It's not." Entire years of mind games and he's at a boiling point, he's unsure what to call this bizarre dynamic of theirs. He dared to wrap his arms carefully around her, his lips ghosting over her own, but gloved digits came between them.

"Patience, darling. That'll come later." How needy could he be? Inciting that desperation in him amused her greatly. Tantalizing him to the apex only to drag him back down was undoubtedly thrilling.

He frowned and she despised how that attractive mole on the upper left corner of his lip drooped slightly with the shift in expression. She'd keep her end of the bargain, but when it was opportune.

Dinner went smoother than expected. In fact, so smoothly, that after any qualms he had of the comestibles being envenomed; he began to have suspicions. She told him to wait for her at his quarters as the night progressed. He was prepared. His gun was cautiously concealed. He had to. No, he needed to. Someone like her was too menacing, too cunning, too cruel… and too lovely. That wasn't right. He shouldn't have harbored these thoughts, much less these frustrating feelings. She'd done nothing but welcome him fondly to her organization; treating him as one of her own from the start. He felt valued, desired, he was rewarded for his exploits. Not to mention, he was allowed reasonable time for himself to rest, before setting off on parlous undertakings. As demanding as she was, Agatha wasn't entirely unreasonable; fairly allowing her subordinates leisure. Gladly they'd lay their lives down for her as meager pawns in her game and that frightened him. Her strength, her wit, her suasion, and leadership; all of it was too potent.

The long awaited moment… Those distinct steps, he knew they were hers and she finally entered. As she approached him, he immediately cocked his gun, pointing it directly at her. There's not a hint of anger, sadness, fear, or shock to her lineaments. Her eyes were as cold and calculating as ever and it stung him deeper than it should've. "Don't get any closer."

As if she'd listen to a lowly underling of the incompetent Japanese Ministry. Truly, they were undeserving of a man of his prowess and devotion. Devotion better used in her service, she silently ruminated. Yet, her gaze was unyielding and condescended upon him as she dared to move a heel forward in his direction. "You haven't the gumption to pull that trigger." Analytical to a fault, she pointed out the conspicuous look of consternation on his face instead. "You look surprised. Why is that? I had always known of your treacherous nature. Is betrayal all that you know?" A soft laugh followed. "There is not a thing I didn't already know about you, Ango Sakaguchi."

He felt the sweat trickle down his forehead, but his hand remained firm on the firearm. Why couldn't he bring himself to fire? "You! You knew and yet you let me in?!"

Agatha smiled wickedly. She continued to defy him, closing the gap between them. "I wanted to personally see what one of the most esteemed agents of the Japanese Ministry was like. You exceeded my expectations."

"Don't test or try me. This is your last warning..." He pressed the gun to the side of her head, but she retained her equanimity. "That means all of this was fabricated… All your words, everything… none of it was genuine."

"Oh? Was it? I'm not so sure about that." In a flash, he's uncertain how she managed to press the barrel of a pistol at his jaw. "You see, I thought a battle of wits betwixt us would be more entertaining. Countless times, I could've had you slain to your lack of notice."

He's horrified to relive the constant pain that resulted from Oda's demise. Working for the Ministry meant following orders and going with plans that didn't align with his personal morals. He hated it, hated himself, and he scarcely stammered his response out. "Then why didn't you?"

"You divert me. I've seen qualities that others overlooked, as well. The organization you're most loyal to doesn't deserve you." It's paralyzing how she coquettishly leaned in while still keeping that pistol harshly pressed to his jaw. "You belong with me in the Order of the Clock Tower and I will not take no for answer." Truthfully, should he reject her proposition, she wouldn't hesitate to shoot him where he stood. Refusal wasn't an option, it never was.

"Against better judgment, I believed in you. I liked working for and with you, but I am only loyal to--"

"To whom? Your friends? We know how well that ended. Don't toy with me. You only value lives, but you cannot safeguard any with the way you are now or whilst working for that lackluster organization. You have to accept that the road to protecting what's dear requires loss. Sacrifices are necessary, you know this better than anyone. Yet, you still reject it. It's what makes you so weak."

This was a losing battle, all along, these efforts were in vain. He no longer had the will to persist, his gun slipped out of his fingers. There was nothing left for him to say, perhaps, this was the fate he deserved.

"Ango… I will not ask again. Will you betray the Japanese Ministry and join me or choose death?" She spoke his name so softly, but the rest of her words were caustic. Despite all the years that elapsed, Christie remained an enigma to him. He wanted to know her for all that she was in greater depth. He swallowed any pride he had left. To abandon his own people and the organization he offered his life for… He'd accept her offer. Had he not grown weary of mistreatment? Change was daunting, but without it there'd be no growth. She was right, no matter his attempts, innocents still died. He took no pleasure in it. The greater good was but an illusion. As she implied previously, there's an ashen perspective, one where malice and benevolence commingled. Embracing a new life and organization... It couldn't be so bad, even if it was a lifestyle that'd taint his hands in additional blood. Of that, there was no true escape.

