#and she probably saw a bunch of methods when she was with the doctor

[beezusvreeland]

dear reader - chapter 8

summary: Miguel took the reader’s love and friendship for granted. Something he learns reading her column, when it’s too late…Or is it?

ship: miguel o'hara x f!reader // matt murdock x reader

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Chapter 8

Miguel tried to make as little noise as possible while he moved through the kitchen trying to figure out what to cook for dinner. You were asleep on the couch, mouth slightly opened and body curled to the side. Before getting up from the floor, Miguel spent a few minutes observing your sleepy figure breathing in and out. He was mesmerized by how relaxed you looked. It was so rare to see you like this. Always the one taking care of everything and everyone, including him. How was Miguel realizing that just now? The two of you had been friends for so long. 

In fact, your restlessness had been something Miguel and the boys regularly used to tease and poke fun at you. “Just relax, darling”, Hobie would say, and they would go on insinuating that having a more active sex life could make things better for you. You would roll your eyes at them and say: “I’m not taking advice from a bunch of manwhores. Except you, Pav, you are a gentleman”. 

Sometimes Miguel would keep at it, just to see how far he could go, what it would take for you to break. He didn’t mean any harm by it, he just got a kick out of watching you, always so proper and poised, losing your composure. Your cheeks turning red, lips pouting and your speech getting faster and confusing the more bothered you felt. It was funny then. 

But things have changed since Miguel started reading your column. Or rather, his perception of you. There was so much more to you. It was fascinating to learn more about the way you saw the world, with so many nuances and big feelings and the way you were able to express it through your writing. How could one be so sensitive and articulate at the same time? If the therapy sessions with doctor Octavius taught him anything, it was the fact that discussing feelings and analyzing his own memories and actions was extremely hard. Probably one of the hardest things Miguel has ever done.

In his science and objectivity brain, he thought therapy would be like any other doctor’s appointment: get in, talk about what’s wrong, get a prescription and get out. Doctor Octavius very patiently explained that his practice worked with a different approach. 

“Our process isn’t fast or linear. I can’t tell you how long it will take, it’s different for each patient. Some people come in for a few sessions and feel like that’s enough, others have been in therapy for their entire lives”, the doctor explained. “What I can tell you with certainty is that this is a safe space for you to express yourself. It’s an hour of the week all to yourself, without phones, notifications or other people’s demands. And you are free to leave and never come back if you feel that this method doesn’t make sense to you. But I hope you at least give our dynamic a chance.”

He did. There were only a handful of people in his life that he actually liked and doctor Octavius was becoming one of them. Also, Miguel didn’t have any more energy to try and find someone new. That’s why Lyla would work with him for the rest of his life, if it was up to him. She just got it. And he really appreciated that.

For the first time in his life, he was revisiting his childhood. Miguel and his younger brother, Gabriel, were raised by a single mother who overworked herself to get food on the table. There wasn’t time to discuss emotions, anything other than survival felt trivial. She did the best she could, he knew that now. But when he won his first science fair, in second grade, the young boy became addicted to the attention and praise he got from classmates and adults. Over the years, Miguel realized that if he kept focused on school, winning scholarship after scholarship, things would be better, there were so many other opportunities out there. 

And he got them, while distancing himself from his origins, reinventing himself. Now that he achieved the things he wanted the most, like the cars, the house in an expensive neighborhood and the big office with a leather couch, it all just felt…empty. 

“Miguel?”

You enter the kitchen with a yawn, scratching your eyes. The power was still out and the house was poorly lit by the moon and a big flashlight Miguel found in his basement. 

“Gosh, that was one hell of a nap”, you stretched your arms up. “It might enter my top 3 list of best naps I’ve ever had.”

“I can tell by the drool on your mouth.”

Your hand immediately went to your mouth. There was nothing there. 

“Ha-ha.”

“That was too easy”, Miguel grinned, pleased with how rested you looked and that this interaction felt more like the ones the two of you used to have. It was familiar, comforting even. Like the scent of the vanilla soap his mom used to wear or the two friendly slaps Hobie would give his back every time they met. 

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. 

“What are we having for dinner?”

“Cheese, bread and olives”, he said. “Don’t look at me like that, without electricity the options were very limited.”

“I’m honestly shocked that you actually eat bread and cheese. Doesn’t that offend your gym diet or whatever?”

“We all have guilty pleasures, cariño, mine happen to be carbs and Gossip Girl.”

Your lack of response alerted Miguel of what he had just said. Nobody knew about his recent obsession with the show beyond Lyla. What if you somehow connected the dots that he started watching it after reading your column? What if you actually found out he read your column? He wasn’t supposed to know that you were the one behind “Dear reader”. 

“Wait, what?”, a smile took over your face. “Did I just hear it right?”

His body relaxed with your amusement. Maybe it would be better for him just to admit and run with it. 

“I hate Serena van der Woodsen”, Miguel declared. 

“I don’t even know how to react to this revelation”, you leaned on the counter for support, expression still stunned and amused. “How did this even happen?”

“She slept with her best friend’s boyfriend, disappeared, then came back like nothing happened, always runs away from conflict and every single time she speaks like talking to other people was exhausting and…”

“Okay, obviously there is a lot to unpack here”, you grabbed the cheeseboard on top of the counter and gave it to Miguel, who started to cut the cheese. “How do you even know what Gossip Girl is?”

He freezed for a second.

“Did Lyla put you to it?”, you chuckled. “What can’t she do?” 

“Sí…it was Lyla. I lost a bet”, it was the best he could come up with at that moment.

You nodded, smirking. 

“So you hate Serena, huh? Who else do you hate?”

Miguel put the knife on the sink and turned to you.

“Who don’t I hate? They’re terrible, all of them, Chuck, Dan, Vanessa, the parents…”

You laughed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

“That’s what makes them so entertaining, isn’t it?”

“Mmm, you got a point, cariño”, he stopped for a moment and added: “I do like Dorota, though”. 

“Blair’s maid?”

“She is not just a maid, she is basically a mother figure for Blair.”

“Dorota is also in most of Blair’s schemes…”

“Nuh-uh, cariño. Most times she tries to put some sense in that girl’s head.”

You frowned your brows, smiling. 

“I can’t believe this is a conversation we’re actually having. When did you go soft, mr. O’Hara?”

“I’m not soft.”

“Uh, yes you are. You’re a big soft softie, defending characters of a TV show made for teens that ended a decade ago”, you mocked.

Miguel gave you a serious look. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me, my friend”, you pretended to lock your mouth with an imaginary key. 

Opening it again with the same imaginary key, you added: “But in case I’m ever offered a lot of money to sell any of your secrets to a corporate spy, this is the one I’m going to choose”.

“I forgot you started hallucinating when you get hungry, cariño.”

“Just think about it, they’ll think they’re stealing sensitive data from your research at Alchemax, but it’s actually just a sheet ranking the Gossip Girl characters you hate from most to least hated.”

“Why can’t you just be angry when hungry like most people?”

“It’s a brilliant plan, you’ll be thanking me someday. Hopefully at the IgNobel ceremony. You’ll have to take me to that, by the way.”

“You know it’s the Nobel prize, right?”

“Yes yes, I’m not stupid, I’m just hungry”, you give his shoulder a playful slap. “The IgNobel is another science award, but for more…unusual findings. Studies about the brain chemistry of people who see Jesus on toasts or a theory that humans developed beards to protect themselves from getting punched on the face?

“Cariño, Jesus…”

“Do you see him on toast too?”

“Enough weird science, let’s eat.”

“I’ll send you the link, it happens every year and it’s actually really funny. I’m sure Alchemax could send some stuff for consideration.”

Miguel actually laughs at that. He pretended to hate your energy bursts, but he loved it. You were a sweet drunk and a funny hungry person. 

“You know what? I might actually look into it.”

Miguel brought the cheeseboard to the living room and opened a red wine that, judging by the label, was probably very expensive. You sat on the floor and toasted, then started eating. 

It felt nice. Just to be there eating good food with you and enjoying a comfortable silence. And you looked so pretty with your new haircut and eyes closed while savoring the meal…

A loud sound made the two of you jump. An electronic song started playing from somewhere in the room.

“Shit, it’s my phone”, you got up to find it in your purse.

When you did, you looked at the screen and smiled. 

“I have to take this, I’ll be right back”, you said, going to the next room. 

The little bubble you lived in for a few hours burst. Miguel thought it was a little weird, you had a tendency to forget your phone completely while spending quality time with your friends. Maybe it was a work thing or your family checking in with you after the storm. 

It had been a few minutes since you left when he started to feel uneasy. He got his phone from his pocket. A few texts in the friends’ group chat and one from Lyla:

ARE YOU ALIVE??????!

Sí, he answered, knowing that she hated monosyllabic answers. 

But it had been ten minutes then and he had reorganized the cheese on the board, drank more wine and stretched his body and you still hadn’t come back.

I’m at my place with y/n.

I KNEW IT, SHE IS THE ONE YOU’VE BEEN PINING FOR!!! AAAA

No, just friends

OH, PLEASE, MIGUEL, IF I WERE STUPID YOU WOULDN’T HAVE HIRED ME

Qué

UGH REALLY?

PENDEJO

Don’t use my language against me

OH I WILL IF THAT’S WHAT MAKES YOU LISTEN TO REASON

…

YOU CAN’T JUST THROW THE INFO THAT YOU’RE TOGETHER AND LEAVE ME HERE

Just friends

UGH

IS SHE NEXT TO YOU RIGHT NOW?

No, she’s been on the phone 

It’s been almost 15 minutes now

SHIT

What’s that supposed to mean? 

???

Lyla???

????????

Damn it, Lyla!!!! 

SHE PROBABLY HAS A BOYFRIEND AND I’M GUESSING IT ISN’T YOU

Nonsense

FOR THE FIRST TIME YOU’LL HAVE TO WORK FOR IT

IN THE DATING DEPARTMENT

…

KEEP ME INFORMED 

***

Dear reader,

Intimacy can mean different things for each person. It’s something that, as women, we start building with one another since childhood. We all remember our very best friends, who we shared moments and secrets that we remember to this day. Or that one girl in middle school that we were friends with for only a few months that might as well have been years, because it caused a huge impact on us. They taught me how to be vulnerable and resilient. In many ways, those friendships were my first loves. 

Recently, my editor sent me an infographic with data about you, dear readers. Nothing creepy, just things like age range and general location, you know, information every website collects. I must say, I was surprised to find that 30% of you identify as male. It didn't occur to me that this space would be of interest to you, but I’m glad it is.

Talking about intimacy reminds me of this one guy I was friendly with in college. We met in a class we had together and started talking, which evolved to texting. Our conversations revolved around homework and a sitcom we both watched. To me, it wasn’t something too deep. But to him, it was. He would bring that show up all the time, as if by itself, our one shared interest made us closer than we actually were. Like that was enough for me to fall for him, when he was actually being sort of annoying and creeping me out. 

It never occurred to him to ask questions about me or my other interests. It was all about him and his perception, which was more of a fantasy than anything. No wonder so many women are frustrated in their relationships with men: they can’t match the intimacy we’ve built with each other.

However, things have been changing and women are no longer accepting to be alone in their relationships. I know I’m not. So male readers, if you take anything from this column, I hope it is this: open yourselves up, look beyond yourselves and catch up. We’ve been doing the hard work for a very long time.

That’s it for today. Next week, I’ll be answering a few of your questions, make sure to write to me in the box below. The authors shall remain anonymous and, the hate mail, ignored. 

Until then, never take advice from someone who’s falling apart. 

Love,

The writer

***

You came back to the living room to find Miguel playing a game on his phone. He didn’t look up to you.

“Sorry I took so long, I lost track of time”, you said sitting back on the floor and taking a sip of your glass of wine. 

“It’s alright”, Miguel put his phone away. “Was it work?”

“No”, you giggled. “It was Matt, he was checking if was okay after the storm.”

“Matt?”

Miguel had a confused expression on his face, which, by experience, you knew to be fake. He had been there when Foggy talked about your first date with Matt. Why he was pretending like he didn’t know, you had no idea.

“This guy I’m seeing. You know, Foggy’s friend? The lawyer?”

“Ah, right.”

“Things have been going really well.”

Miguel didn’t say a thing, filling his mouth with cheese instead. 

“He asked me to go to this fancy auction gala with him as his date. I’m excited for it.”

“Sounds like a swell guy.”

“He is.”

“A lawyer, huh? Which firm does he work in?”

“He has his own, actually.”

“Mmm.”

“Mig, what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing, I’m just eating.”

“You looked less than impressed with what I just told you.”

“How was I supposed to react, cariño?”, he sounded annoyed. As much as you told yourself that you were over him, his tone took you back to the worst days of your infatuation with him, when no matter how much you tried to impress him, he would always end up taking somebody else home. 

But the thing is, you were no longer that girl. No matter how hurt you were or how much you liked Miguel, you weren’t taking shit from anyone anymore. 

“You were supposed to be happy for me.” 

Your delivery was calm and serious, which you could see threw Miguel off. “I have an actual shot at love and someone great who’s willing to give it to me. This never happened to me before. I never felt worthy of it”, you took a deep breath. “Why can’t you root for me like I’ve always rooted for you?”

Looking at Miguel, you didn’t find the big hot shot scientist, but rather just a guy who had no idea of what he was doing. 

You got up and went to the bathroom, well aware that you couldn’t be there with him anymore. You couldn’t go backwards and fall apart when Miguel didn’t think highly of you. No matter how much you tried, it just wasn’t going to happen. 

You washed your face and threw some water on your neck to relieve some of the tension. When you opened the door, Miguel was waiting for you. 

“Miguel…”

“I know, I know, cariño, please, just listen to me?”, he asked and you rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. Of course I’m rooting for you…I guess I’m just protective of you and you haven’t had many boyfriends, so we never really had to go through this…What I’m saying is, I don’t know the guy, so I was suspicious and I shouldn’t be.”

“I’m a big girl, Miguel. I can handle myself”, sensing he was going to interrupt, you continue. “I appreciate your concern, but you can’t use that tone with me ever again. Do you understand?”

“Sí, cariño, lo siento”, he nodded. 

[yes, honey, I’m sorry]

“And if not knowing Matt bothers you so much, I’ll bring him to the bar one of these days and introduce you two.”

“Of course.”

You were emotionally drained. It was like having to explain very basic notions regarding people’s feelings to a big man child. In spite of it, you were proud of yourself for standing your ground and demanding the level of care and respect you deserved. A few months ago that would’ve been impossible.

“Cariño”, Miguel called, his big brown eyes filled with regret. “I just wanted to tell you I…”

He was interrupted by a loud noise, followed by people cheering on the street. The lights were back on.

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dear reader playlist

[rumblelibrary]

hii!! i saw your requests are open, if you’re not too busy could you write something about Laszlo falling in love with reader (she’s a friend of Sara’s and helping with the case) but he keeps trying to avoid his feelings and remain professional and friendly until then he gets jealous of Marcus (or maybe John whoever you think works best) and starts being mean and pushing her away and then John or Sara are like “really?? can you not see that she likes you?” and he apologizes and it’s all fluffy at the end??

that was a bit long sorry, i hope you’re having a great day💗���

Worlds Apart [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Reader]

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Laszlo being his usual adorable dumbass

Author’s note: Thank you so much for giving me the chance to write your story, hope you’ll enjoy it 💗💗

The first time your presence graced him was on an infamous rainy day. He didn’t mind rain, but it was the kind of storm that forced kids inside the Institute and some of them really benefitted of the time spent outside. So when you appeared at his doorstep escorted by Cyrus, a little of wetness on your shoulders and your hat, arms tightly grasping a big bunch of paper folders, untouched by the heavy weather clearly at your expenses, you looked like a gift from the above.

“Sara Howard contacted me, My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I work for the Town Hall Archives” you introduced yourself, a polite smile softening him. “It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Dr Kreizler” you added.

He blinked realising he was staring while your words moved past him without affecting him.

“Please, Sara told me you are going to be vital in the unravelling of this case, call me Laszlo”

He opened his arm on side letting you in as Cyrus walked away closing the door behind himself. A sense of guilt creeping over him, he realised how low his mind went to appreciate your physical side first and your sweet smile next, if men were anything different from the beasts, then why indulge still in such raw details. From that moment on, he decided, he would not do you the same disrespect. Little he knew that once he forbid himself to take grace of the sight of you, he would be overwhelmed by your bright mind. As you exposed those files to him you two started working together, day after day, time after time, a little dance of turning pages, soft smile, excited discoveries. Your smile affecting him in unpredicted ways, your good heart weakening his mask, your calm demure forbidding his raging fits. Anything of you made him better, any part of you was loved and worshipped by him, your position quickly transitioning from helpful hand, to admirable being and now to an ideal. A sense of necessity creeping over him every time you closed the space between the two of you to show him something, every time he stared at you wrapped up some archive ladder to find this or that file. Another thing you earned from him with time, the hardest maybe, was the ability to make him chuckle. You weren’t a goofball but you knew when to break down his thought process to bring him back to a quieter state. He liked you, he was even considering to offer you to leave the Town Hall Archives to work as his secretary at the Institute. The benefits of your presence made his work better and your natural tendency to method blessing his day to day activities with balance. Laszlo didn’t like to admit it, but a sense of possessiveness was also growing on him, he knew what was going on in his mind, or to better say it in his heart, but he refused to acknowledge it. The case was on, after the case maybe.

Or maybe never.

That’s what he thought when, after an interview at the house of a potential future patient of the institute, he took a stroll on the main road, his eyes darting on the flower shop only to recognise you there. Your figure associated with the colourful gifts of nature made his heart skip a beat, a sense of joy filled him soon to disappear when Marcus Isaacson figure appeared beside you holding three or four different kind of flowers in large bouquets, all of them meaning something love related: attraction, desire, kinship.

Those meanings pestered his thoughts, your soft laugh hitting his ears like an angel choir. Your hand lifting up as Marcus bowed his head toward you, your bare fingers running through his curls pulling out some wild leaf that got tangled among them.

“Silly me” he chanted like a child that has zero guilt about earning something undeserved “Come on Y/N, pick your favourite, I can’t hold them all forever”.

Laszlo’s eyes narrowed on him, hating the urgency in his voice, before drifting on the big bouquets, the carnations attracting his gaze, the meaning: pure love, faithfulness, also motherly love.

“The carnations” you said without a doubt moving your arms among the flower to pick them, the closeness you shared rubbing Laszlo in the wrong way.

A sudden realisation hitting him, rage boiling as he turned on his heels to rush to the Institute. What a fool he was, mistaking your natural kindness for…what? Interest for a cripple? Tenderness for a lonely angry man? His jaw clenched, rage surging through him, on that day the door of his office slammed so hard nobody dared to call for him, not even for dinner. When the next day you came to bring some papers and revise some new information, he was keeping a two meters distance all the time, if not more. Anything you said was welcomed with sounds the usual good morning disappeared.

“Laszlo” you called him after more than one hour spent welcomed by only silence and grunts “Did something happen? Maybe, I could help..”

“What exactly gives the impression I need your help?” He shot back before you could even mutter another sentence or even conclude the one you just begun.

His eyes raising from the papers he was holding, his hand moved to his glasses taking them off “As far as my knowledge goes, you’re here to support the investigation with documents and research, not to interfere with my personal life or a job like mine that requires not only tact but also a severe respect of the patient’s privacy”

You closed your mouth suddenly as he never reacted in such a way toward you. Usually he seemed to like to engage with you, to hear your thoughts and opinions, now his hard glare was dooming over you like the Judgment Day.

“I apologise” you resumed to say, maybe it was a bad day, those bad days John teased him about so many times, but that you never encountered before.

So you moved back to your spot respecting the distance he wanted, he put his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

Nothing more was said.

That evening when you were about to leave you thanked him and wished him a good night, as you always did. Silence again, only one hand to be lifted as he didn’t even turn to talk to you. His reaction gutted you and from that day on to visit him turned into the heaviest hours of the day. There was no room for chat, no room for accommodation. You even brought some sweets one day thinking he might like it and he handed those just as quickly to the kids. You even asked him if you wronged him and he said there was nothing wrong.

After two weeks like this, you sat behind your desk at the Town Hall resigned to live with his silence, you stared at a little note he wrote to you once to thank you of your help with some documents titles underneath.

I admire your dedication to the case. Your help is invaluable L.K.

You read, but that didn’t stand anymore, for some reason.

“What’s that long face for?”

Sara asked leaning against your desk as you slipped that piece of paper underneath your notebook. You already gave Laszlo all the documents requested, you could throw that away, but you didn’t.

“I think I upset Dr Kreizler”

Sara looked at you surprised by the way you resumed calling him by his title, like you were trying to gain distance from him. You looked at her incisive look as you quietly explained to her your fears and doubts, what was going on and how you probably should ask John a way to repair the situation, because you were clueless. After your conversation Sara didn’t think about it twice and after concluding her duties she stormed at Laszlo’s office only to find him engaged in the billionth argument with John.

“What have you told to Y/N?”

She asked, a proper mad mama bear as she stared at him mercilessly, she was aiming for the throat and John looked at him puzzled.

“What have you done Laszlo? Having a fine woman interested on you hits so differently?”

Laszlo was about to answer Sara when he suddenly felt attacked on too many fronts.

“Wait, I beg your pardon? I think you have got into some mistake, John”

John looked at him and then at Sara as she shook her head impatiently and already fed up with Laszlo’s ways.

“She does like you Laszlo, where is your problem about it?” She inquired more “Is she not a doctor enough for your likings? Do you want a duchess or something? Because I don’t understand, if you’re not interested to her at least be human”

By this moment Laszlo was still incredule and a chuckle almost left his lips

“I think you are mistaken Sara, Y/N is in a relationship with Marcus Isaacson, I stumbled upon them already”

“Marcus? I thought he was seeing that Esther girl, Lucius complained about his lack of focus more than once, how did you manage to erase her interest that quick Laszlo?” John said surprised and Sara had to hold onto her iron will not to slap the both of them in their faces.

“You two are worse than any little town blabbermouth” she snapped.

John frowned feeling accused and Laszlo was ready to give her a lecture that could last until the end of times when you walked inside in a rush.

“Excuse me” you said out of breath, mud stained your dress as you clearly run your way to her Institute handing them a file “This just came”.

You gulped down as Sara glared at Laszlo while she guided you to have a glass of water.Laszlo studied the document without even acknowledging your presence, another victim served on a plate.

That evening he went to see the body, the Isaacson’s giving a full display of the wounds and marks on the body to him and John. By the rules of the obituary, you and Sara weren’t welcomed inside as they were.  You sat silently, slowly tracing the stain on your skirt thinking how bad Laszlo’s impression of you must be now that you even showed yourself in such an improper manner, such a gentleman like him witnessing you in such a state. When they came out of the obituary Sara stood up as you remained sat, the warm presence of Laszlo now hunting you like a ghost every time he is around.

“The murderer knows we re close” Laszlo stated as he sighed, ashamed that another life was lost “I think that this victim in particular..”

“Y/N!”

Marcus interrupted him rushing out of the obituary with his bloody apron still on, his less than sanitary clean hand on your shoulder as Laszlo was ready to reduce the both of you to dust for interrupting him.

“Excuse me Doctor” Marcus head shot up to him before looking back down at you “Thank you for helping with the gifts, Esther adored them, we are going out again tonight” he said excitedly to you and a big smile, the first of the day, blossomed on your lips.

“I told you, you should trust me more often” you said and he nodded vehemently “If things go this good, I will come to ask you to help me with the ring” he said completely hyped up, bouncing curls everywhere, as you crossed your fingers for him and he repeated the gesture before disappearing again called by his brother who was fed up with his love talks already.

Sara crossed her arms as John’s stare went up to Laszlo’s face, the sudden realisation of his mistake hit him like a bag of bricks. A mix of shame and happiness filling him up. And now the doubt: did he ruined his chances forever? The next morning you came into his office, you never stopped wishing him good morning and being polite, no matter his attitude.

“Y/N” he called you as you were placing your belongings aside. Your surprised look due to his softened tone was unmissable to him.

“Come here, I wish to talk to you”

You grew nervous as he didn’t say much else, so you walked to him sitting on the couch beside him, the one where you shared so many talks not too long before, even if now it felt like an eternity.

“I want to apologise to you” he blurted out all together, no need to move around the topic even though that only affirmation run over you harder than any other phrase.

You didn’t reply, allowing him to proceed.

“I apologise, because I have been selfish and foolish” he said, the fingers of his left hand touching nervously the armchair “I have been mistreating you only because my pride was hurt, I have acted like a man without means and courage.”

You parted your lips but he interrupted you before you could even begin.

“Please, let me finish, I have felt from the beginning a prominent fondness toward you. Your character and your kindness make you a remarkable person, you have the talent of bringing out the best out of most people, me included. But I have misread your ways and pointed your natural disposition to a form of romantic interest directed on me and our common friend Marcus Isaacson”

He was still excluding the possibility of you being attracted to him.

“I thought there was something behind it and I acted like a child instead of asking you directly, and I am ashamed for that”

You stared at him, a little smile creeping onto your lips.

“I think you misread only half of the situation Laszlo, as always you’re too unkind on yourself” you said gathering all the courage you had “because my interest toward you was honest while my relationship with Marcus is nothing by friendly”

Now it was Laszlo’s turn to be silenced, a new realisation creeping into his bones, a hope becoming a possibility.

“And is that honest interest still alive after my despicable ways?”

Your smile grew pulled by the redness spreading on your cheeks.

“Maybe” he interrupted. He didn’t want to wait for your answer, your smile spoke for you “maybe we can further bring this conversation to Delmonico’s, tonight, just the two of us”

Your smile grew bigger, his eyes shining for you.

“It will be my pleasure” you answered only, not knowing a bouquet of carnations was already being delivered at your house to welcome you once you’ll be back.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved​ @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.  

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights. 

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

 “Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out. 

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something.  It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.  

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.” 

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines. 

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.  

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

 It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display.  There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain. 

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy  students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights. 

Different words…different priorities. 

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end. 

...

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks. 

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and  the larger shower blocks which housed  cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

NEXT  

[whereisten]

Heal

A Kun fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Doctor Qian Kun is a young and successful doctor who works miracles. And you are no exception when you become his patient.

Pairing: Doctor! Kun x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, fantasy, horror

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: blood, manipulation

(A/N: Thank you guys so much for your support with our Halloween fics! Hope you enjoy the adventures of y/n and Doctor Kun!)

___

You were no stranger to visits to the Neo Hospital in your hometown. When you were a baby, you basically lived at the hospital. You were prone to colds and fevers. You always experienced body aches and fatigue. You were born with a chronic autoimmune disorder that left many doctors baffled. They were only able to provide you with medications to alleviate your pains temporarily. You were confined to stay at home, to be homeschooled by your parents, and make friends online. Your childhood was far from normal.

You were a college junior now and you’ve been strictly online. If it wasn’t for the Internet, you probably would’ve lost your mind by now.

You had contact with the outside world but not physical contact. It’s what you longed for the most.

You resented your family. Your older and younger siblings could go out whenever they pleased. How did they get so lucky? Why were you the only sibling that got the short end of the stick?

Everyone in your family always interacted with you carefully, using hand sanitizer and always washing their hands prior to helping you with something. They treated you like a fine, porcelain doll that had to be preserved. It was irritating on your best days and unbearable on your worst. You felt like an abomination sometimes.

However, throughout the years, you would rebel. You would run away from home when your parents eyes wandered for a moment. The farthest you’d get before getting caught was the park. You were lucky that you didn’t develop any harsh symptoms from those times you ran away. However, you would be punished for taking such risks. You’d get your phone and internet privileges taken away for a month every time.

Last week, you succeeded in your most ambitious escape yet: you made it to Target to buy the new Ariana Grande CD. You thought that the one trip to Target couldn’t hurt you. By no means was it crowded and no one got into your space.

Well, you were wrong to think that you’d be fine.

Now you came down with a fever and you’d been placed on bed rest at your all-too familiar Room 1196 on the eleventh floor of the hospital.

You resented your body. A lot of people could recover from a fever and carry on with their day-to-day lives but you? Not so much.

Your parents made a whole spectacle of getting you to be seen by the best doctors but these doctors couldn’t help you the way you’d hoped.

However, this time, you awoke the next morning after your intake and felt...nothing.

Like you never had a fever in the first place.

You spent the morning checking your social media. Your crush/online classmate Sicheng was on a weekend hiking trip with his friends. He was with a bunch of beautiful, healthy people in North Carolina. You were even more bummed to be in the hospital now.

You wondered what life would be like if you didn’t have your condition. Where could you have gone? Who would you be now?

You’ve always wanted to go to the beach by yourself. To the supermarket. Hell, across the street. You wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere. Without anyone coddling you and watching your every move.

You wished for freedom from the body you were born with. To find a new one, somehow.

Because you had no hope for your current body to change.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” A male voice was heard from the door.

“Sure.” You sat upright on the bed.

The person at the door entered and he was the prettiest healthcare provider you’d ever laid your eyes on. He had warm, brown eyes and a radiant smile. His dark blue hair was wavy.

Suddenly, you regretted not brushing your hair that morning.

He donned a lab coat with the hospital’s name on it. His name tag was in a lanyard: Dr. Qian Kun, MD, DOM, PharmD.

He looked very young...And to have all of those titles? Your head was spinning.

He frowned as he saw how confused you looked. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “I am.”

He sat on the chair beside your bed. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Dr. Qian Kun but you can call me Kun.”

You blinked a few times. “Are you really a doctor?”

He laughed, confused. “What?”

“You don’t seem that much older than me…”

He sighed. “I get that a lot. I’m twenty-four. I graduated early from university...Earned my titles...Now here I am.”

“That’s amazing. You are probably the youngest doctor ever.”

Kun shook his head. “Afraid not. Bala Ambati became a doctor at seventeen.”

You shook your head. “Still...You have three doctorates. That means triple the sleep deprivation. Hats off to you.”

Kun chuckled as he looked at your information in his clipboard. “Your vitals have improved a lot since yesterday.”

You looked down at your hands. “Yeah...That’s impossible…”

Kun shook his head, noting how down you looked. “It is possible, y/n.”

You met his gaze. “How?”

He smiled. “Are you familiar with oriental medicine?”

He sure was charming, you thought. You reminded yourself to answer his question. “No, I’m not.”

Kun got up from his seat. “Well, there are many different practices that a doctor of oriental medicine can utilize, like acupuncture, meditation, and herbal therapy...To restore harmony to the human body. I specialize in herbal therapy.”

“I see…”

“I have created an herbal mixture that has worked efficiently to get my patients back up on their feet.”

Incredulous still, you managed to say, “That’s great, Doctor.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“I mean, Kun.”

Kun resumed, “And I‘ve provided you with the herbal mixture and from the looks of it, the results have quickly taken effect.”

You were speechless. “That’s…”

“I know it’s hard to believe, y/n. But sometimes doctors fail to find other alternatives to help their patients. Which is why I’m glad I’m your primary physician now.”

“Wait, what about Doctor Morris?” Doctor Morris had been your primary physician since you were five years old.

