#and as we move forward he's going to feel that fewer and fewer things are actually within his control

[tomwambsmilk]

This might be my most Controversial post and if you're someone who's genuinely rooting for tom and greg to have their happily ever after in canon then you might not want to read past this point. Just to be perfectly clear I do love tomgreg in both their canon and fanon forms and absolutely no shade to the unironic requited tomgreg truthers, you're the backbone of this fandom and I love your work etc. But. I'm still skeptical of an actual romantic relationship going canon and even more cynical about it actually ending well so, uh. Dead Dove Do Not Eat and all that

I think that Tom being unable to make a really definitive bold choice is intimately related to why I think canonical tomgreg would end in acrimonious divorce (at least with how the characters are at the end of season 3… obviously character development is real and could hypothetically shift the equation). Tom is the literal human embodiment of that fable about the kid who reaches into the cookie jar and gets a huge handful of cookies but then his hand get stuck and he can’t pull it out and he starts crying until someone explains to him that if he lets go all but one he’ll be able to get it out. Except he’s never realized that last part and he’s so afraid of ending up with no cookies at all that he can’t let them go and instead crushes them into dust and tries to eat the crumbs and goes “this is what I wanted actually. This is fine. This is what normal well-adjusted people do and I am Happy.”

It’s deeply rooted in fear and that’s because Tom’s other fatal flaw is being a little bit of a coward. I say this with utmost affection but he’s always hedging his bets and trying to make the safest choice. This is not always a bad thing, but sometimes you do have to make the bold choice just to learn things about yourself. (Or simply because it's the Morally Right Thing To Do but uh. We don't need to get into that right now re: Tom). You have to make a choice and sacrifice something in the process and that’s how you learn what will make you happy and what won’t. Except Tom is so afraid of being unhappy and making the wrong choice that he can never let himself do that, and that’s why he doesn’t really know who he is and what he wants and instead lets himself be defined by societal images of wealth and privilege. He likes expensive things because that’s what he’s supposed to like. He wants to be CEO because that’s what he’s supposed to want. I think if he actually became CEO he would be miserable, in part because of what he’d need to sacrifice to get there but also because being CEO means being bold and taking risks and I think that’s actually his own personal version of hell.

That’s part of why I’m skeptical of tomgreg going canon because I think leaving Shiv for Greg would be an incredibly bold move and I don’t think Tom’s capable of that. Maybe if his marriage fell apart Tom would go for Greg, but then I think he’d very quickly find himself in a “grass is greener” situation. I don’t think he would really actively choose Greg, internally, so much as stumble into that relationship because Greg is there and Greg is the person he’s closest to, and eventually this would eat away at him. That’s NOT to say Tom wouldn’t have very genuine feelings for Greg, but I think stumbling right from his failed marriage into a relationship with Greg would set the whole thing up to crumble and collapse, especially once the weight of Tom’s emotional baggage sets in. There’s going to be a part of him asking himself “do I really love Greg or was he just convenient,” and rather than making the decision to really commit to Greg and see if the relationship can work he’ll start developing an emotional affair with someone else without even realizing what he's doing, because the problem with really making the decision to try and commit to Greg wholeheartedly is what if it ends up being Shiv all over again? What if he decides to be vulnerable with Greg and open up to him and give Greg his emotional fidelity and Greg ends up letting him down?

And because he's incapable of having an emotionally honest conversation he just starts tallying everything Greg does in some mental T-chart of "he loves me/he loves me not". Meanwhile, I do think Greg would be largely taken in, at least initially, by the idea that Tom threw everything away for him and when he realizes that Tom's marriage to Shiv was going to crumble into dust on its own merits anyway he's going to start feeling like a consolation prize and start pulling away and that's going to make the whole situation worse. When the relationship finally breaks down it will be acrimonious because both of them are going to feel upset and betrayed and misled. And that doesn't even begin to factor in Tom's uglier possessive and abusive tendencies and the pressure that remaining at Waystar would put on the relationship and whatever unresolved issues Greg still has around his gay homewrecking dad. Theoretically, they could go to therapy and start working through this shit and improve as people and make it work but tbh I think that they're far more likely to cannibalize each other first and not in a romantic way.

I would love to see it though. I really would. It would be an absolute nightmare but it would be amazing television and I would eat that shit up. Jesse Armstrong are you listening to me. Jesse Armstrong answer my calls

[nocturnowlette]

The Dragon

The dragon walks up behind me. I'm in a nondescript white room. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all the same material: something ethereal, almost seeming to glow but only when I'm not directly looking. The light emanating from seemingly nowhere seems to infinitely reflect off every surface, making it sometimes hard to tell if the walls are even there, or how big this space really is. Though I haven't turned around, I know it's the dragon. I've seen him before, but I forget where. More importantly, I've felt him before. It feels like it's something I've always known, some part of my DNA, maybe my entire lineage. This dragon's presence is known more to my instincts than my mind. His name is - translated to something I can understand - is Sunny. Though, honestly, I don't think there is a name that can accurately represent a creature like this. He's right behind me now.

I haven't turned around, in a way it doesn't feel necessary. I've known his ears, half cones tapering off to a point at the back. I know his horns, between the two ears, bowed outwards and bending in 90 degree angles. They rise until they're just above the ear, tilting gently forward just past the ears before sharply bending straight backwards, then bending one more time downwards, ending in a sharp point. I know his tail, seemingly large and yet ever-changing in its largeness. Dulled fins, equally spaced, line the top; the bottom half, a lighter pink than his short-furred purple everywhere else, runs with slight waves along its surface. They feel like waves frozen in time. I sense waves of something wash over me. Energy? Pressure? Like a dull droning hum without any sound. It's surrounding me.

As he kneels down behind me, the presence seems to double, then triple in intensity; the air feels tough to move through, and so I don't. Cutting through the invisible waves assaulting my mind, thoughts come flooding to me; Where am I? What is this? What's going to happen to me? A sense of danger starts to creep over me, the hair standing on my back, heart rate increasing- The dragon puts his arms over my shoulders, gently, and places his head over his arm on my left. He seems almost impossibly peaceful. A moving statue. The presence seems to have disappeared entirely, giving me room to think. And yet, I'm paralyzed. All I can really do is stare.

The dragon, whose gaze was near immobile and dull moments before, seems to have the shine of the room gently reflect in his eye. He takes a deep breath in, holding for a short moment, before breathing slowly, slowly out. His breath is a light purple. Due to his snout and head position, the breath is missing me entirely: likely a good thing, perhaps he's purposefully avoiding my nose? We sit there for a while. A few minutes, maybe. He breathes in, slowly, holding it for a moment, then out, slower. I find myself starting to sync with his breaths, so steady that it feels like a gentle rhythm. As much as I don't want to admit it, it's giving some comforting solace in the middle of the confusion. That, and the slight smell of lavender.

The contrast of the artificial coldness of the room and the smell of pure nature is dizzying. Or, something is dizzying. I close my eyes, trying to take in fewer senses and get my mind sorted. He starts to purr. Can dragons purr? Apparently, they can. The rumble has a strong feeling to it, like snoring, but I adjust quickly to it. It reminds me of game controllers and earthquakes and dryers. Definitely dryers. It has that slight rumble to it, like something light is tumbling, and the warmth. I'm surrounded by warmth, like a dense blanket.

The arms around my shoulders are like a scarf, the dragon seeming to be ever closer than before. When did he move? Wait, where am I? Why am I thinking about all of this? I open my eyes. The room looks different. I swear, it does. The color is slightly different, but only in the corners of my vision. A light purple? It smells like lavender. I look to my left again, the breath still steadily pumping out. Is there no ventilation? It feels harder to breathe, like the air is dense. I need to breathe in more, but I'm only getting dizzier. I need to find a way out-

"Breathe in, deeply."

I feel my lungs work on their own, taking a breath that feels impossibly large.

"Breathe out, slowly."

My lungs empty as if there was nothing there in the first place.

My brain feels heavy, exhausted.

"I'm sure it does."

What?

"Don't think too hard."

My thoughts are like molasses.

"Isn't that such a nice feeling?"

It's hard to disagree. It's actually very, very hard.

It feels like I've always loved this feeling.

"You have."

I have?

"Yes. You ask a lot of questions for a pet."

I'm a pet?

The dragon chuckles.

"Of course. Why do you think you're here?"

Why am I here?

"To meet me, officially. You've always known me."

I have?

"You have."

I have.

"There we are. Don't you feel lovely?"

I do.

"Isn't that all that matters?"

It is.

"Good pet. Let's go home, now."

Anything you wish.

[lycheedr3ams]

little blog announcement

TLDR: my könig fanfics from here on out will be focused on discovering his character rather than porn

rant below the cut

before you read this, just look into his eyes for a moment. are you seeing what i'm seeing? the pain and hardships he went through? the years of training and going to bed with broken bones and bruises and a bloody nose? the tears he cried alone because he had no one? can you see how many times he had to pick himself up because he was the only one he had? can you see the man who didn't get to live his dream, who couldn't be the one thing he wanted to be?

i have been thinking a lot about könig's character, story, personality, etc., and i've decided that i want to dedicate my fanfictions moving forward (for the most part) to things that only really make sense for his character. so, this means no porn without plot from me anymore.

there is so much porn without plot out there for könig, and i'm far from the best smut writer. there is an abundance of porn for könig, but far, far less fanfictions (even fewer halfway good ones) that actually have to do with his character. i don't mean disrespect to any fanfic writer, but i'm just very tired of the mischaracterization of könig. the same thing happens to ghost's character too, and several blogs have also posted about these mischaracterization issues.

yeah, some people might say this take is "too deep" or "it's not that serious", but i feel very connected to könig since i am similar to him in a lot of ways (obviously not in terms of being a killer lol). i have spent a lot of time lately just thinking about his character, and the more i think about him, the more i realize that there is so fucking much that most fanfic writers are missing about könig.

yes, we all love könig's accent, height, cock, and everything else that makes him sexually attractive. but what about the little boy who was bullied his whole life, who never had any friends, the one who dropped out of high school to join the army? the one who worked his way up from nothing to become a fierce and respected soldier? after all the porn without plot is said and done, what thoughts go through könig's mind at the end of the day? how does he interact with others? my point being, i want to dedicate my blog more to understanding his character. if you want könig porn without plot, there are many other blogs to find that from. I AM NOT SAYING PORN WITHOUT PLOT IS INHERENTLY BAD! Just that I don’t want to contribute to it.

I will still have porn without plot on my blog, but i will not be writing it myself.

this doesn't mean that i won't post könig porn. oh fuck no, i will have könig porn, but it will be in the context of a story and his character overall than just porn without plot. now, i might break this rule here and there if i have a really good idea, but i'd like to stick as close to my new personal rule as possible. i'm still going to finish the death's angel AU, and i will still be taking requests for butcher!könig cuz that AU is just so good.

but other than that, i seriously want to dedicate this blog to truly understanding könig: to getting under his skin and picking his brain and figuring out who he is behind the hood, who he is other than an austrian military sex symbol many of us - myself included - have made him out to be

if you disagree or don't like this, just don't interact. no need to be hateful. you'll get blocked if you're rude :)

[yanban-san]

Binging the Eldritch Submas for that sweet sweet fluff with a dash of nervousness and not-quite-understanding-but-eager-to-learn-about-humanity monster content. 👌👌👌 That's the good stuff right there.

It's been said and written many times before that the twins tend to leak their true forms when flustered/in love/~spicy times~ happen, but could the same also be said when they're angered? Not annoyance or impatience, or "Gods not this twat again", but actual, unbridled pissed off anger.

Scenarios abound because brainrot real.

Emmet happens across a small group of onlookers while doing his rounds, curious to what caused the gathering. Lo and behold, Darling is there, dealing with a rude patron. He goes in to take care of it, but gets a front row seat to a sucker punch at Darling. He can feel his form starting to split as he not-so-gently shoves the attacker back towards the other Depot Agents, barely holding it together as he gives orders. When they leave and the gathering is ushered on their ways, he briskly leaves to the employee only areas, away from humanity's sight. Darling follows in concern, knowing that Emmets is barely held together with only force and will, and finds him cracking out of his human shape. Both travel to his office away from prying eyes, where Darling thankfully manages to convince him to not kill/erase the attacker or to not cause grevious harm, and comforts him with care and reaffirmations.

Ingo and Darling are in the tunnels for safety checks and maintinence, Darling on lights while Ingo's on the tracks. The light to their left's alright, the second one just started, when rapidly approaching footsteps catch their ears. Darling looks down in time to see a trio of troublemakers approaching before their ladder gives way with a shove. The world is alight with pain and stars in the air when they collide with the railing. When the world is clear again, they hear retreating footsteps and screams fading to the distance, and can feel the darkness surrounding them. Ingo's form is cracking, threatening to swallow the tunnel (perhaps beyond) with the little that's already out. Darling pushes up off the track, and Ingo is instantly next to them, focusing on them with the troublemakers pushed out of mind. His upper face is stuck in shadows with a few too many silver eyes, and is hugged all the same. Legs having turned to jelly, Darling is swept up by Ingo and carried down the tunnel. Reaffirmations carry down the tunnel softly as the pair travel down.

Put it under spoiler tag 'cause is long ^^

Emmet didn't bother walking, in truth. He took a step forward, and his destination became a far closer than a single mortal stride ever would take him.

An unruly passenger. Someone whose heart was overtaken by anger, over what? A train running late? A missing pass? What silly things to be so upset over.

They would have far more pressing concerns soon enough.

"…and FUCK you!"

"Please, Sir, I'm just following procedure- We can replace your pass, but I need to see your I.D-"

Oh?

The sound of your voice surprised and alarmed him- Weren't you on break?

And the way that mortal spoke to you-

"Out of my way." Emmet demanded, briskly moving towards the sound of your voice and across the clusters of customers and would-be passengers in front of him.

All that mattered was you-

"For the last fucking time, I ain't showing you shit-"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir. You're causing a disturbance-"

"Like hell I am! I'll cause as much of a disturbance as I want!"

You sighed heavily, trying your best to maintain your composure. Though to be fair- Would Emmet and Ingo even punish you if you didn't? Given how they treated you now, and especially now that you knew- Or well, sort of knew- What they were, they'd probably think it very endearing-

"…All because YOU won't do your fucking job!"

You shook your head, looking around, and barely paying attention to the insults being hurled at you- Few customers were watching, and fewer still were even in the area. You'd already called Gear Station Security, and all that was left was to wait the few minutes it would take for them to arrive. One way or another, this man wouldn't be getting a free pass, or even another ride on the train. How unfortunate. Not.

And then you heard a familiar clicking of heels. Not like the any of your coworkers walked, but a strange rhythmic, distinctive clicking- Of a man who was more like a oricorio then any human.

But who really wasn't a human at all, was he?

"Oh, Emme-!" You shouted, gesturing for him to come over- Anyone to deal with this slimeball- But your words faltered, looking at the glint of venomous ire in his eyes.

"Fucking pay attention-!"

And out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man approach- And specifically you saw his fist.

And closed your eyes, turning your head away in anticipation of the blow- That connected with your face, but far lighter than you'd thought he'd strike-

"What the- fucking-"

"Oh my. Someone isn't following proper safety procedures."

You turned to see not your attacker, but Emmet- Standing between you and the customer, holding their fist in his own hand-

Crack.

"Fucking- OW!"

The man winced, and Emmet kicked his legs out from under him- Still holding his clenched hand.

"Shut up." He continued, his voice as icy and dead as seemingly possible-

"Who the fuck-"

"I said. Shut up." Emmet repeated.

The man opened his mouth to speak- And nothing came out. His frame trembling, his eyes wide-

"Sir!"

"We're so sorry, we were responding-"

Your coworkers- And two security guards- Stopped when they saw you, lying on the ground with a slowly blooming bruise on your cheek- And their awe-inspiring Lord and Master holding down the worm had injured you.

"Em-Emmet-"

Emmet's attention lingered on the man a moment more before he shoved him backwards- Falling down to your side.

"My poor love-" "Are you alright?"

"It's- It's just a bruise, it'll heal-" You spoke carefully. If you made too light of it, they wouldn't pay attention to your words- If you made it too serious, they wouldn't be as merciful as you were trying to train them to be.

His smile was pained as his silver eyes scrutinized the blemish on your face. His hand caressed the corner of your face, squishing your cheek and making you wince. His eyes narrowed.

"You've been hurt." He remarked. Yes, you wanted to say, but that doesn't mean you need to erase this guy-

You pushed his hand away, making him flinch. "I'm fine, Emmet." You retorted. He opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it, turning his attention to the Depot Agents behind you.

"Ramses. Remove this man. He is not allowed in Gear Station. Or any station for that matter. Ever again. You three. Assist him."

Ramses nodded, and the rest of the depot agents followed his orders- And Emmet picked you up, dusting you off.

"You alright?" Ramses asked. He may not have been a particular kind Agent, but he wasn't apathetic, either- And the bruise on your cheek was turning an awful shade of reddish-brown, and rather quickly.

"I- I'm really okay, that was just a bit of a shock, really."

Emmet grabbed your shoulder tighter. His mouth split open again, but no voice came out.

"Emmet." You warned, noticing the dangerously bright glint in his slit-like pupils. His gaze turned back to you.

"Daaarling…" he pouted. "Fine. You need medical attention. Come with me."

"Wait-"

But he would not listen to your protests, and in a flurry of movement you were in the back hallways of Gear Station being lead away with your beloved, most likely towards a med station or something-

"Emmet," You began, trying to get his attention.

He kept walking, drumming his free hand against his lips- His mouth wordlessly opening and closing.

"Emmet-"

His stare intensified down the hallway, his pace picking up as he muttered to himself in a voice quite unlike the voice of Station Master Emmet. "He shouldn't be ali-"

"EMMET!" You raised your own voice, grabbing his arm with your free hand.

Emmet stopped walking, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"…Yes?" He finally answered.

"I- …I'm okay. You already banned the guy from Gear Station, you don't need to do anything else." You explained. "I'm okay."

His grip on your hand tightened.

"But that man hurt you."

You sighed. "Y-Yes he did, but that doesn't mean he deserves death."

Emmet's head tilted away from you. "He deserves worse-"

You shook your head, squeezing his hand back. "No, he really doesn't."

You continued on. "You don't need to react so strongly, Emmet- Yes, that guy did something bad, but- He's going to suffer enough being banned from the Subway, don't you think? Look at me."

He shook his head.

"Emmet… Please look at me."

"…No."

You looked down at his hand. One, two, three… Four, five, six- Seven- fingers? Clothed like the glove, but different.

"I don't mind what you look like." You offered. "You have extra fingers on your hand right now, you know."

He tried to pull his hand away. You held on. "All that means to me is I have more hand to hold. And I'm not letting go."

You squeezed it harder. "You were really cool back there, you know."

His body relaxed. Oh?

"It was thanks to you that this bruise wasn't worse. And it was super cool how you leapt out to save me. And how you grabbed his hand. And you shut him up just by intimidating him."

The face of your beloved began turning towards you.

"I'm so glad to have such a wonderfully strong boss who works so hard to protect me."

You leaned against him. "And I'm very glad you listened to me,"

"So won't you please look at me?"

Emmet turned his face to you- His smile pursed, his eyes- Cracking. Like dried up, ancient plaster, revealing a shadowy shape underneath- His mouth came open a little bit, the maw darkened within- His sideburns giving way to feathers and fur and silky-shimmering-ribbons of white and silver. His pupils were slits, glowing with the smallest hint of light- Yet still bright enough to make the lights of the hall seem dim and dull in comparison. You grabbed his cheek, holding his face in front of you.

"L-Love," He stuttered out, as you rubbed the corners of his cracked face.

"Shh. You've done good, Emmet." You remarked, gently tracing the edge of the visible feathers- They were soft, and cool and warm and perfect to touch. Your hand shivered as you brushed them, and he closed his eyes gently and slowly, watching you the whole time.

"You did good. Thank you."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stay close to me," Ingo ordered. You nodded quietly and cautiously, and Ingo's arm went around your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

"We don't know what exactly is down here- You wanted to see what it might be?"

"…Yes." You nodded again, looking up at the Subway Boss. Despite the darkness, his silver eyes shone brighter than the light around you. It was frightening- The tunnels of the Subway were dark, twisting- And ever-shifting and ever-turning. Ever since you learnt the truth of your bosses, you'd learned the truth of Gear Station too- And how the tunnels were constently the subject of attacks from… Other things.

And your curiosity got the better of you.

You wanted to see these Other things, if you could. Besides, if Ingo and Emmet were as powerful as they said they were, resassuring you that you would never be hurt by those Other Things- Would it be such a problem if you wanted to encounter one? Especially with them to protect you.

Ingo wrapped his arm around you, even tighter. "I won't let you go."

You hugged him back.

The two of you walked carefully in the dark tunnels- Your footsteps clicking, yet not echoing- The light illuminating the edges of the tunnels seemed dimmed, somehow- Offset by the brightness of the fire-lights of Ingo's dear chandelure, floating around the two of you in contentment as it moved back and forth around the tunnel.