"I'd be honored to remain at your side. I cast away my former ties. I will tell you all that I know." Slender digits brushed against her cheek affectionately and she smiled triumphantly.

"A wise choice that suits a man of your caliber. There's little I don't know, but I'd be glad to hear it during a private conference."

Undeniably, there's a mutual attraction that fostered throughout the years. It felt forbidden and risky… He was unsure if she felt the same connection.

Agatha tossed aside her pistol using that same hand to remove one of her gloves. It fell to the floor. Her thumb gently brushed over that exquisite mole of his. Ango was truly beautiful, so delicate, it tempted her to watch him crumble beneath her touch. He leaned into it fondly, his own hand settling atop hers.

"Do you recall what I said earlier?" Another stroke to that endearing mole.

"I'm uncertain which you mean?" Brows rose curiously over his glasses.

Wordlessly, her lips were upon his in a fiery kiss that she gradually deepened. He's astonished by how sudden it was and inadvertently moaned into her mouth. Agatha simpered smugly, indulging his distinct taste for all its worth. An experimental and hungry tongue met her own. His hands gripped her hips to restrain himself from the urge of bringing her body closer to his. Ango was so terribly starved, it's unfair how she exploited it. Her own slippery muscle flattened his completely with dominant strokes to later run the tip along his teeth. Helplessly, he moaned again, his inability to stop causing his cheeks to flush. As she retracted, her teeth viciously sank onto his bottom lip; tugging the flesh in admonishment.

"Your vulnerability is so appealing to me, but do not forget your place. We'll have other opportunities, my dear." Ever cordial, she placed a gentler kiss to his mole, and a lighter one to the lip she previously abused.

Ango's perplexed, entranced, and if he didn't know better, he could've sworn she somehow wormed her way in and stole his heart. "Please… I… One more. Just one more."

He certainly knew how to beg, but she's sadistic at heart. "One more what? Tell me how badly you yearn it. Plead for me."

Sakaguchi begged for reasonable things in the past, but never something like this. "I want another kiss, badly. I had thought of it many times, but knew it was not in my place. Please, allow me another." His fingers left her hips and threaded into her golden locks as his eyes glimmered with want.

"Now that's a good lad. Come take your reward." She wouldn't kiss him, she wondered if he possessed the courage to kiss her himself. Even in this situation she still toyed with his mind. "What are you waiting for when I'm right in front of you?" The blonde goaded, going as far as to press her body against his. His hands left her hair as arms encompassed her waist holding her form tightly to his own.

His osculate lacked the finesse of hers, it's messy, but ravenous. His tongue swirled, sampled, and he sucked as much as he could of Agatha's flavor. Her lips were so soft, smooth, and delectable… Not once did she relinquish control during the exchange, however. Her own appendage lashed back offensively and ran torturously slow along the underside of his. He seemed so lost in the moment, she couldn't help but tease him. A lustful sigh purposely left her to fill his mouth which caused his whole face to grow crimson. As the kiss was broken, she shamelessly licked away the remnants of saliva upon his lips as he panted softly.

"That was inappropriate… Allow me to apologize… Surely… There's something I should've told you..." He's at a loss of words, in spite of his attempts to regain his aplomb, appearing somewhat stern. It's naught but a poorly crafted veneer and Agatha saw through it.

"Save it, Sakaguchi. I already know what you're thinking and about to say. I always knew you fancied me and I honestly can't blame you."

To think even her hauteur was dignified, he's enchanted by it. "I don't know what all of this means…"

"It can mean whatever you wish it. I'll be expecting you in my office tomorrow morning. Don't be late, I do so value promptness. There's a lot of work waiting for you." The commander managed to ease out of his possessive hold, before turning to exit his room. Was she teasing him again? With Agatha it was difficult to tell more often than not.

"Understood. I can assure that I'll arrive without delay." He emitted a long breath of relief, but once she's at the door she left him with one more thought.

Christie had higher expectations of him now. "Eager to please me, aren't you? Let's see if you'll keep providing satisfactory results." Her vague wording intended to stimulate him, she definitely knew how to play dirty. Certainly, she meant satisfaction with his performance as her most indispensable agent.

With her gone and the door shut, he collapsed onto his bed. His palm moved over to his mouth where he could still taste her. He's amazed by what transpired. He didn't fully comprehend the ramifications of the decisions he made today. What sort of life awaited him in this foreign nation? Most importantly what did this mean for him and Agatha? It was a future clouded in obscurity, but he couldn't deny it. The Englishwoman robbed him of his heart and if she were the one to crush it, he wouldn't feel the least bit rueful.

