#in other news the audio engineer in me getting so hung up on making the tiny details on the sound board believable

[atalana]

DIRK: Absolutely god damn incredible.

He’s leaning forward, laughing, dimples carved into his freckled cheeks. There’s a small twist in your heart about it, and you can’t place why.

it's been four years and i still get so emotional about pesterquest

(non edited version + closeups under the cut)

[dawl-and-dapple]

rating: general word count: 1443

Essek and Jester being sweet, based on the non-sexual intimacy prompt 'escorting the other to a doctor/ therapist appointment' given by @mllekurtz

***

Can you drive me to the dentist next week pretty please?

It’s been almost a year since Essek had first been asked to give one of his friends a lift. The requests had slowed somewhat since Caleb finally got himself his own car two months ago, but he is not yet necessarily free from this particular duty. Now he receives a text asking to be driven out of town most often when Caleb is occupied with work, sick, or inebriated.

These texts used to make him wince. After some time they made him smile. These days, they tend to catch him a little off-guard.

Is Caleb not available? he responds.

No, Jester texts back, he’s got an appointment too. Are you gonna be busy?

No, I will be available. I’ll drive you.

Thank you!! I’ll meet you outside the school like usual!! Love you so much!!!!

Essek puts away his phone. He remembers where Jester’s dentist is from the last time she had him drive there. There’s a nice café two blocks away where he could wait out her appointment, reading and enjoying a cup of tea, before driving her home again. He puts his mind to picking out which book to bring.

Five days later, when Essek arrives in the small car park across from the art college, he’s twenty minutes early. He occupies himself by methodically checking his emails, texts, then social media.

Caleb has sent him a photo of Frumpkin playing with his television’s cables. Essek asks if he’s forgotten about his therapy appointment. Caleb responds with a photo taken through a windscreen of a city road, blocked with traffic as far as the eye can see, and a text reading, I wish I had.

Someone knocks on Essek’s window.

“Hey!” Jester’s nose presses up against the glass. “You got here early,” she says, muffled. “You should have let me know.”

“I am not going to encourage you to leave class early, Jester.” He opens the passenger door.

“Boo.” Jester flops into the seat and begins buckling herself in as Essek starts the engine. “We could have hung out a little! We’ve all been so busy since the summer and I miss you, you know. I wanna know how you’ve been! Do you wanna talk about work? Probably not. How about, um, how’s the new flat? I heard Caduceus helped you settle in.”

“I have been well,” Essek says as he pulls out of the car park. “You remember that miniature flower bed you helped me build on my windowsill? I have been growing a little basil plant there.”

“Oh! Have you used the leaves to make anything?”

Essek winces. Of the scant few recipes he could reliably prepare, most are from his home. He’d failed to find a Xhorhasian supermarket in the area after moving and had taken it as a strong sign to try working with what he’d been given. But his lack of experience cooking anything at all made adapting that much harder.

“The cooking part...I am working on that. I will be asking for Caduceus’ guidance again.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” Jester says airily while digging through the small collection of audiobooks and music discs in the door compartment. “How long have you had these? Caleb’s car doesn't even have a CD player. Oh, I bet Caleb could help!” She grins at his reflection in the internal mirror. “He can make some very tasty Zemnian meals, you know.”

“I do know. I believe I’ve eaten one or two prepared by him at a dinner party with the others.”

“You should ask him to teach you the recipes.”

“I might. What did you get up to today? Painting? Sculpting?”

Jester smirks. She answers him, goes on to talk about her current project (a ten-foot-tall collage of hundreds of vintage pinup photographs, though Essek cannot parse the meaning of it). Essek gets the distinct impression that she’s barely holding herself back from needling him more.

As they reach the edge of the city, the traffic slows. A heavy sense of doom overcomes Essek, while Jester flips through the radio channels.

Someone behind Essek honks. He grits his teeth.

“Oh, the traffic here is pretty bad, huh.”

Essek flexes his hands around the steering wheel. “Yes, it seems so.”

Jester turns the radio off. “Do you have to be anywhere after this?”

“No,” he replies. The car comes to a dead halt. “I do not.”

Jester bounces in her seat as if she might be able to peer over the roofs of the dozens of gridlocked cars ahead of them. “Oh man,” she says. “I’d get there faster if I walked.” She goes quiet. After a heartbeat she smiles and turns towards Essek. “Hey Essek? Do you have any sexy audiobooks?”

“What?”

“Like, do you have a CD in here of someone reading a porn book out loud.”

“No, why would I have–?”

“That’s okay, I can plug my phone into the dashboard.”

“Please, Jester.”

“Okay!” She laughs, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket. “What CDs do you have? All the titles are in Undercommon...”

“Most are audio documentaries. There are two about special relativity, one about magnetism, and one on the life of a particular astrophysicist. There’s also a rock album in there somewhere; my brother gave it to me as a joke.”

Jester snorts.

“I am very boring, aren't I?”

“No!” Jester suddenly grabs his shoulder and shoves him around in his seat, which would have worried him were they moving at any velocity at all. “You’re not! Essek, you’re very fun and interesting.”

Essek smiles as he’s shaken from side to side, keeping his eyes on the traffic jam ahead. “I am very fun and interesting,” he repeats.

She finally stops shoving at his shoulder. “I should get you some new fun CDs for your car. I don’t even know where to buy CDs these days, but I'll get you some.”

“Can you promise there will be no more than one pornographic item in this collection?” he asks, raising his brow at Jester in the mirror.

“Oh, sure.”

“Then, as they say, go wild.”