You stayed mostly silent, listening carefully as you approached the strange sound, echoing down the halls of the Subway Tunnel. It only grew louder and louder, a horrible screechy-groaning-grinding sound that reverberated in your ears and left them ringing. Ingo grabbed you harder, stepping forward- His silver eyes blinked slowly under the brim of his hat, less like a blink and more as though he were paying attention to something-

"Ah." He remarked- And you turned your head up to him, tilting your head curiously. "A T-junction is stuck, it seems. …I don't believe it's anything… Supernatural, my dear."

"You can tell all that, just from closing your eyes a second?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"…I can tell you anything I like about these tunnels, my Love." He drummed his hand along your shoulder, making you shiver. "Here, let us deal with that racket, first. It must hurt your ears."

You nodded, and the two of you approached the problem area, rounding the corner to see the T-junction beam bent out of shape, and several of the tunnel lights humming and flickering-

"Hmm." Ingo noted. "I'll handle the rail. Will you take a look at the lights?" You nodded in response, already rolling up your sleeves. The lights didn't seem to be out, but were certainly behaving strangely- No doubt due to some Joltiks having themselves a feast, you guessed.

Ingo hopped down over the railing of the maintenance trail and you settled in front of the circuit box for the lights, and- Yup, chewed through, frayed wires. Nothing a little electrical tape, and a few replacement wires, wouldn't fix, you were certain. You couldn't help but turn to Ingo while you taped some of the exposed bits up- Ever curious as to what he was doing. He looked down at the bent, twisted rail, grinding against itself, and suddenly it was engulfed in shadows- And a loud clunk and bang later, the shadows unraveled, and the rail was- Fine. Better than fine- It looked brand new.

You were about to ask him what exactly he'd done, when suddenly you heard a shuffling in the darkness of the tunnel- And you turned your head to see a large, heavy thing rapidly moving towards you- Falling on top of you. A ladder. What was a ladder doing here?

Ingo heard your yelp in surprise, and you flinched, unable to move.

"Holy shit-" "Bolt!" "Go!"

The impact never came.

"Are you alright?"

You opened your eyes nervously- The ladder that had been threatening to squish you like a wurmple was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ingo was holding you. Tightly.

"A monster-!" "Holy fucking shit-"

You craned your neck to see the shadows of- Teens. Of course. Bolting their way up an access ladder back into a street above the tunnel, where sunlight poured down- But was blocked by a shadowy shape, reaching out into the rays, almost looking like they pulled at the light- Covering the walls and undulating like a living mass of darkness- Which is what it was, wasn't it?

"Darling?"

You turned your head to look at Ingo again- A shadowy figure dripping with darkness, with silver lights of eyes looking down at your figure. You felt the cold, smooth tentacles wrapping around your skin and cradling you tightly.

"I-I- I think I'm okay," You breathed heavily, feeling your heart beginning to settle from the shock. The shadowy figure picked you up, cradling you tightly against his chest-

"Y-You're a lot larger like this," You remarked. "All the better to protect you, my Dear." He purred back. "I would hate to think about what might have happened had you been injured…"

"Thank- Thank you, Ingo."

Your boss-turned-Sweetheart-turned-inhuman-monster cuddled you tighter. "Let us return to the safety of Gear Station… I would feel better if you were there, especially to recover…"

And off he went, carrying you- Settling back into a more human form, silvery-eyes looking at you from out of the darkness, closing the moment you made eye contact with them. "You're cute like this."

Ingo stopped for a second, the eyes shutting around him as the ones on his face widened. "W-What? What do you mean?"

"Your eyes. They're pretty. Like starlight. And your shadows, they're very comforting-" And you craned your neck, kissing him on the cheek-

"But not as comforting as having such a protective sweetheart like you around, Ingo."

"I- I-"

You almost giggled at how flustered he sounded, stuttering out words as his fingers dug into your sides where he carried you- And other hands grabbed, holding you tightly.

"That- That is, it would be- Expected, I would think-"

"Expected or not, thank you for protecting me, Love."

He took a deep breath. "Of course, My love." He gripped you even tighter- Almost painfully so. "Be a little cautious with your words," He breathed out, his voice strangely calm. "I have quite little patience when it comes to being so tormented by your affections, My dear."

You could feel a blush spreading across your face- And if there was any light left in the tunnels, you would've been able to see that Ingo had much the same across his own human features.

[aristocratic-otter]

Thank you, my friends, for keeping me in your thoughts while I took a two week hiatus from posting. I did still enjoy reading your own work! I'm back from vacation now, and have some things to share (and fewer WIPs for the moment, since Raising Dragons and Tickle the Dragon's Tail and Threads of Fate are posted) (We'll see how long that lasts).

Thank you to all of you who've tagged me while I was gone: @artsyunderstudy, @alleycat0306, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @j-nipper-95@prettygoododds, @fatalfangirl, @larkral, @whatevertheweather, @blackberrysummerblog, @nausikaaa, @annabellelux, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @shrekgogurt, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @nightimedreamersghost, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @confused-bi-queer, @palimpsessed, @theearlgreymage, and @iamamythologicalcreature! Tag Backsies for today or Wednesday!

Here we go!

From my nameless Age of Sail Au:

Baz

I’ve never been so scared in my life. 

Each time the ship falls forward into the trough of an enormous wave, I’m certain that this is the end, that the ship will roll and capsize, dragging us under to drown. I can only breathe again once we start to rise up the crest of the next wave. 

I think Simon is as frightened as I am, but he’s hiding it well. Still, I feel his arm tense up against mine each time the ship pitches and rolls, and I hear his faint gasp of relief each time we survive again. 

It feels like the ship is tossed about the vast ocean like a toy for hours, but there’s really no way of knowing how long it’s been when an immense jolt shudders through the frame of the ship.

From my 2023 COTTA, Snow Fox:

“You’re not going to die tomorrow!” my voice is fierce, and Baz startles at my volume. “You’re not,” I repeat, lowering my voice. I step into him, pressing my naked flesh to his. His breath catches in his chest at the feel of me against him. I can see his face now, and my chest hurts at the doubt and sorrow I read there. 

“You can’t promise that,” he says, shaking his head.

From my 2021 COTTA (wince): Westward Son:

We want to make up the time we lost by stopping early yesterday, so everyone is skipping a morning meal around the campfire. Instead, Henri passes about the coffee ewer so we can fill a canteen with the energizing drink, and we all stuff some nuts and dried meat and fruit in our pockets, to eat while we’re on the move. 

When our small caravan starts single file up the narrow mountain road, I shiver a little. It’s getting colder, but that’s not why. I shiver because the few wagons and people that walk ahead of us seem so insignificant and helpless against the might of the Blue Mountains. I close my eyes briefly and say a small prayer to any gods that actually exist, that we’ll come out of these mountains in the same condition in which we’re entering. 

From the upcoming chapter of Saving Simon Snow:

“Not only is my father quite unhappy with my queerness, he’s probably furious that he has to give up punishing you in order to save me.”

I think about that. It makes sense. I’m sorry that Baz’s relationship with his father was harmed by his bond to me, but I can’t exactly be sorry that the old homophobe was forced to accept Baz’s situation. 

“That and he probably doesn’t want to have to think about us having gay sex in his house,” I say wryly. 

From the upcoming chapter of The Naked Next (coming in the next day or so!):

As I stride to sickbay, Simon cuddling into my chest and babbling praises of my beauty into my collarbone, I’m thinking furiously. What is this disease, if it is a disease? It acts like intoxication. Are the effects the same? Is this how Simon would act with the lowered inhibitions of an inebriated state? I’ve never seen him drunk. But…in vino veritas, isn’t that what humans say?

From: To Heal a Broken Heart (probably posting in the next six weeks!) (Sorry it took so long, Macey!):

“All th’ years I fought w’ you…and I was in love w’ you the whole time—that’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.” He laughs through his teeth like a donkey braying. 

I laugh too, at the sound. Then my sluggish brain processes what he said. “Wait, what?”

Simon’s face is turned away from me, so I reach out to shake his arm. “What did you say?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his head rolls towards me like its strings have been cut. His eyes are open and his face is vacant. 

“Simon!”

So, I'm momentarily back down to six WIPs, lol. Except I just started plotting a canon divergence where Simon's known to be Davy's son and therefore Baz sets out to seduce him in order to get at the Mage...and Fristi and I are working out a new idea....Also still thinking about the Simon as a tiktok dancer au...sigh.

Tagging, along with everyone above, (since it's actually still Sunday for once):

@bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @frjsti, @facewithoutheart, @giishu, @hushed-chorus, @ic3-que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @letraspal, @moodandmist, @onepintobean, @rimeswithpurple, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @tea-brigade, @technetiumai, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @yellobb-old

[flintox]

Hitting the gym!

"Hey there! I'm Lester! Thank you so much for choosing our gym!" The serval beamed. "Would you like a tour of the place?"

He was a bit taken aback by the sheer amount of energy the serval was exuding, it was too be expected from someone working at a gym but even so it was a bit more than his introverted butt could handle. "Uh-sure!" Quinn said without thinking. Truth be told he kind of just wanted to quietly work going to the gym into his routine and would have been fine just exploring the place on his own... ...but considering this was a mix sized gym maybe getting the tour was the better choice.

"Great!" Lester's tail swished behind him. "Just follow me and dont be afraid to ask any questions."

The spitz nodded and followed along the colorful cats quick pace. He couldn't help but notice the servals figure. Usually they were slim figured but this Lester guy was pretty broad, he assumed this was how you'd get when you worked in the fitness field. It was actually pretty close to what his goals were for working out, not huge but at least visibly fit looking.

They passed through a set of doors into a massive open space. Huge building like gym equipment filled the view, with towering macro gym goers lifting far more weight than an army of micros could hope to move by hand. There was a path painted on the floor that had a sort of tube covering it, denoted for micros to walk through to keep them safe from any careless steps, leading to a section in the middle of the gym area.

Quinn tensed up, noticing a discrepancy. "Uh-"

The serval stopped. "Something wrong?"

"S-shouldn't the micro area be on a raised platform?" Quinn asked. He'd been shopping around the are for a cheap gym and usually they had the micro areas elevated to a safe location where they weren't at the mercy of the footsteps and dropping weights of the larger lifters.

"Ah. Yes." Lester chuckled, a hint of nervousness in his tone. "That's intentional. If we had a massive staircase leading to it, our costumers would be wasting energy" The serval explained.

"B-but wouldn't that be solved with some elevato-"

"Here we are!" Lester interjected as they stepped out of the tube into the micro gym area proper. Quinn could see gym equipment small enough for micros to use, through there was a distinct lack of micros about actually using them, at least far fewer than the macros at the gym. The serval walked forward. "Now, what are you looking to achieve here?"

The question caught him off guard, stumbling a bit as he felt the vibration caused by a towering otter walking past the micro area. It didn't inspire much confidence in their safety that the are didn't have any walls or anything, the only thing between them and the macros was a thin yellow line painted on the ground. He shook the thought from his head, it was probably fine. "Uh-to just get in shape, i guess?"

"If you want, i could set you up with a basic program to get you started." Lester offered. "One of the main reasons people fall out of their regular gym visits is because they dont see any real change after a week or two, usually this is due to not knowing how to properly structure their worko-" The ground shook as a massive sneaker slammed down just outside the micro gym area, quickly followed by another one. Both micros looked up to the giant currently blotting out the ceiling lights, seeing a towering, cream colored border collie smirking down at them with a smile on her face, brown eyes locked directly onto the serval.

"Hey Lester!" The colossal canine beamed, placing her hands on her on her knees and leaning over them, filling the view above them.

Quinn found his body freezing up, a feeling shared by 99.9% of micros around the world when finding themselves around the far larger people they shared the world with.

"H-hey Shannon!" The serval called up, clearly struggling to keep his voice from shaking.

"I was looking for you." The collie gushed. "I need you to show me how to do those push ups again."

Lester looked towards Quinn and then back up to the macro collie. "Well uh- i'm actually with another client right no-"

Suddenly a pair of fingers rushed down and snatched the serval up with a sharp yelp. Quinn jumped away instinctively and stared up as the collie rose to her full height with the fidgeting gym instructor between her fingers. Before he could even close his jaws the collie fingers released Lester. Quinn felt a chill run up his spine as the serval vanished into the collies cleavage.

Shannon adjusted her top briefly before walking off, leaving Quinn alone on the micro lifting area, shaking with adrenaline and disbelief. That couldn't be allowed here, could it?

This was a bit too much for him, the Spitz decided it might be best for him to get some home equipment to start out before committing to a gym. He turned on his heel and headed towards the tube tunnel leading back to the locker room.

As he was about to reach it, a house sized sneaker crashed down in front of it, sending him reeling back in shock. As he stood completely frozen, another sneaker landed behind him, far softer.

"Well hello there!"

Quinn slowly looked up to the towering figure, his eyes trailing up a slim pair of white furred calves with brown spots larger than his entire body, up a pair of plush, toned thighs that looked as if they could fit a house on them with ease. Past the green shorts he could see the smirking face of a mouse, green eyes obscured slightly by a pair of glasses. "Uh-"

"You're new here, right?" The mouse asked, squatting down over him. The sight of the massive rodent lowering down causing Quinn to freeze in place like a deer in headlights. "I'm Gawain. Pleased to meet you."

"Q-Quinn!" The canine squeaked. "I-i was just heading out, actuall-"

"Oh, but you just got here!" The mouse interjected. "Look, i know what you're feeling. Going to the gym for the first time can be scary. It's a very new experience. Tell you what, i'll be your partner for the day!"

He swallowed. "P-partner?"

The mouse smiled wider. "You get so much more out of your workout with a partner."

"T-that's a kind offer bu-"

"Great!" Gawain beamed. "Let's start with bench presses!"

"Wait! I-" Before Quinn could protest the giant reached for him. In the blink of an eye the large mouse's finger pressed onto his chest, pinning him to the ground on his back and pressing the air out of him. He frantically tried to push the finger off, not even managing to budge it an inch.

A chuckle sounded above him. "Now, you're a bit small for me to properly spot for you, so this is a fine compromise, dont you think?" Gawain mused. "Remember to arch your back, helps focus the weight on your chest."

Barely able to think through the fear of being crushed, the Spitz somehow managed to follow the instruction, though mostly it was in an attempt to include his legs in the lifting. He let out a strained growl as he pushed and as if by some miracle, the finger began to lift. Once his arms were straight the massive digit moved away, leaving Quinn sweaty and panting on the floor, shaking from exhaustion.

"You did great buddy!" Gawain beamed. "Not bad for a first timer."

"P-please-" Quinn gasped. "No more!"

The mouse cocked his head. "Aww, been there buddy, overdoing it on your first day. No worries, happens to the best of us. Take a break for the rest of the day. You should hit the sauna before you leave."

He slowly sat up and nodded, feeling his muscles ace and his nerves screaming for him to leave before the giant tried to assist him further. "Y-yeah. Uh- wait, this place has a sauna?" Quinn didn't remember seeing that anywhere.

Gawain smirked wider. "Sure does. Let me show you."

Before Quinn could even get to his feet, the mouse plucked him off the ground. Two fingers the size of his torso held him between them as he was lifted into the air, dangled in front of the mouse's smirking face, his own panicked expression reflected in his glasses.

Shuffling sounded from below and suddenly the mouse bent forward again. Quinn found himself dangled lower to the ground, below him was a large dark opening, a warm and damp smell rising up from it. It was the mouth of the mouse's sneaker. "Wait! NONONONO-"

The fingers parted and he fell, landing on something soft, warm and slightly damp. Before he could pick himself up, the sneaker tilted, sending him rolling backwards deeper into the footwear. The Spitz landed with his back against the cloth wall, dazed and confused.

As his vision cleared, he could see the dark insides of the sneaker, small slivers of light escaping through the tiny holes that made it breathable. He wasn't even given a chance to fully realize the strength of the smell within his new confines before a shape started to slink inside the mouth of the shoe. A gigantic, cotton covered set of toes.

"No! Wait! NO!" The tiny canine whimpered, trying to crawl back further into the shoe as the sock covered foot inched closer and closer, the sound of fabric on fabric filling his ears as the larger source of fresh air was plugged by the mouse's sole. A shrill shriek escaped his lips as the toes slammed into his torso, clenching and dragging him under them as they settled on top of him. A toe planted itself on to of his face, forcing the soft cotton covered pad into his cheek. He tried to squirm but his was already too exhausted from his single bench press to even try. The massive toes flexed and clenched, moving him about under them until he could feel his face pop into some opening.

Quinn managed a desperate breath, immediately reeling from the strong scent of the rodents foot. As his vision began to clear, he found himself staring right between two white furred toes, his face having been forced through a small hole in the mouse's sock. Before he could try to call for help, the toes clenched together, pinching his snout between them as Gawain too a step.

---------

With his partner firmly in place, Gawain let out a satisfied sigh. The new ones were always the most fun and this one looked really cute to boot!

He took a swig from his water bottle and began his search for an empty treadmill, eager to start his own workout routine.

[balshumetsbaragouin]

Bittersweet Future: Chapter Fifteen

Summary:

Jack faces a reckoning at the White House, and we get a closer look at the Amity Park GSU HQ as two ghosts try to escape.

If You're Hoping For A Break...

He watched impassively as the last of the tanks disembarked from the Air Platforms. It had taken an hour after landing to get the final equipment and personnel out of the floating war centers, but finally he had no more excuses to put off meeting the F.B. He had been summoned before the President himself in an emergency meeting. He was looking forward to it as much as a root canal.

The determination and fire he’d been feeling as the sun set had solidified into a core of steel around his spine. This would be the battle of his career. “I can hear you cursing them out in your mind from over here Fenton.” Lt. Castle leaned in to whisper next to him.

“In every language I know, even that infernal Spectral bullshit.” Jack groused back. He suppressed a wince when leaning back to parade rest earned him a burst of protesting pain all through his ribs. He really should not have used that grenade, the fuck had he been thinking? “It’s not like I can hide in here forever; I’m sure they’ll bring a military escort to the facility if I take much longer.”

“Oh they wouldn’t dare. A bunch of jeeps with fatigued soldiers driving through the middle of D.C.? The last thing the President wants is to make things look more dire. D.C. loves to pretend it’s untouchable by war or danger, they wouldn’t give up the illusion just to drag you out of your kingdom.” Jill frowned. She sighed then and started to move away from the observation deck. “Come on Head Commander, we should go over some last details before we head to the White House.” She paused by the door when she noticed Jack still lingering.

“You’re not coming with me Jill.” He nearly whispered it, having just come to the conclusion firmly enough to say it out loud at all.

“Excuse me? In what universe would I let you face those vultures alone?”

“In the universe where I need you to be out of sight to avoid taking the blame.” He saw her beginning to work herself up for an argument, and cut her off at the pass, “Jillian, there’s a good chance they’re going to try and dismantle the agency.”

“Which is why I should be there! You know we’re unstoppable together.”

“I know we feel unstoppable together, that’s not the same thing as actually being invincible.” He groaned as his stiff protesting spine popped when he moved away from the observation window. “The President didn’t change the meeting with the Joint Chiefs to tonight because he wants a nice chat, or even a normal dressing down. If they only have one person in front of them to blame, then they’ll be happy to focus on them.”

“Jac—”

“The last time a mission went this badly on America soil, the President torpedo’d his career to protect mine. There needs to be a fall guy for this mess Lt. Castle, and they’re pissed enough to be glad to have two instead. I need you untouched after this bomb goes off. Someone I trust has to run this organization after I’m gone. I’m not convinced I can save my own career, but I will save the GSU.” He watched as she crossed her arms, still determined to argue this out with him.

“If we handle this meeting properly, no one’s career is going have to go up in smoke. Muller himself already said not a single person could have handled this operation better than us.”

“He thinks that at least…” He mumbled.

“It’s not just his opinion, any reasonable assessment of the situation will say the same. There’s no one else qualified to run this operation, and even if they want to cry about it, it’s not like they could do any better. Our job is to drive home into their useless skulls that truth.”

“Be that as it may, we both know politics isn’t about logic, it’s about feelings. They feel like someone has to be to blame for this clusterfuck, so they’ll string someone up regardless if it couldn’t have gone better. I need there to be fewer targets for their rage. Further,” he continued, barreling over her as soon as she opened her mouth, “there’s still all the post-battle data to go through, the forms to be signed to release bodies to families and inform them of the deaths, and I think you promised that pilot a proper chewing out earlier today.” His tone was lighter here, but he was no less firm. She wasn’t coming with him this time. He felt his shoulders tighten at the expression on her face. She still wanted to argue and he didn’t have the time for it. “Don’t make this an order Jill, please…”

The sigh she let out was resigned then, finally, “alright Fenton. But if I hear from some of those White House aides, that you just rolled over and made a fool of yourself in there, your career will be the least of your worries.” She half-limped over then to punch him on the arm. “Go get ‘em soldier.” With that, she walked out of the observation room, her uneven footfalls growing ever softer in the growing gloomy misery left with her retreat.

One fight down, the main event to go...He thought. He pulled up the last of the forms needing his signature on the digital screen before him, trying not to think of them as the last acts he’d have as the Head Commander of the GSU. A few minutes later, he was dressed in civvies, his comfortable ecto-suit traded for the much more mundane kind. He didn’t have time to do much more than wipe the worse of the grime off his face and hands. He still smelled of spent munitions’ smoke and the sharp ozone of anti-ectoplasm fire when he slid into the chauffeured car headed towards the heart of D.C. He hoped rolling down the window on the way to the meeting would blow off the worst of the stench. He might think of the smell as the glorious remnants of battle, but to the pencil pushing bureaucrats that ran the F.B, it was the smell of failure.