[schraubd]

NYTimes Endorses Warren and Klobuchar

The New York Times has officially endorsed not one, but two candidates in the 2020 Democratic primary: Senators Elizabeth Warren (MA) and Amy Klobuchar (MN). In essence, the Times' picked one candidate from the "moderate" lane and one candidate from the "progressive" lane, while suggesting that either one can and should be acceptable to any decent person seeking to defeat Trump. The internet reaction, at least in my quarters of it, has been mostly disdainful. The NYT should have had the gumption to make an actual choice. Choosing two people was a cop out. Dismiss dismiss dismiss. Most of this reaction has stemmed from more left-ward elements. And to be fair, on net the double-endorsement probably helps Klobuchar, who has struggled to gain traction, more than Warren. So it maybe isn't surprising that the left isn't wild about this choice, insofar as it probably does more to help an "establishment" candidate they dislike over a more progressive candidate they (well, some of "they") like or are at least fine with. But I think there's another element in play here. Recent events notwithstanding, there remains some efforts on the left-side of the party to build a unified front along the axis of either Warren or Sanders, as against the "establishment" wing represented by Biden or Klobuchar. Key to their efforts is a strong distinction between these two wings, such that it is important to maintain progressive unity so we don't hand the nomination to a moderate because the left can't stop fighting amongst itself. This view is very much adverse to the sentiment, communicated by the Times, that all the Democrats (Klobuchar, Biden, Warren, Sanders ...) are fundamentally on the same side, so that we should all be content no matter which of them is picked. This aspect of the editorial is probably what got the most sustained mocking, at least in my feed. It also is, as you probably know, a view I basically endorse, which is why the Times' double-endorsement didn't bother me all that much. I'm inclined to think that Warren is the best of the "progressive" wing, and Klobuchar probably the best of the "moderate" wing. There's a case to be made for nominating a progressive wing candidate, and a case for a moderate wing candidate, but if the nomination goes in the direction I disprefer I wouldn't view at as a betrayal. Either way, we'd still be getting a candidate who is more-or-less on my side. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/2RLocav

[fanficnewbie]

“Fighting for Forever” - Chapter Three: Open Heart FanFic

This is my first story/series. The first 5 chapters are adaptations from the first 4 parts of “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey” series with permission from @alwaysmychoices and then I continue my own original work in chapters 6-14.

I start this adapted storyline during Chapter 15 of the original OH series. There is a bit of AU, where I play around with the storyline a bit and insert two days between MC leaving the country club and returning to her apartment to find Landry packing. Some situations have been changed to keep with the original vision of @alwaysmychoices and make the story work in the direction I wanted it to go. However, I find my way back to the original in Chapters 6-8 and then move on past the ending of Book One during chapters 9-14.

My MC is female, Francesca Houseman, who has only had eyes for Ethan Ramsey from day one.

FULL SERIES

Chapter Three: “In the Still of the Night” Part 1 (adapted from “Unspoken”)

2630 words

This entry continues after Ramsey and MC leave Naveen’s and are faced with the reality of their relationship on the drive back to Boston.

(M - Language)

When Francesca looked at Dr. Ramsey, she saw a kaleidoscope of a man. Every angle was a new side of him that she’d never seen before. Sometimes, she felt like she could reach out and connect with the shimmering smile in front of her, but there was always a wall separating her from the mirage. He was so close, but he was still so far away…

Tonight, under the soft moonlight, Ethan didn’t look like the confident doctor she’d met at Edenbrook. Concern etched itself into his handsome features, and a lingering air of defeat and disappointment followed him like a dark shadow. From the passenger side, she could see the knot between his eyebrows, an expression she remembered as his sign of deep concentration. He was thinking hard about something, but Francesca had no idea what.

As much as she admired and adored the man beside her, she couldn’t pretend to fully understand him. She knew him more than most, but there were still so many undiscovered layers, so many secrets he kept from her. She wondered if she would ever know all of Ethan. Would he ever let her that close?

“You’re staring,” Ethan cut his eyes to Francesca, unable to contain the urge to look at her. The doctor inside of him chastised such behavior. He’d seen many patients come through his hospital from auto injuries, most easily preventable but prompted by reckless actions such as not staying focused on the road.

But he was retired now, wasn’t he? The doctor inside of him lacked credence over his human desires. And his chief desire was to be close to Dr. Houseman, even if she seemed a million miles away tonight.

“Sorry,” Francesca mumbled, interrupting his internal dialogue, “Just looking in your general direction.” Francesca’s voice trailed off as if she turned away, pulled back by the tide of her own thoughts.