“Neat. Hey! I know we’ve all been super busy lately but I bet we can do, like, a dinner party or something. Just one evening. Yasha got back into town this week and Veth says Luc has been spending most weekends at his friends’ houses so she can come over. Maybe a Saturday night?” She’s pulled out her phone already. “We can just hang out in my and Fjord’s flat for a while. Or yours!”

“I do not think I have enough space for nine.”

“But would you be free?”

He thinks. “Next weekend, yes.”

Jester pumps her fist in the air. “Awesome! I’ll text the others.”

The traffic moves ever so slightly. Essek watches the cars ahead of him like a cat watching a bird.

“Beau might be the busiest but I bet she’ll want to come. Oh, Caleb can cook something with Caduceus! One of those meals you liked.”

“Uh, maybe.”

“Maybe you can show him a recipe you know too. Try that sometime.”

“Hm.” The car in front finally budges. Essek inches forward.

“I bet he’d love that, Essek.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know you don't think you’re a good cook, but I remember that rice meal you made when I came over last spring and it was good!”

Now they’re driving again, if at no more than five mph. Essek grips the wheel.

“Make that meal, put on a good movie, wear something cute — that black top with the long sleeves I think — and it’ll be smooth sailing. Trust me, Fjord was no match for the tried and true Lavorre Technique.”

“Hm.”

“And then maybe you can finally talk to him about your big fat crush on Cay-leb.”

The car directly ahead halts. Essek swears and steps on the brake. He stares at Jester. “Pardon?”

She just grins at him.

“I was not listening. Sorry.”

“Oh that’s okay,” she croons, “But guess what…”

Essek is familiar with this tone. It doesn't scare him as much as it used to; he’s developed somewhat of a pavlovian response to her mischief in spite of his initial displeasure. As her grin widens, Essek feels a mirrored anticipatory smile spread across his face.

“You’re stuck in here with me,” she sings, waving her index fingers side-to-side with each word, “and we’re stuck in here together, and I wanna know the truth. So…” She leans forward. “Don’t you like him?”

Essek, face hot, but still smiling, reaches for the radio fast enough to fumble the air conditioning.

[pastelpaperplanes]

Calling in a Favor part 4

Ultra Magnus was not having the best of cycles.

The cycle had started with him waking up with a crick in the neck, and it had been joined by a headache caused by the presence of one Sentinel Prime.

He reminded himself that everyone grieves differently, but the ego of his second was honestly starting to grate on his patience. 

Half way through reading a report, he caught the sound of a commotion not far from his ground floor private office, taking a long suffering sigh, he got up, poured himself a cube of high grade, and stepped out to deal with whatever Sentinel was likely upset about this time.

Had some poor bot put the filter in upside down in the general energon dispenser again?

Was there a tiny crude drawing scratched into a surface he spotted?

Maybe his attempt to flirt with First Aid had backfired in his faceplates again and she was giving him the what for…

Or perhaps his second in command was having his faceplates smashed in by the business end of a wrench that a familiar pseudo retired medic was wielding. 

Ultra Magnus let the shock show on his features for a few moments before he schooled them and spoke up, using his ‘I’m in charge’ voice that he knew carried well enough to get everyone (hopefully Ratchet included) to stop what they were doing and shut up.

“What, in the infernal pits of Kaon, is going on here?!”

Everyone froze.

Except Ratchet who got one more good swing in past Sentinel’s feeble attempts to prevent it.

He looked between Sentinel and Ratchet, expression furrowed into a frown. “Ratchet, this is not like you, what has happened?”

Sentinel, who was pinned under the older, smaller, supposedly not as aged as he looked mech, growled. “What does it look like Sir?! This maniac attacked me!”

Ratchet got up, but kept a pede firmly planted on Sentinel’s chassis, likely leaving a dirty footprint on his shirt. “Oh, you don’t know, I’ll tell you, and every bot here what happened.” He paused, the dramatic effect was certainly felt. “This morning, I heard a ruckus above my clinic, I go to investigate, only to find one of the tenants, Bumblebee, in hysterics and screaming at his apartment mate Bulkhead, it took me getting two cubes down him and four trips to the can to purge before he spat out what happened.” 

Another pause for an effect, but this time it felt more like the medic was taking a moment to compose himself before trying to continue, the look in his optics suddenly becoming haunted. 

“Optimus is dead. The mob got him. Bee was a bartender at one of the clubs apparently, one of the goons told him why one of his best friends hadn’t shown up. They took him to the Docks last night and he never came back.”

The words hung in the air for a time no one present really thought to keep track of.

What broke the silence was the cube of high grade Ultra Magnus had been holding, the cube smashing on the ground just ahead of him, spilling its contents across the floor. 

The sound of the cube shattering snapped Magnus back to the present. “My upstairs office. Now. Sentinel, you too.”

Sentinel grumbled as he got himself upright and trunched after the two senior mechs, barely squeezing into the lift between Ratchet and Magnus before the doors closed, having chosen to turn around at face the doors along with the two so as to avoid optic contact with the medic who’d just been trying to rearrange his face with the wrench he was still holding, he could feel energon dribbling down his faceplates. 

Once they were all behind the soundproofed and locked door of Ultra Magnus’ entire upper floor spanning office, did he turn and address Ratchet. “Ratchet… I understand your distress, I was of the impression you had taken Optimus under your wing so to speak… But…  You are aware you just assaulted my second in command with a wrench, correct? I really should be arresting you for that, but I have a sneaking suspicion you had a rather good reason for targeting Sentinel, correct?”

Ratchet’s gaze locked on Sentinel and turned murderous. “Looks like you never told your boss, how about you tell Magnus now what you’d been holding over Optimus’ helm?”