“She’s retired. I’ve been taking on a couple of her patients now.”

“I see…”

Kun looked out your room’s window and smiled to himself. “You don’t trust me.”

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t trust any medical professional. No one has been able to understand my condition yet so…”

Kun replied, “You’ve been let down too many times.”

“Exactly. Doctors just can’t figure me out.”

He turned to you and grinned. “Allow me to prove you wrong, then.”

___

At the recommendation of Doctor Kun, you were assigned to stay in the hospital for the next few weeks to see how the herbal mixture would affect your body if you took it for a longer period of time.

Every passing day, you felt more alive. It was weird to say this but you felt more alive at the hospital than you did before. You were beginning to suspect that Kun’s herbal mixture was actually working.

The herbal mixture was made of feverfew among other medicinal herbs. It had certainly done the trick to reduce your fever overnight. You wondered just what this mixture was made of.

You just finished your online linguistics lecture and closed your laptop. You found Kun waiting at the door. “You free?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He sat down next to you and pulled some of your favorite candy out of his pocket.

He put the candy bar in your hand. His fingers lightly touched your palm. Your face warmed up at his proximity. “Happy Halloween, y/n.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out. How did he know you loved Twix? You took the candy bar into your hand and almost cried.

“Y/n?” He asked, worried.

You wiped a tear away. “Sorry...It’s just that this time of the year is hard because...I want to celebrate it. Go out and trick or treat...I know that time has gone for me but I hate that I missed out, you know…”

“Y/n…”

You sniffled and took a bite of the chocolate bar. “My parents never wanted me to feel like I was missing out so they would bring the holiday home to me. I was never in need of M&Ms, Skittles, Twix, or Sour Patch Kids…They even helped me make the best Halloween costumes. We would watch a bunch of horror movies all month long...But I wanted to be a kid. I wanted to go out with my friends and go door to door…”

Kun’s heart went out to you. He hated seeing you so down and so deprived of a life that everyone should have. “Y/n, you will be able to do all of the things you want to do in life.”

You looked at Kun and he had a determined look on his face. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve worked with people with conditions like yours...They thought they would be attached to the hospital forever one way or another. But with my methods, I was able to help them turn their life around. And now they’re living normally and fully.”

You sighed. “I’m happy to hear that...I just don’t think I’ll be one of them.”

Kun placed his hand over yours. “Trust me, y/n. I won’t let you down.”

You met his eyes, then, and you smiled. “Thanks, Kun. I’ve gotta hand it to you. You’re my favorite doctor.”

He beamed. “Is that so?”

You nodded. “Yeah...None of the other doctors ever gave me so much as a lollipop Even though that seems to be the norm on TV…”

Kun chuckled. “There’s more where that came from, y/n.”

___

It has been a month since you’ve entered the hospital. The medical bills were covered by an anonymous benefactor. Your family didn’t have to worry about the financial strain of your hospital stay.

Your family came to visit you and they were stunned at how radiant you looked. They were surprised at how much more ALIVE you looked when they expected you to be weak and miserable because you were at the hospital. Something about you was different.

“Doctor Kun is a miracle worker, isn’t he?” Your dad asked.

“I heard he’s a sight for sore eyes, too...Don’t you think so, y/n?” Your older sister Sydney teased.

You mom shook her head and helped fluff your pillows. “How are you, sweetheart?”

You smiled. “I’m better, actually. I think Kun’s methods are working.”

“Oh, are you two on a first name basis?” Your sister joked.

You rolled your eyes. “He told me to call him Kun. If you saw him, you’d feel weird calling him Doctor, actually.”

“He’s quite young, y/n. He graduated from a top university in Beijing at age 10. Then, he went to medical school right after. He’s been a practicing doctor for a couple of years now. He’s unbelievable,” you dad said.

Kun entered the room, then. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Doctor Qian Kun. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your mom was in love with him. Your dad was in shock at how young he was. Your sister wanted his number. You broke their stunned silence. “Kun, these are my parents Donna and Andrew. And this is my sister, Sydney.”

Kun greeted them. “I’m glad you are all here so I can tell you the good news.”

Everyone was shocked at the phrase “good news”. What good news could he possibly have to share?

Kun continued, “Y/n, your vitals are working at optimum level and we want to see how well you can fare by discharging you.”

You asked, “What?”

Kun smiled. “You can start having a normal life...In which you can attend in-person classes, go to the supermarket, take up a sport…”

You weren’t sure about the last thing he offered but everything else he suggested made you jump out of your bed. “Serious?”

Kun’s smile grew. “Yes.”

Your parents gave each other looks.

Your dad started. “Doctor, are you sure about this...y/n has lived all of her life in our home. The only outside world she’s ever known is our backyard and this hospital.”

Kun nodded. “I am sure. I’ve worked with several patients with similar cases as y/n’s and I would like to put the effect of the herbal mixture to the test. If there is any risk, she will immediately be brought back to the hospital and I will up the dosage for the herbs.”

After a few more minutes of discussion, your parents reluctantly agreed to take you home. To alleviate their concerns, you promised to consult with Kun once a week so he could monitor your progress.

You would be going home tomorrow and you had been given the green light to live a normal life. Outside. Go to classes. See your friends. Go to the beach. Buy fruits at the grocery store.

You packed up your belongings and Kun visited you one last time before you left. “Hey.”

You smiled brightly at him. “Hi!”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than I ever have, honestly. And I have you to thank for that. Look, I’m not sure if this will work out in the end but the fact that I can take the chance and go out there...Thank you.”

Kun ruffled your hair. “I’m here for you, y/n.”

You did admit to yourself that you’d had a little crush on Dr. Kun but who were you kidding? He was so out of your league. You’d had a friend in him and you would always be thankful to him. “I have something for you.”

Kun’s eyes widened. “For me?”

“I wasn’t sure it’d get to my house in time but my mom got the package today. I told her to bring it today when everyone visited so…”

You pulled out a small gift bag with Kun’s present inside.

Kun smiled. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” “You’ve done a lot for me, Kun. I may have my doubts but I don’t doubt your intentions. And they're nothing but good. You’ve been doing so much for me. You’re setting me free...In a way.”

You handed the bag to Kun. He pulled out a little wrapped box from inside. He looked at you as he mocked suspicion.

He removed the wrapping to find a pair of AirPods. He gaped. “Y/n…”

You smiled. “For whenever you need to escape the noise…”

Kun had told you that sometimes he would get overwhelmed with his duties at the hospital and you’d asked him what gave him comfort. He told you it was music. So you figured something as light and portable as AirPods could help Kun calm down whenever he needed it throughout the day.

He smiled brightly at you and surprised you by wrapping his arms around you. “Y/n, thank you...You shouldn’t have…”

You froze. Kun’s toned body was against yours and you could feel the racing of his heart. Your heart probably beat twice as fast. You felt yourself get warmer and warmer. You pulled away from him, his hands on your arms.

He blushed. “Sorry…”

You cleared your throat. “Don’t worry about it…”

Your dad returned to the hospital room. “Y/n, you ready?”

Perfect timing, dad, you thought.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

___

It may have been the second semester of your junior year but you felt as nervous as an incoming college freshman as you entered Neo University’s grounds for the first time. You were meeting some of your friends for the first time ever.

It was one thing to see them on the screen but your heart accelerated thinking of what it would be like to see them in the flesh.

You’ve been doing well so far with the herbs Kun had sent you home with. You were able to go grocery shopping with your mom. She was still considering whether or not you could go to the beach yet. You hoped that your progress would continue so she would say yes.

You felt healthier than ever. You could breathe well through your nose. You felt no body aches. You were ready to cartwheel across the quadrangle.

First, you had to learn how to cartwheel, though.

“Y/n!!!!!” Jungeun called out to you.

Your blonde best friend ran up to you and jumped you from behind. “Ah!”

“Jungeun!” You gasped.

She laughed. “You said I could touch you so I wasn’t about to hold back.”

You hugged each other tightly.

“Y/n, it’s so good to see you!”

You and Jungeun have been friends since middle school so you were already a sobbing mess on your first day.

“Stop crying, y/n or else I’m gonna…” She started crying, too.

“Enough with the tears, already,” Dejun added.

You and Jungeun hugged Dejun to bother him, then.

He laughed. “Y/n, welcome to Neo U.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling.

You three went to your seminar together and you were just so in awe of being in a classroom, you had trouble focusing on the lecture. You were even more distracted when you saw that Sicheng was in the same class.

He recognized you and waved. You were yelling so loudly on the inside.

Before this semester, you had the occasional online class that you shared. You saw Sicheng for the first time a year ago and your crush on him grew from there. He was one of the most popular guys on campus, according to Jungeun. You had a group project with him last semester and he was so...Perfect.

He was intelligent and down-to-earth. His smile was so sweet and his eyes pierced into your soul. He was talking poetry. It felt like you were seeing your favorite celebrity in person.

When class ended, you went to lunch with your friends and Sicheng joined you.

“How are you, y/n?” He asked.

“I’m great. Never been better,” you replied.

He smiled. “I’m glad. If you ever need anything, please let me know. You have my number.”

You nodded. “Of course. Same here. If you ever need anything. I’m here for you, too.”

Sicheng chuckled. “Great.”

When you finished lunch, Jungeun couldn’t stop poking fun at you. Sicheng left early for a club meeting. “I’m surprised he didn’t ask you out, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask who out?”

Dejun added. “Me, of course.”

Jungeun continued. “The ‘you have my number’ couldn’t have been more obvious. He wants you in his dorm yesterday.”

You frowned. “And what would we do? Fix his bed?”

Jungeun and Dejun laughed. Jungeun added, “The opposite, y/n.”

Your face heated up then. “Oh.”

Since you have basically spent most of your life either at home or at the hospital, you never even considered the possibility of a love life. You tried to convince yourself that dating sims would’ve been enough.

“Don’t worry, y/n...You and Sicheng can take it slow...He’s no incubus who is trying to take your soul,” Dejun offered.

“True,” you said.

That was if Sicheng saw you that way in the first place.

___

A few weeks had passed. You’d been seeing Kun regularly to check in and everything had gone as expected. You were fine. You weren’t exhibiting any flare-ups. So long as you kept taking the prescribed herbs, you would be fine.

“How is everything, y/n?” He asked.

“Pretty good, actually. School is still school, even if it’s in person. But I got to go to a skating rink for the first time.”

He laughed. “How was it?”

“I am terrible.” You showed your legs. “It explains these bruises.”

Kun shook his head and chuckled. “I’m glad you’re getting out more, y/n. Try and take it one step at a time.”

“Oh, geez. I wish you said that sooner. I already joined a blood cult and I’m getting married next week.”

Kun rolled his eyes as he finished taking notes from your consultation.

“How is everything with you, doc?”

Kun’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Surely, you’re not always at the hospital.”

Kun sighed. “Well, y/n...it just so happens that I’ve taken residence up on the top floor. The whole floor is my apartment. Don’t really get to spend much time there because I’m almost always on call.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? Kun, that’s abuse. You shouldn’t be working so many hours. It’s against the-“

Kun couldn’t help his smile appearing.

“You sneaky bastard,” you said.

You both laughed, then.

Sometimes you forgot Kun was a successful doctor. Sometimes he felt like your infinitely smarter senior at college.

He was a million worlds away from yours.

Kun answered, “Well, I’m doing fine, y/n. I meet up with friends once in a while and go white-water rafting.”

“That sounds like fun!”

Kun shook his head. “It’s challenging but exciting. I get a rush every time I go.”

You thought out loud. “I’d love to try it sometime…”

Kun pat you in the back. “When you are at one hundred perfect, I’ll give you the green light. Sounds good?”

You nod.

___

You’d wrapped up your midterm and you were ready to head home and take a nap. You walked through the student quad.

“Y/n!” Sicheng called out to you.

You turned around and found Sicheng running towards you.

You smiled, already warm in the face. “Hi.”

“I was wondering if you were free right now…”

“Really? Me?”

He smiled, confused at your question. “Yeah, you. Want to go to the movies with me?”

You nodded. “Absolutely.”

Sicheng drove you guys to the movies. He bought the tickets and the snacks. He let you pick the movie. You picked The Blair Witch Project. It came out over twenty years ago but the theater was doing a limited time screening of it.

You and Sicheng couldn’t shut up throughout the whole movie as you whispered to each and made each other laugh. You’d almost gotten kicked out of the theater.

You left the theater together and he asked you to dinner. You said yes. You were starting to think that this was a date.

“Y/n, this is a date, right?” He asked you at dinner.

You stopped eating your chicken parmigiana and looked at him with big eyes. “I think...Is it?”

Sicheng sighed. “I wanted it to be…”

You laughed. “Oh, thank God. I thought it was all in my head for a second. Maybe you were this nice to all of your friends.”

He pointed out, “I am not this nice to my friends, I can promise you that.”

Sicheng drove you home and kissed you goodnight before you entered your house. You felt like you were floating on a cloud now.

___

Two days later, there was a campus alert that Sicheng had gone missing. His face was all over the news. The last time he was heard from was when he told his best friend Jaehyun that he was going to ask you out to the movies. The last time he was seen was when he took you home.

Sicheng’s car was found a mile away from the dorms. The key was still in the ignition and his wallet and phone were left behind.

You were brought into the police station for questioning and you told them everything that happened the night Sicheng disappeared.

You were worried. What could have happened to him? Would he be alright? Would he be able to come back home? You missed him so much.

You took an evening stroll around your neighborhood to try and calm down. You reached the park where there was no other soul in sight.

Suddenly, you felt a tingly sensation in the back of your neck. You felt that someone was following you.  

You began to walk faster. Suddenly, you were pinned to the ground and everything turned black.

___

You woke up in Room 1196, then. Wait...It wasn’t 1196...It was a different room in Neo Hospital. The room was dark and you could only hear the sound of your breathing. It grew more hysterical with each second.

You felt a burning sensation in your neck. You cried out in pain. You cried out, “Help me, please.”

“Y/n…” You recognized Kun’s voice.

You nearly yelled out in pain but restrained yourself. “What...happened?”

“An animal attack,” he started.

You frowned. “What?”

Kun sighed. “It was good that I was there to help you in time, y/n…”

“What?”

Kun moved your hair out of your face. “I was in the neighborhood when I saw the beast attack your neck.”

“A beast?” You frowned.

“Sicheng, was it?”

Your eyes widened. “How do you-“

“You can’t hide anything from me, y/n...You know that’s not how our relationship works.”

“What are you talking about? Ahhhhh.” The pain was getting to be too much for you.

“Can you put two and two together, y/n? Sicheng bit you.”

You shook your head furiously. “No, he wouldn’t-“

Kun snapped his fingers and Sicheng entered the hospital room. His bright expression nowhere to be found. His eyes were a bright red and his lips had traces of blood on them.

“Sicheng?!” You asked.

Sicheng smiled, showing fangs in his teeth. “Hi, y/n…”

“Oh, my God!” You started.

Kun grew annoyed. “Alright, that’s enough pleasantries for my taste. Go.”

Sicheng walked away at his command.

You began, “What the-“

Kun smiled brightly at you then. This time, his straight white teeth displayed his own fangs. “Y/n...Sicheng has put you in a bit of a bind, hasn’t he?”

You tried backing away from Kun and getting off of the bed but it was almost as if the pain kept you from moving.

Kun ran the back of his hand down your cheek. “When a newborn vampire bites you, the bite is lethal...You could die anywhere between minutes and hours...It depends on the bitten, really…”

You flinched at his touch. “What...did you do to me?”

Kun inched closer to you and you winced. He lathered up the blood that leaked from your neck down to your collarbone.

“What had to be done, y/n. From the moment I first saw you, I knew that I had to have you.”

You cried out in pain. “Somebody help me, please! Sicheng, please!”

Kun, annoyed over you mentioning Sicheng, shut the door to the hospital room. “It’s useless, y/n. Sicheng wouldn’t be in this mess if he hadn’t infiltrated what is mine. Now Sicheng must endure the consequences and be at my mercy. I turned him so now he looks to me for instructions. Until I release him...Perhaps in the next millennium...”

You sobbed. “Kun, please make this pain stop! I can’t take it!”

He cooed. “I know, baby. I want to help you. Just say the word and I’ll make the pain go away.”

The pain dominated your senses so you couldn’t process how exactly he would make it go away. “Okay! Just do it!”

Kun got up onto the bed and straddled you. He leaned down towards your neck and bit into you.

You cried out again but this time the excruciating pain turned into a euphoria so glorious, you never wanted it to end. You wrapped your arms around Kun as he continued to drink your blood.

___

It was morning when you had woken up. You were in Room 1196 now. You shot up from your bed and found Kun seated right beside you.

“Good morning, darling,” he started.

You glared at him. “Bite me. Oh, wait, you already did.”

He smiled. “I see your energy is up. That’s good to see.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going home…”

Suddenly, you stopped right at the door and your throat started to burn. Your senses heightened and you could sense that one of the nurses was walking right past your room’s door. You wondered what she would taste like if you caught her by surprise right then and there and…

What the holy hell were you thinking?

Kun sighed. “Don’t kill Joyce. She’s the most competent nurse on the staff.”

You ran into your bathroom door and looked at yourself in the mirror.

But you couldn’t.

You put a hand over your mouth and sobbed. “Kun!!!!!”

Kun joined you in the bathroom. “Ah, yes. You won’t be able to gain access to your reflection for another twenty years.”

“Twenty years...What is going on?”

“But what else, y/n? I turned you. To save your life.”

“Turned me into what, Kun?! Say it!”

Kun smiled. “Darling, you already know. Just admit it to yourself.”

You cried. “No…”

“You’ve always wanted a new body. A new life, y/n. And I’ve given it to you. I’ve made you the most powerful creature on this damned planet: a vampire.”

You fell to the ground. You could feel your fangs against your tongue.“Kun! Why did you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?”

Kun sat with you on the ground. “Because I love you, y/n. I never want to be apart from you again.”

You spat in his face. “You made me into a monster.”

Kun, unbothered, wiped your spit away with the sleeve of his coat. “I did not. I made you the best version of yourself you can be. Time for you has become infinite. Your body is immune to all illnesses now. You can see clearly. Your metabolism is in top shape. You are a goddess now.”

You shook your head. “Kun, take it back.”

He chuckled. “You’ve seen enough movies to know that that’s not how it works, y/n...You are mine now. Forever. Just like Sicheng. Just like a lot of the staff in this hospital.”

You shook your head rapidly. “Like hell I’m yours.”

“Y/n, I have been very generous up until this point. Using my blood to help you overcome your chronic condition. Funding your hospital bills...The least you can do is submit to me....”

It was hard to process all of the truths he just delivered. “Your blood?”

He laughed. “You mean you couldn’t taste my blood in the herbal mixture?”

You were about to throw up.

He chuckled darkly. “Admit it, y/n. You loved it.”

“Fuck you, Kun!”

He smiled. “We’ll get to that…”

You sneered. “You are despicable.”

His smile faded. “And you are testing my patience…”  He snapped his fingers at you. “On your knees…”

You stayed on the floor with your arms crossed across your chest.

He frowned as he snapped again. “On your knees, y/n.”

“I don’t think so,” you said.

Kun looked taken aback. “What? How?”

You got up from the ground and looked at him. “I will never submit to you for as long as I live..” If vampires were even considered living.

You ran quickly out of the hospital room, realizing you had superhuman speed now. You were able to leave the historial without facing any temptation to bite someone.

But your thirst had to be satisfied somehow and you had to find a way to quench it without hurting anyone.

___

[2 years later]

You’d skipped town not long after you turned. You sent letters to your family without a return address so as not to risk their safety.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m so sorry I ran away. I had no choice. If I didn’t leave, you all would’ve been in danger. One day, I hope to explain it all to you but in the meantime, live your lives fully and love each other. Don’t take anything for granted. I love you so much and will see you again.

Love,

y/n

You had become an infamous blood bag bandit as you moved across the country, running away from Kun. He would occasionally try and track you. Or he would send his henchman like Sicheng to do it for him.

You were lucky so far. You had never attacked a human being and sustained yourself on some blood bags you were able to nab from donating trucks.

The reason why you didn’t submit yourself to Kun that day was indeed because of his blood. Consumption of his blood made you immune to his influence. He couldn’t have you like he had wanted all along.

Kun had been obsessed with you from the very beginning. When you were discharged from the hospital the time you met him, he continuously stalked you. At college, at the grocery store, at your home...It would explain why he was able to send Sicheng to attack you.

He always knew where you were back then.

Kun commanded Sicheng to bite you then and put you at risk of dying. Kun’s plan was to save you, make you his vampire queen, and control you.

It was a shame he failed to see that his creation of medicinal herbs was the one thing that would lead to his plan’s failure.

You were immune to his commands and you weren’t going to stick around and see how else he would try and “win you over”.

According to your research, in all public records, Kun was now twenty-six. A blatant lie since he couldn’t age. So you wondered how long he would remain in your hometown. You kept a careful eye on your family every now and then. You’ve made some contacts to track your family occasionally, as well.

Kun had stooped low and you prayed he wouldn’t stoop even lower to get you.

You worked hard every day to work on your rapidly growing vampiric abilities. You couldn’t stick around anywhere for too long without arousing suspicion.

Now you weren’t confined to one space anymore.

You were confined to running.

You hoped to one day bring it this madness to an end and take Kun down. Save Sicheng and Kun’s other minions.

And for you to truly be free.

[Fin]

[bansheeoftheforest]

Moreau's Revenge but it directly leads to a permanently feral Jekyll. They find him in a cage in Moreau's lab, pacing back and forth on all fours like a tiger. He pulls his lips up and snarls at them and there is no recognition in his eyes, just fear and hatred. Anyone who was there the day of the rescue saw Moreau being led out in cuffs, and the good Dr. Jekyll carried out with restraints and a muzzle, snarling and shrieking and trying to fight against his rescuers.

The Society is deemed the safest place to keep him (Robert almost jumped over a desk to attack the first person who suggested Bethlam as an option), so the Lodgers now have to deal with the world's most skittish and aggressive human wild cat and the pain of having Henry right there byt so far away.

Maybe Robert would be his primary doctor? He doesn't trust anyone else not to hurt Henry further, so he takes over the role of therapy and trying to help his friend regain his sense. It's slow-going, but Henry finally let him touch him withiut growling, so that's something. The first time he headbutted Robert for attention he started crying.

Ooh, what if Moreau also tried to use him to experiment figuring out Frankenstein's method? Henry is covered in scars from being experimented on and sewn back up, he kind of matches Creature now.

On a more bittersweet positive note, maybe he really likes Jasper and Creature? Maybe he bonded with Moreau's unfortunate animal specimens and now associates the smell of animals with safety, so he spends alot of time in Jasper's room. He also associates dead-but-living with safety and follows Creature around like a stray kitten, climbing on him when he gets comfortable enough and knows he won't hurt him.

The Lodgers become fiercely protective of Henry, if any rich fuck or nosy reporter tries to see Henry to see if the rumours are true, they will be physically thrown from the Society by a bunch of angry scientists. Jekyll being loved and protected as he is slowly recovering from his trauma my beloved.

TRAUMA AND AU CROSSOVERS MY BELOVED <3

Man... I just love that thought, especially if people that Jekyll knows (Like Brokenshire, the Commissioner, + Wipple n Jenkins) are there during the rescue or even led it. They find Henry and they are all so relieved but to their horror, Henry is snarling at them, he is throwing himself against the bars of his cage trying to claw them, his eyes and pupils are so much bigger than should be humanely possible, he doesn't seem to be able to even stand on two legs. His hair is shaggy and sweaty and probably has dried blood in it, it just makes him look more and more mad when it falls over his face as they force on a muzzle and restrain him. It pains them all so much because this is their friend and he has been withstanding god knows what and know he doesn't even know that he is human. They have to knock him out with sleeping meds to even manage to get him into a police carriage so they can get him out of the lab, maybe Moreau would see it and laugh and tell them that they'll never get their Henry Jekyll bad, the fucker is gone for ever now, now he has to suffer in Bethlam like him.

(Which, of course, only makes the four of them want to help Henry and make sure he can recover even more)

Robert would feel like he is trying to tame a scared stray cat, at first he can't even let Henry out of the cage/restraints without him trying to escape and or hurt him or others, so he starts by giving him food (Rachel's chicken seems to be a favorite, it seems) and reaching into the cage with a thick glove so he can touch him. Any wrong move and Henry becomes skittish and aggressive and tries to bite him, and it just pains Robert so much to see his best friend like this. But slowly and surely Henry warms up, soon he allows Robert to pet him without trying to hurt him, soon he actually relaxes when Robert is in the same room as him, soon Robert can sit with him in the cage and Henry will put his head on his lap. All those small steps brings Robert to tears and yet it's not until Henry happily thrills when Robert enters the room, or tries to headbutt him, or even tries to groom him that Robert actually cries. Henry warms up to Robert so much that he can have an entire room for himself, soon he slowly warms up to the Lodgers too... <3

Aw man... Imagine Brokenshire and the Commissioner (Man, I really mention him a lot, huh? We literally have him mentioned to be Henry's friend once but ahaha i almost want to OC-fy him at this point) visiting Henry from time to time bc they are worried for their friend and they are almost the only ones outside of the Society that knows what's going on. At first Henry is skeptical but, despite the feral part of him associating them with pain bc they restrained him and he hasn't seen them since, something in him recognizes them, and maybe that would be the first time they would get proof that Henry actually is saveable <3

Oohoohohohoh Henry with scars... Imagine the first time Henry would actually become aware (maybe it would be reverse Feral AU where he gets aware for short periods of time in the beginning?) and seeing his face and body and all the scars... Angst <3

Jasper and Creature having a soft spot for Henry my beloved, Henry immediately feeling safe with them my double beloved <3<3<3<3 Henry being allowed to roam the Society for the first time and yet clinging to Jasper immediately. Jasper, obviously, smells like a werewolf and like other animals and it makes Henry feel safe so he clings to him for a lot of the time, Jasper's creatures accept him as one of their own immediately. Henry being so intrigued by Creature and yet needing a little bit to warm up to him, mostly because he is so big and easily could hurt him, but Creature is patient and has so much sympathy and sorrow for him and soon Henry is just... Laying on his shoulders like some sort of human scarf while snoozing and shfjshjsdfhsd ;-;

Man... Henry starting to feel so safe and loved by the Lodgers and they all protect him and take care of him, they want to see him happy and recovering, even Frankenstein would be protective off him bc she knows what kind of a madman Moreau is and no one should have had to live through what Henry had to, Henry slowly but surely healing and becoming unferal and the Lodgers cheering him on and not thinking any less of him skfsjdfhsjdfJHjjsdfhjJAHJASd

[obsidiancreates]

Freezer Duty (Part Two)

"Okay, okay!" Cheyenne shouts. Everyone is gathered in the warehouse, shouting and holding money. "Guys, settle down! This is simple, okay? If you think Jonah is a vampire put your money in this stupid fedora-"

She holds up said Fedora, a hat that Jonah has tried many times to wear and has been relentlessly mocked for each and every time.

"-and if you think he isn't a vampire, put your money in this crazy big mug!" She holds up a novelty mug that says 'My hair is as slick as my moves'.

Bets are placed, and the games truly begin.

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

Jonah looks at the customer and nods as they drone on about... something. He's trying very hard to focus on what, but it's just impossible. His lunch was completely unsatisfying, and he's still tired as hell.

"-so then the bagel caught fire-"

He just feels groggy and sick. And he's freezing! He even put his jacket on under his vest, and he's still cold! If only he had one of those cardigans from college with him...

"-and anyway, I just hope this won't turn out the same way."

Jonah nods along for a minute more before registering that the "conversation" is finally over. "Okay, well, good luck with that, ma'am," he says with a tired smile.

"Thank you, um... Joe-neh.”

“It-it’s Jonah, actually- and she walked away. Okay.” Jonah sighs and yawns, stretching his arms. He accidentally swings then out too wide, and knocks something over right onto the ground.

He jumps at the sheer volume of the impact! “WHAT IN THE-”

A barbell in a box smashes against the ground, denting the floor.

“How did- who- where-” Jonah looks around, trying to spot someone who would misplace a barbell into grocery!

He kneels down to take a look. It’s cracked the floor significantly.

He looks at his hand. It’s not even red where he accidentally punched the absurdly heavy weight. He struggles with grocery bags more often than not, and yet this- whatever this even is- happened?!

“Gotta be at an angle,” he mutters to himself. He puts his hands on the shelf, rubbing it, crouching down and examining it closely. “Just slid off at the lightest touch, clearly.”

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“Wow.” Mateo looks at Brett. “How did you even get that over there? It must weigh like, a million pounds.”

Brett gives no reply. Nor any indication that he heard Mateo at all. 

“Fine then,” Mateo says, offended. “Well, that’s a point for the ‘vampire’ better for sure.”

“Totally.” Cheyenne is already marking it down in her notebook.

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Dina watches Jonah on the security cams. “Let’s see how you like this one.” She pulls out her walkie-talkie. “Do it now, Garrett.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right?”

“Just do it!”

At the customer service desk, Garrett sighs and pulls out his phone. He taps an audio file, and holds it up to his mic.

Dina watches Jonah like a hawk.

First his head lifts up, clearly confused, and then after a moment he claps his hands over his ears. Over the camera she hears him shout, “What the hell is that?!”

Customer turn and looks at him with bewilderment, and looks around. 

Jonah looks around too, somewhat distressed.

“Ha!” Dina stands up a little and points at her monitor. “Superhuman hearing!”

“Hey, Dina?” Garrett says over the walkie. “What is this supposed to be doing, exactly?”

“That’s a frequency human ears can’t hear, but Jonah just did,” she says happily.

“Are you serious?”

“Always. He’s freaking out in the middle of grocery,” she says with a laugh.

“Okay, turning this off now.”

“No! I want to see how long he can handle it first, for future reference.”

“Yeah, well, I bet against him being a vampire so this doesn’t benefit me at all.”

Garrett lowers the phone and turns it off. Dina watches Jonah drops his hands from his ears with a small gasp of relief. She plops back into her chair with a disgruntled sigh.

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“Hey, Sandra? Um, so, we got a complaint,” Glenn says, trying to get Sandra’s attention, “Someone said that a bunch of bats flew out of the hole in the ceiling and started trying to rip their hair out? Anyway, uh, we can’t call animal control without corporate approval, so I need someone to handle that...”

Glenn waits for a moment, and then clears his throat. Sandra is still focused on something else. He clears it again, more insistently. Still nothing.

“SANDRA!”

The shrill shout make Sandra jump. Glenn smiles pleasantly when she turns around. “I need your help with something- ... wait a minute...”

Sandra is holding a spray bottle, garlic powder, and real garlic. “Um, I’m... restocking,” she clearly fibs. Glenn raises an eyebrow.

Sandra deflates. “We’re playing a game,” she admits. “To see if Jonah’s a vampire or not. Since garlic might kill him Dina and Marcus are making me wear garlic perfume, which is just garlic in water, to see if it makes his nose bleed or anything.”

“What?”