The car ride went by fast. He’d spent it with his head down reviewing the printouts of the battle’s summaries and the hastily cobbled together analysis of the worn-thin remaining officers. Several of them were completely useless, written by drained human beings who’d never had to write up a field report before, the consequences of all the field promotions. Luckily, several of his oldest officers had survived the battle, and given proper assessments...those weren’t any better than the inexperienced cruft he’d sifted through. They were more competently written, but all the competence in the world didn’t turn a disaster into a resounding victory. Still, their information was invaluable. General Birch especially liked to get into the nitty-gritty of individual team tactics and weapon’s usage.

He was a personnel person at heart, much like Jack Fenton himself, and so zeroed in on proper training and group tactics before technology or even larger command tactics. He thought if they’d met under different circumstances, they could’ve been proper colleagues, friends perhaps. But tonight, he was the enemy. The thought was grim and sour in his mind as he car pulled to a stop outside of the White House.

The omnipresent security around the President’s residence waved his car through, directing him around the back. At this time of night, the lights illuminating the front-facing façade of the building was more ominous than impressive, making hollowed out skulls of the faces of the men guarding the place. The stone faced watchers observing my solemn walk to the gallows. There were more Secret Service standing around than usual, the President likely aware of the way the light threw their faces into unforgiving relief. Now, he was amused; they were trying to intimidate him.

They still felt he had the upper hand on some level. Why else go through all the trouble to try and dampen his spirits? When he slid back out of the car and started up the walk to the back of the White House in the sticky warm D.C. summer air, his confidence only grew with every mean-mugging Secret Service agent milling around to greet him. He kept it in check, trying to conquer the feeling of misplaced confidence. They’d likely also reckoned Lt. Castle would be here. He reasoned. His assumption was rewarded when the aide standing at the door did a double take when only he appeared to be guided inside.

“Is the Deputy Commander not here? I didn’t think her injuries were so serious…” the aide trailed off, trying to further poison the well against the agency.

“Not at all, she’s in no danger health wise. But, someone must remain at HQ to continue the rest of the post-battle operations. There are officers to interview, masses of data to review, and since this meeting was called as an emergency, there hasn’t been time for any of the necessary procedures to be done between Colorado and D.C. She asks the President’s forgiveness for being unable to attend, but the wheels of military stops for no one.” He stepped inside to join the aide by their shoulder, neatly ignoring the lack of invitation. They’d already called him to this charnel house, he didn’t need to be invited directly.

“Er, yes—I mean of course we understood that before we called the meeting, but that is—that’s why the meeting was set for an hour after—”

“Yes?” Commander Fenton said cutting off the flustered aide, “and you all believe only an hour is needed to secure and disembark a thousand soldiers, and hundreds of individual pieces of highly sensitive equipment?” He clicked his tongue then and started walking down the hallway, deeper into the metaphorical lion’s den. “Perhaps that is one of the misconceptions I can clear up for the administration tonight.”

The aide didn’t respond again, trying to hide the tinge of pink coming to their cheeks by taking the lead in guiding the commander deeper into the building. For all its size, the White House was still intended to be a Residence on some level. This meant much of its interior was taken up with kitchens and bedrooms and ordinary sitting rooms. There were a few places suitable for large meetings though, and that’s where he was being led. He’d been through these halls several times.

The newest administration had...tacky tastes if he thought about it. It’s not like his spartanly decorated D.C. apartment had a lot going for it, but at least it didn’t come off both pretentious and kitschy at the same time. The President’s poor taste in all things trickled down into his politics in Jack’s opinion. He disliked the GSU, despite the huge scientific, military, political, and financial benefits it gave to the United States. Instead, he favored ostentatious displays like driving tanks down the street in military parades as shows of power and stability. That was what had gotten them on the President’s bad side originally. Secretary Birch had caved and given into the President’s childish desires for might displays, and he had told the man where to shove it...politely! Some grunt working as his secretary had worded the refusal, it had even been looked over by the Deputy Commander.

Unfortunately, refusing to use the country’s best military hardware for dick swinging displays of power to other nations had earned him the President’s ire. And with the easily led man possessing a cabinet full of more forceful personalities and sharper minds, the members of Capital Hill that always had it out for him happily used the President as a means to forward their agendas. He frowned then, thinking of General Welsh, and his petty dislike of the GSU based on it taking the best pilots. If the leader of the Air Force wanted better recruits, all he had to do was offer better benefits and prestige than the GSU. It’s not his fault flying in Earth’s atmosphere was less appealing than the cutting edge technology that allowed them to fly through the Zone.

Outside of Welsh and Birch, even the Secretary of State had it out for them, though his disagreements were more principled. The GSU had all the power of a branch of the military without being one. That sort of power without any real oversight or mandate by Congress spelled the potential for disaster. The agency had the most advanced technology in the country, and even he could admit his members were more akin to fanatic adherents than soldiers on some level.

Wanting to bring the GSU under closer control of an authorized branch of the military was completely understandable, if utterly ridiculous. There was already legislation going through both houses of Congress to officially establish the GSU as a separate branch of the military. Though it had stalled out recently as the aftermath of Austin loomed large in the public consciousness. Another reason Colorado needed to succeed, they needed more public goodwill, the passion of declaring the end to the War beginning to cool.

Jack smoothed out his face as a frown threatened to inch its way across it. Now was not the time to look unsure or weak. The aide stopped just outside of the door, waiting to be allowed to enter by the underpaid goons in suits the President employed instead of proper security. He’d decided to chose his own security, contravening tradition entirely, and the men—and they were all men— he picked were hulking mountains of flesh. They looked more like wrestler or body building champions than inconspicuous security, but such was the whims of the empty headed populist the country had elected. Besides, the President had told him, their guns were the real stopping power. It’s best they look intimidating instead of invisible. They left them hovering outside the door for some minutes. Before long, he realized it wasn’t a legitimate delay, but another attempt to demoralize him, make him feel trivial. Pathetic.

One of them spoke into a wrist communicator for a brief second, before touching something in his ear, and nodding. “The President and Joint Chiefs will see you now Mr. Fenton.” Mr. Fenton. Oh yes, they were definitely trying to demean him now.

He nodded at the bulky body guard who’d addressed him, and waited for the aide to either step aside or open the door. Neither happened. Instead, the door moved inwards, opened from the other side by another intern or lackey they made stay late for this meeting. He waited the time needed to allow the smaller aide to move, before striding inside with a calm even gait. Into the first circle...He thought with some amusement. It was a good analogy. After all, Dante returned intact eventually…

Inside the spacious interior of the meeting room was a truly unreasonable number of people. He’d been expecting the Joint Chiefs of Staff and their secretaries, maybe some aides for the President himself, and some consultants. This? It was like the audience to the Salem Witch Trials; every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the White House seemed crammed inside to witness the downfall of the Great Jack Fenton.

He took in the mass of staring eyes impassively. It would take more than an audience to rattle him.

“Mr. Fenton, glad you could finally join us.” So General Birch was leading the charge? Not too surprising considering the man’s current political pull, still, an annoyance. He’d been hoping Secretary Muller would have had more influence.

“As I’m sure the Chiefs are aware, disembarking procedures for a convoy of that size takes some time. I saw to my duties and joined the meeting here as soon as feasible.” A good opening, if he said so himself. Or he thought, before he saw Birch’s negative sneer.

“Surely, after the destruction wrought by the hybrids in Colorado on your equipment and soldiers there wasn’t much to oversee for disembarking.”

A cold way to start this meeting. “Though we lost several Air Platforms, most of our personnel and all of our tanks survived the encounter. They all had be shepherded safely back to HQ and properly organized for repair and any needed medical aid.”

“But, Commander,” Welsh’s turn then, “weren’t most of damaged equipment left in Suffolk in the repair depot?”

“A fair question General Welsh. Though the most damaged of our Air Platforms were left in Suffolk to begin repairs, two were still fully operational and landed in D.C with the remainder of the crew, tanks, jets, ect.”

“If you lost that much equipmen—”

“I hate to interrupt you General Welsh,” he didn’t really, “but our Air Platforms are built with a significant amount of volume redundancy. They are capable of handling a 60% increase in typical operational mass when fully operational. Even having to collapse the remainder of the crew into two platforms, it was tight quarters, though equivalent to approximately five Platforms operating at typical capacity.” So having defused that particular landmine, he turned to address the rest of the amassed senior staff in the room. “Naturally, this fight was not without casualties, however, they were not so severe as to deplete all of the Air Platforms we left with. We are still counting to be absolutely sure, but preliminary counts puts the loss of life at 257. A blow, but a less than 20% casualty rate.”

“18% Mr. Fenton. You can appreciate the seriousness of that death rate.”

“Perhaps more than you General Birch, I saw to the training of many of those GSU members personally.”

“Then maybe you can explain the tactical failings that lead to their deaths, being so intimately familiar with their training?”

Birch was being a hard-ass, but he wasn’t so easily quelled. “Well, it’s hard to avoid the wing of a fighter jet being suddenly flung on top of you from above, or the crush of steel when two Air Platforms are forced into each other by unnatural powers.” He enjoyed the slight paling of the man’s face when he realized the state the bodies must be in from those incidents. Good. He hated the implication his brave men and women were simply incompetent instead of unlucky enough to be caught in an impossible to avoid crash.

“B-Be that as it may, I’m sure you are reviewing the specifics of the battle to shore up any failings. I saw a preliminary report that there was some evidence of ghost possession?”

Jack’s mouth did quirk into a brief frown then. Someone in his organization had loose lips that needed zipping. “That incident is still under intense investigation. It does not seem to be a typical possession.”

“You can’t even train your men to avoid possession Fenton?” Secretary Fitzgerald spoke up then, spitefully poking in from the peanut gallery.

“I think a few members of Staff are laboring under some misapprehensions as to the nature of possession.” Muller. Finally. “Ghost possession isn’t a matter of free will. They use their ecto-powers to override your self-control with their consciousness. There’s no way to avoid it through simple training. Though some mental training has been shown to increase awareness during and after possession, it doesn’t give the person being possessed any more control.” The Secretary stared down the rest of the most senior members of the room then, willing them to marinate in their own ignorance for a spell.

“Well—you—how does your personnel avoid possession all the time when fighting ghosts?!” Fitzgerald sounded incensed then, half from the embarrassment of being so thoroughly reprimanded, half from his line of questioning being waylaid.

“Our ecto-suits usually prevent the intrusion of any ecto-being’s consciousness from interacting with or overlaying with our own. They’ve been specifically designed just for that purpose, which is why I said the incident is under review. To be frank with you gentlemen, it wasn’t a single person who was behaving erratically, but an entire squadron.” He paused to let the gravity of the number of people involved sink in before continuing, “that is far above the maximum number of people under possession we’ve ever recorded in any encounter, let alone controlled by a single entity.”

“But they were behaving erratically?”

“Yes. Our current leading theory is that this is an extension of Second Priority’s… powers over water. It’s demonstrated recently an increase to its abilities. The ecto-hydromancy, if the culprit, would explain the widespread effects and why the suits were less effective.”

“In what way Commander?”

It was nice to be referred to by his proper title. It seemed to have come out of Birch accidentally, an amusing sign of his deferring to his expertise. “Our polymer suits are designed to detect and repel ectoplasmic… “consciousness” let’s say. Their consciousness gives off a very specific and consistent ecto-electric signature. The suits produce a counter signal that prevents possession from happening. It also repels higher densities of ecto-energy, which prevents damage from their ecto-blasts and other attacks. However, it would be impossible to filter out all concentrations of ecto-energy and produce tactically viable suits.” He stopped then to take in their confused expressions. “The suits would be stiff immovable bricks instead of pliable polymer, even medieval suits of armor had movable joints. Concentrations under a certain amount aren’t even harmful to human cells, and so there’s no point in filtering it out...or so we thought. If Second Priority’s powers have mutated the way implied by this last encounter, we’ll have to re-think our suit designs.”

“A constant of this organization, a failure to properly account for the dangers of the hybrids.” A feminine voice spoke from near the President’s side.

Triple damn. Why is Claudia Hying here? You’d think the seriousness of the security clearance needed for this meeting would preclude the harpy from darkening my evening. Jack groused, while turning to face his most serious adversary of the night. The other members of the Joint Chiefs might have personal animosity towards him, but they were military men. They understood or could be made to understand the calculus of battle. Hying though, she was pure F.B., all congressional appointed civvie. “I think we’d require the ability to see into the future to predict this level of hydromancy Ms. Hying.”

“Be that as it may, this is a footnote in the larger tale of inadequacy of the organization on the hybrid topic. But, was it not Second Priority’s ‘hydromancy’ that allowed it to escape your facility in Austin.”

“Theoretically, but it should not have been able to use those powers with the suppressant cuffs we had on it.”

“Then you have another much more serious piece of equipment failure to consider. Are those not the same cuffs you typically use to control ghosts in general?”

Gods above if he did not hate this woman. He could never catch the smallest break when she was involved. “We use a different specialized series meant to prevent them from transforming at all. If we used similar on ordinary ghosts, it would kill them with how strongly it suppresses spectral energy. Of course, we realized there was a flaw in the design after it escaped Austin. The cuffs only prevent them from manifesting their ecto-energy externally, which stops their transformations of course. But the first design didn’t stop them from activating their spectral cores. In as non-ectobiology an explanation as possible, it’s like a device that stops you from moving while allowing the internal contraction of your muscles running your heart or bowels to continue. We thought without being able to manifest their powers, they would be harmless.” “Clearly not—”

“—Indeed, we didn’t realize it could energize and control its own blood enough to pull it out of its eyes and use as a weapon.” Several of the generals squirmed at the imagery, but Hying looked unphased. “The generation two devices are much more thorough, though they’ll require internal implantation, they’ll prevent their cores from activating without our control.”

“Why would you need them to turn on?”

“Fascinating question Chairmen Jefferson, the simplest explanation is for scientific research. Hybrid cores are very much unlike normal ghost’s, allowing them to continue to grow in power seemingly indefinitely, among other horrifying abilities. Additionally, we think several of these hybrids are...natural. Plasmius produces them not through exposure to high levels o—”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’d love to get us distracted into the minutiae of spectral science to distract us from the failings of your organization to capture these beasts, but I’m sure the biology lessons can wait for another time Mr. Fenton.” Claudia neatly interrupted his diversion with a predatory smile. “Now, let’s discuss the equipment loss from this excursion.” She stops to shuffle a few papers around, purely for show, before humming and continuing, “if I’ve done my math correctly, the total sum of lost equipment and munitions totals over 500 million dollars?” She phrased it like a question, but there was no inquisitiveness or doubt in her tone.

“That is close to correct. A preliminary accounting puts the losses at around 490 million, subject to further investigation of course. It can be hard to pin a number of these things so soon after an engagement.”

“Of course,” she simpered, looking back at him from across the table with an artfully crafted sympathetic downturn of her lips. “There’s a lot to take account of in the aftermath of such a poorly executed mission, so let’s say 500 million is a close estimate for the final tally.” He knew this tactic, making it sound like she was doing him a favor by choosing a number closer to his estimate. The witch. “Even saying so, that’s a lot of money, or well, equipment to replace. Even assuming you have the slack in your budget to finance such a sudden loss, there’s the fact your equipment is specialty. It has to be ordered months or even years in advance for some parts.”

“We have a stockpile of all regulation equipment lost in the encounter.”

“Regulation? I’m sorry Mr. Fenton, you just have Air Platforms laying around in wait?”

“The Platforms, no, but jets, munitions, guns, the vast majority of equipment lost. We are an operation that deals in battle, and every military man knows your need surplus ammunition and guns.” He finished then with a quick glance around the room to gauge the general’s moods. So far so good…

“I see. So you’d be down only some specialty equipment...and personnel of course! Then I imagine you’d be spending most of your time and money to replace and train people and to replace…?”

“Eight Air Platforms, and five dozen Levitators, plus one dozen tanks, and several hundred rounds of more specialized munition,” he answered, struggling to keep the crossness out of his voice. He hated details like this, but he also knew she knew that. Trying to get him riled up was definitely part of her strategy to undermine him.

“Some of those pieces of equipment seem regulation to me? Like the tanks for instance—”

“They are not US military issue tanks, their plating and design are specialized to withstand bombardment from all but the most powerful ecto-attacks. They are a re-design of the ones used by the Army, and no Ms. Hying, not the ones used during the War. The only thing close to regulation on the list is the Levitators, but even those are a specialized re-design of the hovercraft the Air Force got from us after the War.” He reached down then to open his brief case, and placed a few papers onto the table in front of him. “If you’d be so kind to pass this along,” he said while handing them to an aide hovering about, “you can see for yourself which items are regulation or specialized and how many we’ve lost by current estimate. Keep it, of course, I have plenty of copies.”

“I’m sure.” Claudia frowned down at the white sheaf of paper, before smiling blandly back at him. “I’m glad your accounting hasn’t suffered any since, from my understanding, most of the causalities were in officers?”

“That...is true. This enemy tends to target leaders of squadrons preferentially—”

She snickered, interrupting him, “you’ve noticed then? Because after Austin and, ah, Amity there was a similar culling of the ranks. One must wonder what your lower ranked soldiers think after a promotion.” Her smile was sharp then, relishing in his tightened shoulders and slight scowl. “How do you plan on replacing this many officers? You have plenty of grunts, assuredly, but from my understanding of your organization’s structure, you expect squadron leaders to head expeditions in the Zone and they need a certain amount of hours to even qualify for a proper promotion.”

“Our bench is deep—”

“Oh please, do not give me sports analogies Mr. Fenton, I like data. Neat. Concrete. Factual. And, do be concise, you can get bogged down in pointless details in your enthusiasm.”

She could smell blood, he could tell, and now she was biting at him. Another glance around the room gave him a variety of patient, expectant faces. They were happy to let her lead the discussion it seemed. Easier for a bureaucrat to get away with it. “Naturally, we’ve had to make emergency field promotions, however after the initial assessments are finished post battle, we’ll be using normal promotion regulations.” He noticed Hying frown and look to interrupt him, so he started up again, “I understand that narrows down our potential options for replacing officers, so we will be scaling back Zone expeditions and making transfers from other facilities across the US as needed. Many of the lowest ranked officers have suitable replacements from willing and capable privates who needed only a position to be opened for them. For the higher ranked officers, approximately 25 positions, you’ll forgive the inexactness, we are still counting the bodies, we’ll use transfers and reduced Zone surveys to fill them until next year. Genuinely, my organization is blessed with many capable men and women who could be officers, but not enough positions. I am more concerned with refilling our lowest ranks since so many ‘grunts’,” and he did stop for bitter sarcastic air quotes around the word, “are going to be officers now. It’s not our typical recruiting season. So our officers will be pulling double duty until we can finish recruiting into the lower ranks.”

“You really think so many of your men are qualif—”

“If you disagree Ms. Hying, you’re free to attend, look through every prospective officer’s qualifications, and sit in on their interviews yourself. It will be a long process, with slightly over 100 roles to be filled, but you’re a focused and determined woman, I’m sure you’d manage.” He enjoyed the frustration blooming across her features as she realized this wasn’t the weakness she’d assumed.

“I’m glad you have procedures in places since this is such a regular issue for your organization.” She was retreating now, trying to find the smell of blood she’d lost.

“All military operations have regulations in place for both field promotions and recovery after such a loss; we do no less.” He noticed the calm nods from the generals around the room, understanding the necessity of such preparations well. It had been a long while since humanity warred with itself, with everyone so focused on the War with the Zone. But since it had ended, previously simmering tensions were coming back to a boil. There was talk of another gulf war...He found it as amusing it was as pointless. His own facilities ran on the near inexhaustible fuel from the Zone, oil was primitive and outdated. An argument for another time. “Members, I understand this was a disappointing engagement, but even loss is not without benefits. Our recovery team also gained access to the technology Plasmius was forced to abandon, including some of its shielding technology. Our technicians are already reverse engineering it.”

“You’d previously said that was impossible.” General Muller, pitching him a slow ball. Hying was shuffling paper about, bidding her time for another attack.

“It would be without access to some of its components, humanity simply has nothing similar in production globally. It was an unexplored avenue, how to hide ecto-energy, but not suppress it. We didn’t get access to the shields it uses to hide itself and its spawn’s nest, but we did find something much more interesting.” He paused to let the intrigue build, only to have Hying kill his building mood.

“I’m sure the Chiefs would prefer facts over your attempts at theater Mr. Fenton.” He hated that damnable woman.

“Of course, merely a break for breath,” he dismissed her charge easily. “We gained components and some blueprints for items that are portable miniaturized shields. Think small enough to wear, and light enough to be mistaken for an accessory,” he explained when he got only blank stares back. “The reason this is so enlightening is previous to this, we haven’t been able to track them. The Chiefs are aware we have their DNA imprinted into all of our global ghost monitoring satellites. I’m sure you’ve wondered how they’ve hidden despite this considering how sensitive they are, so have we. We have part of an answer. The devices are capable of filtering or shielding their energy before it exists their bodies. This will make them not only appear human to our satellites, but also the scanners that exist in stores and checkpoints around the country. As long as they change their appearance and falsify documents, they could pass as ordinary humans while wearing them. It is our belief now that there is a two tiered system of shielding, one they wear and another to hide their nesting areas from our satellites.”