Sentinel, with his now rather smashed in faceplates, still managed to look like a mechabuck caught in high beams. 

Magnus turned to look at Sentinel as well, an incy disposition falling over the head of the Elite Guard. 

“Sentinel Prime… What in the name of Primus… did you do.”

It was at that moment that Sentinel knew… he was slagged… and Optimus wasn’t alive anymore to take the fall for it… not again.

The Polaris

Optimus waved Shrike and her younglings goodbye, they’d been paged by Shrike’s lieutenant about a fight breaking out in the main engine room, not a joor after they’d finished touring that area. 

Apparently her way of dealing with such issues was to, and to quote Rumble, a youngling, directly ‘Bea’ tha bolts ou’ ah those slag suckers!’ 

He distinctly remembered that some of those slag suckers were the twins sparkling sitters when Dust managed to catch Shrike and attempt to put the femme back together. 

Optimus shook his helm at the whole thing, making a personal note not to take a trip to the engine rooms unannounced, as lovely as all those giant oil and grime caked mechs and femmes had been, they were all rather quick to brawl, and some of their fists he swore were bigger than his whole helm.

He turned to regard the door Shrike had left him standing outside, and after a moment, knocked, Shrike had said something about him finding his direct supervisor inside. 

The door swung open after a swift ‘Coming!’ and he was brought faceplates to faceplates with a pure white armoured femme who came up to about his chassis, who had a metric ton of vibrant organic plumage sticking out from one side of her helm, specifically around her audio. 

The femme looked up, took in the sight of him, and tutted. “Orion right?” He nodded. “Goodness Shrike took you to the engine rooms! You’re filthy!”

He jerked his helm down to look over his casual attire. “Oh! Oh no this was just the first stuff I grabbed out of my r-”

The femme didn’t let him finish, promptly dragging him by the collar into the room. “Everyone! Calipso! Get me a dressing gown! Eion put down the optic liner and help me get this mech to the showers!”

Mechs and Femmes alike, all of them arguably some of the most beautiful and gorgeous bots he’d ever seen all spun in their make up chairs to look him up and down, some of which still applying make up to their features as they did so. 

Two jumped up, a mech who was mostly soft greens with a red highlight colour that framed his lithe figure, and a femme of soft lilac and blue who looked half dressed if the fact she was only wearing a form fitting dress and nothing else was anythign to go by, she wasn’t even wearing shoes. 

All of this he was able to take in in the few short moments he had until the mech, he assumed to be Eion, pulled him into what he guessed was the mech shower room, and began setting up a stall for him. 

A dressing gown was tossed at him before the doors were shut to the shower area, leaving just him and Eion. 

The mech chuckled and offered a servo. “Eion, Orion right? Congrats on getting the spot.”

Optimus’ jaw was hanging a bit. “Um… what? I’m sorry I’ve been told… very… very little about what’s going on here… where am I?”

Eion laughed. “You’re on level four, and this chunk of the level is set aside for us Entertainers, the femme who dragged us in is our supervisor, Jadarite. The rest of us, you now included, all work in the main entertainment district of the Polaris. Dancers, wait staff, table jockeys, that kind of stuff… got any experience with dealing out tables?” Eion asked.

Optimus shook his helm. “Um no… I was just a waiter and danced back at the club… sometimes I also sang, sometimes.” He flushed the full way through the admission of his previous roles.

Eion smiled, hopped up and patted Optimus on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you get up to speed, but Jadarite was, well, right, you are filthy, c’mon, showers work like any other shower, but be careful, the max temp is only the max temp because we have some sadomasochists on board who get their jollies off going to Dust for scalded plating!” He grinned and giggled as his own apparent joke, whacking him on the shoulder quickly.

Optimus knew his jaw was hanging a bit, it felt like it was going to be a permanent expression on his features for quite a time to come. “Why do I feel like… at least half of this ship is on their way to going insane?”

Eion really laughed then, waving the mech off. “Comes with the territory! I’m assuming you’ve never been off the home world before?”

Optimus shook his helm. 

Eion grinned. “Then don’t worry, you’ll be one of us in no time in that department too! Now wash up! And dump those clothes in the hamper over there, they’ll be given a proper wash and sent to your new quarters long before we’ll be done with you for the cycle!”

And with that, the green and red mech slipped back out, closing the door behind him and leaving Optimus to stand alone in the mechs showers holding a dressing gown and wondering what fate Megatron had thrown him to.

Tentatively, Optimus got to undressing, spotting the hamper Eion had mentioned and dumping them all inside and silently hoping he didn’t loose them, he hadn’t had time to pack anything at all, not even a spare change of briefs. 

He didn’t bother to don the dressing gown just yet, putting it up on one of the hooks a safe distance away from the showers next to where a number of unbelievably plush towels were hung, they were so soft…

Before he even knew what he was doing, he had one of the towels and was just rubbing his face against it, it was so soft and fluffy he could just melt!

He supposed otherworldly soft towels was a good quality he could chalk up to working here.

Knowing he’d get to wrap himself up in at least two of those towels once he was washed, he moved over to the showers and inspected them, the controls looked simple enough, hot and cold were colour coded and he just needed to lift the lever like nob up to increase the pressure.

Picking a temp a bit below the ‘you sadomasochists’ engraved plaque that was over the dashed part of the red, Optimus braced himself and turned on the shower head he’d found himself under.

HOT.

He jumped back, luckily the tiled floor was dry so he didn’t slip, but Primus!

Oh right, he’d not had a hot shower since his cycles at the academy, wanted to avoid paying a high heating bill.