“I know we shouldn’t be playing a game at work-”

“Who cares?! Jonah might be a vampire?”

“Um... yes?”

Glenn shouts fearfully. “But-but vampires are damned! Jonah’s soul might be damned?!”

“... Yes?”

Glenn quickly runs away. Sandra waits, shrugs, and goes back to spraying garlic-y water on her neck.

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

“Jerusha? We’re gonna start up a new savings account! ... Well, Jonah might be a vampire, so I think we’ll need to pay a heavy fee to get him into Heaven! ... Of course we have to do it! He probably can’t even think of Heaven now! OH! I prayed for him this morning, what if that hurt him?! Oh, god... I need to call Pastor Craig about this! Oh- hmm? Oh, yeah, I can bring home Italian, what do you want?”

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

Jonah leans away from Sandra. “Yeah, uh, it’s-it’s certainly... pungent.”

“A good signature scent?” Sandra asks meekly.

“It... leaves a strong impression,” Jonah assures. And a strong headache...

“You don’t think it’s too strong?”

“Well, um... now you mention it, it... might, be a little... much. Uh... garlic-ish. Kind of.”

“Oh. Do you not like garlic?”

“I love it! I love garlic, just... not as a perfume.”

“You’re not allergic?”

“I just said I love it, so... no.”

“Okay. Um, thanks.”

Sandra walks away, leaving Jonah thoroughly confused.

“What was that about?” Amy asks, walking up.

“I think Sandra got garlic on herself and is trying to convince everyone it was on purpose,” Jonah says, slightly distracted sounding. He looks at Amy. “That or she genuinely wants to smell like garlic all the time.”

“Huh. ... I bet it was Carol.”

“Oh, that’s a good guess!” Jonah exclaims with a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that one?”

“Mmm, you’re off your game today. Anyway, I asked Glenn and we think insurance will cover a basic checkup if you think you need one.”

"Good, good, because I had another thing happen.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I started hearing this like um, this-this ringing sound, kind of? But I don’t think anyone else heard it. ... Everyone sort of looked at me like I was that guy from last Halloween...”

“Oh, yikes.”

“... Anyway, I’ll call at the end of the day.”

“You’re sure you don’t need to go home?”

“Well I’d like to but our insurance is so bad our boss thought I might die, so.”

“Right.”

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“Alright, Garrett-”

“Whoa, where the hell did you come from?!”

“The cafe. Here.” Dina tosses a pack of toothpicks to Garrett. “Hold one of these up around Jonah’s heart and see if he panics.”

Garrett looks at her skeptically.

“It’s the closest thing we have to a wooden stake! I mean, I could carve one, but we’d lose a chair or two.”

“Yeah, Dina,” Garrett pushes the toothpicks back over to her. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why? Scared you’ll kill him by accident? You can’t trip, it’ll be fine.”

“No, because this is stupid. And because if he is a vampire, I don’t want him to think I tried to murder him!”

Dina considers this. “... Alright, fair game. I’ll find someone else to do this.”

“Wait, really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Any idiot could hold a toothpick to someone else’s heart.”

Dina walks away, huffing, as Garrett is left with an odd feeling of dejection.

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Jonah pauses as he walks past patio. He doubles back, and spots Marcus using one of the grills.

Marcus looks up and grins. “Hey! Feeling peckish?”

“Um, are you allowed to be- isn’t that kind of dangerous, actually?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I uh, get special treatment after cutting off my thumb,” Marcus brags.

“Oh... kay. Um...” Jonah looks at the steaks, mouth watering. “I guess... I could use a snack.”

“Great! How rare do you want it?”

“... Do you mean how well-done? Just- usually people don’t start with the assumption of rare...”

“Well, a lot of my friends like their steaks bloody.” Marcus laughs, and then looks at Jonah very seriously.

“Oh, um, that-that’s... cool.” Jonah looks at the steaks sitting on the plate, in a pool of red, metallic-smelling, warmed blood...

He wipes his mouth. “Um, medium rare,” he says quickly. “And I’m just- I’m going to head over to the um, I think I saw a spill! In isle, uh... yeah.”

Jonah quickly walks away, and Marcus pulls out his phone to text Cheyenne. 

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“Hey, Glenn, I was thinking and I think we should send Jonah to- whoa.” Amy stops in her tracks, standing in Glenn’s doorway completely still as her boss tries to quickly hide the fact that he’d been crying.

“Um, go on, Amy.”

“Glenn, are you okay?” Amy closes the door and sits down.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Glenn waves off. “Just worried about Jonah, you know?”

Amy sighs. “Yeah, I am too. He said he heard a ringing in his ears, so I think maybe we should send him to the doctor and just use the jar method-”

“NO!”

Amy startles at Glenn’s shout. “Why?”

“Because he’s a vampire now, and-and who knows what the scientists will do to him!”

Amy closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to process that. “I’m sorry, he- what? Why do you think that?”

“Everyone does!” Glenn swings his arm out for emphasis. 

“... So... there’s no evidence, just people spreading rumors?”

“He had the two holes in his neck!”

“Okay, but, vampires aren’t real. You know that, right?”

Glenn shakes his head. “The Devil can do terrible things to good people! And-and one of those things, is turning best friends into vampires!”

Brushing past the fact that Glenn believes Jonah to be one of his best friends, Amy stands up. “Okay, Glenn, how about we go out there and look at Jonah.”

“... I’m scared to.”

“Just come on.”

Amy drags Glenn out of the office and runs into Justine. “Hey, Justine, where’s Jonah?”

“Oh, I think he’s at the grills-”

“Kay, thanks!”

She takes Glenn to Jonah despite Glenn’s protests. “See? Jonah is perfectly norm-”

She stops, and Glenn shrieks.

“Not what it looks like!” Marcus assures, fumbling with a napkin to wipe the blood off of Jonah’s chin.

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

*minutes earlier*

“Why do I need to be blindfolded for this?” Jonah asks nervously, fidgeting with his hands in his lap as Marcus covers his eyes.

“I want you to guess which one is cooked right without seeing it.”

“Wh-why, though?”

“Because... it’s a game!”

It’s to see how sensitive Jonah is to blood.

Marcus cuts a slice of steak, and holds it up. Jonah hesitantly opens his mouth, and Marcus shoves the steak piece in. Jonah coughs. “Very aggressive.”

Marcus shrugs, and waits.

“... Medium well?”

“Yes! Noice! My friend knows his steaks. Okay, here’s another one.”

Jonah chokes a little. “You really don’t have to shove it, in, um, you almost stabbed me.”

“Just tell me the steak...”

Jonah chews. “... Medium rare?”

“You are on fire! Okay, one more.”

Marcus shoves the fork into Jonah’s mouth. Jonah hisses in pain, biting down on the very rare piece of steak. Blood dribbles down his chin, both from the meat and his own mouth.

“Oh, shit, I am so sorry! Let me help, um-” Marcus grabs a napkin, and starts trying to unfold it.

Amy and Glenn round the corner at that exact moment. Marcus looks at them with slight fear. “Not what it looks like!”

Jonah coughs, spitting out the steak onto his lap. “This game went horribly wrong!” He takes off the blindfold and grabs a napkin himself, pressing it to the roof of his mouth.

Glenn looks like he’s about to faint. Amy holds her hands up. “What the hell happened?!”

“I was seeing if Jonah could tell different steaks apart and I kind of, uh, stabbed his mouth.”

Jonah looks at Marcus with an incredulous glare (that almost seems to have concern mixed in, but all of Jonah’s expressions look like that).

“Okay, Marcus, go back to the warehouse! Jonah, let me see- dammit, okay, lets go find some kind of antibiotic mouth spray or something-” 

She leads Jonah away as Glenn and Marcus are left behind.

Glenn looks around for a moment, swinging his arms. “So, um... how did he do?”

Marcus smiles. “Awesome,” he chuckles. “That guy is totally a vampire, I’d bet my windshield.”

“Oh.” Glenn’s voice is weak. “I-I think I need to sit down.”

Marcus holds up a plate. “Want a steak?”

“... Sure.”

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

Amy takes the plastic off the spray and holds it up. “Okay, take away the napkin.”

Jonah takes it out of his mouth, and Amy shines a light in so she can aim the spray. “Where did he get you? I can’t see any holes.”

Jonah points. Amy squints. “No, there’s nothing. Not even any bleeding.”

They both look at the very bloody napkin.

Amy’s brows furrow. “... Sure healed fast.”

“I-I guess it felt worse than it was.” Jonah runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”

She checks again, and her eyes drift to his teeth. ... Are those two actually sharper, or is she just imagining it?

“... Yeah. Nothing.”

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

Jonah heads back out onto the floor, stomach rumbling. He got two bites of steak, which just made him more hungry really.

He passes by the grills. Glenn and Marcus are gone, but a steak remains. The rare one.

He stares at it for a moment, and then gives in. He walks over, picks up the plate-

And the next thing he knows he’s holding the steak in his hands, and it’s bone-dry. He blinks, and looks up and around as though he thinks someone else could have come in and dried out the steak.

He has a metallic taste in his mouth, and he does feel marginally less hungry. Still at a stomach-growling level, but it had been starting to hurt.

He looks down at the now inedible steak. He sets it back down and walks away, trying to figure out what the hell happened and why he had blacked out again.

He passes by Sandra, who’s texting something to someone.

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

“Another point to Vampire.” Cheyenne smugly marks it down. “Told you.”

“Alright, alright, I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Mateo admits. “So what do we do? I mean, we can’t keep working with him now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if he tries to bite us?”

“Ooooh. ... I guess I hadn’t thought of that. ... He’s probably going to be a nice vampire, though.”

“Sure, for now. But what if someone like, eats his lunch?”

“Wouldn’t his lunch be people now?”

“Okay, so then, what if someone becomes his lunch? ... Should we carry garlic on us?”

“Ew.”

“Super ew, but I think I’d rather stink than be dead. Which is saying a lot, when I run out of cologne I use Febreeze.”

“Which kind?”

“The sea breeze one.”

Cheyenne nods approvingly. “Well, maybe we can get some holy water? I bet Glenn could get us some.”

“Oh, I think there’s some at my house, actually. Tita uses it when we get ant infestations.”

They both smile at their foolproof plan, and keep working.

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

Amy watches Jonah from a distance.

He can’t be. It’s just not possible. Vampires aren’t real, they’re just in books she swipes from Emma (and reads herself) sometimes. And besides, Jonah doesn’t look like one!

Well, he kind of does, but he looked like that before this morning. Although he does look a little paler than usual...

No, no, it’s winter, of course he looks paler than usual, everyone looks paler than usual because there’s no sun.

... It was weird how his mouth was completely fine... and he has been acting weird today...

...

She plasters on a smile and walks over. “Hey, Jonah.” She wraps him up in a big hug.

“Oh! Um, hi, Amy.” He hugs back, and Amy shivers a little.

He is freezing.

She pulls away. “Just restocking the freezer?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Oh. You just, feel really cold.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a chill all day.” He rubs his arms. “Not even coffee helped. But I don’t think I have hypothermia, so I’m not sure what’s going on...”

Now Amy feels a chill. “Well, um, how about we go sit by that heater display, then?”

“Yes, thank you, I need that.” 

As they walk, Amy tries to get a good look at his teeth. He rambles on the whole way over, but she can’t get a good, clear view. 

They sit down, and Jonah sighs. “Oh, that’s so much better. Feel less like a walking corpse now.” He laughs at himself.

Amy laughs too, forcing it out as she eyes his smile.

Those two teeth are definitely longer.

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

The sun sets over the Cloud 9, and Jonah sighs in relief. Finally, almost time to go home. He’s going to sleep right awa-

He pauses his mopping (someone chugged three giant sodas and did not have the stomach for it). 

Where did that sudden burst of energy come from? 

“Must be the relief,” he mutters. He finishes mopping up, and is immediately approached by a customer.

“Excuse me, but there’s a section back there with broken lights. Can you help me find my way around?”

Jonah sighs, hands on his hips, but nods. “Sure! Sure, no problem.” 

He hadn’t even noticed the broken lights earlier, he could have sworn he could see perfectly. He follows the customer over to the dim, isolated area.

And blacks out.

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

“Hey, Cheyenne?” Amy walks up to the cosmetics booth. “I heard you guys did a betting pool about Jonah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cheyenne chuckles. “It was super fun, everyone was sending me stuff all day and some of the tests were super silly-”

“How about we shut it down?”

“... But, it’s almost the end of the day...”

“Yeah, I know, I know, just, it seems in poor taste.”

“How?”

“Kind of feels like it’s making light of what happened to Jonah, right? And I mean, I don’t know how I feel about gambling about someone who has a gambling problem, you know?”

Cheyenne considers, and nods. “Well, we won’t keep it up, it was just for today. We all know the answer anyway, he’s totally a vampire.”

“No! No, uh, he isn’t, because vampires don’t exist. So he can’t be.”

“Um, he totally is.”

“But he is not, because that’s fantasy.”

“No, really! Look at all this evidence everyone sent me.” Cheyenne pulls out her phone and shows the group chat to Amy. “We would have counted you in but... well, this.” She gestures to Amy, and the current conversation as a whole.

A crowd has begun to gather. Amy turns and looks at everyone. “Okay, guys, it was a fun day but this, vampire betting pool thing is over!”

There’s disgruntled chattering. “So there’s no payout?” someone shouts.

“Nope, everyone should take their own money back and let’s leave this to rest!”

“Like Jonah?” someone else jokes. The group chuckles.

“Not like Jonah, because Jonah is alive and well!”

“Well, vampires aren’t technically alive-”

“Sandra!” Amy snaps. “He is not a vampire!”

Dina scoffs. “Come on, even I think it’s obvious, and I’m not prone to thinking stuff like that. Unlike Glenn.”

“Where is Glenn, actually, he should be putting a stop to this-”

“He went home early. Something about needing to start a fundraiser to buy Jonah a new soul. His pastor is a con artist, but I respect his convincing marketing.”

“... Okay, then, Dina you put a stop to this.”

“Why?”

“Because Jonah! Is not! A vampire! There are no such things, and-and he just can’t be one, okay? Because he is a-a nervous, stuttery, sweet little man and it’s just not possible!”

Sandra glances over into the isles, and stiffens. “Uh, guys?”

“It could all be a ruse,” Dina says with a shrug. “He’s a creature of the night now. Can’t trust him anymore.”

“No, he is not!”

“Why are you so insistent about this?” Mateo asks. 

“Why are you wearing a cross choker like you’re a teen going through a phase?” Amy fires back.

“This is to protect my bodily fluids from your ‘sweet little man’.” Mateo makes a sassy face at her.

“Guys,” Sandra says again, a little louder.

“He’s not my sweet little, I just meant he is in general a good guy!”

Garrett, highly amused, joins in the teasing. “Good looking?” 

“No! I mean, yes, kind of, he’s not bad I-I guess- how did this turn into a thing about me? Stop saying Jonah is a vampire when he is not!”

“Guys!” Sandra’s shout finally draws everyone’s attention. “Look.”

A blank-eyed customer shuffles out of the isles, a worried Jonah following. “Ma’am, please, are you okay? Do you need me to walk you to your car? What happened?”

She doesn’t reply, which seems to make Jonah more frantic. As she walks past, everyone gets a clear view of her neck. 

Two little holes, slightly bleeding.

And Jonah seems to have more color in his face.

“Ma’am, please, what happened in the isle? Did you trip? Did I trip and fall into you? Whatever happened I am very sorry-”

They both disappear out the doors. Cheyenne lowers her phone. “I’m texting that to Glenn.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the only sounds those of Cheyenne typing on her phone.

Finally, Dina pipes up. “I think Amy lost the pool.”

[kimpson]

My name is James kim.

This Is How I Came To Know What I Now Know, That I Am helping patients all over the world. Am putting this down now because I have had allot of patients asked how I do came about this protocol.

feel grateful to be able to tell my story that will make you aware of my background and how I arrived here.

Like so many people, I was scared, tearful and very distraught after my mother received her cancer diagnosis. Over the next 6-12 months the medical establishment tried, but nothing the doctors had to offer appeared to stop the metastasized cancer from taking over her entire body. She did what research she could about terms like; how to get rid of cancer naturally, holistic treatments and cures for metastasized cancer, and alternative cancer treatments that work.

Sadly, she never found anything that she thought would work for her.

My Father also had a real scare with a cancerous left kidney. His cancer hadn’t metastasized so his Doctors removed the kidney and he has been fine ever since. Then a day that I hoped would never come, came.

My mother said she did not think she was going to survive her cancer, the thought of which left me terrified and petrified thinking I was going to lose my mother to cancer.

Worse yet, the thought of her spending her last days in a hospice bed paralyzed me with fear and left me wanting to do nothing more than to curl up in a corner somewhere.

But instead of feeling sorry for myself and wanting to do what I could to save my mother, I chose to spend my time Googling terms like; how to cure stage 4 cancer naturally, natural lung cancer cures, natural treatment for lung cancer, natural cure for lung cancer, natural remedies for lung cancer and a whole bunch more.

My wife saw me doing these online searches, and she and the kids pleaded with me to accept the inevitable and to start preparing myself for the worse.

I was a useless wreck!

My Only Options :

(1)Pray, hope and plead while waiting for cancer to kill her

(2)Try to figure out how to slow down or stop her cancer long enough for her to die from old age instead.

As you might have guessed, I chose option 2 and then I aggressively launched a mission to save her life. Fear and desperation are probably two of the greatest motivators there are.

Available on the web were tons of books and hundreds of websites offering anywhere from a single product that cures every disease mankind has ever known, including those trying to tell you how to get rid of cancer naturally. To even more websites offering “2-299 guaranteed surefire alternative lung cancer treatments using the root from some plant that is only found in the Amazon Rain Forest or on a mountain top somewhere in India.

Common sense and research told me that all of these were a waste of time.

Common Sense and Research

Let me be brutally honest with you. I found no magic pill or secret drug out there that could cure cancer or keep her alive.

Especially after you’ve done multiple rounds of chemo and/or radiation. Odds are it’s over! Close the shades, update your will, finalize your funeral arrangements, and kiss your family and friends goodbye. I was seeing this first hand with my mother, and the saddest part is that the only certain thing is WHEN and not IF she would succumb to the cancer metastasis.

Many times I wanted to give up on finding a solution. I had almost come to terms with the reality that she’d be dead in 6 Months. I went through a gamut of emotions like fear, anxiety, dread and anger. But I channeled those emotions and went about the work of saving her.

Please allow me the pleasure of sharing with you the ” Eureka” moment when everything all came together. What I found is:

I quickly concluded that after many decades of waging war on cancer there had to be legitimate, valid and credible studies that revealed an effective alternative cancer treatment protocol.

After hundreds, if not thousands of hours of searching the web and reading hundreds of these research studies, my hard work and relentless efforts were rewarded.

I found several studies that had been rigorously peer-reviewed and which were supported by hundreds more rigorously reviewed university studies. What all of these studies did was to put together for me a genuine, scientifically validated treatment program that was virtually certain, at a minimum, to stop her cancer metastasis in its tracks, if not outright cure it!

The researchers declared this treatment as, likely to be “more successful than current approaches because it is based on the principles of evolutionary biology and metabolic control analysis” and that it could truly be an alternative cancer treatment and cure.

So if you needed an:

-alternative breast cancer treatment

-alternative prostate cancer treatment

-alternative pancreatic cancer treatment

-alternative liver cancer treatment

Then this is your ticket to a real chance to treat and beat your disease!

However, I like to be as close to 100% sure as I can get. So I looked at how The American Cancer Society (ACS) evaluates mainstream and alternative cancer treatments.

They do this by asking three questions:

1) Has the method been objectively demonstrated in the peer-reviewed scientific literature to be effective?

2) Has the method shown potential for benefit that exceeds the potential for harm?

3) Have objective studies been correctly conducted under appropriate peer review to answer these questions?

Fortunately, I was able to answer all those questions with a resounding YES! Every single piece of knowledge reinforced my belief that this truly would give me a great chance at keeping her alive especially since current mainstream protocols like surgery, chemo, and radiation had failed her.

The Well-Known Secret is Finally Available

It’s not a secret that Big Pharma makes some very vicious business decisions. So it should be fairly easy to see there is not a Big Pharma business person that would spend millions to educate MDs or the General Public about a cheap and effective treatment protocol. Even if it has been scientifically validated by elite research scientists time and time again. Just because it has zero potential to add to Big Pharma’s already massive net profits.

But what I learnt earn is the findings scientists have known about for decades.

That you stand an outstanding chance of defeating cancer if not outright curing it, IF the right protocol is used.

What your cancer cells need to kill you, are the nutrients (glucose and secondarily glutamine) that the blood vessels bring to them so that they can continue to grow and metastasize. Because cancer in and of itself won’t kill you. It is the ongoing and uncontrolled growth of cancer that eventually overwhelms your body and kills you.

So the key to not dying from cancer is to be able to slow down or kill enough cancer cells so that they don’t overrun your body.

Research scientists have known and proven this over and over again for decades. This protocol teaches you the specific details of what to do so that you can effectively starve cancer and then eradicate it while ensuring that your normal cells remain very healthy. And the best part is, this protocol does it very quickly, cheaply and most importantly very EFFECTIVELY!

The 70+years of clinical science that supports it, is overwhelming.

If you have cancer of any origin, no matter how aggressive it is, or even if it has metastasized, YOU DON’T have to be DEAD too soon.

Quite the contrary, you will have a plan, that is a whole body and systemic protocol that will suffocate, starve, poison and kill cancer anywhere in the body. It matters not if it has been declared untreatable cancer. Metastasized or still localized. It doesn’t matter the origin (lung, breast, liver, pancreas, etc).

You Won’t Have to Worry to Death Anymore

[ms-demeanor]

thank you for posting more about how much you hate that idiot fucking book I fucking live for this

I have, no joke, probably read Atlas Shrugged a hundred times. I’m on my twelfth copy. I won one of those copies for entering one of the Ayn Rand scholarship essay contests. I once helped a communist friend of mine write an objectivist essay in order to apply for financial aid because “I don’t think like those people, you do”

(full disclosure y’all, I was a libertarian raised by libertarians and i stayed that way until my mid twenties)

I don’t know that I hate it so much as I’m completely fascinated by it.

I actually consider it a REALLY interesting piece of dystopian literature that I enjoy as a dystopia but it is so hyperbolic that it almost reaches the level of magic realism.

Atlas Shrugged (along with most of Rand’s other work) is so fundamentally broken in its assumptions about what motivates people to do what they do that it has always struck me as a weird dreamy fantasy novel. Like, imagine describing the construction of New York’s skyscrapers in a Lana Del Rey music video but all the characters are Fae and have impenetrable social rules about what is acceptable behavior.

And I know I’m in the minority here but I genuinely enjoy her prose, with the obvious caveats that the John Galt speech is terrible and the clear power exchange fetish works better if it’s addressed as a fetish instead of a weird recurring rape fantasy.

I don’t want to make excuses for Rand; her philosophy is ghoulish and her real-life attitudes about imperialism and capitalism and, just like, human rights and interpersonal relationships are repugnant. But if you want to get some insight into *why* she’s like this I’d recommend reading We the Living; it may not be accurate and when it was published it was controversial and frequently considered anticommunist propaganda (how fucking strange is it that a book published in the united states would be controversial for being anticommunist; that really hammers home how successful mccarthyism was) but I get the sense that it’s very much what *she* believed to be true in her experience and since I didn’t grow up in Soviet Russia and defect to the US I can’t exactly say she wasn’t, to a certain extent, justified in her views.

But, god, the way you see that exploded out in later work is just farcical. It’s so dramatic and overwrought - it’s not enough that politicians make mistakes or are self-interested, no, they’re moochers who are out to hasten the end of the world, bloodsucking parasites looking to enslave anybody with the audacity to be productive. It’s not enough that Lillian Rearden married for money, no, she’s out to destroy the soul of the productive man, only capable of measuring her worth by how far she’s able to make her husband fall. It’s not enough that Jim Taggart is an inept company president put in place by nepotism instead of skill, he’s also working to tear down everything his sister built because he wants her reputation but also wants to destroy her for having the gall to accomplish the things that built that reputation.

It’s fascinating. It’s bizarre. It’s looking through a glass darkly, examining the private fears of petty, bitter people. It’s not true, but there’s a truthiness to it to the people who buy into it; they haven’t experienced the world the way that Rand has written it but that’s how they believe the world works and they’re taking her writing as the evidence for it.

AND WHAT DRIVES ME UP THE WALL IS THAT IT’S SO CLOSE TO BEING RADICAL.

Like, okay, look at The Fountainhead - the climax of the book is about a dude who’s frustrated that his art is being perverted by bureaucracy and who wants equal access to fair housing. Crooked contractors and bloated budgets fueled by favoritism and scope creep are all legitimate problems with state building projects and the idea of working on one of those and wanting to blow it up is SUPER relatable. Yeah, dudes, I don’t want the DeVos family getting any more contracts from the government, I don’t want contractors who have worked with Trump bidding on housing projects. That DOES seem fucked up.

But I mean come on, you’ve got a journalist right there in your storyline; the way you make a hero isn’t to blow up a housing project it’s to report on the corruption. But the journalist is one of the craven lesser men Dominique fucks to get back at Roark to punish him for working with statists. So an exposé is out and an explosion is in.

And I know that seems radical but the thing is it’s not a call to fix a corrupt system, it’s not looking to replace a flawed method with a better method - it’s saying “my way or not at all” and that’s just. Petty. Petulant and wasteful.

Childish.

Same for Galt’s Gulch and the “Strike of the Mind” - in Galt’s Gulch there’s a fucking *doctor* who bitches that he was made to heal people who he thought didn’t contribute to enough to society. Dude. DUDE. Keep your mobile xray technology, and your cure for strokes; I’d prefer a doctor who isn’t basically a eugenicist.

FUCK.

It’s so frustrating that she creates this world where everything can be abundant and everything can be accessible and instead of going “luxury gay space communist post-scarcity society” she goes “what if everything COULD be free but instead we had the gold standard and let children with the “wrong” parents starve to death?”

(uh, in case it’s not clear: I’ve had something of a strong ideological shift away from the libertarian party)

And oh god the way she writes and thinks about women.

You know what, I’ve had arguments with some people about the “I’m not like other girls” trope and if/how it exists and Ayn Rand’s protagonists are the perfect example. Dominique only hosts tea parties in order to crush the soul of the man who won’t live up to her exacting standards, not because she likes them or wants friends or anything. Dagny has a long straight neck and an imperious profile and the short hair of an American woman; she saw a bunch of socialists once and put her middle finger up at them. She didn’t want to come out in society at a ball (and be flirted with by boring boys like some kind of silly GIRL), she wanted to go back to the trains (and also maybe get fucked rough against a wall by a man who knew what she deserved and was bold enough to give it to her) like a serious person. Ayn Rand is the queen of Not Like Those Other Girls.

Goddamnit.

Also everybody talks about how awful the John Galt Speech is but the John Galt torture scene? Hot. Great. 10/10 whump. Please skip the rest of the book and instead read about Galt’s friends/admirers rescuing him and tenderly wrapping his shaking shoulders before they carry him to safety, silently brimming with emotion and pride at how well he resisted the torture. (I maintain that if Rand had stuck to just writing actual porn she’d be much better thought-on and more widely beloved because her fetishy stuff only sucks in context; pull it out of her screeds against altruism and you’ve got something that it at least five orders of magnitude better than 50 Shades)

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 22: Deader is Better (Loki x OFC Pairing)

It was exactly one day before the greatest holiday of all time, and not just because I was the most powerful I'd ever be that year. The streets were packed with people, every parking lot was booked solid, every parking space even, residents were even renting out some of their spaces for pocket money. Loki and I helped out Zari with her little store in exchange for letting us crash at her place, Loki was both surprised and delighted by how accepting people were of him even after asking if he was who he was. I explained to him that while the country as a whole has a longass way before it can be completely progressive and welcoming, Salem, being one of the first historical places here that destroyed itself in fear and intolerance, was probably the first to turn that around. It went from burning, hanging, crushing, and torturing people that were considered different and therefore dangerous to welcoming the different and weird as one of their own. No one even cared he took over New York, what they saw was an alien army attacking the city and a god that brought a bunch of heroes together to stop them.

"If Asgard were still around, I wish it had a city like this, celebrating magic and welcoming the weird as you'd say," mused Loki.

"Isn't there a realm entirely like that? Where the Light Elves live?"

"Look at you, trying to learn my culture," he teased. "It was where my mother learned magic and passed it onto me, yes. But we didn't go there often enough for me to call it another home. Most of the time, if we went anywhere it was to beat the natives into submission thanks entirely to Thor."

"For all the advancements your people had on us, the technology, the magic, the fuckton more years in a lifespan, you're not that far off in some idealogies from us. Rarely does peaceful methods end a dispute between peoples. Oh sure, there's been tons of times we tried that, it rarely works in our favor though. Peaceful rallies or marches are usually ended with police brutality they claim is the right way even when they're throwing tear gas grenades at unarmed civilians, tazing random protesters they later claim as dangerous, or just blasting them with high pressured firemen hoses. It always ends badly, with injuries, false claims, and injustice. I'd seriously love to meet Odin just to tell him he ain't special."

Loki smiled at this and kissing the top of my head. "I shouldn't be proud of you despising him like I did, but I am anyway. I am glad you met my mother in some form though, I had a feeling she'd like you."

"She told me to trust you and that in doing so, you'd stay with me as no one else besides Thor if even that, has trusted you since you came here indefinitely. A lonely existence that is, everyone keeping you at arms length. I can understand that, outside of Salem, skin color alone is an excuse not to trust someone, people see someone that looks like they're past their expiration date like me and they go running. Hell, even hair color or skin ink can keep you from getting jobs here, we're still an extremely regressive country. Not worth saving anytime soon."

"Then why bother?"

"Because unfortunately I'm one of the idiots inhabiting it with no way to some place better."

"I asked Thor why he fought so hard to protect this speck of a planet once, don't recall him giving me a good answer but yours shall suffice, if nothing else, because you're part of it."

"Whoa, hold your eight legged horses, you really don't need to do that...at all. Just find a way out of here if we can't at least save this city, the Avengers can handle this planet and if they can't...well at least they tried right? We don't need to get involved when neither of us signed any kind of hero contract like they did."

"You sure?"

"I'm not just sure...I'm HIV positive."

"You'd have to be alive to contract that disease and I'm not quite sure it would transmit to something already dead."

I opened my mouth to retaliate but something else stayed my tongue for a moment, something felt wrong, unnatural even. "Listen...do you smell that?" I asked curiously. Loki didn't get a chance to answer as a great surge of necro-power struck me full force and I was sent flying back several feet away, breaking several trees of the park we were enjoying till then along the way before my back slammed against a particularly thick one and I stopped flying. A dull pain exploded from my chest mere inches from where the stone was protecting my important bits and cool black blood lightly dripped from my lips. I looked down at where the pain came from and blinked in surprise.

"Oh look I've been impaled," I mused before breaking off the branch sticking out of my body and stepped away from the tree behind me. I looked for the source of the power surge and glared as I spotted the culprit walking toward us.

