#i have 5 assignments left. if i crack down i can get em all in on time AND do a great job. i can fucking do this

[dykedragons]

ive done an insane amount of stuff in the last week. goodness gracious. all these high-effort tasks that ive been doing all day, in a row!!!!!!!! and i still have 2 days of assignments left but at least theyre just writing and editing and can be done in just one big sitting each...

i textured, added materials, lighted and rendered the room (first 3 images) in ONE DAY. i was up until 6 am. and that was after UV unwrapping every object for like 3 days straight.

the Fatalis drawing was done in 2 days. the Daydream sculpt was done in 4 days. this is a cry for help lmfao

[taephilia]

eau de parfum

(5) citrus: eau de parfum | masterlist | prev - next

pairing: kim namjoon x fem!reader (feat. an annoying jeon jungkook)

genre: fluff, college au

word count: 1,868

warnings: swearing

summary: namjoon always lets you borrow his clothes and you're beginning to wonder if he does it on purpose

a/n: it's been a while since i've last posted for this series but i'm finally bringing it back! and on my new blog as well! the citrus couple still means so much to me so i'm very happy to be writing for them again and i hope you all love them as much as i do.

Goosebumps rise along your skin as soon as you enter the library, the cold air a nice temporary relief from the summer heat but you know that in 5 minutes, you’ll regret not bringing a sweater with you. You usually bring one with you on days that you need to hunker down in the library and concentrate but you woke up late and in your rush to get to class, had left your hoodie on your desk chair. Well, really it’s Namjoon’s hoodie but it’s too comfortable to give back to him yet. You honestly can’t even count the amount of cardigans and sweaters and shirts that he’s let you borrow, only to get them back a week later—and that’s if you’re not feeling particularly attached to that article of clothing.

A part of you feels guilty for basically having a quarter of your closet made up of clothes you’ve taken from him but every other part of you relishes in the fact that Namjoon is letting you wear his clothes. You thought you were dreaming when he had let you stay the night at his place a few weeks ago but whenever you get a whiff of his scent from his clothes (laundry, plants (“Petrichor,” he would correct you), and cologne), you’re reminded of waking up beside him in his bed. You remember how warm it was beside him, how you could just reach out and touch him if you really wanted to; you didn’t because that would’ve been weird but you could have. Namjoon just has that effect on you. You find yourself thinking about love and relationships quite a lot when you’re around him and it takes all of your self-control to pull your gaze away from him, to push the butterflies in your stomach down, and to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

While making your way to your usual spot (the second floor near the art history section, at the table with chairs that are like mini booths), you contemplate texting Sooyoung and asking her to bring the hoodie to the library for you. You know that she’s home, she should be waking up from her mid-day nap right about now, but just as you reach for your phone, you shake the thought away. If you invite Sooyoung here, even for something as simple as dropping off a sweater, you know that she’ll distract you for at least an hour and you desperately need to get work done. So you quickly rub your hands up and down your upper arms and bring your feet up to the chair, hoping that you’ll be able to conserve more body heat by curling up.

Just as you feel like you’re making some progress, someone taps your shoulder to get your attention. But before you can even turn around to look at them, they’re already making their way around to the seat opposite you and dropping their things on to the table. With furrowed brows, you pull out one of your earphones and are about to give this stranger a piece of your mind when you hear a very familiar laugh.

“Got ‘em,” Jungkook laughs as he flops into the cushioned chair, his posture making it look more like he’s lounging at home rather than doing work at the campus library. “Hey (Y/N).”

“I don’t recall you asking me if you could sit there,” you point out while reaching forward to steal some chips from the open bag he set down. You raise an eyebrow challengingly when you see him about to protest.

A sigh leaves his lips and he stands up. “Do you mind if I sit here, (Y/N)?” Jungkook points at the chair that he was just occupying and you have to hold back the laugh that threatens to bubble up. He looks just like a little kid, the little pout on his lips almost making you regret your teasing reply. Almost.

“I do mind actually,” you reply with as straight of a face as you can muster. “Please don’t sit here.”

“Wh- Why not!” His lower lip juts out even further and that’s enough to get you to crack a smile.

Jungkook sits down once he sees the teasing smile on your lips, pushing the bag of chips towards the middle as a silent offer to you. You plug your earphone back in and go back to doing your work but you can’t help but notice your friend glancing up at you every 5 minutes. After about the tenth time of catching him staring, you sigh and give him your attention once more. “Jungkook, I can tell you want to talk to me but I’m trying to focus right now. Give me half an hour and then I’ll take a break. And then you can tell me all about your new volleyball trick or show me the new video you made for class or whatever it is.”

Jungkook bounces in his seat a little at the promise of having your undivided attention soon, teeth on display as he grins widely at you and says, “I actually wanted to talk about this new anime that I’m watching that I think you would like. But since you brought it up, there is a new volleyball trick I learned that I wanna-”

You put your earphone back in once more and turn up the volume, not even letting Jungkook finish his sentence before pointedly ignoring him. You’re halfway through your assignment for your ‘Sensation and Perception’ psychology class when you see Jungkook wave his hands to try to get your attention. He taps the table and even taps at the back of your laptop screen when you don’t immediately flick your eyes up to him and when you finally rip your earphones out and glare at him, he shrinks back in his seat.

“Jungkook, what did I tell y-”

“Uh hey, (Y/N).”

When you turn to find the source of the voice that did not come from Jungkook, you’re met with the boy who’s been on your mind for weeks now—the boy you just can’t seem to get out of your head no matter how hard you try to.

“O-Oh hey, Joon,” you greet him, a shaky smile on your lips at how embarrassed you feel for snapping at Jungkook. “What are you doing here?”

“My usual spot is taken and you told me you have a lot of work so I kinda just hoped you would be here.” There’s a slight blush on Namjoon’s cheeks as he rubs at the back of his neck, eyes flicking over to Jungkook who has his eyebrows raised as he looks back and forth between the two of you. You realize in that moment that Jungkook hasn’t met Namjoon yet, you haven’t even really told him about him, and he’s definitely going to give you shit for it later. “I wasn’t expecting you to have company though so I can just go if-”

Before you can even open your mouth to protest, Jungkook is already clearing some space for him. “No, of course you can sit with us! Any friend of (Y/N)’s is a friend of mine. The name’s Jungkook, and I’m guessing you’re the Namjoon that I’ve been hearing so much about from Soonyoung?”

Your eyes widen at that. Of course she’s been gossiping about me to Jungkook, I should’ve known better. He always knows how to get her to talk. Jungkook’s eyes meet yours from across the table and when he gives you the shit-eating grin you’ve become all too familiar with, you grit your teeth and force a smile back before turning to Namjoon. “Yeah you can sit with us, Joon, it’s no big deal.”

Namjoon nods and thanks the both of you before sitting down, immediately plugging his headphones in and getting to work. The one thing that you’re grateful for is that because Jungkook doesn’t know Namjoon, he won’t act out as much as he would if it were just the two of you. Your body relaxes at that thought of relief and you go back to your work once more, not even noticing that an hour and a half has passed until you feel a chill run down your spine. You glance up at the air conditioning vent only a few feet from your table as you run your hands up and down your arms. The thought of texting Soonyoung crosses your mind once again but before you can even glance at your phone, there’s a tap on your knee as Namjoon holds up a sweater to you.

“Here, it’s kind of cold in here,” he explains as he places it in your hands. His pen is spinning in his other hand, a sure sign that he’s nervous, and you wonder just exactly what Namjoon could be nervous about right at this amount. Is he embarrassed to give you his cardigan? You’ve borrowed plenty of his clothes before, you don’t see why-

Your gaze meets Jungkook’s once again and you realize why Namjoon is nervous. Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised as he watches you accept the cardigan and shrug it on, blatantly ignoring what he’s trying to silently insinuate to you. You can see the gears turning in his head and you subtly shake your head at him, pleading with your eyes to not embarrass you in front of Namjoon. But of course, one of Jungkook’s sole purposes in life is to embarrass you (at least, that’s what it feels like). So he opens his mouth.

“You know, I was wondering where (Y/N) had suddenly got all of these new clothes from,” Jungkook muses, eyes going back and forth from Namjoon’s blushing face to your downturned eyes. “And it turns out that they’re not even her’s! I swear, half of her closet must be made up of your clothes, Namjoon.”

“Hey, I’m not stealing!” you argue. “I give them back!”

“After like a week,” Namjoon points out.

Your head whips over to glare at him but the annoyance you feel at him taking Jungkook’s side fades when you see the hints of a fond smile underneath his small smirk. You lean back in your seat and huff, putting a headphone in to signal that you’re going to start working again. “Whatever.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs while looking over at your friend. “I don’t mind that she takes them because they always smell good when she gives them back. What’s the detergent that you use, (Y/N)? I like the citrus scent.”

Jungkook practically chokes on his chips at Namjoon’s words, feet kicking yours under the table while you feel your face heat up. You can’t even bring yourself to say anything and your heart feels like it’s about to jump right out of your chest. “That’s not detergent,” Jungkook rasps after gulping down water, tears still in the corners of his eyes. “That’s her perfume.”

“Oh.” The tips of Namjoon’s ears are red. When he turns to look at you, you see his Adam’s apple bob. “Well then I guess I’ll just have to give you more of my clothes.”

Kim Namjoon will be the death of you.

bonus:

[raguna-blade]

So this just occurred to me to think about but shared symbols in the persona series. I’m sure there are others that I miss, especially relevant to the first two games, and right now i’m looking at just the one, but there should be SOME right?

And in this case the one i’m thinking about is glasses. So in persona 4, the glasses the characters wear are used specifically to be able to see through the fog in the other world, that is to be able to better navigate the world that is hidden and obscured right?

Heck, a critical scene in the game shows the absurd difference wearing them makes early on and Narukami hot flinging them away in the final scene is an indication of him more or less coming to fully understand the situation and having “true” sight of what’s going on around him. Which is cool!

But what’s interesting is that none of the Investigation team actually wear glasses in their day to day which is fine really. It’s as much a design thing as a story beat but what i’m getting at is going into persona 5 then, there can be this expectation that if one is wearing glasses they have a degree of special insight/ability to see things as they really are right? Not strictly, but as part of the same story family it’s not like those symbols disappear as a thing in play strictly, they just wouldn’t be emphasized because that’s not really the theme here.

So it’s interesting to me then that every single character who wears glasses normally in this game (with normal including their metaverse selves should they have one) demonstrably has special insight into the world or events going on, or else just general insight. Literally all of them, i’m not joking.

We’ll go in order here, Phantom Thieves>Allies>Foes>Maruki, and there’s probably more i could go into here but for the moment it’s kinda idle thoughts so forgive that.

Protag: So the thing to note is that his glasses are fake right so that may off the bat give you the vibe that this is wrong but well, that literally doesn’t matter for our purposes here. That Protag definitely has special insight into the world and events however is inarguable. Having been cast out of the standard safety net of society he gets a front row seat to a lot of weird things that aren’t immediately obvious. He see’s through the masks of all of the targets to some greater or lesser degree (admittedly not unique to him, but the thieves as a whole), get’s to understand to workings of the world and how it specifically fails outcasts, has inside knowledge on several of the major players (Shido, Maruki and Akechi most notably) that isn’t immediately obvious that they themselves aren’t aware of all the time, and as seen through the Confidants specifically he’s a remarkable judge of character and an expert and understanding people, something he does consistently.

That his glasses are fake actually, now that I think about it, is actually an interesting trait here. They exist solely to put him under the radar, which actually works so there’s that element of understanding appearances, but the fact that he really DOES NOT actually need the glasses to “see” the world accurately perhaps rolls back to his Designated Role as the Trickster (or at least one of them, We will get to Akechi in a second), and his ability to understand how the world works or specifically does not.

Akechi: Akechi is interesting here because in the real world he doesn’t wear glasses, as Prince!Crow he doesn’t either. So...Where does he wear glasses?

As Black Mask. And notably, they’re red tinted lenses, which actually lines up with another thing here. He does have true insight (and he’s sharp as hell we can’t possibly deny that) but he also, notably, has a crazy distorted view of things. As was kinda pointed out during his whole mental break down in the boat, he didn’t have to do like...any of the fucked up things that he did to achieve his goals. Even if he still wanted to kill his dad or just ruin his life he didn’t have to do it the way he did. He’s, one, literally seeing red, but two for all that his vision is keen it’s also more than a little distorted.

But also, as the other Trickster, the more destructive one at that, he also has keen understanding of the world and how it works, breaks down, and utterly screws over those who fall outside of it. Indeed, his insight is miles better than Our protags given he was more or less kicked out of the system from the get go due to family matters and had to actively claw his way back into the system in the first place. But of course, going back to his red lenses, as opposed to Akira who more or less rejects the system and wants to see it broken down one way or the other, Akechi desires to be part of it despite knowing intimately it’s copious failings. He has the vision and the ability to see but also fails to act on it (a thing he explicitly states more or less)

Futaba: Futaba is perhaps the most straightforward here. Does she have inside knowledge of events? Some, given her understanding of Cognitive Psience for sure, but her talents lean specifically in computer stuff, and the varying ways of getting information and such there. Of everyone here her glasses as symbol match up the cleanest with the Persona 4 use, in that her clear view vision is related to the world of cyberspace and how all of that works. That they carry over into her Rebellion outfit likely has to do with her understanding of cognitive psience as well, which while (relatively) basic is still far better than pretty much everyone else in the cast save 1 or maybe 2. It’s worth pointing out that, if I recall things correctly, she basically was the one who put together that entire escape plan for Joker to not get hot shot in the face.

Sumire: Now here’s a fun one! She doesn’t get her glasses until the very very end of the game, when she stops being Kasumi and starts being herself. Another straightforward one in two ways. One, she is able to actually accurately percieve herself as herself indicating clear and unobstructed vision for her self. Easy peasey, but also, of the group she’s the one who most understands what Maruki is doing and why. Despite having issues with his end game, she also makes it abundantly clear that if it weren’t for what he did she probably would have killed herself. It’s an understanding that the others have a little of, but they also don’t have quite as deeply for as long as it went on with her.

Ohya: Straightforward again. She’s an investigative reporter, and a damn good one. She was on her way to cracking something with Madarame, before the story even began she and her partner had some dirt on Shido (which seems on one hand easy cause Shido is kinda sloppy, but also considering the range of influence he has even getting a bit is wild), knows Kaneshiro as a mafia boss despite him not really being arrested, and yeah she just get’s it. She’s sharp.

It’s also noticeable that her glasses are also distorted, in that they’re sunglasses.That’s not “clear” vision since they shift colors. Obviously, she’s going to see things a bit off, and in her case it’s less general insight and more specific to her present circumstances. Relating to sunglasses, at the start of confidant she’s stuck working entertainment stuff which she hates and isn’t fond of, but she doesn’t feel she has other options or the ability to follow her true passions in journalism. And she’s not...really wrong actually. She does have a correct view of the situation, because if she doesn’t stick to what’s what, she’s going to lose her job, but at the same time the degree of resignation is well also wrong, as she get’s into pretty quickly. She still has options, but at the moment she couldn’t really see em.

That they are amber sunglasses and she’s seemingly a depressed drunk i’m sure has no relation.

Sojiro: Sojiro is straightforward really. He understands the world, how it works, how it breaks down, how various things look, has a keen insight into people and events in general, and has insight on the main villain specifically. He’s not exactly trying to upset things no, but he’s made the system work for him to have a peaceful life with his daughter and ward, which is perhaps super impressive given how absolutely obnoxiously petty Shido is.

Kunikazu Okumura: Very simple, he knows exactly who’s involved with the conspiracy. Also tied with that, as he’s also a member of the conspiracy, is a knowledge of how the world as it is works, for better or worse. Like...It’s fucked up, but unambiguously everything he does do actually does advance his goals. As much as it hurt people, as much as it hurt his daughter, it worked. It’s awful, but it worked.

Shido: So...Shido is interesting. He’s especially interesting in comparison to the last glasses boy Maruki, but Shido is interesting especially because well...

Shido is right? Like, his view of the world as it is is kind of unambiguously correct. People in power have the ability to manipulate and reshape the world as they please, avoid the consequences of their actions, the world really is going to shit, and he has the ability to save whoever he wants, and he has connections and power that would allow him to basically reshape things as he see’s fit.

He’s unambiguously correct in this. He understands the world and the systems at play intimately. He understands the people he works with Intimately, to the extent that not only are their cognitive forms almost indistinguishable from absolutely normal humans, but they behave in ways that don’t even necessarily benefit him even in their assigned roles in the cognitive space. I mean look at the Cleaner. He damn near let the phantom thieves walk if Yusuke would have agreed to be his personal artist, and the moment he got his ass whooped he just left.

It is, frankly, a terrifying amount of insight.

But again, his glasses are off color. His view of the situation is, in some way, incorrect, despite this insight. So where does he go wrong?

Once again, as seems to be the case with all of the tinted glasses now that i think about it, the issue lies in self reflection. His view of the outside world and such is correct, but where he makes his biggest mistake lies in both his view of himself as untouchable (he’s not) and that his method of salvation is at all the only one available, or even perhaps tenable.

The second point is perhaps the more critical one. Had Shido used his connections, insight and knowledge for good he could very easily change the situation that was leading to the disaster that he saw himself saving others from. He could make things better if he wanted to, if he thought to, but his failing is that he didn’t and perhaps couldn’t. And critically, his belief that he and his would be able to be safe on that ship for any period of time when the world around it has been utterly devastated is well...short sighted.

Maruki: Last but not least, Maruki. While his insight isn’t perhaps as broad about things, what he knows and what he talks about is...Well. It’s another version of Salvation for sure, but it’s one that the phantom thieves and I think the players have to argue with. Maruki says it extremely clear, it’s better for you to overcome your hardships yourself, it’s better to face your problems head on and fix them that way....But sometimes you can’t. Sometimes you really just cannot do it, you cannot surmount the challenge no matter how much you may need or want to, sometimes you’re just going to be broken and hurt and in incalculable pain and that’s extremely fucked up.And if that’s the case, if that’s how the world is, shouldn’t it change? If the system is broken, if the way the world is is wrong, shouldn’t it be changed?

It’s not unlike the phantom thieves, although the direction and end goal are different.

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 8

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~7,100

Warnings: Drugs, smut

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand

Okay, so I know that this isn’t exactly how a contact high works, but I wanted the funny moment. Suspend your disbelief a little further than it already is for me.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

“No,” she said, jabbing a finger at Javier, “I’m not doing this.”

“C’mon,” he replied, gesturing with both hands, “It’ll be a half hour, max.”

She sneered, occupying her hands with packing her bag instead of punching him like she wanted to. He was smiling in that way he did when he knew that he would get his way.  A self satisfied smirk that made her want to throw something at him.

“A half hour of your time. You’ll walk in, look around, walk out.”

Eva glared at him, “I have plans.”

And, she did. Though his evenings were often spent working into the night, Eva had been out with him several times over the last few weeks. She was looking forward to yet another night checking herself for talking too much and watching him smile wide enough that she could see his dimples.

“Push ‘em back.”

She scoffed, “I’m not pushing back plans to work in the field, which you remember that I’m not supposed to be doing.”

He waved her off, “It’ll be fine.  You’re walking into a bar, looking around, and walking out.”

“I’m not walking into any bar!”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

Eva spun around, letting out a breath as Horacio slowed to a stop, his jacket over one arm.

“Hey,” she said, her voice a hitch pitched wheeze. “I’m just gonna...finish packing up.”

He eyed the others in the room, “What’s going on?”

Steve, who had been silent for nearly the whole argument, pushed from his position against his desk, “We got a lead on a back end shipment of drugs—low level, nothing serious. And, we thought since Eva is so good at sniffing these things out, she could maybe stop by the bar and see if she could pin point where they were stashing them.”

“So basically,” Eva added, sarcasm in her voice, “They want me to do their job for them.”

Javier ran a hand over his face, “That’s not what we’re asking you to do.”

Eva glared at him a second time, one hand on her hip.

“You are good at it,” Horacio offered.

She turned her glare on him, “You’re on their side?”

He held up a hand defensively, “I’m not on sides, just stating facts.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Okay, listen. Eva, you just go in, look around, leave. You don’t even have to order a drink. Half an hour, tops.”

Her mouth thinned as she looked at all three men, who were apparently agreeing with one another. Although they’d had plenty of arguments, it was the first time they were all on the same side and it was...disconcerting.

Horacio slipped his arms into his jacket, “Half an hour. And, she gets the day off tomorrow.  Javi, you’ll cover for her. Tell them you sent files to her apartment or something.”

Okay, maybe he was a little on her side.

Javier nodded, “Done.”

“Good, what’s the address?”

Eva blinked, wondering what the fuck had just happened. She watched as Horacio listened to the address, grabbed her purse, and guided her out of the office.  It took her until they were on the road for her brain to finally catch up.

“Did you just negotiate a paid day off for me?”

He glanced over at her and smiled, “You need it. They’re working you too hard.”

“You’re one to talk about working too hard.”

This was true.  Even when he was supposed to be relaxed, his mind would still wander away to work periodically. She could by the way his eyes went just a little cold. There was nothing to be done about it. This was the toll the work took on a person, no matter how strong.

“Point taken,” he retorted, pulling into a parking lot.

The bar looked like any other, populated by locals, busy. She squinted at it, wondering how they got shipments in and out.

“Listen,” she said, reaching out to touch his forearm, “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I was frustrated that I keep getting pulled into these things, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, “You’re fine. And, you should be frustrated because you’re right. You’re doing their leg work.”

Eva turned her gaze back to the bar, “I don’t actually mind doing a little reconnaissance, but I’m supposed to be spending time with someone I like, not warding off advances from drunk assholes while I try to figure out where the drugs are coming in at.”

Horacio’s grip on her hand tightened a fraction, “I think I can help with that.”

She looked at him, intrigued, “Yeah?”

He hummed in assent, turning her hand over and pressing his mouth the inside of her wrist. Eva felt her breath stutter as he kissed it gently, his eyes finding hers and holding. He rolled his tongue over the sensitive skin, tasting. Her breath stopped entirely. He gave her wrist another little kiss, then reached for her other hand. He was marking her and she was letting him. It surprised her how little that bothered her in that moment. She was even excited about the thought of carrying his scent with her into that bar. There wouldn’t be a single man in there, alpha or otherwise, who wouldn’t know she was with someone, despite the fact that she was clearly unmated.  

Eva shivered, her mouth parting on a soft moan. Unable to stand it a moment longer, she leaned over and kissed him. The position was a little awkward, the console digging into her hip, but well worth the discomfort.  She started to pull back and he stopped her.

Against her mouth, he said, “Half an hour.  After that, I’m coming in after you.”

Shaking her head, she teased, “Won’t that be a little suspicious, me coming in, looking around, and leaving with the police. You’re like a minor celebrity here, you know.”

He lifted a brow, “I’ll make it look like an arrest.”

At this she laughed, leaning back into the seat, “You just want to see if I can still get out of the cuffs.  Admit it.”

Releasing her, he regarded her with a curious gaze, “I admit that I really want to know how you learned to do it.”

Eva opened the door, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll never tell.”

She caught him saying ‘we’ll see about that’ as she shut the door and headed for the entrance. The place was pretty standard, as far as bars went.  There was a band playing, so she could count on almost everyone being at least a little distracted by the music.  At least, distracted enough not to notice that she wasn’t drinking and wasn’t dancing.  She made a circuit around the room, trying to think of how she would have hidden an illegal shipment back in the day.

It certainly wouldn’t have been at a bar. Josh had been against establishments like this, thought they were places for degenerates. Fifteen years later and she could finally roll her eyes at the hypocrisy of his entire personality. It felt like a big middle finger to even the memory of him to be frequenting bars—it was one of the first things she did when she was released.

But, where would she hide something she didn’t want to be found in a place like this.  Not behind the bar. Bartenders couldn’t always be trusted, too much turnover, too easy to buy. Not in the store room, too much traffic. Eva made another lap, pretending to be looking at the art on the walls. There had to be an office.

She went to the back and had to dodge one of the staff by stepping into the bathroom. So she had time to think, she went into one of the stalls and sat. The place looked clean, at least from the outside.  She couldn’t even find an entrance that would support a trailer backing up to it to move the goods. Although, it would be smart to access from underground...

Standing, she gave the toilet an unnecessary flush and left the bathroom, moving further down the hall. The office door was open a crack, and she took a moment to check to see if anyone was watching before she touched the door to open it further. Empty. Empty and boring.

With a huff, Eva stood next to the emergency exit and leaned against the wall, staring at a picture of a dog. Just an ordinary dog standing at attention. It looked...bland. Like it had been purchased at a big box store and hung without ceremony. Which, made her think it was odd.  The rest of the art in the place was from local artists, price tags written in neat handwriting beside each one.

The dog was looking at something out of the frame. Eva followed the direction of its snout to...a window. It was covered in a frosty film to obscure the outside. She stood on tip toes to see if she could see where it was pointing, both hands leaning into the sill—which moved.

Did everyone have a thing about hidden doors in this country?

Looking over her shoulder, Eva stepped inside.  She was not alone. The room was small, basically a cupboard, but it led to another room where a pair of men were talking. Talking and toking. The smell of weed was pungent enough that her nose wrinkled. Although Eva had been pretty well inured to pot while she was with Josh, she hadn’t had a moment that she didn’t feel watched by her superiors since she’d signed the contract. Any opportunity she had to partake was overshadowed by the possibility of a drug test. Every breath she took made her want to cough. She held it in before taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep her cover.

She couldn’t understand a word they were saying, but Eva was able to duck down enough that she could see inside the room they were talking in. They were sitting in lawn chairs, passing a blunt between them, the smoke billowing out towards her due to the fans that were running lazily nearby.

Eva squinted, they were...thawing ice.  Gigantic ice cubes sat on a table, little kiddie pools sitting below them to catch the runoff. She stared at them and almost laughed. They’d frozen the weed into ice cubes in an attempt to mask the smell. That was definitely new. She sat for a few minutes, trying to see if she could spot a company name that they were shipping under. She got nothing.

Knowing that she was on borrowed time, Eva backed up and peered out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before she stepped out of the little cupboard and closed the door behind her. She exited the bar in the least suspicious way she could manage, finally giving in to the urge to cough as she made it outside.

Across the parking lot, she could see that Carrillo was watching for her. With quick steps, she headed for him, climbing up into the truck.

“You see anything interesting?” he asked as she pulled the seat belt over her torso.

Eva nodded, “Let’s maybe get a few blocks from here before I start explaining.”

He turned the engine over, “Javier and Steve are not too far away.”

“Good,” she said, wondering why her eyes were so damn dry. “They can write up the report.”

Eva rubbed carefully at her eyes, trying not to disturb her mascara. She just felt...dry. Her eyes, her throat.

“You okay?”

She blinked, “Yeah, I’m okay. Allergies.”

He was right, Javier and Steve weren’t far away, a matter of a few blocks and one four way stop. They were sitting at an outdoor cafe, drinking beer. Eva took the one that was offered to her, drinking deep.  It was a moment before she realized that they were waiting for her to talk.

“Oh, right,” she said, setting the bottle down. “I mean, pretty simple operation. They’ve got a false door behind the window in the back by the picture of the dog.  They’re putting the product in ice to conceal the smell, although I don’t know that it would fool a trained dog. Back room is where they melt it down, probably where they weigh it, too.”

Javier stared at her, “That’s it.”

She frowned, “I’m sorry, has it escaped your notice that I’ve now found two caches of illegal substances? I know you were looking for coke and not pot, but ‘That’s it?’ Seriously?”

Even Eva could admit to herself that she was snapping at him, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. This would have been a perfect night for a date. A little balmy, warm enough that she didn’t need a jacket.  She could have gone to that bar to dance with Horacio, but no, she went to sneak around. The whole thing annoyed her.

Javier rolled his eyes, “Thank you.”