Was she thinking about Rafael? “A very close friend.” What did that mean exactly? He imagined Rafael Aveiro looking at her, Ethan was chagrined to admit that unlike his, Aveiro’s eyes would never be guarded. They’d unabashedly admire the beautiful intern, no inhibitions to protect like Ramsey. But Ethan wondered if Rafael’s gaze could match the same intensity of his own. Did Rafael love her too? Ethan didn’t have to hypothesize. He’d be a fool not to. If she could make a man as cynical as Ethan form an attachment, what could she do with a man like Rafael?  

Something was stirring inside of Ethan’s chest. Jealousy burned at his skin, every nerve ending overcome with the unfamiliar emotion. His mind was consumed with unwelcome images of the two of them together, of a potential part of Francesca’s life that he knew nothing about - that he hoped he was only imagining. 

It was his own fault. There was so much more to this enigmatic woman than what he’d allowed himself to know. He’d caught glimpses of her fiery determination and self-destructive sense of duty to her patients as well as her lack of self-protective instincts, all of which challenged her career in the upcoming ethics hearing. All of which made him fall so deeply for her. 

He remembered his own first year of residency. Back then, he was overcome with his own ego, but even in his ambitious drive, did he have her reckless bravery? There was a swell of satisfaction as he thought about all Francesca had done. As Dr. Ramsey, he was severely disappointed in her irresponsible behavior; but as Ethan, he was proud as hell.

Ethan glanced at her again, so deeply concentrated. Desperately, he wanted to know what was happening in that mind of hers. More than ever, he wanted to be the man that knew her, the one that cared for her. But he couldn’t ask for that. She had already offered to let him into her world, and for many reasons, some real and some imagined, he had held himself back. 

How did they even get here? Their relationship began with his disdain and disinterest. He remembered telling Naveen about their first encounter in the waiting room. He’d given Francesca a scathing review of how she handled the situation. Though he was impressed by her gumption and assistance, she was flawed. She had yet to perfect her technique and lacked the experience to trust her intuition. She had potential, of course, but she was merely an unformed piece of clay, another amateur intern. He doubted she would become the protégé he had hoped for. 

Ethan remembered the look in Naveen’s eyes when he first spoke of her – it was the same look Naveen gave them tonight. Banjeri was a shrewd diagnostician and clearly could diagnose Ethan long before Ethan could recognize the change in himself. Was there ever a time before that he had even bothered to mention the performance of an intern? Had he been overcompensating since his very first day with her?

Over time, Ethan eventually accepted that he did admire Francesca. Her potential increased exponentially in a short period of time and he knew he had made the right prediction after all. He gradually became accustomed to the idea of mentoring the young student. He watched her thrive through the diagnostic competition, working hard to reach the top spot, and Ethan was free to admit he respected her work.

So, when had it become personal? When did the professional relationship seep into his personal life? Or had the lines always been blurry? Had his heart been involved the entire time?

Undoubtedly, Ramsey began to exhibit favoritism and, to Harper’s appreciation, he acknowledged it. Over time, he accepted different aspects of their unorthodox professional partnership. Francesca Houseman was more than an intern, she was his favorite intern. She was more than a coworker, she was his favorite coworker. She was more than a friend, she was…

It was this final diagnosis that Ethan couldn’t make. What was Francesca? And was he ready for all that followed if he allowed himself to admit the truth?

“What are you thinking about?” Tired of his own thoughts, he finally raised the questions to hers.

“A lot of things,” Francesca was intentionally vague. Ethan nodded, disappointed by her evasion. 

Silence consumed the car, he tried again.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Dr. Olsen?”

Francesca gasped. Somehow, she hadn’t thought of his betrayal once during their adventure with Naveen. Last night, she had tried to drink away her mistakes, one of which was trusting Landry. His deception burned inside of her, irrevocably re-framing their friendship. Could she even call it a friendship? Had she always been unwittingly engaged in a silent war with him as she nurtured a relationship with their idol? If she didn’t have Ethan, would she still have Landry?

Bitter resentment and anger settled into a cold, aching disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She blamed herself for ignoring the obvious signs and for trusting him without any proof of his merit. She questioned others around her, wondering if they held the same disgusting motives as her former friend. She examined her own ambition and its limits. Could she ever do such a thing to someone she loved? And if she could, was she just as bad as him?

“I did,” Francesca finally responded.

“When you were drunk,” Ethan corrected her, surprised by his own disappointment that she hadn’t come to him, “Why didn’t you tell me when you were sober? Why didn’t you tell me about the sabotage when it began?”

Francesca shrugged as she explained, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to give excuses for my problems, a good doctor should be able to handle whatever is thrown at them. Even if you believed me, I would have just been projecting blame. I’m a better doctor than that.”

“If I believed you? Do you think I wouldn’t have believed you?” He was hurt that she doubted him.

Francesca squirmed, surprised by his accusation and the pain in words. 