"Are you hurt?" asked Loki warily.

"Just a flesh wound," I assured him, gathering power from behind into my arms and fists. "You might wanna sit this one out though."

"No no, let him try," the attacker taunted as he got closer to us.

"I knew I smelled something rotten in the wind," I muttered. "What is it this time? First the heart, now the brain rotting away, would make sense if it was you that sold us all out."

The man before us glowered at me then flashed rotting, blackened teeth, while for the most part he looked alive, he was essentially rotting from the inside out. "You aren't the only one with a stone organ, my head will remain just as much as your heart does till I rip that out of you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Lemme guess, one of your Hydra buddies was a brain surgeon or so he claims. They all think themselves doctors of something that organization, not one medical degree posted when I was with them though, kinda makes you wonder."

"They don't need doctors for corpses," he snapped.

"You sure you're not braindead? Cuz I'm sure coroners and morticians both require a medical degree to be licensed with the job."

"Have a few run-ins with those folks have you?" he sneered. "You know the best part about you was at the very least being a warm body at the end of the day, now you don't even have that."

I snorted at his attempt to insult me. "Oh hun, the best part of you ran down your mother's legs. You gonna bark all day, you little bitch, or are you gonna bite?"

He held his hands to his head and another ball of smoke and lightning came hurtling at us but this time it was aiming for Loki at breathtaking speed, he was essentially pulling an Azula on me thinking I'd either let Loki get hit or take it myself but I saw his Azula and raised him a Dumbledore, telling my guiding spirits to yank him away from the path of the ball as I wouldn't be fast enough to help myself. I waved my hand toward Loki and he was suddenly swept aside and away from the direct battle ahead. Loki scrambled to his feet, a dagger in each hand and returning to his battle armor swiftly, glancing at me in shock. I mouthed a sorry to him before focusing all my attention to the rotten necromancer in front of me.

"Targeting what's mine isn't your best move when you really don't need to give me more motives to decapitate you than you already have," I warned.

"I know he's your weakness though. I want to see just how weak he really makes you," he sneered. "If what doesn't kill you makes you strong, what about when you're already dead."

"You're well on your way to finding that out yourself, hun. I can help answer that for you though." I thrust out a hand and black lightning flew from my fingertips. My rival managed to shield some of it with his own magic but as he wasn't a demi god the impact of that much power still sent him flying back. I didn't wait for him to get up though as I charged at him with a ball of power around each fist.

He rolled away right before I could punch in his head and destroy the stone inside it and got to his feet as I stood up, charging at me as I straightened up so we were suddenly toe to toe trying to kill each other. For a solid few minutes it was just dodging and exchanging blows and balls of energy before he decided to get sneaky and tried to slash me with his ceremonial dagger hidden in his boot. I dodged it just enough to not actually cut me but it did do some damage to my hoodie which had me glaring at him as I loved my hoodies. From there, it was throwing either each other, balls of power, or punches at each other with him occasionally trying to throw power at Loki who quickly learned to keep an eye on his attacks as much as I was without interfering, this wasn't his fight anymore. The ground around us was starting to look barren and dead from the effects of our powers used against one another, the grass brittle and brown. We both paused for a moment, both battered and frustrated neither of us were getting the upper hand with what we were doing.

"Why won't you stay down?!" he demanded.

I scoffed. "What is dead can never die. What's your dilemma here? What did Hydra even offer you to make you switch sides?"

"A chance to be something greater than this, the other necromancer, to be a demigod."

"And how's that working out for you?" I asked in bemusement. "They aren't higher powers, they're hired powers, there's a difference. There's no cutting corners on that one, ask nicely or die trying. How did you know where to find me? On the plane?"

"I had a spook tail you, not all the spirits are on your side you know."

"The good ones are, the rest are usually locked or exorcised so kudos on finding one of the select few willing to help a brother out."

He narrowed his eyes at me, collecting powers as he did. "If I'm not given what I want, then I'll have to take it myself just like I did with the other necromancers that went against me."

"And that's why no matter where that stone is surgically implanted in you, you will never be one of us, going against your own kind for something you'll never get." I lowered one hand to the ground and reached into the earth with just death magic alone, calling for something very specific as I waited for him to make the first move this time. "Especially not from me."

"And what makes you so special?" he demanded.

"Come here and find out." He lunged forward, taking the bait and I dropped to one knee at the last second, dodging his power-fist at the same time a rotted hand burst from the ground with my own dagger I snatched up and sliced into my enemy's rotted guts. He stumbled back, his free hand going to his stomach as he was weakened but not done for, the stone keeping him barely alive inside him. "Almost seems pointless since you're already decaying inside."

He looked at the wound I gave him from my dagger and glared at me as it was already speeding up the process. "You little cunt."

"Let me guess, you're gonna kill me, right? Join the line of people with empty threats they never finish."

Black lightning danced around his head and down to his body, staving off the spreading death from reaching his neck but not healing the blade wound either. "Should I rip out your soul first or your stone?"

"You say that like you've actually gotten the upper hand in this fight but who here has the unhealed wound and who here has survived worse?" I retorted.

He sneered at me with his rotten teeth and lunged forward once more but being the slimy little bastard he was, pulled his dagger apart so there were actually two identical ones and threw one at my leg while making a bee line around me with the other dagger at Loki. I gritted my teeth as the dagger hit its mark in my thigh and not wasting time even to take it out of me, threw a power ball at him from behind so he couldn't dodge it and sent him off his course to my lover. I then took out the dagger in my leg and limped over to the bastard despite the agony burning through the entire limb. I didn't wait for him to get up and kicked him hard in the head right where I guessed the stone was before aiming for the wound I gave him with my blade. "Silly asshat, kicks are for ribs." His snapped under my leather boots. He tried to throw the other knife he still had at Loki but I caught it this time and dissolved the twin dagger like I did the one in my leg. I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up, and slamming into another park tree while holding him in place.

"You really wanna know why you can't kill me after all this time?" I challenged.

"You don't scare me, Nell," he choked out.

I recalled what the Wiccan seer had told me and let go of everything holding me back. "I can fix that. You can't kill a Horsemen." A different kind of power rippled throughout my body, not necromancy, but something stronger, eternal and deadly and incomparable. The entire arm and hand holding him up was skeletal as was half my face and that's when fear started to leak into his. He fought and wiggled in my grasp, trying to pry my bones off his neck but my finger bones just dug in deeper while he kicked at me. I raised my free hand, also all bones, and went for his head, aiming for the stone still managing to keep him alive when his throat was slowly being punctured and torn. And then the world seemed to pause, everything went silent and still, everything was frozen even including most of me as I couldn't seem to reach the stone in his head but was poised to grab it out of his forehead. And then something else happened, something that only happened to me when something very specific was coming. I got what Peter Parker would call the "the Peter tingle" and chills ran up and down my body despite the whole lack of nerves and feelings thing I had being a skeleton.

[deliciouspeachpirate]

“Take my hand. Just trust me.”

A/N Here you go @prettyinlimegreenboots! I hope you like this! Its a little bit all over the place and the ending is a little wack, but I’m still happy with it. I think it’s actually the longest thing I have written to date. It does have character death, mentions of alcohol, and some generally sad stuff so please be careful! I have several other fics I’m working on right now so it will take a bit, but requests are always open! Enjoy!

It was late November and the days were starting to get shorter and colder. So far selling wasn't too much harder than normal, though the loss of so much daylight made it a bit more difficult. Jack knew that pretty soon fewer people would be willing to take even a few seconds longer than needed outside to buy a newspaper and that the boys were going to need all the money they could get for the coming winter. Winter was like a downward spiral. It got colder and people needed better coats, mittens, etc, but it was harder to sell enough papes to pay for it. Not to mention that after getting new clothes you still had to get food, figure out how to keep the lodge warm enough for everyone, keep the boys from getting sick for as long as he could, and then take care of them once they did inevitably get sick, all while making far less than they did in the summer. Winter was always the hardest time to be the leader of the newsies. Jack couldn't bear the thought of what might happen if someone got really sick and they couldn't afford medicine or a doctor. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing one of his newsies. His friends, his brothers, his family. They were all each other had and the possibility of someone getting sick and not recovering was very real. It had happened before and he didn't know if they could get through it again.

A little boy was lying in bed, extra blankets, some of which the older boys had given up, pulled up to his chin so that only his clammy face was visible. Despite the blankets and sweat slicking his hair down against his cheeks and forming beads on his forehead, his was still shivering. He hadn't left the bed for weeks. What had started out as a small cough and runny nose had spiraled until he collapsed one day on the way back to the lodging house.

Jack couldn't believe he had let the kid sell, but everyone needed the money and he couldn't let a little cough mean this kid didn't eat or sleep in the lodging house that night. He would have payed for him himself, but he had just bought a new coat for little Romeo and couldn't afford to cover the kid's board until he felt better. It was his first winter as Manhattan's leader. He was only fourteen at the time and didn't know what he was doing. How he wished he didn't let that little kid sell.

Crutchie hadn't smiled in at least a week. Race had stopped talking almost entirely, only ever saying anything that didn't directly have to do with selling to Jack and Albert. Even the younger kids were picking up on the fact that this was not just some ordinary cold. The entire lodge was quieter than it had ever been before. He hadn't stirred in days. They couldn't get him to eat anything and had resorted to forcing little sips of water past his lips hoping it could help. Jack didn't know what to do. They couldn't afford to get any help for him, but none of the methods they knew were helping. He was slipped away more and more every day.

Specs had been sitting with him when it happened. It was one of the few times Jack had ever seen him cry. One moment he had been breathing shakily, the next no sound came from his at all.

Jack was drawing in his penthouse, trying desperately to relax and rest a bit before he went down to replace Specs for a few hours until Finch's turn. It was freezing and a light snow was falling but Jack couldn't bring himself to care. Suddenly a chocked cry came from the bunkroom below him. Jack felt his stomach drop and he knew what had happened even before he saw the tear working its way down Specs' face.

They couldn't afford any real coffin for tombstone for him. He was taken away in an ordinary pine box and buried in a peasant's grave with nothing to mark who he was. There was no fancy church service. No pastor to say anything over his grave or to pray over him. The boys didn't have time to say their goodbyes, though most of them had been for days. The world stood still and he felt like there was nothing in him when he saw the box get taken away. He had kept his tears at bay, refusing to cry in front of the boys he was supposed to lead, to protect. But he had failed and now one of them was dead

Finch didn't come home that night. When Jack caught him as he stumbled through the door the next morning, his eyes were red and he smelled like alcohol. The tears hadn't dried yet on his cheeks. Jack couldn't find it in himself to tell Finch off, even if he knew he should. He was never quite the same after the kid's death.

That same winter, Jack decided that he wasn't going to let one of his boys go without something they needed if it was at all in his power to get it for them. He vowed to take care of them, no matter what it cost him. No one would go without a roof over their head, dinner, or mittens, even if it meant Jack had to give up his own. No one became a newsie just for fun. They all had something they were running from, some hardship in their past, or something they wanted to forget. Jack decided that as leader it shouldn't just be his job to tell his newsies what to do, but to take care of them. Starting in the winter of 1896, Jack made sure that the Manhattan newsies were a family.

Jack pushed away the memories of his failings in his early days as leader. He tried to think about what Crutchie had said when he'd confided in him on the roof top about how he felt after the ordeal. Crutchie had reminded him that he had been a fourteen year old kid, forced to take care of a bunch of other children after the disappearance of their old leader, and had no experience or help from anyone. No one had told him how to lead them and he was just trying to do the best for his boys. As much as it hurt and as easy as it was to blame himself, he couldn't have known and it wasn't his fault. All the same, Jack had vowed not to let anyone suffer if he could do something about it.

So when he was on his way back to the lodging house after selling his papers and came across a little girl shivering in an alley way, his mind was already made up about what he was going to do.

She was tiny, probably about eight. Judging by her thin frame, dirty dress, and the fact she was in an alley by herself with winter coming on, she probably didn't have anyone to take care of her. Unfortunately, it wasn't at all uncommon in New York for a kid to be living on the streets. The girl hadn't noticed Jack yet, so he approached her cautiously and knelt down a few feet away.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Watchu doing out here?" He spoke to her in the higher, gentler voice he typically saved for when one of the littles was scared.

She jumped and turned to look at him, not saying anything. She didn't seem to afraid of him, more surprised that he was talking to her. Years of experience taught him that if she had expected him to hurt her she would likely have flinched away or tried to run rather than just jumping. Given that, she likely hadn't been kicked our or run away, rather being on her own through some kind of accident.

"My name's Jack, how bout you tell me yours? If you'd rather not we can just go get ya something to eat instead."

The little girl's eyes brightened a little bit at the prospect of food and she smiled a bit, but she didn't seem keen to up and leave with him just yet. Jack smiled a little at her and scooted so that he was sitting with his back against the alley wall across from her.

He put his chin in his hands and said, "Ya know, its pretty cold out here. I live a few blocks away with my siblings and its nice and warm there. They'd like you, and we even have a few girls livin' with us too!" His smile fell the tiniest bit when he saw her look down and bite her lip. She was clearly hesitating and he didn't blame her, but his heart hurt to know that someone so young already knew that some people might want to hurt her. He took a deep breath and held out a hand to her.

"Hey, squirt, I ain't gonna hurt you. Take my hand. Just trust me. If you don't like it back home with me, ya don't have to stay." His voice was soft now, just barely above a whisper as he looked into her eyes, silently begging for her to take his hand.

She considered him for a moment, taking in his face. Finally, she smiled shyly again and took his hand. Jack's face split into a wide grin as he helped her stand up and he was rewarded with an adorable gap toothed grin in response. The two of them walked hand in hand to the end of the alley where Jack scooped her up into his arms, balancing her on his hip. She immediately snuggled against his side, melting into him as he moved his thin coat to cover her shivering form.

"Ya know what squirt, I think I'm gonna call you Teddy, is that okay?" She giggled a bit at that and he felt her nod against him as he walked down the street towards home.

Jack knew he would never forget that little boy lying sick in bed, and he would never stop being afraid that he would lose another of his boys, but he was building something better than they had ever had before and he was going to help anyone who needed him if he could. Teddy was one of his siblings now and pretty soon she would be integrated into the rest of their crazy, loving family. He couldn't wait for the sleeping girl in his arms to wake up and see that she wasn't alone anymore and never had to be again. He was going to keep her safe.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 5 already, huh

In which I personally feel sorry for Sans only a little bit, guess when

Oh, and @lostmypotatoes? My brother actually doesn’t have The Virus, which makes me feel even worse for randomly shouting at you about it just because I happened to have our conversation open when I saw the text from my mom. Sorry again! Official chaptery link found here.

Sans had gotten used to waking up in a luxurious, his-sized bed, and after a full week with the High Priestess, he felt he could handle being stuck in the humans' castle for twenty-three more days; it was amazing to sleep so soundly, and he could think of about a million worse fates than spending his waking hours with Frisk. What he could not handle was having a really wonderful dream like that, only to wake up wifeless, childless, and absolutely certain he'd remain that way for the rest of his unnatural life.

He tried not to blame Frisk for it, he really did, but as he emerged from his room, she was sitting at the worktable in her robe with another goddamn proposal in hand, as if to taunt him. "Good...morning," she said. "Are you all right?"

"F'fn m'rg," he muttered.

"I see. I didn't sleep well, either." When he didn't respond, the priestess shrugged and went back to her letter.

The boss monster sat down at the worktable and selected a book at random, trying to shake off the feeling of his dream-wife messing with his face. Less than five minutes later, someone knocked at the door; Sans started to sweep books and mixing tools aside to make room for breakfast, but Frisk shook her head as she got up. "It's Sunday, and I have matins in less than an hour. We won't get fed till afterwards. One minute, please!"

She was about halfway across the room when Sans sat bolt upright: the bar across the doors was lifting itself, and the double doors swung open from the outside. "Good morning," said a soft, scratchy voice.

"Er...good morning, Dr. Serif," Frisk said as the man walked in. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you." Though the worktable had several chairs pushed beneath it at widely spaced intervals, the doctor sat down next to Sans, ignoring the skeleton's glare and addressing Frisk: "When I informed His Majesty that I would be coming here this morning, he asked me to tell you that he and the Prince will be attending matins. I've brought several men to escort you to the chapel as soon as you're ready."

The High Priestess blinked, and said, "I see." She picked up her veil and headdress from the edge of the worktable. "Please excuse me, then."

Sans waited for her to disappear into her dressing room before he rounded on the royal sorcerer, resisting the urge to grab him by the neck. "What the hell are you doin' here, ya creepy bastard? You steal my magic 'n make Frisk use it, ya come here without askin' and open doors all by yerself—and how come we need a bunch of extra guys to go t'church all of a sudden?"

"She needs them because you will be staying here," said Dr. Serif, unperturbed. "We have several things to discuss, many of which do not directly concern Her Eminence and needn't come to her attention. She already has enough responsibilities for three women."

Sans couldn't argue with that, but he could and did tell the guy, "Hell with you. I'm not interested in anythin' ya have to say."

The doctor shrugged. "Very well. I will only ask you to listen to one word." He reached into his robe and retrieved the end of a very long, thin golden chain hanging from his neck, twisted the chain once around his finger, and pulled—

His face blurred and his hand melted, the flesh sliding off like warm wax. Beneath his pale human features was a long, bone-white, masklike face with black slashes above and beneath his hollow eyes, lipless mouth curving into a grin. His now-bony hand rose in greeting, chain twined around his phalange, its end dangling through the hole in his palm. "Boo," whispered the skeleton.

The door to Frisk's dressing room cracked open. "Shall I wait for you two, Dr. Serif?" she called. "Or will you keep Sans here and deprive him of another hour in church?"

The doctor dropped the chain and was human again. "Indeed, my lady," he said. "I am sorry to disappoint our visitor, and those who will come to see him for themselves, but I understand that monsters employ methods of collecting magical energy that would benefit us greatly. I wish to hear it from the horse's mouth."

"That's probably for the best. He's told me the basics, but I'm not an expert in metallurgy or alchemy, so I'm afraid most of it is over my head." Frisk closed the door behind her, settling her veil in place. "If nothing else, Sans can have a break from me. I think we've been getting along fairly well, but he's probably tired of being lectured." She paused by the edge of the worktable, where Sans was frozen in place. "Well, Sans? Shall I get out of your hair now?"

He was still reeling from what he'd seen, and only vaguely aware that he had to say something leaving-related. "Yeah, bye," he muttered.

He didn't see her start, or how her head ducked as she turned and left. The moment the doors closed, the royal sorcerer removed the chain from around his neck, setting it on the table and scowling at Sans like a disappointed teacher. "You realize you've hurt her feelings very much?" The slashes above and below his right and left sockets creased in disapproval. "No. You don't, do you."

"Well, you're hurting my fuckin' brain, ya—ow!"

Something had immediately smacked Sans in the back of the skull. He whipped around to see a disembodied hand hovering in the air, wagging a skeletal finger in disapproval before it vanished. "I will not tolerate rudeness," the doctor said severely. "Is that clear, young skeleton?"

The boss monster felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from beneath him. "Yeah, I guess so. That's about the only thing I do get right now."

"Understandable. I will begin by asking this, Sans: do you recognize me?"

That was a good question. The longer Sans looked at him, the less certain he was. "You...honestly, it feels like I used ta have nightmares with you in 'em, but I've had so many others since then that ya can't keep up. Competition's pretty stiff in here." He tapped his skull.

The doctor chuckled. "I see. Does the name 'W. D. Gaster' sound familiar?"

Sans flinched, and he didn't know why. He just knew that he wanted to open his head up and scrub the insides till the name was gone. "Not...really," he managed. "'Zat you?"

"More or less." Gaster half turned in his chair and snapped his fingers. Two more hands appeared at the windows, unlatching them and pushing them open to let the chill morning air stream in. "This is an informal meeting, principally to get acquainted again. We can start with this." He picked up the golden chain and held it out for Sans' inspection. "To the best of my knowledge – and I pride myself on thoroughness – there are no similar devices in use by any other monster in this kingdom. You should not be surprised in this fashion again."

"I sure fu—flippin' hope not," Sans remarked. "Whaddya mean, 'get acquainted again'?"

"Ah, you caught that. Well done." Gaster's mouth curved again. "We've met before, but you were so young that I'm not surprised you don't remember. The next question: would you like to have a device of your own, and the ability to appear human?"

Sans prided himself on not being dumb, but this was way too much, too fast. Gaster must have seen it in his expression, because he raised his palmless hands in a conciliatory gesture. "My apologies. I have been looking forward to this meeting for a long, long time, and I may be overly enthusiastic. I'll ask an easier question—did you kill the man found in the gardens yesterday?"

The boss monster put a hand to his skull, as if he could manually collect his thoughts. "The guy jumped. Didn't the King tell ya?"

"His Majesty told me what he was told, yes. Did Her Eminence see the assassin jump rather than give himself up, or did you throw him out the window after you squeezed him eighty-percent to death?" Gaster raised a finger as Sans started to protest. "Don't waste my time or yours, boy. The gentleman may have landed in an unhealthy fashion, but that does not explain the uniformly horizontal bruising across his front and back, or how he struck face-first and still managed to crack most of his thoracic vertebrae. His injuries were consistent with a very large hand doing a very large amount of damage before his fall."

Sans wasn't sorry, and he saw no reason to either lie or volunteer more information. He stared at Gaster, daring him to say anything more, and the royal sorcerer shook his head. "No, I will not judge you for taking drastic measures to save the High Priestess. The man was carrying three large knives and two empty sheaths, which suggests he was very serious in his purpose. Nor do I intend to trouble His Majesty or Frisk with this information, unless perhaps I find out that you crushed the man to pulp right in front of her."

"Hell, no, I didn't," Sans snapped. "Ya think I wanted her ta feel any more messed up than she already was? I didn't even let the f—the guy scream on the way down. She didn't hear anything, an' she didn't see anythin' after I got him outta the room." He drummed his fingertips on his femur. "And don't use her name. 's weird."

Gaster's brow twitched. "That answers that. Thank you."

The boss monster felt like something had gone over his head, and he was about to demand more information when Gaster raised his finger again. "One moment. Do you hear that?"

Very faint choir music was coming through the open windows. "Yeah, I know," Sans said impatiently. "When they get sick of talkin', they do that instead. It all sucks."

"Not necessarily," murmured the doctor. "This particular hymn includes a solo, and with the King in attendance, they'll use their best performer. Listen."

Sans didn't get it till the hymn faded to almost nothing and it seemed as if the song was over. He was thinking of his next question when a single voice rose through the stillness and his head turned of its own volition. His feet made him get up and cram one shoulder out the window to follow the sound, heedless of the floor creaking underfoot.

Sure enough, it was a lone woman singing. The words were indistinct, but the sound sent prickles running over his skull and down his spine; her high notes were perfect, and while he could barely hear the lower tones, they were somehow even better. When the last note died away, he wanted to jump out and yell for whoever it was to keep going.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gaster was leaning on the other window, arms folded on the sill, head propped up on a spare hand. "I've missed hearing her in the mornings."

Sans hurriedly scratched the corners of his sockets, which somehow felt itchy. "Yeah, I guess s'not bad for a human," he said, trying to sound careless, though he couldn't help adding, "Kinda wasted in a church."

The doctor chuckled again, stepping away from the windowsill. "An increasingly common opinion, as you are doubtless aware by now."

Before Sans could ask what the hell that meant, Gaster glanced meaningfully at the boss monster's face and hand. Sans followed his gaze and saw why: his phalanges were stained bright red. "Wha..." Had he hurt himself? Sans grabbed the corner of his sleeve and swiped at his eyes, pulling it away to reveal more streaks of red. "What the crap is this?"

Gaster was very quiet. Then he reached into his robe and produced a folded white square. "Here," he said. Sans looked at it blankly. "It's a handkerchief, my boy," the doctor explained. "For drying tears."

~

The walk back to her rooms after the service was more irritating than usual. Frisk was thirsty, her calf was beginning to cramp from walking at the four guards' pace, and there was no one to talk to—just like old times, she thought with a twinge of dismay. She was reconsidering the merits of Sans' magic when they reached the double doors and she could all but run inside.

"Greetings, my lady," said Dr. Serif, raising his head from a series of drawings scattered across the worktable. There were tiny words and numbers scribbled all over, and even at a glance, the notations were beyond her. "If you'll allow us a moment, we'll clear the table. Breakfast should be here any moment."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll be out as soon as I extricate myself." Dr. Serif gave his odd half-smile, while Sans didn't so much as look up.

Well, at least changing into a looser dress made her feel better, as did kicking off her slippers and enjoying the strange walking-in-pits feeling of removing heeled shoes. Technically, she knew she should keep her veil on, but the prospect made her want to eat the damn thing. It wasn't as if the royal sorcerer was going to tell on her, and she almost never wore it around Sans anymore—not that he cared either way.

...Good Lord. When was the last time she'd felt this crabby? He must be rubbing off on me, she thought wryly.

Dr. Serif had poured a tall glass of water for her. Frisk came out, seized it from his hand, and drank the whole thing at once, setting it down with a bang and a sigh. "Thank you very much, Doctor."

"I had a suspicion you wouldn't be allowed time to care for yourself after the service," he remarked. Sans was still looking at a sheet of paper, at least until the doctor plucked it out of his hand and set it on a stack of notes. "I hear something in the hall. Sans?"

The skeleton grumbled, but got up to open the doors as Frisk sat by the doctor. "It looks as though you've made some progress. In your opinion, are these ideas practiceable?"

"I believe so, yes," he replied. "Based on what Sans has told me, we could possibly convert some of our existing infrastructure for this purpose. We will need more detailed specifications, but I thank you for allowing me to borrow Sans and attain a starting point."

"And thank you for giving him a break," she said, drawing on all of her training to keep from sounding petulant.

It must not have worked, because the doctor sighed. "That was a very natural misunderstanding on your part, my lady. He and I had words while you were getting dressed, and it distracted him. I doubt that he genuinely wanted you gone. In fact, he's been checking the clock every ten minutes since you left."

Frisk felt herself flushing. "I didn't—"

"Watch out," said Sans, and as they sat back, the dishes flew off the trolley in a burst of red magic, settling neatly onto the table. "There. What's this about me 'n the clock?"

"Nothing whatsoever," the doctor said genially. "Her Eminence is back, by the way."

Sans glowered at him, and glanced at Frisk for the first time since she'd come in. "Yep. You can go now, Doc." He made a shooing gesture, then came back to the table, pulled over a random dish, and began shoveling the food in.

Dr. Serif looked ready to hit the skeleton upside the head. "You were marvelous, as always, Your Eminence," he said loudly. "It's been a long time since you performed at matins, hasn't it?"

Frisk paused mid-stab, rearranging her tomato slices into an angrier pattern. "You can hear the chapel from all the way up here?" Stab. "Would you like something to eat, Doctor?"

"Nothing for me, thank you. On a clear day with little wind, yes, the sound carries quite far."

The priestess couldn't help grimacing. "That's good to know." She got up for another drink. "I had to chat with His Majesty and Gaius for almost twenty minutes after the service. My throat is killing me," she said over her shoulder.

When Frisk turned around, Dr. Serif was not looking at her, but at Sans, who had slowly raised his head. "Hold on a sec," the skeleton said. He shifted to face her. "That was you?"

His obvious disbelief made her want to dunk her head in the water pitcher, and perhaps also throw it at him. "I...yes? It was my turn to take that solo," she said to her plate, and crammed a wad of egg into her mouth.

"Your turn, indeed." Dr. Serif raised his eyebrows at Sans. "Her Eminence is aggressively modest about her vocal talent. You won't hear her again until the Feast of All Souls in three days, and she will do her best to get out of it."

Frisk swallowed, coughed, and said sharply, "Doctor, please." What was he doing?

"Forgive me, my lady." He rested his head on his hand, dark eyes studying her. "Speaking of All Souls Day, I've discussed the matter with Sans in his capacity as your personal guard, but I also wanted to give you a direct word of caution. We may need to employ unorthodox methods to ensure your safety, as you will have an unavoidably public role in the ceremony. Will you agree to comply with whatever measures we may deem necessary?"

That sounded ominous, but Frisk had already been trying not to think of the upcoming holy day, or the dead assassin, or how the prospect of being murdered was no longer an abstract concept. "I'll leave it to you and Sans, Doctor. Thank you for your concern."

"Of course, Your Eminence. Now, with your permission, I'd like to briefly review what you've taught Sans thus far. St. Brigid's is unparalleled in its instructional quality, so I have no doubt as to your knowledge or capability. However—"

Sans banged his empty plate onto a tray, startling them both. "Thanks, Doc. Go away."

"Sans!" the priestess snapped. "What's gotten into you? Do I have to send you to your room?"

Dr. Serif raised his hands good-naturedly and got to his feet. "All right, you can have her to yourself again. But I would like to consult with both of you at least once every day. May I come here in the morning, or is the afternoon more convenient?"

"Either is fine now that I'm excused from most of the services," Frisk answered. She pinned Sans with a glare. "Do you have a preference?"

The skeleton grumble-shrugged. "Splendid," said Dr. Serif. "I will see you tomorrow morning after breakfast, then." He bowed slightly. "My lady."

Frisk rose to walk him out of the room and into the hall. To her surprise, Dr. Serif gestured for the guard to move away, and when the man was out of earshot, the royal sorcerer lowered his voice. "Forgive my asking, but when you spoke with the King, what did he say about Sans?"

The priestess crossed her arms at the waist, and uncrossed them. "He asked how Sans was behaving towards me. I told him I'm not in any danger, but I don't know if he believes it."

To her shock, the doctor laughed. "That was not what he meant, Your Eminence," he said. "I fully agree that Sans bears you no ill will. However, surely you have noticed that he is...we'll say, potentially unstable? I checked the potions you've recently made, and didn't sense his magic in any of them. Have you allowed him to infuse anything yet?"

At this point, Frisk couldn't even try to keep her emotions off her face. If nothing else, she thought bitterly, it'd save time.

"I see. Those who witnessed your initial encounter with him said you stopped him in his full attack without violence. I hate to put responsibility for his actions on your shoulders," the doctor continued, "but as you know, Sans is much too powerful to be allowed to lose control of himself again. There can be no peace between humans and monsters if your emissary destroys any human life or property while he is here, or if he evens frightens anyone too much."

"No, of course not." Frisk shifted her bare feet on the marble floor. "He's being difficult today, but as I said – or at least, I thought – we've been working together well enough. He's an excellent student, and he has a sense of humor. I'm certainly not afraid of him anymore."

"Hmm." The doctor was plainly skeptical. "You don't feel threatened by having such a large monster in your living space? Does he seem apprehensive about your barriers?"

"As a matter of fact, I trust him enough now to have taken down several of them. When I created one so that we could talk privately with the King, he handled it fairly well."

The doctor's eyes grew very wide. "You kept him inside a barrier, and he tolerated it?"

"I...told him it was all right, and I made a bad pun. It seemed to work."