“That was really sincere. I appreciate the sincerity,” her tone was biting.

He frowned, “What is with you today?”

Eva breathed deep and dropped her head into her hands. Horacio’s scent was still there, a warm, sweet thing that mellowed her ire. She inhaled it in an attempt to distract herself.

“Nothing,” she said, eventually, “Just, forget about it.”

And, that seemed to satisfy him, if no one else at the table.  Steve was eyeing her with that curious expression he used when he wanted to ask a question, but wouldn’t. Beside her, Horacio laid a hand on her hip with just the slightest pressure. She leaned into it, grateful for the support.

“We could raid it tonight,” Javier said as he lit a cigarette.

Dear God, Eva thought with ire, I might as well go home now. Any hope she might have had of picking up their date was gone. At least she’d get to sleep with his scent wrapped around her, if not his body. He’d make sure she got home, kiss her goodnight, and then go off to raid a bar. She’d be a little lonely, but that stupid hope for a better tomorrow would be there. It would have been sad, except this same situation had happened once before, over and over when she’d been married—different players, same game—and Eva found that karma was certainly one hell of a bitch.

It said something for her state of mind that she didn’t realize she was laughing until her stomach started hurting. She drew in a breath, dropping her hands to the table.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she breathed, “I’ve just had the worst case of déjà vu.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “You want to share with the class?”

Eva shook her head, “Nope.”

It was then that Eva knew something wasn’t right. She usually wasn’t this argumentative—stubborn, yes, but not outright argumentative. She had better manners than that—oh, fuck. Eva closed her eyes and tried not to freak out. It was just a tiny contact high. She could manage it—in front of a high ranking police officer and two DEA agents. This was doable. She kept her head down, just in case.

“You want to make the call?” Javier said when she didn’t elaborate.

Horacio shrugged, “I’m off tonight. It’ll be there tomorrow.”

Eva could tell by the way Javier’s eyes narrowed that this was an unusual response. Hell, she was even surprised by it. Her sense of karma evaporated as quickly as it came and she had to keep herself from staring open mouthed at him. Javier threw back the rest of his beer and stood, walking away without saying anything.

Steve rolled his eyes, “We’ll call you in the morning to work it out. Thanks, Eva.”

“No problem,” Eva called out, waving as she watched him walk off. Then, “I think you pissed him off.”

Horacio shrugged, “I’m not wrong. It will be there tomorrow.”

“I didn’t say you were wrong,” Eva replied, “But I am surprised by it.”

He helped her to stand, leading her back to the truck, “Which part?”

“Hmm?” She was distracted by the feeling of his hand guiding her to where he’d parked.

“Which part are you surprised by?”

She leaned against the side of the truck, looking him over, “You’re a get up and go kind of guy. You don’t put things off until tomorrow.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “You’re right, I don’t.” Then, he added, “In the interest of not putting things off, do you want to tell me what that was back there?”

Eva could feel the blush heat her cheeks, and she couldn’t keep her mouth from smiling stupidly. She looked down, trying to cover it.

“No,” he said, stepping forward and grasping her chin. “Don’t start doing that. Is it an inside thought?”

She giggled, “No. Its not an inside thought.”

“Then, what?” He caught her eye, saying her name in a slow, cajoling tone, “Tell me.”

Huffing, Eva bit down on the inside of her cheek, “They had a lot of pot in there. I mean, a metric fuck ton.”

She tried to go on, but found the explanation that formed in her mind to be too stupid, even internally. How was she supposed to verbalize it without it sounding equally stupid?

His pulled back a bit, analyzing her expression with half a smile, “I haven’t seen you this flustered since that meeting in the conference room. Its cute.”

“Oh, don’t call me cute,” Eva bit out, but she couldn’t maintain the facade of anger, devolving into little giggles as he looked at her in wonder. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

She inhaled, letting her head fall to his chest, her hands running down his arms to thread her fingers through his.

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

“I promise.”

“In the bar, while I was scoping out the back, I had to sit there for a few minutes. And… there was a lot of smoke.”

She hated the way her voice pitched upwards at the end of the sentence, as if it were a question. She hated even more that she couldn’t look at him when she said it.

It started with a blown out breath and then he was holding his breath for several beats.  Even with her forehead resting against him, she knew that he was working to hold off a laugh.

“I knew it,” she cried out, looking up at him, “I knew you would laugh. I have a contact high and you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” he said as he definitely laughed.

“You are,” Eva shot back, crossing her arms.

He cupped her cheek, “Don’t pout.”

She tilted her face up when he drew her in for a kiss, arms wrapping around his middle to keep him close. He kissed her softly, and she could feel him trying not to smile into it. Feeling not a little vengeful, she nipped at him, soothing it just a little with a swipe of her tongue.

“Its late,” he said between kisses, “Let me take you home.”

Eva was grateful that she was leaned up against the truck, her balance a little off, which was par for the course whenever they kissed.  It was like as soon as their lips touched, she got a sudden rush of wild vertigo that made her dizzy in the best way. She hoped that feeling never faded. A stupid, unrelenting hope.

As they drove through the streets, she watched the buildings pass by, the wheels of her mind working.

“I can hear you thinking over there,” he said at a stoplight, looking over at her.

Eva ducked her head and blushed, “Yes, I’m thinking.”

“What about?”

The light turned green, but his eyes stayed on her and his foot remained on the brake.  She glanced behind them. The road was empty.

“Um,” she began, “I was thinking that sooner or later we should probably acknowledge the obvious.”

He turned a little, resting his forearm on the console, “What is that?”

“That I am an omega and that you are an alpha. That just about any time I spend with you drives me absolutely crazy.”

He observed her with a curious look in his eye, “Is this good or bad?”

She smiled, “Good, very good. At least I think so.”

He regarded her curiously, “Then, why would we need to acknowledge it.”

Eva leveled a sardonic look at him, “You marked me today, Horacio. You knew what you were doing when you did it.”

“I did.”

It relieved her that he wasn’t going to evade the conversation. She’d never done this before, and his straightforward attitude made her push forward despite the unsteadiness in her voice.

“I was brought up to believe that...meant something.”

She felt herself holding her breath a little. Eva had been out of society on and off since age fourteen, she hadn’t bothered to really learn the ins and outs of these kinds of relationships. She hadn’t thought she would need it.

The light turned yellow, then red.

“Is this the weed talking?”

Eva barked out a laugh, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, “No, no. It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

She’d given him an out, and part of her hoped that he would take it.  Another part of her hoped that he’d at least give her some idea of what this was.

“Eva, do you remember what I said when we met at the church? That I couldn’t breathe when I first met you?”

Nodding, Eva kept quiet, barely managing to quash the feeling bubbling up inside her. She needed a clear head for this, needed to make sure she didn’t allow herself to get carried away.

He licked his lips, his eyes searching her face, “Do you know what I also felt? When you were telling us about your husband? I felt rage. Sitting in front of me is the most delicious omega I’ve ever met and someone thought they could lay hands on her.” His hand flexed on the wheel, his scent sharpening. “And when you said you’d killed him for it, I thought to myself, ‘she doesn’t need protection’.”

The light turned green and he let off the brake, the car picking up acceleration.

“But, I wanted to give it to you, anyways.”

Eva searched for words, finding nothing.  She settled on, “Really?”

He nodded, reaching over to take her hand, “Then, you saved my ass in the bar fight.”

“I think that was more of a gunfight,” she commented, feeling warm all over.

“It was both,” he asserted, giving her hand a little squeeze, “You still kept me from getting shot.”

Eva scoffed, “I also threw a Molotov cocktail and set the place on fire.”

Horacio laughed, releasing her hand to pull into her neighborhood.  He took it back almost immediately, “That was inventive.”

She shrugged, “I wouldn’t have done it if I thought the table would hold.”

He rolled a shoulder, “That table was not going to hold. It was basically plywood.”

“You’re right,” she agreed as her apartment building came into view, “It was shit.”

He parked, got out, and circled to open the door for her. She tried not to smile too wide when he held her hand up to her door. She reached into her purse and pulled out her key, opening the lock.

“Do you,” she started, fortifying her courage, “Want to come in?”

He tilted her chin up, looking at her for a few seconds. Eva’s eyes narrowed in confusion before she scoffed, pulling her chin away.

“I’m fine. I was the smallest bit high for, like, fifteen minutes. I’ve got full control over my faculties.” A moment later, she amended, “Well, as much control as I ever do around you.”

When he didn’t answer, she touched his chest, “Listen, if you don’t want to, I understand.”

His hand came up and gripped her wrist, “I’ve told you before that you shouldn’t mistake restraint for a lack of want.”

“Okay,” she breathed, “So, are you going to follow through on that want?”

Horacio pushed her back into the apartment, closing the door behind him. She went willingly, dropped her bag to the side. She sighed into a welcome kiss, draping her arms over his shoulders.

Pulling away, he held up a finger, “One thing: I need you to let me lead. I’ll make sure you feel good, but let me set the pace.”

Lips parted, Eva felt a kind of fervent gratitude that quickly morphed into affection, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

He watched her for a second before he leaned down and kissed her again, their tongues tangling together. Eva felt her body go lax, most of her weight leaning into him. She let him lead her backwards, his hands pulling her close. The steps were small and slow, interspersed with deep, lazy kisses.

As they moved down the hall, he pulled her blouse up and out of her skirt, slipping his hands underneath. Eva groaned as he cupped her breasts over her bra, kneading the flesh. He was taking his time with her, his touches patient, thorough. It was driving her crazy.

Maneuvering her into the bedroom, Horacio finally pulled her blouse over her head, tossing it aside. He gripped her hips, eyeing her skirt.

“You’ve worn this skirt before,” he said raggedly, “I’ve had dreams about this skirt.”

Hands moving quickly, he pulled the zipper down and pushed the fabric to the floor. Eva, in an attempt to quell the little bit of nervousness that she was feeling, tugged at the polo he had tucked into his pants. She struggled to get it up and over his shoulders, too preoccupied with the way he was palming her ass. Taking pity on her, he reached behind him and pulled it up and over his head.

Oh, that is not fair, she thought, her mouth suddenly dry. The man dressed like a middle aged dad, halfway to a mid-life crisis—all khakis and variations of a polo shirt—and it was hiding such a strong, sensuous body.  Eva knew he was powerful, had felt the firm press of muscle when he held her, but dear God, he was gorgeous all over.

Helping her down to the bed, he knelt in front of the mattress, kissing up her stomach as his fingers unsnapped her bra. It went the way of her other clothing, followed by her panties.

“Lean back,” he said in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

She slowly let her weight fall to the bed as he parted her thighs. There wasn’t much light in the room, just what was filtered in from the open door to the hall and the streetlights from the window. But, in it, she could see him staring at her, tongue rolling over his bottom lip. More than a little self conscious, she tried to close her legs, eyes diverted.

Fingers tightening on her knees, his eyes flicked up to her, “No.”

A simple directive. An order from an alpha that Eva had no hope of disobeying.  Her hips opened and her legs fell to the side. If she wasn’t anticipating his next move so much, she might have had it in her to figure out a way to wipe the smirk off his face.

It faded soon enough. The first touch of his mouth on her shocked Eva so much that she jerked, her hips pulling back. Making a sound of displeasure, he grabbed her hips and pulled her to the end of the bed, hooking her legs over his shoulders. His hands pressed onto her stomach, holding her still as he laid his tongue flat against her, licking from bottom to top in one long stripe. Eva tried to calm her breathing, her fingers digging into the comforter below her. The heat of his mouth coupled with the confidence in every movement made for a heady combination.

Moaning lowly, he sucked each of her lips in turn, moving back and forth, tongue dipping inside before starting again. Over and over in slow, meticulous succession, until Eva was rolling her hips up, trying to get more friction. His thumb moved to circle her clit, rubbing around it, avoiding the tightest bundle of nerves.

She whined, carding her hand into his curls, trying to wordlessly urge him to give her more. He seemed to hear her—in the next second, he was pushing two fingers into her in one slow, careful thrust. Her breath caught in her throat, releasing on a high pitched moan when he shifted up and gave a firm suck to her clit. And then another. And another. Her eyes closed, losing all control over her body. Her heels dug into his back as she used as much leverage as she could to get closer.

Nose pushing into her pubic bone, Horacio added a third finger, the stretch burning despite how obscenely wet she was. Eva’s eyes rolled back, the orgasm clenching down on him hard. She cried out, a hoarse sound that he echoed as he buried his face deeper between her thighs, tongue rolling over her folds eagerly.

He eased her legs down, lightly massaging her thighs before he rose to lean over her.  Eva was still catching her breath when he kissed up the column of her throat and over to her scent gland, sucking gently on it. She gave a reedy moan, body curling up and around him.

He shushed her, easing her back down onto the bed. More kisses, a gentle massage against her folds that had her already simmering arousal making a slow ascent upwards once more. Needy and wanting more, Eva grabbed the back of his neck, arching her body into his. It was then that she realized he was still wearing the goddamned khakis. She pulled away, pushing her fingers beneath his belt buckle, pulling the leather through the bar and managing to get the it loose before he grabbed both of her hands.

“I told you that you needed to let me lead, Eva,” he grumbled, looking down at her with censure.

She bit her lip, fingers curling into little fists as she waited for...she didn’t know what. Would he stop?

Making a soft tsking sound, he pushed her hair from her face, “I’m going to get you ready, okay?”

Eva laughed softly, “I just came, Horacio. I think I’m ready.”

Shaking his head, he pulled one of her hands down, flattening her palm against the fly of his pants. She let him hold her there, curving her fingers over the shape of him. Her smile faded just a little as the mapped him. Although she might say that he was average in length, in width—well, fuck. Her body clenched as she thought about how tightly he would fill her up, how he might not even fit.

In a rush of determination, Eva slipped the button of his fly loose and pushed her hand down between his pants and underwear. He hissed as she gave him a slow, firm stroke. Her original assessment was correct, he would fill her absolutely to the brim. The thought intimidated her as much as it excited her.

Leaning down next to her ear, he asked, “Do you understand why I need to lead this?” His grip tightened ever so slightly, “I need to make sure you’re ready.”

He pushed her hand away, resting his weight on one arm so that he could open her back up to his touch.  Carefully, Horacio slipped two, then three, fingers inside her, spreading them to stretch her folds open. She groaned at the feeling, eyes closing. The gentle exploration quickly grew in intensity, his thumb giving a firm stroke to her clit with every thrust. Eva writhed in the sheets, unable to stay still. The feeling built upon itself, spiraling up and out of her. It was harder than the first, deeper in a way that had her gritting her teeth.

Sweat had pooled over her chest and hips, her heart hammering in her throat. She felt too wound up and boneless at the same time. His fingers slipped from her sopping folds as he shifted to the side. He placed little kisses over her skin, eyes looking over her body with something akin to pride.

“Good?”

She nodded, not quite able to speak, lips dry. As she gained some feeling back into her body, Eva rolled a little and hooked the fingers of one hand into his pants, tugging at them. He took her meaning and slipped them off leaving him in boxer briefs that were damp with precum. She kissed his chest, tracing the pad of her thumb over the crown of him. He only let her touch him for a short time, the muscles of his body tight with restraint. When she wriggled her hand inside to get at skin, he stopped her.

Holding both wrists down beside her head, Horacio rolled atop her, settling his hips between her thighs. Eva wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him sink as deep as possible to the cradle of her hips, a welcome weight.

He kissed her briefly, “Condom?”

Eva nodded, pointing to the nightstand. He was all perfunctory movements as he opened the drawer, pulled out the condom, shoved off the last of his clothing, and rolled it on. She was glad for it as it gave her an excellent view of him fully naked for the first time.

Wanting to touch him, she sat up and brushed her hands over his strong thighs, filing away the image of sitting atop them for later. He cupped the back of her neck, kissing her as he urged her to lay back, his body covering her.

“Slow,” he said between kisses, “We go slow.”

Eva was absolutely on board for that, still feeling a little timidity about the size of him. She hadn’t been with anyone since coming to her new assignment, so she knew she’d need a little time to adjust. Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, Eva forced her body to relax.

“Slow,” he reiterated as he lined himself up.

The first push made her rethink her choices that night, and she couldn’t keep from closing her eyes against the burn. Fuck, but she wanted it. She tucked her chin into the curve of his neck, breathing long, slow breaths.

Groaning, Horacio adjusted his weight and pushed a little deeper. Just when Eva thought she couldn’t stretch any further, there was more of him easing inside. Though she tried to stop it, a little sound escaped her throat.

He stopped, lifting just a bit to check her expression, and she could see him working to make a decision, strain behind his eyes. Then, he pulled out and rolled over to his back.

“C’mere.”

Though she was still a little shaky, Eva crawled over him, straddling his hips. He helped her tilt up and then back down again. Using her hands on his chest for balance, she tried to let gravity ease her down. Despite how wet she was, she could only take a few inches before she had to stop and focus on her breathing.

“I don’t think I can,” she admitted after a few shallow thrusts.

He rose and wrapped his arms around her, “You can, you can.”

When she faltered, he buried his nose in her hair, cradling most of her weight and taking the motion from her. Up and down. Nice and easy. Just a little more every time. With every stroke, the burn eased just a little, until she was giving him tiny rolls of her hips, until tingles of sensation overcame the stretch of her body. Needing to, she kissed him, sighing into his mouth when she sank down so smoothly that the little gains that they had been making suddenly became one generous thrust.

Eva gasped, hips swiveling.

His eyes widened as he looked down at where they were joined, “Good?”

She nodded, “I’m good. So good.”

Another rise and fall, and she was gripping the back of his neck, widening her stance to take him all the way to the base where she ground down hard. He hissed, arms tightening so that there was not an inch of space between them. It stunted her movements, and Eva found herself wanting desperately to keep the steady rise of pleasure.

Small, but growing whimpers sounded from her lips, her body’s movements liquid and burning. She wanted more, and she wanted it now. Horacio’s hold on her kept the pace maddeningly slow, but so goddamn steady that it anchored her to him.

“I’m so full,” she bit out, her head dropping to his shoulder in near defeat, “You fill me up.”

Below her, he let out a harsh breath, followed by a sharp inhale and long, agonized groan. His hips pushed up hard, just once grinding into her before beginning that steady pace again, if only a little faster. She was glad he had some control because her mouth had started up and there was no hope that she was going to be able to stop it at this point.

“Fuck, you feel so good inside me,” she said on an exhale, her voice cracking.

He kissed her hard, bracing one hand against the mattress, to get more leverage, hips arching off the bed. The release of his hold gave Eva all she needed to begin meeting him in the middle. With a low whine, she angled her hips and drove down on him, her jaw loosening when he hit every spot inside her that made her squirm.

His forehead pressed against her, nose pressed into her cheek, Horacio swallowed audibly, saying, “Mmph—fuck, slow. Eva, slow.”

The words seemed forced out of him, his voice hoarse. Eva kept going, pulling away to get a good look at his face. His brows were drawn together, mouth open and wet, sweat on his temples.  He looked...fucking wrecked. She could see in that moment how hard he was trying not to come, and it made a shot of determination zing through her. He could have made that directive an order, could have asserted himself as the alpha, but he hadn’t. This gave her an opening that she was all too eager to take.

Kissing him, she pushed at his shoulders, following him down and slowing the drive of her hips.  She gave him sweet, lazy kisses until the tension in his body lessened enough that she felt confident he believed that she was listening to him. Then, she sat up, and called on the last remaining vestiges of her energy.

She started with slow undulations that ended with that little grind that he favored. But, Eva was not a patient woman, and she was soon riding him as she had been before. His hands flew to her hips, but he didn’t stop her. Just the opposite. He pulled her down to meet him, head thrown back to expose the strong column of his neck—a staccato ‘ah, ah, ah’ sounding each time their hips met.

Impossibly, he hardened further, until his grasp tightened to bruising and she felt him pulse inside her. He groaned in the back of his throat, eyes shut. Eva smiled down at him, thinking that he was gorgeous even when he was coming, especially when he was coming.

After a few more shallow thrusts, she eased off him and to the side, watching him catch his breath as hers returned to normal. Reaching down, he slipped off the condom, tying it off and leaning over the bed to toss it in a waste basket she kept nearby.

Eva didn’t touch him when he laid back down, though she wanted to. She wanted to lay her head on his chest and hear his heartbeat, curl up next to him while they dozed. A much stronger part of her kept her hands to herself, not knowing what he wanted.

Horacio leaned his weight on an elbow reached out to tucked her sweaty hair from her face. Charmed by the gesture, she turned and kissed his palm, holding it to her briefly before letting go. He shuffled closer, gathering her to his body, the backs of his fingers tracing one long line down the length of her.

On the upstroke, he slid them between her legs, brushing against her, “Are you hurt? Sore?”

She mentally reached out to her body, feeling for injury, “No, but I’ll probably be a little sore in the morning.”

After a few moments of silence, Horacio helped her stand and took her to the bathroom where he turned on the hot water. They showered a little awkwardly, the space too small for both of them. His hands never really left her, though, lingering over her body in a way that spiked a surprising return of her arousal. He laid kisses all over as he dried her off, haphazardly running the towel over his hair and body before tossing it aside.

When he laid her back down in the bed, he kept her near. Naked, warm, and clean, they laid together, talking about nothing at all. And, all the while, he would lean down and press a kiss here, a lick there, just skirting the edge of what she might consider seduction. And yet, her body began to respond as if he’d just started touching her. The fog of her exhaustion gave her a temporary reprieve, lifting just enough that she felt her thighs clench together—or, they would have, if he hadn’t kept his hand right where it was.

Pushing her to her back, Horacio shifted his arm beneath her neck, the other laying across her body, fingers running up and down her slit, circling at the top.

“You took me so well, Eva. I knew you could,” he murmured in her ear. “Made me come before I was ready.”

He alternated between focusing on her clit and rubbing sensuously over her opening. The touch was light, but focused enough that soon enough her hips were tilting up, searching for more stimulation.

“Are you going to come for me again?” He asked, heat lacing every word, “I think you’ve got another in you.”

Unbelievably, it appeared that she did, in fact, have another in her. Though he hadn’t penetrated her, Eva felt the orgasm build and pulse through her. Thighs jerking, she gasped against his mouth as he worked her through it.

With a low hum, Horacio slowed his touch, kissing down her jaw to her neck where he nuzzled against her. Though she’d been granted a short respite, Eva felt the need for sleep come crashing in. Eyes drooping, she shifted to her side and curled into his body.  She fell asleep to the feeling of him lazily tracing the contours of her shoulders and back.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

i’m sorry to bother you, but do you have any tips for college freshmen by chance? i’ve been homeschooled my whole life so this is my first year in a formal school setting and i’m very overwhelmed.

Heck yeah!

1. Write everything down because you WILL forget it. Homework assignments, test/essay dates, schedule, have it all written out somewhere okay I love you

2. Don’t party too much? Please? At least not until your third or fourth years because my roommate partied practically every night and she dropped out halfway through the second semester because she was so tired and depressed all the time and couldn’t focus in class because of it

3. Have your roommate’s phone number in case you forget your room key or need someone to let you into the dorm building (I always remembered my key usually but my roommate needed me to let her into the building a lot)

4. Yes first-time independence is cool, but don’t go overboard okay? Don’t have cake for breakfast every morning just because it’s there. Don’t spend insane amounts of money on things you don’t need solely because no one can stop you. Be responsible

5. EMAIL YOUR TEACHERS WHEN YOU NEED HELP!!! I myself have never done this because I’m a wimp with social anxiety and I do regret it a lot!! That’s what your professors are there for, to help you out and answer questions when you need it and they legit don’t mind, they forget about it instantly after answering your questions and plus they get like five emails a day from students who need help so you’re not alone at all!! Utilize your professors!!

6. If someone tries to start a group chat for your class, JOIN IT. EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK YOU’LL EVER NEED IT. SOMETIMES PEOPLE SHARE ANSWERS TO THINGS OR TALK ABOUT STUFF YOU’RE CONFUSED ABOUT AND IT’S SUPER HELPFUL

7. Have painkillers on hand because when I stay up late studying it gives me KILLER headaches so I need ‘em pretty often. If you also have this problem, stock up on Advil or whatever pain relievers you prefer. You’ll thank yourself for it later

8. If you have a cat, let them join video calls!! There’s no real reason for this tip except that everyone likes cats and it’s the best feeling showing them off to your classmates I swear

9. If you have a roommate, try not to be a dick? Don’t smoke or drink or do drugs when they’re in the room even if they say it’s okay because odds are they’re just saying that to be polite and they actually really hate it and are constantly worried about you getting them in trouble. And don’t leave the window open in the winter so you can smoke crack and blow it out the window because your roommate will be freezing and have to smell your drug smoke and suffer all night long but not say a word about it because she doesn’t want to be a drag even though you’re being a total dick by leaving the window open and forgetting to close it before you go to sleep and you have a million blankets to keep you warm but your roommate only has one because she didn’t think she would have to deal with the window being left open when it’s five degrees outside like what the FUCK is that about

10. Keep the syllabi on hand because you WILL need them I promise

Good luck!! <3

[hyun-swoon]

Statistics Angel

@heonie-ween it’s me!!! your secret santa!!! my gift to you is a fic that may or may not have gotten away from me and possibly inspired me for many other monsta x fics!!!

it’s like 2300 words so it’s under the cut so the post won’t be so long

Summary: Kihyun regretted a lot of things. Not rooming with Minhyuk and just accepting the randomly assigned roommate. Taking MInhyuk's advice for elective. Not taking the professor's advice for when to start the project.

He's not sure if he regrets ending up in the library in the middle of the night, yet.

Link to AO3 here

Kihyun stumbled into the library. It was half past midnight and his roommate sexiled him. Normally, he’d just go to Minhyuk’s room and crash on his floor but Minhyuk was a light sleeper with an early test and Kihyun was in the middle of a huge project.

It was his fault for leaving the whole project until the last minute even though he explicitly remembers his professor telling not to do exactly that. Hyungwon was in the same class and had texted him a picture of his submission screen that morning. Kihyun had simply sent the middle finger emoji and stewed in bitterness over his own poor choices.

So here he was, cursing his roommate for making him leave the safety of their room for the judgment of the library.

“No one is judging you,” Kihyun hears in the back of his head in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Minhyuk’s. “You only get judged when you play sound and don’t have headphones or when you hold obnoxiously loud conversations.” Kihyun supposes that Minhyuk would know from working at the circulation desk and otherwise spending every waking hour outside of class in the library, but he was disinclined to believe his friend who gave an entire half-hour rant before noticing Kihyun’s earbuds.

The library is thankfully empty, most classes have tests instead of projects for midterms and by Thursday night (Friday morning), everyone has either taken their exams or decided that if they don’t already know it, they won’t learn it before morning.

Kihyun picks a table and begins spreading all his supplies out. Although, once he has the file open and the printed instructions in front of him, all progress grinds to a halt. God, who needs statistical analysis anyway? Not Kihyun with his vocal linguistics major, that’s for sure. He needed an elective and when Minhyuk, a business and mathematics double major, said statistics was an easy elective, Kihyun didn’t even think to consider Minhyuk’s majors.

Taking a deep breath, Kihyun puts his earbuds in, cranks up his music and sets to reading the instructions one more time. He starts with formatting and the heading for his paper. Little by little, he begins running the analysis and organizing the numbers into a table. With the easiest part finished, Kihyun checks the time and becomes disheartened once again. It was already nearing 2 am and he still had several more analyses to run and a whole paper to write explaining it.

Saving his work, he pushes his laptop away and lets his head fall onto the table with a thunk. He’s not sure how long he sits like that, but sometime between his wonderings of if it’s too late to drop out and become a trophy husband and if a concussion would get him out of the assignment, something drums on the table. Kihyun turns his head slightly to see a hand resting near his laptop.

He had downed an energy drink and a half before his sexile and after finishing the second one on the walk to the library, he was halfway through his third but he was fairly certain he hadn’t texted Hyungwon about his plans of self-inflicted concussion.