Steam was already starting to billow out from around the spray, bringing up the humidity of the area.

He reached past the spray and notched down the temperature and tested it again with two digits, still warm, not scalding. 

Bracing himself, he stepped back under, and got to work trying to get himself presentable, making use of a handy little solvent dispenser that was mounted on the wall in a little wire basket just to his left. 

Eventually the suds and solvent were all washed away, and the water running off his frame was just as clear as when it hit his helm and the broad span of his back. 

Turning off the faucet Optimus looked out at the steam filled room, and carefully, mindful of the now wet floor, stepped over to the towels and where he’d left the dressing gown.

The first one he used to rub down his frame to get the water that was taking it’s time vacating the panes of his frame, the second smaller one he used to rub his faceplates dry, as well as focus on the harder to reach spots. 

All done with drying off, he slipped the dressing gown on.

And oh he was never getting out of this, the inside lining was even more soft, and fluffy!

He gave himself a few kliks to just melt into the softness before he moved back to the door that led back out to where all the other bots were.

He cracked the door open, and found many of the bots from before were gone, Eion was still there, as well as Calipso and Jadarite, but only two others remained, and they seemed to be just finishing the last of their apparel.

Jadarite turned to regard him and smiled. “Much better darling, c’mon out, there’s no need to be shy.” She coaxed, she was an older femme who had apparently perfected the ‘soothing frightened bots’ voice, because the moment her servos took his, he was more than willing to step back out into the main area, despite only wearing a dressing gown, he should feel more… not ashamed, he’d done nothing wrong, embarrassed? No… considering how communal everything in this area was, he couldn’t imagine these bots around him being very prudish. 

Jadarite patted his shoulder once he was seated at a vanity that was much more barren than the rest of those in the room. “Alright dear, let’s see how we can gussy you up right pretty with what we’ve got here.”

He nodded, and just let them do what they wanted. 

Three joors, a number of rambles about Knockout’s skill of being better than him at this sort of thing, and a whole reel of measuring tape, and the, dress prep? Was complete. 

Jadarite clapped her servos together, and spun his chair to face the mirror. 

Okay, he’d bite, he looked good, the eyeliner in particular was really framing his optics well while also defying the laws of physics to a truly astonishing degree.

Calipso, who was a rather timid thing, gave him a small smile. “We’ll figure out stuff like what colours work best with you and if plumage works next cycle, do you wanna keep that stuff on and wash it off later or do you prefer us getting it all off now?”

He glanced to the three who’d laboured and experimented away at his features for the last three joors to get him looking this good. “Um, I’ll keep it on? So… what next?”

Jadarite beamed at him. “Now’s the fun part, the shows over for the night, so everybots gonna be coming back to finish up for the cycle, and from there, we’re all hitting our private bar here on deck four. If you want to come along, I’m sure Unverlo will be able to lend you something comfortable, he’s a bit bigger than you so you shouldn’t have any issue with fitting into something of his.”

“You’re sure he won’t mind?”

Apparently the mech in question didn’t mind at all, and had an apparently love for big, fluffy and baggy jumpers, which hung off one of his shoulders no matter how many times he tried to adjust it while he found himself sitting at the Entertainers private bar and had conversations struck up with him by basically everyone he was going to be working with.

The Bar was, Optimus couldn’t describe it in a single word, but everything seemed to of been designed for relaxation and winding down.

There was dim mood lighting that pulsed around the room, the only stron light coming from the vibrantly coloured tanks of energon that bubbled and churned behind the bar. 

The opposite side from the bar was where the tables were, built into the wall around circular tables, the padded seats had enough room for everyone.

Opposite from the entrance, and passed a small dance floor, with a familiar pole mounted in the centre, was a floor to ceiling window out into space, the stars beyond providing a stunning backdrop to the bots dancing.

Unverlo, the mech he was currently sitting next too at the bar was a soft spark with a love for neo-felines, he apparently had four in his own suite and he had maxed out three data-pads image storage with pictures and videos full of the brightly coloured, highly affectionate things.

Unverlo admitted he spoiled them all rotten with treats and affection.

Optimus had cooed over every picture and goofy video he’d seen, even asking at once point if he could be taken to see them one cycle.

Unverlo was more than happy to accept, setting a date and time right there and then before taking a cube of mid grade, he apparently wasn’t too fond of high grade, something about his tanks not agreeing with it, before he vacated the seat next to Optimus and let someone else quickly take it.

Which turned out to be Calipso, who struck up her own quiet conversation with him.

The rest of the night cycle continued like that until Jadarite announced it was time for everyone to retire, which many did without too much grumbling.

Some left in pairs, others in small groups, Eion offered to show him where his room was and he gladly accepted, Unverlo had already left so he assumed the soft baggy clothes would be returned to the mech the next cycle when clothes more suited for him were ready.

Admittedly he’d miss the jumper.

Eion led the way to his new room, providing some idle chatter about this and that as Optimus took the time to appreciate just how, luxurious everything was.

Him bumping into Eion’s back was what snapped him out of appreciating the decor. 

Eion held up a key, not a key card, but an actual key and passed it to him. “Don’t loose it, okay? The smith here on the ship doesn’t like it when bots loose his keys.” 

Optimus nodded in understanding. “I understand, thank you Eion… would you be willing to collect me tomorrow? I fear I may get lost a number of times before I get proper bearings of this place.”

Eion smiled up at him and nodded. “Sure thing! I’ll come pick you up before morning feuling, see you then Orion!” The mech waved goodby as he walked off, heading towards his own suite.

Optimus watched him go for a few moments, before turning his attention to the door and sliding the key into the keyhole.