For some reason, Dr. Serif muttered something curse-like under his breath, then said, "I beg your pardon, my lady, but that is extraordinary, especially considering he's been under your care for only a week. Monsters are absolutely terrified of barriers, no matter their size or strength, and he knows firsthand that he cannot break yours. Whatever you are doing to foster trust between you, by all means, continue to do so." He turned as if to go, and paused. "One more thing, Your Eminence. Has he told you how he became a boss monster? There should be none but their King and Queen."

Frisk shook her head. "I tried to ask about it, and he got upset."

"Indeed. Thank you very much for your time. I will see you tomorrow." He strode off down the hall, allowing the guard to return to his post.

Any hope of Sans behaving better with the doctor gone was dashed the moment she came back in. "How come ya don't like singin'?" The skeleton sounded almost accusing. "If I could do that, I'd never shut up."

"That's none of your business." The priestess busied herself collecting dirty dishes and loading them up.

Another cloud of red lifted the trays out of her hands and dumped them back on the trolley with an unholy clatter. The doors opened, the trolley rolled itself out to the hall, and the doors creaked shut. "There, all done. So does it take a lotta magic or somethin'? I noticed ya don't make as much noise around here now that there's not as many barriers ta keep up."

Noise? "Drop it, Sans. I'm not going to ask you again," she warned, coming to sit across from him.

Pause. Frisk could actually see him think about it and then decide to keep right on going. "I didn't think you were the shy type. Yer willin' t'stand up in front of a zillion people and tell 'em not to be scared of the big bad skeleton, you got me right where ya want me, and ya talk to th' most important guys in the kingdom like it's nothin', so how're—"

That did it. She was so furious that she had to fight the urge to throw a barrier in his face. Instead, she inhaled, stuck her thumb and forefinger in her mouth, and gave an ear-splitting whistle.

And that was how Frisk learned an interesting fact about skeletons: they didn't have ears, but when faced with a completely unexpected and shrill sound – not just being shouted at – they still instinctively tried to cover the sides of their head, and at least one of them also yelled, "What the fuckin' crap was that for?!"

"First, watch your language, and second, it was for being a giant hypocrite! I haven't made you tell me how you're a boss monster, and when I want you to stop asking me a personal question, I expect the same courtesy!"

"Are you seriously comparin' my life bein' ruined with yer stupid 'Wahh, I'm a perfect fairy-tale princess, don't listen to me'?"

"This is not a contest! I know what I've experienced and how I feel about it, and it has nothing to do with you!" She slammed her palms on the table, standing up so that she didn't have to keep craning her neck to look at him. "We may be familiar with one another by now, but that does not give you the right to say whatever you want to me! Do you understand?"

Sans was still rubbing his skull. "Not like it matters," he muttered. "Yer the boss, right?"

"Oh, please! Haven't you ever had a friend before, Sans? A real one? Have you ever learned to treat someone with basic respect?"

"Not a damn human!" The skeleton also sprang to his feet, towering over her with eyes aflame. "Excuse me if I hurt your widdle feewings askin' a stupid-ass question!"

"You hurt my feelings because you showed me that you don't care about them! Don't you dare blame this on my being human, Sans! You're wrong, and you damn well know it!"

He snarled, lowering his head until his jagged teeth and the blinding orange-red of his eyes were less than a foot from hers. The effect was terrifying, but Frisk was too angry to remember the doctor's warning about letting the boss monster lose control; the only thing that mattered was standing her ground. "Don't you give me that look!" He wanted to win by being bigger, did he? Frisk put one foot on her chair, stepped onto the table, and, as Sans blinked in confusion, reached down to jab a finger into his sternum. "What are you going to do? Bully me until I'm as afraid of you as every other human you've met? Think of another plan, because that's not going to work!"

The ferocious light went out like a candle. For just a moment, Sans looked as though a tree had sprouted in front of him full-grown and then fallen on his head. He stepped back, mumbled, "'Kay," and went into the bedroom, shutting the door.

Frisk stood in the middle of the table, her pulse racing, not sure whether to cry or step down and then cry. She swallowed several times, but it didn't help.

Damn him. The bedroom was an upset woman's native habitat, and he had stolen it. There was the couch, but it wasn't the same. Besides, even if she understood on a grown-up level that the assassin was gone, she was still afraid to open the office door without Sans there.

At a loss, Frisk sat on the edge of the table, letting her feet dangle as she surveyed her domain. The room had gotten even messier in the past week. If Sans had the power to put dishes away instantaneously, he'd have enough to put all these books and papers away for her, too. Maybe she could make him organize her proposals while he was at it.

Proposals. For the thousandth time, Frisk wondered if it was time to stop ignoring them and start making a list of men she might actually consider accepting. She hadn't told Sans how few positions in the Church were suitable for her current rank, or that the likeliest ones were all lifetime commitments, a fate more lonely and boring than death. She'd been so scared but so excited to become High Priestess, where she'd do so much good and be known and loved by so many people; no one had reminded her that being up on a pedestal meant being utterly alone, not to mention exposed to anyone below who wanted to push her off.

Maybe that was why she had imagined her resident boss monster being smitten with her, why she'd been so hurt by him trying to escape, and why she felt so awful now. Frisk knew he had no social skills whatsoever, and he'd probably thought he was complimenting her in some backhanded, childish fashion, but leave it to Sans to turn being "perfect" into an insult.

No, the choice between the Church and marriage wasn't much of a choice at all. She was very tired of her pedestal, and she wasn't going to trade it for one so high that she couldn't come down again. If she chose the right husband, she could do as much or more for people in need than she already was, and she wouldn't be doing it alone. Even if she and her future spouse were well-to-do and had busy schedules, she'd have company in the evenings, not to mention nights and mornings in bed, which there was no shame in looking forward to! Then there'd be children, a family of her own...

Frisk sighed, massaging her neck and turning it toward the window, then the door. For the briefest and most frustrated of moments, she contemplated sending the skeleton back to the Underground now, perhaps tomorrow morning. He'd learned enough and given the royal sorcerer enough information; surely she could get rid of him in good conscience, and he wouldn't have the chance to hurt her ag—

The child from her nightmares was sitting inches away from her on the edge of the table. It was smiling, eyes shining red, kitchen knife in hand and all its little teeth bared.

Every hair on Frisk's body stood straight up, and her breath came quick and shallow. She tried to push herself off the table, to yell at it to go away, but her muscles were locked in place. All she could do was watch as the child lifted the knife, pointing it straight at the bedroom door, eyes never leaving hers. The child slowly lowered the knife, turned the blade around in its hands, and held the handle out to her.

Frisk's hand twitched. A tiny part of her knew that if she tried, if she really wanted to, she could move enough to grab the knife. But...why?

Something bubbled up in the back of her mind, whispering that even a boss monster was no match for a determined human. She knew exactly what to do: shuffle into the room with her head down and her hands behind her back, creep in close to tell Sans how sorry she was, and bring him down in one swift crimson slash. It'd be so easy!

The child was still smiling, still holding out the knife. Frisk moved her hand, raising it slowly, and the child's grin somehow widened.

Frisk leaned forward. She reached up, and with every shred of determination she possessed, she turned her hand toward herself, jammed her fingers in her mouth, and whistled as hard as she could. The child only had time for one furious glare before it vanished.

The bedroom door banged open. "What the hell d'ya want now?" demanded the skeleton, stepping into the workroom. "I'm not a damn dog! If ya need something, just...oh, shit—" Sans dropped to one knee next to where she'd crumpled onto the floor, shaking, her hand pressed to her mouth. "Frisk! Hey!" He reached for her shoulder, thought better of it, and looked around, as if for help. "Come on, Frisk! Look, I'm sorry, a'right? I know, I shoulda listened to you! I'll shut up next time ya tell me, I swear! Just knock it off!"

Frisk shook her head, tried to speak, and couldn't suppress a sob. Sans considered her from a couple different angles, said, "Incoming," then carefully scooped her up and walked into the bedroom, setting her down on the edge of the bed and sitting on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said again, wincing as she turned her back to him and curled up with her face buried in the pillow. "'m sorry, okay? You were right. I wasn't thinkin' of how ya felt, just bein' a nosy prick. I really don't want ya to be scared of me. Ya don't hafta tell me anythin' if you don't want, I just..."

Something in his tone made her wipe one eye and raise her head far enough to look at him. He was staring at the bedpost. "'s not an excuse for how I acted, but..." Sans shrugged helplessly. "I really, really wish you liked ta sing."

Silence. Then, to his abject horror, Frisk clutched the pillow and began wailing incoherently into it, sobbing in earnest.

"Aw, fuck! I mean—Frisk—" The skeleton opened his mouth and shut it several times. He stood up, paced out of the room and back again, and sat down as the noise continued. "What'd I do now?!"

No answer. Sans tried to think of something, anything to make her stop. "Uh...can I get ya anything?" he asked lamely.

She quieted long enough to shake her head and kept right on crying. Sans scratched the back of his skull, glancing at the windows – still too small to jump out – and finally, against his better judgment, sat on the edge of the bed. "Hey. Ya know that explosion that killed all those people? Asriel, Chara, a bunch of humans, couple'a monsters?"

That got her attention. Frisk sat up, scrubbing her eyes on her sleeve. "What?" A protracted sniffle. "What about it?"

"That day, me 'n Papyrus came to the gala with Kris, and we were way at the back. For some reason, Kris took off into the crowd, an' I was smaller than Pap, so I went after the little bugger." Sans looked at his massive hand. "Next thing I knew, there was this big damn flash of light and I got knocked down. I don't know what happened after that—it hurt like hell, but I was thinkin' of Pap and wondering where Kris was, and then I woke up in the lab."

Frisk sniffled, but she was listening. Sans clicked his phalanges on the bedpost. "The best explanation Alphys and I came up with was that I was determined ta stay alive, but a monster's body can't handle too much determination. I mean, if we feel a lot of it, we literally melt like butter. Al's not sure if I held together because I absorbed little bits of human SOUL as they died, or if I somehow converted some of the ambient magic, or what. Nothin' really makes sense. It sure didn't happen to anyone else who was there. But me? I was on the way to becomin' my bee-yootiful new self." He gestured grandly, back still to her. "The end."

The priestess scooted closer, pillow tucked under one arm. "You said it ruined your life?"

"Hell yes, it did. I got too big to fit in my own damn house! I have to take a shortcut into the living room because I can't fit through the friggin' door!" Sans kicked at nothing. "The other monsters are scared of me 'cause I keep losin' my temper 'n I look scary as hell, Asgore treats me like I'm tryin' to take Toriel from 'im when all I wanna do is tell jokes with someone...oh, and ya know what?" He shifted around to nearly face her. "Remember what I said about monsters havin' kids with magic, and how it's always a pain in the butt?" She nodded, wiping her eyes again. "Well, lucky me, I'm too strong t'even try it. If I was a lady boss monster, I could handle someone else's magic and make a little Sans, no problem, but no. If I tried givin' anyone enough to get the job done, there's no guarantee I wouldn't overdo it and kill 'er." Shrug. "Boss monsters are supposed t'have kids with each other so they can transfer their life force and age naturally as the kid gets older. I'm just gonna live forever as a damn freak."

"You're not a freak. You're Sans." Frisk gave an unlovely snrk. "Thank you for telling me this, but you know you didn't have to."

"Yeah, I know." The skeleton turned around the rest of the way, crossing his legs on the bed. "I'm not tryin' to trade it for your pers'nal business, either."

She smiled a little, and his SOUL lifted a little higher. "My story's not nearly that interesting. My mother said something very cruel the first time I sang for her as a child, and no matter how many people since then have told me how wonderful I sound, there's no getting rid of that feeling that they're all wrong. That's all."

"Yikes. I wouldn't say it's 'all,' not if you were a kid an' you were trusting your own damn mom to not be an asshole. That crap really hurts. I shouldn'a said it was stupid."

"Agreed, but I accept your apology." Frisk sighed, tucking the pillow under her chin to rest her head on it. "I've been feeling sorry for myself because being High Priestess is so isolating, but at least I can get out of it. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Nope! I can't get hitched and stop bein' a boss monster. We've tried a bunch of different things, and it's irreversible. We can't exactly replicate the accident to make me a lady friend, either."

"No..." The priestess yawned. "No, I expect not. I'm sorry."

"Not yet fault. Not anyone's, so far as we know."

Frisk curled up on her side with a sigh, facing him this time, cuddling the pillow. "I'm glad we had this talk, but I suppose we should get to work soon."

Sans had never wanted to be a pillow so badly. "Isn't it Sunday? Why not take the day off? I vote for a nap and then a game of chess or something."

"Mm." The priestess frowned at a rip in the silken bedsheet, probably caused from his toe catching it. "You know how to play chess?"

"Nope. You can teach me."

Frisk chuckled. "It's a deal." She couldn't help yawning again. "All right, you win. Escort me to my office, please, and I'll get to work on that nap. It's been about a year since I had one."

The boss monster paused, and said, "I feel bad takin' this thing up when yer crashin' on the couch like a houseguest. You take it. There's a lotta floor space fer me out there."

The priestess looked over the huge expanse of mattress, remembering the child and the knife, wondering when she'd feel safe again. On impulse, she hopped over the foot of the bed, landing in front of a cedar chest under the windows and opening it to rummage through the blankets. "I'm fine," Sans informed her. "It takes bein' out in the snow for a while 'fore I get cold."

"It's not for you," Frisk said cheerfully. "Come with me for a moment."

Bemused, the boss monster followed her to the office and the couch. At her instruction, he held out his arms for her to fill up with cushions. Then it was back to the bedroom, where she made him place the cushions on the side of the bed away from the door, holding them up so she could throw a large quilt over them. "There we are! You, sir, are sleeping on the bed. I am sleeping in a pillow fort. There's no impropriety whatsoever."

Sans had so many objections that they all tried to get out his mouth at once. By the time he could say, "I don' think that'd hold up in court," Frisk had already disappeared into her fort.

The mattress was not only wide, but so plush that he could have jumped on the bed without disturbing her arrangement. The skeleton tapped the light off, then lay down in his usual spot near the middle of the bed. He couldn't stretch his arm on that side now, but otherwise, there was still plenty of room. When she sniffled again – in a residual kind of way – Sans remembered the handkerchief, and wished he hadn't used so much of it. It was her fault, having that kind of voice out of nowhere.

Silence settled over them, but it was a comfortable one. Sans closed his eyes, tried to think of something else to say, and decided not to bother: judging by her breathing, Frisk was already asleep.

[poweredbydietcoke]

Favorite books of 2020

This is normally a January or February thing...last year it was November, so May seems fitting in 2021. You can find the last few years here and here...

2020 book totals: 23 audio books 14 Kindle books 10 tree books

47 books total

I shifted a lot more of my reading this year to audiobooks, which I think is a combination of the baby (a lot of time that I could use my ears, but not my hands), more ranch work (got a nice set of ISOTunes bluetooth ear protection for running saws etc), and more solo travel time during the pandemic. I also read a lot more tree books, mostly as a result of some out-of-print titles and some baby-related gifts. And overall my reading dropped a bit, unsurprisingly.

[Reminder: these are all affiliate links, and it all goes to charity at the end of the year]

How to Have Your Second Child First: 100 Things That Would Have Been Good to Know--The First Time Around by Kerry Colburn and Rob Sorenson

When I told Bryan that we were expecting our first child, he insisted I read this book. It was fantastic, as far as parenting goes (targeted audience, obviously). But the basic message is chill out, it's going to be fine. Think about how many people do this multiple times. And all of the things you worry about for the first kid, like making it perfectly quiet for them to sleep aren't going to be possible for the second kid, so why don't you just treat the first kid the same way--it makes everybody more flexible. We've tried to put a lot of this to work with Cooper and at least so far is making our lives easier. No promises how he turns out yet. :)

Age of Ambition, Chasing Fortune in China by Evan Osnos

I’m pretty sure Scott Cannon recommended this to me a while back, I think after some of his time in China, and I really enjoyed it. I've been trying to read and understand a lot more about China these days for obvious reasons. I've started reading Sinocism by Bill Bishop. It's a lot, you have to skim it every day, or just disregard it some days, but it's got a lot of really interesting insight (at least to me) on how China is operating these days. At least I'm trying to build some sort of understanding because it feels as if it's going to be important at some point in our lives. The highlights of this book, for me, were probably starting to understand some of what are apparent contradictions in the dynamism of the entrepreneurial economy there combined with pretty aggressive state control. Sort of the way that the party is different from the state but isn't in many ways; it’s often the same thing “functionally,” at least as I understand it. The other interesting takeaway was the total aversion to a loss of control and the single overarching directive that seems to grip the party, which is no social unrest. I also read China’s Vision of Victory this year, but Age of Ambition was a better read. I’m currently working on Blockchain Chicken Farm, and while the title is better, Age of Ambition still comes out on top.

Expecting Better by Emily Oster

Love this book, and the second book by the same author, called Crib Sheet. This was given to us when we told some close friends that we were expecting and they said “Oh, this woman we worked with at University of Chicago (she's now at Cornell, I believe), wrote these books and they're very scientific, data-driven books on pregnancy,” which obviously appeal to both Lizzie and I. This one was great because it goes into the research and the studies on things like can you drink alcohol during pregnancy or not? What do you think about sort of deli meats vs sushi vs whatever in terms of how it's going to affect the baby? How much should you worry about different prenatal tests, which are the really important ones, which are the ones that have a lot of false positives, and so on. I highly, highly recommend this and in fact, have sent it to a number of friends who are now expecting kids. It really simplifies things in terms of what you need to worry about and not.

Honeybee Democracy by Thomas D. Seeley

I don't remember who recommended this, but I absolutely loved this book. It's a really fascinating (if pretty in-depth) overview of the science on honeybees. Obviously, part of this is appealing to me because Lizzie keeps honey bees here at the ranch. And we love their honey and love learning about them and seeing them in operation. But the thing that just blew me away about this book, in addition to just the detail on the explanations of how these things actually work, was how they did the study design. They would find a big offshore island that had no bees on it and actually go out and do these experiments in a “pristine” environment. Eg how did the bees decide where to set up their new hive? How did they lead or follow a swarm or anything else? And it was just brilliant...as an example, they figured out that bees like to establish hives of a certain volume, not too big, not too small. And so how do honeybees measure volume? It turns out that there are two measurements they frequently do: one is they walk around the circumference of the potential hive site, and two is they fly across it and kind of measure their flight time. And so somebody actually went to prove this and built a hive they had a “treadmill” on one wall, that they could speed up or slow down to change the perceived volume, and that did in fact change which hives were chosen by the bees. Really, really amazing book!

Educated by Tara Westover

Lizzie read this first and really loved it, and has been on my list for a little while. I finally read it and thought it was fascinating. This single story of a woman who's raised in, I think, Idaho in a very Mormon community. Fundamentalist and very conspiratorial/out there on the fringe family. And she ends up going to BYU and then studying in London and doing a bunch of stuff that kind of breaks the mold. But she talks about it as kind of an escape, and rationalizing/understanding how her parents shaped her and both the positives and negatives. One of the biggest things that was interesting to me was, and I've heard it in many ways, but this passage stuck with me: at some point, she made a little bit of money, maybe $1,000 in a single chunk rather than getting paid for a day of work. And she made the point that all of a sudden she'd never felt like that before, because she didn't have to worry minute to minute about where the money was and was going and whatever. Just an interesting reminder of the costs of all these things that many of us are lucky enough not to think about at that level. Year by year, sure, but day by day or minute by minute is a different thing.

Fire on the Mountain: The True Story of the South Canyon Fire by John N. Maclean

I think this one was recommended by Zuni, one of our neighbors. It was another post fire disaster investigation, this time for a fire in Colorado that ended up turning and claiming the lives of a bunch of Hot Shots and Smokejumpers. It was a really well researched book, very descriptive, pretty fast moving, not excruciatingly detailed, but a little bit overly detailed unless you understand this stuff, which I don't claim to. But worth reading if you live in a wildfire zone, as many of us do these days!

The Haywire Heart by Chris Case

Mark Gainey recommended this to me. It’s about how endurance athletes can develop heart conditions, from training so hard and bringing their hearts to such an unusual level in different ways, and the various arrhythmias that come from it. Also how blood pressure can be off because your heart gets so strong at pumping during anaerobic exercise, develops really strong muscles, and then your heart rate goes way too low when you’re resting/sleeping and then loses rhythm. Really interesting. I listened to it in an audio book, which wasn't quite the right format for it because you have to be really paying attention to some of the science. But it was fascinating and made me a little more thoughtful about paying attention to heart rate monitors as I get older.  

Twelve hours' sleep by 12 weeks old by Suzy Giordano

A couple of people recommended this to me, Rick Morrison and Ashley Carroll were the ones that I remembered. For us it was the canonical sleep training book. It was really interesting and really good, but I don't think it works for everybody (seemingly different things work for different people, especially per Emily Oster’s research). But this is how we ended up getting Cooper to sleep well (he was largely sleeping through the night by 8 weeks, but I think that was mostly him and not us). Most of it is simply structured feeding and making sure that you can extend the time between feedings so that they can sleep longer periods of time without being really hungry. There are a bunch of really easy summaries on the web of, and the book itself was pretty tedious. I listened to it on Audible on my bike, and the number of examples like “every four hours, eg, 8a, 12p, 4p, 8p” ... I can do the math, thanks. But the method was two pages and really good. Obviously, again, doesn't matter if you don't have an infant.

My heart is Africa by Scott Griffin

Dennis Pilarinos recommended this book about a Canadian Doctor who goes and flies through Africa in his Cessna 185 (and even more adventurously, he actually flies it *to* Africa from Canada and back). Really cool fun book, some crazy stories like the usual kind of bush plane drama. Only available in paperback. I did order it somewhere random, but it was totally worth reading. Super fast and fun blending aid to Africa with flying and totally worth it. Very, very quick read but great for pilots.

The Billion Dollar Spy by David Hoffman

Alex Yakubovich recommended this to me and as always, his book recommendations are fantastic. This one was about Oleg Tolkachev and his work with the CIA while the Cold War was still going on. And all this crazy interesting information he passed and why he did it. And it was fun. It was like a spy novel that was real and exciting, but not over the top James Bond style.

Flatland by Edward Abbott Abbott

This was actually recommended by Sonia Wong at Sequoia in an interview I read with her. It's really quick and interesting, basically a story about living in two dimensions and trying to understand three- and one-dimensional worlds. How do you think about dimensionality, represented by the rules of these different, theoretical societies, if you will, that live in one or two dimensions. It's hard to describe well, but it was a really fun, interesting book, a very quick read. Even fully understanding the math of N space it was still really entertaining. I don't know if it'd be a good or bad thing for a kid to read, probably pretty good for a mathematically inclined kid. Really interesting.

The Storm Before the Calm by George Friedman

I read a lot of his work through Geopolitical Futures. I find it really interesting, just as an intellectual pursuit of understanding how the world works and how countries interact on a geopolitical level. And I've always thought his analysis is pretty insightful. He's a Polish immigrant to the United States, and a huge “patriot” in the unfortunately anachronistic sense. He writes about the four cycles he sees in US politics (institutional and socioeconomic, most importantly). And his primary argument is that in the 2020s, they're all going to end at the same time. And usually, when one of them ends, there's a little bit of pain and dislocation in the US. Historically, the US grew stronger out of it. It can grow, or it can obviously implode and cause a revolution. He thinks it'll grow stronger, and he thinks it'll largely lead to a decentralization of political power because the United States and its organizations and institutions have gotten way too complex to run centrally. Interesting parallel here to China in terms of the complexity of that organization and country, that's 4x, 5x the size population wise.

[saveyourblood]

Prodigy | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: “I find it amusing that we’re all pretending to be normal when we could be insanely interesting instead.” – Atlas.

The one where you're a prodigy, so is he, and he's the only person alive who makes you feel normal.

x

Notes: IT TOOK ME 20 MINUTES FIGURING OUT HOW TO UPLOAD THAT GIF YALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT I- This is actually an idea I originally had for a screenplay (kind of a modern ‘Doogie Howser’ gender-swap thing), but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how well it would work as a Spencer Reid x Reader fic. So, if you like it, PLEASE, let me know, because otherwise, I'll probably just scrap this entire thing lol. 

Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: none I can think of. 

Song: Birthday - Gia Margaret

You were out shopping with your friends, like most normal teenagers did on the weekend. You and Idol hit up a few clothing outlets, dragging Jax along.

“Can’t we go somewhere we all like?” Jax whined.

Idol’s arms were already covered with bags. You, on the other hand, had two with only a few items.

Idol turned to Jax, a blank look on her face. “You mean something you like?”

He shrugged, crossing his arms.

She sighed. “Look, we’ve been over this: the first half, I get to do all of the girly things with Y/N. Then, you get to do all the nerdy stuff with her.”

“You guys divvy up the time you spend with me?” you asked, laughing to yourself.

“We have to!” Idol defended.

“You’re so busy with work, we go weeks without hanging out as a team,” Jax agreed. “Hanging out with Idol all the time is boring.”

Idol punched him in the arm.

“I’m sorry, guys, but believe me, I feel the same way,” you said. “Everything’s just been… crazy. Someone just quit, and we’ve been busier than usual. I’m lucky I got these two days in a row off.”

“Speaking of which…” Idol said, linking her arm with yours. “We need to find you a dress for homecoming.”

Jax groaned.

“How about I work on finding a date first,” you chuckled.

“No, no dates! We’re going as a group,” Idol scolded.

You were about to make a witty remark when someone called out.

“Help! We need help!” A frantic woman shouted.

You dropped your bags and started running.

Eventually, you found a bunch of people standing around in a circle. Some had their phones out, others looked around, like Superman would appear out of thin air. You were no Superman, but in some ways, to some people, you were a hero.

You made your way through the crowd, unafraid to shove people aside. Some people made noises or remarks, but mostly, they let you move past. Breathless, you mangled your way to the center of attention.

“Please, please,” a woman sobbed on a man’s chest. He was completely unconscious, laying flat on the food court floor.

“Everyone, back up!” you instructed. “Someone get an AED!”

You knelt beside the man, pressing two fingers to his neck. While you felt for a pulse, you also monitored his chest for breathing. Then, you looked up to his wife. “Please, ma’am, give me some space. I need to start compressions.”

Someone who looked like a family member pulled her aside. Using one hand to stabilize the other, you began pressing two inches deep in the center of his chest. Your movements were fast, and the power behind them came from your entire upper body.

“Who are you?” The wife asked between cries.

“Damn AED is taking too long,” you muttered under your breath.

You stood back, raising a fist about a foot above the man’s chest. Then, in a swift motion, you brought your fist downwards, striking him in the lower third of his sternum.

With a gasp and a cough, the man jolted back into consciousness like he was startled during a deep sleep. “What happened? Where am I?”

You laughed with glee. “You’re in the Pallor Heights Mall; your heart stopped. Clearly, it’s working now.”

A frightened employee stumbled through the crowd, clutching the AED like it was a lifeline.

“We don’t need that anymore,” you said casually. “But, if you could call an ambulance, that’d be great.”

“Who the hell is this girl?” someone in the back of the crowd said.

“She’s our best friend,” Idol said proudly, “the teenage MD.”

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

    “I want an ECG, CBC, and an angiogram done yesterday,” you said as the patient was rolled into the ER. “His heart needs to be monitored at all times.”

“Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” the head of ER, Dr. Cabello, asked.

“Hubert Riaz, 52-year-old male with no previous known heart conditions collapsed at the mall,” you explained.

Cabello pulled you aside. “And you were at the mall because…”

“...because it’s my day off?” you finished. “Look, Cabello, I’d love to chat, but there are some tests I should be running.”

“Actually, you should be at the mall, or at home,” he corrected. “You know why?”

“Because it’s my day off,” you grumbled.

“Go home, Y/N, before you have to stay,” he instructed, before following the paramedics as they rolled Mr. Riaz away.

Before you could do anything, Mrs. Riaz pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she cried before going to join her husband.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, but she was already gone. That didn’t stop you from smiling.

You looked up to find a familiar face. “Dad!” you called out, jogging to catch up with him. “What are you doing in the ER?”

“What are you doing in the hospital?” He frowned, looking at a chart.

Eli Abner — the best Cardiac surgeon on the East Coast, maybe the entire country. He also happened to be your father. In a weird way, you balanced each other out: he was famous in the world of medicine, you were famous in every other world. People didn’t stop him on the street to ask him about his high school and college career. You couldn’t say the same.

“I asked you first,” you said.

“I was called down for a consult, 50-something male collapsed in the mall,” he recalled. “Your turn.”

You couldn’t fight the grin on your face. “Guess who revived him?”

He raised his eyebrows. “AED?”

“Precordial Thump,” you corrected.

His face morphed back into a frown; it was his default expression. “Percussion Pacing isn’t recommended for out-of-hospital use.”

“How about: ‘Good job, Y/N! You saved a life today, Y/N!’” you said.

As if on cue, Idol and Jax entered the ER.

“Dr. Abner!” Jax called with a smile. She was of course referring to your father — you couldn’t remember the last time someone at the hospital called you that.

“Hello, Jax,” he said, formal as always. “Idol. It’s good to see you both.”

“Sir, could you please tell your wonderful daughter that she’s not supposed to be here on her days off?” Idol asked.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Eli repeated. “Go, enjoy your time off.”

    A few hours later, and you were confident your two best friends wished they left you at the hospital.

Rather than going back to the mall, you opted to just go home. Apparently, Jax and Idol weren’t bored of you yet, so they followed you upstairs to your room. Unfortunately for them, you saw this as the perfect opportunity to rant.

“What the fuck is wrong with those two?!” you shouted, pacing across your bedroom. “It’s like they wanted me to go away.”

“They want you to have a life outside of your job,” Idol said. She was laying on your bed, propping up her head with one arm. “Is that really such a crime, Y/N?”

“It’s like they don’t want me to be a doctor,” you corrected. “Cabello couldn’t wait to just swoop in and get the poor guy away from me. Not to mention, he didn’t even call me ‘doctor’ — he said ‘Y/N’, like I’m his kid. Oh, and don’t even get me started on my father!”

“I won’t,” Jax said, playing with a model skull that sat on your desk.

“He didn’t say anything good about what I did. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I saved a guy in a mall food court, and my he criticizes my method,” you continued, ignoring Jax’s remark. “God, what a dick! Both of them! Both of them are dicks.”

Idol sat up with a sigh. “You know what you have to do, right?”

“If you say ‘let it go’, I swear to god, I’ll kick you in the nuts.”

“You’re a doctor: you should know girls don’t have nuts. Oh, also: you’re a doctor!” She said. “And you’re 17. They feel threatened, Y/N. That’s why they don’t give you any credit! They’re amazing doctors, but they’ll never be amazing teen doctors. Not like you could be.”

“Alright, genius,” you said. “What do I do?”

“For being a prodigy, you can be really dumb sometimes,” Idol groaned. “You be amazing.”

“Wow, thanks for that, Idol,” you said sarcastically. “Thanks for enlightening me. I feel so much better.”

“You didn’t let me finish, bitch,” she said, standing up. “You have to be amazing, and you can’t be afraid to talk about it.”

“You want me to brag about my accomplishments?”