Looking farther up the arm the hand was connected to, Kihyun realizes that it is not Hyungwon or even anyone he knows. The man is buff, certainly way more than any of his own friends, if the state of his forearms were anything to go by. He is wearing a light gray hoodie with the university logo huge across the chest. The hoodie rests halfway on his head and the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. His hair is fluffed like he just woke up from a nap and if not for his thick framed glasses, Kihyun would have put him squarely into the jock category. Still not sure if he’s hallucinating, Kihyun continues to stare before reaching out to touch the man’s hand.

When he actually makes contact, he jolts out of his stupor and nearly falls out of his chair, stopped only by the man’s grip on his forearm.

“Um,” Kihyun’s voice cracks slightly and he grimaces, “Can I help you?”

“Well, I’m working up on the second floor—” he starts.

“Oh my god, can you hear my music all the way up there?!” Kihyun interrupts before the man has a chance to finish, “I’m so sorry! My friends are always saying that I’m going to go deaf with how loud my music is. I can—” Kihyun cuts himself off when the man raises a hand.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” The man smiles and Kihyun nearly cries with how his face goes from stoic to adorable. “I was going to say that I was going for a walk to take my mind off my test in 5 hours when I saw your screen,” he gestures towards Kihyun’s laptop which has since gone dark. “Did you need help with your statistical analysis? Because I would love to help you.”

Kihyun is dumbstruck. He reaches out again, just to make sure this man was real. Then he pinches himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming. “God, this is due at 10 am and I would love some help.” Kihyun mutters. "My name is Kihyun."

The man smiles once again, his eyes crinkling shut, “My name is Hyunwoo. I have to grab my stuff I’ll be right back.”

Once Hyunwoo was gone, Kihyun scrambled for his phone to text Hyungwon. <em>A gorgeous man just offered to help me with statistical analysis. I think I’m in love and I can die happy.</em>

Kihyun stacked most of his shit to make room for Hyunwoo. Just as he is puzzling through a page that looks more like doodles than notes, Hyunwoo sets his stuff down next to Kihyun.

Kihyun wakes his screen up and from the questioning look from Hyunwoo, simply shrugs his shoulders. “I have no idea what I’m doing at all.”

“Well,” Hyunwoo switches from the spreadsheet to Kihyun’s paper, “Kihyun, you are in luck, I had this class two years ago with this same professor. The data is different but I can tell you that she won’t like the way your report is formatted at all.”

Hyunwoo makes quick work of the formatting while Kihyun stares dumbfounded. Hyunwoo has switched back to Kihyun’s spreadsheet and the data he has collected when his forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Where did you get this data? No offense, but it’s kind of shitty.” When Kihyun starts to explain what he did, Hyunwoo shakes his head, “Yeah that’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

Before Kihyun can question him, Hyunwoo starts walking him through how he should have generated the data.

“Now you have these price points to run a regression and you just have to interpret the equation for how the two data sets relate to each other.” Hyunwoo looks at Kihyun. “Make sense?”

Kihyun looks at the regression Hyunwoo ran and blinks, “Not at all. Where do you get an equation from that and what do any of these numbers mean?”

“How have you made it this far in the semester?” Hyunwoo mutters under his breath before he starts explaining what the different parts of the regression mean and what to do with all the numbers.

Sometime around 4 am, everything clicked and started making sense, “Alright no offense, but I need you to shut up so I can write before I lose all coherence and understanding.”

Hyunwoo nods and returns to his own notes to study for his exam. The two work in silence until Kihyun hits a wall. “Wait, can you explain this part to me again?” Hyunwoo looks where Kihyun is pointing and nods before setting into an explanation.

Kihyun is furiously taking down notes so he doesn’t forget again while Hyunwoo watches on, “Why are you in a business statistics class as a linguistics major?”

“Dumbass friend recommended it as an easy elective and I didn’t even consider the fact that Minhyuk is a double major in mathematics and business.” Kihyun mutters. “At least Hyungwon is in my class, even if he’s also a business major.”

Instead of trying to continue the conversation, Hyunwoo hums in acknowledgement and returns to his studying.

Somehow, Kihyun makes it all the way to the end of his paper without needing any additional explanation.

Hyunwoo groans at 6:30, dropping his head onto the table and mirroring Kihyun’s position from several hours earlier, “7 am is really too early for a test.”

Wordlessly, Kihyun pulls his last energy drink out of his backpack and sets it in front of Hyunwoo, barely stopping his typing.

“No, I can’t take this.” Hyunwoo tries to protest, “You’ll need it for your classes today.”

Kihyun pauses his typing, saving his work. “I only have the one class today at 10 and there’s going to be places open then on campus, I can buy another one. There is nothing open now. Just take the energy drink as thanks for helping me.” He is so focused on finishing his report that Kihyun doesn’t notice the way Hyunwoo’s eyes crinkle up into a smile again.

Hyunwoo begins packing up his study materials and Kihyun has turned his music up again with more people coming into the library at the more normal hour. When Hyunwoo leaves, Kihyun absentmindedly wishes him luck, busy proofreading his report.

Just as Hyunwoo is getting out of his test, Kihyun hits submit on his report and data, holding his breath until the confirmation screen appears. Once it does appear, Kihyun saves all his material from the project and closes each one. He looks at his phone, seeing that Hyungwon had been awake during his love declaration but less than helpful. Minhyuk texted at 6:45 cursing 7 am tests and complaining that they should get coffee together. His roommate texted only 2 minutes ago that his hook up left and Kihyun can come back to the room. Kihyun scoffs and ignores him, responding an affirmative to Minhyuk about coffee and telling Hyungwon he didn’t die and his statistics angel explained everything so he was able to finish his project with 2 hours to spare.

As he is shuffling through papers so he can pack up and meet Minhyuk at the coffee shop just off campus, Kihyun notices a smaller note with a phone number.

 <em>Text me and maybe I can explain statistics at a more reasonable time :) -Hyunwoo</em>

Kihyun blinks and regrets giving his last energy drink to Hyunwoo because now he’s not sure if he’s hallucinating. Who knows how long he would have sat there if Minhyuk hadn’t texted him wondering where he is and why he isn’t at the coffee shop.

Immediately shoving all his notes and his computer into his backpack and Hyunwoo’s note into his back pocket, Kihyun briskly walks out of the library, letting Minhyuk know he’ll be there soon.

Adding Hyunwoo’s number to his phone, Kihyun opens a new message, <em>Hey, it’s Kihyun. Thanks for basically teaching me the first half of the semester last night. Just name a time and place and I’ll bring my notes.</em>

Upon reaching the coffee shop, Kihyun doesn’t see Minhyuk anywhere. Just as he’s about to text him, hands from behind cover his eyes. “Guess who?”

Kihyun turns around, “Minhyuk if you aren’t here don’t text me like you are.”

Minhyuk pouts at him, “I just wanted to make sure you would get here without making me wait too long. You’ve done it before.”

Kihyun groans, “It was one time!”

Minhyuk huffs, “It still happened.”

“If you’re trying to guilt me into buying you coffee it won’t work.” Kihyun steps up to order his own coffee before stepping aside for Minhyuk, “I do have some news to share though.”

Minhyuk nearly lights up and quickly orders his coffee and pulls Kihyun to an empty booth. “Tell me. Quickly too because I’ve got a classmate coming to discuss a project.”

“Okay so you know that hell statistics project that Hyungwon and I had due today that we weren’t supposed to start the night before?”

Minhyuk groans, “Kihyun I warned you about this!”

“I know!”

Before Kihyun can continue the story his and Minhyuk’s names are called. Kihyun rises to get the coffee because no matter how much of a hurry he claims to be in, Minhyuk always chats up the barista.

“Okay so as I was saying,” Kihyun continues, “I started it last night and then my roommate sexiled me so I had to go to the library. I got the first part done and then considered concussing myself but an angel descended from the second floor and helped me with everything and I got it done and statistics makes sense now! He gave up time to study for a 7 am test to help me.” Kihyun looks dreamily out the window, “He was a statistics angel. I think I’m in love Minhyuk.”

“Does your statistics angel have a name?”

“Hyunwoo,”

“Hmm,” Minhyuk hums. He looks over Kihyun’s shoulder, “Hi, Hyunwoo-hyung.”

The force that Kihyun turns his head should have given him whiplash. True to Minhyuk’s greeting, there stood Hyunwoo. He seems to have gone home after his and Minhyuk’s test. He’s wearing a different sweatshirt and a beanie over his hair. Most noticeable is his lack of glasses.

Kihyun feels his face heat up, “How much of that did you hear?”

“You think I’m a statistics angel?”

Kihyun puts his face in his folded arms while Minhyuk cackles. Hyunwoo taps the table like he did in the library so many hours ago. Kihyun looks up reluctantly, “Can I suffer my embarrassment in peace?”

Hyunwoo smiles and Kihyun tries very hard not to swoon. “No because I was ready to text asking if you wanted to go on a date that didn’t involve statistics.”

(“Wait, Hyunwoo-hyung when did you get so smooth? Stop asking my friend out and teach me your ways!”

“Minhyuk we have a project to work on.”)

[chokefriends]

Pit-town Strays Ch.3

Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything’s fucked but whatever.

Rated T, no warnings. 

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - [Ch. 3] - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle

The next morning was a comfortable jumble—coffee, laundry, and UFO ‘documentaries’ playing in the background on the big tv. Kidd thudded around in his boxers, yelling at Nami to put some actual clothes on for once, and burning toast in the oven.

“If your toaster wasn't being a radio, you might get toast out of it,” Law pointed out.

“Ah fuck that. I got a laptop with a broken fan that runs hot enough to burn the table… I can probably rig that up and it'll work. Hm.”

Law shook his head. “Whatever. Towels? I'm gonna shower.”

Kidd waved a hand as he dug around in a kitchen drawer full of tools. “Use whatever one, they're all pretty clean.”

Law found the stack of clean towels, and locked himself in the bathroom before going about his usual, highly involved routine. It wasn't like either of these tar-pit kids cared if his nails were trimmed or stuff like that, but he liked feeling put-together in the details, even if he'd slept in his clothes and had kind of a hangover.

He got out of the shower to find Nami sitting on the counter, chewing a toothbrush.

“Nami! The door was locked!” He hid behind the shower curtain and grabbed his towel.

“Yah.”

“That means don't come in!” he emerged with a towel around him and tried to shoo her out.

“What is it that?” She pointed at his skin.

“Tattoos.”

“Tattoos are hurt?”

“No, they're fine. Out.” He picked her up and set her outside the bathroom door, then closed it.

“My toothbrUSH!” she screeched.

Law cracked the door enough to stick the toothbrush out, then closed, locked and latched it. But the doorknob fucking rattled again like two minutes later.

“Nami, WHAT,” Law shouted, then scrambled to hide when Kidd responded.

“Nami says she needs Band-Aids! I dunno what for, but...”

“There's some on top of the fridge! Go get those!”

“What? No there's not.” The doorknob rattled again.

“Yes there is! Fuck off, I'm fucking half dressed!” Law called from behind the shower curtain.

“Oh, I don't mind—”

“I do!! Just go look on the fridge and let me dress!”

“...taking all fucking day in there…” Heavy footsteps went off the hall.

Law sat down wearily in the tub, letting out a deep breath. He rested for a minute, letting his eyes wander over the black spots drawn onto his jeans with sharpie. All his clothes ended up like that—he doodled the spots whenever he was bored in class or hanging out by himself. Just his thinking-patterns.

He shook off the thoughtful moment and reached one hand out of the shower curtain to grab his t-shirt and hoodie. He finished dressing in the shower.

“My turn yet?” Kidd grumbled when he finally reappeared.

“Oh, you do wash?”

“Haha. Go to hell.” He belched and grabbed the towel from Law.

---

Things were calm in their chaotic way throughout the rest of the morning. No more texts came from back home, and Law let that issue settle to the back of his mind. Nami seemed happy, though she started pointedly ignoring Kidd as soon as he made motions to leave for work. She focused instead on sticking band-aids to Law's shirt.

“The hell is she doing?” Kidd wondered. “Nami, the hell are you doing? Stop wasting those. I can only get the animal ones when the old blind lady's working the cash.”

“She saw my tattoos and decided they were boo-boos,” Law grumbled. He watched disapprovingly while Nami carefully patched up the sharpie spots on his jeans too.

“Ohhh, heh. You got tats?” Kidd looked him over quickly, but they were all covered up.

“Yeah, a couple in blackwork. They're kinda personal so I don't really show em off.”

“That's fuckin sweet, I wanna get some but they're so expensive. The piercings, I can at least do myself.”

Law shrugged. “Yeah, I got a friend with his own machine who does it for me.”

Kidd watched Nami, a little smile sneaking over his face. “Aw, that's actually pretty cute…” He took out his phone and held it up for a picture.

Law tensed. “Uh! I don't like pictures of me.”

“No? Kay I'll just get one of her then.” The phone made an obnoxious fake camera snap sound.

“...Great.” Law slouched in his chair with his head propped up on one fist.

“What you wanna eat later, any takeout requests?” Kidd asked.

“Whatever.”

“Chicken bucket?”

Law shrugged.

Kidd waited but just got more silence. He tried his sister. “Nami: chicken?”

That one was definitely ignoring him. Kidd gave up with an impatient growl and left for work, stomping his way outside with extra force.

“Ah fuck…” Law regretted his terseness as soon as the other had gone. Now he felt bad. “Nami, stop. Kidd said don't waste those.”

“Haha… yah.”

“Nami. I said stop.”

She startled at his harsh tone, and started to cry. Law sighed in frustration as she tried to climb up into his lap for comfort.

“Law, you hug me. I'm Nami and you hug me.”

“Law doesn't like hugs, Nami.”

She insisted, “Kidd is always hug me and give me a band-aid.”

“Kidd lets you have what you want too much,” Law observed.

But he picked her up to sit on his lap. She applied a final tiger band-aid to the middle of his chest, and he scoffed and massaged his temples.

“Nami, a locked door means don't go in. Okay?”

“Hmhmhn.” Now she was ignoring him and humming to herself. She picked up the pencil on the table and started adding her own designs to Law's stats assignment.

“Nami.” He took the sheet away and she looked at him in outrage.

“No!” she scolded him.

Law scolded her right back. “Hey! Listen! Closed door is no.”

“NO.”

“NO,” he said even louder. Great, now he was getting in a shouting contest with a toddler.

Nami wasn't having it, though. She slid down off his lap and went to go damn well do her own thing. A moment later, she came back and took the band-aid right off his chest before leaving again.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, that's cold.”

---

Law brooded at the table for a while, staring past the little pile of photocopied practice sheets he was supposed to be working on and coloring his nails black with sharpie. A chair scraping the floor next to him brought him back to reality. Right… he was babysitting.

Nami climbed up on the chair and handed Law a little jar of something. Black nail polish.

“Heh. You think black nails are pretty, Nami?” Law smiled and accepted the peace offering.

“Yah.” She watched him shake the jar and inspect the contents. Her own nails were an even, glossy black—the product of Kidd's steady hand.

“I think it's nice too…” Law started on his left thumb, trying to match Kidd's technique.

“Our’s dad is say no, it's haggy.”

���Haggy?”

“Yah.”

“What's that?” Law could mostly decipher her toddler-speak, with all its fumbled f's and chubby-cheeked babble, but sometimes it took a minute.

She paused and thought. “Hm.”

“Haggy…” Law thought, and then got it. “Oh… fuck. Nami don't say that to anyone, that's bad.”

“Is bad?”

“Well… it's not bad to be, uh, that. But it's mean to say it to someone. It hurts.” He paused and looked at his hand, half-painted and definitely messy. He bit his lip and stubbornly went about doing the rest too. “Anyway, black nails aren't bad, they're babely. Especially on guys. Like your brother.”

Nami seemed satisfied. “And witches too and mermaids?”

“Definitely. Babely and not bad...”

She watched Law move onto his right hand, fumble it, and make a blob. “You do it bad.”

She dodged Law's attempt to give her an even bigger blob, and ran off screeching gleefully. Law gave up the task with a sigh and picked up his phone instead.

---

You: cheese fries.

Kidd: cheese fries??

You: cheese fries

You: or whatever you want

You: its your money

Kidd: cheese fries!!!!! !!; ✓✓✓

---

Kidd got back earlier this time. Law looked out the window, surprised to see it was still daylight, but a little relieved. Nami had been an on-and-off terror again that day. The little hellion signaled her joy at Kidd's early return by running up to him and screeching like a banshee.

“That’s a great new noise,” Kidd winced.

Law wasn't listening. He was looking at the message that had just popped up on his phone.

Bellamy: dad asking where u is……..

You: just tell him I took off early this morning

You: friend's place

You: back really soon

Bellamy didn't reply and Law swallowed a surge of panic. “I think I gotta go,” he mumbled.

“Cheese fries,” Kidd countered, holding up a brown paper bag.

“My dad’s home, and he'll want me to check in…”

“Cheese fries and I drive ya.” Kidd kicked off his boots and headed for the kitchen.

Law fiddled with his phone for a moment, but there were no more messages, and he'd asked for cheese fries, and hey, what was another few minutes anyway. He sat at the table with the two unruly redheads, both talking with their mouths full and shoveling down the fries without pausing to swallow. Kidd cracked a beer but took it slow, catching Law's glance. Nami quickly stuffed herself and fell asleep under the table with a blanket. They let her be while they ate.

“It’s the municipality's depot shop, so yeah, crooked as hell, but good-crooked, hahaha,” Kidd was explaining his new job around a cheesy mouthful.

“Oh? What kind of corruption is the good one again?” Law stirred his own fries into a mushy mass.

“Kind that pays cash and don't ask about certifications.”

“Oh, heh…”

Kidd shrugged. “Yeah. Little lax on the health and safety, but least it's not the Pit.”

“Yeah.” Law replied vaguely.

His strange host finished his greasy gravy-and-cheese mess and leaned back in his chair, stretching as much as he could in the small space. The black nails and metal-studded lips were such a weird contrast to the prissiness of the room—dusty lace valances and bonneted geese painted on the tile backsplash. The long-limbed boy just seemed so ill-fitted here; almost crammed in.

“So you got yourself a mess there, eh.” Kidd started, delicately.

Law sighed. “Yeah, well it's not really a ‘mess’. I'm probably overreacting. My Dad's just a little nuts about rules and family responsibilities… of which I seem to have the greater share…”

“Yeah, that's shitty.” Kidd chewed thoughtfully on a toothpick. “I wasn't tryna pry.”

“It's cool.”

“I meant your mani, though,” Kidd gestured with the toothpick at Law's left-handed paint job.

“Oh! Yeah that? Mess.” Law gave an embarrassed laugh. His left hand was okay, but his right was just a blobby attempt at two fingers.

“Want me to…?”

“Uh. Yeah. Maybe. Just if you want to,” Law laughed again, a little too loud.

“Yeah definitely. There's remover in the bathroom,” Kidd suggested.

Law went and cleaned off the smeared black on his right hand and returned. Kidd shuff-shuffed his chair over to Law's and shook the little vial of polish.

“Okay, gimme your uh…” Kidd noticed Law's flinch as he went to grab his hand. “Or actually, just put your hand on the table, here?”

Law placed his hand in the table, fingers spread, and Kidd went about his art. He somehow did each finger with only two strokes, leaning in close to execute the little flicks with peak precision. He laid his head right on the table, pillowed on an arm, to complete the thumb from up close. Law watched him frown in concentration.

“Nice. Don't move for ten minutes.” Kidd grinned when he'd finished. He blew lightly on Law's fingers with a pwfff to dry them.

Law put his head on his arm too, settling in across from Kidd. “Thanks.”

“Pfffwww.”

“Pffffffw,” Law puffed back at him.

“Haha, weird,” Kidd admitted.

“Mhm…”

Law drummed his painted fingers and didn't say anything for a couple minutes. Kidd let the silence stretch on, watching him as they both rested their heads on the table.

“...You worried about going back, huh.”

Law lifted his eyes to meet the other's, but then looked down again. They were too direct, felt like lasers.

“Doesn't matter. I’m needed back home,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Or ‘required,’ I guess.”

“Hm,” Kidd mused.

“We don't got a mom, so.”

“She gone, or?”

Law shuffled and scoffed. “Well she was never my mom. She divorced my dad before I was ever adopted, and left their two sons with him. Went off somewhere. She comes back sometimes but she's like, a rich brat. I think she's actually very minor royalty in one of the shittier parts of Europe?”

“Heh, screw her then.”

“Definitely. So anyway, someone needs to make sure shit is in order. And watch my brothers,” Law explained.

“They're grown up, though, right?”

“Well, Dellinger's thirteen… and a little special… But actually, yeah, he's fine by himself. Way more than Bellamy was at that age.”

“Well, so you can just keep staying here!” Kidd decided.

Law laughed and rolled his eyes. “I can't just stay.”

“Yeah you can.” Kidd countered, honestly, and Law didn't really know what to say. Kidd pressed on, “Why not?”

“Don't think people around here like me much.”

“You think they like me here?” Kidd snorted. “They don't matter anyway. Nami likes you, and she never likes anyone.”

Law smiled to himself, thinking of the animal band-aids. “She's a good kid.”

“Just around you.”

Law withdrew back into silence, though he didn't make any move to get up, or to shake off the way their fingertips were lacing together loosely. He kept his head on the table and chewed his lip, looking at their matching fingernails instead of at Kidd.

“I kinda do too.”

“I... probably gotta go, for real,” Law responded after a flustered moment.

Kidd sat up with a casual shrug. “Yeah. I'll take you on the bike.”

“But, yeah, um… Maybe I could just come by sometimes, like after class, and, study here or just hang? Would that be cool?”

“Yeah!” Kidd's grin was so fierce and genuine it was impossible not to grin back.

---

They took off on the bike past all the tar-paper houses. Their windows were lighting up as the sky dimmed into grey dusk. Here and there firepits and packs of noisy kids sent up flurries of light and activity.

“The carpool again,” Law yelled to Kidd as they drove.

“Not all the way home?”

“Not unless you wanna run into my dad…”

“I don't mind,” Kidd shrugged.

“I mind.”

Kidd pulled into the carpool, stopping under the orange glow of the streetlight just as it flicked on. Law pulled off the helmet and dismounted with a little flutter in his stomach.

“So uh. Tomorrow?” Law leaned a casual hand on the bike handlebars, trying to be all smooth as fuck.

“Yeah…” Kidd watched him with a little smile.

Law leaned in, an answering smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He didn't rush it—it was kinda nice to be the one looking down at Kidd for once.

But then something pinged the back of Law's awareness: A sound that sent all his internal alarms off. A car he knew… and not the old Volvo.

“Shit…” he looked up and down the highway.

“What, something up?” Kidd looked around too.

“Uh.” Law listened another frozen second, and then took off in a flat run for the trees.

“Okay cool see ya,” Kidd called to his back.

“Yup!”

---

Kidd sat on his bike and kicked his heels into the gravel for a moment after Law had taken off.

“Whatever,” he decided. Weird guy could go be weird or whatever. Not like Kidd cared. He fit the helmet onto his head and the lingering scent of hair oil and cloves struck him, close and unexpected…

Kidd felt his face and neck heat up again.

“...fuck,” he grumbled. He crossed his arms and looked around, staying hidden in his helmet and waiting for the stupid whatever feeling thing to pass. It didn't. “Fuck!” he told the streetlight.

He revved the bike and tore away onto the highway, weaving around the recent-model Caddy that was making its stately way past. It honked sternly.

“Fuck off, hippie!” Kidd yelled at it as he speed away.

[dragonwitchgaming]

Across Space and Time- Chapter 5

Hay guys I want to wish you a good summer vacation! AST will be on hold while I'm on summer break but when school starts back up I will be releasing chapters 6, 7, and 8 (possibly chapter 9.)

As a reminder I mentioned in chapter 4 and the announcement that I will be starting a specialty series. Make sure you go check them out as well! Keep an eye out for further updates on AST.   

Make sure that if you enjoy to like and comment!

2562 Words

GENRE: Fluff, Slight angst, crack

PAIRING: Levi X OC (platonic) 

WARNINGS: none 

masterlist

TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER

   Year 849, June 3rd 

   The wind whipped past me at starling speed as I flew past trees and used the blades of my sword to carve out a slice of the dummy titan’s neck. The feeling of the almost flying was exhilarating. Going back to a world that didn’t have that was almost unthinkable. Currently I was in the top ten ranks in training but just barely. I was ranked ninth. Although, it wasn’t always that way. One the first day of ODM gear flight training I hit my face on a branch and gave myself a concussion, nocked me down to twelfth. 

   I was now best friends with the odd trio. Eren and Armin treated me like a sister and Mikasa would watch out for me if I happened to be causing trouble with the brunet.

   “You stole my kill!” Connie shouted in disdain. Giving me a sharp glare as we zipped though the forest side by side. Connie Springer, a 5 foot 2 inch, bald male that used to live in the Ragako village within wall Rose. His biggest motivation being his wish to make his family proud. He ranked 8th in our class and was damn good at what he did. He had become a good friend over the 2 years I had been here.

   “Be faster then.” I japed playfully at his ego and sped up. The others of my class zipped by such as Eren and Jean Kirstein who seemed to be having a contest. Jean being a 5 foot 8 inch egotistical prick who lusted after Mikasa like a rabid dog.

   Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a hidden 10 meter dummy titan. Hidden well enough that it wouldn’t be seen by anyone who had not been paying attention to the field itself, I had almost not even seen it. A mistake like that could get someone killed on the real field.

   “Connie!” I called grabbing his attention. I pointed in the direction of the dummy clueing him. He nodded sharply.

   “I’ll cover you!” he yelled over the howling wind, making a sharp right while I swung to my left avoiding an incoming tree with a narrow dodge. My body falling back to avoid the following branch. With the titans nape in sight I moved swiftly aiming for a deathly strike. Only the swivel motor turned the titan to face me with almost startling speed. Launching myself back and onto a higher tree branch to avoid what would have been my death if it were a real titan. This movement had left an opening to the unnoticed Connie, giving him all the time he needed to take the kill. He took the opening slicing the dummies nape landing on a branch to my right.

   I looked to my left and noticed a different trail of titans then the ones we were assigned and deliberated on ‘taking them out’. Was it a different field training or was this a test. I stood on a branch not far from the most resent ‘kill’. “You think we should take them out?” I asked the bald boy.

   “Wouldn’t there be an instructor there if we weren’t supposed to?” He shrugged.

   “I suppose your right. alright lets go get em’” I cheered, launching myself forward taking down dummy after dummy with the help of Connie. The path had lead us to the rest of the group as they continued to push forward.

………

   “Where were you?” demanded Eren curtly as he caught up with me.

   “I had noticed a branch path and Connie and I took it. Don’t worry about it.” I sighed as I sliced through another dummy with precision. 

   As the last dummy was finished off and we made it back to the rendezvous we were ordered to gather in the plaza for evaluation. My score was relatively high but was defiantly outmatched by some of the others. I had come out with 15 solo “kills” with 7 assists. 

   “Cadets!” Instructor Shadis boomed from the small stage. “All of you have been put through a test to see if you can efficiently and affectively take out a titan! However, this was not just testing your ability to kill this was also a test of your observation skills. Which all but two of you failed to pass!” I looked over at Connie who gave me a look of ‘I told you so’.

   I stuck out my tongue at him in spite. As Shadis continued his droning speech I looked to find Levi Smiling proudly at me. the amount he had changed was very little but it was enough for hi mama myself to be considered friends. He was still cold to everyone but he tended to smile a bit more then when I first met him. Well I had considered him like a friend but technically he was my “adoptive father” now. About a year and a half ago, to avoid government officials getting involved in my world hopping, Erwin had the raven adopt me and my story was that I came from the slums and had been orphaned during the attack on the outer wall. So legally Levi was my dad and he sure as hell acted like it. From making me clean or holding me to a higher slandered then the other cadets. It was all fine and good though. I knew he didn’t mean any harm. 