“I… I don’t know,” Francesca admitted solemnly, “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Francesca, I wouldn’t have been disappointed in you,” Ethan’s conviction was apparent, and it startled her. “You could have told me.”

Something was swelling in Francesca’s chest, but she was terrified to put more hope on something that never even happened. So instead she switched to his own omission.

“You could have told me you were leaving,” Francesca was emboldened by the intimate space between them and lifted the temporary reprieve she had given him that morning. In this car, under the starlight, they were in a world far from that of Edenbrook. They’d never been closer, yet they’d never been farther away.

Silence. Again.

Ethan’s breath hitched, crushed by her words. Guilt wracked his body, a familiar feeling but in an unexpected context. 

“I did,” Ethan’s evasiveness now mirrored Francesca’s.

“No,” Francesca’s emphasis was startling. She’d never felt so strongly that he hadn’t told her. It was as if his narrative challenged everything she knew, everything she experienced. She didn’t hesitate to remind him of the reality, “You kissed me outside the hospital, took off your badge, announced your resignation to Harper and walked past me as I pleaded for you to stay.”

Francesca had never seemed so raw, so vulnerable. The truth in her eyes overwhelmed him. The bitterness in her voice was palpable, and it was strong enough to expose the darkest part of who they were to one another. 

“Afterwards, you couldn’t even bother to reach out. Not even a text.”

It was now clear that at this point their relationship was merely a patchwork of resentment and doubt, each battling it out beneath the cover of hope and affection. They were held together by strings of unrequited love that were fraying at the edges, threatening to fracture them if they didn’t do something to stop it.

But what were they supposed to do? How did they say something they’d never said before? How could they voice feelings they couldn’t even admit to themselves? How could they open themselves up when the threat of being pushed away was so high?

Ethan froze, his grip tightened on the steering wheel as his memory returned to his last day at Edenbrook. He moved through each event, remembering where Francesca stood in each of them. She’d stood next to him through his failure, still looking up at him like an untarnished hero. How could he stay and face that? Who would he be if he just pretended to be the man she thought he was? Who would he be if he destroyed her idyllic hope in him?

“I told you, I hate texting...but… I shouldn’t have done that…” Ethan searched to find the right words.

“Which part?” Francesca challenged him, tears threatening to spill as she waited for his confession. She didn’t need him to tell her the answer. She already knew what he regretted, but she dared him to confirm that he actually regretted her, not leaving Edenbrook. Ethan Ramsey’s misplaced remorse lay in allowing her so close that his departure pained her. When the chips fell, Ethan resorted to his withdrawal instincts, and Francesca knew it.

Anger sprouted through her soul, reigniting months of rejection and waiting. Francesca Houseman was always waiting for Ethan Ramsey and always hoping that he wouldn’t push her away this time. She maintained a naive assumption that, eventually, he would pull her close instead of casting her out. At what point did she finally accept defeat?

Now, she felt foolish as she stared down the last barrel of hope. Her day with Ethan was beautiful and fostered the desire she’d long abandoned that this man could allow himself to love her. But as the sun lowered on the river, the darkness highlighted the toxic traits that separated them. How stupid had she been to expect him to change all his rules for her? How many women before her had deluded themselves into thinking they were special?

Ethan’s deep sigh was deafening in their newfound silence. He felt like he was driving straight into a hurricane but couldn’t stop his disastrous trajectory. His instincts urged him to do what he should have done months ago and sever their attachment before it came too dangerous. It was one thing for Ethan to suffer due to the depths of his feelings, but to watch Francesca battle a similar affliction was cruel. He needed to stop it.

But as he looked at her, he knew couldn’t stop anything. Even when he tried to leave her, the bond didn’t break. She was here now and while it was a delusion to think that this relationship was anything but dangerous, the risk had already been taken. An intense desire to hold on took control of his body. It was as if, in this moment of crisis, his mind finally found what he valued most – and it was her. 

He should have said that, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “Do you want to come up for a drink?”

Rationally, she knew to tell him, “no”. She knew to get out of his car and walk out of his life because, if he couldn’t accept her now, he never would. She knew that she deserved better, but… she couldn’t do it. That persistent flicker of hope burned bright in her chest at his invitation. She knew what he was asking but needed him to say it.

“To your apartment?” she prompted.

“Yes.”

“To talk?” Francesca demanded for him to be explicit.

She needed him to say that he was inviting her to come back and work through their bullshit. She needed him to say that whatever this was, it was worth fighting for. She needed him to acknowledge their precarious state. She needed him to say that he was trying. Because if he didn’t, after everything they had been through, how could they ever find their way?

“Yes.”

“About what we’re fighting about?” Francesca crossed her arms.

“We’re fighting?” Ethan’s eyes flashed with panic.

“Yes,” Francesca asserted.