“Is this why they only show up briefly on tracking systems?”

“Yes, we believe so. If the wearable device fails, or is temporarily offline, then they’d be visible to the satellites when outside of their nest. Plasmius is devious and likely carries back-ups to prevent this, but even it can’t think of everything.”

“This is all fascinating ecto-biology minutiae, but how does it help us capture these dangerous creatures?” Hying was back, chomping at the bit for another attack.

He did smile then, happy she walked right into his trap for once. “I’m glad you asked Ms. Hying. Now that we can reverse engineer the devices, we can update our systems, the ones running the satellites and the local scanners. Even if we can’t find their ecto-energy, there is no way these devices do not give off energy, a unique signature only the hybrids would have, as good as scanning their ecto-signature directly. It will take a few months, but very soon, we’ll have destroyed one of their biggest defenses.” He did pause for a sip of water, and dramatics, but the harpy wouldn’t be satisfied without a ready excuse. “That will leave them only their nest to hide in, and even then on borrowed time. The reason they move so often is to avoid our satellites triangulating their position from anomalies in ambient spectral energy readings. Once they are unable run and hide, it will only be a matter of time until—.”

“Until you have another disastrous, death filled engagement with them. Yes, I’m sure America can’t wait for another spectacular failure to be broadcast over their evening news.” Her tone cut through his bravado.

“With all due respect Ms. Hying, I’m sure with the time to prepare this affords the GSU—”

“Yes, but Plasmius was unprepared this time, and didn’t have time to feel backed into a corner. I have it on good authority animals are at their most dangerous with nothing to lose.” She smiles blandly at Secretary Muller, and turns her sharp red grin back towards him. “How would this theoretical engagement be any better than this last one, or any of the others for that matter?”

He did sigh then, put off by her relentless characterization of his organization as incompetent. “The reason the encounters are so deadly is because they are so few and far between. I can see you working up an objection, save it for a moment.” He knew it sounded hostile, but he was done caring. “These creatures must produce their energy themselves. The more time they have between assaults, the more they recover, and the more dangerous they are. If we are able to stay on them and they can’t recover, they will soon be no more dangerous than the average human against lasers and heavy armaments.”

“So your argument is that you haven’t had enough lopsided loses against them, and if you were just given more chances, it would somehow turn in your favor?”

“That’s the most uncharitable interpretation of my statement you could have made.”

“Is it untrue?”

“Yes!” He hissed incensed. “They only recover .075nFentons of energy a minute when completely drained. It takes two whole nFentons of energy to fire even the weakest of ecto-blasts. That means it takes them nearly half an hour to power a single ecto-blast. But this energy gain is compounding. All spectral energy builds on itself in cubic amounts. The weaker they are the slower they regain energy, and the easier it is to drain them further. In a war of attrition we win easily. We just have to stay on them, and it will be like fighting a kitten. Plasmius knows this. That is why its main tactic is to run and hide. Time is on their side, not ours. The longer it takes to capture them, the more their unholy powers grow and mutate. The more time they have to recover, the faster they do and the more powerful they are in the next confrontation. Do you understand now Ms. Hying, or do I have to explain it further for you?” Ok. So that last comment was definitely hostile; he’d have to calm himself before his rage made him misspeak.

“Oh, thank you. That explanation was enlightening. I understand now why your organization has a habit of continuing pursuit even when stretched thin on troops, even some of your decisions during the War make more sense now. Perhaps, I should give ecto-biology a more thorough study.” She was being placating now. Great. Now he looked even more unreasonable, out of control. I really should have brought Jill. She’s much better at handling this woman than I am.

“My field has many nooks and crannies, and the particulars of hybrid ecto-biology is niche, even as they plague humanity. It’s not something that would come up in a cursory study, or even graduate level studies to be clear. I’m not surprised you hadn’t considered the implications, I’ve had to explain them to the Joint Chiefs before. It is the nature of being a subject matter expert.” There. Placating...mostly.

“Understandable why you might feel a little irked by someone with the equivalent of a quick Bing Bong search asking uninformed questions about your subject.” She was retreating again, and the meeting was turning around. Now, all he needed was a slam dunk, and he could likely steer this completely under his control. Three quick chirps rang out into the room from his briefcase. His work cell. No one would dare interrupt this meeting without the world basically being on fire. He stiffened under the silent stares of the meeting’s attendees. They knew it too.

“Are you going to get that? There must be some emergency at HQ.” Ms. Hying’s shark smile was back with a vengeance, thirsty for a turn in her favor.

“If no one minds?” He’s already reaching for the phone, the question merely a courtesy. “Head Commander here.” He nodded as a communications expert on the other ended explained a contact made between one of the hybrids and a civilian. They were breathless. The details were beyond intriguing. The new hybrid had been in contact with an Amity resident. She was sure she could replicate the contact. The more details the technician gave, the more his smile grew. This was perfect, an answer to all of their prayers. He nodded a final time, and hung up the phone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve just received some excellent news. A civilian has had contact with one of the hybrids and says they can replicate it. Calm down a moment! We mean over a phone or computer, not in person!” Jack waved his hands at the shouting group around him, corralling them into something resembling calm again. “Of course, we’d never put a civilian into harms way, even to capture America’s greatest enemies. The contact would be remote only, but they are sure the hybrid will respond.”

“What makes them so sure?”

“I cannot give details at this time, we are triple checking their claims, but I can say they say the hybrid feels indebted to them and trusts them.”

“These creatures don’t have feelings.” General Birch then, his voice filled with venom.

He chuckled, before addressing the man, “I agree in principle, but all ghosts have their habits, their obsessions. They are devoted to them onto ‘death’. In the case of the hybrids, they are very convinced of their humanity, to the point of imitating emotion and desire for human connection. They will form ‘friendships’ or ‘repay debts’ the way a human will, because it is their obsession to behave humanly, and ghosts always satisfy their obsessions.” His smile was predatory then, already thinking of the trap he would set. Willing contact made setting one so much easier…

“If you’re so sure, can use this obsession to your advantage?” The Secretary of State then, implicitly asking after the details for capture.

“We are sure they are still well out of populated cities. As long as we can confront them somewhere remote, I’d feel comfortable with another confrontation.”

“So soon?”

“General Welsh, I believe Commander Fenton has already explained that quirk of hybrid biology?” Ms. Hying, to his complete surprise. “Having said that, I’m sure with them so weakened, capturing them is within the organization’s abilities?” Of course, even her gifts were poisoned. With the hybrids so impaired, if they failed to capture even one, the GSU would be going under, even accounting from recovering from this recent battle.

“I’m sure all of them is too steep an ask so soon after a major engagement.” Muller, his only ally, but he was making it worse this time.

“Oh! I’m not a military woman myself. Perhaps all of them is too much. One or two then?” She offered, hands spread wide in a supplicating gesture.

“Ms. Hying is right, you should be able to manage a few, at least one, if they are as battered as your reports suggested.” The Joint Chiefs were all nodding in agreement with the Secretary of State. He’d dug his own grave on this one. Backing out would make him and even the organization itself look weak.

“Of course! I look forward to sharing the details of capture with you all afterwards.”

“See that you do.” The only words the President had said the entire meeting. The only ones that mattered. God help me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amity Park, Michigan; 12.43am; May 6th, 2005

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bustling city of Amity Park was more subdued than usual. The damage from the last ghost attack left debris all over, but it was especially concentrated downtown. Chunks of stone still sat pushed away from the middle of the road, and where they’d landed on top of buildings. Most of the worst had been cleared so that daily life could continue, but even though the ghost danger level had been lowered when the GSU had concluded the hybrid had moved on, the human residents were still hunkering down. Few left their homes for anything less than work or shopping for essentials, and parents flinched when they had to drop off their children for school, the tragedy of the last big incident in Amity looming large in the citizen’s collective consciousness. Still, the GSU never slept, and with increased patrols and a larger presence on the streets, the people of Amity were beginning to relax.

One such GSU grunt drove in for his shift at the main facility. He usually worked the beat, but with the recent attack, he’d been assigned back to the facility. The people wandering around still were imported from other cities. There originally had been a concern this was a break out attempt, the hybrid had walked right up to the facility door after all, but after it escaped, his superiors were left stumped. Unwilling to risk a breach so soon after an attack, or even the whiff of it being possible, they’d re-assigned their beat officers to the inside of the facility and transferred people over to stand around looking important on street corners. He huffed as he passed another foreign GSU member waving to him from his vehicle. He didn’t hate them, he loved his fellow soldiers, but watching them soak up the local’s attention and still not know how to best give them comfort a way a true Amity Parker would frustrated him. Posturing on some street corner was worse than seeing them marching in formation and doing drills in the park or even rescuing cats from trees. But, local grunts like him had lost this argument with the officers, and so now he was coming in in the middle of the night to check on the ghosts they already had collared.

He’d heard there was action, real action, out in Colorado. People had gone to confront the monsters filling the good people of Amity’s nightmares, and he was jockeying some desk. Not literally of course, only officers had any real paperwork to fill out, but it was the principle of the thing! He sighed again as he parked his car, slamming the door when it bounced back out of place. The piece of garbage he drove was a hold over from college, from before he’d gotten this great job with the GSU. It’d been worth delaying. It was faster and easier advancing with a college degree than without. Some of his friends signed up straight out of high school five or so years ago, right before the shit in Amity went down. He’d lost some of them. Truth be told, he’d been trying to avoid the vortex that GSU recruiting could be in his hometown, heading to college somewhere else had been his idea of an escape. After though, he realized there was no escaping ghosts. He’d felt safe after the War. Now he was determined to make the world truly safe.

The door to the GSU HQ greeted him, the hum of their electronic security a warm familiar tune to his ears. He held up his government issued tabtop, and it flashed twice, connecting to the local network. Everything in the GSU facility was isolated as a rule, though they had little to worry about in terms of hacking attempts. Other countries mostly respected their technological prowess and didn’t engage in espionage against them, especially when the GSU shared everything safe almost as soon as it was developed. The Head Commander said he defended humanity and not just the United States. Their advances were to be shared freely.

Still, an abundance of caution never hurt. He leaned into the hand scanner so it could read his prints and smiled when the door slid open. He didn’t know what that nasty creature had been thinking; this place was more secure than the bunker that protected the president in case of a nuclear strike. There was no way it could get inside.

He waved to the guard on duty who grunted in response. Agent Johnson wasn’t a man of many words, but nothing got past him. He heard rumors the man once sniffed out a pen capable of taking pictures from inside the pocket of some bureaucrat without even touching or scanning the guy. When asked, Johnson had said the man had looked guilty or something. No one tried him.

He nodded to the second set of guards as he rounded another corner deeper in the facility, leaning closer this time to scan his eye as well as his palm. The retina scanners were now standard after some crazy shape-shifting ghost was discovered two years back. It fed on human misery the disgusting fucker. It had been in a reporter, an investigative journalist. It also had somehow been licensed as a therapist. He had no idea how that shit worked. They’d found it in a region being decimated by famine, the whole of the country was suffering a drought so severe it culled food crop production.

When it messed up and possessed someone else; it had been close enough to the US embassy to wherever the fuck country to ping the GSU standing guard. It’d panicked, possessed one of the grunts, jumping inside them once unconscious, and tried to enter the embassy. One of the other security measures deeper in finally caught it, but reviewing the incident, they were sure retina scanners would have stopped it from getting that far.

He nodded to the third set of guards, a pair of women nicknamed ‘Thelma’ and ‘Louise’, in that they were definitely best friends, probably dating, and super deadly. It was a shame; his sister had been begging him to hook her up with a cute girl from the GSU and well, he was a tech really. Talking to people was hard and girls harder and doing so long enough to find out if they also liked girls? Ugh! He had to talk to Thelma and Louise though, so he’d thought it was prime opportunity.

He thought he should stop being such a coward about this as the final door that leads into the innards of the GSU facility opened. He was in his twenties now, and a year of GSU training had put some muscle on him. Girls! Not hard. He could do it! He owed his sister for pitching in for college tuition after his Amity specific micro-grants had dried up right after the incident, and he’d been short for that year. The least I can do, he thought while making his first sweep of this layer of the facility, is hook her up with a cutie’s phone number. He frowned as a couple ghosts scrunched up away from the forward part of their cages, flinching away from the ectoranium infused plexiglass lining the front of them.

It made his job harder, assessing their condition. They had to do visual as well as scanner inspections. Apparently, some issues showed up visually before it did on the scanner. Whatever. The couple extra seconds per cage was an annoyance, having to flash on the bright overhead lights to get a good look. The things hated it, but it was for their own good. The ones on this level were weak, level four or so, and recently captured, so they just needed a little training. He finished his first round of inspections, and continued down a set of stairs and to another retina scanner and print checking door. He walked through an energy scanner on the other side, spending a couple seconds being beeped at to be sure none of the ghosts on the previous level had possessed him, despite his spandex, and continued when he heard the “all-clear” beep.

The ghosts down here weren’t especially dangerous either, just more well trained. They stepped closer to the glass like good dogs. It made this level much faster than the previous, and in just another few minutes, he was being scanned again. The ghosts down here though...He thought grumpily. While they weren’t the most powerful in the facility, they were troublesome. The scientists claimed they possessed imprints of human consciousness, partial ones anyway. So they talked, screamed, made demands, begged. It was so fucking obnoxious. One of them whimpered and asked if they could be friends, another made box based threats. He was used to the two of them, they were basically ignorable at this point. They’d just recently gotten a transfer from the facility in Florida, near the Everglades, in trade for one of their ghosts. This one claimed to be a warden of some type, made vague threats about how we’d pay for treating ‘him’ this way. It wasn’t very powerful, but the threats it made...sometimes he’d wondered if it hurt humans the way it described cutting them into pieces. It seemed too visceral, too real. He passed a few more wailing and unwilling assets, before going through the rigmarole of the scanners again along with another check of his tabtop. The ghosts in level four were stronger and had much more dangerous abilities, unique shit like summoning fire and ice or something.

He passed the shape-shifting ghost that had made the GSU install the eye scanners to begin with. It was in its shadow form, having given up on convincing them it was a trapped human and this was all a mistake. It still tried sometimes, but less and less often. He then passed a creature with a muzzle. This one could breath fire. Another few cages, one with a creature shouting temptation at whoever would pass. That one was in a sound proof cage. It could, theoretically, make ‘wishes’ come true like a genie. And like a traditional genie, those wishes always turned out badly. It was responsible for an incident in California and another in Japan before it was captured. The destruction had been horrifying, he’d seen the pictures. It had brought Japan into the ghost hunting game, their summer festival of wishes was now a memorial holiday.

One last floor. He thought, satisfaction at the captured specters, with their fearful eyes pitifully staring at him, thrumming through his veins. It wasn’t as good as a hunt, but looking at their trophies was an adequate substitute. He hadn’t gotten his uncle’s desire to mount deer heads before joining the GSU. The final floor of the facility, past levels five and six that were non-containment, held some of the most powerful and dangerous enemies of humanity. Nearly all of the most dangerous were no longer in Amity after the incident years ago, transferred to Austin and DC. Some of the creatures were too feral, fragile, or horrible to be safely transferred though. The remaining dragon ghosts were among them. He’d only seen them transformed once, watching the footage released during the War by the GSU when he was a teen. Their humanoid ghost guises were much less deadly, but by God had their ‘leader’ been a terror. It was the Head Commander slaying that thing when backed into a corner that made a couple of his friends sign up out of high school…

He stood in front of the last set of cages, poking idly at his tabtop. It was fritzing again, the damn thing. This deep in the facility, the wifi didn’t work great too much concrete and metal in the way. He poked a little longer, switching it to the local network for just this level, and sighed in relief when it stopped freezing up. It was a pain to switch for just this level, but everyone did it, annoying as it was. He stood in front of the third to last door, the little green ghost inside floating, looking innocuous, inside its cage. It didn’t have a collar, unlike every other ghost in the facility. It was only a level 3, the thing would evaporate if left in the Human World on its own. That’s not why it was down here. Despite the pitiful amount of ecto-energy, it had human level intelligence, maybe slightly above human if the tests were to believed.

It was capable of controlling technology, and was capable of human speech. Worse of all, it had been caught using tools...building things. Ignored pieces of electronic scrap or wires turned into weapons under its focused efforts. Because losing track of a ghost this weak would be easy, and because of how creative it was when it came to making tools, it was here, at the bottom of the facility in level seven. He frowned when it ignored his tapping, trying to get it to turn around so he could finish the visual inspection. He sighed and tapped his tabtop instead, determined to finish the scan and then go back to coaxing the little asshole into behaving. This time the worthless thing turned off. He was about to curse his luck and check its battery, he...never really charged it, when it turned back on. It flashed a bunch of rainbow hues, screen glitching and fragmenting.

“Oh god damn it no!” He’d been putting off a needed system update for...ok maybe three months was too long. The abused piece of electronics was now making sad noises like some old dial up modem and flashing like it was trying to give him a seizure. “Please, please, you’re like the third one. I’m gonna get my pay docked if I break another one of you!” The first two were just bad luck, a drop into the family pool with the dog carrying it in her mouth, and kicking it off his nightstand in his apartment during a night terror, but this time...It finally stopped flashing and the screen cleared to the home screen. He poked it tentatively, everything seemed fine now.

Maybe he’d do that update right now. I’m on the least used network and everything, so it shouldn’t take so long. He reasoned before lifting up the taptop to get a little more signal. This time it flashed bright blue once, and something flew out of it into the cage’s electronic keypad. He jumped back, carefully cradling the poor neglected tabtop to his chest. “Oh God, don’t start sparking! Come the fuck on!” He looked down distressed at its now blackened screen, ignoring the flashing now going on the cage’s keypad.

When he looked back up, the keypad was back to normal. He turned away from the cage, trying desperately to reboot his taptop. When he turned back once more, he had just a second to panic at the bright glowing green heading for his eyes, before everything went black.

Skulker huffed, looking down into the face of the dumb GSU grunt he’d just knocked unconscious. “It took you long enough to show yourself Technus.” He turned away from the human on the ground to glare at the keypad in front of his cell.

The technology obsessed ghost materialized from within, hovering just in front of the keypad to sneer down at Skulker. “If I’d have appeared any sooner, the security systems would have caught me! Did you wanna get out of that cage or not?” He zipped back inside of the keypad, interest refocused on the wires and circuits inside. “It takes a lot of ecto-energy to manipulate this stuff now you know! Only an absolute genius, such as myself, could have the know-how and power to have freed you.”

“Yes, yes, the genius master of all technology, worship me, blah blah blah. If you’re done singing your own praises, you could help me locate my Suit, so we can be on our way.”

“Sheesh, so impatient! These things take time.” The electronic beeping coming from the keypad sped up in frequency. “I’ve almost hacked my way into the local network, after that, figuring out where your precious ‘suit’ is will be a piece of—” An alarm, loud and shrill, blared through their level of the prison. “I, uh, I’ve got that…”

“I don’t have time for your bumbling, and we don’t have room for mistakes.” Skulker ran towards the abandoned tabtop and levered it upright with some effort. “Get in.” He ordered.

“But, it’s so cramped in there. Do you know it’s been six months since he ran a defrag on that thing?” The alarm increased up in pitch and a flashing red light came out of the ceiling.

“Get in the damn tabtop and turn off this alarm Technus.”

“Alright, alright, but you’re finding me a better hiding spot after this.” With another grumble about the lack of organization, Technus jumped from the keypad and into the tabtop. It took a second to silence and then reset the alarm, and two seconds more to convince the system that it had been a false alarm.

“Why didn’t you just do that from inside the tabtop?”

“Skulker, what part of no defrag is confusing you? It looks like a tornado went off in here. I’m gonna have disconnected bytes stuck to my coat for weeks because of hovering around inside. You should be more grateful that I, Technus, have come to rescue you at all, let alone thinking you should be able to demand I stay in this disorganized prison of…”

Skulker began tuning out the other ghost’s ramblings, deciding to peer around at the cages on this level. There wasn’t anyone he could free down here, just yet, but he’d promised his and Technus’ backer that’d he’d catalog the max security level’s ghosts. “Hey, are you listening to me?”

“No.”

“Well! Maybe I should just leave you here you—”

“Technus, you know you’re not allowed to do that. Now, look into their network and see where they’re keeping my Suit so we can get out of here.” Skulker huffed when the tabtop flashed a series of rude emojis at him. Obnoxious arrogant ass. “Please, oh great and powerful Technus, help me locate my technology so I can be of service to you.” He could not find his Suit fast enough. If I have to lick boots any longer, my tongue will forever taste of rubber and dirt.

“Ya’ see? Was it so hard to ask nicely?” He felt his face scrunch up, irritation bubbling around in his core at the asskissing. “Bad news buddy, your battlesuit has been dismantled.” This time he couldn’t keep the frustration to just facial expressions, a litany of curses flying off his tongue. He sighed, and glared up at the ceiling towards a random Technus possessed camera.

“So, where are the pieces then?”

“Oh, totally scrapped. Some of it they melted down, others they used as components to build new guns. Huh,” he stopped to look at a particular file about the storage section of facility, “well there are still a few pieces here and there. Most of the good stuff has been trashed or broken down for study though.”