   “Dismissed!” the sharp command brought me from my thoughts violently. I walked over to Connie who smirked at me.

   “Don’t even.” I sighed, shaking my head. 

   “Told you so.” He laughed, shoulders shaking. Shadis had approached us with that permanent scowl of his.

   “Aurora Ackerman and Connie Springer, please report to my office after dinner.” Shadis barked at us. Oh, had I forgot to mention that my last name had been changed? Well not really changed, more or less in this world it was changed but really it was the same in mine. Man this was confusing. 

   “Sir!” We saluted at the same time. He turned and left stalking away in the direction of the main building.

   “What was that about?” Eren asked as he joined us.

   “Shadis wants to see us after dinner.” Connie explained. I scanned around the remaining cadets to find Mikasa and found her with one of the guards discussing god knows what.

   “Don’t start falling for her. You know she only has eyes for Eren.” Armin’s voice startled me causing me to jump almost four feet in the air. 

   “Armin!” I snapped turning to the blond in blind fury. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” a red hue painting me cheeks.

   “You were the one lost in your daydreams. I called your name so really I wasn’t sneaking.” He said throwing an arm around my shoulders.

   “I wasn’t day dreaming!” I snapped.

   “Really? So staring off in the distance while happening to be staring at your crush is totally not daydreaming.” He smirked. 

   “Sh-shut up!” I blushed harder. The embarrassment was agenizing as Armin continued to tease me mercilessly. “I don’t have a crush on her!”

   “Could have fooled me.” He shrugged playfully. 

   “Who has a crush on who?” Levi’s voice sent chills down my spine as he decided to make an appearance at the worst time possible. His steely gray eyes boring into my green.

   “No one has a crush on anyone!” I cried in embarrassment, turning away from the man to hid my blushing cheeks. Damn Armin to hell and back! Levi hummed in mock belief but said no more on the subject.

   “Aurora, come with me please… there is something we need to discuss.” Levi’s emotion was undecipherable but it was evident whatever he needed to discuss was important. Everyone knew Levi had adopted me but none of them knew why. Some chalked it up to business matters, others suspected the Corporal had gone soft for an orphaned kid much like himself, but none knew the real reason. This made things a little trickier from time to time but it wasn’t too much for him to handle.

   “You’re in trouble now Aura” Armin teased yet again. I elbowed him sharply in the ribs to silence him, and followed my adoptive father to his office. The path though the main building to his office was familure to the point I could probably walk to it in my sleep. 

   Once inside I took my usual spot on the couch that was seated on the left side of the room. His desk per usual was cluttered with unfinished paperwork; sat center about a third of the from the wall opposite the door. Bookshelves lined the right wall, filled to the brim with books on History, titans, and files on cadets.

   “So what did you need me for dad?” I joked giving the glowering face a bright smile.

   “Real funny Aura.” He sighed before sitting at his desk. He folded his hands on his desk and looked at me sternly.

   “You said your mother’s maiden name was Jain Lee correct?” I vaguely remember about a year ago telling him about my family life back at home, excluding my father of course, I only mentioned he had died. For some reason he had not revealed at the time, he began doing some investigating after hearing my mothers name. 

   “Yes why?” I asked cautiously. Levi was usually never this serious around me if we where alone. 

   “Is this her?” he handed me a drawing like picture. The woman in the frame was gorgeous. She had long flowing hair that framed her soft jaw line. Perfect lips smiling brightly without a care in the world. Her thin and petite form clothed in the uniform of the Survey Corps. There was no logical way, however there was absolutely no denying she was in fact my mother. 

   “How…?” I trailed off in absolute shock and confusion. 

   “Her name is Jian An Lee, she was a Lance Corporal much like myself. I worked under her and Erwin in my earlier years in the Survey Corp. Until she disappeared and never came back when we went on a mission. We all thought she had been eaten by a titan.” Levi said with a sullen tone. 

   “But that’s without a doubt my mother. Yes she’s aged but I’ve seen…” I stopped. Remembering the box my mother used to keep locked in her closet. As a kid, I was only eight at the time, I had once got ahold of the key and looked inside. The memory came flashing back.

 ______  

   I snuck into my mom’s office, curious as to what was in the large brown box she kept locked and tucked away. Daddy always said is was a vary important secret so I would have to be sneaky. 

   Mom and Dad were outside working on the garden so now was the perfect opportunity. I quickly grabbed the key from her hidden drawer and rushed to the closet. Jamming the jagged and hardly used key into the lock twisting to the left sharply. The clock of it unlocking cueing me to open the box. 

   Inside was a bunch of things I couldn’t quite tell what they were. I first examined the clothing that was primarily tan and white. The jacket had a weird wing like symbol on the back and sleeves. Leather straps with buckles all over the place, and a brown skirt like piece with white pants. All of them dirtied with a dried blood stains. Next I looked at the metal pieces that seemed to have no purpose. Why would mom need this junk? I dug through the metal until I found a blade of some kind. It was sectioned into 6 segments. Nine more blades just like it sat at the bottom of the box. “I don’t understand? What is this stuff?” I questioned myself.

______

   “What?” Levi cocked an eyebrow at my silence.

   “When I was about eight years old, my mother had a large locked box in her office. I happened to sneak in while my mom and dad were busy outside and I found… I found ODM gear and a Survey Corps uniform inside.” I revealed. “I didn’t know what it was at the time and I wasn’t supposed to know what was inside because my mother forbid me to look, so I didn’t ask…” the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “Dad was in on it too!” I gasped. “He knew! But grandma? How dose this make sense? My grandmother was born in my world? Her birth records and everything check out!” I racked my brain for any logical reason.

   “I adopted you didn’t I? I’m sure that’s a thing in your world.” Levi sat forward, leaning onto his desk. 

   “Yes… it is… but wait my mother was born here right? My father was born in my world… there’s more to this then we first thought.” My mind was sent reeling at this new information. “I need to tell Erwin!” I quickly got up to go but my arm was caught by Levi’s firm grip. 

   “Relax Aura.” His voice calm and assertive, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll worry about Erwin. You sit.” He said pointing to the sofa. I obeyed his command and sat back down. He handed me a cup of cool tea and went back to his desk. “You can’t freak out like that. You’ll cause not only panic but suspicion. Your world hopping is to be kept under wraps at all costs.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

   Once calm I started to see the reasoning he gave. “Sorry. It’s not every day that you find your ancestry is from two different worlds.” I muttered. He huffed out a small laugh but didn’t answer. 

   “So you worked for my mom?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “If you think about it that’s kind of weird. Especially since your like my dad and all now.” I half joked. Levi rolled his eyes but answered no less. 

   “Yes, your just like her to. A smart ass that always makes snide and unnecessary remarks or jokes, always showing off, challenges authority, and is always going out of your way to tease me even though you know it only pisses me off.” He growled but there was no anger. There was a small smile on his face when he continued. “Although you both are very good at making friends with anyone and everyone, you look out for others, independent, talented, and you both are important people in my life. Her as a friend, and you as my daughter.” 

   “That’s it people! Corporal Levi Ackerman is soft!” I cried out in celebration, throwing my hands in the air and flying back into the couch. 

   “Damn it Aura! I try to be nice and this is what I get. I should have killed you when I had the chance.” He grumbled. 

   “Nah you love me to much.” I laughed as I got up and gave the salty man a hug. “It’s okay your my irreplaceable dad now.” I let him go and made to leave the office.

   “I’ll look further into your mothers case, meanwhile don’t do anything stupid.” He warned me with a firm glare. 

   “Ya, ya, whatever ya big softy!” I waved without turning back and left to go to dinner.

[codylabs]

Chapter 27: Farewell Savage Fate

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (you don’t really need to pay attention to the times, they’re there for MY benefit.)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (control room)

-Warning: Intruders have begun Reactor 5 startup. Power output: 5% and rising. Coolant levels sufficient.

-Warning: Intruders have access to all remaining ship systems and engines.

-Input: Assign bioforms 3 and 4 a threat level of 20. Combat preference: Immediate lethal force. You are clear to engage. Take no survivors.

-Threat reassessed. Antimatter pellets loaded and launchers charged. Drones 155, 157, 158, 163, 164, 174, 175 and 179 engaging.

The 8 drones did exactly as they had been instructed, without a briefest moment’s hesitation. They hovered quietly out of the darkness, their eyes fixed on the entrance to the control room, their weapons hot, their minds already visualizing the battle.

Intruder 3, whom friendly faces knew as McGucket, was still busy at the computer, and would not be able to react in time. A single antimatter round could penetrate his torso and explode, killing him instantly. Stan, identified as intruder 4, remained catatonic in the chair; even if he were to wake up now, he would not be able to offer much resistance. Another antimatter round would terminate him.

Two shots. That’s all that was needed. Each drone loaded four for good measure.

But then something happened.

A brilliant flash of blue light lit up the control room. McGucket jumped backwards from the controls, startled and frightened. Did I just do that? This alien tech must be touchier than it looks… But then when he looked hard at the readouts, nothing seemed to have changed… All the settings and feedback were just where he’d left them… But then he noticed something really quite odd: The plasma beam weapon that had been leaned beside him was no longer there. He glanced around. Stan didn’t have it. Where did it go? What happened? It was right he—

The sound of eight simultaneous explosions echoed through the room. He heard debris rattling against the walls from outside, saw a scrap of burned wreckage bounce in past the doors, and shards of plating and chunks of robotic innards clattering to the ground outside.

Stanley was awake in an instant. “HI HEY NO PLEASE SUSAN I COULDN’T…! *Snrf* …Heeeey, can’t a fella get any sleep around here?”

“I dunno whatappened!” McGucket cried, rushing toward the door with Stan on his heels. “Whasappenin’ whatwassat noise whosthere whereintarnashin my death ray run off to?”

They looked out. Stan didn’t remember it being quite so warm and smoky. McGucket didn’t remember there being quite so many burned, smashed piles of robotic wreckage.

He also didn’t remember leaving his death ray out here. Yet there it was, sitting on the floor at his feet, that very same tool he’d misplaced seconds ago.

McGucket picked it up and found that it was lighter; its fuel tanks were nearly empty. And a quick check of the electrical charge revealed that the batteries were almost wasted as well.

The ignition chamber was still warm.

“Well I’ll be a pork-bellied feather-hearted dingleberry… What in the name of me Pappie’s gibberflunked bramblesnippin’ Mississippi combine just happened?”

“You need to keep better track of that thing.” Stan told him.

“Did you just do that just now?” McGucket asked.

“Did who do huh? Did something happen?”

“Wha--? But… The thing…? Oh my, lookit these poor robits…”

Stan made a long string of confused grunkley noises. “Welp, I’m in over my head. You got a brother I could call? I mean… A phone I could brother? I mean… Agh, can’t talk today. Hey waitaminute, where are the kids?”

“Yeh can’t get service down here…” McGucket reminded him. “Oh yeah, and them two teenagins said they’s was curious ‘bout somethin’, and ran off that-a-way.” He pointed off into the darkness.

“…Aaaagh. Dumb kids. Don’t they know there’s killer robots down here? …Okay; so you’re sure something blew all these things up?”

“Well yeah, an’ I think it may’ve used my plasma beam ta do it!” McGucket objected. “But I can’t rightly figger how they got it right out from under my nose, or ‘ow they did it so fast. Y’know this thing needs a moment to prime, a little bit ta charge, and even longer ta cool down, so it woulda taken a while ta do all this, but I believe I heard the events occur simultaneously, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, listen, pal I’ve been living in a cramped ship’s cabin with my nerdy brother for the better part of a year now, and I have developed an extremely short fuse for technical mumbo-jumbo. So here’s how it is: if somethin’s weird, you say ‘somethin’s weird’ and stop there. Savvy?”

“Err… Sorry… Somethin’s weird.” McGucket said.

“Great. Weird. We know weird. We can handle weird. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with weird.” Stan pulled the doors closed behind them as they stepped into the control room. “Now. In case some maaaaagical death-ray-stealing mischief fairies wanna pay us another visit, I’ll leave it open a crack so we can hear ‘em coming.”

“Sounds good…” McGucket wrung his hands together as he stepped back up to the console. “Well… Actually, I think I got the programmin’ all finished. The reactor should be workin’ again. The gravitational nacelle has been calibrated to focus on the Forest of Daggers, and-”

“So what yer SAYIN’ is…” Stanley crossed his arms. “This whole joint’s gonna get weird once ya push that big red button.”

“…Yeah.”

“Better wait ‘till the kids are back then.”

“…I could run it through a test sequence…” McGucket scratched his chin. “Bring the core up to 50% output ta test for malfunctulations and stir up some noise; get ‘em back here faster.”

“Yeah. Great. Do that.”

McGucket hit the big red button.

It started quiet and built in intensity; an enormous, rumbling sort of hum, which thundered through the frame of the ship, shaking the walls, steadily overcoming all lesser noise.

McGucket turned it off again after a minute.

Stan adjusted his hearing aid. “That was a little loud.” He understated.

“Yeah, well, I reckon the coolant compressors had some corrosion, and the hydraulics were nearly rusted shut, so that’s my guess as to why…”

“Geez, you just take any little thing as an excuse to start in on it, don’t ya?” Stan grunted.

“Sorry.”

A noise from beyond the door interrupted them. It sounded like gunfire. From a raygun. Raygunfire.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stanley picked up a weapon, and marched for the door. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

But when he levered the hatch open, he froze in surprise.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:30pm (it doesn’t really matter when this was, but plotwise it happened before.)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack (time and place where Sam happened to locate Ford)

Mabel stared up at the shapeshifter for a minute. Then she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. Yeeeah, that’s him alright.

She didn’t know why he was here, who let him out of the bunker, or what he was doing here. To be honest, she hadn’t even a faint inkling of what the heck happened at all while she was asleep. Gee whiz, spend one afternoon in a coma, and now the single nastiest and scariest monster I’ve ever met is right in here in the Shack… She had quite a lot of questions, but Great Uncle Ford or anybody was nowhere around to answer them. There was only this creature, this hideous, frightening… Thing.

Oh well.

She may as well just ask.

“Hi guy!” She smiled, forcing a smile onto her face. Be Mabel. She thought. Just like Dipper told you. Be Mabel. Think good thoughts… This IS gonna end up okay. One way or another. “How’s it going?” She asked, as her cheery words forced past her fear. “When did you get here?”

Sam hadn’t been expecting a question like that. In fact, he hadn’t expected even a hint of this cheery disposition. Unsure of how to react, he found himself answering candidly. “Twenty minutes ago…”

“Okay! Uh…!” She hopped down from her chair and stretched her sore neck as she glanced around the room. “Have you seen my Great Uncle? He was just here I think.”

“…He’s gone.”

She blinked. “Well yeah, I can see that; did you see where he went?”

“I think I kindnapped him.” He heard himself answer truthfully again.

“Whaaaat…?” Mabel frowned up at him skeptically. “How in pig’s name are you not sure if you kidnapped somebody?”

“Well, I…” Sam blinked down at the little girl. “…He disappeared. I’m sure it was me who did it, or who will do it. And… I… Uh.” He looked down at the yellow time machine in his hands, and felt himself descending ever deeper into confusion.

Mabel followed his eyes. Her jaw dropped and she gasped loudly. “What…! You! Wha! That’s no tape measure! THAT’S A TIME MACHINE! You have a time machine! You really have one! For real! Where’d you get it?”

“Y-yes. I… My mother gave it to me, I—”

“You have a mother?!? What’s she like?!?”

“I-wha-hey!” He finally found his focus again, reminded himself that he was in charge, and drug the conversation back on-topic. “YES. I have a time machine.” He repeated, clicking his teeth. “And I’ve been using it to remake my life as I will… I took Ford, I outsmarted all of you, and now, I have everything I want…”

Before she had time to feel intimidated, Mabel started talking again. “This is so awesome…!” She smiled, as her brain but together a plan. “Yes… YES! With a time machine, we can save him! It’s perfect! This fixes everything! We have a TIME MACHINE! Man, your mom must be AWESOME! Is it your birthday? Or is it Christmas? Do aliens have Christmas in June? Summermas? Where did she buy it?”

“…Calm down.” Sam frowned at her.

“Saaaay new friend, could I actually borrow that thing for a minute?” Mabel pleaded. “It’s really really reallyreallyreallysuperduper important.”

“Calm down.” He repeated.

“I’ll give it right back and everything!” She promised as she reached for it. “But my brother kind of died a couple days ago so I really need to save him. It’s really kind of urgent so would that be alright? You could come too if you want!”

“QUIET!” He reached out a hand and pushed her away. She stumbled right over on the floor, and almost hit her head on the corner of a table as she went over. Sam blinked, surprised. Oops. She’s weaker than I thought. I almost hurt her; I didn’t mean to hurt her… Wait, why DIDN’T I mean to hurt her? Of course you mean to hurt her! You’re HERE to hurt her…!

“You’re a fool.” He growled out loud. “You’re asking me to loan you this? To save your brother?…” I’m here to hurt her. “Don’t you know who I am and what I’ve done?”

She stared at him blankly. “Well… Yeah, you’re the shapeshifter guy…? You kinda--”

“My name is Sam, and I’m your enemy.” He explained. “And as for what I’ve done, did you know your brother’s death was no accident?” He held up the machine. “I just used this to kill him, stupid. He’s dead because of ME. And I’m proud of it. Because I hated him.”

Mabel eased slowly up to a sitting position in one corner of the room, and then even slower to her feet. “Oh…” Her voice became small and flat, as she considered this latest revelation for a minute. “Oh.” She finally repeated.

He nodded. “Now what do you think of that?”

“Well… Uh…” Mabel’s shoulders shuddered briefly. “That’s… Kind of… Mean.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he’d heard that right. “Mean.”

“Yeah, pretty mean…” Mabel informed him. “Like… Pretty selfish too… Most people would be… Nicer than that.”

The two little orifices on the top of his head emitted a snort. Mabel supposed that they must be his nostrils. “Are you… Brain dead?” He asked, as his fangs clicked in amusement. “You do realize what I’m saying, don’t you? That I killed your brother in cold blood? That I’m going to kill your uncle? That your own fate is subject to my whim…? You do understand… Don’t you?”

Mabel wrung her hands inside her sweater sleeves. “…Yeah.” She said. “I get it.”

“…Then why aren’t you thinking dark thoughts?”

Dark thoughts…

Mabel recognized those words. Robbie once said those words. The day that Dipper died, Robbie had stolen her joy with those words. The day she’d brought Robbie along on her happy little adventure, and sent him down into the bunker, he’d come back with those words… Mabel finally put it all together.

“Oh…” She said. “That wasn’t Robbie, that was you… That was when you got out…” Her voice got small. “I let you out.”

“Give the young lady a prize.”

“Uh… Oh… I’m really sorry… I mean! Uh, no, not sorry, I mean good for you! Hi! Welcome to the surface world! Uh… Ooh. Gee. Awkward…”

There was silence for a moment in the room, as the girl and the monster looked at each other, neither one precisely sure what next to do or say. Finally Mabel spoke up again.

“So… Uh… Besides for killing people, what are you doing?” The girl asked. “Like… I’m still kind of confused, and time travel is really complicated so… What’s going on?”

Sam looked at her.

“Well…” He started. “I was just taking care of some business. Making sure that things happened the way they were supposed to. Making sure I got to where I am today. Controlling your very lives.”

“…You can’t control my life.” Mabel frowned.

“Oh, but I can. In fact, I already have… Do you remember this?” He produced a small metal box, popped it open, and removed the robot kitten, of all things.

“Oh… Uh… Hi Juan!” Mabel waved at the little metal creature.

Sam stuffed it unceremoniously back in the box. “You loved it so much that I can use it to manipulate you. I saved it when your family tried to kill it… And now… Oh, I have a wonderful idea! What if I were to give it back to you the next night, with a note attached to it that said you needed to take action? What if that was the spark that lit the fire inside you? What if that were the reason you first launched on your hairbrained quest and accidentally freed me? What if…”

Sam walked over to one of the computers in Ford’s study, and booted it up. When a data entry program appeared, he began to type. “How about it? Am I talking nonsense, or truly writing history here?” He finished typing, and hit another button.

A nearby old-timey printer began to chatter, and it noisily emitted a single small piece of paper. “There!” Sam held up the note and shoved it in Mabel’s face. “Is that the note? Does that sound like something nice enough to get you to do something stupid?”

Mabel read it.

Enjoy the time you have with him.

Because it’s not right for him to stay here long.

Find a good place for him, Mabel. We believe in you.

Be wise and loving. Be his hero. Save his life.

Mabel read it a second time.

“Uh…” She mumbled. “Yeah… That’s the note… Hmm. Oh.”

“Well then.” Sam pulled out the time machine, and disappeared in a flash of light.

Mabel blinked and stared at the place where he’d been standing.

She took a step back, and found herself all the way in the corner of the room.

I always just thought it was an honest, well-meaning invisible wizard who did that. She pounded her forehead with her fists. I just thought ‘hey, there must actually be some decent, happy people somewhere in the world’… But it was all a lie. Everything I did, it was just a random, convoluted, pointless wild goose chase that accomplished nothing except ruining everything.

But… Wait… If Sam DIDN’T give me that note, then I WOULDN’T have done anything, and I WOULDN’T have freed him and he WOULDN’T have given me that note! …But since he DID give me that note, I DID free him, so he DID give me that note… It’s just a weird random circle that happened for no reason except itself! Dang it time travel! Why you gotta be so complicated?!?

…Well… Actually, this entire thing relies pretty heavily on me being stupid. I was so bent on being kind, so determined to find niceness and happiness where there was none, that I turned my brain off entirely.

So if at any time I’d just decided to use my head, then that would’ve been it. And it wouldn’t have happened.

If the time loop ever DID had a cause, then that cause was me.

…

Dipper, what do I DO?

There was another flash of blue light, and Sam was standing there again.

“And that’s it.” He spread his arms grandly, like a magician would after the completion of a spectacle. “I’ve been hopping around doing whatever I please, killing whoever I please. And that’s why your uncle’s gone too. Soon as I’m through with you, I’ll head back in time, take him away, and do as I will…”

“Yeah…” She whispered. “I see.”

“It all fits.” He told her. “I did it. It’s been a complicated equation, but I’m the answer. I’m the end. And that’s what’s happening.”

Mabel bit her lip and squeezed back tears.

You need to be stronger, Mabel. Dipper’s words whispered in the back of her memory. No matter what happens, to me or anybody else, we need you to be strong. Strong enough to hold together when something hits you. Tough enough to take a thousand hits and never break. Be hopeful. Be loving. Be cheerful, and caring, and good… Be that way forever. With or without me. That’s what we need you to do…

Mabel took a deep breath. In an instant, she knew exactly what she had to do. I have a job. She remembered. Fate has a job for sweet, happy, trusting little Mabel, and I’m the only one that can do it.

Time to do it.

“Hey Sam.” She said.

“What?”

“I’m…” She wiped her eyes and struggled to hold her voice steady. She really was afraid. “Uh… Why you haven’t killed me? …Do you like me?”

“I— What?” He grew a couple inches taller and snarled. “I don’t like you.”

“Eh… Well! I mean!” Mabel stuttered. “I mean you must have hated Dippingsauce a lot to kill him, but with me you’re just standing there, so that means you don’t hate me. I mean you don’t have a reason to hurt me and you don’t really want to. And that’s why you don’t. So yeah, so right, so there.”

There was silence for a minute in the darkened room.

Sam hadn’t thought about it like that before. But now that it came down to it, he realized it was true… He didn’t hate her.

He remembered his mother. How she treated everything like an object, or a tool. In all things she acted shrewd, cruel, pragmatic and level. She hurt and killed anyone that ever crossed her, never hesitated to stoop to the sickest, most murderous depths to gain any advantage. Power was the name of her game, and strength was its only rules. That made sense to Sam. That fit with what he knew and had seen. That was the only way it ought to be.

When he realized that he himself didn’t hate somebody… It felt like weakness. Why don’t I hate her?

Why AM I even talking to her, anyway?

What am I trying to do?

He’d come here for revenge; to destroy even the memory of everyone who’d been responsible for what happened to him: Stanford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, Dipper Pines, Wendy Corduroy…

And he’d also wanted to find his people, so that he would no longer be alone. But now that he knew what it meant to be a part of his own family, now I know what his mother expects of an ally, Now… It seemed to him that he hated her as much as he hated the rest of his enemies.

But that was also none of Mabel’s business.

Sam opened his mouth to growl something, but the girl was already talking again. “I dunno about you, but I want a happy ending!” She stated. “And I bet deep down you actually want to help me! Because really everybody wants everything to turn out alright. So do you think there’s any chance you could have a change of heart and start being a good guy instead of a bad guy anytime soon?”

Sam blinked as if in shock, having a hard time believing that such a train of thought could even exist. “…Really…?”

“Come on!” Mabel pleaded. “I know you can’t be all bad! You let me sit on your lap and drive when you were pretending to be Robbie! And how about Tambry? She’s been on her Facepage account, and her Bumblr account, and her Chirper account, and all her accounts all week really, talking about how great the concert was and how great Robbie was but you were Robbie!”

“I had to learn to operate a vehicle.” He explained. “You were the only one around with a rudimentary understanding. That wasn’t you sitting on my lap, that was me tricking you into teaching me. And as for Tambry, I needed to blend in. Killing and eating her wouldn’t have blended in.” Wait, what am I doing? Sam demanded of himself. Am I trying to justify myself to HER? Trying to convince her that I AM a monster?

If you want to convince her of THAT. Another thought intruded on his mind. Just kill her. Remember who and what and where you are. You’ve got places to be and things to do. Standing here chatting with a teenage girl is wasting precious seconds. You were right in the middle of your revenge!

“Well yeah but you still did let me sit on your lap!” She once again interrupted him. “And you still were extra nice to Tambry even when you didn’t have to; so how about it? Maybe you were even happier when you were nice to people! I don’t know, but maybe down deep inside you’re actually a nice person! And the only little problem is that you’re just really angry and mean and evil and think it’s alright to do terrible things, but you’re actually nice… You know, like Beauty and the Beast or Doofenshmirtz or Count Bleck!”

Sam stared at her.

Mabel swallowed quietly.

I have a job to do.

It all led up to this. It all wraps up in this. It all ends now.

She told her foot to take a step forward, but it hesitated. Come on, move you stupid leg! She silently shouted. I need you forward! The place where you aren’t! Just move movemove come on move! Sure it looks like a monster up there, but it’s really a person somewhere inside, a person who needs his justice too! Come on, this is it! Take a step! Her leg wasn’t used to being yelled at, and finally obeyed.

Then she told her other foot to take a step too. It hesitated as well, but obeyed just like the other. She could hear her own heart beating, and knew she had to keep talking so that fear wouldn’t drive her right back.

“S-s-so how about it, Sam?” She asked, and with a monumental effort forced a smile onto her face. “Maybe… Maybe we could work together to make everything right again! Maybe you don’t have to be the bad guy, maybe you don’t have to be alone, or sad, or angry… Maybe everything could be okay if you just stop thinking dark thoughts…”

She was close enough to touch him now. Close enough to smell his breath. Close enough that he could injure her by no more than flinching. Close enough to make out every detail of his creepy, slimy body. Close enough to even hug him.

“Come on, Sam…” She said. “Don’t you want a happy ending?”

In spite of himself, Sam considered it.

He weighed all sides of the issue. He remembered all the evil that had been done between him and this family he was killing. Stanford and Fiddleford’s experiments, and the years spent locked underground. Dipper and Wendy’s attempts at his life… But in return… There was everything he’d done back to them… So Sam then wondered about forgiveness: could this family forgive him? And could he forgive this family? Was forgiveness possible after things such as this? Could there ever be peace?