Dread gripped his heart as he nodded in understanding.

Francesca tried to think of a million reasons to turn him down anyway, but not one stuck. Because, as she saw a hint of fear in his eyes, all she wanted to do was reach out and take his hand.

“One drink,” Francesca finally consented, and for a moment, Ethan’s tight chest felt relief.

But the fear never subsided. They both sensed the potential finality that approached, and the weight of their unspoken fights and emotions grew increasingly unbearable. Both knew that tonight would determine the course of their relationship - and neither could be sure they weren’t heading towards a dead end. 

When the world stopped spinning, would time still move?

When Ethan arrived home, he hesitated to take the key out of the ignition, and he considered driving far, far away to stay in this little bubble. He wanted to resurrect the day and live it once more, but knowing the option was impossible, he cut the engine and stepped out of the car.

Francesca followed, tenderly rousing Jenner, and the three of them made their way through the underground parking garage toward the waiting elevator. Ethan pressed his floor’s number and leaned back into the elevator walls as if it would slow time. He watched her beside him and witnessed concern etch its lines into her forehead, and without thinking, he reached for her hand.

As his fingers laced through hers, Francesca looked back to Ethan with evident surprise at his assuring gesture. He almost pulled away when he saw her expression, but he stopped when she squeezed his hand in return.

And it was enough. It was enough to try.

CHAPTER FOUR

[oldtumblhurgoyf]

Leviathan

had some stuff conkin around the old noodle lately (read, the past 2+ years) and I’ve never bothered to write any of it cuz it’s all a mess so I’m just gonna kind of stream it below and see if some pieces start to fit better

there’s a woman who is a respectable vintner and rubs shoulders with the upper class and all that. she’s a low aristocrat living in a monarchy and while she’s doing alright for herself, especially compared to the commoners, she dreams of more

like she literally has dreams that are prophetic in nature. she doesn’t know how or why, but she just knows. if she acts on them they can become real. however she is cognizant of the fact that her husband doesn’t appear in any of these dreams and she’s not super sure why

one day the king is coming to visit the area and he’s heard good things about her wines and wants to try them. now she’s had lots of time to prepare for this and is super ready. in fact, she and her husband have planned an elaborate trick to rob the king’s treasury and get away with it

it’s a pretty well known fact that wine snobs would rather drink swill but go along with the popular opinion that it’s incredibly fine wine than buck that opinion to voice distaste and be lampooned as not actually knowing a damned thing about wine. this is more true if everybody knows the price of the bottle.

these two are gonna use that (and this woman’s background in forgery--did I mention she lied and cheated her way up into the aristocracy from peasantry? her husband knows and is pretty cool with it, but they both kept that secret so the two could marry without his family refusing to accept it) anyway these two are gonna use that to produce a very old and highly esteemed and sought after vintage--fake of course. it’s worth a TON and they’re going to offer to let the king buy it from them. there is a fine and old wine in the bottle, and the things so rare, nobody actually knows what the original vintage tastes like, much less after all this time. it’s a perfect crime

of course, something goes wrong. i’m not sure what yet, but they get found out. i’m imagining this elaborate dinner party with the king and his entourage (the whole court isn’t traveling with him, but lots of people are so it’s a hefty crowd) which turns into an impromptu trial when the forgery is somehow found out

now the thing here is, in my mind this is playing out as the two can both deny it and there isn’t hard proof to bring against them (this is a very good forgery, she excels at what she does). maybe in my protagonist’s head she is thinking this and then it comes down to the king’s temperament--does he side with the adviser who insists it’s a fake and punish them, or side with them against his adviser?

but her husband caves under the immense pressure of lying in the face of the king. he wasn’t born into this sort of life style, he just sort of married into it and then the worst he had to do was show his parents the well-forged documents of heredity or whatever proving that his bride-to-be was a distant cousin or some such of some foreign count. he’s never been in this sort of situation and it all just kind of comes up, maybe isn’t even entirely malicious on his part but is the absolute worst thing he could do in this situation

it cuts her so deep, to be betrayed by the man she loves like this. and the sentence for their crime, which in this monarchy is a form of treason, is death. he’s condemned them both... but despite this she can’t stand it and admits before them all her skill at forgery and how it was her idea and her work and here she claims that her husband was unaware of it, that she kept him out of it as well and thus only she should be punished