“Great. Fantastic. Is there good news?”

“There’s great news actually. We can rebuild you a better one from the tech they have laying around.” At the narrowed looked crossing the other ghost’s face, he elaborated. “Oh yeah the humans scrapped your stuff, but they did like studying it a lot. Looks like they have upgraded versions of all the pieces of your tech in storage or labs all around the facility. We can stick those pieces together, and then—”

“Technus,” Skulker started, aggrieved, “I don’t just possess technology like you do. The equipment has to be in a state where I can control it from a central hub. If I have to construct it all, that will take hours at best, days more likely. You think we can linger around here long enough to—”

“Don’t cut me off! I was going to tell you, that they made the pieces modular. They snap into each other. I think they are trying to imitate your battlesuit for humans, but doing it stupid-like.”

“Why didn’t you just lead with that?”

“You never let me finish anything, I was literally about to—”

A pained groan from the human laying between them got their attention. He stirred, briefly, before falling back into silence. The two warred with each other in gesture and glares, before coming to an agreement.

“Just help me get him into this cage, and remove his ability to communicate, we’ll figure the rest out later.”

“Fine. But only if you apologize for being so rude to me earlier.” He watched Skulker grit his teeth and cross his arms for a moment, before turning to glare at him more fiercely.

“I’m...sorry, for interrupting you. Now. Can we please put him in a cell?”

“Good enough.” Technus floated him into the cell using the cellphone in one of his pockets. He then fried everything that could communicate to the outside world, and slammed the locking mechanism closed. “Ok, so he’s not getting out of there until someone comes to look for him.”

“Do you know how long that might be?”

“I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to human routines.”

Skulker took another deep breath to rein in his temper. The technopath ghost was trying when they’d first met before the War, now a days, he was a menace to his fraying nerves. “You can check the handbook for the rules in the GSU server.” “Oh yeah!” Technus hummed for a few seconds before coming back brightly, “it should be about five hours. He’s known for slacking off, and no one really checks this far down in the facility for breaches. Between that and my genius keeping the system off our scent, we’ll have more than enough time to assemble that upgraded suit.” Technus bounced the tabtop in excitement and jumped in electric form to another piece of machinery. “I’m inside the mainframe now, so you don’t have to worry about carrying me around. Don’t worry, I’ll find something easily portable for you to sneak me out in later.”

“I wasn’t worried.” He gave the caged, still unconscious, human one final look before marching over to the only door to the lab. It’s keypad display flashed green, before it swung open into the hallway beyond. It had been a long time since he’d left the labs; he was looking forward to freedom.

He crept down the hallway, keeping an eye and ear out for trouble. Technus was connected to their security system and every piece of technology connected to the mainframe, but he was easily distracted. Right now, the ghost was rambling about how efficient the backups were for the archives of the GSU and idly noting that he was happy they were much better maintained than that taptop. He could already tell convincing him to trash the mainframe’s files would be impossible. Never mind that hindering the greatest threat to ghost kind was more important than the organization of some computer systems...He clenched his fists as he hid around a corner from the bootfalls of some GSU grunt at Technus’ urging. Ok. Maybe the ghost was paying more attention than he’d thought. Still, he knew asking Technus to trash something as “magnificently luminous” as the mainframe of the Amity Park GSU facility was like asking him to give up on a quarry. Less than useless, even if frustrating as hell for other beings. Sometimes, he wished they weren’t ghosts.

But then the humans’ obsession with eradicating all ghost kind came back to him, and he realized all beings were obsessed with something. Ghosts just got a bad wrap for being more enthusiastic than humans about it. He rounded another corner and finally made it into the first lab with a piece of potential equipment. Something approximating a gantlet was draped over the side of a lab table.

It didn’t look like a piece of his suit. It was a gauntlet, sure, but it lacked the intimidating bulk he preferred in his designs. The material was matte, instead of shiny, and black and cool gray, like the suits the GSU wore. It struck him as ugly on initial viewing, and he consider just leaving it in place and demanding Technus look for the pieces that remained of his real battlesuit. “Don’t be so shy, get over there and inspect it.” Technus hissed from a speaker near the top of the room. He knew he was being petulant about this on some level, but if the aesthetics were this poor, he didn’t have great expectations for the function. The GSU, humans in general if he were honest, had a sense of taste that merged the two together. If something was ugly, it was likely to function poorly too if made by human hands. With a great heaving sigh, he overcame his reluctance and worked his way up to the table.

“I thought you said they improved my technology? This gauntlet looks more flimsy than the very first version I made!”

“It’s made out of a new grade of ecto-steel.” Technus stopped to peruse the files detailing the specs of the armor piece. “They’ve got it blended with this polymer after they spun it into thread. This is really wild stuff Skulker, you’d love the research into—”

“So is it stronger than the original design or not?”

“Well, yes, if these test results are any indication. Maybe they did the tests wrong—”

“No, no, they are through about that.” Still, he frowned as he looked at the floppy glove and wrist bracer combo before him. His misgivings about the shape were making it hard to really assess the abilities of the tech. He closed his eyes for a moment to shove his personal aesthetic desires aside and assess the piece objectively. The bracer was seamlessly welded or molded into the rest of the gauntlet; the material that made up the hand was flexible and with a quick check he realized it repelled ecto-energy. He poked around the bracer section itself, watching compartments open up on its side, but no weapons appear.

“They’re for storage. They can miniaturize things, using something similar to those...ghost traps they shove us into.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, frustrated there were no weapons already attached; he’d feel safer with a gun. The stitching, what existed of it, was tight, the texture suggested the weave of the polymer metal blend was even and strong, even the weight of it was balanced, at least for a human to wear it. Outside of looking terrible, it was a well-made and suitable piece of armor, if the blend making up most of the material was as strong as Technus suggested.

“Alright, where’s the next piece of tech.” He picked up the glove, which was thankfully both lighter than his own original design and lighter than it appeared, and jumped off the table, marching towards the door. Technus whispered the next location and went back to monitoring for humans as he trudged through the bowels of the Amity Park GSU HQ. They popped into two more labs on this level, grabbing another gauntlet, this one blessedly with weapons installed, and a headpiece Technus assured him would allow them access to other parts of the facility. All of that was without incident, it was quiet this deep inside GSU territory. Now though, he stood at the door leading up to the next level. They had to go up two whole floors to travel to the main storage facility where the rest of the suit components were found. He was skeptical this headpiece would let them through. “How is this supposed to hide the fact I’m a ghost again?”

“Well, you’re a pretty weak one. Don’t get mad! I’m just stating facts. That’s the reason you haven’t been setting off very many alarms. You don’t have a lot of ecto-energy, and Amity has a lot of ambient stuff floating around. They had to re-calibrate their scanners to exclude the white noise. Your levels are so low, it comes just over their scanners’ sensitivity.”

“Great, but the door?”

“Right! So, that thing has a ID attached for some lab worker down here. Or at least, it will when I’m done installing the ID onto it. It’s made so people in these battlesuits they’re making can be ID’d without having to scan their hands and retinas, because that would be cumbersome, getting in and out of the suits right? So as long as I can fake the ID, the system will think you’re human and let you through.”

“That seems like a security breach waiting to happen with these things.”

“Hey, it’s the humans’ tech, not ours, no one said it was smart.”

“You said it was smart…”

“I said their mainframe’s organization was smart! Never mind. Just hold the helmet up to the hand scanner and it should let you through.”

“If these things were made to let people through without removing their helmet, why does it need to be read through the hand scanner?” He hopped on the box sitting haphazard near the door, definitely some rule violation, and held it up near the keypad.”

“They don’t have the eye level ones installed yet.”

The keypad beeped and the door slid open into the frame, no further activity or blaring lights happening. “Do they intend to install eye level scanners that can read these things?” Technus was quiet for a moment, likely looking through the archives, before popping back in with a barking laugh. “Technus, quiet…”

“Would you believe they haven’t thought of it yet? Right now when they are doing tests everyone just bends over and holds their head to the hand scanner. There’s videos! All of them bent over waving their heads in front of the keypad trying to find the part that reads the ID.”

“...Ok that does sound pretty entertaining, but try to focus.” He stood on the railing of the stairs, and was able to get the keypad to scan the helmet again. “It is this floor right?”

“Of course, I haven’t given you bad directions yet have I?”

“Just making sure, it will be hard to get these things open with more humans around.” He hopped through the door, balancing everything awkwardly. He was getting more grateful for the reduction in weight in the new designs as the minutes passed. He was huffing hard when Technus directed him to round a corner towards the next piece of tech.

“Don’t worry, this one will make everything easier to carry. It’s some type of storage device you’ll attach to the chest piece when we get to the storage facility with the last of the stuff.”

“It’d better. This junk is not getting any lighter.” He tiptoed into the new empty lab, hiding as the reverberating thud of human boots clanged through the ecto-steel floor on this level. Clutching his stolen pieces of tech closer, his breathing sped up, even after they passed. Damn. This wasn’t just the effect of carrying all of this metal around, he could feel it in the way his core ached ominously. There was a reason the GSU didn’t bother hunting ghosts in the Human World below a certain strength. Not just because they weren’t intelligent enough to cause problems, but because ghosts his strength, who got separated from the Zone, evaporated if they stayed in the Human World too long. They just didn’t have enough ecto-energy stored to survive without a constant influx from the environment. He groaned with relief when the tech was stored inside the much smaller and lighter storage device. Technus babbled something about it being the same one as what was on the wrist of the left gauntlet, but he was having issues focusing.

“Hey buddy, you’re getting real quiet. You ok?”

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with quickly.”

“Are you sure? Because you look sorta funny in the readout of the scanners.”

“I’ll be better once I get my Suit reconstructed and I get out of here.” He dodged down a new hallway to avoid another group of boots and headed towards the next internal door. Luckily, this one didn’t require any fancy scanning ID and he just tapped in a code, after pushing a chair close to the keypad. That’ll draw some attention. He thought tired, but they didn’t have time to worry about that now.

“Ok, so head down the hall to the right, make three lefts, and then go down a staircase. At the bottom there’s a door, no keypad or anything, that leads to the main storage facility.”

“How am I supposed to open the door Technus? Just tug futile-like on the handle until I disappear in a wisp of smoke?”

“Funny. No, I can open this one myself. You’d think they’d guard all of the stuff inside their main storage room more! There’s a bunch of guns and grenades and all sorts of dangerous toys in there.”

Skulker hopped down the last of the steps with a pained grunt and waited in front of the door. “They’ve got a scanner to get into this part of the HQ, is there anything over here that isn’t storage.” Technus hummed before confirming there wasn’t and opening the door. “There’s your answer, the last security door covers everything.”

“Sure, but it has a logger in it that I can’t bypass.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Only because it might look weird in a few hours if this scientist doesn’t come out of the area...or they show up at the entrance. That would be wild.”

“Technus,” he said while heading towards the first crate with the tech he needed, “you’re sure this scientist won’t show up at the door right?” He didn’t put it past the scatterbrained ghost to forget a detail like that.

“Of course not! You doubt my genius problem solving skills?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, he won’t show up at the front door, because he’s in the cafeteria right now.” Skulker paused while grabbing something similar to the design of his original Suit’s boots a warm tingle of panic shooting through his core. “Technus, he’s in the facility right now?”

“Duh, it would look weird if he just showed up without having gone through—”

“So what happens when he tries to leave his lunch break and the system realizes he’s in two places at once?” His harsh whisper was closer to a scream by the time he finished the question, rushing towards the next spot designated by the technopath ghost for needed tech.

“Uh...you know? I didn’t consider that.”

The Zone’s greatest hunter snatched the last piece needed to complete a leg from another crate before a facility wide blaring alarm went off overhead.

Attention GSU personnel, the facility is now entering Lock Down Mode. Personnel ID discrepancy has been detected. For your own safety, please follow all ID registration procedures and proceed to your assigned positions to have your ID’s scanned. All attempts to access the mainframe at this time will be treated as hostile. Thank you for your cooperation.

“So, bad news, I am locked out of the system, or well to be more accurate, I’m locked out of making any changes to security or anything else.”

“Is there good news?” He grunted, hefting a final arm piece out of a box and sucking it up into the storage device.

“Oh no, there’s just worse news. I think I’ve been found out?”

Another alarm went through the facility, a siren screaming out Ghost Detected. “Oh, what would give you that idea?”

“Hey! Don’t get snippy with me; it’s not like I planned this.”

“Can you still get out of the mainframe?” Skulker jumped into the box containing the chest plate, knowing it was too heavy for him to lift out on his own. He slammed the button to absorb the material and then flopped back out over the top of the crate’s edge, bouncing off the floor in his haste.

“Yes? But then I couldn’t give you any directions. I can’t touch anything, their anti-virus is pathetic in its attempts to oust me, but I can still tell you where your tech is.”

“What good is that going to do me when I already know where everything is? What? Are you going to give me a play by play of the GSU pouring in to kill me?” Technus didn’t respond, and he opted to run over to a flat clear area in between some shelves to disgorge the contents of the storage device. Another click and out came a clattering of sensitive tech onto the concrete floor. He gave it a quick once over. Everything was there, he just had to assemble it. It looked like there was space in the chest piece for him to control the entire completed suit. Not ideal, but he could change it later if he survived. “Technus?”

“Just searching for something, and dodging the anti-virus. Oh, they are almost at the security door to the storage area. Looks like they figured out the scientist was in the cafeteria and not possessed fast...There’s a lot of agents.”

“We’re in one of the most secure GSU facility in the country, of course there’s a lot of agents.”

“Are you gonna be able to get out of here by yourself?”

“Of course I will. I’m not just the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter, I’m also an excellent fighter.” Skulker grunted a few times trying to get the ends of the Suit that connected up to each other to seal together. The lightheadedness was getting worse. He looked over the pieces he had left with detached alarm, he didn’t have time for this. “What?” He’d been ignoring the other ghost again as he slotted another piece together.

“I said I’ll cover your escape! You should be honored to have one as amazing as me sacrifice himself in this way. But fear not! Because so great is my infinite brilliance that there are many copies of—”

“—You’re the last.”

“I’m the last what?”

“The last Technus copy, you’re the only one that still exists. Check their archives, if you still have access.” He wiggled the boots into the connection bits for the legs, breathing hard as he struggled to move even that anymore. “If you get captured and deleted or whatever, then you’ll be dead...dead-er.” He amended when he remembered Technus had actually been human once, unlike many others of their kind. At Technus’ frank silence, he continued, “if you want to sacrifice yourself for the ‘greater good’ or some such noble bull, then feel free. But if you thought it’d be fine because you’d live on through another perfect copy—”

“There really isn’t another…” He interrupted, genuine wonder and horror warring with each other in his voice. Instantly, Technus’ full form was in front of the pile of still partially assembled parts. “You aren’t gonna get that together in time.” A loud banging came from the front of the facility. “I’ve got the door locked, but they have a battering ram.” His tone sounded cheerful, like the idea of crumpling in the door was just amazing. “They’ll have to use real explosive to get through. You should’ve seen them bouncing off the door with the ram though, it was hilarious.” Skulker struggled through connecting another two pieces together, hands burning and buzzing. “Maybe you should let me do it, this stuff’s got an ecto-ranium coating on top of it.”

“Oh, now you tell me…” He lies flat on the concrete, staring up at the bright halcyon lights in the ceiling. The concrete really does feel cold. He noticed with dispassion, the energy to get worked up drifting away with the rest of his fading consciousness.

“If you were this fragile, how’d you survive this long?”

“They starve us you asshole.” He still had enough energy to be cross with Technus though. He ignored whatever the other ghost said in response, concentrating on figuring out how to escape. He did perk up when he said it was done, interest turning to ash when he saw the still inactive tech sprawled across the ground. “It’s not online.”

“It’s not charged.”

“Yes, I can see that. If it needed battery packs, why didn’t you—”

“It’s...not supposed to? Too bad I can’t check since I’m out of the mainframe now.”

The room was spinning, and he didn’t even have it in him to frustrated with Technus not checking this beforehand. “Do you remember enough of the specs to know how to charge this thing?” He panted as the ceiling came into and out of focus, the surface pitching like rippling water. He couldn’t pass out. He heard Technus say something, or he heard the noise, but it didn’t resolve into words, disappearing into the rising staticy sound screaming in his head.

He came to with a start, leaning against hard cool metal, sickly green ectoplasm leaking over the surface of the control panel underneath him. Novas my core aches. His hearing came back to the frantic commentary of his escape partner. “What happened?”

“Well you tried to evaporate, so I re-wired the life support system in this thing to send you ecto-energy, and thanks to my supreme intelligence, it worked. You’re, uh, kinda still melting though.”

He grunted pushing himself upright with the half-melted stump of his left arm. “It’ll stabilize and reverse once I get enough energy.” He squinted as the display came up, neon bright and overwhelming. It suddenly dimmed to a more reasonable level. He swiped sloppily against the inside controls, his re-charging ectoplasm slowly rejoining his form. “Ok, looks like you overrode the operating system of the suit.”

“I am far superior to the pathetic OS they installed.”

“I’m sure.” He groaned as his left hand reformed; he flexed all of his still numb fingers on both hands. “How long was I out?”

“Only thirty seconds, but the GSU just blew up the front door.”

“Fucking fantastic.”

“Don’t worry, I can operate the limbs until you finish reforming. Then, you can control the suit.”

“You’re a terrible fighter Technus, that’s why all your copies got captured.” He ignored the other ghost’s offended protests. “My hands are back; I’ve got this.” More bluster than he would have liked at the moment, but they were out of time. He watched as agents surrounded them, weapons pointed, but body language hesitant. He smiled. “Technus, does this thing have a sword?” He watched as a long sharp machete popped up in the display. They didn’t know who they were dealing with...

He stepped over the dismembered arm of a GSU grunt, metallic boot clang muted by the splash of dark red cooling blood. Amateurs. He thought, squeezing the throat of the last agent until it made a satisfying crack. He dropped the limp body and surveyed the carnage. It hadn’t even been an enjoyable battle. “How long until the next group shows up?”

“Radio chatter suggests they’re bringing—maybe two minutes?” Technus corrected himself when he properly registered the question. He felt his core’s beat pick up at the thought of more GSU grunts to disembowel. They beg so sweetly when they realize— “Not to ruin your fun, but we’re supposed to be escaping.”

“We have to go through them don’t we?”

“This is why you got captured.”

“Shut up Technus.” The other ghost was right though. With a deep breath, he ignored his desire to hunt down some more GSU agents and make them squeal for the years of captivity and the War. Later. After. He promised himself, before looking at the ceiling. “What’s the fastest way out?”

“Not up.” He brought up a map of the facility and overlaid it with the proposed escape route. “That gets us out without fighting through too many more GSU grunts.” Skulker huffed, pausing a moment to consider straying off course to fight a few extra agents before reining himself in. He did shudder though, suppressing another wave of battle lust, when they zoomed past an unsuspecting group of agents.

A few minutes later, they’d floated through the last of the HQ’s walls, bee-lining it away from the facility. The blare of the Amity HQ’s alarm was sweet, like the honeyed taste of victory, as the outskirts of the city grew near. They hovered near the edge of the city, cores thrumming with excitement and satisfaction. “How did they find you anyway? Why not just convince the system the ID duplication was a bug?”

“I tried, but my attention was divided.”

“Doing what?” He asked. He brought up a gantlet and pointed it ahead of them, temporary portal crackling into existence. The welcoming green of the Zone called to him, it’s siren tones the lullaby he’d carved the last long years of capacity.

“I had to get information about the permanent openings for Plasmius. Weaknesses, facility maps, the works. That’s a lot of data you know?”

“Sure.” Skulker agreed, scanning the portal to check its stability and connection. The portal let out a day’s flight from his territory. It’d worked. They were nearly home. “That the trade for breaking you out of the facility in Boston?”

“Yup, and delivering it with you to the drop off.”

“I need to see him anyway, lots of catching up to do.” He was stalling. The Zone was right in front of him, just a hair’s breadth away from the cool tingle of real spectral energy from a Nova, and the humming thrum that echoed in every part of the air from it. He could feel his core tugging painfully, wistfully, for home. He just had to step forward. It was right there...and he was stalling.

“Stop being such a baby, it’s been eight years since I’ve been in the Zone and you don’t see me dawdling and wringing my hands.”

“Do you even have any friends you’re scared won’t be there?” Skulker forced himself through the portal. He heard the crackling zap of the temporary portal collapsing right after their passage. Interesting feature. Could be very useful. He noted.

“My ecto-cat definitely misses me.”

“Of course you have a cat...How long until this suit is permanently charged? I don’t want to be stuck listening to your chattering.”

“Oh, the suit is already charged, but it won’t run without an OS, which is me.”

“Technus, you deleted the OS!”

“Well! It wouldn’t accept you as a user and turn on because it sensed your energy. You’re lucky I was able to override it and still charge the suit! Would you rather have evaporated?”

No he wouldn’t… But the other ghost was already going on about the encrypted files he’d downloaded and how ‘glorious’ the algorithm that made it must have been, and they have petabytes of storage in this hard-drive, and—maybe death wouldn’t have been so bad?