…And were friends something he ever wanted? He remembered the time spent with Tambry. Indeed, the best week of his life had been the one where she loved him; where he had people around to laugh and joke and eat and sing with. Nowhere, in all the revenge and violence or deceit since, had he ever tasted anything as sweet as love…

…But would any of it be worth it, to forsake the destiny his mother had laid out for him? She would have him live a life of lies, violence, malice… And with that life would come strength, power, greatness… A chance, perhaps, to one day return to his people, even earn their respect. He could earn allies, powerful allies. He could have anything he wanted…

Anything he wanted…

But what if peace was what he wanted?

Sam thought about these matters.

And then he made his decision.

He raised his hands in the air, and brought them down hard. Mabel’s body broke and twisted and came to pieces as he smashed her to death. And each blow brought more resolution, more clarity, more confidence to his soul, as he knew then and there exactly the type of man he was. But it also broke his heart, for he knew that he was throwing away what could be his one and only chance at honest friendship.

In that moment, he hated himself more than he had ever hated another, so that he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and longed more than anything in the world to change his decision. But there was no going back on it now; he had sealed his soul and his fate, with a sin so cruel and monumental that could not be undone, even within his own mind. And with this burden on his heart, he turned and left the lab, to continue a life that led ever deeper into darkness.

At least.

That’s exactly what would have happened.

But instead, before he made his decision, while he still thought about these matters, he was distracted. And while he was distracted, Mabel’s hand darted forward, and plucked the time machine out of his hand.

The action was so quick, so nimble, and so utterly unexpected, that he didn’t even have time to react until she was already gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

Already gone.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D. (somewhen)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

The ethereal blast of the time-jump left her disoriented as her feet touched down in Ford’s study in some other distant time. She wasn’t sure exactly when she was, she just knew that she was safe.

It worked. Mabel gasped.

As soon as she was sure, her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the cold wooden floor, crying and shaking and maybe even laughing just a tiny little bit. “I’m sorry…” She blubbered. “I’m sorry Sam… I’m sorry… I lied… You…” She choked. “You don’t get a happy ending you gross, fat, lying, murdering, poop-headed JERK! …You killed my brother… Nobody… Nobody gets to do that… Nobody… Nobody… Nobody…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (about the same time, maybe a little before)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (some place on the way back from the Shifter’s lair)

The close metal walls of the alien ship creeped with slime, rust, and decay. In every direction they stretched, great decrepit monoliths interwoven with deliberate purpose by beings long since dead. The trusses and members of the walls curved over and beneath and around the hallways, like the uneven, bloated ribs of some monstrous, shapeless corpse. The rays from the headlamp reflected strangely off the faded metal surfaces, casting shadows shaped like reflections, and reflections shaped like shadows.

It was a scary place on its own. Human minds have always guarded a natural fear of the strange and unknown, and this environment seemed designed to foster such unease. Any pillar might seem to hide an enemy. Any dark area might conceal death. Everything but the very nearest walls were a mystery, forgotten since time out of mind.

Wendy should have been afraid.

But this place wasn’t strange or unknown to her any more. She understood it, and the very real, very dangerous threats that inhabited it: the cold reckoning and electronic reflexes of patrolling security machines, and the wily, bloodthirsty intelligence of a timeless, formless beast. There was a reason, she knew, that this place had gone unnoticed for so very long: everybody who ventures inside was killed. Murderous natures did lurk around every corner. Fear was never irrational.

Wendy should have been afraid.

And yes, she did want out of here.

Yes, she wanted nothing but to return to peaceful places, to be reunited with loved ones, and to lie quietly at home in the light, far from harm and the burden of destiny and violence.

Yes, she was in phenomenal pain.

Yes, she was probably bleeding out.

Yes, she was trying very hard to keep her eyes open, because she knew that if she bent over and fell asleep now, she would never awake.

But she wasn’t afraid.

Not even a little.

Not anymore.

Her slow, limping trudge was interrupted by a quiet noise from somewhere up ahead. A pair of security drones hovered around a corner and fixed her with their unwavering red stare. Beneath their smooth surfaces, all manner of weapons charged and readied.

But their sensors swept her, and found none of the usual chemical markers of hostility. They saw her calm. Perhaps one of them sent a request to the security officer, asking for input on how to deal with this subject. But the officer never responded.

“Don’t even try it.” Wendy muttered up at their unhearing stares. “She’s already dead. And I’m already gone.”

She never stopped walking. And the drones did nothing but watch as she approached, watch her pass between them, and watch her backside as she continued on her way.

Soon now… So soon, and it would all be over. Once she finished her tasks and closed all the time loops, she would be free to undo all of history. Return things to the way they were supposed to be. Return to peaceful days free of sickness. Return to the nights when she could sleep easy. Return to a time when killer robots were the worst she had to deal with.

Return to the mission.

Return to him.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:28pm (less than a minute after Sam’s appearance)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

Ford didn’t honestly have time to put together what all was happening. All he knew was that somehow, the shapeshifter was right here in the Shack, his niece was helpless and asleep behind him, and this thing is a much faster than I…

Strong hands grabbed him by the collar and hurled him headfirst toward the wall. He winced instinctively to prepare for the impact, as he reached for a weapon hidden in his coat.

Then there was a flash of blue light, and he didn’t hit the wall; he hit Mabel.

They both went into a pile on the floor.

“OOF! HEY! WHAT?!?”

Mabel stood back up unharmed and ecstatic. “It worked! It worked!” She blared like a siren. “I saved you! It worked!”

“Umm! Uh! Agh! What’s happening?” He staggered to his feet and drew the gun. He saw the shapeshifter standing in the middle of the room, frozen mid-throw… And he saw that Mabel was still where he’d left her, asleep in the chair. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure who he should be aiming at: the frozen shapeshifter, or the mysterious second Mabel?

Before he could do either, the mysterious second Mabel had her arms wrapped tightly around his hips, squeezing him in a tight hug and jumping up and down at the same time.

“I can’t believe I did it! It worked! It worked! I time-traveled like an expert pro and I froze time and I saved you! At first I was confused because time machines should just have only two buttons, for forward and backward, but instead it had a bunch of other buttons and one of them said ‘FRZ’ which I first thought stood for ‘Fat Rolling Zebras’ but then I realized it stood for ‘FReeZe’ as in ‘freeze,’ so I tried it out and time froze so here we are, and I’m sorry when I’m excited I tend to deliver exposition in really long unbroken sentences!” She finally took a breath. “But anyway it’s like destiny or something! IT WORKED!”

Ford poked his fingers up under his glasses to rub his eyes, then tried to compose himself as he waited for the spots to clear. He took a deep breath. He was still sick with a high fever, and still running on about 2 hours of sleep; not the best conditions to go on any type of adventure, let alone making sense of whatever the heck this was. “Okay.” He said anyway. “I think I got it, but just in case… Would you remind repeating all that again? Significantly slower this time please.”

Sam stared at the place where Mabel had disappeared, having taken his fate, his hope, and his one possession with her.

He had been tricked.

But he was not unintelligent. He was not unfamiliar with the way time travel worked. He knew in an instant what this meant.

It meant that she was going to save her uncle. That had been the real reason he disappeared. It was her who’d taken him, not to kill him as Sam would have, but to save him. Now that Sam’s greatest, oldest enemy had access to the tape, Sam realized that he could be easily killed at any time. Just as I killed the boy. At any point they could freeze the flow of time, and appear among that breach in the flow with a deadly weapon at the ready. I won’t see anything. I won’t feel anything. At any moment now, any moment at all, I’ll see a flash of bluish light, and when it fades, I will stand with a mortal wound.

Any moment now…

Any moment now, and the good guys will win.

Any moment.

Sam stared at the place on the floor.

He imagined Mabel standing there again, and tried to think what he might try to say to her if he could. What could he say? Could he apologize? Could he beg? Could he undo time and give her back her beloved brother? No… Yes… No… Perhaps… If only she were here again… Oh, who am I kidding? If she were here again, the only smart option would be to kill her again…

Then he imagined Stanford there, and tried to rehearse what he might say to him. Could he reason with him? Could he accuse him? Or just beg for mercy all over again; beg to be consigned to another terrible life in a cold prison beneath the ground? It would be so much better than death… ANYHING was better than death. Anything but that cold, dark, mysterious hell… No… No, if Ford were here, I would just attack him again. Because I will not suffer prison again. Never, not again, not one minute more. Death, any death, would be better than that.

He imagined Tambry there. What the devil could he say to her? Perhaps, before he died, he would have liked to tell her that he really did love her. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he wished so badly that it was. Most of all, he would’ve just liked to thank her for loving him, and for leading him through the one beautiful week he’d ever had in his life; the one he’d spent in the light. That, he knew, was true. Oh, Tambry… If you were here… I could tell you that I did indeed love you… But if you were here, you would finally see me for who I really am, and then you would hate me, just like all the others. You would hate me for being a monster. And I would kill you and possibly eat you, because… Because…

Why? Why are you so bloodthirsty, Sam? Why is every inclination of your soul only evil all the time? How did you come to be the monster that you are? What foul soul did you inherit from that psycho mother of yours? What black deeds must she and her kind have done, far away and long ago, so black and pitiless and cruel that they echo right down to you…?

Then he imagined his mother there.

And he couldn’t imagine a single thing he could possibly say to her. He couldn’t even bring himself to meet her eyes. He bowed his head.

“You’re weak.” In the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s words whispering down at him. “If you were strong, you could have killed him when you were a child. If you were strong, you could have escaped. If you were strong, you could have killed them all. If you were strong, you could have been worthy to stand, worthy to be called my son. If you were strong… If you were strong… If you were strong…

If I was strong…

Sam couldn’t cry. His eyes didn’t naturally have any tear ducts, for his body was slimy enough already. And he couldn’t’ scream. He’d never screamed before, only roared or snarled. But those were sounds for anger, for fight-or-flight, for pain of the body. He didn’t know what sound to make for this pain of the soul, or for this incredible, overpowering mortal fear. He knelt down on the floor and he wondered if he could pray at least.

Dear God.

Dear God…

…

God, I hate you too.

There was nothing else to say, nothing at all.

But a song did come to mind.

It was an old, classic song, one that McGucket used to play 30-something years ago, down in the lab on an old record player. It was long ago in Sam’s youth, and he hadn’t quite understood the meaning of the words back then. But he recalled them now, and now he understood. Indeed, it seemed as if it had been written for him, so he quietly recited it.

“Well, my name, it is Sam Hall, Sam Hall.

Yes, my name, it is Sam Hall, it is Sam Hall.

My name it is Sam Hall, and I hate you one and all.

And I hate you, one and all,

Curse your eyes.

…

I killed a man, they said, so they said.

I killed a man, they said, so they said.

I killed a man, they said, and I smashed in his head.

And I left him lying dead,

Curse his eyes.

…

But a-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go while you critters down below,

Yell up, “SAM I TOLD YOU SO!”

Well curse your eyes.

…

I saw Mabel in the crowd, in the crowd.

I saw Mabel in the crowd, in the crowd.

I saw Mabel in the crowd and I hollered, right out loud,

“Hey there Mabel, ain’t you proud?

Curse your eyes.”

…

Then the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

Ah, yeah, the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

The sheriff, he come to and he said “Sam, how’re you?”

And I said, “Well, sheriff, how’re you?

Curse your eyes…”

…

My name is Samuel, Samuel.

My name is Samuel, Samuel.

My name is Samuel, and I’ll see you all in hell.

And I’ll see you all in hell.

Curse your eyes…”

He shifted one of his hands into a long, bony stinger. And he placed it under his chin. He lowered the bone density in his skull so that it would be easy and painless.

“…And I’ll see you all in hell…

…Curse your eyes…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (one hour previously)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (last known location of Wendy, Stan, McGucket, and Robbie)

A short time jump, a two-mile walk, and a seemingly endless ladder later, Ford and Mabel found themselves slowly and stealthily progressing through the engine room of the alien spacecraft. Mabel’s story mulled around in Ford’s head, while worry and anger built up in his chest.

“Wow, this place is creepy. How come you never brought me down here? Are there lots of aliens? It’s dirty down here. They must have run out of soap. And did they invent sparkles on their world? We need to take them to our glitter. Wow, di-”

“And you’re sure the Valentino boy was replaced?” Ford interrupted.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “You’re sure that he went down here with everyone?”

“Yes…” Ford hissed. His worry increased with the darkness and the silence and their depth beneath the ground, and his anger increased with Mabel’s constant talking and chattering and cheeriness. Why couldn’t she just calm down and be quiet? Didn’t she realized the danger wasn’t yet passed?

Eventually, the walls began to shake, and a great noise filled the air. Ford pulled Mabel for cover, and they sat there together in the dark, waiting for the noise to pass. Ford realized that it must be McGucket; he must have gotten the ship’s reactor working again… At least he hoped it was him… He hoped his friend was still alive, still in control… One worry on top of another.

“So what are we doing down here, again?” Mabel asked.

Ford’s patience was growing dangerously thin.

“We.” He growled. “Need to find the others, and warn them about the shapeshifter. There’s no telling where and when it has been, or what it did, before you trapped it. It could have been here right at this very moment…!”

“That last sentence was pretty confusing, but okay, I’ll be quiet!” Mabel whispered a little too loudly. “Wait, hold on, when are we right now? Are we in the present?”

“Every time is the present when you’re in it.” Ford rolled his eyes. “It’s a subjective term.”

“Brain hurting…”

“To answer your question, we’re about an hour before you stole the time machine from it. With any luck, that will prevent it from seeing us coming.”

“Hmm… Okay, yeah, but actually, I think he’s a ‘he’ not an ‘it’. I mean since he has a soul and everything.”

“What?”

“Right? I mean, living underground for so long probably made him really sad and angry. And now that he’s out, he got a name, and a mom, and he really started to… You know, really become his own person and everything… Like, his revenge is wrong and everything, but it still makes sense…”

“The… The… The ability to think…” Ford stuttered. “D-d-doesn’t make you a person. Neither does the ability to lie. But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that we find everyone else, get them to safety, and get out again without being seen by something worse…”

“Stealth mode… Activated.” Mabel pulled her sweater up over her nose, and combed her hair into a ninja mask.

Ford paused to stare at her. “…Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better at least!” He suddenly burst. “You know, for a girl who just lost her brother to a murderous monster that she unleashed herself, you’re acting awfully chipper, you know that?”

That hurt.

But Mabel was used to hurt after all this. She’d already reached rock bottom today. Rock bottom was a terrible place to be… But Dipper had met her there. He’d still loved her there, and he’d helped her rise back up.

“He forgave me.” Mabel said.

Ford lost his temper as he stood up and continued down the passage. “Then he’s a BETTER MAN than I!”

That hurt even more.

Mabel was silent from that point on.

And Ford pushed onward, trying to ignore his own guilt, as he wondered if perhaps he was the one the shifter truly hated. Perhaps all of this was just an elaborate, contrived ploy to get back at him… Perhaps it’s all my fault. Perhaps that really was an intelligent creature I locked in my lab for all those years. Perhaps if I’d treated him as an equal, or a friend, or a child, then… No. NO! It’s an ‘it’! It’s evil! It killed! And it will kill again! Ford pushed his guilt, and his doubt, and all other cluttering, pointless thoughts toward the back of his mind. And he promised to think about it later; sometime when everything was safe. Sometime when he could afford to waste even a single moment on such thoughts. Sometime when real people, when humans, when family, weren’t in danger of death.

Finally, a dim yellowish light appeared not far ahead, reflecting green off the bluish walls. They rounded one last corner to find the light shining out through a crack in a heavy metal door; Ford recognized it as the entrance to the control room. Somebody must still be inside. Please be Fiddleford and Stan. Please be alive…

But then Ford noticed something very odd: this hallway had been rather empty the last time he’d been down here. But now it was messy; cluttered with debris and broken machinery and thousands of shards of shattered glass. He motioned Mabel to a standstill, and pulled out a magnet gun as he bent to inspect the wreckage. He recognized a lot of these parts; fusion pulse weapons, tentacled robot arms, and scraps of spherical glass shells, perhaps 2 meters wide.

“What’s all this clutter? Was this an alien attic or something?” Mabel whispered from his elbow.

“No, these are security drones… Or they were…” Ford poked at it with the barrel of the magnet gun.

“Are they all dead?”

“Well it definitely appears as if… Wait.” Ford’s eyes swept the carnage. Toward the opposite end, a single motor twitched. One of the red triangular eyes lit up briefly to look at him.

Ford flipped the gun to its pulse setting, and shot it. The red eye flashed, and sparks arced across its body, frying and scrambling its circuits. The remains of its artificial intelligence realized it ought to send some manner of report back to the central mainframe, but it was so frazzled that its last words ended up being nothing but an incoherent string of nonsense: “INTRUDERS DETECTED INCONCLUSIVE REFERENCE CODE RETURN THREAT LEVEL UPGRADED TO JELLY ROLL ONE: ERROR 443\]kl;/oij#JE’~~3Dde~~~…” It broadcasted with the last of its consciousness.

“Now they’re all dead.” Ford answered confidently.

“Okay. So-”

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” A new voice spoke up, coming from the control room entrance. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Ford spun on his heels. The narrow sliver of light creaked open to its full width, and the silhouette of his twin brother was suddenly standing in the gap.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (concurrent)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (Wendy)

It seemed like hours of walking, with the pain burning through every wound in her body, blood pooling from the spike in her stomach, and her legs stiff beneath her. It was probably only 20 minutes or something, but still.

Finally, she reached the control room at the ship’s center, and pulled the tape to jump back to right before she’d heard the ship’s engines going off; back when she’d first realized drones were being sent to kill McGucket and Stan.

She hit the ‘freeze’ button on the tape as she appeared, and took a moment to look around. Sure enough, there were no fewer than 8 drones approaching the control room, and sure enough, the old men had no idea what was coming. Stan was even asleep.

Ugh.

Well, they’re too high of the ground to use an axe… And I left the ray gun somewhere… Ugh… Oh hey, wait, McGucket brought that new death ray of his, didn’t he? Yeah, he has it down here…

She stumbled into the control room, unfroze the massive weapon, and brought it back outside.

Okaaaay, soo… How do you turn this thing on?

She messed with it for a couple seconds, flipping this switch and that, pulling the trigger, and scratching the record (why is there a record player?) Eventually she found a switch that made it make a whole lot of funny noises, and another one that turned on the ‘ignition’ light. The weapon roared to life in her hands, and a swirling, glowing pink ball of pure sci-fi-ness formed a few inches from the tip. She aimed it upwards at the first drone and pulled the trigger.

Wham.

The time-frozen room glowed with brilliant pink light for a moment, as the superheated beam tore through the robot’s shell. The grass cracked, the metal components melted, and its batteries violently burst.

But time was still frozen, so its debris just hung motionless in the air, mid-explosion, as Wendy aimed the weapon at the next drone.

Wham.

And the next.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Finally they were all dead, and Stan and McGucket were safe.

Huh. Wow. She looked down at the death ray. I actually REALLY like this thing. She unfroze time just long enough to watch the robots’ wreckage clatter to the ground, and catch the stench of warm smoke. Then she dropped the death ray where she stood, and stepped back into the shadow of a nearby pipe to think through strategy: Okay, so they’re safe, that’s a real load off. But now how do I find Sam? How do I get myself medical attention when I can’t trust anyone? How do I keep him from killing Mabel and Ford and everybody else? Where do I go from here?

Oh man, I’m still bleeding…

Every time she thought about her injury, it seemed to be getting worse. And always she seemed to be getting tired faster. Things were getting… Weird… And every time she sat down, it was harder and harder to force herself to stand back up.

After 10 minutes of balancing torture and sleep, she was forcefully drug out of her brooding by the sudden loud discharge of a magnet gun.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stan’s distant voice mirrored her thoughts. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Wendy forced herself to an upright sitting position, and peaked around the pipe to see what was happening.

Much to her surprise and suspicion, she saw two guests that she’d presumed dead.

“Ford?”

“Stanley, is that you?”

“Bro, why are YOU down here? I told you to get some rest!”

“The real question is why y’all’re down here!” Mabel piped up. “It’s colder and creepier than the county jail down here! Heck, creepier than a unicorn dungeon! Dare I say, even creepier than a gnome drunk-tank!”

“Mabel!” Stan noticed his great niece standing there with him. “Sweetie! Are you okay? What’re you…? What’re you both doing down…?”

“Stanley give me your hand.” Ford commanded, rushing up to him. “Here. Now. Give it. Quickly and quietly now; we haven’t got all day. Mabel, stand guard, would you?”

“What woah hey what’s the matter with-” Stanley began to protest as Ford grabbed his wrist, drew a small knife, and pricked a hole in Stan’s palm. Stan drew his hand back as fast as he could react, and clutched his wounded fist to his chest. “OW HEY GEEZ FORD WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!? YA COULDA KILLED ME!”

“I… I was just…” Ford looked at the drops of red fluid trickling out of his brother’s fist. “Red blood. Good. My apologies, it was a necessary evil. Stanley, we’ve got a-”

“Look poindexter, I don’t gotta put up with this! I’m OLD!”

“We’ve got a problem.” Ford continued. “Where’s Robert?”

“I said I’m too old for this!” Stan gave one last try at driving the idea appropriately far into his brother’s brain. “TOO. OLD… And wait, who in Stalin’s pits is ‘Robert’…?”

“The Valentino boy! Shaggy, gangly little creature. Wears a hoodie? Eyeliner? Human, I believe.”

“…Oh you mean Robbie? Yeah, he was here earlier. McGucket said he ran off with Wendy about an hour ago. Thought they’d be back by now.”

“Oh, blast it all…” Ford nervously glanced about.

Wendy sighed, and drew her axe. If Ford and Mabel were real, then that was 4 of her friends accounted for, and she could get their help. But if one of them was the Shifter… She didn’t know how she’d face him in her current state, but it would be better to get it out of the way now than later. “ALL RIGHT YOU TWO…” She announced, as loudly and strongly as she could muster. “HERE’S HOW IT IS.”

Everyone turned about, looking for the source of her voice. Ford drew a ray gun and pointed it toward her hiding place in a fit of panic.

“Stan 2…” She struggled upright, using her axe like a walking stick. “You… You know about the shapeshifter… Which means you either beat him, or you are him. So… So prove the first one or I swear I’ll, like… Do something bad…”

“Uh… I can vouch for him!” Mabel spoke up. “He ain’t been out of my sight!”

“And I can vouch for Mabel…” Ford said. “But now YOU… Uh… You’d better be the real Wendy…!”

Wendy figured that was proof enough. Or maybe it wasn’t… Oh, heck if she knew. And even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t fight like this…

She stepped out into the light.

She was bleeding the color red from enough places that they no longer found her suspect.

“Geez, girl, you alright?!?” Stan took in her injuries. “C’mon, sit down! What got ya?”

“Uh…” Wendy finally seemed to partially relax, and let Stan lead her over to a big, round alien chair in the control room. “You… You guys are all okay… You’re all alive. I thought…”

“Wendy, I’m dreadfully sorry, but we have bigger problems!” Ford told her. “We have reason to believe that the Shapeshifter had a parent, likely possessing time-travel capabilities of far-reaching extent. Have you s-”

“Neutralized.” Wendy collapsed into the chair, while Stan fumbled with a first aid kit. “I… T-t-took care of it.”

Ford blinked. “You… Did? It’s captured?”

“Dead.” Wend winced as Stan lifted her jacket to inspect the wound. “She’s dead.”

Mabel put her hand over her mouth. “You killed her?”

Ford frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeh.” She grunted quietly.

“Uh…” Ford noticed the greenish filth covering her shirt and forearms for the first time, and was shocked to realize it was all blood. “Uh… Y-y-yes…” He stuttered. “I should think so…”

“Where’s…” Wendy grunted. “W-w-where’s the other one? The first one? Has anyone seen him?” She fixed her eyes on Ford and Mabel. “YOU’VE seen him. Where is he? I’m going to kill him too…”

“The heck you are!” Stan growled, as he kept pressure on her wound with one hand, and rustled through the first-aid kit with the other. “I ain’t no doctor, but you’re in a real bad way, so you’re staying right here until we get ya patched up. You shouldn’t even be walking!”

“Yeah… Yeah I am…!” Wendy pulled a time tape out of her pocket, and coughed. “I know I am, because this one just came flying out of the air at me at the start of the battle, and there’s no way for me to get it except prying it from his cold dead hands and that means I-”

“Wait…” Ford snatched the machine from her grip, and inspected it closesly. It was perfectly identical to the one they’d taken from Sam, right down to the same exact dents and scrapes. He pulled its duplicate out of his pocket. “No, we already did… It’s the same one…”

Wendy stared. “…You mean… You got him…?”

Ford nodded. “Neutralized…”

Wendy blinked tiredly. “Oh.”

“And so if I’m understanding this right, this one a past version of this one…” Ford held up the two tapes. “You have to help me understand this, I-”

“Ford.” Stan growled, as he glared at his brother. “I’ve got my fingers in this girl’s INNARDS trying to pull out a HARPOON, and you’re trying to TECHNOBABBLE with her. Stop talking.”

“…Well. Wait…” Ford scratched his head. “Okay. I know how I can help. I know what I can do… I just need to know where this ‘fight’ is…”

All of a sudden, there was a flash of blue light, and another Ford appeared standing in the room, looking as if weary from a journey. “Well, that’s that…” The second Ford sighed. He glanced at present Ford. “Take the Norther cargo doors out of the engine room, then follow the 3rd hallway on the left as far as it goes. You’ll reach a loose hatch in the left wall near where it’s collapsed, and you can find your way from there.” She pointed to the tape he’d taken from Wendy. “Use that one to return to now.”

“Got it.” The first Ford nodded.

“Also, don’t interfere with anything!” The second Ford added. “DON’T interfere. It already happened the way it did. She got hurt, but she won, so you don’t DARE even RISK messing ANYTHING up…”

“Understood.” Present Ford disappeared, and everybody was left staring at the second Ford: the one who’d just come back from completing the final mission.

“That… That’s that…” Ford sighed.

“That’s it…?” Wendy whispered, scarcely daring to believe it. “That’s it…” She realized it was true, and had a feeling as if a great load had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders.

“What’s it?” Mabel scratched her head.

“I’m kinda perplexified by what gist happened…” McGucket admitted.

“I’ve learned to accept my confusion for what it is.” Stan had totally ignored everything in the past two minutes. But now he sat back, wiped his hands on his shirt, and looked at his brother. “Okay, I think I got the bleeding stopped; least until we can get back to the Shack. So. Now we can talk.”

“Okay… I’ll see if I can put this into simple words…” Ford adjusted his glasses and prepared. “So… Wendy… Ah… Wendy just got through with a… Fight. A very… Intense fight; I watched the whole thing. And… I now no longer doubt Stanley’s claim that her father can wrestle a bear. Also… Wendy, I have to say that you’re much smarter and tougher than I ever gave you credit for. And I don’t doubt that your grit, ingenuity, and unsettlingly high tolerance for pain just saved all our lives.”

“Gee thanks.” She mumbled. “But you coulda helped out too while you were there…”

“Couldn’t risk it.” Ford stated briefly. “Now, moving on. A number of… ‘Stable time loops’ were employed during all today’s events. Things happened the way they did because time travel forced them to happen the way they already did. Information and persons traveling backward through a stable time-like curve result in recursive causality.”

“Ford.” Stan frowned. “Yer technobabbling again. We’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry, sorry… Anyway… To summarize, things were weird.” Ford summarized. “But now… To the very best of my knowledge, all those time loops are ‘closed’. That is, we’ve completed all the actions needed to make things happen the way they have. And, by some miracle of either talent, intelligence, luck, or all three, the way they happened is that we won. It’s all done. We are now officially free to live out the rest of our lives without fear of the Shapeshifters.”

“You mean Sam and his mom.” Mabel corrected him.

“I…” Ford considered that. “Yes… Yes… Sam and it’s… And his mom. We are free to live without fear of Sam and his mother.”