...except the adviser, who is persnickety and a stickler for details, recalls some small comment or happenstance earlier in the evening which somehow betrays that the husband must have been in on things. he knew and thus despite his wife’s noble attempt at self sacrifice, they must both suffer the punishment

which brings us to this king having a perhaps distorted sense of honor and justice and all that. he reads the husband as a sniveling coward who would sell out his wife to save his own skin (again, maybe that was the case, maybe not) and as such must suffer the fate of a coward (perhaps here the king even confirms that prior to his admission the king felt there was not enough evidence to condemn them and would have simply refused them payment under suspicion). as such it is better the husband be executed rather than “live life as a coward and die a thousand times a day” or some nonsensical line about honor and courage like that. dude’s murdered on the spot, in front of his wife and all. there are fucking cheers because people are like that--they just witnessed god’s divine judgment manifest before their eyes and had no idea dinner would come with such a great show today

he turns to the wife, life destroyed by her husband’s betrayal and subsequent death. she’s numb and traumatized and would welcome the same fate in this moment. the king has other plans. he notes her courage and gumption, if misplaced. he says in a different time, under different circumstances, she could perhaps have made a fine knight or some such, so determined is she and willing to face god and fate unblinking. he sentences her to meet her fate head on, in exile, condemning her to the Tentacles.

that’s part one

now what the fuck are the Tentacles, you ask?

Exogensis by Mac Rebisz

so imagine those things aren’t giant jellyfish but instead giant squid. like, planet-sized squid. the world my story takes place on is one of those squid and the planet is called Leviathan

the head/body of the squid is generally safe and habitable, like just imagine Earth more or less. but those tentacles are a mixed bag of hell. overall they retain atmosphere though it’s thinner and less stable so some areas (and without much rhyme or reason) you can asphyxiate or be exposed unknowingly to dangerous levels of radiation (not that anyone in this setting knows what radiation is and they only barely understand the atmosphere thing--they just know that the Tentacles are hell on Leviathan)

but even more dangerous is the fact that these things are just kind of floating out in space, trailing thousands of miles behind the head/body, and every so often they bang into each other. the appendages themselves can take this kind of beating, but anything on the surface--plants, animals, small towns that have popped up in the last couple of decades to a century since the last tentacle-on-tentacle bashing--is obliterated

life on the Tentacles is harsh and dangerous. for someone who has lived her whole life on Leviathan-proper, exile to the Tentacles is likely a death sentence

so part two picks up here and this is where things get really fuzzy for me. i’m not sure what the trajectory of this story is at this point but big picture here are some things i think i know about the world

Leviathan is one of many planets like this--squid shaped in orbit around a star. but there are no other planets immediately around like it. everything else orbiting this star is a spherical planet. this is because Leviathan is part of an ancient exo-planet colonizing entity. iunno if it’s a “man made” intergalactic space ship of sorts or alien species, but this thing exists to travel the universe, find habitable planets, then jettison a tentacle onto that planet before taking off to a new solar system in search of more planets to cultivate

the tentacle grows on that planet into a new leviathan. which then sets out in search of more hospitable planets to propagate the species

i’m not super sure why or how at the moment, but the surface life of these leviathans--plants, animals, people, all of it--is an intricate and indispensable part of this procreation process. which to me points toward it being an ancient alien seed ship, but i’m more intrigued by the idea of some sort of grand and natural symbiotic relationship where this cosmic entity needs the little bits living impossibly short lives on its surface as much as they need it

my heroine likely finds her way to one of these tentacles as it’s about to shoot off toward a habitable planet. i think she might be an Eve figure? like maybe the people are aware something is about to happen with this tentacle so they are making a mass exodus to save themselves but she’s able to find some sort of deep cave with something akin to stasis capsules and convinces these people they need to hop in ‘em. maybe it’s even just a “hey, we definitely aren’t getting away from this in time, death is certain, so let’s try this and hope against everything we know that a miracle happens”

and of course it does. they wake up to a lush new world. maybe even the Leviathan they came from can still be seen in the distance (though they can tell it’s no longer in orbit, it’s further from the sun and seemingly escaping this solar system--how much time has passed? everyone they may have known, that king that had condemned her and even his entire kingdom, is surely gone). she’s continued to dream in this stasis. she’s here to lead these people and try to better establish a history of where they came from and what these leviathans are, what their Leviathan will seek to do

anyway we get to see her working to establish a new society while also still dealing with the events of her past, which still feel very recent to her. i see the dinner with the king, her exile, and the tentacle jettison all taking place in perhaps two month’s time. then she’s in stasis and wakes up perhaps millions of years later feeling like she just lost her husband two months ago. how do you navigate that intense personal experience with the knowledge of how your actions might effect a global and even intergalactic scale

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [637]

"Are you taking his side against me? Against me?” Ellana hisses, betrayal in her eyes and every line of body.

Hawke and Fenris exchange glances, before Fenris starts going for the door and Hawke quickly picks up his jacket and starts following after his guard. “Welp. That’s our cue. We’ll be in the hallway. Erm. Take your time. Let us know if there’s anything you need. Water. Coffee. A ride home. Body bags…”

“Shut up and leave before first blood,” Fenris says, holding the door open, “I’m not getting in between that.”