“You’re a good doctor, right?” She asked.

You nodded. “I like to think so, yeah.”

“Then make them know you know,” Idol said. “They only push you over because you let them. Don’t.”

You leaned over to look at Jax. “Do you know what the hell she’s talking about?”

“Treat others how you’d like to be treated,” he summarized. “When Cabello and your dad are being dicks, be dicks back.”

“Good advice. Thanks, Jax.”

“Wow, if only I had thought of that!” Idol said sarcastically before flopping into your bed in exasperation.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

    You flipped through a few records in your favorite Vinyl shop, The Rusty Spoon. They sold new and secondhand records, all of which you loved dearly. You mostly bought new ones, as your favorite artists were more modern, but you liked to look through and occasionally purchase the classics. You had yet to buy a damaged record, as the store provided a turntable at the register to try any second hand vinyls.

As you thumbed through the discounted albums, you found a cover that was an elegant shade of red. The top corners had intricate golden designs. A thin line of the same color stretched the width of the cover. You pulled it up from the rack to get a good look. An oil painting of a familiar face decorated the front. In a fine, cursive font read ‘The Best of Beethoven’. After a moment of consideration, you tucked it into the crook of your arm, which already held 3 records.

“You listen to Beethoven?” A gentle, curious voice asked from beside you.

You looked over quickly, not realizing someone was next to you. Your eyes trailed upwards to meet the gaze of a young man — he couldn’t be older than 25. His hair was straight and tucked behind his ears, which propped up the frames of his dark glasses. His jawline was square, and his body was scrawny. He had the strap of a bag across his chest, which was covered by a red sweater vest.

His eyes widened, and he took a step back, raising his hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he stuttered out. “My name’s Spencer. I’m sorry.”

You chuckled softly at the idea that he could come off as threatening in any way. You also laughed because he looked cute when he was frazzled.

“It’s okay,” you promised, then offered him your hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

He rubbed his hands on his pants nervously.

Without a second thought, you lowered your hand. “I get it — hands are kind of disgusting. It’s actually safer to kiss a stranger than shake their hand, ya know, considering the pathogens,” you said without thinking. You closed your eyes and laughed in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I actually said that.”

“That’s why I don’t shake hands, actually,” Spencer responded. “Most people don’t understand.”

“It’s a biology class you never forget,” you joked.

“Biology? You must be smart,” he remarked kindly. “What are you going to school for?”

“I want to be a doctor,” you replied after a moment. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t something you wanted to keep talking about, either. Once people learned you were a child prodigy, it was like they forgot how to speak. “What about you? Are you still going to school?”

“I have a doctorate in Mathematics,” he replied.

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow. You don’t look old enough to have a doctorate.”

“I was in an advanced program,” Spencer responded.

You knew a thing or two about that.

His eyes drifted to the albums in the crook of your arm. “You listen to Beethoven?” He repeated.

You chuckled, somewhat nervously. “Is that so unbelievable?”

“No! No, I uh, I think it’s great,” Spencer assured, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s a fantastic composer, one of history’s finest.”

You nodded. “I’m sure Für Elise will be on here, but I’ve heard good things about Symphony No. 9.”

Spencer smiled, revealing a set of straight, white teeth. Somehow, they made him look even more charming. “It ends with the chorus to Friedrich Schiller’s ‘An Die Freude’ poem.”

While having a photographic memory made you remember far more than the average person, sometimes, it felt like all the information in your head — useful and not — got muddled together. When it came to passive facts, it sometimes took you a moment to recall. But, when you did, your eyes lit up and you smiled uncontrollably.

“Ode to Joy!” you exclaimed in realization. “Wow, that’s so cool.”

Your phone vibrated in your pocket. You fished it out, glancing at the notification. You got a text from your father, reading ‘When will you be home?’.

“I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something?” Spencer asked genuinely.

You put your phone back in your pocket and smiled. “There’s a coffee shop down the street. Can I buy you a drink?”

Spencer smiled.

    Sitting in a coffee shop, laughing with a man you barely knew, sipping a latte that was impossible to make yourself… it was the closest you ever felt to being normal.

The two of you talked about everything and nothing. You asked Spencer if he lived in town, he said he was in New York on work. He asked if you had a job, you said you worked at a hospital in the city. He assumed you were an ER technician or a CNA, you didn’t deny. You knew you should feel guilty for lying to the poor guy, but in the grand scheme of the conversation, it didn’t seem to matter. You were able to talk to him freely and easily, and it wasn’t just about your degree or how you completed high school in the span of 2 months.

By the time you looked down at your watch, you realized hours had passed. A waitress had kindly swapped the two of you out for plain, black coffee, and she regularly made her rounds to refill your mugs.

“It’s already 3 o’clock,” you said in shock, looking at your watch. “I promised my friends I would meet them for dinner.”

“I should get going too,” Spencer agreed, somewhat sadly. “Work never does itself.”

You threw down a twenty dollar bill, knowing it was enough to cover the bill plus a tip. Still, Spencer reached for his wallet.

“You said you live in DC, right Spencer?” You asked.

He nodded.

“You’ll pay next time, then,” you said with a smile.

You weren’t sure what made you feel so bold all of a sudden, but clearly, it was working. Spencer grinned and looked down before nodding.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

    “Where were you?” Your father asked the moment you got through the door.

You slung your backpack onto the couch. He didn’t even bother to look up from his laptop as he spoke to you.

“I was out,” you replied simply. “Idol, Jax and I ate dinner together.”

“You said you’d be back from shopping at 3,” he retorted. He wore his glasses on the tip of his nose as he observed the screen sitting in his lap. Your father was by no means an ugly man, but the manner made him appear older.

You shrugged. “Plans change. Public transportation is unreliable on a good day.”

Your dad finally looked up for the first time in the conversation. He observed the gift bag in your hand. “What’s that?”

“A little something from Jax and Idol,” you replied. “They saw it and thought of me.”

“That’s nice of them,” he said before getting back to his work.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “really nice.”

“What’s that, dear?” Your father asked as you walked up the stairs.

“I said I’ll be in my room if you need me!” you lied.

Of course it was nice to get a gift from your best friends. However, it was even nicer to get one from your sole parent. Hell, you’d even accept some acknowledgment.

All you wanted on your 18th birthday was to be seen, and your dad couldn’t even seem to do that.

Once you closed the door to your bedroom, the tears began to flow. In anger, you picked up the ‘anatomically correct’ gummy bear figurine you got last year on your birthday. The clear case was obviously that of a gummy bear, but on the inside was a skeleton and colored organs. It was equally creepy as it was cute. You loved it.

But, in a moment of rage, you picked it up and threw it on the floor. The case popped open and the pieces split apart. The skeleton dismembered, the organs shifted from their place to the floor. You joined them there, curling up into a ball as you sobbed quietly.

You’d put the pieces back tomorrow. You’d do the same with yourself.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

    “Pediatrics wants you back on their floor,” Cabello remarked.

The two of you stood at the front desk, reviewing a few charts. Hospital staff, paramedics, and strangers swirled around you — there was never a dull moment at Carabine Memorial’s ER.

“Everyone wants me,” you said back, flipping to the next page.

Cabello was silent for a moment, which wasn’t his normal behavior. He always seemed to have a reply or a retort of some kind. You smirked in success. Maybe your friends’ advice could get you somewhere.

“Your Senior Resident thinks you haven’t picked a specialty yet,” Cabello continued.

“I’ve been in the Emergency Department for 2 years,” you replied, closing your binder and handing it off to a nurse. You finally looked at your superior. “I don’t want to be a surgeon, I want nothing to do with palliative care or cardio, and pediatrics isn’t my strong suit. The ER makes sense for me: it’s fast, reliant on instincts, and I get to see a little bit of everything.”

“But is Emergency work what you want to do, Y/N?” Cabello asked, leaning against the counter.

“Is it what you want me to do?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “Or are you trying to get rid of me, Jason?”

He moved back in shock. “It’s Dr. Cabello,” he corrected calmly.

You took a step forward. “It’s Dr. Abner.”

Very rarely, you were grateful for a swarm of people to come through the ambulance bay doors. In that moment, however, you were. And apparently, the universe picked up on that, because it wasn’t just paramedics that stormed in — several police officers came in with them.

“Where is the department manager?” One officer called.

Cabello approached, and you followed suit.

“I’m Dr. Cabello, the Director of the Emergency Department,” Cabello declared. “What do you need, officer?”

“We believe this boy — Joshua Parker — is the second victim of a serial offender,” the officer described in a low voice. “I can discuss details later, in private, but for now, I need you to know the basics.”

“Which are?”

He glanced around briefly, before staring at you.

“She can be here,” Cabello said, surprising both you and the officer. “Aside from me, Dr. Abner will be Joshua’s primary physician as long as he’s in this department.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to punish you or not. Regardless, you didn’t object.

“Joshua shows signs of serious trauma and PTSD,” the officer explained. “The only way we got him into the ambulance was by sedating him. Once he wakes up, odds are, he’ll become violent again. You should prepare your staff.”

Cabello nodded, before turning to you. “Go, make yourself useful,” he instructed, “but only use whoever you have to. Don’t smother the poor boy with unnecessary nurses or aids.”

You nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

    The police officer was absolutely correct: once Joshua woke up, it was almost impossible to do any work on him. He wouldn’t stop screaming, especially the words ‘let me out’, and whenever someone tried to touch him, he began to thrash around. Once another resident and a nurse managed to hold his arm down for an IV, he began biting at them. It was equally heartbreaking and scary.

After consulting with your senior Resident, you decided the only way to get any work done on Joshua was to sedate him for a second time. While it wasn’t necessarily good for him, neither was the violent behavior he exhibited when conscious. Sedation seemed like the lesser of two evils.

When Josh was unconscious, you and Cabello managed to work efficiently. You meticulously pulled at splinters buried in his skin, while Cabello dealt with several puncture wounds all over his body. Where his skin wasn’t red and blotchy, it appeared to be a faint purple color. The whites of his eyes had gone yellow and the muscles in his legs and arms were atrophied.

“Someone put this boy through hell,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Cabello snapped off his gloves, throwing them in the trashcan by the door. “I’m not assigning you any more patients this shift,” he said. “Joshua is your top priority.”

“Understood.”

Cabello nodded, then stepped out.

   Joshua was asleep for at least 3 hours after his second round of medication. You spent most of that time in his room, researching ways to help him once he woke up. Eventually, Cabello came in with a distraught couple, and without saying anything, you knew they were his parents. You decided to give them some space.

“A few agents from the FBI are here,” Cabello said as the two of you walked to the front desk. “They want to talk about Joshua’s condition.”

“I can handle it,” you assured.

“They’re just down the hall. You three can talk in the conference room.”

You stuck your hands in the pockets of your scrub top, walking down the hall with a sigh. Compared to the rest of the department, it was calm; hardly anyone brushed by you, and the steady buzz of noise turned into a faint chatter the farther you walked.

When you finally looked up, you stopped dead in your tracks.

The hair, the sweater vest, the glasses… you’d recognize him anywhere. When Spencer met your gaze, it was clear he remembered you too.

In that moment, you really wished he hadn’t.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

    Notes: Like what you read? Let me know! Feedback seriously keeps me inspired to write <3

Want to be tagged in future parts? Shoot me an ask!

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 13)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 5,200    

Section Content: fluff, flirting,angst, R-rated language

~~~~~

The first time he had caught Julie staring into his backyard, almost three months ago, Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” blared in his head. He watched her from his kitchen window, careful to lean out of view so she wouldn’t see him. She was pretty, highlighted in the morning sunshine. Not very tall or short, average height in a pair of flats. He spotted the curves, hiding under dress pants and a cardigan, begging to be seen.

And after a couple weeks of the spying by the hot little librarian, well that was enough to get him to do some digging. Through his research, he found a textbook case of an American female born in the late twentieth century. Giulia Louisa Cuore. Julie to everyone else besides her mom and dad. Born in December of 1981 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to parents who emigrated from Italy.

The little family moved to Wilmington, Delaware when she was a baby. A brother tagged along for the ride four years later. She went to a Catholic elementary school and an all-girls Catholic high school. Dean choked on the beer he was gulping when he’d read that. She was a chubby, awkward kid and teenager, complete with glasses and braces. But damn if she didn’t get better with age as Dean poured through the Internet trail. College followed, nothing spectacular to note, but solid grades. No sports or extracurricular activities to speak of. She got a stable job and then, some years later, she got a ring on it. She became Julie Felton and was married for ten years. The only anomaly, before the divorce, was the lack of kids.

Her life sounded so easy, simple, normal on paper. He knew, of course, nothing was that easy, simple, or normal. But, Julie’s story might have been catalogued in the Women’s Fiction or Romance section of a bookstore. The series Chuck had penned about Dean and Sam’s life was cross-catalogued in Mythology, Horror, Sci-Fi, and Theology.

So, he had decided early on he was going to close the book on Julie Felton. Enjoy her from afar on occasion when he could. Peek at a few pages. Let her slowly put her life back together again and see the story play out from the view of his own backyard. He didn’t know how long she’d stay anyway. The quick separation he’d read about from Steve Felton, a Communications Director at the biggest hospital in upstate Delaware, and her even quicker house purchase during it all, could mean anything. Maybe she was rash, quick to act, like him. Maybe she’d be married in six months, moved out, and he’d never see that pretty face again.

But something told him, from all that he’d learned, that she was methodical and thought long and hard about the consequences her actions created. When she made a decision, he felt she’d follow it through. Another reason he didn’t introduce himself. He knew, could tell, she wanted to meet him. And the more he saw of her, the more he wanted to meet her. Maybe see what normal was like again. But, he was all kinds of trouble. What did Bobby used to say? Ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.

And, then, when he knew the grass couldn’t wait to get mowed any longer, as Spring pushed the growth of his lawn into high gear, he strolled out to inspect it one morning and got ambushed by a sweet little Italian mother.

Now, not even two months later, after agreeing to mow a neighbor’s lawn, he was back at it. Staring at Julie and she was still none the wiser of his presence. The hospital machines beeped around her bed in the ICU room she’d been wheeled into a half hour ago. A nurse checked and noted the information on the screens.

Now who’s playing hide and seek, Jules?

“Giulia!” Brigida’s tiny frame stood in the doorway.

Another nurse appeared, flustered, behind her. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, we can only have one visitor in this room at a time.”

Dean stood up and walked over to Brigida. She snatched one of his large hands, her hazel eyes wide at the blood all over his shirt. “It’s okay.” He nodded at Brigida and then looked over to the nurse. “I’ll be outside.”

Dean could hear Julie’s mom call out to her again from where he stood in the hallway. From his vantage he saw Samuel and Wes standing in the waiting room at the far end of the corridor. He waved and trudged over to give them what little news he could. Their eyes bugged out even larger than Brigida’s at his appearance.

He knew exactly what was going on with Julie but couldn’t let on a damn thing. The only one who got an earful of the Jinn mythos, Clif notes version style, was Marty. Dean explained everything that had gone down in that afternoon. They used rope to create a tourniquet around Julie’s thigh to slow down the blood loss. Two squad cars and an ambulance showed up not long after. Dean watched the paramedics inspect Julie and move her onto a gurney. They loaded her with care into the back of the emergency vehicle. Marty made sure Dean went along for the ride. Red and blue lights flashed over the warehouse exterior wall and nearby field. They crossed paths with another ambulance on the way to the crime scene. That one would’ve been for Ina’s dead body.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Samuel asked, motioning to Dean’s shirt, after listening to the kidnapping tale.

“Oh, yeah. Not my blood. Or, Julie’s.” He wasn’t going to mention how much blood Julie had been drained of; Wes already looked queasy enough. “Thanks for bringing Brigida.”

“Of course.” Samuel stated. “So, she’s stable?”

“As stable as one can be when they’re unconscious.” Dean shrugged. He clocked a state trooper staring at him in the waiting room. The man in the head to toe khaki ensemble marched toward him in his brown boots. Marty told me I’d need to be prepared to go in for questioning as soon as things calmed down. “Listen, I’m probably going to have to head to the police station soon. Will you be able to stay?”

They nodded in unison. Dean turned at the tap on his shoulder. The trooper’s bushy mustache twitched as he spoke. “Dean Winchester?”

“That’d be me.”

“Officer Murray. Detective Martin Tullman wants me to escort you to the station for some routine questioning.”

There’s absolutely nothing routine about any of this. “Sure. But, I need to be able to get back here as soon as possible. Oh, and just one question for you.”

The officer tipped his hat and waited.

“Who’s driving me back to get my car?”

~~~~~

After the station and the ride back to get Baby, he had checked in with Wes and Samuel. They were still at the hospital with Brigida at almost midnight. There was no new news to report. Dean took the opportunity to race home and shower off the Jinn bits. He beat his record for the quickest clean and clothe and headed back.

When Dean arrived, he ordered Wes and Samuel to get themselves home. Brigida insisted that she would stay at the hospital all night, sleep in the waiting room, and that Dean should go home as well.

“There’s no way you’re staying here by yourself.” Dean shook his head. “Julie will kill me when she wakes up.”

Brigida offered a weary smile. They sat in the waiting room, now a lot less populated since visiting hours were over. A few other people and groups milled about like Brigida and Dean, hoping for some good news.

“Want me to get you something from the vending machine? I’m sure you haven’t eaten. Julie… she mentioned you’re on a lot of medication. The last thing she’d want is for you to get sick because you aren’t taking care of yourself with all this worry.”

“I took them. I can’t eat all that junk.” A wave of her hand dismissed the offer. “My sugar will go up. It’s already too high. I feel it.”

Dean frowned.

“You can take me back to Julie’s in a little while.” She clutched her purse to her chest. “I’ll get myself home in the morning for all my medicine and other things. Then, I’ll come back here.”

“Okay.” He knew better than to push any further. He clapped a hand on her forearm. “You just let me know when you’re ready to leave. And, I’ll take you back here in the morning.”

She tapped his hand on her arm. “I knew you were a good man.”

A tall, skinny man in grey jogging pants and a blue hoodie rushed up to Brigida. “How’s Julie?”

It took Dean a second to place him. He’d seen that face when he was snooping into Julie. But the pictures he’d seen of this man had a lot less wrinkles and a lot more hair.

“Steve?” Brigida’s face turned stern. “What are you doing here?”

“I got a call from the hospital a few hours ago, but I missed it. I’m still listed as an emergency contact.” Steve looked to Dean and then to his hand consoling Brigida. “How’s Julie?” he repeated.

Brigida choked back a ton of emotions, her face reddening.

Dean cleared his throat and spoke. “She’s unconscious. Doctor’s aren’t sure what’s wrong yet. They’ve run a bunch of tests. No brain trauma they can see.”

Steve scrunched his face up and snapped his head back. He looked like a disgruntled turtle. “Who are you?”

“Dean Winchester. I’m a neighbor of Julie’s.” He didn’t bother to offer his hand to shake.

“What happened?” Steve stared at Brigida again.

Dean rose and stepped in between Brigida and Steve. A small part of him took pride in the fact that he was taller than Julie’s ex. “Look, Steve. Brigida doesn’t have a whole lot in terms of details.” He lowered his voice. “I was the one that found Julie.”

Steve straightened his posture but still couldn’t make up much of the height difference. “What do you mean found her? Where?”

“You should probably reach out to a Detective Martin Tullman for the details. State Police. Troop 6. He may not be able to give them to you, though, being that you aren’t married to Julie anymore.”

The blue irises hid behind narrowing lids. “Who’d you say you were again?”

“Dean Winchester.”

Steve nodded his head. “Well, being that I’m the Communications Director at this hospital, I’m sure I can get all the information that I need.” He turned and headed for the nurses’ station.

“Just make sure it’s legal and you follow all that HIPPA crap,” Dean added, loud and clear, so everyone could hear. “Lawsuits are a bitch.”

Steve stopped his advance, cocked his head to Dean and Brigida, and faked a painful smile. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me apprised of Julie’s condition, Mom.” He stormed off.

Brigida scoffed and sniffled back some tears. “Mom. He hardly ever called me that when they were married.” She groaned at the sound of her knees creaking when she got up. “I’m going to go say good night to Giulia.”

“Brigida, I don’t think they’ll…”

Another hand wave. “Let them try and stop me. Coming?”

“I-I don’t…”

A hand wrapped in the crook of his elbow. “Then, just come along and get me down this hallway.” The tired nurse at the station acknowledged and watched them pass by with a smile. “Remind me to bring that one some food. She needs to eat more.” Brigida whispered to Dean. He chuckled.

Julie’s room was dark. A shaft of hallway light spilled onto the speckled tile floor. Their shadows broke into the room before they stepped inside. A painful ache stabbed Dean in the chest. Julie was awash in artificial blue light radiating from the machines monitoring her condition. A bunch of wires and tubes were strapped to her lifeless frame, including one intubating her.

Brigida leaned over the edge of her daughter’s hospital bed. Her hand stretched to reach Julie’s forehead. She closed her hands and started reciting something in Italian. Her fingers made small gestures of the cross over and over the skin while she continued the incantation. She rubbed the forehead gently when she was done. Something on Dean’s face must have required an explanation, because she stated, “In case she was cursed with Malocchio.”

“Cursed with what?”

“Evil eye. That was a prayer I learned when I was little to help get rid of it.”

Dean walked over to the other side of the bed. “You believe in curses, Brigida?”

Brigida nodded. “There’s a lot I believe in that Giulia thinks is crazy. Curses, ghosts, possession. I saw many things growing up in Italy that no one could explain.” She kissed her own fingers and then placed them on Julie’s forehead. “I just don’t want her in more pain than she already is. Can’t hurt.”

Dean smiled. “No. Can’t hurt.”

“I’m gonna go find out what kind of pasta that nurse likes and make sure she’ll be here tomorrow.” Brigida headed toward the exit. “Say goodnight.” She smiled and left Dean alone in the room with Julie.

Dean sighed and stared at Julie. “Don’t believe in the supernatural, huh? Gonna make for quite an awkward explanation about the family business.” He bent down, grabbed her hand, and whispered. “If you can hear me, Julie, I need you to listen. You’re dreaming right now. However great it is, it’s just a dream. And, you need to wake up. So, I’m going to do what I can on this side in the land of the living. But you can end it, too.” He swallowed. “If you kill yourself in the dream, you’ll wake up. But even more important… if you die any other way, not by your own hands… you won’t wake up. Ever again.” Dean pursed his lips together for a brief moment. “So, you need to be careful, okay? Until I can fix it or you beat me to it.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips against her forehead. Then, he said a silent prayer and kissed her forehead one more time. “Can’t hurt.”

~~~~~

“What are you up to, Winchester?” Julie called across the yard, over to Dean, her hands clutching the top of the chain link fence. The property divider prevented her from sprinting through the grass and into those arms of his.

He dropped a bucket by one of Baby’s dirty rims and headed to the shed. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” He smirked in her direction.

She squinted and identified some cleaning products peeking out of the top of the bucket. She was too damn far away from the man. It wasn’t fair. It’s not like she could hop a fence as easy as he could.

He emerged from the shed with a water hose wrapped in a neat bundle and draped over a shoulder. “Wanna help?”

Her internal temperature rose about ten degrees. The bright blue sunny day with not a cloud in the sky had little to do with it. That thin white, v-neck t-shirt clinging to Dean accounted for three degrees. The curve of his ass, filling out his faded jeans as he bent down to connect the house to the spigot ticked up another two degrees. But, it was the full-watt smile that he beamed up at her when he rose, along with a wipe of his wet hand along one denim clad ass cheek that made up the other five.

He rubbed his hands together and strolled over to meet her on the fence line. His cool to the touch, damp palm rested on her fingers. He kissed her lips, not caring who was looking, out in the open. But Julie felt like it was only him and her in the whole entire world, right then and there. He licked his lips when he was done. “She’s gotten all kinds of filthy.”

She grinned. “Still talking about the car?”

He nipped at her top lip. “Come on, babe.” He smirked. “I wanna get you all wet.”

“I don’t know.” She sighed, her inner walls clenching at Dean’s naughty gaze and innuendo. “Washing Baby? That’s quite a big step in our relationship. What if I scratch her?”

“I won’t let you handle any tools that can do any damage. Just a sudsy wet sponge.” He kissed her forehead. “Can’t hurt.”

“Alright.”

He walked backwards and swung out an arm. “Get on over here, then.”

Julie frowned and searched her yard. She lifted a finger, an idea forming. One wicker chair was pulled to the fence. She stepped onto it, chair legs shaking on the uneven ground, and took a deep breath. The top of the fence pressed into her torso. “I have no athletic coordination, you know.”

“Give yourself a good hop up and over. Let your feet hit the ground first and not your face.” He chuckled. His hands were on his hips, bow legs flared out, as he watched and waited in a superhero stance. All he needed was a cape.

“Okay. Here goes nothing.” Julie jumped.

~~~~~

Dean twirled her around from the stove and the pot of boiling pasta that garnered her attention. He held her in a tight vice grip and stared into her eyes. She held onto the wet, wooden spoon wedged between their bodies. His eyes shifted to a mossy green shade. “Gotcha.” He whispered.

“Never have truer words been spoken.” Julie smiled. She shimmied her hands up and out to rest her forearms atop broad shoulders. The spoon swayed behind his back. “How do you like your spaghetti? Al dente or mushy?”

“Whatever gives me more time to do this.” He bent down and opened her lips with a parting of his own. His tongue delved inside, tasting her, making her moan at the strength and thoroughness of that particular muscle. Hands splayed over her back, pushing her close.

She was panting and out of breath when he finally pulled his mouth away. His eyes widened at the scene behind her. “Shit!”

The overflow of bubbling water seared and sizzled against the side of the pot and into the burner’s flames. “Shit!” She repeated and rotated in his arms to turn off the gas. “You made me lose all track of time.” An attempt to calm the roaring water with a swish of the spoon did little. When the boil subsided, she fished out a long strand and bit into it. “Well, at least they’re not ruined.”

Dean’s hands rested on her hips, leaning into her backside. He contorted his tall frame and rested his chin on her right shoulder. “I’ll be the judge.” His jaw moved and pressed into her skin, unhinged, open, and waiting. She pulled out another bit of pasta and dangled it over his lips. He captured and slurped the entire length in a second. Droplets of pasta water hit her cheeks. “Yep, it’s good.”

A quick pull of potholders over her hands readied for dumping pasta into the colander. “You are not allowed in the kitchen when I’m cooking. Too much of a distraction.” She bumped her ass into his thighs. “Move.” She giggled.

He sighed and leaned back, stepping toward the counter. “Fine.” Water poured into the sink and drowned out his other comment.

“What?” she turned and asked.

“I said I couldn’t help it. I’m hungry.” He raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head and felt the pasta steam redden her face. “You’re always hungry.”

He shrugged, not putting up an argument. “You done?”

Julie’s mouth opened. She placed the empty pot back on the stove. Her potholder clad hands fisted and rested on her hips. “I’m sorry, am I not moving fast enough for you?”

“Nope.” He bent down and rushed her frame. Before she could react, he’d lifted her up and draped her over his shoulder.

She gasped, tossed the potholders and tried to hold onto his back. “Dean!”

He smacked her ass and chuckled. His arms wrapped over her legs. One hand wedged between her thighs and slipped up along the heat of her pulsing mound. He carried her out of the kitchen and headed for the living room. An unceremonious dump onto the couch cushions had her staring up at him. His eyes lit up and he smirked. “I said I was hungry.”

~~~~~

Dean chomped into the massive takeout burger. Leaning over his coffee table, he devoured his late lunch. Sam grimaced at him from the laptop screen sharing space on the table.

“That stuff is going to kill you, Dean.”

“We’ve been through this, Sammy. If bacon’s what kills me, I win.” A dribble of secret sauce trickled down his chin and onto the food wrappers protecting the tabletop. He spoke through the chews. “So, back to the antidote…”

Sam shook his head. “Yeah. I speedy shipped the stuff to you. According to my tracking number, you should get it tonight. Just mix it according to the directions I’ll email over. Right. Now.”

Dean’s computer dinged. He slurped his soda. “Injection through the heart? Really has to be through the heart?”

“It’s like a shot of adrenaline.”

Dean frowned after another mouthful of beef and bacon.

“Julie’s still the same?”

He sighed. A couple crumbs hit the screen.

“Did you really just spit your food at me?”

Dean swallowed and used his sleeve to wipe the laptop clean. “Shut up. Yes, she’s still the same. I left Brigida at the hospital about an hour ago. No improvement, but nothing worse either. The doctor says her heartbeat gets a bit high every once in a while and there’s some spike in brain activity. She’s responding to some sort of stimulation.” He remembered the wistful smile on Julie’s face that day.

“That’s good.” Sam chuckled. “Well, maybe when she wakes up, she’ll reevaluate what she finds attractive about you in the first place and come to her senses.” Sam cleared his throat. “It was a joke, Dean.”

“Not that far off, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Winchester curse.”

“Geez, not that again.”

“You think it’s a coincidence that this poor woman, with no previous supernatural experiences or run-ins, happens to get kidnapped by a Jinn just a couple months after meeting me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Activity has been sporadic at best.” Dean shook his head. “I put her in danger by breathing in her general direction.”

“Did you ever think that maybe she’s lucky?”

“Lucky?” Dean scoffed, mindful to direct his response away from Sam this time.

“She was lucky that you were around when this happened. You saved her, dude. No matter what, there was nothing intentional on your part to put her in danger.” Sam picked up his phone, blasting an alarm. “Look, I’ve got to get ready to head to class. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get the work done when the supplies make it to you. Call me if you need help with the instructions. I know reading’s not your specialty.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean threw him a sarcastic smile.

“Later.”

~~~~~

Baby’s passenger side door squeaked. Julie’s sandals met the gravel and the cool summer air tickled over her exposed arms. Her neck craned upward, staring into the midnight blue sky lit up like a Christmas tree.

Dean shut the driver’s side door in unison with Julie on the other end. She looked over and saw him gazing up as well. “Nice.” He commented.

“See? I wasn’t kidding about the view.”

“Well, it’s not quite as great as Kansas at night.” Even in the dark the night sky illuminated the lookout point, one of many along Skyline Drive. Their road trip originated in Delaware late that morning and was now winding through the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Dean wandered around Baby’s hood to stand in front of Julie. Arms wrapped around her waist.

“East coast girl, east coast views.” She looked around the field. “Weird, though. I’ve never been to this spot at night and had it all to ourselves. Not another car or person checking out the sky.”

Dean nodded. “I reserved it just for us. I know a guy.”

Julie smirked and stared at his sassy grin, inches from his delicious lips. “You didn’t even know where we were going.”

He shrugged, leaning closer. “So, family trips here every summer, huh?”

“From when I was about eight up until 15. Joey and I arguing in the back seat of Dad’s Mustang. Mom in the passenger seat, yelling at Dad every time he whacked Joey in the back of the head for being a pain in the ass. Getting a bucket of crispy, fried chicken right before we started up Skyline.”

Dean kissed her. She tasted the salt and spices. “I like that tradition.” He mumbled and smiled. “We get to make a new one.”