A quick twist and the sound of a needlessly complicated locking mechanism coming undone later, and he was stepping into his suite.

The moment the room registered to him, he did a double take.

It was larger than his shared apartment back in Iacon!

His jaw was dropped once more as he took in the sprawling open plan suite.

A glance to his right revealed a modest kitchenette, fridge, oven, energon dispenser, sink, a number of sleek engraved cabinet doors…

A glance to the left revealed the open door to a lavish wash rack, there was even a bath large enough for him to submerge in completely!

He walked into the washrack and felt his lower jaw threaten to fall off, it wasn’t just a bath, it was a Primus be damned jacuzzi! 

He found four dressing gowns hanging by the door, and soon discovered his alias designation of ‘Orion’ had been stitched into each on the breast pocket in cursive text, in golden thread no less.

He found some make up wipes in a draw under the mirror in the washracks, and after a bit of hesitation, wiped off the makeup he’d been wearing, he was planning to locate the berth and pass out, and he didn’t want to make a mess of the pillows he had a hunch were going to be just as lavish as everything else. 

Finished with cleaning himself up, Optimus stepped back out into the open plan living area, there was a number of pieces of furniture dotted about with little tables and table lights next to them, perfect for some light reading under soft light. 

He’d have to see about acquiring some data pads from the Library Neolock had mentioned earlier, apparently it was two floors down nearby that floors branch medical bay.

Walking through the door into the berthroom, he had to do a double take.

That berth could fit four of him!

He was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion, and suddenly he didn’t care that the berth was massive, wider than his old room in Iacon was, he reached the end, fell into a crowl, kicked off his shoes, and slid face down onto the covers and just took in the smell of freshly washed sheets.

Running his digits over it, he marveled at the texture, cool to the touch, but promising to trap heat…

A bit of fumbling later and he was under the covers, snuggled into one of the ludicrously plush pillows.

Recharge claimed him before he could even turn the rooms lights off.

A few moments later the lights flickered out, and an airy giggle came over the speaker nestled in the wall.

“Sleep well new crew.” An autotune voice whispered, as the lights in the rest of the room shut off, and the door left unlocked deadbolted itself shut.

[plaidbooks]

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 12

A/N: This chapter is more filler; just hitting some show/canon-plot points that are important to the characters, namely Rafael’s grandmother and Olivia adopting Noah. The next chapter will be more plot based, I think!

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Tags: mentions of death, alcohol/vomiting, smut, spanking, p in v sex, nipple play (only lightly)

Words: 4k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @mrsrafaelbarba @averyhotchner

Interstate 95

Wednesday, February 11th. 4:05pm

“Yeah, I’m on my way back to the city right now,” Devon was saying into the Bluetooth speaker of the car; the phone call she was on was displayed on the radio, audio coming through the car’s speakers.

“Good, because Barba’s having a rough time right now. Family problems,” Olivia replied, voice tight. Devon knew the broad strokes of what was going on from her rushed phone calls with the counselor—she had a hard enough time trying to talk to him at all while undercover, and he didn’t like bringing up personal problems during their clipped conversations, instead trying to stick with lighter topics, and whispering how much they missed each other, loved each other. But she knew something was troubling him. She grilled him until he finally mentioned that he was trying to have his mom help convince his abuelita to move into an assisted living home, and it was not going well.

“Thanks for the heads up, Liv. I’ll go straight to his place,” Devon said, smiling. She figured she could order them some dinner from Barba’s favorite Thai place, sit him down, and cuddle until he was feeling better.

Flanagan’s Bar

Wednesday, February 11th. 7:48pm

Devon burst through the bar’s door, eyes scanning the room quickly before settling on the familiar back of her boyfriend. She blew out a sigh of relief. She had made it to his place hours ago, only to find it empty. She sent a text to him while she drove to the courthouse but heard no response. The courts turned up empty, as did his office, Carmen, who was just leaving herself, saying that Barba had left early for the day—family emergency. Devon had switched to calling the man, but he wasn’t answering, letting it ring and ring until it went to voicemail. Heart in her throat, Devon started going to all of his favorite places that she could think of, calling Olivia to ask her if she or any of the detectives had heard from him, to no avail. Liv, just as worried as Devon, put out an APB to all units. Almost immediately, an off-duty cop responded back, saying that Barba was sitting at Flanagan’s Bar, drinking like a fish. Devon was a little upset with herself for not checking there first, hurrying to the bar and telling Liv to call off the alarm.

She walked in slowly towards the ADA. She wasn’t mad at him, quite the opposite; for him to be acting like this, she knew he was hurting, and bad.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked gently, a wave of déjà vu hitting her.

Barba turned to look at her, eyes bleary, movement slow and unsteady. “Dev?” he whispered. This was the first time they had seen each other in weeks, and Barba wasn’t quite sure if it was her, or just a drunken illusion.

“Uh huh. Come on, let’s get you home,” she said, taking his empty glass out of his hand and putting it down on the bar. She waved the bartender down, asking for the tab. Her eyes widened when she saw how much he had drunk. She paid, thanking the bartender, and scooped to help Barba stand. She never knew him to get drunk, not like this, and it worried her.

Once outside in the fresh, chilly air, Barba stood up slightly straighter, as if the cold helped sober him a little. Then, he turned towards the building and vomited. Devon rubbed his back comfortingly, whispering “let it all out, baby.” Once finished, she loaded him into her car, shooting a quick text to Olivia that she found him, had him.