…then you better pray for a miracle.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Too Late to Be Too Late--Ch. 4

Part 4: Mattie

           One moment, it was just us—just Nicole and Lee and me. My baby brother and sister trying their best to keep me together. It was just them. Momma was in her bedroom—the one she shared with Dad. I’d barely seen her since the day Papa told us what happened. That those stupid kids at school had made Dad leave. That I had made him leave. Aunt Denise was there. She’d been the one to cook our meals and make sure everyone had clean clothes and lunch for school. Nicole refused to go, even after we didn’t even go to the same one. After the first day, Papa and Denise stopped trying to make her. By the second, Lee had boycotted, too.

           One moment, it was just us. Just the three of us clinging to something. To the hope that when Papa came home, he’d bring Dad with him.

           One moment, I had my head hanging over the trash can, vomit and bile burning up my throat as my eyes burned with tears and I struggled to breathe.

           And then the next… the next there was something—someone—else. Big and buzzing and smelling like caramel and alcohol. He’d stopped drinking a long time ago, but I would always associate the warm scent of whisky with Uncle Mox.

           I knew he was there—I registered it—but in the next moment, it was gone. All that remained was the empty, gaping hole inside me. I wanted to run away from it. But more I just wanted to crawl into it and never come out. Maybe then I would be able to forget what I’d done to our family.

           Somehow, I slipped off into a twilight darkness that flowed around me like water.

***

           I felt gross. Grimy and sticky. Like my skin had been painted in salt water. It felt tight. Almost painful. My eyes ached. They hurt like they’d been rolled in sandpaper. My throat was raw. Every little bit of me was tired.

           The feeling had gotten worse after Uncle Mox had me take some medicine. He hadn’t told me what it was, but it made my arms and legs feel heavy. I tried to open my eyes and lift my head, but I couldn’t. My heart beat slowly, thumping hard. It made it hard to breathe.

           “Get up.” The voice was low and rough. There was a faint sense of anger beneath the surface. “I said, get up.”

           My whole body hurt. The world shook and thundered beneath me. My stomach turned upside down and inside out. Like going through the same loop over and over again on a roller coaster.

           “Cookie—” Only Uncle Mox called me that. “Either you get up your way or mine. And I swear, yours will have way fewer bruises.”

           “’M still tired, Mox.” The sound was my own voice, but I didn’t recognize it. It was pitiful and whiny.

           “Don’t make me ask again,” Mox said as a jar ran through my bed. My stomach tried to claw its way up my throat as the world shook violently. “Now get the fuck up.”

           Before I could move, the world tipped sideways. I went tumbling, crashing hard against the floor. The breath rushed out of me, throwing the room into sharp focus as the shock cut through the leftover haze of the drugs.

           Motorcycle boots appeared in my vision. Uncle Mox let out a grunt as he sank into a deep squat. He balanced on the balls of his feet and gave my shoulder a shove. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me look up.

           “You know I love you, Cookie. And I love your momma too. But you and Cupcake gotta stop all this mopey bullshit.”

           “You don’t—”

           “What? I don’t get it?” He snapped his fingers right in front of my nose. With every word, he thumped his fist against his chest. “Broken home. Projects. Got the shit kicked out of me daily. Dropped outta high school. Booze and coke and just about anything you can possibly imagine and definitely things you can’t.”

           The feeling of being sick hit me again. I toppled forward and pressed my forehead against the carpet. “Stop, Uncle Mox!”

           His boots disappeared, but I could hear him stomping away. The door banged against the stop as his voice roared down the hallway. “Nacho, open the door!”

           Almost immediately, my sister’s voice replied. “Which one?”

           “Patio!”

           Nicole called out for Lee, and within a few seconds I heard the locks clicking. Uncle Mox wrapped his hand around my ankle and practically dragged me backward. I clawed at the carpet, tried to get my hands on the post of my bed. My free leg kicked backward. I hit Mox in the shin at least once, but he didn’t stop.

           The carpet burned. It felt like being raked over sandpaper. I screamed as a sudden anger and rage surged through me. “Let go of me!”

           When he’d dragged me all the way into the living room, Uncle Mox leaned over and hefted me over his shoulder. I thrashed and flailed, beating my fist against his back. “Put me down!”

           “I warned you, Cookie,” he growled. The heat of Southern California slammed into me as he stepped out onto the patio. “It’s time for the bullshit to stop.”

           “Daddy left us!” Tears burned against the backs of my eyelids. “Daddy left me!”

           Nicole let out a faint gasp at the moment Uncle Mox yanked me back over his shoulder and practically dropped me to the ground. I swayed as the blood rushed back out of my head. The stone patio was hot, burning against the soles of my feet.

           “Your Daddy is a coward who ran out when things got tough,” Uncle Mox growled at me. His face was calm as he pointed over my shoulder to the house. “And your Papa is an ignorant dick to leave you and Cupcake when you need him!”

           Anger roared up inside me. I felt it start at my toes and burn it’s way through my whole body. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and shoved my hands into his chest as hard as I could. He barely flinched. Barely moved a single centimeter. The scream tore at my throat as it ripped out of me.

           “Shut up!” I shoved him again. “Shut up!”

           I took a step forward, wanting to punch my Uncle Mox in the face. It hurt so much to hear the things he said. It was like a knife slicing between my ribs to think about my Dad as a coward. My eyes burned. The tears fell in a torrent.

           “Mox…” Nicole’s said from somewhere over my shoulder.

           He made a noise that sounded like a hiss. I felt his roughened fingers settle on my wrist. With gentle pressure, he pulled me toward him. For a split second, I thought that he was going to hug me. But a place in the back of my mind registered the way he held my wrist. I knew that feeling. I knew what it meant.

           My heart dropped into my stomach as Uncle Mox whipped me past him. I couldn’t stop myself. Water rushed into my mouth and up my nose as I hit the water, sinking fast through the warm top and down into the cold bottom of the pool.

           I dragged myself toward the surface, my soaked clothes weighing me down. I broke through and sputtered. Water came through my mouth and nose as I tried to breathe.

           “What the fuck!” I yelled, coughing. “Why’d you do that?”

           Uncle Mox crouched down at the edge of the pool just out of reach. “First off, watch your fucking language. You know better.” There was half a smile somewhere in his voice, but it was still buried beneath a quiet sort of rage. “Second, it’s time for you to stop wallowing and grow up.”

           “Mox!” Nicole snapped, stalking up behind him. “Don’t talk to her that way!”

           Without even looking at her, Uncle Mox said, “Stay out of it, Nacho. Go back inside.”

           “No! You’re not gonna be mean to Tea!”

           Treading water, I looked up at him. Uncle Mox stared right back at me. His face was steady and blank in that way that only he had. “It’s my fault,” I said softly.

           “No, it isn’t,” he replied. “It’s your Daddy’s fault.”

           “If I hadn’t gotten into that fight…”

           He shook his head without looking away. “Wasn’t a fight. That was a beat down.”

           “If they didn’t know about our family…”

           Uncle Mox sank back, plopping down on his rear. “Your family is what it is. Ain’t nobody else’s business. And those girls are little punks with bitch ass parents who haven’t taught them shit.”

           I swam toward the edge of the pool. My clothes kept dragging me down, making it harder to move. I pulled myself up onto the patio, water streaming off me, hair sticking to my neck and cheeks.

           “Is there something wrong with me, Mox?”

           He scooted across the patio to sit behind me. He tugged me back against his chest, ignoring the water that immediately soaked into his clothes. “No. Not a goddamn thing. Be exactly who you are, Cookie. And anybody who doesn’t like it can fuck off.”

           For just a moment, my chest ached. And then it felt as if part of the weight on my shoulders lifted. As long as Uncle Mox was there, I could be okay. I could make it. But I was afraid of what might happen when he left. When I was all alone again and left with the thoughts and memories of what happened.

           “I’ll be here as long as you need me, Mattie. I’ll camp out in a hammock out here if that’s what it takes.”

           My body ached. My heart ached. I felt the tears again. Mox hugged me tightly.

           “I’m right here, Cookie. No matter what.”

           I burrowed back against him, holding onto his arms with every ounce of strength I had. “Thanks, Uncle Mox.”

______

Tag List

@not-that-kinda-gurl08

@lilred91

@imagineall-the-fandoms

@maelleoute

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Twin Flame - Chapter 11: "Forever and Always"

"'Cause it seems to me, this thing is breaking down, we almost never speak. I don't feel welcome anymore…"

"He's just through that corridor," the guard informs you three, pointing down to the small door that lead to the room that contained the man you only knew by reputation as the catalyst to the massive rift that tore your family apart. 

"Just give us a second," Sam tells the guard. 

The guard nods, walking away without another word. 

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go talk to him," you inform Bucky and Sam, jutting your thumb in the direction of the door. 

Sam reaches out, careful to grab your uninjured arm to pull you back to the two of them, "Absolutely not."

"Not a chance," Bucky agrees.

"Of course, this you two can agree on," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "It should be me."

"No, it really shouldn't."

"And why not?" you demand. 

"Because it's Zemo," Sam forcefully states. "A very dangerous, very manipulative man."

"Like I'm going to fall for anything he says," you guffaw, a little insulted by Sam's lack of trust in you. "Despite what you may think, I'm not an idiot."

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Sam mutters, the edge in his voice dropping to something that sounds vaguely apologetic. 

"Didn't you though?" you retort.

"You know what?" Sam deeply exhales. "We can talk about this later, because you're still not going in there."

"It should be me. It's me they're trying to replicate," you insist. 

"I'll go. I'll talk to him and see what he knows," Sam offers.

"No, I need to do this. He could have answers for me," you continue. 

"Well, hold on a second, I think I should be the one going in," Bucky interjects. "I have the most experience with Zemo. And either way, you two were Avengers, you know how he feels about that."

"Well, technically, I was never an Avenger," you wryly point out.

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "You lived on the Avengers Compound. I don't think he's going to change his mind on a technicality."

"It's not like you two were known for frolicking in the sun together," Sam counters. "If I remember correctly, he's not that big a fan of super soldiers either."

"He was obsessed with HYDRA," Bucky doubles down. "We have history together. Trust me, I got it."

"No, you don't got it," Sam quips.

"Well, it's either going to be me or you," Bucky counters.

"So it should be me!"

As the two of them omit you from the conversation entirely, you take a few silent steps backward, slowly moving away from the conversation and closer to the door the guard just pointed to.

You slowly shuffle backward, keeping your eyes forward as the two of them bicker back and forth.

With just a few steps, you see the door in your peripheral, You reach for the small buzzer and quip to the two of them, finally interrupting their banter, "Okay, great, while you two figure that out, I'll be right back."

The two of them break away from their hushed argument to the sight of you already by the door being buzzed in.

Before either of them can say a word, you dismissively wave your hand at them, "Don't worry, you can talk to him after me."

"Wait-" Sam starts, only to be cut off by the door shutting behind you. 

You pass through the first door, only stopping when the guard in front of you halts his footsteps.

The guard looks up at the camera in the top right corner, speaking a series of numbers before the next door buzzes open. 

You take a deep breath as he guides you through the door, leaving you alone with a man you only knew from the chaos he caused during your time on the Compound. 

He sits in the shadow, obscuring his face in the darkness. 

"Well, It's not every day someone I don't know comes to visit me in prison."

"Hello, Zemo. I'm-" you begin introducing yourself, not even a sentence in before he begins talking over you.

"Before you begin, I feel I must confess that your introduction is not necessary. Your reputation precedes." 

His words spark your curiosity. Few people knew about you, even fewer knew of you well enough to recognize you so easily. You know better than to take the bait, so you lightly hedge, "And what reputation is that?"

He finally steps into the light, a small smirk on his lips. You've never seen this man before, you also only know him from reputation, and to put it plainly, he's not at all what you expected. But you remind yourself of what Sam said, he's manipulative, dangerous.

"A mysterious woman with even more mysterious abilities. SHIELD's most valuable asset, worked closely with the Avengers. A particularly warm friendship with Steve Rogers." His head turns slightly, a calculating grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. His next words sound rhetorical, but he watches carefully for a reaction. "Pardon me, if I'm correct you maintained an affinity for both super soldiers. How is James Barnes?"

You sigh, shaking your head before ignoring your instinct to refute his claims, "Well, I'm sorry to tell you not all the stories you've heard are true."

"And what about your time with the Avengers? Is that not true?"

"It's true."

He hums, nodding with a smirk. You can see him plotting, figuring out exactly how he's going to push your buttons. "Tell me, did you enjoy your time as an Avenger? Did it feed your superiority complex?"

"I don't think I'm superior," you plainly state. "And I wasn't an Avenger."

"That's right," he humorlessly chuckles, nodding like you just played right into his hand. "You were SHIELD's little toy."

And there it was, his carefully laid trap. You swallow the bitterness of his words, nodding once, "Yes, I used to work for SHIELD. They rescued me."

"Rescued or commandeered?" he poses. 

"Rescued. From a room not much smaller than this actually," you offer, gesturing to the room surrounding Zemo. "From a life in captivity."

He snorts, shaking his head at your words. "Rescued, then weaponized for a war you knew nothing about. A war killing thousands of people who stood no chance against people like you."

It's then that you realize what he's talking about. And while you weren't present for the battle in Sokovia, you'd heard enough about the atrocities for your stomach to knot from guilt. "I know it's not enough, but for whatever it's worth to you, I'm sorry about your family."

He snorts in disbelief. "A tad hypocritical to offer apologies. Exactly how many people have died by your hand?"

"None. Not a single person."

A curt chuckle leaves his mouth, clearly not believing you, "Not even as an Avenger? Not as A SHIELD asset?"

"No, not even then." His eyes narrow, clearly trying to determine if you're telling the truth. You take this as your chance to win him over, to convince him to tell you what he so clearly knows, "I've only ever wanted to do what was right. To be more than what I was taught I was."

"And what is that?"

"A monster."

"Do you believe that you are? A monster, I mean?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly, shrugging your shoulders. "I know I didn't ask for this. And I don't know why I'm like this, but I am, so I deal. But just because I deal, doesn't mean other people should have to. And it definitely doesn't mean there should be more people like me."

"Because you want to be the only one?" he probes.

"Because I don't want people getting hurt," you easily reply. "And now with this serum or whatever it is, people are going to get hurt."

"And you think I know why you are the way you are? Who's behind this new serum?" He proudly nods, pointing at you through the glass, "You think HYDRA has something to do with this, which is why you came to me, which means you are desperate."

"I think you're a man that prides himself on knowledge. And knowing how one random person ended up this way is invaluable knowledge. It's knowledge that not even SHIELD had."

"I will admit, you defy my expectation. It's impressive."

"Thank you... I think?"

"But what you need to ask yourself is how did they get the source of the serum in the first place."

"What?"

"It came from you. This you know, but the question begs to be asked: how did they get your blood in the first place?" You've always been told you wore your heart on your sleeve. And usually, you didn't mind it, but in this moment you pray that Zemo cannot see the gears turning inside your head. He continues pacing the length of his small cell. "Because this organization, the one that held you captive, they wished to see you extinct, did they not?"

You unwittingly shake your head as you follow Zemo's insinuation. "Then it was HYDRA, it was-"

"You're so quick to exonerate SHIELD," he points out, once again donning a wicked smirk.

"They wouldn't have. SHIELD wouldn't-"

The words die on your mouth, because you know it's not true. Even before SHIELD had been overtaken by HYDRA, they absolutely would have. Even in those early days, you weren't blind to SHIELD's blatant power grabs. And you know they absolutely would've done it. 

"But it has crossed your mind," he correctly assumes. "They had the access, a simple blood draw to cultivate an army of unstoppable people such as yourself. Why else would they keep samples of your DNA? Samples of your blood?"

You're taken aback by this. You'd only ever told Sam about that small, fleeting confrontation with Brock Rumlow after you accidentally stumbled upon a hidden lab. It was an accident, but when you saw rows and rows of vials, your curiosity got the best of you. 

Your fingers had barely grazed a single vial before Rumlow found you and demanded to know what you were doing in that lab.

You didn't tell anyone except Sam about the strange incident. And it sort of fell to the back of your head amidst all the chaos that transpired in those next few months. "How did you-"

"You're so certain about SHIELD. About Nick Fury. But something tells me that's not a traditional employment practice. And deep down, you know it too." You remain wordless. Your mouth opens once, then closes without a sound as you carefully try to choose your next words when he speaks again, "I only wish to enlighten you. I mean you no harm."

"Is that true?"

"Your hands are clean. I can appreciate your innocence," he genuinely offers. "But as you can see I don't have the knowledge you want. Maybe James will be more successful in his interrogation."

You don't even question him on how he knows Bucky's coming in right after you. You simply nod once, your eyebrows furrowing as you mull over Zemo's words.

Just as quickly as you walked in, you turn on your heels, your mind reeling with the sting that SHIELD could very well be responsible for all the chaos ensuing.

You roughly push the door open. The second you enter the hallway, the heavy atmosphere lightens and it feels like you can breath again, you gasp for desperately needed air.

The weight in your stomach does not subside. You feel queasy, almost seasick, completely adrift in all the events of your time on the outside now slowly being picked apart.

It feels like you're slowly drowning, like you've been fighting for months to stay afloat but now you're truly being dragged to the depths of waters that just keep getting even murkier. Your muscles ache from exhaustion after all this time, and sometimes, you swear you won't ever resurface.

You're immediately surrounded by Sam and Bucky both flanking you as they impatiently wait the play-by-play of what happened in there.

"Are you okay? What happened in there?"

You look at the tile beneath your feet as you process the information. You try to remind yourself that Zemo isn't exactly the most reliable source of information and this could all be a way to get under your skin.

But deep down, you know it makes too much sense.

"You remember the night Rumlow found me in one of the labs?"

Sam nods once, vividly recalling you telling him that you'd gotten scolded like a child for wandering the halls, "Yeah."

You finally look up at Sam with a gaze that's lost in recollection. "Those vials - there was a reason I got in so much trouble for that. He thinks they were keeping my blood. He thinks it was SHIELD."

The Twin Flame Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

[alchemil-studio]

Devlog #3 - June 2023

Hello~!

June has ended and with it we have some more updates regarding the progress of Norvale!

As we mentioned in the previous devlog, we’ve finished the initial story draft for the Craft Store route. In this route, Morgan decides to visit the local craft store in search of something that they can pick up as a new hobby. But once they arrive, they find two men arguing in the middle of the street…

NEW CHARACTERS

The designs for the two men, Frank and Kushal, have been completed and we’ve uploaded their character introductions yesterday.

Frank is the father of Louis, one of Morgan’s childhood friends, and the owner of the local toy store that sits across the street from the craft store. He’s someone that comes across rough at first but once you get to know him, he’s a pretty friendly guy. Despite being on good terms with Kushal’s wife Lathika & his daughter Sara, he never seems to get along with Kushal himself and is prone to starting arguments with him over pointless things…

Compared to the initial sketches, his face became a bit more oval compared to the rounder face of the pencil sketches. While making rough designs for his clothes, they were simple like a plain t-shirt and sandals or a sloppily tucked in shirt to go with his rough but friendly personality. But we decided to make him dress a bit neater and added a jacket to his outfit as well to fit the late spring season the story takes place in.

“He decided to head outside for a bit and threw on a jacket, just in case it gets chilly.” is the basic idea behind his final outfit.

Kushal’s design was pretty straightforward. Although looking back, he might’ve lost a bit of the aloofness of the pencil sketch since his features turned softer in the final design.

Kushal is the father of Sara, another one of Morgan’s childhood friends, and the owner of the local craft store. A man of few words and even fewer expressions, his stoicism and blunt words sometimes tend to rub people the wrong way. While he usually prefers to stay out of trouble, he’s always ready to throw words with Frank.

I drew the first outfit, the red Kurta with black pants to draw out a more traditional Indian feel, while designs 2 through 4 were mostly inspired by things dads usually wear haha

We ended up going with the outfit in design 2 since we felt it was a good casual but still somewhat formal outfit someone like Kushal would wear, while keeping the skin color of the first design.

The blue looks a little striking at first glance but I think the white accents bring some balance.

There’s still a little bit more sprite related work to go before I finish the character art for this route. After that, the plan is to move onto character designs for the third route and once those are done, the focus will be shifted to drawing backgrounds. There’s still a lot of artwork to go but I’ll do my best! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

DEVELOPMENT

Not much to update for the development side, aside from how we’ve started working on applying the new GUI to ren’py and experimenting on some GUI features we’ve thought about before and while conceptualizing the newer GUI. We’ll continue to finish implementing the GUI to the ren’py script before fixing some kinks/feature fixes then the story script itself unto the game. 

tl;dr: we’ve made quite a lot of progress for the 2nd part of the story in terms of assets. We’ll slowly but surely continue to develop and flesh out the full version of the game, so please continue to support us!

In summary, we’re making progress! Although small, we are making progress and a positive one at that! Please look forward to the full release of Norvale!

---

Links

Carrd: Alchemilla Studios

Twitter: @Alchemil_Studio

Instagram: @Alchemil_Studio

Itch.io: Alchemilla Studios

[pretendicanwrite]

Something Happened Pt. 3

Part 3!!!

I'm really enjoying writing this, but there will probably only be a few more parts.

Character credit to @lumosinlove

CW: Semi-graphic descriptions of s*xual assault, and mental health issues.

**********

The boys skated over, removing their helmets as they came.

Heather could see the fear in their eyes when they spotted her. Finn’s hands were shaking, and Logan couldn’t stop tapping his fingers against his legs.