Julie was about to ask what he meant when he hoisted her up by her waist and sat her ass on Baby’s hood. “Whoa. Isn’t this sacrilegious?”

“Nah.” He jogged back over to the other side and hopped up, joining her. “I did this alot, on the road.” She laid back and tried to get her footing on the slippery steel, bending her knees. Baby was still nice and warm from the drive. He laid down and pulled her toward him with an arm over her shoulders, letting her lean into his side for support. She was getting used to thinking of him as her rock. “Now,” he nodded up, “That’s a view.”

She kept staring at him. “Yes, it is.”

He rubbed her shoulder and kissed her forehead. His voice turned serious. “You’ve got to come back to us, now, Jules.”

“What?”

“It’s time.” His eyes gazed into hers. “This is probably going to hurt like hell for a few seconds.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the tips of his fingers gliding along her cheek.

“Dean, I don’t under…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve got to.”

Something stabbed her in the heart and made her entire body seize for a second. Like a jackhammer, the pain vibrated everywhere and she ricocheted upright into a sitting position.

Her eyes jolted open and she gasped for air. Panic accompanied the pain and fear at whatever this thing was in her throat blocking her ability to breathe. Her fingers shot to her neck, coming into contact with a large tube instead of the expected skin. Investigating with touch, she realized it led up to her mouth. It was the thing lodged in her throat, along with smaller tubes in her nose. She tried to make sense of the white walls with the green horizontal stripe, the beeping, the monitors all around. And, then, she saw Dean.

Dean sprinted past the edge of her bed - the bed with rails like a crib and wires connected to various parts of her body - heading for the open doorway. “We need some help here! Now!” He bellowed.

Another rush of heat and pain knocked her onto her back. Blood pulsed wild and loud in her brain. Her eyes closed. She drifted away. Dean’s hand covered her forehead. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

“Kidnapped?” The question scraped out of Julie’s throat.

Dean watched her mind attempt to process the information. Tired and spent from the rude awakening hours earlier, Julie now sat upright in the hospital bed. The antidote had worked exactly as Sam said it would. Adrenaline straight to the heart. Brigida dashing out of the room with a weak bladder became Dean’s opportunity to administer his own version of health care.

He’d whispered and explained what he was about to do to an unconscious Julie. He apologized right before plunging the syringe into her chest cavity. The evidence got tossed into the hazardous waste receptacle as Julie sat straight up in bed, gasping and clawing at the intubation.

The three of them, Julie, Brigida, and Dean, now experienced a lull of medical activity and attention. Julie had gone through some more tests after waking and been wheeled away for an hour. The intubation had been removed. She had been rewired and looked less like a science experiment.

Brigida sat on Julie’s right. “No more talk about what happened. You need to try to eat something.”

Julie’s fingers ran over the bed sheets. Her brain is somewhere else.

Dean swayed from heel to toe, hands in his pockets, standing at the foot of the bed. “Want me to see if they can get you some more ice chips for that throat?”

Julie gazed up at Dean. But something was too far away and distant in her eyes for his liking. She shrugged.

“I’ll go and ask Natalie.” It was no surprise to Dean that Brigida was on a first name basis with the nurses on the floor after only a few days. She stood up and left the room, patting Dean on his elbow when she strolled past.

“Where did you find me?” Julie shifted in the bed and spoke again when they were alone. She winced and rested a hand on her chest. Right where I basically stabbed her.

“Brigida’s right, Julie. You probably don’t need to know all the details right…”

“Where?” She squeaked out the one word.

He sighed. “Abandoned warehouse.”

Her fingers pulled at the band at the base of her hairline and tugged the ponytail free. She scratched her scalp and fussed with her waves. “I was going to go to the gym for a quick workout that morning.” The slumped posture stiffened with a groan. An attempt was made to fix her hair, combing it back with shaking fingers. She relented and leaned back. Her eyes dropped to her lap as she continued. “I-I had talked to mom… before I left the house, I saw her at the edge of the driveway, walking up. I shouldn’t have offered to drive her to the shopping center. But, I was already going there, going to the gym...”

“Hey.” Dean hurried to her side. Hands gripped the bed rails. “Don’t go blaming yourself for anything that happened.” He bent down, tried to get his face in her line of sight. A shy flutter of lids hesitated, but her eyes eventually stared back. “None of this is your fault, Jules.”

Glazed eyes blinked away tears forming as Julie spoke. “Thank you…” her breath hitched, “for finding me.”

Dean’s hardened heart cracked at the lost and vulnerable quality in Julie’s voice. He offered an upturned palm. Her cold fingers crept into its hold. He squeezed, intent on warming her. “Kind of selfish on my part. We still have to finish that date, remember?”

The first smile he’d seen on her face in what felt like forever lined her lips. “Right now?”

He laughed. “I’ll give you some time to get right.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” She rasped out a laugh. “How could you not want this?”

“Who says I don’t?” He shook his head in appreciation. “And, that six pack of cigs a day voice is hella sexy.” Dean turned serious. “When I mean get right…”

She nodded. “I know.”

“However long it takes.” He swallowed. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Her lip twitched. “Promise?”

He smiled and squeezed her hand a little harder. “Promise.”

Part 14

Series Page

[pikapeppa]

Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Crew

Chapter 8 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3!!

In which we get to see both FenRynne and Piperford being a bunch of silly smitten idiots. 

As always, INCREDIBLE DIVINE ART BY @schoute!!!! 

Read here on AO3! ~9700 words.

- FENRIS -

Fenris pulled his shirt over his head, taking extra care not to jostle his wounded right shoulder as he did. The wound was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but the faster it healed, the more efficiently he could move when he was required to fight again. 

He sat on the wooden stool in his quarters and bent over the bucket of saltwater he’d hauled up from the ocean earlier this morning. Varric had assured him that they had enough fresh water on board for a quick wash, especially since they’d be docking in Llomerynn this afternoon, but Fenris didn’t like wasting fresh water for washing unless he was absolutely filthy.

He dipped a clean rag into the bucket of water. But before he could mop the grime from his neck and face, he paused and inspected the bandage that Hawke had wrapped around his wounded arm last night. 

The bandage was neatly tied and trimmed: just tight enough to stay in place but not too tight to cut off his circulation. It was tidy work; he’d give her that. 

Unnecessary, though. The stitches were probably not needed. The gash on his arm was long, but not particularly deep. But Fenris had barely had a moment to set foot on the Lady Luck before Hawke was suddenly beside him, wiping the blood off of his arm and dabbing the wound with Anders’s antiseptic solution. Before Fenris could even ask what she thought she was doing, she was chivvying him over to a bench and telling him she was going to stitch up his arm.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d allowed her to do it. Strange hands touching his skin, pulling thread through his flesh like he was some sort of… some sort of experiment: it was something he would never grow accustomed to, no matter how benign the intent. He’d only allowed Anders to treat his wounds on two occasions – once when he’d first joined the Lady Luck, and once for a stab wound to the side – and both occasions were more than enough examination by the ship’s doctor for his liking. 

Anders was no better than the doctors Fenris had known back in the Imperium. His methods of study were just as corrupt. And now, if Anders was going to be teaching medicine to Hawke…

The thought gave him an odd pang of disappointment. Fenris hadn’t been sure how Hawke would fit on the ship, but he certainly hadn’t imagined her becoming Anders’s apprentice. 

He studied his bandaged shoulder for a moment longer, then began to briskly wash his neck and torso with seawater. Perhaps she will be different as a doctor, he thought. She was already quite different from the other highborn humans he’d known, after all. She wasn’t arrogant, for one; in fact, she was quite self-deprecating, aside from her ostentatious flirts. Her sense of humour was unusually lewd for an upper-class maiden, and when instinct overrode manners, the curses that fell from her lips were as filthy as any common sailor. 

If anything about her bothered him, it was her bright-eyed naiveté. The delight she took in learning every new skill, and the enthusiasm she had for every new thing she saw… She seemed to think everything in the world was wonderful and interesting, including Fenris himself, and for some reason he wasn’t entirely certain of, this grated at his nerves. 

He wrung the cloth out in his bucket of water and wiped his face, then started cleaning his neck and shoulders. Just as he was finishing up, someone knocked on his door. 

He tensed. “Who is it?”

“It’s Rynne – er, Hawke!”

He tensed even further at the sound of her cheerful voice. He dropped the cloth in the bucket and hastily stood from his stool. “Don’t come in,” he barked.

She pushed the door open and poked her head inside. “Good morning, sunshine! What are you–” Her gaze fell on his bare chest, and her mouth dropped open. 

“I said don’t come in,” he hissed. He turned away from her and fumbled in the chest in the corner for a clean tunic. 

“Sorry!” she blurted. “Sorry sorry, I thought you said to come in, I just wanted to see if you could, er, teach me some, um…” 

She trailed off, and Fenris warily glanced at her. Naturally, she was staring at the vivid white tattoos on his skin. 

He hunched his shoulders and glared at her. “Quit gaping at me. You look like a fish out of water.” 

She snapped her mouth shut and pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I am so sorry,” she said, and then she burst out laughing. 

Fenris straightened and haphazardly shook out the sleeveless tunic he’d grabbed. “Entertained, are you? At least one of us is,” he snapped. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” she said. She was still giggling like a foolish child. “I’ve just – I’ve never seen a naked man before! Partly naked, that is, but still. I mean, well, I’ve seen my brother in a swimming costume, but it’s hardly the same, he’s my brother. But you – you’re –”

“I’m what?” Fenris demanded. He hauled the sleeveless tunic over his head, ignoring the pull of pain in his right shoulder as he did. “An elf? A slave?” A victim of experimentation at the hands of filthy Tevinter doctors? he thought with growing anger. 

“No, you idiot,” she blurted. “You’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.”

Fenris stopped and stared at her. Her face went completely red. “Oh bloody Maker’s balls,” she said, and she burst out laughing again and covered her face. 

It doesn’t mean anything, he told himself. Hawke flirted with everyone. She’d been charming the entire crew with her shameless flirtation. Her words meant nothing. 

Never mind that she, too, was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.

His ears were feeling distinctly warm. He tugged one ear, then folded his arms. “I hope there is a reason you came here, aside from disturbing me.” 

“Yes,” she wheezed. She delicately wiped a tear from the corner of one eye. “I was going to ask if you could start teaching me weapons today. You said you would, and I don’t need to meet Anders for another hour or so, so I was hoping...”

Her smile was hopeful and bright. Fenris shook his head in exasperation. “I can barely begin teaching you the basics of using a blade in a single hour.”

“It’s still something!” she said. She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. “Please, Fenris? I’ve been looking forward to learning how to fight. Especially after what you all went through on Estwatch…” Her smile faded into a grimace. “That was difficult to watch. Even from this far away on the ship.”

Fenris huffed and looked away. “That was a minor skirmish. Commonplace.”

“I know,” she said. “And I need to get used to it, like you said. And I would really love your help.”

He met her eye once more. Her expression was as open and earnest as ever, but she looked serious for once. 

He unfolded his arms. “All right,” he conceded. “We’ll go to the deck. I will show you some of the different weapons we have on hand. It will take some time to decide what combat style suits you best.” He gestured with his right arm for her to step out of his quarters.

Another tug of pain rippled from his wound. He tried not to show it, but Hawke’s eyes widened all the same. “Oh no, your arm,” she said. She stepped closer to him and reached for his arm. “How is it feeling–?”

He instinctively shirked away from her touch. She pulled her hand back and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to… I just wanted to check that it was all right.” She grimaced ruefully. “Actually, that’s the first thing I should have done. Anders will scold me. Is it–”

“It’s fine,” he said brusquely. “There has been no further bleeding, and it’s not hot to the touch. It is fine.”

She still looked worried. “Maybe you should take a few days before we do this weapons training lark, then,” she said. “Take it easy, give the wound some time to heal.”

He shook his head and ushered her out the door. “I have fought with worse wounds than this, in worse places. Let’s carry on.” He led her toward one of the racks of practice weapons near the bow, then slowed to a stop and began to consider the weapons in their arsenal. 

A lighter blade, he thought. Hawke was slightly shorter than Piper and almost as petite, so a rapier or an épée like Piper’s would probably be best.

“How about showing me how to use this?” she said. 

He looked at her. She was holding out the dagger that Fenris had given her on her first day on this ship. 

“Ah. A fair point,” he said. He’d given it to her thinking she should use it to defend herself in case the Lady Luck was boarded, but he’d never actually shown her how to use it. 

He took the dagger from her. “Short blades such as this can be used to stab or to slash. Many blades can be used for both. When we have time, l will show you how to recognize the primary use of a given blade.” He held up the dagger he’d given her. “This one is mainly for stabbing and parrying – for turning away an enemy’s blade,” he explained, indicating the narrow blade and fine point. “But it is double-edged. You could use it to slash or cut if you were hard-pressed.”

Hawke didn’t reply. Fenris frowned at her. “Do you understand?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “How do you know all this?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean – well, you clearly know what you’re doing.” She nodded to the rack of weapons. “You know how to use all of these, right?”

“That is correct,” he said slowly.

She blinked up at him once more. “Do all pirates know how to use all the weapons?”

“Of course not,” he said. “Most people have a preferred weapon. Sera has her bow, Varric prefers the crossbow, Piper has her épée…”

“But you’ve mastered all of them,” Hawke said. 

Oh. Now he realized what she was getting at. He folded his arms and gave her a flat look. “You want to know how a mere slave is competent enough with weapons to become the master-at-arms.” 

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like–!” She broke off and shot him an apologetic look. “Is it a terribly rude question to ask?”

He eyed her with some irritation, then sighed and unfolded his arms. “It is not an unreasonable question. I was a bodyguard in Tevinter for many years. I was forced to learn every type of weapon. My former master wanted me to be… impressive.” He looked away from her and idly flicked the dagger’s edge. He’d hated being Danarius’s bodyguard, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been the worst of his duties. That dubious honour was reserved for the lyrium mines.

Hawke hadn’t asked about that, though. And Fenris wasn’t going to volunteer that information himself. Even if she did ask, he probably wouldn’t tell her. If he hadn’t told Piper or Varric what he was forced to do at the mines despite knowing them for a year, he wasn’t very well going to tell Hawke. 

He glanced at her, then frowned at her sympathetic expression. “I don’t need your pity,” he said bluntly. 

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to, er, pity you. I was just thinking that, um. Well, it’s awful that you had to learn to do this,” she said, and she waved vaguely at the weapons. “But at least it’s come in handy. You’re the master-at-arms now – one of the most important people on this ship. It was shitty, what you had to do, but you’ve used it to your advantage. That’s good, right?”

He huffed. That was such a sunny spin to put on a terrible circumstance. “Yes, I did use it to my advantage,” he said. He idly ran his finger along the edge of the blade. “My weapons prowess was very handy when I killed my former master.” 

Her coppery eyes widened. “You killed your former master?” she said. 

He nodded. He flicked the edge of the dagger once more, then finally looked her in the face. 

“Good,” she said. 

He studied her serious expression. She wasn’t wrong; it was good that Danarius was dead. It was one less monster in the world who abused his slaves and handed them over to the horrors of experimental medicine. And yet, Danarius’s death hadn’t brought the vindication that Fenris had always hoped for. 

Fenris was free. He was able to go where he wanted and to do what he liked. He’d been travelling with Piper’s crew for a year or so now, and nothing truly untoward had happened. Yet he still felt every day like he was waiting for the headman’s axe to fall.

He licked his lips, then held the dagger out to Hawke. “Hold it like this. Thumb over the fingers, never under. Keep the crosspiece snug to your hand.”

She did as she was told, and Fenris nodded. “This is called a forward grip. You can hold the dagger the other way as well, with the blade facing down. But we will focus on this for now.” 

She nodded and looked expectantly at him. “All right. Now what?” 

“Now I will show you the vulnerable points on the body,” he said. “If you are attacked, these are the areas you should aim to strike on your enemy if you are given a choice. If you’re desperate, then…” He shrugged. “Slash and stab wherever you must. But strategic strikes may help you conserve your energy.”

She nodded again. “Understood.”

He took a step closer to her and touched a spot just below the angle of her jaw, then ran his finger carefully in an oblique angle along her neck. “The veins in the neck here feed blood to your brain,” he said. “Stab a man here, and you will give him a quick death.” With his index finger, he drew a line along the front of her throat. “You can slash here and open the windpipe. But death will be slower and less certain. A man can recover from this wound if he is fortunate.”

She swallowed hard. Fenris watched the movement of her throat before lifting his gaze to her face. 

Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were slightly pink. He frowned. “Don’t tell me this talk of death is bothering you.”

“No, no, not at all!” she said. She swallowed again. “Um, carry on. Keep, er, teaching me.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but pushed on regardless. He pointed to the left side of her chest. “The heart is here, as you know. An obvious vulnerable point, but difficult to hit through the ribs.” He lightly pressed his fingers to the base of her ribs. “Better to try coming in low and stabbing up beneath the ribs, here, in the hopes of striking a lung. Or simply focus on the gut, which is largely defenseless.” He quickly ran his fingers along the flat span of her belly. “The larger the wound you deal, the better. You won’t kill someone quickly this way, but you will wound them painfully. It may give you time to escape.”  

She didn’t reply. Fenris looked at her once more. 

She was nibbling her lush lower lip, and her eyes were closed. Fenris scowled at her. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yes,” she breathed. 

Suddenly he realized what was happening. He folded his arms. “Hawke, are you somehow finding this titillating?” he said flatly. 

She opened her eyes, and with a jolt, Fenris recognized the particular brand of heat in her bronze gaze before she buried her face in her hands. “Argh. I know, I’m so embarrassed,” she said plaintively. “It’s just – you were half-naked, and now you’re touching me, and it’s–”

“It wasn’t my intention to be half-naked,” he said defensively. His traitorous ears were going hot, matching the traitorous heat that was taking root low in his belly. “You burst into my quarters uninvited. And I would train anyone this way.”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault!” she said. “I’m just trying to explain my, um, my… It’s just… you with your fingers on my – and I haven’t – M-maker’s balls.” She swallowed hard and fanned herself. “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of ice water. Or perhaps to throw myself off the edge of the ship. Are there sharks in this water? They could eat me and put out of my misery.” She laughed nervously and moved toward the edge of the ship. 

Fenris looked away from her and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He’d predicted that training Hawke in combat would be difficult, but he hadn’t anticipated this being the difficulty. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure why he was even seeing this as a difficulty at all. So what if Hawke was inappropriately stimulated by his training techniques? It didn’t change the fact that she needed to learn to fight. When she was eventually caught in a fight, she would need to ignore her own panic in order to defeat her opponent. So perhaps her, er, arousal was a good thing. A good practice distraction, if you will. 

If he was really being truthful, the problem wasn’t Hawke. The problem was Fenris himself. After all, Hawke wasn’t the only one whose reaction to all of this was inappropriate. 

He took a deep breath and cursed the heat thrumming beneath his own skin. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He didn’t want to think about the husky sound of her voice or the silken warmth of her neck beneath the tips of his fingers. He didn’t want to admire the way she embraced every single experience with open arms despite having the most sheltered life that Fenris could imagine. 

He didn’t want to want her at all. A lowly elven pirate desiring a highborn human? It was completely irrational. Far too much to risk, given that there was already a price on his head in Kirkwall for his connection to Piper. Not that he would risk it anyway, since Hawke’s interest in him extended no further than her wide-eyed interest in, well, everything.

“Fenris! Fenris, look!” 

Her sunny voice was pitched high with excitement. He turned to look at her, and she threw him a brilliant grin and beckoned him over to the starboard taffrail.

He scowled. “We should continue training,” he complained. 

“I know, I know, but – quickly, quick, look!” She pointed at the water. 

He wilted in exasperation, then trudged over to the taffrail to join her. “What is it?” he grunted. 

She was avidly watching the rippling expanse of the ocean. “Wait for it,” she breathed. “I swear I saw…” She gasped and pointed frantically at the ocean. “There!” 

He peered into the water, then folded his arms. “It’s a dolphin.”

“I know!” she squealed. “Isn’t it incredible? They’re so much smaller than I imagined! I mean, I suppose we are quite high up on the ship here, but they still seem rather small. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s – I – oh, isn’t this marvelous?” 

Hawke beamed at him, and he eyed her apprehensively until he realized why she was so thrilled. She’d never seen a dolphin before. Of course she hadn’t, having lived her entire life in Hightown. 

He relaxed slightly and rested his palms on the taffrail. “They are very commonplace here. Even more so at the mouth of the Rialto Bay,” he told her. “This will not be the last time you see them.”

“Really?” she said eagerly. “Can we get closer to them? On the rowboat, perhaps?”

“Yes,” he said. “When we’re rowing into the Rialto Bay, the dolphins often swim alongside the boats.”

Her face was completely lit up with excitement. Kaffas, she was far too excited about this. And far too beautiful. 

He swallowed and jerked his chin at the water. “There is more than one now.”

She whipped around to look, then grabbed his bicep and gasped. “Maker’s balls, there’s a whole pod of them!” She laughed. “My father would be thrilled if he could see this.”

Her fingers were firm and warm on his arm. Strange hands on his skin – he didn’t like it. He should tell her to unhand him. 

“Your father?” he said instead.

She nodded. Her hand was still on his arm, and her happy gaze was still on the pod of dolphins. “He’s a naturalist,” she said. “He specializes in ocean life. Mostly plant life, mind you, but he’s very fond of the animals as well.”

Fenris regarded her with some surprise. A naturalist was not a very high-status position, at least in Tevinter, though the pay could be rather good.

“Is your father is well-known in the field?” he asked. 

“He’s an associate professor at the University of Orlais,” she said absently. Most of her attention was still on the sea. “He heads up their lengthier expeditions. We last saw him... oh, some six months ago when his ship docked in Kirkwall?” She finally released Fenris’s arm and leaned her elbows on the taffrail. “Well-paid he may be, but having an absent naturalist for a father doesn’t gain you very much social capital in Kirkwall high society, let me tell you. That’s where yours truly came in. Rynne Hawke, the Belle of Kirkwall, swooping in with all her charms to save the day.” She huffed ironically. “Guess my mother will have to rely on Carver to make her look good, now that I’m gone. She’s rather shit out of luck with that, unfortunately. My baby brother’s about as charming as an old leather boot.” 

Fenris frowned thoughtfully. Hawke was smiling still, but her smile was softer now, and there was a certain wistful tilt to her eyebrows. 

He leaned back against the taffrail and folded his arms. “Do you regret it? Leaving Kirkwall?” 

She laughed. “No. Not at all. I definitely don’t regret getting away from my mother, that’s for certain.” 

Fenris quietly studied her lovely profile. Her gaze remained on the ocean as she continued to talk. “My brother, on the other hand…” She twisted her lips and sighed. “We don’t really get along. But, well… perhaps I’ll see him around. He is with the navy, after all.”

“And your father?” Fenris asked. 

She smiled hopefully. “Maybe we’ll run into him during our adventures! He’s constantly travelling himself.” Her smile became a bit rueful. “If not, well... I’ve gotten rather used to his absence, truth be told.”

Fortunate for you, Fenris thought with a hint of bitterness. Varania’s face crossed his mind: her dimpled smile and her big green eyes that matched his own. He had no idea what had become of his sister after she’d convinced that merchant from Qarinus to buy her from Danarius and take her away.

He leaned into the taffrail and didn’t speak. Hawke gave him a tiny half-smile, then looked out at the sea once more. “You know who I really miss, though? My sister Bethany.” She laughed softly. “She’d be horrified if she saw me now. She was the proper one – the truly proper one. But I also think she would find it a bit funny to see me here.” She smiled up at him. “We used to read stories of mermaids and sea dragons and brave sailors. She wanted to be a mermaid, and I wanted to be a sea dragon. Neither of us wanted to be boring old sailors, but look at me now.” She laughed again. 

Fenris smiled faintly. Of course Hawke would want to be a sea dragon rather than a mermaid. 

“Is Bethany in Kirkwall with your mother, too?” he asked. 

Hawke shook her head. “She died three years ago. Scarlet fever.” 

He raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t known. “I’m… sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s fine, though. It was some time ago.” She looked at the sea once more, and they stood in silence for a moment. 

Then she shot him a tiny smile. “I don’t suppose…” She trailed off and scratched her ear. “Do you remember when we met in the market for the first time and I bought that necklace?” 

“Yes,” he said cautiously.

She nibbled the inside of her cheek before speaking again. “I, um, gave you my choker to hold. A red ribbon choker. I forgot to get it back from you before Cullen made me go home. It, er…” She swallowed hard. “It was my sister’s favourite hair ribbon. I don’t… I don’t suppose you still have it?”

Fenris stared at her. It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, to say he didn’t know what she spoke of or that he’d thrown it away or some other excuse. But her eyes were so wide and hopeful, and her sister was dead…

He gritted his teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the satin ribbon, then silently handed it to her.

Her jaw dropped. She carefully took the ribbon from his hand. “You kept it,” she said softly. 

He shrugged and folded his arms. “I didn’t keep it. It has... remained in my pocket.”

She arched an eyebrow. “For two months?” 

He scowled and looked away. She chuckled and squeezed his wrist. “I’m just teasing you. Honestly, I’m so pleased you still had it. You know I was sort of imagining it travelling around with you?” She slowly wound the length of satin around her palm as she spoke. “I figured if I wasn’t allowed to leave Kirkwall, at least something of mine could escape. I thought to myself, ‘Fenris and the satin ribbon, going off on adventures across the Waking Sea and beyond!’” She chuckled again. 

He scoffed. “It has hardly been on adventures. It’s been forgotten in my pocket the entire time.” 

“Well then, it should start to see some excitement, shouldn’t it?” Before Fenris could reply, she started wrapping the ribbon around his wrist. 

He recoiled slightly. “What are you–”

“Wait, wait!” She deftly tied the ribbon in a loose bow, then released his wrist and smiled at him. “There. One ribbon bracelet, ready to witness some pirating adventures. Just like yours truly.” She curtsied playfully to him. 

He scowled at his wrist, then held his hand out to her. “You should take it back. It belonged to your sister.”

She shook her head. “It’s yours now. It’s been with you for months already.” She eyed his wrist approvingly. “Besides, it looks lovely with your skin. I’m far too pale. Mother always said red  wasn’t a good colour on me.”

He frowned more deeply as he studied the ribbon on his wrist. Then Hawke suddenly gasped and straightened up. “Oh shit. I’m late to meet Anders!” She ran a hand through her messy short hair and smiled at him. “Thank you for the lesson, Fenris. And sorry about the, um.” She bit her lip, and her cheeks started to flush. She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m, um. I’ll behave better next time, I promise!” She grinned and squeezed his arm, then ran off toward the infirmary.

Fenris watched as she ran away, then blew out a breath and leaned his elbows on the taffrail once more. One single hour in Hawke’s presence, and it felt like his brain and his patience had been stretched to their limits. 

In an hour’s worth of time, she’d waltzed into his quarters uninvited and stared at his cursed tattoos, asked him nosy questions about his past, gotten aroused while he was trying to teach her, then completely diverted the lesson to stare at a bunch of common dolphins instead. 

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. That’s exactly what Hawke was: frustrating. She was far too talkative, always asking him questions and making her blasted cheerful comments and asking him to teach her things. Always batting her eyelashes at him and touching him – running those damned slender fingers of hers over his arm and tying her damned red ribbon around his wrist… 

Fasta vass. He closed his eyes in exhaustion, but it didn’t help. With his eyes closed, he could only picture her that much more clearly: her pearly teeth nipping her raspberry-red lower lip, and that look in her eyes – that undisguised smolder of heat that he hadn’t expected to see in her innocent bronze eyes…  

An unwanted flush of heat suffused his belly again, and he shifted uncomfortably before pushing away from the taffrail. He strode over to the rack of practice weapons and selected a blunted sabre, then began practicing his drills. 

Hawke was… confusing. Being around her was confusing. And there was one good way that Fenris could deal with the confusion.

He would avoid her as much as possible.

- CULLEN -

The morning after the escape from Estwatch, Cullen found himself standing unobtrusively near the entrance to the officer’s quarters and watching the morning duties on the Lady Luck. 

Piper’s ship was buzzing with activity. The swabbies had just finished their morning’s work, and sunlight glinted off of the water lingering in the crevices on the deck. More than a dozen men were handling the rigging, tugging and tying off the lines with the smooth efficiency of a familiar team. Another dozen men were running sword drills on the main deck, and Fenris seemed to be teaching a wide-eyed Lady Rynne how to handle a dagger. A handful of other crew members were repairing a tear in a sail, and the rest appeared to be enjoying their morning meals while cleaning and oiling their weapons and the other equipment. 

Cullen inhaled deeply from the teacup in his hands before taking an appreciative sip. The moment he’d stepped out of Piper’s quarters this morning, a petite Dalish woman wearing an apron had skipped over to him and thrust a cup of tea into his hands. He’d barely had time to stammer out a ‘thank you’ for the luxurious beverage before she’d scampered away saying something about making sure the bread didn’t burn. 

Cullen swallowed the fortifying tea and watched the ship’s activity for a moment longer. Every member of Piper’s crew knew their role and seemed to be carrying out their duties diligently. There was none of the lazing about or the drunken fighting that pirates were known for. He’d heard the crew making ribald jokes, it was true, but none that Cullen couldn’t imagine Piper herself making. 

In truth, the Lady Luck was run with all the efficiency of any navy ship, and Cullen had no qualms about admitting that he was impressed. He’d known all along that Piper was the captain of this ship, but knowing it was different from seeing it in action. Furthermore, Piper was so free-spirited and loose, almost like the mercurial wind come to life in the shape of a gamine silver-haired elf. She was mischievous and jocular and bold, and Cullen could admit to finding it difficult at times to merge the carefree swashbuckling adventurer with his own idea of what a captain should be: hard discipline and command.

But here was the proof of her captaincy, before his very eyes. If the brisk and efficient activity he was observing was anything to go by, Captain Piper Lavellan ran a very tight ship indeed. 

Interestingly, despite the navy-like efficiency, the Lady Luck felt different than a navy ship. It was buzzing with activity, but Cullen felt none of the usual tension that went along with being on a busy ship. The crew moved around the deck with purpose but no rush, and the fighters practicing their drills were smiling and teasing each other in a way that Cullen wasn’t used to seeing in the barracks. The men cleaning their weapons over on the forecastle were laughing and chatting as they worked, and it all seemed very… comfortable. 

Comfortable. Cullen was surprised the word had even come to his mind. Comfort was not something he had ever associated with being on any navy ship, not even when he was a youth. 

Especially not when I was a youth, he amended. The thought of the cramped crew quarters on the HMS Kinloch still made his skin crawl. The creeping feeling that the ship’s walls were closing around him, with only the feeblest of daylight eking its way through the portholes to reach his desperate eyes… 

The memory of his own discomfort still brought him shame. Sometimes Cullen thought that the discomfort had simply never gone away, lingering forever at the back of his mind as he worked his way up through the navy ranks and dissipating only when he was finally, blessedly, reassigned to duty on dry land. 