They rode in silence, Devon letting him sober up, Barba leaning his too-hot face against the cold window, eyes closed. Hopefully, no one saw him in front of the bar, Devon thought ruefully; she knew how important his reputation was to him, his job.

“It’s all my fault,” Barba whispered, his breath steaming against the window. Devon waited to see if he would continue, but it seemed like that was all he would say.

“What happened, Rafi?” she prompted softly. The words hung there in the silence for a long while, long enough that Devon thought he may have fallen asleep against the window. Finally, he spoke into the silence, his watery voice slurred, strained.

“Mamí found abuelita dead in her bed this morning. It’s my fault; she always said she wanted to die in her home, and I was the one trying to move her. I killed my abuelita…” he continued to speak in mumbled Spanish, words Devon couldn’t make out, but what sounded like a hushed prayer. She glanced over briefly and saw wet streaks trailing down his cheeks.

Her heart strained in her chest and she reached a hand over, taking his hand in her own. Thankfully, she was pulling up to Barba’s loft soon after; amazingly, there was an open space almost right in front. She stopped the engine, getting out and quickly coming to his side of the car, opening the door and helping him stand. He was unsteady on his feet, swaying back and forth.

“Come on, dear. Let’s get you to bed,” Devon murmured in his ear. She whispered how much she loved him, and how amazing he was; she knew that he’d most likely forget this night—they’d talk about his grandma tomorrow, when he was a little more sound of mind. Right now, she just wanted to assure him with how much she cared for him.

They made it over the threshold and back to the bedroom before Devon deposited him on the bed. She hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and a couple slices of bread—better than nothing on an empty stomach, and it would soak up whatever alcohol remained. She came back to find Barba sitting in the same position she had left him in, head lolling forward on his chest

“Drink this,” she instructed, shoving the water into his hands. She made sure he took it before she dropped to her knees, working on stripping his shoes and socks off. He obediently drank the whole glass. Devon stood, taking the glass and placing it on the nightstand and picking up the bread she had put there, shoving that into his hands. “Eat.”

Again, Barba obeyed, ripping chunks off with his fingers and popping them into his mouth. Devon worked around him, undoing his tie, forcing his suspenders off his shoulders, unbuttoning his shirt. By the time he finished the bread, he had been stripped down to an undershirt and pants.

“Up,” Devon commanded, helping him stand. He rocked for a moment on uneasy feet before he stood there. With deft hands, Devon undid his belt and shoved his pants to the floor. She moved behind him, pulling the sheets back before she was back in front of him, helping him sit back on the bed, then lay down.

“Sleep, baby. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” she whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you,” he mumbled. “Sleep with…me?” His voice trailed off, already falling asleep. Devon smiled. She took the glass off the nightstand, refilling it in the kitchen, before replacing it within reach of him. She stopped to look down at him, a bittersweet smile on her face as his soft snores filled the room. She then stripped down to just her shirt and panties and climbed in next to him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in his sleep.

Apartment of Olivia Benson

Saturday, June 11th. 5:36pm

“To Noah Porter-Benson!” everyone cheered, wine glasses clinking. Devon smiled brightly at her best friend; Olivia Benson, a permanent mother! The adoption went through; Johnny D, Noah’s biological father, was dead, thanks to Detective Nick Amaro—though he took a pretty bad shot in the knee—and now Olivia and Noah could move forward with their lives. The group had broken up into smaller pairs, people milling about, chatting.

“So, what about you two? Gonna have kids some day?” the new detective, Sonny Carisi, asked Devon and Barba, eyebrows raising.

They looked at each other; they never really talked about it before. “Ah, I was never really interested in kids,” Devon said awkwardly, sipping at her wine. She was curious how Barba would respond.

“I could go either way, honestly. But I think I’m too old for kids, now,” he replied, smirking.

Sonny nodded in understanding. It was no secret that this Italian, Catholic man wanted a big family, but at least he was respectful of others. “That makes sense. Plus, I don’t think the world is ready for little Barbas to be runnin’ around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, detective?” Barba said, eyes flashing.

“Let it go,” Devon smirked. Sonny stifled a chuckle, then was called away by Rollins.

“But what did he mean by that?” Barba was still asking, failing at concealing his smile. Devon laughed.

“Sometimes you can be…a lot,” she grinned at his mock offended face.

“Oh? Care to explain how I’m ‘a lot’?” He moved close, hand on her hip and pulling her to him. “I’m going to be ‘a lot’ more than you can handle after this party,” he whispered before he moved away, a dark gleam in his eyes. Devon swallowed, ignoring the heat in her face, and the heat going between her legs.

She moved across the room, heading to Olivia right as she finished her conversation with Fin.

“Congratulations, Liv,” Devon said, pulling her friend in for a hug. They held each other for a long time, remembering the years they had spent together, all the hardships that they had overcome to get to here.

 “We deserve this,” Olivia whispered into Devon’s ear. They pulled away and smiled at each other. Devon finally looked away, eyes drifting across the room. They found Barba’s green ones, him somehow knowing that she was looking to him, and locking to hers. He shot her one of his small, sweet smiles, one that was meant for her and for her only.

“Yes, yes we do,” Devon replied, feeling like she was going to burst with all the love in the room, from her boyfriend to her best friend, to all the SVU detectives that she could call her friends…her family.

They mingled for a little while longer before Barba was practically dragging Devon out the door, pulling her insistently by the wrist. Devon giggled, saying goodbye and another rushed congratulations to Olivia before following her boyfriend out of the apartment. They made it a couple steps down the hallway before Barba had pushed Devon against the wall, kissing her deeply. Devon smiled, pulling him closer to her.

“Eager, are we?” she asked, laughing. His hands moved to her hips, pinning her there.