They followed behind her as she walked towards the locker room, and instructed them to change into their street clothes and come to her room when they finished.

She purposely closed the door when she got there, giving a silent warning for the two cubs to knock.

“They’re changing right now, they’ll probably be a few minutes.”

Leo nodded, and he seemed fine, in fact, he seemed calmer than when she left. He had picked up one of the squishy ball fidgets that sat in a basket on the end table she kept for the players to use to keep themselves occupied.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for Finn and Logan, until they finally heard a couple of quiet knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly to show Finn peeking his head through with Logan right behind him.

Finn spoke quietly as he let the door open all the way, “Hey Nutter Butter baby.”

Logan just waved, seeming too scared to actually speak.

“Come on in boys, why don’t you both take a seat?”

Tentatively, they both sat on the couch Heather had in the back of her room that matched the chair Leo was in. Both he and Heather moved to sit in the chairs across from the couch.

“Is this about why you’ve been avoiding us, Honey?”

“Finn, I think it would be really good if you let Leo take his time to tell you what’s been going on.”

Finn nodded and kept his mouth shut, although Heather could see the worry in his eyes increase.

“You both remember that night I went to pick up groceries after the home game?” After receiving nods, Leo continued. “Something happened in the parking lot. Some guy snuck up behind me and started touching me.” Finn and Logan let out matching gasps, both of their eyes going glossy. “He pushed me up against the car and reached down towards the front of my pants. I got him off of me then, but I still feel horrible.” There were far fewer breaks this time as Leo went through his recount of the exchange.

He finished explaining why he didn’t tell them sooner, what happened afterward, and why he had been distancing himself.

“Leo, love, I can promise you that we don’t feel any different about you after hearing this. This was not your fault, and it was something you had no control over. You didn’t consent to it, and you did nothing wrong. Baby, none of this is your fault.” Logan was quietly crying as leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, hands palm up.

It was a subtle gesture to let Leo know that he had the option to take his hands, but Logan wasn’t going to force him to.

“I know that, but it still feels like I should have done more, or handled it differently. And I know that it wasn’t my fault. I know that, but I can’t help but feel like everything I did in that situation was wrong. I think I should make appointments with Heather to help me gather my thoughts, and learn how not to blame myself.”

Everyone nodded, and slowly, Leo reached a hand out to each of his boys. “I’m not comfortable with any sort of sexual contact right now. I know that you guys would never do anything like this, but I still am struggling to let you even initiate any sort of touches.”

“Of course. Whatever you need baby. Is there anything else you’re not comfortable with?” Finn asked.

“I don’t like people being behind me. It reminds me of how that guy snuck up on me.” Finn interrupted with a small, ‘of course,’ and Leo continued. “I don’t want to go to the grocery store alone anymore. I also don’t want to go to that specific one yet. I know we’ve been ordering out a lot lately, and that’s because I don’t want to go shopping.”

Leo listed a few more things he was no longer comfortable with, and Heather made a note of them on a paper pad. When they were finished, the team was already back in the locker room, and they could hear the rowdiness from Heather’s office. Heather ripped off the paper she had been making the list on and handed it to Finn, knowing that Logan would lose it.

“I included a list of things to do if Leo ever has a panic attack or an anxiety attack. Please feel free to call me anytime. Night or day, it doesn’t matter.”

Finn nodded, checking his contacts to make sure he had Heather’s.

“What should we tell the team? I don’t want them to worry about me when I move out from in front of them, or flinch when they go to touch me.” Leo asked, getting ready to stand.

“What you tell them is up to you. You don’t owe anyone an explanation, but if you do want to tell them, maybe it would be a good idea to plan what you want to say, wait until you think it’s a good and safe time to tell them.”

The boys all stood, getting ready to leave when Heather called for them to wait. They slowly all sat back down, looking towards the team therapist.

“There’s one more thing I forgot to discuss with you. Leo, would you like to press charges?”

Leo looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I don’t think I do. I have no idea who he was, and I don’t even remember what he looks like so. I was so busy trying to get out of there, that I just ran.”

“Alright. I just want to make sure that you know that’s an option.”

They finished in Heather’s office, and they all walked down the hall toward the locker room.

**********

Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this.

[daikon1]

My 2022 Fanfic Year in Review!

I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but 2022 has been a rough one for me. Between challenges in my offline life and modding for the Drops of Moonlight Zine eating up most of my fandom time and energy, I didn’t write as much as I might have liked in other years.

Anyway, here’s my Ao3 Wrapped!!

Fair warning, spoilers for anything I posted this year abound below the cut!!

1. List of fics completed this year:

Well, I changed some of how I post this year (for example, I stopped posting to FFN entirely and decided to use ‘collections’ on Ao3 instead of chapters going forward for related but standalone shorts/one shots).

That said, I completed 5 fics:

A (Blind) Date with Destiny!

Moving In

then you showed up and I can’t get enough

We Do This Every Time

I Know All About Your Reputation (This is Bound to be a Heartbreak Situation)

I also began a new ongoing multichapter, Close to Home.

2. Number of words written:

61,054 that have been posted - fewer than previous years, but more than I’d thought!

3. Your most popular fic this year:

Of what I posted this year, (Blind) Date got the most hits, but overall The Runner-Up remained quite popular and got a lot of engagement.

4. Your personal favourite this year:

This is always a cruel question, given that everything I write feels like my baby/a part of me. The two I was most actively excited/couldn’t stop while writing were Blind Date and then you showed up… so… coin flip between the two?

5. Your favourite scene:

I *loved* writing the date in Blind Date with Destiny. Their dancing around each other and flirting and playing that ‘but do you remember me and if you don’t do I have to tell you’ game was SO MUCH FUN and basically flowed directly out of my brain and onto the page.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

Day six of my UsaMamo week fic (We Do This Every Time) gave me a lot of trouble. Turns out it’s hard to consolidate an entire arc from an anime into a single chapter, who knew 🤣

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

I feel like this is always the hardest question to answer and the one I put off until the very end, in part because when you write 60k+ words in a year (which comes out to like 2.5k sentences the way I write them), it’s hard to single out one!!

This year, I’m going to highlight this line from Close to Home:

Mamoru took an obnoxiously slow sip from his water glass. “Do you bring a lot of dates home?” he asked in an offhand way that made her want to dump her curry on top of his perfectly coiffed hair.

8. A comment that touched you:

I always feel like I get too many sweet reviews to single out just one; in fact, I now have a designated folder in my email titled “Review Joy” where I file away some of the ones I want to revisit when I’m feeling low. So here is a much-too-short and entirely non-exhaustive roundup of a few snippets from some of my favorite reviews this year:

Just crossed your story today and *had* to go on Ao3 to read the second part!

I can’t picture things clearly or for long in my mind, but this scene was crystal clear, at least Usagi bowing to the little rabbit and talking in a friendly, but quiet and gentle, almost reverential way because Usako was part of Mamoru, vulnerable, almost like part of his soul.

I love all the check-ins for consent - they were so natural!! So good!! Thank you for writing!!

The scene of him putting things together was also suitably spooky and conspiratorial, like the ending of the Usual Suspects kinda.

Ngl I was SHRIEKING AT MY PHONE when I saw she'd written something SO SWEET into the book?! AND THEN DASHED LIKE THE LITTLE ADORABLE IDIOT SHE IS?

I’m always filled with excitement when I see a new story from you and it never disappoints. This is an absolutely wonderful beginning filled with emotions and sweetness and I cannot wait to see where you lead us.

Seeing bisexual rep in usagi meant the world to me as a young, questioning teen, and seeing you showcase that here and have her friends be so knowing & accepting of that really just made my heart feel so whole <3

Impeccable plotline, character depictions, and the fluff was *chef’s kiss*!!! 20/10!!!

I wish I could showcase all of every review I’ve received this year, but sadly I would run out of space way too fast. Just know that if you’ve taken the time to review for me, I am grateful from the bottom of my heart 🙏🏻

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

Okay so I’ve already disclaimed it in the author’s note, but My Ex’s Best Friend by Machine Gun Kelly is the entire reason that then you showed up… exists.

Like honestly the line “I swear to god I never fall in love” just STUCK IN MY BRAIN as a very Mamoru-ish sentiment and I had to explore it. With instalove semi-blind-date hijinks.

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

Probably have to go with finishing day 6 (Reunion) of UsaMamo week this year (We Do This Every Time). I basically knew what I wanted to do with it as soon as the prompts dropped, but actually whipping it into shape and getting it to be near the level I envisioned it took me longer than I hoped it would!! Was very proud to get that monster off my TBW list 🤣

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I would like to refill my tank, tbh. As I mentioned above, it’s been a rough year and in many ways I’m running on fumes - and I do think that’s been reflected in my writing (or lack thereof) in this back half of the year.

So in an ideal world, I’d like to have the time and bandwidth to feel excited about writing again. And maybe also make some progress on Close to Home.

————

As always, I would love to see some other people do these! I’m not going to tag anyone, but if you see this and want to participate, consider yourself tapped in.

Cheers to the end of 2022!! May 2023 be a gentle and healthy year for you and yours 😘

[takadasaiko]

A Flicker of Light Drabble #5 (a Star Wars fic)

Summary: A series of canon divergent drabbles and shorts in which Luke Skywalker is raised within the Empire to be either his father’s heir as a Sith Lord… or his replacement.

Drabble Summary: Luke meets Emperor Palpatine.

Drabble #1 Drabble #2 Drabble #3 Drabble #4

----

Everything was big. The sky, the planet, and all the tall, tall buildings that Luke thought looked like should have been able to reach into space. There were so many of them. So many new things. When they’d come in, Father had even tilted the shuttle so Luke could see the mountains and the ocean off in the distance. It’d been so pretty that he’d crawled up on the dash just to get a better look before his father had pulled him back into his seat. He wanted to see it all, but Father wouldn’t let him. Not yet. Maybe after they did whatever it was that he didn’t want to do he’d take him to see the streets far below where they had landed. 

This place - Coruscant - was busier than where they lived in the big black castle with Vaneé. From the moment they landed he felt the unspoken order of silence filtered over their bond and Luke found himself having to run to catch up with his father’s long strides. When they crossed someone through the hangar or in the halls the person would stop, scooting out of their way and standing stiffly until they passed. They were scared - so was his father. He was just better at hiding it - but Luke didn’t know why. 

The further in they walked, the fewer people he saw. Finally they reached a lift and, once they were alone, his father turned his black mask towards him. “Say nothing unless spoken to. Say nothing more than to answer the question asked. Understood?”

“Yes, Father.” Luke said dutifully. He tried to reach out through the bond to cheer him up like he often did, but felt an immediate push back. Father didn’t want to be cheered up. He wouldn’t even let him try. 

The doors opened and Luke followed him out on his heels, not daring to be left behind. There were two Humans - he though so, anyway - in red robes standing at the door. They didn’t bow to his father, but opened the door for him. The room was huge and dark and cold. Colder than the castle, but he’d gotten used to that. Maybe this was why his father was afraid. Luke was a little scared now too. 

“Come closer, child,” a voice called from the shadows and Luke stopped, the want to run overwhelming. 

His father nudged him forward with the Force and he squinted, his eyes adjusting enough to see a figure in a dark robe sitting on a dark throne in the dark room. He took another step forward, then another, and a shiver ran down his spine at the wrinkled old man peering out from the robe with his yellow eyes.  He gave a strange smile that looked anything but friendly. “Yes,” he said, but Luke didn’t know what question he was answering. “You look just like your father did when I first met him. He was only a little older than you are now.”

Luke looked back at his father, hoping for some sort of direction. He didn’t receive any. That mask was as emotionless as ever.

The robed man looked him up and down and Luke felt pressure on his mind that sent another shiver through him. “And powerful too. I can feel it. You will stay here in the palace.”

“With my father?” Luke asked without stopping to remember the rule: Say nothing more than to answer the question asked. 

“We shall see,” the robed man said and Luke didn’t like that tone. He was lying. He wanted to take him away from his father. He wanted to steal him like Father had said Uncle Ben did. 

Luke started for his father - why did he seem so far away? - and with a small flick of the robed man’s hand, every muscle in his small body seemed to freeze. He couldn’t move and panic started to creep in. 

“Luke,” his father hissed, but Luke was already desperately fighting the hold as the fear built inside, threatening to overflow. 

“Let go!” Luke yelled and the glass behind the robe man cracked, the sound echoing through the room. Blue eyes found yellow and the big, black chair the robed man sat in lurched from where it was bolted to the floor, jolting him to standing. Luke saw rotting teeth as the man laughed and anger flooded his mind. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home. He wanted —

The glass exploded behind the robed man and sped towards him, stopping halfway to him as he held up his free hand, the one pointing at Luke as if to hold him in place twitching down and the boy hit the marble floor hard. 

“Yes. Very powerful indeed,” the robed man chuckled, his voice distant. “You’ve done well bringing him here, Lord Vader.”

Luke heard his father respond, but couldn’t make out what he said. Instead, as the room faded around him, he only felt the touch of his father’s mind over their bond, trying to calm him. But there was something else mixed with the reassurance. It was that heavy feeling that Luke would someday know was guilt.

---

Notes: I think this story could get much darker before it gets better and I'm on the fence on how much to show and how much to allude to. Like I said in my post yesterday, I just kind of want to wrap Luke up on a blanket and protect him.... but his journey in this story isn't and really can't be an easy one. At least Vader is a smidge softer with him, knowing him as a child versus an adult. He has someone on his side, for what good that does when that someone is enslaved by Palpatine.

I have a couple more drabbles before I get to introduce Mara and as much as I'm enjoying the exploration of Vader and kiddo Luke, I'm really excited for him to meet her.

For those reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[trixie-troubleby]

"after everything you've done, i still love you. with all i am." for glannithro?

hehehe thank youuuu hope you enjoy

He recognized him in an instant. How could he not? There were only so many sports elves prancing around the county. Even fewer with the stupid mustache. Although the leather armor was a new addition. It would’ve been a nice sight. Maybe even a welcome one, if it weren’t for the circumstances.

Getting arrested was bad enough. But being arrested by an ex? That was a new low for Glanni.

Everyday he woke up in a cold, small jail cell and then he was sent out to do whatever menial tasks they decided were ‘community service.’ And then he was escorted back.

“Officer Obtuse? You can go home. I’ll walk the prisoner back today.” Ithrottaalfurinn said, voice softer than usual as he looked at the criminal.

“No thank you.” Glanni spat, from where he’d been pulling weeds all day.

“Are you sure?” Obtuse asked with a small smile. “As long as the mayor is okay with it…” He smiled, jogging off with more energy than he usually had.

“Hi Glanni.” Ithro said, perched on the small wall around the garden.

“What do you want?” Glanni snapped.

“We just haven’t talked since…” Ithrottaalfurinn trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Since you listened to a buncha brats and threw me in jail?” Glanni snapped, rolling his eyes.

“Well yes, but before that…” Ithro said awkwardly, tilting his head to the side.

Glanni huffed, moving to sit down in the grass. He looked up at the elf, watching the setting sun behind him. It looked like he was glowing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Glanni lied.

Ithro snorted out a laugh, looking away from the criminal. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“I’m a different person.” Glanni responded. He had known Ithrottaalfurinn once. Back when the only thing he was looking for was a warm bed and strong arms to fall into at the end of the day. That was years ago.

“That’s what I thought too at first.” Ithro said. “You did… some things I didn’t know you were capable of.” The elf had the audacity to look sad.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Glanni grumbled. “I was a criminal back then too.”

“First of all, no matter how much you argue, it wasn’t squatting since I wanted you to be there.” Ithro rolled his eyes, and Glanni thought it was strange how easily they fell back into the arguments they had so long ago. “And secondly… I don’t consider any of it crimes when you were just trying to survive. No one got hurt.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah. I guess I don’t.” Ithro sighed, pushing himself off the fence. “C’mon. Back to the jail house.”

“Ugh.” Glanni groaned, pushing himself inelegantly to his feet. “The room’s too small. It’s driving me crazy.”

Ithrottaalfurinn opened his mouth to respond, then shut it and shook his head. He put a hand on Glanni’s shoulder, to lead him forward. The touch alone sent a shiver down his spine and he couldn’t help but remember…

He snapped himself out of it. There was no use dwelling in the past. It wasn’t that great anyways. Hiding out in the hero’s seldom used ‘home base’ in Mayhem Town. Stolen moments, stolen food. Light chastising before the hero sprinted off again to gods know where. Glanni had felt like a feral animal that the elf was trying to tame. A failed experiment in charity with only a few benefits. They were at the jail before Glanni finished his bitter reminiscing.

“You know…” Ithro sighed. Glanni was sitting in his cell, but the door was open, unlocked. Ithrottaalfurinn stood shaking his head. “I thought…” He took off his hat, running a hand through his hair. Something Glanni knew he only did out of the public eye. When he was nervous. “I thought seeing you again, I would feel differently–“

“Don’t–“ Glanni argued, but Ithro continued.

“But somehow even after all these years. After everything you’ve done–“

“Stop–“

“I still love you.”

“No you don’t.” Glanni snapped. He stepped closer to the elf. “And you didn’t love me. It was sex it was…” His eyes involuntarily flickered down to the lips under the ridiculous moustache. “Fun. But that’s all it was.”

“Why’d you leave?” Ithro responded, not backing down. He stepped forward, so close their chests almost brushed when either of them breathed. “If you were really just taking advantage of me, why would you stop?”

“I got bored.” Glanni snarled.

“You got scared.” Ithro said with such certainty that it scared the criminal. “Do you remember when you left? Because I do.”

“Shut up.”

“I tried to say it then but you wouldn’t let me.” Ithro shook his head with a laugh. “We could’ve been happy. We can be–“

“I said shut up!” Glanni closed the distance between them, pulling Ithrottaalfurinn up into a bruising kiss. He almost forgot how warm the elf was. How his lips were sweet despite only natural sugars passing through them. It had been hard to leave him before. He didn’t know if it was easier now. He pulled away as quickly as he started, and before Ithro had reacted to any of it, Glanni was gone.

[tears-and-smiles-ao3]

Petals In A Storm

Chapter 11: The hot springs

Fic masterpost

The next morning, Jaskier and Eskel showed up at the library again.

Jaskier sighed when they entered, looking at the mess he’d left behind yesterday. If he thought it was awful then, it was worse now.

Mounds of books lay like a collapsed house of cards, looking a lot like the keep itself now that Jaskier thought about it.

Eskel hummed, standing with his arms crossed and leaning against the door, his eyes flickering across the room.

“I’m sorry about this,” Jaskier blurted out. He hadn’t stopped criticising himself the whole night, asking himself why he couldn’t have been more careful. Of all the things to regret, it shouldn’t even have been the biggest one, but right now it plagued him.

“I don’t think this was your fault,” Eskel suggested, giving Jaskier a sheepish look before going back to scanning the area. “I think we have to get these books back into stacks. I know that’s not what you wanted.”

“We’re beyond what I wanted,” Jaskier huffed. He looked at Eskel and saw the little smile on his face, and, oh, didn’t that make him feel lighter.

He almost doesn’t even see the scars anymore, just the witcher’s shining dark eyes that look at him with such reverence.

“Okay,” Eskel declared, pushing himself off from the wall and moving over to the edge of the small mountain of books to begin their task.

It was going to take them forever, Jaskier thought morosely, and they were going to have to use the table as a place to put the books while they tried to create space.

Sighing, Jaskier gave up his dream of a truly organised library and stacked all the books on the table into a neat-ish pile. Then he walked over to Eskel and started gathering up the books the witcher had piled up.

Back and forth he went, his arms and legs getting a thorough workout, more exercise than he’s had in a long while.

He can feel himself sweating, the exertion making him want to pant, and they weren’t even that far along.

Eskel is watching him, too. Probably wondering why he is picking up fewer and fewer books each trip.

He was so weak.

“We should swap roles,” Eskel proposed, standing up.

Jaskier spins around at his words, looking over his face for a brief second before Eskel scooped the books out of his hands and walked over to the table to drop them unceremoniously.

Gaping at him, Jasikier stands there for a moment, then realises they’ve swapped places.

Eskel nods at where he’d been and Jaskier walks over, sinking down onto his hands and knees and starts stacking books beside him.

Each book moved brought more dust onto his palms and spiralling into the air as the pages flapped about. Little motes danced around his head each time Jaskier shuffled forward and grabbed more books to stack.

It was a long time before Jaskier looked up, seeing Eskel’s muscle flex as he easily picked up a dozen books. He wasn’t showing any signs of tiring and Jaskier could only pray that lunchtime would come soon as then he could get off his aching knees.

It’s not lunchtime but mid-afternoon by the time Sam appeared with pre-made rolls in hand.

Jaskier smiles at him briefly as he gets up, then winces as his muscles complain. He is just so relieved to get up from the floor and perch himself on the edge of the table, even if it’s now almost completely covered in books.

Sam is frowning at him, watching him eat.

“Are we sure that table isn’t going to collapse?” he asked, turning to Eskel.

The witcher shrugged. “If it does, hopefully it just moves down the way and not off to the side.”

“It better not collapse because I don’t want to clear up the same books again,” Jaskier grumbled, half mumbling through the bread in his mouth.

Sam nods, and they all fall quiet as they eat their food.