“But we won’t.” Wendy muttered.

“Hmm?” Ford clarified. “What did you say?”

“We won’t.” Wendy repeated. “Dipper’s dead. And we ain’t gonna leave him that way.”

“Oh, and also Robbie!” Mabel added. “Robbie’s probably dead too.”

“And Robbie.” Wendy agreed. “Right… Keep forgetting about him. But anyway, we’re going to save them. And… Okay. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’ve got a good plan. I think that if I went back alone, there’s one single moment that I could change. And if I change it, if I knew then what I know now, then none of this would have happened. I know exactly where I need to go…”

“Well…” Ford winced as he looked down at the tape. “I’m… I’m not sure we can undo Dipper’s death with these. They seem to form stable time loops only and-”

“There’s a switch on the side.” Wendy sighed. “When it’s engaged, you don’t time-travel like normal, it just beams back your brain. It replaces a version of yourself at a previous date. Good for fixing mistakes, I guess.”

“Oh.” Ford flipped the switch, and then stared at the tape again for a minute or so. “But…” His voice was small. “But if we undo everything…”

“Yep. Sam’s mom will be back alive.” Wendy admitted, wishing she could forget that detail. “And Sam will be back in the bunker. It’ll be like nothing happened, because nothing did.”

“You… You saw her though!” Ford wished he wasn’t making the argument that he was. “You saw how dangerous she is! How psychopathic she is! How many people she’s killed! You LIVED through the experience of how MUCH it takes to DESTROY her! We CAN’T risk undoing that! Suppose she catches even the faintest HINT of what happened?!? She could be anywhere, anyone, anywhen…! She-”

“That’s less important!” Wendy retorted.

“It’s not that simple!” Ford pleaded. “Do you have any idea how lucky we were today?!?”

“I have an idea that I didn’t fight across time and space just to hide for the rest of my sorry, miserable life!” Stan tried his best to stop her, but Wendy pushed him aside and struggled to her feet, pressing her arm to her stomach to keep the bandages in place. She stepped right up into Ford’s face, and glared. “I did it because my best friend died, and I want him back…” She told him. “Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I just want to start fresh. So GIVE me back that tape, or YOU are an obstacle.”

“…Ms. Corduroy.” He said. “Be reasonable-”

“Mabel, go for it.” Wendy sighed.

Mabel leapt off a high shelf, and landed on Ford’s back. Her arms and legs all entwined themselves about his face and right arm, and her hair got in his eyes. He stumbled a little bit and almost fell over, so Wendy kicked him in the chest to finish the job, and the time machine flew out of his hand and into the air.

By the time Ford regained his composure, he was lying on the floor, bruised and coughing. Wendy and Mabel were standing over him.

And Stan had caught the tape.

“Stanley…” Ford coughed. “Stanley, you… We… You must realize this is foolishness…! You know we can’t do this again…!”

Stan stared at the tape.

He thought about it all for a good long minute.

“Y’know Poindexter…” He hummed. “When we were out sailing the world this last year… When we heard the siren’s song, did we turn around?”

“We… What?” Ford frowned.

“No. We didn’t.” Stan said. “What did we do? We pulled out our hearing aids, we sailed right in, we kicked their tails, and we found a whole chest of pearls, now didn’t we?”

“Well… Well, yes, I suppose we did, but what does that have to do with-”

“And how about when we ran into that bounty hunter? Did we hide from her? What woulda happened if we hid from her?”

“Then… Then we would have had to leave the rocket launcher behind…?” Ford frowned. “…And… I don’t know, probably would have been defenseless against the cyclocks…”

“And how about that one warlord? If we woulda put up our hands and backed out of that business, we’d be permanently banned from Peru, not to mention never meeting all those babes in that harem of his…”

“We’re in mixed company, Stanley.” Ford glanced toward the children.

“And how ‘bout Bill?!?” Stanley demanded. “When Bill had you during Weirdmageddon, WE were all SAFE! We coulda RAN! Left the town scot-free! Instead these morons drag me along to give up everything for your stupid hide, and wouldn’t ya know it, we just so happened to save this whole lousy dimension along the way!”

Ford nodded.

“And my brain…” Stanley said. “Soon as my mind was wiped, you all started right in helping me back up; mixing up old memories, tickling the old thinker, making me a Grunkle again… Even though ya must’ve worried that you might’ve been stirring Bill up too… Ya coulda left it be, but nooooo, instead you loved me too much, and now we all gotta worry that maybe he’s still rattling around in there, kicking stones and twisting wires…”

“If he ever comes back we can deal with it…” Ford growled.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Stan agreed. “That’s seriously, like, the moral of our entire adult lives; that we DON’T RUN…! Remember, we’re PINES! And Pines don’t leave family behind. We stand by each other through thick and thin… We’re there for each other! No matter what! Seriously, get your head in the game, poindexter…”

Ford’s eyes fell.

The room was silent for a moment.

“All right.” Ford whispered.

Stan handed the tape to Wendy. “Go get ‘em, sweety.”

“But…” Ford implored. “But we don’t know what’ll happen… Nobody can know…”

“HA HA! Well that’s the funny thing, isn’t it?” Stan chuckled. “Cause we kinda DO! Wendy here says she actually once met a future version of herself!”

“Dude.” Wendy frowned at him.

“Yeah!” Stan continued, with a beaming smile. “She was all grown up and everything! And this freaky chick says that her and Dipper are actually married by then! Can ya believe that?!?”

“What.” Ford’s expression went blank.

“EH?” McGucket almost dropped his glasses.

“SQQUEEEEE!” Mabel instantaneously lost all motor control.

“…You did not just say that.” Wendy glared at her Grunkle. “You gave me your word. You scumbag.”

“Wha-haaaaat? I’m rootin’ for ya babe!” Stan put up his hands and took a step back, smiling broadly. “And besides, this timeline is all gonna get undone anyway, so it’s not like I really spoiled anything!”

“This close.” Wendy growled, holding up her fingers to a very narrow width. “This close to having a brick shoved up your nose.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry… Yeah, uh… Okay, that wasn’t cool.” Stan glanced down at Mabel, rolling around on the floor and frothing at the mouth just a little. “Yeah, uh… Hmm… I guess you better get outta here then…”

“Darn right I better…”

“Hey.” He put a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “You done good kid. I, uh… I dunno what to say besides that this reality bites, so you go back and make a better one. You knock ‘em dead, you grow up to be that hero, and watch out for my nephew, hey? Make sure he does the same.”

“Yeah.”

“And also. You proved me right, kid.” He said sincerely. “This was your day to shine. Even if nobody saw it, you did it, and you proved for good an all that you are that hero. Hope he knows that.”

Wendy nodded.

“…Wait.” Ford said.

They looked down at him.

He stood slowly to his feet, a look of sorrow on his face. “I’m… I’m the villain in this story… I am, aren’t I.”

“The heck are you on about?” Stan frowned at him. “Y’know we’ve got time-traveling booger monsters runnin’ around, not ta mention killer robots up the wazoo…”

“No, I…” Ford rubbed his face through his hands. “I mean… Is it my fault, for treating… For treating ‘Sam’ like I did? Are they just monsters? Or are they people?”

“I treated ‘im bad as you…” Mumbled McGucket. “Like livestock…”

“Hey, what’s done is done.” Stan spread his arms. “Ya didn’t know all this back then, right?”

“But am I still the bad guy?” Ford asked. “Are they people? Do they think, feel, live, choose…”

“I dunno…” Wendy shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then…” Ford nodded. “That means he has a soul. And that means I misused mine. That means that wrong was done… Uh… Would you mind… When you go back, would you mind telling past-me what happened? You don’t have to tell him everything, just… Just, he would have liked to know what could have been avoided… He’d like to know about the shapeshifter… And about who he is… It occurs to me that I’m sorry for what I did to him. It occurs to me I imprisoned him, and treated him unfairly for many years. If he ever could have been anything more than a monster… I’d have liked to know.”

Wendy nodded again. “Alright.”

“Biscuit Brown.” Ford added. “Carrot Costume.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tell past-me that.” Ford nodded. “‘Biscuit Brown’, and ‘Carrot Costume’… They’re codes. So that he’ll know that it’s serious.”

“Okay…” Wendy repeated the codes to herself with a shrug. They were bizarre, and nonsensical, but that’s part of what made them easy to remember. She fished out the pull-tab of the tape measure. “Guess this is goodbye, then, ish.”

“WAITWAITWAIT *cough* I GOTTA *cough* I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I’VE GOTTA COME TOO!”

“No.” Wendy told Mabel.

“BUT! UH! …But what about Robbie? I gotta stop him from going underground where he could get snagged by the shapeshifter! That means I definitely have to come back with you and uh incidentally know your secret also but that’s just a side detail I mean really who cares…”

“Well…” Wendy knew that, objectively, Robbie’s safety was much more valuable than Mabel not knowing. If it meant him living, Mabel had to come. She glared at Stan. “Now look what you’ve did.”

“Sorry.” He winced.

“Okay…” Wendy realized that she was too tired and worn and injured to even care. She glanced back at Mabel. “Fine… But if you tell anyone else…”

“Even Dipper?”

“Especially Dipper… Ugh… If you tell then I’ll…! I’ll… I dunno, I’ll do something bad… Okay?”

“Okay! I get it. You don’t have to worry. And besides, my vast network of spies would have eventually found out anyway, so it’s probably better this way.”

“…Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.”

Wendy held up the time machine, double-checked that the switch was in ‘unstable’ mode, and gripped her hand around the ‘backward’ button.

Mabel put her hand on the device too, so that the field would encompass both of them.

Wendy checked the time on her phone, then pulled the tape out to 4 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes, then double-checked her math.

She knew where she was going.

This was going to work.

“Bye friends!” Mabel said. “We go to the past in the name of the future!”

“Adios.” Stan gave thumbs-up.

“Smell ya later!” Fiddleford danced a little jig.

Ford sighed, and closed his eyes. “Farewell.”

“And that’s all she wrote…” Wendy released the tape.

Voom.

Ph qry ermw, zvy ygo lgnlr bzs.

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Yk hak vlox.

Rto wzwys qry dhw?

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Il ohg u egcrgo, jmfztorauhz jiodof, oocmv zlld, ktcikn haddz kyik mrgclb ierj bq s zaucr xelss bcgvwe, darsfp csejw mciu czudv is xzyaefklr. Uej ehw xscii cls kdvdyu oywsjk zcbk l szsszin iznw, lvkuij l djspb wfbprwv pb zztp mwko; zcbkwy ewhbn ku noddlqn ykc ujaus uej hakll. Gbv ylt mh hbx dugev sycoej ehw jvcg, rto fgmur ck zz bw kv ggrrw tzsa gbv izudv acotn molz zwxvy lt gfjs.

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Lzlm mkank kehzf kuzlk auhi ykc pjazch ku aocw hbx gxzd zwy. Hcjyfe kstdfvy hejw aoevt. Hijwz kyik waav vjyi npr kuhzj ku dcjmawhzfp hwj twhu. Zsejehz, r-igj, afv tcfviflsj kwmgrlcwelbn zslgafn uumk ehwe cwyny lnv yyojyy zf wnlfs jwfajw pbwy uq hwj icxp. Yzmw gm hbv zpslk oilk. Yzmw gm hbvs hejw pbprytvw. Kvay fl ehwe sszk npr laysx rto afyym.

Vlz ehjgbub zz lld, kos hvbpr yscs og npr jwzcfmk lnv zlf wrrx. Afv hg nyk somjz hctqpd tq hbx kacnwv pbnf jlyk, kos qrznhwv avyd, pfsl sz qffyplq sz hbve haluosx ykc. Szw dontnpd lzla fzqp a tayr qrznhwk wfyp, rtkw s nihjrtnywy kukisek s jvucrpnywy, zcbk l dwllqnzbp wsljvyj zse egcsgvte ox s zvuuuhy wflas. Jnp lakashvj eo lzlwl cgygmsns, uej dhw ohhwyko tzwpf avyeujwz ohu zseaj isbrbtojk, hbx jnp csel hi ltoejkaohu zsee. Muryiyeafv avy jizpw sur jlxaokw vt nyktr ogyy, uej ehw kpny rto cgewzyooey gx avcj ysih, sur nyge hwj vkh grlnwl dome’z ehw xpfmk zz rwulwpv yfcz lysukspnl.

Kos ymkytmsszs tgxe lg bbxvxdtsfk hbvs aejxlqnce.

Lnv kos brzpd lzla.

Fftr bwxvfy knp twkag brj noehssnvj, hhadl gbv cls klpzf zt ehw eprmk uq hwj woce, csef kos qry qewdpba ry dmsds ohu gd hwdwzyjy ls kzl spvx, dhw dvcevj zul sa vyi kyeealg, uej xavw osl uknikavb.

Myk xavw hb irzs.

Szw zkiik fpgf owm jufl lzhh myk homdk opvtre zat. Gbv yhojw avuk yse ogbzx fbprugts ucr ehwkl tilr ehafng; mtopnlazhm, juwdawyg, gftdtwjz, ofzkys, sfk shkoce sjtwyj… Yse kovfy knlt kzl kilro gjgd— Ulfc fnlas gbv hpcsel hbv WFEWF vt nyod vwkzsf, rto tzsa gbv czudv RWFC kgejq zwhxrp msf, dcgrt, lnv kuwpvrtny uowfu zsal dpjyu uybgsyr…

Myk dwgjl wn. Lvzn zaz ayducy, sfk ijft lld los xiklmk loon knpy zsk rlvgxt, kzl gqfxp il. Sur qyky szw oox ykc ohhvfnltttq, oosh jknujaam qvte lsp, dvye gwl osz eozke afv avyp gwl zsk hbvoc bsurg nlxyev… Kos qfawd sua ijft tt.

Al dom ftwy s ehhnvx zf lats.

Uej xesfdvcck, dhw ovifu yfrnacs.

“Sfac bagscazill kanbukace vglgh’k sltuz dwny gyy gx avy fzsej uysukacek au vyik, lnv gbf hvacodgnwwrr dcsfz whuonalw avuk ezu darsfp vzskwzg mfsp dwyysy fl deflpshtk. Xojwvjyi, ezu zscsh’k xpshguryu zz tzw asmky ls sf hbcdgw wgmsr, fvgoify bg nf hplawcs nyge ygm hfy zteeflpchrrwy zakwhx ezuj siwfzztek sur cezpldanshtk… Mul… Tbh qv’xp ngl oslv zz hmja mil. Cp rwsszs rxpn’l, A dohk ezu lg bbxvxdtsfk hbrz. He bmzh qrte tg cucq puf. Ww’jl qoiozuk, jpubk? Ezu cfvk qyge cmjpcoj od, dgf’a mil…? Yz… Sg am mil iln mfksljzlnv el, cl zl jom’jl qidvcezwurcem lnqlowhx O’x ssqpba, grpakw nwpv yzmw kvfn fl diyf… P fyrrwy vgu’h gvgy ygm hbs ygcm…”

Kzl zifqpd mh hh Xi. &X/\MJ sk os nrrvev, sur myk fnvwygnfuo pwjmswkrj. Sgelvin zse ‘mfpjyiyll ljhbmcgeoj’ (gy kbrzpvwj os wrrwev loon ukgiuw) zsydko tg tl qidsfnauhhcem oijwjhfp oytg zlf vigtn, kg avuk zse ewhbcem mezaur Xi. &X/\MJ’k fhgucrj, slmjy-og bziuw dom zsaokkppfv zz makz. Pok yse vakb’n ikdpgfk myk. Oy ojvlf zfx ehak ac af npr osf, vy ygo tg ylh bzs eo ljbgn ykc. Szw oox ku rel zpa nf rpt zaz uorxo dgou.

“Dfvgde, s kpuh. Rtj sayu on rrw, rwsszs… Puf kfgd, ky ygo ygm zhiiko walo hbv ayifllzfzmpnl uhfaf, jzwf au hbv rzwwj sspvrd. Ix qvi jiuge lg hqnlgwlq tl o mvteiwfa pyztr, ww uvifu aagjsks sfac salbonzuy walo qyizlif sjqidszdslpchj; lfld-kpnyu wfajllfm, modilgyg, u mgciwlf cz dkllk… Qvi xft’e swwt hi cove lzl ofxgw pskas, vlz he usu tusxtcsll ayrz ls owsz, ii… Uc sowlhm? Uu jom dpyy jcpelk? Johue…?”

Ehak dom ftp ox los mtopnlazhm nnz pjgisx ykc (dav avyp zsifc zvy tuflvf’a fyturnarl vcd?). Hft mfswev zse gloslj, np swwtsx boyd. Kzl’r bvgcd zat cvaknt lg h tyn uq tzw tclv oyvskpjy kkdtk, zl’r xiuapwv swnkrp tjwhhm zteo zwy tyvjtny lbpy wxzm lats nf ztmw, sur bv’j lscwk cpvx lnv gcsl wuc tzw jvueip tg kwsub cttz zlf xzxpcldf. Vy iklldq dom rt sofwzh, qvrw-mwsuwhx, qtnvdf cfu sln, oaavilz lnq ehzctozuk auhyeztofk mcl knp cjwhhoikd hw kaixzko.

“Rwsszs…” Yk znuw huuzt cehwhhyu. “Xpaddf, W xf clnl ooon’j hpsl xvf sfa… Oo qgb… Ri puf hsnl o hrsp? Hsnl o avtoej? Kvaykntny qvi qrte? Afq xiyjztofk mcl dk? Lrw qvi nyk daew zdytops sk avy yudtadlg qyonh slaowbko omj lljcucalavb nvgx…?”

Szw nzueipd sl avy fzsej kjwyeztslk, hg cw yse osz ozigtd gx avyd. Jc. &R/\TB mfintpd, jwjcaeokify osl tuycwju. “Ib… Ln, homdk mil stnv kasjgoyg gma cz knp rggt tii g xoewuh, avtelwelb…?” Bv kycgmyoavj sik uvzfvgruwk, dvcck eujflr ungj fjgt hbv stcjgwviek. “T, uz… A oopv gy ivwh. W nyoyk kzl’g dlye susysx.”

Knpy vak om ztdtjmjhyu, gyd Vj. &Y/\PD kacnwv iowb zz hwj. “Ds’lv gwofw ucq…”

“…De… Xy fsts… Gp tlmw az ███████.” Gbv yaocw pb bvx yalacs frtrusyl, hi uodgmazs nyk qudd llnvte ox zlf cezpldanshtk.

“Fh…” Vj. &Y/\PD jkpmwv zvitqpd. “Owsz bvrwo!” Zw isudko. “I-a-aa’g mf bprq fpqy ku xewl fco, ███████! Knlt’k s cslp rzvwdf budk, fh… A’e zc acgo ygm kswzjpd lg afojz xe…”

“Qgb’fy r ttcw ehb…” Myk fswv h ggrrw taepr pfone, dars nyge ox s scmk mtrd, lv rcjmfikw osl dgwiuw. “P’a mfxcy A vprh’k zllc, A dom aadt kg zquiko, afv P kuezpd lg owxv… Gce… Sjl as dux afv kox zt sejw aci?”

Yk rlsfjsx rxzufv uslmufsdq mcl r ypcgfk. “Ob… Nkwl, fg… Uc, C’d yzrjq, iin pufr egavyi gyd xsavyi… Axm… Vakb’n dgve al. Iin nk’ce sds bctk aeghss bvxp! Ww’jl bik mzify ac blxe ygm! Fco tgy hsnl o hvc soew oslv…”

Gwl zaz kiijd wwjl zcvy, mul kos jzknev lvuyknpr kgts mtxlpk gm hllzs. Sg los myoa mmka vumk wexl vil nuclv. Ol aojz lld tl offtp ngo, vin zt ehw efgnvxtomk cccu. Zsejw pg hf nplh xvf gv, hft lzlfy zy llkg uc bvra fgj avyd… “Axm…” Kzl gbllqlwv osl wkpt. A flsx duce afmcldgeigf. P byvj waqgbhm fl oeucz, shxoyek, uoocey zf ugtauej. T nwwk cok. “Yz… Wzsa wm knts hdhqy vdlcldf?”

Hbv qtnv kjwyeztsl ohgnvj yo lats ce ucgsfpncem l tgmy, gi vgrej ohg bv zz fgkasl tuxmmfpqukozn sfk uifjhidd dwny zsik flkfp-jtsugcslvj tnlwszcxkyt damszfxx. Hw zhr bvx alsulr ce g xuuz avcetpr, hgyhusrp cgfaocekc, afv lgwfxeev zlf nyxzuyz avy cuh-swubfcke lrwsz cz knp szaw, gbfctny zlf nyod afv avuk, kipdspbcem soo los aiggilq kfcmk hojclr, uej ehw zfdyijcinw, hbx knp gqjvgwfvps sfk hbv oxpjgiovzrttq uvflvieigf kmhrszs. Sfk gbv gdkwv awgzj willss mkaaiv ibsmkoznk oowwy np afkdslvj eo lzl pyjz zf zaz ovzrttq.

Oosh knprw ohg zztlldq uc gfxp tg tl uuztpd lzycoxn eadc, zvy rieev. Kos mygaekzptnvj qoj los zzxdt lats mztne zwy shkxlpewuh, nrqtny gu o zfxx sljvba vtzuyz ac viklk lzycoxn ehw ysomj.

Yse jawdyu Jc. &R/\TB’z hbiult gma. Gbv gwsg cpzfvj 6 xojw wsigrp wzg oojgkyev lv py jzlnvauu hvgcbq, sur mgxlywv h hioon sdats uiufnv lv rykkc pmjziyiy. Dhw sas bvx qidd mfid zse tgkwyj (oe wsk zc afuo tg zhjy dklt syhwh), knpn vmjyyu oytg los pvteidsawie yjslwt, kbvxp szw oox r isaful hi jntfl auhi knp fgjt cz r jtfxwyshk yniwfawmk, gyd ugtdijk sejklzz nntlw kos jikaajwk hi gxzpwjsm celtlljhhy knp cjwd.

Pok zse kwjhii cpnl auhi cunkvgdb glis fskasl knln kzl srgkntwv, avy mkytadhhcft ouulz gyrrpd gxm, ohu zse kasshk, lwoslpba xalrvk jogv. Gwtzgbub knpsw jvihu, yeajauu grisifwz kyik calzlf mkaaiv au hbvoc oof ywayz, dhw uvifut’e fggs hbvoc bagtsnion swfzclj; zseq olfy nkwl wibwjgko tg kls nyxzuyz osl uodgmazs. Mf, hpfgjl hbvoc msff kyrvznk, kos mlxcefvlfyu gyd dwa vyiyplx tl rycogejwk putq eo lzl hosk.

Tt kwlayu rtkw s zhyg hlcc, tbh ck clsf’l, mcl jnp hsv ssuitpd. Dwhfhvj zf lzl quggmidaawyj uq hwj lbydops, sfk gidkehafn cz knpij oloeekdswk. Hg nyk hewcz ohu zsokw pbnf sznlzz, ohu gd tzw wceztr afv wfiujtny sur jiumify jchkoyuwv dwnyuft uwhgy, ykc pdsug ymuwvwv hbx xxpw. Xjva bvx eiew vin knprw, kos jlz eoywavyi sptzgkg nf uftoaa hbv jcofwz, hi seaakk scwbjzwfk, ac ezrw enwu aiik aeghss.

Myk vnwo ocq.

Jnp wgmsr mlxginw.

[lonnyrocketreviews-blog]

Rupaul’s Drag Race Season 10 Power Rankings - Ep. 8, (Cher) The Unauthorized Rusical

Fair warning, my brains are still scrambled from last week. This show is going crazy! It’s chaos! It’s so unpredictable! I don’t know what to think anymore. I feel like I just need to...snap out of it!

Actually, with the exception of Kameron winning, I found this episode to be pretty predictable. This episode was pretty much just filler so we could get rid of the Vixen, and we did. Huzzah!

7. The Vixen Ding dong the bitch is dead. This elimination was written on the wall and was only delayed by a week because Monique bombed so hard last week. It didn’t matter what anyone else did this week or who was going up against her because NO ONE survives a 3rd lipsync in a row. Ru seemed like she was itching to get rid of her. Before, I thought there was an outside chance the Vixen could’ve made it to the end, but she couldn’t decide if she wanted to be an evil villain or a whiny victim, and she just came off as volatile and childish. Her rage wasn’t focused, and her drag needs a ton of polish. Obviously, the season’s gonna be a lot more relaxed from here on out. No one’s gonna have to walk on eggshells anymore. There will probably not be any fights going forward, but I’m fine with it. We got enough this season, I think. Thank you Vixen for bringing chaos back to the show and Untucked. We loved to hate you. RIP.

6. Asia O’Hara Asia has been going up and down throughout the season, so it’s hard to know where she stands. After performing pretty poorly 2 weeks in a row, I have no other choice but to put her low. I’m not sure if she’s going home NEXT, but she’s in a really rocky spot right now. Her Beyoncé was bad. Her Cher was bad, and the next challenge is just acting, but she might squeeze through. In the only challenge she won, she got by on silly faces and ugly makeup, not great acting, so I’m a little nervous. After looking back through their track records, I may have overrated Asia a little bit before. Even though she has one win and some great moments throughout the season, she’s the only one who has been consistently low the last couple weeks, which is a bad omen for next week. I’ma be bummed if she goes next, but it’ll pale in comparison to the shock of the Snatch Game episode. Only the Twist will top that.

5. Kameron Michaels I didn’t expect Kameron to ever get a challenge win, but I didn’t expect Aquaria to win Snatch Game either. Next week is acting, which isn’t Kameron’s strong suit, so I refuse to put Kameron any higher despite winning this week. I initially would have put Cracker below Kameron, but Cracks is a good actor and Kameron isn’t (maybe knowing what the next challenge is would be considered cheating for the purposes of writing power rankings but fuck you I do what I want). I actually think the win for this Cher challenge should’ve gone to Cracker and not Kameron. Even though KM has a surprisingly good voice, Cracker was funnier, had harder choreo, and a MUCH better runway look. Kameron’s look was kinda basic. On the other hand, Kameron is finally finally getting some interesting narrative. I actually do kinda like the bitch. She’s thoughtful, reserved, and seems genuinely kind and humble. It’s actually really interesting to see a queen this quiet go this far, and it’s refreshing to have someone there who isn’t such a loudmouth. I feel for Kameron, and I’ve come around on her for the most part since the season began, but I still don’t think she’s gonna go to the end.

4. Miz Cracker Cracker always gets so close, but never quite nabs the win. I don’t really agree at all with the judges’ negative critiques about her this week. Breanna slayed. There’s always next week! It’s weird how Cracker and Aquaria have had this role reversal since episode 1. I think when the season began, most people were gunning for Cracker over Aquaria, but now it seems like Aquawoman is a true fan favorite and Cracker is getting kinda written out. Shit’s nutty. I’m still crossing my fingers for my girl. I think she deserves top 4, but maybe not top 3. She hasn’t won a challenge and is rarely in the top, even in comedy challenges. I dunno. It’s unfortunate but I don’t see her winning after all.

3. Monet X Change Another strong week for Monet! Cool. There’s still a few episodes left and no stupid Twist yet, so I GUESS something crazy could happen, but if things go as they should, she’ll likely be in the top 3 next to Aquaria and Eureka. I think that’s a pretty nice looking top 3. It would have been more interesting to have seen Monique up there instead, but I’ll take what I can get. The top 3 should be diverse but strong all around, and I think Monet has that......well except for her looks. Monet X Change has to have the absolute worst looks out of everyone this season. Her outfit this week was REAL bad, but her Cher was real good, and she’ll probably be fine next week.

2. Aquaria Can someone actually explain to me what Aquaria did to her eyes? That shit was incredible. THAT’S commitment. In the looks department, I’d put Aquaria up into the highest echelons next to Raja and Violet Chachki, the most fashionable queens of all. I’ve never seen a queen with such an artistic eye before. It blows my mind. She may have been “low” this week, but she made it through this, one of the harder challenges, and I can’t envision any possible ending that doesn’t have her in the top 3. You know she’s gonna murder the finale looks, too.