Barba pulled back, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You just look so damn delicious in that dress,” he whispered back, attacking her neck with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue.

Devon stifled a moan. “Come on, before the others catch us.”

“Who cares if they do?” he commented, but reluctantly, Barba peeled himself off her, hand clasping around her wrist and pulling her towards the exit. The ride back to his place took forever. Barba sure didn’t help things as his hands played with the hem of Devon’s dress, rubbing up and down on her thigh, moving up higher and higher on every stroke. His other arm was around her shoulders, hand resting on her neck, thumb caressing her cheek. Devon focused on her breathing, trying to keep from squeezing her thighs together, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure building there. She had a firm hand on Barba’s knee, gripping him with white knuckles. From the grin on his face, he was quite enjoying the effect he was having on the agent.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Saturday, June 11th. 9:05pm

Much like at Olivia’s place, they made it to the hallway outside of Barba’s residence before he had pounced on her, one hand on her hip, the other pinning her wrists above her head. Their mouths had crashed in a fight of tongues and teeth, rough and passionate. Barba eventually moved to leave sloppy kisses down her jaw before grazing his teeth along her collarbone.

“Fuck, Rafi…” Devon whined, trying to move her hips, but he held her down.

 “I’ve wanted you all damn night,” he murmured against her skin, flicking his tongue out to taste her. She felt him grind his hardening cock against her center, making her moan.

“Take me then,” she whispered into his ear. Barba groaned, dragging her away from the wall and finally to his front door. He fumbled with his keys, finally unlocking the door, Devon barely waiting for him to close it behind him before she was kissing him, hands curling through his soft locks, tongue pushing into his mouth. Barba moved his hands to her ass, squeezing the soft flesh, causing her to yelp. Laughing, Devon wrapped her legs around his hips, allowing Barba to carry her towards the bedroom, his mouth biting and sucking deep bruises into her neck.

Barba walked to the edge of the bed, waiting until his legs touched the soft fabric before he fell forward, gently falling on top of Devon. She released him from her legs, allowing him to stand and shed his sweater, then his shirt. He held a hand out to her, and she took it. He pulled her to her feet, gave her a soft kiss, then spun them around so that he was sitting on the bed and she was standing in front of him.

Knowing what he wanted, that he loved watching her strip, Devon moved slowing, letting her hand drift behind her, clasping the zipper to her dress. She unzipped it slowly, using her free hand to hold the front of the dress, not letting it fall off her. Not yet. Plastering a playful smile on her face, she turned slowly, so that her back was facing him, before she let the dress fall. She heard Barba’s sharp intake of breath as he saw the bright red, lacy lingerie underwear perfectly wrapping her ass, like it was a gift specially wrapped for him. She looked over her shoulder at him, his lust-blown eyes indeed on her ass before slowly roaming over her hips, back, and finally resting on her face. He spun his finger in the air, motioning for her to turn.

Devon smirked, stepping forward out of the dress, though away from him, hips swaying, and his eyes snapped back to her ass, his hands unconsciously clenching the bedsheets next to him. She could see his cock twitch in response, even with it covered by the fabric of his pants. Chuckling, she finally turned to face him, red, lacy bra matching the underwear, damp spot obvious at her crotch.

“Come here,” he commanded. It came out as a growl, voice fully primal, dark with lust. Devon obeyed, swaying her hips as she came to stand in front of Barba. He grabbed her by the hips and brought her forcefully down to sit in his lap, legs straddling his. She groaned when his rock-hard cock rubbed against her soaked panties, her hips grinding against him in response. He kissed her roughly, one hand pulling her hair gently, the other moving under her bra to play with her breast, teasing and pinching a nipple. Devon arched her back, pushing into his hand, moans swallowed by his hungry mouth. She reached down, pulling at his belt, fumbling to undo it, along with the fly on his slacks.

Barba’s mouth moved to her neck, leaving more marks in its wake. He reached behind her, unclasping her bra expertly and tossing the article of clothing to the side. He picked her up, then, and flipped her onto her back, laying on top of her, mouth moving to her chest. He spent his time, licking, biting, sucking. While his mouth was on one nipple, his hand would be playing with the other. Every now and again, he would grind into her, never in a rhythm and always catching Devon off guard, making her moan loudly. He took a nipple into his mouth, suckling particularly hard, and rocked his hips against her roughly, and Devon cried out, seeing stars.

 “Did…did you just cum?” Barba asked in shock. He stopped his ministrations, raising his head to look deeply into her eyes, making sure she was alright.

Devon could feel her face heat in embarrassment. “I, uh…I think so, yeah….”

She looked into back into his face, not sure what to say. But then the most arrogant smile crept across his face. “I didn’t know I had that effect on you, Hermosa…cumming before I even touch you there….”

She rolled her eyes, huffing. “Cocky asshole.” His eyes flashed at the title, smile widening. But then, it faltered.

“Did…did you want to continue?” he asked, eyes searching hers for any kind of hesitation, of discomfort.

Devon smiled softly at him, at his concerns. “Please,” she whispered. He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss, full of love, before he continued his onslaught of her chest. He didn’t stay there long, though, as he continued moving further down her body, kissing her flushed skin as he went. His fingers played with the waistband of her panties as he leaned back on his haunches, looking up at her through hooded eyes.

“I’d say you’re fucking soaked for me, Hermosa, but I think that’s an understatement,” he purred, pulling her underwear off and flinging them to the side.