Eskel is the first to finish, moving back to ferrying books back and forth. Jaskier rushes to help, shoving the last of his roll into his mouth.

“Don’t choke, Jaskier,” Sam cautioned. “We won’t finish this all today, anyway.”

“I know, but the more we do, the better.”

“Sure, yes,” Sam agreed, getting up himself and settling into their production line. Back and forth they go, Jaskier handing books to Sam, Sam piling them up for Eskel, Eskel picking them up and moving them towards the table.

Then Sam made him swap, making Jaskier become the middleman.

“Your knees must be killing you,” Sam stated.

They were sore, sure, but why was everyone treating Jaskier like he couldn’t do this? This was his mistake, after all.

It’s now that Sam decides, while still on his knees and pulling books towards them, that he’ll regale them with tales of how Vesemir had spent most of the morning swearing about their poor library.

He’s laughing, turning around to hand a book to Jaskier, when he catches his eye and sees the horror on Jaskier’s face.

“Don’t worry about it, Vesemir just likes to grump, like all witchers,” Sam reassures, shaking his head.

Eskel laughs at Sam’s comment, but doesn’t say anything, and Jaskier wonders once more how this witcher can seem so different to the rest.

Sam was working like a machine, just like Eskel, but even so, Jaskier was still surprised to see that they had begun to make some space while piling up the books because Eskel wasn’t putting the books on or under the table any more, but right behind it.

“We are getting somewhere,” Eskel observed on one trip.

He looked like he had barely broken sweat while Jaskier felt like he had run many miles without stopping. Sam was looking dirty too, covered in dust from the floor.

“How much longer?” Jaskier gasped. A book almost fell out of his hands, his muscles refusing to cooperate from overuse.

Sam looked up at him, checking him over.

“Maybe you should sit down for a bit. I can do a bit more work before we all take a break.”

He was about to complain when he watched Eskel reach out and lead him back towards the table. He cleared a small square, then helped him sit down like a mother does to a child.

“Um, thanks,” Jaskier mumbled, unsure what else to say. The witcher just nodded and disappeared behind the stacks of books.

It was odd not being able to see them both now that they had indeed made progress.

Jaskier felt his mind drift, wondering what exactly the old library must have looked like. There must have been tables to read at, clear spaces, and books all neatly placed in bookcases.

He imagined a fireplace that was able to be lit because it wasn’t right beside the flammable objects, and many windows so that you could read in natural light.

It must have been beautiful.

He was pulled out of his musings by Eskel and Sam coming round the corner.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” Eskel encouraged, smiling.

Jaskier had assumed that his ears weren’t working correctly when Eskel said they were going to the hot springs.

“There’s hot springs? Seriously? And you are only just telling me this now?”

Sam laughed as Jaskier continued to ramble his confusion, and Eskel wore that soft smile he seemed to keep only for him.

Jaskier could feel himself practically running after Eskel, urging him to walk faster to get to these magical hot springs, his aching limbs almost forgotten.

They headed down a long set of stairs carved into the rock and emerged into a cavernous room filled with lots of little natural pools that were just enough for a single person and two larger pools.

Jaskier had assumed it would feel warm when they got here but the air was just as cold as outside the keep.

He shivered.

“Undress quickly and leave your clothes and towel by the edge,” Eskel instructed, stripping off efficiently and jumping into the pool. He ducked under the water for a few seconds, then emerged, looking up expectantly.

Sam quickly followed his directions, descending into the pool with a satisfied sigh. He moved around to the other side, sitting near to Eskel but leaving a person-shaped space. His head dropped back against the edge of the pool, making him look incredibly relaxed.

“Are you going to come in?” Eskel asked, pointing at the water. He paddled forward, urging Jaskier to get in.

“Yeah,” Jaskier agreed, bringing himself out of his slight trance.

Shucking off his clothes, Jaskier felt quite vulnerable. Usually, he revelled in undressing for someone and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why he felt strange right now.

As his clothes fell off, goosebumps appeared all over his skin and he shivered again. It was hardly dignified.

He sat down, swinging his legs into the pool, then shoved himself forward and sank into the water quickly, gasping in relief at the heat of the water.

His skin flushed heavily, the steam wafting up and making him sweat.

Paddling over, Jaskier found that the middle of the spring was a little deeper than the edges, but he made it across easily and settled in the space left for him between them.

Sam sat up immediately, grabbing a bar of soap and a small cloth and working them over his arms and legs.

Jaskier watched for a moment, but turned to look at Eskel when he felt his eyes on him.

“Hi,” said Jaskier weakly, his face feeling hot.

Eskel looked at him, licking his lips playfully.

“Do my back?” Sam asked, and Jaskier’s head whipped around to look at him.

Standing up, he took the bar from Sam and wet it, before rubbing it gently across the baker’s back.

Being naked with Sam was not something they normally did together, and certainly not with another person also completely naked nearby.

Jaskier let his hands work over the soft yet strong planes of Sam’s back, moving them reverentially over the muscle from all the years rolling out dough.

Eskel was definitely watching them. Jaskier could feel his eyes, and when he glanced back, he saw the witcher’s smile.

There was a softness in his gaze. It made Jaskier feel hotter each time.

Biting his lip, Jaskier turned back and finished helping Sam out as quickly as he could so he could slink beneath the water again and hide evidence of his growing excitement.

Sam dunked himself beneath the water, soapy bubbles spreading across the surface.

When he emerged, he handed the soap over to Jaskier and then sat on his left again. The soap lay in his hands for a long moment while Jaskier thought about anything else than his throbbing cock.

Why was washing Sam in Eskel’s presence turning him on so much?

Eskel grabbing the soap out of his hands made him jump, a little squeak leaving his mouth.

Sam chuckled, pulling Jaskier into his arms and kissing him sweetly while Eskel rubbed the soap across his own skin.

“It’s okay, remember, if you want to touch Eskel. I don’t mind,” Sam whispered, his breath ghosting across Jaskier’s lips.

Jaskier shuddered, the feeling of arousal flooding through him and it was Sam who was encouraging him.

He felt Sam’s hands on his shoulders, turning him to face Eskel.

Then, Sam pushed him forward, making Jaskier almost fall into Eskel’s arms.

It was only then that Jaskier glanced back at Sam, watching him nod at him encouragingly.

Turning to face Eskel, the witcher’s hands ran soothingly up his arms, and then down, underneath the water.

Jaskier gulped.

Eskel’s hands tickled against Jaskier’s wrists, then he turned his hands and placed the soap into his grip.

“Could you- um,” Eskel’s words seemed to be sucked back into his mouth, but Jaskier’s brain clicked back into gear suddenly.

Oh. Right.

Nodding, he watched the witcher turn around and then began caressing the soap against his back with its many scars. Jaskier’s fingers gently traced over them as he went, much like they had during their last coupling, and it made his body sweat even more.

When he was finished, the witcher dunked himself in the water, before turning and rising before him.

Jaskier felt his breath choke in his throat as he focused on Eskel’s broad chest, his bulging muscles.

His blood pumped hard through his body, yet all the while he could hear Sam humming behind him. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

Eskel leaned into his ear and whispered, “Turn around.”

Jaskier found himself obeying without thinking and quickly Eskel’s hands were on him. He soaped up his back, then reached around and lathered up his chest, rubbing so tenderly across his erect nipples.

Trembling, Jaskier’s body was on fire, his blood was singing.

Through it all, Sam was watching him, his curious eyes taking in his reaction. There was a small soft upturn in his lips, almost like he found the whole thing humorous.

Jaskier felt himself gulping again as, instead of dunking him under the water, Eskel used the cloth to wash away the soap. He knew his cock was already hard and he knew Sam could see it.

After what felt like an eternity, Eskel sat back down again, leaving Jaskier standing alone.

Jaskier turned, looking between them both.

The witcher was breathing hard, clearly just as excited as Jaskier was.

Sam still had that smile on his face.

Back and forth, Jaskier swung his head to look at each of them in turn. He felt frozen as he tried to puzzle out what was happening here.

It was Eskel who made the first move, pulling Jaskier to sit back down between them. Jaskier’s mind was running riot with painful thoughts, even as his treacherous body was pumping all his blood southwards.

This wasn’t going to work, Jaskier cursed himself. Sam, him and Eskel couldn’t even share a quiet bath together because Jaskier got aroused.

Fuck.

“I can hear you thinking,” Eskel announced, and that made Jaskier jerk back, looking at him.

Geralt had often said the same thing to him, usually when Jaskier was ‘being too much’.

“I- uh, sorry,” Jaskier stammered, his fingers tangling together as he fidgeted. He glanced up at Eskel and their eyes met briefly before the witcher’s flickered to Sam behind him.

Eskel made a small nod, then he leaned forward and kissed Jaskier.

Jaskier could hear himself whimper, his body tense and his mind screaming at him that Sam was there, but then he felt warm calloused hands wrap around his middle and a soft kiss placed on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Sam whispered into his ear. His hands were an anchor, keeping Jaskier from floating away in this storm they were creating.

Eskel pulled back, smiling, and Jaskier just panted. He glanced back at Sam, who kissed his cheek briefly and then they were kissing like they normally would.

Jaskier almost choked when he felt Eskel wrap a hand around his cock. Pulling back from Sam’s kiss, he began to scold Eskel. “No, not with Sam here.”

“It’s fine. Continue, Eskel,” Sam instructed.

The witcher’s hand tightened, making Jaskier groan. He looked at Sam, worried, but Sam just kissed him again.

It was a struggle focusing on both sensations, wanting to make it good for both people. He knew he was kissing Sam sloppily now, hardly any finesse.

His moans, that were for Eskel, were swallowed up by Sam’s mouth.

Jaskier could feel Eskel move his hand, pulling it down to wrap around the witcher’s length and encourage him to reciprocate.

He gripped tight, stroking slowly as his thumb gently circled the head.

The witcher panted into his shoulder.

At some point, Sam had stopped kissing him and instead rested his forehead against his. They looked into each other’s eyes.

“Kiss Eskel,” he asked of Jaskier.

Jaskier turned, looking at the witcher and hesitating, his eyes wide.

He glanced back at Sam, who nodded.

Sam pushed Jaskier’s torso forward and covered his back with his chest, whispering encouragement into his ear.

Fuck, how had this happened? Jaskier felt so out of his depth that he clung to Eskel as their lips met. It was overwhelming, feeling the heat of the witcher’s lips, his hand firmly stroking him under the water, and then the ghost of Sam’s breath across his neck.

He heard himself moaning loudly despite the kiss swallowing most of his noises. He knew he sounded wrecked.

It was so difficult to concentrate. He felt himself slowly stop kissing the witcher, his chest heaving with the effort not to come on the spot.

As he let his head roll back, panting hard, he felt Eskel’s lips latch onto the neck, nipping just below his ear.

Sam moved backwards, his warmth leaving his back.

Panicked, Jaskier jerked his head round and, oh, he did not expect to see Sam stroking his own cock while he watched them.

Their eyes locked and that was it for Jaskier. He felt his orgasm wash through him, his whole body thrumming in pleasure, all while Eskel nipped at his neck.

He was still gasping for breath when Eskel wrapped his own hand around Jaskier’s and began jerking himself off quickly. It didn’t take long before he spilled, huffing against Jaskier’s shoulder.

For a second, all Jaskier could hear was Eskel’s breath, but then Sam made a muffled groan and Jaskier knew he had come too.

It was then that Eskel laughed. Then Sam joined in.

“Come here,” Sam said, pulling at Jaskier to sit back against the wall and wrapping his arms around his middle. Eskel’s broad arm sat across his shoulder.

The two of them were still chuckling and Jaskier tried to relax into it, he really did, but he couldn’t stop the twitching of his fingers.

Still, when Sam asked him if he was alright, Jaskier lied and said he was fine.

He couldn’t quite find the words to express what he was feeling. His relationship with Sam was definitely changing and Eskel seemed cautious yet happy with what happened.

Despite that, he couldn’t keep Sam’s earlier words about jealousy from his thoughts.

He needed space to muddle this over.

Dinner went by in a blur. Jaskier was barely paying attention to anything that happened.

He even played his songs on automatic pilot.

Somehow, he ended up in Eskel’s bed without even blinking an eye.

The witcher’s hands roamed his body, like he was trying to get some life back into him. Jaskier groaned, feeling thoroughly spent after today.

“Can we just cuddle?” Jaskier asked, and Eskel pulled back, searching his face for answers.

“I’m okay, just a bit exhausted,” he reassured.

Eskel nodded, lying on his back and pulling Jaskier over his chest. They lay like that, wrapped in the furs, the fire crackling, already reduced to embers. The slow thump of the witcher’s heartbeat was lulling him to sleep.

“You mean a lot to me,” he thought he heard Eskel say, but his mind was already swirling with strange images, dreams threatening to take him.

He felt like he was swimming in a warm blue ocean, the sun setting on the horizon.

For a second, all was peaceful, and then he was being shaken, his body thrashing against something large and solid.

His eyes opened, his breath hitched, and he saw Eskel with his brows furrowed and his eyes apologetic.

“You can’t sleep here, remember?” Eskel explained, cupping Jaskier’s face with his hand. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Jaskier hadn’t realised just how late it was until they walked out into the freezing cold of the corridor. He shuddered involuntarily.

“Come here,” Eskel encouraged, wrapping his arm around him and then rubbing him up and down, trying to warm him up while they walked down the hallway.

His teeth had started chattering when they turned the corner and bumped into a figure in the darkness. Jaskier squeaked before he knew what he was doing, trying to hide behind the bulk of Eskel.

“Eskel, Jaskier,” Geralt said in greeting, his golden eyes flickering between them both.

Jaskier let himself walk back round in front of the silver-haired witcher. In the dim light, it looked like his brows were quirked but Jaskier wasn’t sure.

“Sweet Melitele, you scared me. Do you all take turns to roam the halls at night?” Jaskier asked, thinking back to last night when he had heard Eskel walking about.

“Hmmm,” Geralt hummed. “It’s late, you should both be asleep.”

Jaskier waved his hands about dramatically as if shooing away the nonsense Geralt was saying.

“I am being escorted to bed, as you can see.”

Geralt looked up at Eskel, frowning. “You’re up early tomorrow, I can take it from here.”

Eskel just nodded, turned to Jaskier and said with a soft smile on his face, “Good night.”

Jaskier’s mouth is hanging open, he knows, but he can’t help it as he watches Eskel walk away.

He turned to glare at Geralt.

“Did you just send Eskel to bed?”

“Yes,” Geralt admitted. He begins walking in the opposite direction from Eskel, back down the corridor he had come up, as if he expected Jaskier to follow.

He only stopped when he noticed Jaskier wasn’t coming. Looking back momentarily, Geralt’s eyes held his, and then he turned, walking away.

Jaskier realised he was going to be left on his own, and hurried to catch up.

“Why?” he asked to the witcher’s back.

Geralt was quiet, as he usually was when Jaskier asked a question, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to find out the answer.

“There was no reason for him to be up when it’s my turn to check the halls.”

Oh. So, there was a rota for this sort of thing.

“Do you think Eskel just found me out wandering in the halls?”

“No.”

“Oh, well. Good.”

There was silence again for a long time, then just as Jaskier was about to speak again, Geralt spoke.

“How does asexuality work?”

Jaskier’s mouth gaped again. After everything that had happened since they had left Oxenfurt, Jaskier honestly didn’t know what he expected any longer.

Yet, this. This puzzled Jaskier. Why did Geralt want to know?

“Um, Sam would be best to tell you that.”

“What do you get out of it?” Geralt asked.

The question wasn’t something Jaskier had ever had a defining answer to. He looked up at the witcher, almost walking into a wall.

“Sam cares about me,” is all he can think to say.

“But I’ve seen you kiss.”

“Well, yeah, we are intimate. There’s kissing and cuddles, he just doesn’t want to be touched sexually.”

Except, he clearly can touch himself sexually, Jaskier’s mind helpfully supplied.

“So, it’s like romantic friends?” Geralt asks.

“Sam is my friend, yes, but I think he is more than that. He is, well, my partner.”

“But you sleep with others,” Geralt states. He must see Jaskier’s shoulders tense because he quickly adds, “I meant, how does that work?”

“Why, dear witcher, looking to get into an open relationship? Polyamory, perhaps?”

“I- I’m just curious. All those years on the road…” Geralt trailed off. Jaskier was just about to say something back when Geralt stopped.

“We’re here. Goodnight.”

Then he walked off, leaving Jaskier open-mouthed again and staring at him as he disappeared round a corner.

Jaskier crawled into bed and pondered the words Geralt had said and the ones he hadn’t.

What did he mean, ‘all those years on the road’? Did he mean something could have happened between them? Was Geralt open to more than just Yennefer as a relationship? Yennefer was so scary, he couldn’t imagine her wanting Geralt fucking someone else while they were in a relationship.

Maybe that wasn’t what Geralt meant at all. Maybe he meant they could have been friends with benefits on the road. They could just help one another and it wouldn’t be anything more. He tried to make himself imagine it, but his heart felt like it was getting stabbed with a million small needles.

He was staring at the ceiling, which he couldn’t really see in the dark but he knew it was there, when he heard a noise in the hall. It was probably Geralt, or maybe Eskel if enough hours had passed.

He scrunched his eyes shut. He would sleep. He had to sleep. It was dark outside and Sam was in bed with him, so it had to still be late at night.

Jaskier sighed quietly so as not to wake Sam but enough to make himself feel better.

His mind kept flashing back to all the time Geralt had shown even the slightest bit of interest in him. When he had given him the smallest of smiles, or pulled him close during the coldest of nights out on the road.

The times he had said ‘thank you’ when Jaskier had mended his wounds for him, or wordlessly grateful when he’d paid for their meal or their beds for the night when contracts were lean.

Then the words Jaskier hated to hear echoed in his head and all those images crumbled.

If life could give me one blessing…

Tears ran down his face and he shifted, wrapping his arms around the pillow and silencing the noises he was making before eventually falling asleep.

Next chapter

[mentally-illenial]

Content Warning ⚠️ : drug mention, PTSD, stress and complaining

We officially sold the big car yesterday. There's a demand for used and new cars right now; dealerships have been shrinking in inventory since last summer. So a local dealership was quick to offer us our asking price, which is a godsend, honestly. But I didn't feel any relief or happiness about it yesterday. I know it's going to take a huge chunk out of our bill debt, and I'm incredibly grateful we had the resource to use as needed... But I feel bad. I feel guilty about selling a very generous gift that we only had for a year. I feel stressed that we had to downsize because we can't even afford something as simple as the gas for the big car, let alone should anything happen to it. I'm stressed that we lost a valuable vehicle, as our family is ever growing and genuinely could use the extra space and power (towing, storage, etc). And I'm anxious as fuck about the financial situation still. I've been applying for jobs regularly, and without bias; I had an interview at the most depressing Aldi store I've ever seen in my life the other day. I'm willing to work in service or retail hell to keep us balanced. But I'm honestly not content with the situation. And though selling the car brings in a significant amount of monetary relief, it feels like I've just borrowed a couple more days of uneasy peace, and that nothing has actually improved.

Last night I was feeling so upset, so I took a kpin before bed. I was tired and needed the sleep, but the anxiety and stress were making my body and mind so tense that it felt like I wasn't even lying there, but instead floating out of pure tension just over the sheets lol. I did knock out eventually, but now I'm groggy and just kind of bummed out today. I have a run that I'm planning to get to soon, and that's a nice thing to look forward to. But then it's back to the job grind, taking care of the house/husband/pups, and just trying to keep moving on. I'm out of a lot of core recipe ingredients. I'm out of my DOC (coffee lol); I have black tea, so at least my caffeine addiction is placated. My husband is just as picky as his kids and prefers foods that I don't have or don't have the ingredients to make right now... And my PTSD gives me extreme anxiety when someone close to me even comes off as upset, whoops.

My goal is to just tighten all the belts and just make it through this summer. I don't want the kids to worry or feel pressured about our financial issues. It's not their responsibility or burden to carry. Unexplainably luckily, my sister and mom have offered to help with groceries while the kids are here, so that's one fewer stressor on my mind for the next two months. Granted, they're preteen and teenaged, so they eat like rabid ship rats lol, so I'm not certain how long things will last. But they do enjoy some very cheap and easy meals like pancakes and chicken and dumplings, so that's stuff I can whip up with relatively cheap ingredients. But I'll have to keep looking for work while trying to keep everyone afloat.

It's not very helpful, also, that it seems all my husband wants to talk about or watch/listen to is bad news. I realize everything is awful right now and good news is few and far between, but every day, all day, he just wants to reiterate all the awful things happening around and to us. It's just his modus operandi for processing, I think, but it really wears me down. I KNOW how fucking terrible everything is. I KNOW how corrupt the government and the powerful corporations they shield are, despite the dire needs of the very people and economy that fund their existence. I KNOW the earth is dying and supply chains are breaking down and people are being violent all the time. Even when I try my damndest to ignore anything but good news/content, the realities seep through. And having my only constant human contact and partner constantly reiterating the awful echoes of our current realities just makes me feel so pressurized. There's no true relief to be had anywhere.

Blegh. Sorry if you read all that and are bummed out now lol. I just don't have anywhere else to put this weight. Which reminds me, I'm also supposed to be looking for a therapist right now... ugh. I hope everyone is hanging in there and doing okay right now. 💙