“Right.”

Bull glares at the two rapidly retreating men. “I was on your side.”

“We’ll remember you as the first to fall,” Hawke calls out before closing the door.

“You are!” Ellana accuses, “You are siding with them over me! Your boss! Shame on you!”

“I’m just saying,” Bull starts but Ellana cuts him off with a balled up piece of paper. “Shutting up.”

“You’re taking Hawke’s side over mine!” Ellana repeats. “Hawke! Of all the — I’m right! You know I am! I’m right. I need to go to Tevinter. I’ve done this before and it went perfectly fine. I came back with all three of my major limbs still attached. I might have even come back with a new fourth one, freshly ripped off of that bald fuck, if Josephine hadn’t needed me so badly.”

“That was last time, this is a different situation,” Bull says. “Pavus has his hands full and he can’t look after you like before. It’s too risky. We don’t have enough people in Tevinter to make sure you’re safe.”

“Fenris is a one man assassination squad.”

“Fenris is going to have his hands full with Hawke, and if we don’t have Pavus to cover the both of you two giant neon targets, then it’s too risky. Either you go or Hawke goes, it can’t be both. And Hawke is still sorting out business in the Anderfels for his sister. Equally pressing business as our business in Tevinter. You and I both know that we can’t, in good conscience, ask Hawke to leave Fenris with you while he goes off to the Anderfels.”

“He’s done it before.”

“It was a different situation, boss,” Bull says, “You know that. I know that you know that. You know that I know that you know that. You’re just mad because you want to make egg salad out of Solas and you might have to wait a bit for that.”

“I don’t want to wait, the more I wait the more time he has to cause trouble,” Ellana scowls, “Bull. I’m so close to catching him. Hawke and I have traded before, you can go to the Anderfels and Fenris can come with me to Tevinter.”

“Different — “

“If you say different situation one more time I’m going to make you a different situation in regards to your face,” Ellana points her finger at him. “Just try me, Bull. Try me.”

Bull sighs, “Ellana…”

“Bull,” Ellana leans forward, jabbing her finger down onto the map, “We are running out of time before his next big move. And considering that his last big move was to chop my fucking arm off, I don’t want to sit around and see what the next one is going to turn out. Now. If you’re not with me on this one then you better have an equally good solution to this problem. Do you?”

Bull’s mouth twists, “I do.”

“And?”

“And. You need to listen to me fully explain it before you reply.”

“Oh, I don’t like it already.”

“Yeah. Well. Alright, I’m just going to rip it off like a band aide, okay? Have you. Have you considered — “

“Bull, rip it off faster, please.”

“Zevran.”

Ellana stares at him blankly. Bull braces himself for impact.

“Zevran,” Ellana repeats hollowly.

Through the door Bull hears a muffled, “Oh fuck. Okay, we’re going for real, fuck me, Bull’s got balls, Fenris don’t leave me behind — “ and the sound of quickly retreating feet.

“Bull,” Ellana says softly, “Because I’m biased towards you as my blatant favorite person in the world, I’m going to give you one full minute to explain why the fuck you’re bringing Zevran up before I throw you out that window with all the force of betrayal, outrage, disbelief, and good old fashioned gumption has given me. Starting now.”

-

“He was unconscious when I found him.”

“That’s worrying,” Ellana kneels down and start poking the guy’s face with her pen. “Someone got to him before us?”

“Yes’m,” Rylen says, “You’re going to wake him up.”

“If I do you’ll be right here to knock him back out, won’t you?” Ellana replies, tilting her head as she examines the man’s face. “Anything missing from the apartment?”

“We’re looking into it now, ma’am,” Rylen puts his hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t wake him up.”

“Alright, since you said please and I like you,” Ellana agrees, standing up and stepping over the body, “Why is he still on the floor?”

Rylen shrugs, “Didn’t care enough to move him. Did you slip your guard again?”

“At this point slipping my guard is like a tradition,” Ellana says, “Besides, Bull’s never too far behind. It’s like a little game. Cat and mouse. Boss and bodyguard. He enjoys it.”

Rylen doubts that very much. But he’s not going to say anything about it because he didn’t get to be here by asking questions to his superiors. At least, not to their faces.

“Should I ask how much of a lead you’ve got on your guard?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ellana laughs, “It’s a surprise!”

“Right,” Rylen turns around and gestures for one of his squad mates to call headquarters and let them know that their boss is accounted for. “And should I also, possibly, ask you if you’ve managed to slip the federal tail that you’re supposed to be hiding from?”

“Another surprise, Rylen,” Ellana says, going through the bookcase, “Oh, hey, look at this, this guy kept all of his high school photo albums. Wait a second. None of these are real books. This one is made of cardboard. Creators, what a giant tool. All for the aesthetic.”