But being here on the Lady Luck was unlike any navy ship he’d ever been assigned to. Cullen didn’t feel the usual tension that gripped his gut when he set foot on a navy ship. Oddly enough, Cullen was feeling nearly as comfortable as he ever did on land. 

“Hey, Commander.” 

Cullen looked up. Varric was at the helm, and he waved a casual hand for Cullen to join him. 

Cullen made his way up the stairs to join the dwarven quartermaster. “Master Tethras,” he said. “Ideal conditions for sailing today. Piper must be pleased.”

Varric smiled. “Oh sure. But she likes it even better when it rains.” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows, then smiled as he remembered. “Ah, of course. I should hope a major storm doesn’t strike while I am on board.”

Varric’s smile broadened. “She told you about her love of storms, huh?”

“I believe it’s one of the first things I learned about her,” he replied. He tapped his fingers idly on his cup of tea. “She told me a story once about a tornado; here in the middle of the Amaranthine Ocean, I believe. She said the Lady Luck was lifted a hundred yards into the air before landing back in the water with an enormous splash.” 

Varric chuckled. “Of course that’s what she said.”

Cullen smirked at him. “You mean to tell me it’s not true?” 

Varric shrugged innocently. “I couldn’t say. I wasn’t on the ship at the time.” 

“A story from before your time?” Cullen asked with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Varric said. “I think that one was from her childhood.”

Cullen looked at him in surprise. “Her childhood?”

Varric nodded and adjusted the ship’s course slightly. “She practically grew up on this ship. Some of her guys here have known her since she was a kid.” 

Cullen stared at him, then looked around the Lady Luck with new appreciation. No wonder Piper was so fond of the ship. She may only have been the captain for a few years, but if she’d been sailing on this ship since she was a child, then of course she would view it as her home. 

He sipped thoughtfully from his teacup for a moment. Then Varric spoke again. “So. What’s next for you, Commander? We taking you back to Kirkwall eventually?” 

Cullen swallowed his tea. “Yes,” he said, with more confidence than he felt. In truth, he wasn’t quite certain what his next move should be. He hadn’t yet had a chance to consult with Rylen this morning; his faithful lieutenant was running drills with some of Piper’s crewmates, and Cullen was loathe to disrupt their activities, particularly since he wasn’t sure what to say to Rylen yet. 

Rylen’s life had been placed in danger, and it was entirely Cullen’s fault. Cullen wanted to have a plan to set things straight with Meredith before returning to Kirkwall, but in truth, he wasn’t sure how to return to Kirkwall without placing an even larger target on Rylen’s back, not to mention his own. 

Varric hummed a quiet acknowledgement. “If you wanted to skip out on the navy, I’m sure Piper could find space for you on the ship.”

Cullen smiled at Varric’s jest, but to his surprise, Varric’s expression was serious. 

Cullen blinked. “You… you are serious about that. You truly think she would?”

Varric huffed in amusement. “She brought Rynne Hawke on board, and Rynne doesn’t know the first thing about being on a ship. She would definitely let you join the crew, if that’s what you wanted.”

Cullen glanced across the deck at Lady Rynne. She and Fenris were standing at the starboard taffrail now, apparently deep in conversation. Not for the first time today, Piper’s words from the previous night crossed his mind. 

She’d invited him to join the crew. Oh, she’d said she was joking, certainly, but the more Cullen thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder if Varric was right. Had Piper meant it when she’d said he could join the Lady Luck’s crew? 

He looked at Varric once more. “What made you decide to leave Kirkwall and join Piper’s crew?”

Varric tilted his head and adjusted the steering. “Well, Kirkwall…” He glanced up at Cullen. “Kirkwall’s home, and in some ways, it always will be. The book shop is still mine, by the way, in case you wondered,” he said with a smirk. Then he looked out at the horizon again. “Can I talk frankly? Without this getting back to your, uh, superiors?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, and a wiggle of trepidation made its way through his gut. He was certain he wasn’t going to like what Varric had to say, but he had no choice but to hear it now. “Of course,” he said. 

Varric glanced at him once more before turning his gaze to the ocean ahead. “In the past few years, it’s felt kinda like the navy is, uh, holding the reins a little too much in Kirkwall. For example, taxes have been going up, but we haven’t seen much done for it. Crime is still high in Lowtown. The docks still need repairs. The only changes I’ve seen are the navy getting bigger ships and shinier buckles on their boots.” 

Cullen glanced guiltily down at his own salt-worn boots. He’d just had this pair replaced a year ago. 

“I know that’s just one example,” Varric went on. “And yeah, yeah, you could say it’s the Viscount who’s at fault. But I think we all know who really has the Viscount’s ear.” 

Meredith. Cullen pursed his lips in frustration. Now that he was seeing so many ways that her influence was at play, he was angry at himself for not realizing sooner that she was the one behind the blood lyrium problem.

For lack of anything to say, he sipped his cooling tea. But Varric wasn’t finished. “In fairness to you guys, that’s not the only reason I left Kirkwall.” He shrugged. “It’s just nice being a part of Piper’s crew. I mean, I don’t love being the quartermaster; sometimes I miss the simplicity of being a bookstore owner. And I don’t have time to write as much as I’d like. But the freedom of having Piper for a boss makes it worth it.”

Cullen leaned back against the railing and tilted his head quizzically. “The freedom of having a boss…?”

Varric smiled at him. “Of having Piper for a boss,” he corrected. “She calls the shots, no doubt about that, but she listens to us. We came to rescue you, and that was what she wanted. But now we’ll spend a week or two going where the crew want to go, because she wants everyone to be happy.” He shrugged. “Can’t say there’s much of anything in Kirkwall that’s that equitable.”

Cullen sighed and leaned back against the railing. “No, you can’t,” he said softly.

Varric’s gaze was sympathetic, and Cullen gave him a wry little smile. Then a sultry voice floated into his ears. 

“Good morning, Golden Boy.” 

Piper was sauntering toward them with a broad smile on her face. Her silver hair was bound in a loose and messy braid, and she was wearing a little sleeveless vest that showed off her arms and the bronzed planes of her belly. 

He tore his shameless eyes away from her bare skin and gave her a polite half-bow. “Captain.” 

She chuckled and patted his cheek. “Oh Cullen, don’t go formal on me now. There’s no place for manners for a man who’s showing that much chest.” She winked at him salaciously.

He cleared his throat and tugged nervously at the open collar of his shirt, and Varric chuckled. “Does that mean I can be rude to you whenever I want, then?”

She laughed and bumped his shoulder with her hip. “As though you’re ever polite to me anyway, you insubordinate swine.” She looped her hand companionably through Cullen’s elbow. “I’m whisking this one away for breakfast. Holler if you need me.”

“You got it,” Varric said. 

Piper smiled up at Cullen. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished, in fact,” he admitted. “I truly can’t recall the last time I ate. Though I suspect I’m less hungry than I would be without that… concoction Anders gave me last night.”

“Ah, you remember that, then!” She laughed as she led him across the deck toward the forecastle. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember much of last night. You were fucking exhausted.” 

I recall you joking about me joining your ship, he thought. Then he pushed the thought away. It wasn’t as though he was in a position to consider the offer anyhow, even if she meant it.

“I remember,” he said out loud. “I especially remember your kindness. No, I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Kindness is insufficient. I… truly, Piper, Rylen and I owe you our lives. I can’t thank you enough—” 

She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh Cullen, please! Stop thanking me. It’s becoming so tiresome.” She waved for him to take a seat on a bench near the bow. There was a plain but clean wooden tray on the bench containing two biscuits slathered with jam, two portions of salted beef, and an orange sliced into six pieces. 

Cullen gestured politely for her to take a seat. She grinned at him, then plopped down on the bench and crossed her legs. “You were dead to the world last night, you know. You didn’t even hear the celebration on deck, did you?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows as he sat on the bench. “There was a celebration?”

She laughed and picked up a slice of orange. “Yes indeed. It was very rowdy – just how I like it. I didn’t join in this time, but believe me when I said the crew enjoyed themselves.” She bit into the orange slice with relish, then delicately wiped a trickle of juice from the corner of her mouth. “Your man Rylen jumped right into the fun. I shouldn’t be surprised, though; those Starkhaven boys can drink.” She swallowed her bite of orange and smiled mischievously. “I think he’d fit in just fine on my ship.”

A funny swooping feeling filled Cullen’s belly. There it was again: another tongue-in-cheek implication that he – well, Rylen in this case – should join her crew. But Cullen still couldn’t decide if she was serious or not.

He decided to sidestep it for now. He smiled and selected a piece of salted beef. “He was training with your men, as well. He’s very fortunate; he has that uncanny ability to befriend anyone. Until recently, that is.” He sighed and took a bite of beef as he remembered the regrettable threats on Rylen’s life back in the navy headquarters. 

Piper’s expression grew serious. “Cullen, what happened? How did you end up on the wrong side of a flintlock in the ass-end of nowhere?”

He swallowed the beef before replying. “My investigation into the blood lyrium problem was becoming too successful, it seems. Or… well.” He twisted his lips ruefully. “I was on the right track, at least. And I failed to hide the fact that I was on the right track.”

She tilted her head curiously, so he continued to explain. “I followed your tip,” he said with a grateful nod. “I went to the Darktown docks and waited until I saw something suspicious, and…” He rose from the bench and idly wandered over to the taffrail. “Well, to make a long story short, I was nearing the conclusion that Meredith Stannard, my commanding officer, was the one behind the blood lyrium trade.” 

Piper raised her eyebrows. “You’re kidding. Well, you did say it seemed to be an inside job.” She wandered over to join him and hopped up to sit on the taffrail. 

“Yes, I did. But somehow, I didn’t imagine…” He trailed off, watching nervously as Piper swung one leg over the side of the taffrail to dangle carelessly over the open ocean below. 

She comfortably folded her other leg up on the taffrail, then shot him a quizzical look. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no, nothing,” he stammered. There was no point asking her to come down from her precarious perch; if he expressed concern about her safety, she would only laugh. 

“Er, what was I… oh yes. Meredith.” He forced his eyes from her dangerously dangling leg back up to her bright-eyed face. “Well, as I mentioned, I did not hide my investigation well enough. I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I placed Rylen in danger by acquiring his assistance, and Meredith had us sent to Estwatch. Ostensibly to scout the blasted place for a new trading colony–”

Piper barked out a scathing laugh. “You must be fucking joking. That place, a trading colony?”

“I know,” Cullen said flatly. “It’s… it is laughable. She must truly have been desperate to jettison us so blatantly.” He ran a hand through his unfortunately curling hair. “In any case, we made the trip to Estwatch without incident, but I knew it was just a matter of time before her men made a move against us. Within a day of our arrival, Ser Alrik–”

“That scum that I killed?” Piper interrupted. She snorted dismissively. “Good riddance, by the way.”

Cullen shot her a tiny smile, then leaned his elbows on the taffrail. “Within a day, he ‘found’ blood lyrium in my quarters and accused me of corruption.”

Piper’s face slackened with shock, then twisted with anger. “You’re not serious.”

“Unfortunately, I am,” Cullen said tiredly. “I argued, he demanded that Rylen and I confess, I refused. There was an altercation, and…” He sighed again. “We fled Alrik and his men. We were forced to hide on the island for almost two days. When they finally caught up with us, I managed to kill one of them while helping Rylen to escape. And thus the charges against me became corruption and murder. After that… well, you came.” He shot her a small, grateful smile, then looked out across the horizon at the shadowy shape of Llomerynn in the distance.

A moment later, Piper reached over and squeezed his hand. 

Without really even thinking about it, Cullen turned his hand over so her fingers were resting on his palm. They were small and slender but tough with calluses, and as Cullen idly studied her hand, she twined her fingers with his. 

He swallowed hard and met her gaze, and butterflies burst to life in his belly. Her eyebrows were lifted with sympathy, and her big hazel eyes were warm and kind, and… 

… and there was a P branded on her wrist. A cruel mark of white standing out against the warm bronze of her skin that told everyone, in no uncertain terms, that she was a pirate. 

No matter how fond he was of Piper, she was still a pirate captain, and he was a commander of the Kirkwall Navy. When Cullen returned to his post, Piper would return to the sea, and this… partnership, or truce, or whatever they wanted to call it – this would come to an end. 

They would likely see each other again, especially if Cullen managed to undo some of Meredith’s more outrageous laws once she was stripped of her rank. But this warmth in his gut and this wistful pulling feeling behind his sternum… There was nowhere this could go. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, then returned his gaze to his cold cup of tea and reluctantly released Piper’s hand. “I… I suppose I hoped for better. With Meredith as my admiral, that is. It’s disheartening to realize you’ve dedicated your life to something, only to find it is not what you had thought. Not what you had… hoped.”

She was quiet for a moment, and Cullen shot her another quick glance. Her lips were twisted with sympathy, and when he met her eye, she shrugged sadly. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I… well, if the world was fair, then shitty things would only happen to shitty people. But then, if the world was fair, we pirates wouldn’t need to exist.” She shot him a cheeky smile.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if a normal lawful life on land gave everyone what they needed to survive, then that’s where most people would be,” she said. “But everyone on this ship is here because it’s the better alternative.” She pulled the scrap of cloth from the end of her braid, then started unravelling her braid as she continued to speak. “If my crewmates followed the laws of the lands they came from, Fenris would still be some asshole’s slave. Anders would be stuck with the Ferelden Navy, and Rynne would probably be stuck marrying some rich old guy. They’re all here because they want to be, and that’s what matters.” 

She ran her hands through her hair, loosing it from the constraints of the braid that had held it in place. A sweet and spicy scent wafted from the wavy silver cloud, and Cullen forced himself to pay attention to her words rather than the smell of her hair.

“This life was their choice, you see?” she said, oblivious to his inappropriate focus on her hair. “It’s what they chose. And if they decided they didn’t want to be on the Lady Luck anymore, well…” She shrugged and pushed her hair back from her shoulder. “Some pirate captains make their crew sign a contract. I don’t keep crew members against their will. But my point is, everyone is here because something was unfair. There was some kind of shitty injustice where they came from, so they found themselves on my ship instead.” She casually leaned back on her palms. “We follow the code of the Lady Luck. Other than that, we’re free to do whatever the fuck we like.”  

Cullen looked at her in surprise. “The code of the Lady Luck? What is that?”

She widened her eyes, then treated him to a slow smile. “Oh, Golden Boy. I’ve never mentioned this to you? It’s the set of laws every crew member has to follow while they’re on my ship.”

He gaped at her. “You… you have laws?”

She laughed merrily and ran her hands through her hair, releasing yet more of the warm and tangy scent from the wavy strands. “Yes, we do. Are you interested in reading them?”

“Very much, in fact,” he said earnestly.

Her smile became wicked. “Well, you can’t. For pirates’ eyes only.” She shrugged and leaned back on her palms once more. “If you were to ever join my crew, on the other hand…” She winked at him, then looked out to sea. 

His belly swooped once more. This was the third time now that she’d jested about this. But Cullen simply couldn’t take it as a joke anymore. 

He studied her in silence, admiring the curl of the smile on her lips and the playful tug of the wind through her unruly hair until finally she turned back to meet his eye. In silence, they stared at each other until the smile slowly melted from her lips, leaving an uncharacteristically serious look on her face. 

She licked her lips, then smiled again. “Why are you staring at me? Like what you see, do you?” She lifted her tattooed shoulder in a coquettish manner.

He kept his steady gaze on her face. “Piper… would you genuinely consider asking me to join your crew?”

The jocularity fled her face, and Cullen’s belly flipped over once more: her expression was suddenly bright with hope. “Why? Would you be willing to consider it?”

He took a slow, careful breath. Clearly the thought had crossed his mind multiple times today. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed, or the last time he had slept this soundly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in anyone’s company who made him feel so much at ease the way Piper did. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had supported and defended him as fiercely Piper had. 

But the decision about his next move wasn’t just about Cullen himself. There were bigger issues that needed to be considered; the Kirkwall Navy was undeniably corrupt, and Cullen couldn’t simply walk away if they were placing the city – and his goodhearted comrades – at risk. 

He gazed into Piper’s beautiful hazel eyes. “Piper, I…” He exhaled heavily, but she saved him from saying the most difficult part.  

“You have to see this through in Kirkwall,” she said softly.

He nodded. “I must. I have no… I have no choice.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how sad they sounded, especially in light of Piper’s inspiring talk about her crew and their motivations for being on the Lady Luck. 

He looked sadly down at his cup of tea. Then Piper spoke again. “All right. How can we help?”

He looked at her. He must have misheard. “You… you want to help the Kirkwall Navy?” he said slowly.

She snorted. “No. I want to help you.”

He stared at her. Her lovely face was friendly and matter-of-fact, as though her offer to help him was no big deal. 

He swallowed the rising lump in his throat. “But… your crew,” he croaked. “Will they agree to…  to helping me?”

She shrugged and ruffled her hair. “Sure, if I throw enough treasure at them.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she chuckled. “I’m joking, Golden Boy. Of course I’ll run it past them first. And trust me, they’ll be in an extra agreeable mood after we spend a few nights in Rialto.” With these words, her lips lifted into a very broad and very mischievous grin.

Cullen’s stomach, meanwhile, dropped like a stone. “Rialto?” he blurted. “A few nights? Piper, I can’t go to Rialto, it’s… it’s–”

“–the finest and most notorious pirate port on this side of the Amaranthine Ocean?” she finished cheerfully. “I know. And trust me, Cullen, it’ll do you some good.”

“Do me some–? How?” he asked incredulously. “I’m – Piper, if I’m spotted… cavorting in a pirate port–”

She laughed and playfully patted his cheek. “Cullen. Relax,” she said soothingly. “What happens in Rialto stays in Rialto. But you don’t have to cavort if you don’t want to.” She snickered. “You definitely have to come off the ship, though, because I said so. I’m the captain, and what I say goes.”

Her grin was wicked and wide, and Cullen gave her a chiding look. “Piper.”

She laughed once more. Then, to Cullen’s horror, she stood up on the taffrail with only one hand clinging cavalierly to the nearest line. 

“Listen up, you sorry lot!” she bellowed to the crew. “Change of plans! We’re going to bypass Llomerynn and head straight for Rialto!” 

An enormous cheer rose from the entire crew, and Piper grinned down at Cullen. “All right, Golden Boy. Are you ready to see what the pirate life is really like?”

“Do I have a choice?” he said, half in jest. He reached one hand up to her entreatingly. 

To his relief, she took his hand and hopped down to the deck. She shook her wild hair back from her face and smiled, but her smile was soft now instead of cheeky.

“Of course you have a choice,” she told him. “That’s the whole point.” 

He studied her open, guileless, beautiful face. Finally he took a deep breath and nodded. 

“All right, Captain Lavellan,” he said. “I will follow your lead. Just this once,” he added in a mock-scolding tone.

She grinned at him and tugged the collar of his shirt. “That’s all I ask, Golden Boy. A few nights in Rialto, and maybe you’ll change your tune.”

Her eyes were dancing with laughter, and Cullen smiled at her joyful face. He couldn’t abandon his duty to Kirkwall; he had to return eventually, and Piper knew it too. 

But while he was figuring out his next move, he might as well follow Piper’s lead. It couldn’t hurt to learn more about a pirate’s life. From a purely educational perspective, of course. 

He admired her bright troublemaker’s grin. He barely knew what to expect from this trip to Rialto, but he knew this much: it was going to be an adventure. 

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Juliet Dies in This Chapter Six: Life

Claire is alive. She is not well.

Welcome to the final chapter, sorry for the late update! In exchange, have some art of Jim and Claire.

If anyone thought this was going to be a happy chapter, though... well, trigger/spoiler warning for offscreen torture and death, mentions of malnutrition, PTSD, and some internalized ableism.

Also, huge thanks to everyone who has reblogged the previous chapters of this fic.

AO3

FFN

The walk to the hospital felt so very long.

The walk to the hospital was two agonizing blocks and one alley they had taken because Claire had taken one look at the mass of people and –

She didn’t remember what she did, but she remembered Jim and Toby trying to calm her down, telling her that she didn’t have to interact with a lot of people yet, that they knew a shortcut.

What had she been thinking? That once she got out of the Shadow Realm, her anxiety would suddenly go down to zero?

The entire way to the hospital, Claire had been on the edge of a panic attack and she didn’t know why. She was safe now. She had saved Enrique. Her friends were still alive. Jim was alive. She had escaped. A mob of people doing last-minute Christmas shopping – because she had been there for six months – wouldn’t be able to hurt her in a meaningful way, so why was she so scared?

Was it because everything was so loud? She was used to sounds only happening because she made them happen, but she had been always listening to make sure Morgana wasn’t coming back to torture her.

Claire was thankful for the diversion from the crowd. Her knees, ankles, and hips were not thankful for the supposed “shortcut.” She had tried to keep up an exercise regimen, but it was hard to keep to a schedule when the passage of time was a nebulous concept. The amount of weight she had lost didn’t help, either.

Jim didn’t let go of her hand. Toby only let go of Claire’s hand when he needed to readjust Enrique. It was better for him to hold her brother; there were sharp edges on his armor. He was less of a hazard.

The waiting room for the clinic was empty. There was a clock reading 3:46, and it ticked, because time was meaningful on Earth. The receptionist looked up and immediately reached for their pager. “Doctor Lake? Your son and his friends are here.”

Barbara must have been close, because not a minute later – Claire kept the clock in her vision – she came barreling down the corridor.

First Barbara’s eyes landed on Toby, and she looked relieved to see Enrique, alive and mostly well, aside from the cut on his hand. Then her eyes passed over Claire in favor of Jim; Barbara had a look of frustrated concern upon seeing Jim’s burns. It was as if burns from the sunlight was a too-common occurrence. Then, finally, Barbara noticed the figure standing between the two boys.

She looked like she had seen a ghost. Claire didn’t fault her for that; just because she was opaque didn’t mean the girl who had jumped through the portal hadn’t died six months ago.

Barbara recovered quickly. “Toby, take Enrique to the pediatric ward. Jim, I’m sure you know where the burn treatment center is.”

Toby ripped his hand from Claire’s with an apologetic look. “I’ll call your parents, tell them that you and Enrique are here,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Jim began to move away from her, too, and in panic – chains, Blinky, torn, snapped – Claire used her other hand to hold onto his. Immediately she felt guilty, but she did not let go.

“Hey, Mom? Is it okay if I stay with Claire for a bit?” he asked, giving her a comforting smile. Or at least, it was supposed to be one. Claire took no comfort in the situation, no matter what changed.

“Five minutes, maximum, and then you’re getting those burns looked at.”

They walked to an empty patient examination room. Claire couldn’t remember if this was the same one where Barbara had proclaimed that Claire’s illness from the portal was due to stress. She hoped that Barbara had gotten better with identifying the symptoms of dark magic.

There was a scale and a blood pressure cuff in the room. Claire felt her eyes widen; she didn’t want anyone to see her. She didn’t want anyone to see how much she had been warped.

 “Can you take off your armor?” Barbara asked. Claire’s joints ached even when her armor braced them; if she wanted them to heal, she would have to let a doctor see them. Barbara had accepted when her son had become a troll, so she was the best bet for not casting Claire away in horror.

Claire braced herself against the wall with one hand. With the other, she closed her fingers around the crystal in the center of her breastplate and pulled it out. Her armor glowed and was pulled in like a star into a glowing black hole. Her porcelain-white hair floated around her head for the briefest of moments as she placed the crystal in her pocket, carefully wedged so that she could don her armor again in a half-moment’s notice.

Someone inhaled sharply. Shock, probably, from seeing the way cracks crawled their way up and down her arms, with a concentrated group around her wrists and elbows. From seeing the irregular choker of cracks around her neck, a scar from when her neck had snapped when she had first become trapped; a brand that said no matter how many times Claire died, Morgana would resurrect her again just to make sure the agony never ended.

She was thankful that she woke up cold, and wore sweats, socks, and a t-shirt instead of the tank top and shorts she had gone to bed in. She wished she could be wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck, and a hood, and gloves, and maybe a glamour mask while she was at it.

Taking off her armor was a mistake. Not only was she shaking, but they knew, now. They knew that she was not the Claire they knew anymore; she was broken, and her body was just a bunch of brutally glued together pieces. She was very tempted to take out her hairclips and hide behind her hair like she did as a child.

“Hey, Claire?” Jim asked. “Why are you wearing my clothes?”

“What?”

“I mean, you wore your Papa Skull shirt when… on that day, when you and Toby were putting on your armor.” His face fell, but then he grinned. “Why are you now wearing gym clothes?”

She couldn’t help the laughter that caused her to nearly double over. “You, you aren’t even funny,” she said when she was able to catch her breath. How long had it been since she had laughed like that? How long had it been since she had last smiled?

Barbara pushed her glasses up slightly to pinch her brow, despite her shoulders shaking slightly from laughter. She and Jim then helped Claire to the scale.

Concern flashed across Jim and Barbara’s faces as they saw just how little Claire weighed. Claire didn’t think her weight was that bad; it was harder to see her ribs than when she had first escaped Morgana.

She had to be helped to the bed, too, because her arms and legs ached, and she didn’t want to risk triggering a panic attack by levitating herself. Claire pressed her lips together and tried not to think about the way the blood pressure cuff squeezed her arm.

“Hey, I don’t know if I told you this, but that was pretty cool, what you did with the chains,” Jim said. He was trying to distract her. She appreciated it, because logically she suspected that no one wanted to attack her in this hospital despite her anxiety telling her to be vigilant.

“Thanks,” she said, the energy from her laughter gone. She glanced at the blood pressure monitor and realized that she had no idea what 130/78 meant, though she was pretty sure usually the top number was lower.

“Claire, I’m going to ask you some questions. Jim, go get your burns treated,” Barbara said as she removed the blood pressure cuff.

“Yes, Mom,” he said, reluctantly. “See you in, like, twenty minutes, Claire.”

Claire waved and winced at the strain.

“The places where the cracks are,” Barbara said. “Do they hurt?”

“Sometimes,” Claire said. Her eyes darted about, looking for a clock. Twenty minutes. One thousand, two hundred seconds. Without a clock, it meant nothing to her. She didn’t hear a ticking noise.

“Have you… were any of your bones broken?” Barbara asked, and her voice was awkwardly stiff, like she was trying to stick to a procedure. A list of questions to ask a former POW, or something.

Claire nodded. “They… they got healed, though.”

“Okay,” Barbara said, writing it down. “Can you say how long ago that was?”

“No.” Claire found the clock. It read 2:10. A large post-it note was on top of it, and it read “REMINDER: FIX!”

“Do you think they’re the reason why you have difficulty walking?”

“Uh… no, it was… it was… I’m sorry.” Chained, pulled, snapped, slammed –

Claire gnawed at her lip. She was supposed to be okay here. “I can’t remember which, which method of torture made my joints bad.”

“It’s okay, it shouldn’t affect the treatment,” Barbara soothed; she pulled her stethoscope from where it hung around her neck. “I’m going to check your heartbeat and breathing.” She pulled Claire’s shirt up from her back. Barbara’s gasp would be inaudible for anyone who wasn’t hypersensitive to every sound.

The feeling of the cool metal circle against the crisscrossed scars and cracks was an odd one, but Claire tried to keep her breathing steady.

“Well, the good news is that your heartbeat and breathing are normal,” Barbara said. She smiled, and Claire tried to mirror it. Her own felt like an ugly, broken mess.

“When was the last time you ate?” Barbara asked.

Claire shrugged. “I… I don’t know, I guess in the last day?” As if on cue, her stomach growled. “Yeah, last day, since my body is still acting human.” She had come to notice that if she didn’t eat for a long enough period of time, her magic would switch on to keep her alive. She always felt more tired than usual when that happened, though. Maybe more depressed and anxious, too.

“When was your last period?” Barbara asked.

“Um, like, a week or two before the Eternal Night?” Claire said. “I… I think between the, the torture and the forgetting to eat it just… stopped.”

Barbara pulled out a small flashlight, and then put it back into her lab coat. Since she then began to gently feel around Claire’s head, Barbara must have realized that Claire didn’t have pupils anymore.

“I’m going to start an IV,” Barbara said. “Will you be okay for that?”

Piercing, claws, heart, ripped –

“I should be,” Claire said, blinking away the flashes of memory. “Will you be able to find a vein?”

“Your veins shouldn’t be harder to find than Jim’s,” Barbara said, feeling around Claire’s elbow. “Make a fist?”

Claire looked away but complied.

“Your parents are going to be so happy to see that you’re alive.”

Would they be, when they saw?

Pain, piercing, claws, gold –

“Are you cold? I can go get a blanket,” Barbara said. Claire realized she was trembling, and that there was an IV drip connected to her arm.

“I, I’ll be fine.”

“Do you have a lot of flashbacks from what happened to you, in the Shadow Realm?”

“Y-yeah.”

“You’re safe here,” Barbara said, looking Claire in the eyes. “And even if anyone were to come after you, I keep an enchanted knife on me these days.”

And Claire had her armor, and her magic, and maybe she could fight well enough. She was exhausted, though.

“I’m going to get you something to eat,” Barbara said. Claire realized she must have frowned or did something wrong because Barbara rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s hospital food, not my cooking. The bread shouldn’t upset your stomach.”

Claire was pretty sure she had eaten a jalapeño or two while in the Shadow Realm, but bread was fine. Barbara left the room. Claire was alone, again.

There was noise, though. A lot of noise. Had Earth always been so loud?

Enough time passed for Claire to count forty of the white parts of the triangles in the ground, with the couple times she had restarted twice because she had lost focus because a noise outside had startled her.

Claire heard three sets of footsteps as well as Barbara’s voice.

“She shows some signs of malnourishment, and I’m going to want to run x-rays on her later, to see how well her broken bones healed, and also maybe find a cause to her bad joints,” Barbara said in a hushed tone. The footsteps stopped outside the door. “And, please don’t take this as a formal diagnosis because I’m not a psychiatrist or psychologist, but I think she might have PTSD. She’s really spooked, and she says she often has flashbacks to her trauma.”

The door opened.

Barbara held a small tray of food, but despite her hunger she wasn’t the person Claire focused on.

Claire’s parents looked ecstatic, and then bewildered. And why wouldn’t they be? They were expecting their daughter, not a girl covered in black cracks with white hair and black-and-purple eyes.

Claire couldn’t bring herself to put on her armor, even though surely that would make her parents realize who she was.

“Claire?” her mom asked in a shaking voice. Her mom’s voice never shook. Her dad looked like he was about to cry but was holding himself together for the sake of her mom and Enrique. Enrique, whose hand had been bandaged from where the sorcerer had cut him.

Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak. Couldn’t speak, not really, not with the panic settling in. The muscles in her jaw and neck kept twitching as the left side of her mouth kept trying to move downwards. It wasn’t a frown her face was trying to form, it was a raw expression of pain she knew too well.

She missed them so much, but surely they would leave, now that they knew the truth about her.

Claire gave a slow nod, and that was enough permission for her family to suddenly be close and hugging her.

Suffocated, restrained – no. Claire forced herself to breathe deeply.

She had survived the Shadow Realm.

She was safe. She was home.

She hugged her parents back and began to weep.

She might even get to live.