Check out this video. Things like this look are why she’s a frontrunner: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WESAj_lQHPs

1. Eureka That dress made me scream. It was EPIC. This’ll probably be the closest she comes to the bottom for the rest of the season. It really doesn’t matter what Eureka does from here on out. Even when she stumbles, she still gets more and more backstory. Every thing not to like about Eureka comes with a good story behind it. I dunno if she’s polarizing or not; most people I’ve talked to have said she’s among their favorites, or they at least recognize she’s going to the end. It’s obvious. I don’t have much else to say about her. I’m just gushing over that  fucking gown.

Some other misc. notes: - Black queens are gonna get judged more harshly in a Cher challenge. - No one did that great (at least in the judges’ eyes) so Kameron won by default. - Assigned roles are bullshit. Asia shoulda gotten to pick who did what since she won the mini challenge.

If the Twist isn’t next episode, I’ma be EXTREMELY nervous beyond that. I know some stupid bullshit fuckery is on the horizon. I feel it in my bones. I think the only one -truly- safe no matter what happens is Eureka. What I fear most is a stupid lipsync tournament. Shea Coulee and Trinity Taylor were robbed. I want this to be a good, fair battle between the top THREE queens. Season 9 had a top 4 finale. That’s a THIRD of the contestants in the finale. Shit’s stupid. Narrow it down so I can really gun for one of em.

[aberratixns-blog]

Shell-Shocked

Summary: A GIW agent by the name of Tracy finds her way into Paradise’s Quarantine Division by way of abandoned port, where she meets Orianna, a resident who takes her further into the underground district, all while Francis V messes with Tracy’s car.

Triggers: Implied abuse- namely starvation and body issues; Repetition.

What an unlucky day to be one of the GIW agents assigned to look for traces of “Phantom”. He had escaped before, and finally they had found a way into the remote dimension that he fled to. He thought he was safe, but they would have him soon, they thought. 

One particular agent, a slender woman by the name of Tracy, was in charge of investigating Paradise, quickly jetting around the outer walls of their hub city, 12th Landing. She had always wondered just why it was called “12th”. Were there 11 others that failed? ... An unguarded port, she could see why other Landings failed, if they were as high-security as this. Driving her van into the port, she’s met by a concrete wall, with graffiti painted over the surface. 

She looks them over, most of them were sentences in the same neat, nearly robotic font. None of them made her particularly uneasy, but instead made her raise her guard. Whatever Paradise threw at her, she felt as though she could handle it. Any attempt by the GIW to find even a trace of Paradise had ended in failure before, so she had no idea what lurked in that hub. 

“Get out.”

“They lurk here.”

“Jester, Hacker, Cheerleader, Beast!”

“You’re alive!”

These along with other similar scrawlings were each overlaying one image behind it, large enough to take over the wall. Stepping back, she takes in the painting of a top-view of a turtle shell, with a lightning symbol going through it. Weird.

As Tracy turns, she’s greeted by who she could only assume to be the ‘cheerleader’. She was a younger girl, only 16 by the looks of it, with shorts and a sports bra. Around her wrists, she had pom-pom’s made of feathers. They were tied with a rubber band, and she was moving at all times, in a routine that was both hypnotising but unsettling in just how perfect each step was. As the cheerleader does a spin, Tracy was able to make out the writing on the back of the girl’s outfit: “9172 Noontide”, with the name in smaller letters under the code. “Orianna”.

Orianna sounded cheerful as she spoke, her tone betraying the dim lighting and poor appearance she held. Her clothes were tattered and her skin was covered in gauze and bandages. In particular, one of her legs was missing, below the knee with a simple attachment to help her stand. On the foot pad, there was the same shell symbol, but such a small detail slipped her notice.

“Hello, hello! Why are you in here?” Orianna’s voice echoed through the room, cutting off Tracy’s words as she steps forward, interrupting her routine. “Muhuhuu.. Are you trying to sneak in? Here! Ori-Ori can call for help for you!” 

“No. I don’t need you to call for help.” Tracy spoke calm as she put a hand on Orianna’s shoulder, getting her to still for just a moment before she began to bounce on her heels. She digs a picture of her target from her pocket, showing it to the cheerleader. “I’m looking for this person, Orianna, have you seen him?”

Taking the picture, Orianna holds it between her fingers. She didn’t hold it normally, but had her fingertips curled to her palm, the paper clamped between her joints. “Hmhmhm... Yeah! Ori-Ori knows who this is! But it can’t tell you, nope... This is Ori-Ori’s friend!” While that wasn’t true, Orianna did know who Danny was. She knew him through a friend... or rather, knew OF him.

Tracy frowns, gripping Orianna’s shoulder with force as she pulls her forward. “Listen, he’s dangerous, and he would hurt you and everyone here, okay? I need you to tell me where he is.” 

Thinking about this for a moment, thousands of thoughts haphazardly buzz through her head. The cheerleader nods a little as she steps back. “Yea, yeah.. Follow Ori-Ori, please. It’ll take you to him!”

With that, Orianna skips forward, disappearing behind the wall to open a sliding gate, with Tracy following after her. The GIW employee couldn’t help but be confused with the youth’s appearance and behaviour. She called herself “it”, her eyes, while vibrant, were sunken in with bags under her eyes, and it would be an understatement to call her skinny. As the two walk, Orianna was making noise, whistling, humming, and singing as she hopped forward with the same routine, leading Tracy deeper into the underground zone: The Quarantine.

Back at the GIW van, a figure slinks down from the ceiling, his body caught in the wires that draped through the panel cracks. He was a tan boy, about 17, with long brown hair that was greying. It looked as if he had tried to cut it on his own, and then eventually put it in an off-centre bun that was too far to the left. He wore a standard training shirt, though it was torn and tattered, and definitely too loose on his body. The only thing saving his shorts from the same fate of basically falling off of him was a belt... or rather just some cables tied in a knot. On his shirt read, in the same font as Orianna’s: “009Noontide” and “Francis Wheeler (Variant 5)”. 

Crawling from the tendrils, he sits on top of the car, cross-legged as he takes out a small laptop, no bigger than a small book. “So what kind of car does Orianna’s guest have...” He stands up to look it over. The sight of wheels didn’t help his opinion on it at all. Groaning, he flops, sending himself onto the ground with an unceremonious thud. He quickly hops to his hands and feet, quad-walking his way around the car to inspect it. To others, this would look odd, strange, but to him and others who lived in the Quarantine, it was normal. The disease made them do strange things, but they came out of it as strong as a god assuming they survived.

Finally circling to the hood of the car, he pops it open, hurling himself over to look deeper at the engine. With a loud sigh, he gets out, closing the hood and climbing back to the top of the car.

“It’s a dinosaur...” His voice echos with a groan as he slumps, his back arched with each ridge from his spine showing through the shirt. Who knew how much he ate, or if he even did. “Can’t do anything cool with this...” He opens the laptop, clicking a few keys and tilting the screen back. It projected an image of several items: A radio, a funnel, a siphon, a spray bottle, miscellaneous snack wrappers. He plucks the bottle, siphon, and funnel from the projection, both item’s materialising in his hands. “What to do, what to do....” 

Slinking off the top of the car again, he lands in a pile near the gas tank, standing up to his feet and slowly using the siphon to suck the gas from inside. He couldn’t do anything too neat with the van without blowing it up or setting himself on fire, which definitely wasn’t on his agenda. Dripping it into the spraybottle, he screws the top back on, putting it on the top of the van as he lies in wait for Orianna to bring Tracy back. “Ori-Ori-Orianna... Bring ‘em back tooooooo the van, Ori-Ori...” He leans back, arching over the windshield to peek into the car itself. “Ancient, cold van of old... Whatcha hiding in there?” 

His voice held a small giggle, though his speech was nothing unusual. Those infected always had some unusual expressive habit, and Francis and Orianna both were no exception. Rhyming, repetition, and their cheerful tones were contrast to whatever they were saying. Theirs was a common linguistics issue, that. 

His eyes widen as he sees what’s inside; Several cutting-edge anti-ghost weaponry and containment devices. Francis couldn’t help a frown, exaggerating a huff as he turns his head, tapping the cup of his headset on the glass. The headset had the same shell symbol on it. “Wow, so you finally got back, back, back again.. Hm.. Don’t like what you’re hiding, van. Uno-Uno wouldn’t want those here, nope.” He lifts his head, before slamming the cup into the windshield, shattering it with ease. He crawls onto the hood, before sliding into the car, spraybottle of gas and all.

[exothermic-filth]

First Shot’s Mine pt. II

Ya boi’s back with a continuation of this Junker!Reader x Junkrat fic :) Non-binary reader, SFW (violence and swearing warning!)

Thank you for the support, y’alls! Especially to @motherfucking-breadcrumbs for the kind words <3 Hope I did your expectations justice! 

Finale (Pt. III)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s been a few days since Dusty came into work. You didn’t blame the young man: he drank enough liquor to happily satiate three grizzled Junkers. The hangover must be killing him right now. Deep down, you knew he was avoiding you: tussling with the internal conflict of turning in Junkrat. 

You straighten up, hearing your back crack. You’d been cleaning for three days straight to remedy the mess of Founder’s Day. The place looked… alright? 

You tut and take mental stock of things that needed to be replaced: you needed probably 4-5 new chairs, 2 new tables, countless mugs and glasses… 

You shake your head and walk behind the counter, thinking about everything at once is too much. You mind races back to Dusty. He’s a good kid. Hard-working kid and big dreamer. Unlike most Junkers whose aspirations started and ended at the Scrap Yard’s betting booths, Dusty wanted to see the outside world. 

On the flip side, he had a quick temper and often gave in to short-term indulgence without much thought for the consequences. The shotgun gleams in front of you, hanging patiently on its hooks. Maybe if…The passing thought makes you sick to your stomach: Dusty’s the age Jamison was when you two met. 

You purse your lips and bite them absentmindedly. Junkrat purposefully didn’t tell you his plan. You reasonably and realistically knew nothing. Dozens of other Junkers saw him in your bar, another Junker tipping off the Queen wouldn’t do much. And yet, the thought gnawed at your inside, making your skin crawl.

You give a sharp, annoyed sigh (though you’re the only one in the bar) and grab your shotgun off the wall. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

After a quick trip to the market, you’re making your way through Junkertown’s lower east end. It’s a series of cobbled together apartments made up of the old inner workings of omnium. Crafty junkers from who knows when had split it up and boarded up walls into makeshift living spaces. 

You’ve carried Dusty home many times before. This, this was the first time you were visiting him. Your grip tightens on the sack you’re carrying, feeling the shotgun burn into your back. It was a hot day. 

You clear your throat and knock, “Hey, Dusty, it’s me, *your name.*”

You hear a bit of rustling and a thump, the sound of cans being scattered about and a bit of swearing. 

He opens the door, looking extremely worst for wear, “Oh, hey boss! I… I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“It’s fine, I probably should’ve given you a heads-up that I was coming,”

Dusty shuffles a bit in the doorway then sighs and pulls the door wide open, gesturing you to come in, “Well, no need for formalities. You’ve seen my place. Dragged my drunk ass back here plenty of times.”

You step into the apartment and close the door, “You alright?”

Dusty flashes a smile, “Never better.” 

“You’re.. you’re missing a tooth,” you grimace, setting the sack on the kitchen counter. And by kitchen counter, one means the shelf against the wall with a single hotplate on it. Unplugged. 

He laughs a bit, “Yeah, I lost it at the betting cages last night.” 

You purse your lips, “I brought you some food. Well, mostly hangover remedies.” 

Dusty turns on his heel and heads for the sack, patting your shoulder, “Aw, thanks! Make yourself at home!” 

While he rummages through the sack, you take a seat on the mattress in the corner, as it is the only “seat” in the entire room. Dusty has not a single chair to his name. The nightstand/dining table/desk (aka an upturned wooden crate purloined from the bar’s stock room) is crowded with empty liquor bottles and beer cans. 

“No, way! How’d you get this?” Dusty admires the glass bottle of orange soda in the sunlight. 

“I have friends,” you smile, “Also, said friends smashed half my bar, so the least they could do is sell me their goods at half price.”

Dusty whistles, “Still a pretty penny.”

“It’s going towards something good,” you shrug. 

He smiles for a bit, but stops. He sets the bottle back on the shelf and turns to you, “We.. we should talk.” 

You blink, “Uh, yeah, sure. What is it?”

“I.. I, uhm..” Dusty coughs, “I want to quit.” 

You feel the oppressive heat all at once, “Quit? Why?”

“I’ve been doing something thinking, *your name* and I want to leave. I want to leave Junkertown.”

You can feel the tightness in your chest relax, “That’s really admirable, Dusty. But do you have the funds? The resources?” 

“I’ve saved up quite a bit, made a nice fat stack last night at the betting booths,” he points at the missing tooth. “So, with your uh, permission… I’m quitting.”

You chuckle, “Dusty, you don’t need my permission to do anything.”

“I do for at least one thing in this world,” he looks at you with sad, sad eyes. 

Your breath catches in your throat, “I’m sorry, Dusty.”

“Nothing to be sorry, about, *your name,* it’s just.. I hope this is really what you want.” 

You bite your lip, “Yeah.”

He walks over and sits next to you on the mattress, “How’d you meet him?”

You feel the heat rise in your cheek, “You really wanna’ hear the story?”

He nudges you with his elbow, “I figure I should know who beat me to the punch.”

You roll your eyes but smile, “He had a five year head start on you.”

Dusty scoffs, “*Your name,* I was too drunk to make this point a few nights ago, but you’re literally three years older than me.”

“Fair enough.” 

“When… when did you meet him?”

You look up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks with your eyes, “I was eighteen and he was twenty. I was doing a delivery run for Mick, my first real, paying job, and my motorcycle broke down right in front of Junkertown gates.”

Dusty rolls his eyes, “Fuck, *your name*, didn’t think you were the type to swoon for a man if he fixed your bike.”

You rib him sharply, “I didn’t finish, idiot. Also he didn’t fix my bike, he tried to steal my cargo.” 

Dusty pulls a face. 

You continue, “Idiot damn near blew my arm off. But he didn’t carry his grenade launcher back then, hadn’t made it yet. Just strapped on as many bombs as he could to his body.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or just fucking with me,” your barback shakes his head. 

You give a small chuckle and continue, “The idiot ended up hurting himself. Didn’t predict shrapnel trajectory when he threw a mine at me. Ended up ripping up his arm reaalll bad.”

“This story is clearly romantic as shit.”

“I could’ve left him there for the dogs. But, I don’t know… Mick had just taken a huge risk and gave me a job. Trusted me out of the blue. Junker’s don’t do that. So, I… I helped Junkrat,” you laugh, a bit cynically, “It’s fucking funny that the first time I was inspired to be selfless was for that prick.” 

Dusty shakes his head, “So you’re telling me, I lost on out on you because Mick was a decent person?”

“It’s… more complicated than that. I mean, don’t you want to be more than just a Junker, Dusty?” You ask.

His head hangs a bit, “More than anything.”

“Junkers are merciless. We steal, cheat, and murder. We run businesses for the sake of normality and slight order, but deep down… it’s everyone for themselves,” you stare at the dust motes, floating lazily through the air, “If I had killed Junkrat that day, or left him for dead… I think I wouldn’t be the person I am now.”

“So, showing mercy changed you?”

“Showing compassion changed me,” you nod, “It’s just so happened that it was Junkrat.”

“So what after?”

“Carried him and the cargo into Junkertown. Delivered it. Found him a medic.”

“And what? He just fell head over heels for you.”

“Nah, he hated me for a while. Thought I was making fun of him,” you smile wistfully, trying to snatch a golden mote out of the air, “You know, like I let him live to prove a point. I think he tried to kill me that same week.” 

“Christ, you know how to pick ‘em don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckle, “After a few weeks of trying to kill me, he finally confronted me. Got real emotional and angry and defensive about it.”

“I… I can see that,” Dusty nods. 

“Going on and on about how I wounded his pride by letting him live and insulted him by having the nerve of getting him help. I was pretty annoyed by then too. He was making me late for every delivery I got assigned and Mick was getting annoyed too.”

“As one does.”

“So, I just told him, ‘I saved your life because I was trying to be a decent person.’“

“That must’ve set him off,” your barback snorts. 

“Oh, Dusty, you should’ve seen him,” you laugh. “He nearly fucking self-imploded. I told him if he didn’t believe me, then he should just leave me alone.”

“He didn’t, did he?”

“The man literally goes and finds my boss and goes off about how I’m the worst, most cruel person on earth. And how I should be fired immediately from my job for lack of professionalism.”

“…when are you going to tell me how you fell in love with him?”

“Patience, patience,” you pat his knee, “Anywho, Mick isn’t an idiot so he got him locked up for attempted theft of his goods. This was back when Mick was a good friend of the Queen and was in her good favor.”

“Oh, wow, huh, never would’ve thought that was possible,” Dusty looks slightly impressed and surprised.

“Yeah, I went and talked to Mick. Explained the whole ordeal, and Mick ends up laughing so hard he nearly threw him up his lunch. Let Junkrat go with a warning, an official one from the Queen. Would’ve fined him too but Mick convinced her that fining a penniless Junker wasn’t going to result in much.”

“An official warning… they roughed him up?” Dusty pulls a face. The Queen had a thing for making examples of people. 

“Roughed him up, pretty good,” you shake your head, “So much fucking’ blood.” 

“That how he lost his arm and leg?” Dusty asks softly. 

“Nah, those were… separate occasions. I dragged his sorry ass to the medic and this time around, he was incapacitated enough he couldn’t try and kill me.” 

“Ah, played nurse and he fell right into your arms,” Dusty swoons dramatically. 

You allow yourself a small laugh, “Not quite. While he was bedridden, I got to have an actual conversation with him. Managed to convince him that I really wasn’t making fun of him or insulting him. I was just… just trying to be something else. Something different.” 

“He fall for you then?”

“Every time we talk about it, he says that while I was talking, something ticked inside of him. Like he was seeing ‘life for what it could be’ for the first time,” you say, then laugh, “But I’m almost certain it was the drugs. He was high off his ass.” 

“No, no, I can see what he’s talking about,” Dusty pulls his knees to his chest. 

“And… I guess that’s that. He started hanging around the gate more and I’d stop after my delivery routes to talk to him.” 

“Huh,” Dusty muses. 

“I know, I know, it’s a bit of a lame story.”

“Still haven’t told me why you love him.”

You take a deep breath and get, pacing the small room, “He… he’s wild, reckless, but adventurous and brave. He’s courageous and resilient in the face of absolute defeat. He never gave a shit about the Queen’s rules and honestly, out here that means something.”

“I thought you and the Queen were chummy, like mates and all,” Dusty frowns.

You take another deep breath and lift your shirt up, revealing the jagged, snargling scar stretching across your stomach and up your side. 

Dusty leaps up and is immediately at your side. 

You look at him, “She made an example of me ages ago. She’s only kind to me now because I bend my knee like the little pet I am. Just another loyal follower.” 

Dusty tentatively reaches out to touch you, but he stops himself, “I’m sorry, *your name.* You should’ve told me.”

You smile, “It’s not your problem. I can handle myself.” 

“Is he really worth all this? If the Queen finds out, she’ll do worst than make an example of you,” his voice rises in panic.

You cup his face with your hands, “I’m fine, Dusty. I don’t know anything. You saw it yourself. I was just as surprised as all of Junkertown when he showed up.” 

He leans into your hands, nudging them gently with his cheek, “I… I don’t want you to get hurt. Especially since you’re with… with him.” 

You speak softly, quietly as though the walls could hear, “The Queen is not who she appears. She’s cruel. Manipulative. And a liar. No one here knows much about the outside world and she sings the same old song about revolution and war to keep us content with isolating ourselves. Don’t do that to yourself, Dusty. Leave here if you can.”

He gulps and embraces you, his voice cracks, “I will. I just wish you’d come with me.”

“My job isn’t finished here,” you smile, parting from him. 

“He’s… he’s fucking lucky to have you,” he says, starting at the corner of the room rather ruefully. 

“I think so too,” you try a small joke but he doesn’t laugh, “I’m gonna’ get going, Dusty.”

“Oh yeah, right,” he clears his throat. 

You begin to turn to leave. 

“Uh, *your name*, your gun,” he hands you the weapon, a distinct waver in his voice as he did. 

“Oh, yeah, thank you, Dusty,” you take the gun back. 

“Well, thanks for stopping by boss. And thanks for the snacks.. and..” his voice trails off as he suddenly grabs your hands, “Thank you. Truly, for everything. And thinking I can be better than all of this.” 

You can feel your eyes growing wetter. You clear your throat, “Of course Dusty. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“I’ll make you proud,” he nods his head firmly, “And maybe I can help you too, some day.” 

He smiles and closes the door. 

You walk a couple steps down the long apartment hall, before stopping and leaning against the wall. You choke back some tears and chastise yourself for even bringing the gun. Dusty is no fool. He knew why you brought the gun. 

You finally compose yourself enough to complete the walk out of the building. You thank the heavens and stars for not having to use it. And you wish with all your heart that he have safe passage across the Outback and away from this hell hole. 

~ ~ ~

The next morning felt strange. Quiet. Usually when you came into bar, Dusty would already be there. He’d hit you with a smart-ass comment and you’d banter back. The place felt different. Colder without him. 

You set to start the third round of cleaning when two armed Junkers walked through the door. 

“I’m sorry, friends, bar’s closed until-” You note the their armbands. “Ah, the Royal Guard, what can I do for you?”

The Junker closest to you gives you a brief nod as a greeting, “The Queen heard that Junkrat was in your bar a few nights ago.”

“That he was,” you nod. 

“She’s pulling in any Junker who saw him and asking questions, but so far-”

You give a friendly smile, “They’ve all been drunks. I get it. Give me a second, let me pack up shop.” 

“Thank you for cooperating,” the guard grins back. “Queen’s really got it out for this wily fuck.” 

You keep smiling, “Anything for an old friend.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The guards escort you to the Queen’s palace. It’s been years since you visited the Scrap Yard. The distinct smell of rust and cheap booze sting your nostrils. Past the mech battle grounds stands her throne. An impressive long weapon rests against it.

You’re admiring the large open throne room when your eyes land on the Royal Guard standing adjacent to the throne.

You knit your brows in confusion, “Dusty?” 

He meets your eyes and he looks so… sad. So guilty. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, but you already knew. You could feel it in the air. 

“Glad you, could join us *your name*,” a very familiar voice greets you.

You drop immediately to your knees, placing an arm across your chest in salute, “Your highness.” 

“*Your name*, darling please, no need for formalities, we’re all friends here,” she gently pulls you up. “Now, I heard a little rumor that Junkrat was back in town? In your bar?”

“Rumor’s right. He burst right in during peak business hours. A full fucking brawl broke out and ruined my bar,” you scowl. 

“Didn’t think to tell me?” She pouts a bit. 

You put up your hands disarmingly, “I apologize, my Queen. I honestly thought you’d hear about it your own guard. They were drinking there that night as well, and well… I have my business to worry about it. But you’re right, I should’ve also notified you as a citizen of Junkertown.”

“Ah, no worries, no harm done really, besides to your poor bar.” 

“Is this all, my Queen?”

“Not quite,” she sits back on her throne and toys with her gun, “Lovely, ain’t it?”

“Exceptionally,” you nod.

“Now, tell me *your name* how does Jamison plan on ‘getting back’ at me this time?”

You feel your heart skip a beat, “Excuse me?”

She smiles, “I know you’re his lover and thus his weakest link.” 

Your eyes flit towards Dusty. He doesn’t meet your eye and you clench every muscle in your body.

The Queen gets up, with her terrifying gun in hand, “No use running, love. I have you surrounded. But back to the point… Darling, I adore you. You’re not like the other Junkers in town. You’re smart, decisive, and above all else, compassionate.”

“Uhm, thank you?”

“You know why I love compassionate people? They’re predictable. They care. Once they care, they have a weakness that can be exploited.”

You gulp quietly.

“Jamison never had a weakness. The man was wild, reckless, a total nuisance since he came to this town,” she practically snarled while thinking about him, “But you, you made him weak. You gave him a weakness.” 

She’s standing inches away from you, smiling. Smiling that awful shit-eating grin of hers. 

She continues grinning, “How do you do it *your name*? All of these weaknesses, so easy to exploit. You even gave your poor barback a weakness.”

You turn to Dusty, feeling your heart drop, “Dusty. Why?”

He balls his fists up, “You can’t be stupid enough to think things will go well if you stay with him, *your name*.”

The Queen nods, pulling a sympathetic face, “Listen to the cute barback, *your name*, he only wants the best for you.” 

Dusty walks up to you and clasps your hands, “Please. The Queen is willing to fully pardon you of harboring a fugitive, if you just give him up.” 

You shake your head, the horror and disgust welling up inside you, “Give him up?”

He holds your hands tightly in his, you can see tears forming as he chokes them back, “You don’t have to love me *your name* but I can’t fucking stand by and watch you throw away your life because of him.”

You break free from his grip, the anger in your voice is biting, “What about quitting? About leaving Junkertown? About wanting MORE? Or was that just a fucking lie, Dusty?” 

He doesn’t say anything. A single tear rolls down his cheek. 

The Queen walks up next to Dusty and pats his shoulder, “Young Dusty here was offered a position last night. Usually, there’d be a test but he offered some tantalizing information about Junkrat. And Junkrat’s apparent weakness… He’s a smart young man. He knew if he left then there’s a good chance his one love would be hung right next to the criminal. So Dusty valiantly gave up the criminal to save you.” 

You take in a deep breath, the reality of the situation hitting you. There’s no escape. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged him as your type. You’re too sweet,” she steps towards you, “Too… good for him.”

You take a deep breath, “You know nothing.”

She grins, but you can feel like something has cracked beneath the surface, “Know nothing about him? I know he is a worthless, conniving, rotten piece of shit who doesn’t know the front end of a fucking missile if it was hitting him balls first.” 

“…I don’t know what beef you have with him-”

The Queen laughs, an unsettling cackle, “Darling, you have no idea.” 

“I don’t,” you say flatly, “I really don’t know anything.”

She growls, “Liar.” 

“I. Don’t. Know,” you huff. 

She looks like she could strangle you. But the look suddenly passes and she’s back to her smarmy, shit-eating grin, “Oh no, oh darling. Can’t you see what’s happening?”

You knit your eyebrows together. 

“He doesn’t trust you,” she tuts. “He cares more about his plan than you… that he rather not have a liability.”

“You’re wrong,” you interject firmly, a bit too indignantly for your liking. 

“My dear, this man has successfully left Junkertown and trekked across the entire fucking world on his mad crime spree. And now he’s back. He could’ve gone back for you, but no. He’s back for me,” her smile is maddening. 

You take in another deep breath, “It’s clearly important to him.”

“Is this really the man you love? His thirst for revenge outweighing the desire to be with you?” The Queen shakes her head. “For someone this smart, you sure are stupid when it comes to men.”

With steely calm and composure, you look at her, “I know what you did to him.”

Her smile fades and she eyes you coolly.

You keep talking, “And I respect what he has to do.” 

The Queen growls and moves towards you in a blur, “You think this is a game?!”

“No, I do not,” you snarl. 

She grabs you by the neck. She’s terrifyingly strong, “What. is. he. planning?”

“Fuck you,” you wheeze.

Her face contorts into the ugliest, angriest expression you’ve ever seen.  

You barely knit your eyebrows in confusion when it hits you.  

You feel searing pain in your left knee and suddenly you’re on the ground, the sound of a gunshot ringing in your ears. Your head slams into the dirty, sooty ground and your vision ripples, blurring. Everything moves so slow, the air feels so thick. And your leg. Your fucking leg is alight with fiery pain. You try to prop yourself up but there is no energy in your limbs. 

“YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD’NT HURT *your name*!!!” You hear Dusty scream… his voice sounds so far away. 

You feel your eyes grow so, so heavy. You blink just in time to see the Queen walk towards you. She stoops down and gives you the sweetest smile, caressing your cheek with the back her hand. She looks up at him, “I lied.” 

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/transportation-plans-stump-districts-news-sports-jobs/

Transportation plans stump districts | News, Sports, Jobs

Superintendent Keith Perrigan shows the new seating configuration on school buses for the upcoming school year in Bristol, Va. That district has determined a maximum of 22 students can be on the bus at one time, amid the coronavirus pandemic. Other school districts nationwide are scrambling to make similar plans to address students’ safety.

The Associated Press

HARRISBURG — School districts nationwide puzzling over how to safely educate children during a pandemic have a more immediate challenge — getting 26 million bus-riding students there in the first place.

Few challenges are proving to be more daunting than figuring out how to maintain social distance on school buses.

A wide array of strategies have emerged to reduce the health risks but nobody has found a silver bullet.

Should students with COVID-19 symptoms be isolated at the front of the school bus? Should bus seats be assigned? Should buses be loaded from the back? Should buses only carry a few students at a time?

“Transportation professionals are left with the issue of, OK, you’ve got little Billy at the bus stop. Mom’s not there and he’s got a temperature. That’s a dilemma,” said Steve Simmons, a bus safety expert who used to head pupil transportation for Columbus, Ohio, public schools. “We can’t answer those kinds of questions. I don’t think anybody can.”

Simmons, president of the National Association for Pupil Transportation, was part of team of industry and school officials who produced a 70-page report on ways to lower the risk of COVID-19 transmission.

Many schools have been surveying parents to determine how many students will take the bus and how many will be privately driven to school. Others are making decisions about bus capacity that involve a trade-off between safety and affordability.

The task force report warned that a 6-foot social distancing regulation “is not financially nor operationally feasible,” and that “current thinking” is that a 72-student capacity bus can accommodate 24 students, or more if family members sit together.

Some large districts will nonetheless “jam ’em in” the school bus, Simmons said, while other districts plan to stagger school start times or teach half the students in the morning and the rest in the afternoon, with two sets of bus runs.

School transportation plans are “just one of the many ways we’re seeing inequities playing out in this pandemic,” said Deborah Gordon Klehr, executive director of the Education Law Center in Philadelphia.

“Some districts are saying that they will cut back on the number of students offered transportation, or expect more parents to drive their students to school,” she said. “Students and families with fewer resources are going to be the ones hurt by this.”

Kim Blodgett quit her job as a fourth grade teacher this year in order to drive her 5-year-old son to the Oklahoma School for the Deaf, concerned the twice-daily, 45-minute bus ride from their home in Norman was too risky.

“So many parents feel like they have no control over any of this that’s happened,” Blodgett said. “They have to work, they have to send their kids to school. They have to put their kids on that bus. It’s a horrible situation all the way around.”

Simmons said most bus drivers are old enough to put them at heightened risk for severe illness if they catch the virus. They will have to decide whether to continue driving — a job that typically does not pay much — or to stay home and prioritize their own safety, which could worsen a yearslong national school bus driver shortage.

Schools will have to decide what cleaning standards they want to set and whether to add sneeze guards or similar barriers among students and between students and bus drivers.

In Pennsylvania, the Transportation Department shot down a proposal to install plastic barriers around bus drivers, telling a school bus contractor there is not evidence it would make students or drivers safer. In New York, hand sanitizer isn’t even allowed on buses “due to its combustible composition and potential liability to the carrier or district,” according to guidance from the state’s school reopening task force.

The task force report said a survey of bus contractors found they were unanimously opposed to taking students’ temperatures, as some districts have considered. The contractors said drivers and bus monitors do not want to have to interpret health data, among other objections.

Getting on and off the bus is considered a time of heightened risk. Pennsylvania districts are considering assigned bus seating, making students fill empty buses from the back and emptying them from the front.

A suburban Philadelphia school district’s reopening plan states that students with symptoms should be placed in the front seat of the bus and brought to the school nurse. Another mandates that no students with symptoms will be sent on a bus or brought to school. Districts are designating rooms where sick or potentially sick children can be isolated until their parents can retrieve them.

Pottstown, Pennsylvania, schools have proposed keeping windows on its few buses open, a plan that will be difficult to carry out in winter. New York’s statewide recommendation is for windows to remain cracked if the outside temperature is at least 45 degrees Fahrenheit.

Today’s breaking news and more in your inbox

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[dynoguard]

NaNoWriMo: Return of the DinoKnights (Day 20)

Day 1 & 2 text is here.

Day 3 is here.

Day 4 is here.

Day 5 is here.

Day 6 is here.

Day 7 is here.

Day 8 is here.

Day 9 is here.

Day 10 is here.

Day 11 is here.

Day 12 is here.

Day 13 is here.

Day 14 is here.

Day 15 is here.

Day 16 is here.

Day 17 is here.

Day 18 is here.

Day 19 is here.

“Good morning Sagan, I’m sorry for the wait, I am surrounded by hatchlings.”

Cora ducked under the entry to the observatory’s central foyer as she spoke.

“Its okay.” Sagan said. He was less strange after a rest. He was wearing a blue tunic of some woven material and blue canvas pants. His clothing fit him, a realization she couldn’t help but make given her own borrowed clothes. “You’re busy, its a lot to take in, and as far as I knew, it was a custom for your people to keep guests waiting.”

“Thank you. How can I help you today, Sagan?”

“Its what I’m here to do for you.” Sagan replied. “With the observatory mostly gone Gloria assigned me to make sure sure you have what you need. Food, materials, supplies, assistance with repairs, medical assistance, that kind of thing.”

“That’s really neighborly of you.” Cora said. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or Mrs. Anning any more than we have. We are the more technologically advanced group, and we did destroy your observatory.”

“Sheriff Horne.” Sagan said. “I’m not a diplomat or negotiator. I bet you aren’t either.”

“Not in the fates-of-nations sense.” Cora replied.

“Then lets stop pretending we are and just talk. Like people, or dinosovians, not to imply thay you’re not people-”

“Alright, regular talk it is.” Cora replied. “We have a self-sustaining reactor, we don’t need power, but our stocks of food and clean water will eventually run out. The superstructure of our tower is compromised, and we have no medics and almost no medical supplies. We can manufacture a lot of what we need, but raw materials are also a problem.” 

“That’s about what I’d have guessed.” 

“We can offer trade, we haven’t done an inventory yet but I’m sure we can scrounge up some valuable metals, see if we have some technology we can spare.”

“Mrs. Anning was very clear on this, Sheriff.” Sagan looked her in the eye as he spoke. “We’re not taking anything from you.”

“What?”

“Unless this is a cultural obligation, in which case we will take the smallest gift that won’t cause offense.” 

“I’m just surprised you don’t want anything in return.” Cora looked around the room they were standing in. “It looked like a very expensive observatory.”

“Gloria said she wanted you to share only with us what you want to, no obligation or coercion involved. My new official job title is chief ambassador of trans-temporal brotherhood.” he paused. “For the mid-west region, for some reason. The point is, she sees this as her chance at a place in history.”

Cora paused for thought. Her instincts told her Sagan was telling the truth. He was Anning’s subordinate, however, and Cora didn’t know what to think about the human woman. Her overtures seemed sincere, but she was hard to read. She would have been less suspicious if Sagan had brought a shopping list of gadgets to haul back with him. 

‘Then again.’ Cora thought. ‘Maybe that says more about me than it does about them.’

“So where do you suggest we start?”  

“Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.” Sagan said. “Lets start with food, water and shelter, and move on up from there.”

“Sounds good, taking inventory will give everyone something to do, once I know what we need I will let you know.” Cora paused. “Not sure how.”

“That reminds me, I have this for you.” He handed her a small black block of plastic and glass the size of her first thumb joint. “Its a communications device and miniature computer. We call it a telephone.”

“Telephone. Got it. What’s a computer?”

“A machine that does complex math, often in the form of programs to perform specific tasks”

“I don’t know why my translator thinks that’s something different from an interociter. How does it work?”

“Well, first tap the screen, right here, to turn it on.”

Sheriff Horne gently tapped it with the tip of her claw. Nothing happened.

“Try the flat of your finger, at the skin.” Sagan suggested. 

She attempted again. The screen lit up, a space of four rows of three symbols apiece appeared. 

“The default lock code is 1-2-3-4, you’ll want to change that later, but for now, hit those numbers.”

Sheriff Horne’s finger mashed the surface of the phone, selecting a seven, five, and eight in rapid succession. She tried again, this time getting two ones, a four and a three. 

“It’s a little small.”  Cora said. 

“An oversight on my part. I’ll bring a stylus the next time I come by.. or a tablet We’ll figure it out.” Sagan said. “For now, just push the round button, and when it beeps, just say ‘call Gloria’ or ‘call Sagan’. 

“Thank you for the tiny computer-telephone.” Cora said, slipping it into the a pocket on the left side of her chest. 

“You’re welcome. Oh...” Sagan’s voice was hesitant. “There is one more thing.”  

“Yes?”

“Did anyone leave the tower last night?” 

“Why do you ask?”

“Something attacked the police near the Natural History Museum.” Sagan said. “Something big enough to pick up and throw a car. And there have been rumors of monster sightings in the woods around the city.”

“No, we were all here.” Cora said. Sagan could hear a tinge of worry in her tone.  ”Do you think its the thing that attacked me in the vehicle bay?”

“Not sure, but ironically, it’s better if it is.” Sagan says. “Because if it isn’t then either there’s a dinosovian wandering around the city alone and confused, or-”

“-or there’s more than one monster.” Cora replied. 

--

“All gather and behold!” Kyle shouted excitedly. Lynn, Brach and Zara watched from near the doorway of the previously forbidden laboratory. Kyle had a bracer clasped onto his prosthetic arm. The bracer held a polished sphere of gray stone with a gash of glowing green crystals within it, staring out like a reptile’s slit pupil. “I have definitely cracked the mind-boggling secret of Project Zero.”

“I’ll bite.” Brach said. “What’s the mind-boggling secret of Project Zero?”

“Next gen Aegis armor powered by a time core.” Kyle said. “Self-recharging when not in use, a real-time chronal-synch to allow for near-perfect mind-machine interface, which makes the dinobond twice as effective.”

“Clawsome!” Linn chirped. “Tell ‘em the good part.”

“Alright, alright.” Kyle smiled, and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Best of all... the armor stores in null time, around you, and when it snaps out, you’re wearing it!”

“Losing one arm not enough for you?” Brach asked. “What if it’s off a bit, You’ll wind up in one of those time crystals or something!”

“No he won’t, see-” Zara asked. “-if the alignment is off by even a little, the returning mass, which is metal armor, would displace the less dense material, which is any part of him, into the next available space. Instant compression, tissue damage, shattered bones, sure, but you need two dense materials intersecting to make chronite.”

“That is why the field materializes the armor away from the body, and basic thether-plates snap it around you. Zero danger, and they were so close to getting one finished-”

“Wait a minute.” Brach said.

“-It was really just a simple code problem, and some adjustments to the sensors-”

“You could not have finished and tested anything this quickly.”

“Finished, sure, tested, no. That’s why we’re here.” 

“Hazardous Materials Aegis, Experimental.” Kyle said in a loud, confident voice. The device on his arm flickered to life, the glow from the crystal intensifying. “Armor-Up!”

The crystal spun in its chamber, the crystal filled opening becoming a glowing crescent of green light against a shimmering gray orb. A blast of wind rushed outward as a ribbed orange undersuit, opened in the back appeared in the air, followed by a mass of armor plates, a backpack with a pair of towering chemical tanks, and gauntlets affixed to hoses leading to that backpack, all flashed into existence in a burst of white light.

Just as Kyle described, the armor rushed toward him with the intent of encasing him. 

Unforunately, the suit was upside-down.

Before anyone could react, Kyle’s head was warpped in the tail-sleeve of the bodysuit, his own tail poking out the neck-hole, as a pair of metallic boots assembled themselves around his hand. He lost his footing as the gauntlets intended for his hands encased his feet, and tangled them in the empty chemical hoses. He fell to the ground in an immobilized heap, the translucent semiglass helmet with its air filters and neural control link was wrapped uselessly around the bony club at the end of his tail.

 “Zaur! Kyle, are you hurt?” Brach ran up, kneeling to examine him.

“No.” Kyle’s muffled voice said through the tail sleeve. “I don’t think so. Everything is self-adjusting, but I can’t- I can’t move.” 

“Can you just shunt it back into null time?” Zara asked. 

“If I could, do you think I’d still be lying here like a cerowrap?”  Kyle mumbled. “At least pull the tail-sleeve down!”

Linn did just that, the smart-material reshaping to help her d”o so. Kyle’s head popped, unharmed but embarrassed, into view. 

“Oh sweet Zaur what is going on here?” Cora’s voice rang from the doorway. Sagan was standing there with him and both of them were staring at the trussed up Kyle. .

“Oh, hello Sagan, Sheriff Horne.” Kyle said. “Good news, I’ve almost cracked the mind-boggling secret of Project Zero.”

[chokefriends]

Pit-town Strays, ch.2

Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything’s fucked but whatever.

Rated T, no big warnings. Ch 2: The boys hang out some more, they are stupid baby dorks and nothing happens, thanks for coming by.

Ch. 1 - [Ch. 2] - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle

Bellamy arrived back from partying just as Law was on his way out the next morning.

“So can I have the fucking car then?” Law asked, not holding out much hope.

His bull-necked brother eyed him with wary hostility. “You’re a fucking gay,” he accused Law.

“I can also drive.”

“Shut up. I bet you're not actually, though. You're just tryna make people think you're special.”

Law snorted. “Bellamy, obviously I'm ‘a’ fucking gay.”

“No,” he denied it doggedly. “I'm your brother, I'd know already.”

“Dellinger, help us out here, buddy,” Law summoned their youngest brother, who was just then coming down the stairs with a pop-tart sandwich and his guppy jar. He was wearing a wetsuit, for some arcane reason.

“He's too young to hear about that stuff,” Bellamy warned off Law under his breath.

Law ignored this and addressed Dellinger. “Deli-man: Am I, in your estimation, fucking gay.”

“Uhhh, obviously you're fucking gay?” Dellinger rolled his eyes with all the snotty certainty of a thirteen-year-old boy.

“See?” Law raised his eyebrows at Bellamy.

“Pff. Every punk seventh-grader says that about literally everything,” Bellamy pointed out, fairly. “Last week he said gym shoes were gay.”

“Gym shoes are very gay,” Law confirmed.

“Not gay as Law’s gay self, though.” Dellinger met Law's fist bump with the guppy jar and went to claim the cozy recliner spot for his Shark Week marathon. Of their parents’ two biological sons, Law was definitely closer with this little blond weirdo.

Bellamy grouched, “Dellinger, turn that off, don't you got school?”

“Uhhh, it's summer?” the squeaky brat reminded him. “Law's only in school cuz he's a gay, gay nerd.”

Law covered his smile and went away up the stairs.

Bellamy's scowl deepened. He followed Law, accusing him, “You been keeping stuff from me. I’m your brother.”

“Why the fuck would I tell you shit. Thought you’d have figured it out already, anyway… I only been dating guys since I was like, fourteen.” Law rolled his eyes even more heavily than Dellinger had.

Bellamy stood there and glared for a full minute as Law tried to relace his sneakers with the remaining strand of snapped shoelace.

“...does Dad know?”

Law hesitated at the question, and looked over his shoulder reflexively, though he knew their father was gone on a business trip. He shrugged in response, confidence blown.

His ornery brother hissed suddenly, “This is fucked up. I'm not getting involved in any of this sick shit. Got that? Don't bring home any more Pit-town meth head tricks, I'll fucking kill em!”

“Where the fuck are you going? Gimme the keys,” Law complained.

“No, I gotta use the car today!” Bellamy stormed off.

---

Fucking pointless drama. Law shook it off and messaged Kidd with an ETA, then went to the highway to hitch a ride again. He'd forgotten all about the morning’s tense exchange by the time he'd made his way over and climbed the same bare rock outcropping as the day before. Kidd, the bike, and the Pit were all waiting below.

“The whole place is on high Goose Alert,” Kidd grinned. “Kevin is unavailable for comment.”

Law laughed and swung his leg over the back of the black-painted motorcycle. They roared through the village to Kidd's place in the far corner of the grid, past pursuing dogs and staring neighbors but no geese. Much better way to see the place, Law thought, dismounting in the driveway. Getting a little feel of Kidd's tight physique had been a bonus.

He followed Kidd up the step, where the little pink bike was once again lying in the way.

“Oh hey, you went and throat-punched the bike-thieves’ dad already?” Law joked.

“Oh, yeah, heh, stopped by his place last night. Guy tried to fucking sell it back to me, you believe that? Barely past check day and he's tryna scam people… Fucking drunk. Had to knock him out and give his kids a chicken bucket to show me where it was.” Kidd stepped over the bike and tried the door. Locked. He jiggled it and tried again.

Law frowned. “Okay? That's… good. Good job.”

“Yeah, chicken works. Nami! Open the fucking door! NAMI.”

A pouting little face was pressed against the window over to their left, watching them and not budging.

“Shoulda got chicken,” Law suggested.

Kidd growled in irritation. “God, it's always gotta be something. Every fucking time she figures out I'm going somewhere for the day… Nami, I gotta get to work! And look: Law's here!”

Nami's pout deepened.

“I can just get the door,” Law offered, reaching into his pocket for a card to jimmy it.

“Nah it's fine, I got it…” Kidd drove his boot into the door in an angry burst and it swung open. He stomped inside.

“Uh,” Law looked at the splintered bolt slot. No wonder there was no stop left.

“I'll fix it later. Nami: c’mere.” Kidd shouldered the duffel bag that was waiting on the hall floor, and then squatted down to call his sister over to him. “C'mon, gimme a kiss, I'll be back really soon.”

She kept her face stuck to the window, blowing clouds onto the glass and drawing shapes in them.

He sighed and went over to plant a kiss on the top of her head anyway, and she made an angry sound but kept ignoring him. “Don’t be like that. I'll be home before you go to sleep this time, okay? Babygirl?”

Her face stayed stuck to the glass.

“Nami.”

“Best not to draw it out, right?” Law suggested.

“... … …Yeah.” Kidd waited a moment longer, but Nami was set on being mad. He stood with a scoff.

“We’re good,” Law assured him, “And I'll text if there's something.”

“Kay, yeah. Bye.”

Kidd left abruptly.

Law frowned after him. Outside, the bike roared to life and then faded into a distant hum. Law went to close the open front door, bringing the bike inside as an afterthought. Nami was wiping away all her window-fog designs when he came back. She looked at him warily.

Law held out his hands. “Hey, witchygirl! I said I'd come back, right?”

She didn't reply. She walked around the far side of the room and then past him. In the kitchen, she took a box of Sugarbombs from the cupboard and then sat at the table, waiting.

“...Want cereal?” Law asked.

“Yah,” she huffed.

Law got her a bowl and blue plastic spoon and got her all set up. He sat down with a sigh as she dug in.

“Nami, can you say ‘thank you?’”

“Ya.” She kept chewing.

Law stifled a laugh at this. Law's father would have given her a real quick correction if she'd tried that in his presence. And Law probably shouldn't encourage her sass, but hey. He looked around and his eyes fell on his Stats assignment, forgotten there the previous night.

It was finished.

“Holy, what??” Law looked it all the way through, and then again. He studied the formulas, rubbing his temple. “How… do you even…? Ughhh.”

He looked up when Nami heaved a heavy little sigh of her own. She was watching him, imitating his concerned slouch and terse sounds.

“Hi,” she finally acknowledged him.

“Hi, Nami. We cool?”

“Ya,” she decided. “You can haves some cereal too.”

“No, thanks, not my favorite,” Law went back to decoding the paper.

“It is, it is not what witches can eat?” she wondered.

“Witches can eat what they want,” he told her distractedly.

A few moments later Law looked up to find her gone, and he had to run before she tried eating something bad. He found her in the bathroom, selecting cleaning supplies from the cupboard. He diverted her to coloring at the table, and spent the next hour organizing the bathroom and sorting the cleaning stuff into a high place.

The day went on much the same as before, Law alternating between coursework, cleaning and Nami management, while Nami went about her witchness. By the time it got dark, though, she was whining at the window and trying to break small things of Kidd's. Law took a guitar tuner away from her and she had a full-on meltdown. Law was starting to watch out the window too, wondering if he should text Kidd for an ETA… The guy had said he'd be back before dark this time, right? Law finally convinced Nami to lie down and watch Toy Story, but she would only stay put if he sat where she could see both him and the TV.

It was past 11pm again by the time Kidd came through the door. Nami got up and went to peek around the corner at him, but ran back to bed when he tried to get her to hug him.

“Girl, what the fuck,” Kidd grumbled.

“She's been waiting a while, I guess,” Law suggested.

“Yeah well. If I get offered a few extra hours at rate, I'm gonna take em.” The big redhead kicked off his boots and headed for the kitchen.

Law looked over at the little blanket lump, but it wasn't budging, so he followed Kidd.

“Didn’t get to the sushi place this time,” Kidd apologized.

“It’s cool, takeout every night gets expensive. I made this soup thing, there was leftover chicken in the fridge.” Law pointed to the pot on the stove and Kidd went to look.

“Oh sweet, like from scratch?”

“Yup.”

“Whoa, lookit that. Fancy brown stuff…” He made himself a bowl and sat back at the table.

“That’s what they call me,” Law joked to himself.

“Huh?” Kidd paused, spoon in hand.

“Oh I was just… talking to myself, uh… n-nevermind. Didn’t expect you to be listening.”

“Well I’m right here. Anyway, hey, I got these,” Kidd fished in his bag and threw Law a can. Hard lemonade.

“Hah, thanks…?” Law was cautiously grateful. He cracked it and took a sip—hmm, not bad. Not bready, anyway.

There was the quiet sound of bare feet from down the hall.

“There she is,” Kidd lifted his arm to find a sleepy Nami hugging his waist. “Yeah, hi. Good girl. Go the fuck to bed.”

He gave her a kiss and a coin, and she padded off again.

Law took a long drink from his can. “Soooo uh, I was gonna ask. You did that Stats sheet I left?”

“Um. Guess so…”

He was treated to one of Kidd's full face-and-neck blushes again. The unfortunate paleface ducked his head and concentrated on his bowl.

Law stretched and pretended to be fascinated by the ceiling light. “I was just gonna ask ya—”

“I was just bored or whatever,” Kidd told his soup.

“Yeah, but I don't know anybody else who just does math when they're bored,” Law wryly addressed the ceiling.

“Not trying to show you up or whatever. It's probably wrong. You can just erase it.”

Law snuck a glance over to see that the blush had safely passed. “Yeah but actually maybe you could show me what, um. When you… Like, which. How.”

“...Oh, yeah? Really? What part.”

“Most parts…” Law admitted.

Kidd laughed again, startlingly loud. Law jumped a little but laughed too.

“If you want,” Kidd grinned, pleased.

Law scraped his chair up next to Kidd's. They studied the offensive bit of paper for an hour, grabbing the pencil back and forth and talking overtop of each other. It didn't take long for Law to grasp the concept, but he let Kidd take him through a few more examples. They were getting louder and messier as the cans disappeared, and pretty soon the lesson was forgotten.

“But what if I take the p-value, and divide it by its own ass.” Law held two pencils like chopsticks and drew a little asterix, earning an ear-splitting guffaw from Kidd.

“Sshhh, sleeping baby!” he shushed Law in a whisper-shout, still laughing.

“You're the one screeching!”

“Not even!”

An irate Nami appeared in the doorway. “SHUT THA FUCK.”

They both looked over at her in alarm, then burst out laughing even harder. Nami's scowl deepened, and she came over to swat her brother as he held up his hands in defense.

“Holy shit Nami, okay okay, hahaaa…”

“Kidd! You come put me a bed!” Nami ordered.

“I will after, I have to take Law home first.” Kidd sat her on his lap and looked over at the oven clock. One in the morning.

“Oh shit…” Law checked his phone. No messages from his father, but one from Bellamy.

Dad's home, was all it said.

He ask where I am? Law texted back, and waited anxiously.

“Unless, uhh, you wanna crash?” Kidd mumbled to Law with a cough.

Law scrolled through his messages another couple times. “I don't really wanna get in a crash, no… I guess you've had a few drinks, eh.”

“Nono, I mean like, crash here.”

“Oh!” Law looked up from his texting. “Like sleep here. With you.”

“On the couch,” Kidd clarified, cheeks flaring up again.

“Well…” Law considered his phone.

“Or I can take you home on the bike. It's fine, I ride it around all blasted all the time, haha. But I only had a few this time.”

That was not super reassuring, Law reflected. He fiddled with the little bear dangle on his phone case. A strident bzz-bzz, and Bellamy's reply popped up:

No he just went to bed…

Law breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he could play it off like he'd come home late and gone back out again early, if his father asked.

“Yeah I'll stay,” he decided.

“Awesome!” Kidd gathered up Nami and made his way down the hall. He got a sheet out of the dryer and an extra blanket from a stack, then headed to the living room to make up the couch. Nami hung around his shoulders, over-tired and whining.

“I’m sharing with you tonight, Tinygirl,” he told her.

“You're not taking the big bed?” Law wondered.

“That's Dad's room.”

This seemed like all Kidd was gonna say on that topic, so Law let it go for now. Weird but whatever.

Kidd shucked off his outer layers and got into the little single bed on the floor, shoving aside all the furry little pillows. His feet hung off the end. Nami settled in under his arm with much squirming and fussing. Law laid himself out on the couch, still fully clothed in the stuffy room.

“You want some shorts to sleep in?” Kidd offered.

“Nah I'm good.”

“H’okay…” Kidd was probably thinking, weird but whatever.

“You working tomorrow?” Law asked.

“Yeah. But after that, it depends on when they need me.”

“Okay, I'll be around tomorrow, but Thursdays and Fridays I have class, so I can't come by til later.”

“We'll figure it out,” Kidd waved it off. “Worst case, I find another unlicensed daycare some yoga-pants MILF is running in her shed. Pit-town is good for those.”

Law snort-laughed into his pillow. “MILF-town! So where's the DILFs?”

“Well they sure as fuck ain't here,” Kidd muttered.

“What, no D's you'd like to F?” Law teased. A furry blue pillow flew at him.

“God no. No one wants to F these D's. The M's just do it for the B's, which stands for Baby Bonus.”

“Oooo… harsh.”

“True though,” Kidd chuckled darkly. “Not that I blame em. Baby bonus is about all the income to be had around here if you're non-union.”

“Huh…” Law was about to ask what Kidd had found, job-wise, but Nami interrupted to let them know she was asleep.

“I ASLEEP.”

“Okay,” Kidd whispered. “I guess me too.”

“Hey Kidd,” Law whispered. “You’re basically like Nami's dad, right?”

“...yeah. More than our actual dad is, anyway.”

“So,” Law struggled to keep his voice even. “You're one.”

“One what?”

“The one and only, the lone DILF of Pit-town.” Law stuffed his face into the pillow to muffle his giggling fit. There was no response and he looked over with a wicked grin to see that Kidd had pulled the blanket over his face. Probably blushing.

“You hiding?”

“Shut up… I'm asleep.”

Law chuckled quietly to himself and watched the odd pair on the floor. They were both out in a matter of minutes once they'd settled down. Kidd looked even bigger when he was trying to fit into a small space, with tiny Nami tucked between his side and arm. His protruding brow stayed creased, even while asleep, but the sarcasm had lifted from his lips. He looked worried.

Law settled down too, and scrolled aimlessly through his phone until it slipped out of his hand and he fell asleep without realizing.