“You know, Pride is a sin, Raf—ohh,” Devon moaned, throwing her head back as Barba leaned forward, tongue swirling around her already oversensitive clit. Instantly, he had a finger in her, slipping a second one in easily. He pumped his fingers, curling them, while he sucked and licked at her clit. Devon gripped the bedsheets, filling the bedroom with noises, uncaring who heard. When he added a third finger, hitting her g-spot, and sucking particularly hard on her sensitive nub, Devon came hard, his name a prayer on her lips. He continued fucking her through her orgasm, Barba lapping up everything she had to give him. He withdrew from her, licking his fingers clean, letting her breathing return to normal.

“God, you taste divine,” he commented, licking his lips.

Devon watched him through heavy lids. “And you are absolutely sinful,” she replied. He grinned darkly, looking every bit as sinful as he knew he was.

“Look who’s talking; calling me sinful while looking like this,” he gestured at her naked form, sprawled on the bed, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Maybe you should get over here and cleanse me then, sir,” she said, looking up at him innocently through her lashes. Barba groaned before climbing on top of her. He loved when she called him ‘sir’; it turned him on more than anything else.

He kissed her roughly, then whispered into her ear, breath hot against her skin, “confess to me what you want, and maybe I’ll give you absolution.”

Devon reached down, rubbing his hardness though his pants. “Well, for starters, I want you to lose the clothes.”

“Ask and it shall be yours,” he murmured, undoing his pants and pushing them along with his boxers off, kicking them to the floor. He hissed when she grabbed him, hand wrapping around his length and giving him a few strokes, thumb spreading the pre-cum around the tip.

“I want you to take me from behind,” she whispered against his mouth. His cock twitched in her hand and he groaned at her words.

“Fucking sinful,” he murmured before grabbing her wrist, stopping her hand. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Devon loved when he ordered her around, a fresh feeling of heat rushing to her core. But she also loved being a brat. So, she took her dear, sweet time, flipping over slowly onto her knees, but keeping her back straight, so that she was only kneeling. She reveled in the strong hand that appeared between her shoulder blades, shoving her forwards, barely getting her hands up in time to catch herself. She yelped in surprise at the swift swat on her ass, Barba letting the sting sit there for a moment before he was rubbing it away.

“Do you like that, Cariño?” he asked, hands roughly kneading the soft flesh of her ass.

She pushed back against his hands. “Yes, sir. Spank me harder, please.”

“Begging already?” But he obliged, bringing his hand down on the other cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to feel the sting. Devon moaned in pleasure. He gave her a few more smacks before he was rubbing the pain away again, his hands soothing the hot, red skin.

“Please, sir. Fuck me,” she whined, wiggling her ass back at him. He didn’t respond, just chuckled darkly. She felt the bed sink down as he got on the bed behind her. He used his fingers first, using two to tease her entrance before pushing in, stretching her. Devon dropped her head, until Barba used his free hand to wrap in her hair, pulling her head back up, though not painfully. He pulled his fingers back out, causing Devon to whine at the loss of contact.

“Ready?” he asked. He always asked, every time.

“Ready,” she confirmed. Barba used one hand to hold her hips stable, the other hand guiding the tip of his cock to her tight entrance. He moved slowly but didn’t stop until he was fully seated in her, Devon moaned at the feeling of fullness, of completion. She adored how he felt inside of her, every ridge, every vein dragging against her in the perfect way.

Barba waited until her walls were no longer clenching around him until he started moving. He started at a slow, tortuous pace, both hands going to Devon’s hips, pulling her back against him as he thrusted forward, pace soon increasing. The room quickly filled with the sound of skin slapping, moaning, and the squelching sound of Barba pounding into her faster and faster. He finally reached down, pulling Devon’s torso up so that she was flush against his chest, hands groping her breasts roughly.

“God, you take my cock so good,” he grunted in her ear. One of his hands trailed down her body, fingers rubbing at her swollen clit. He leaned down to bite into her neck and Devon cried out, screaming Barba’s name as she came for a third time. Barba pumped into her, dropping her torso against the bed, Devon too tired to even attempt with her arms. He gripped her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and thrusted until he was cumming deep inside her, Devon’s name groaned into the silence of the bedroom. He collapsed on top of her, cock softening inside of her. They stayed like that for a moment, panting. Barba finally pulled out, headed to the bathroom. He cleaned himself before bringing out a clean, wet washcloth for Devon, who had flipped onto her back, but otherwise hadn’t moved. He spread her legs open and went about cleaning her.

“I love you,” she whispered into the room, still breathless.

Barba smiled softly, running the washcloth over her soft skin. “I love you, too, Cariño.”

Devon sat up, taking the washcloth from him, and taking it to the bathroom for him. She was in there for a couple more moments before she came back, finding Barba lying in bed under the sheets. She climbed in next to him, laying her head on his chest.

“Move in with me,” he said suddenly.

Devon chuckled. “Where’s this coming from?” It wasn’t that she was against the idea—quite the opposite, actually—but they had never discussed it before now.

“We hardly see each other as it is; what’s the point of living at different places? You’re normally here, anyways,” Barba started. “If…if you think that we’re moving too fast—”

“No, not at all,” she cut him off. “Hell, we lived together the first four months we knew each other. And we’ve been dating for almost a year now. If anything, we’re moving kinda slow….”

“Soo…” he trailed off. “Is that a yes?”

Devon raised her head to look at him in the eye. Barba had that look in his bright, green eyes; it was the look where he was pretty sure he knew what her answer would be, but that doubt in his mind was still there.

“Of course, that’s a yes. Do you even need to ask?”

He seemed to mull this over, his eyes rolling in mock thought. “Generally, yes. It’s kind of expected. But I’m still happy with the outcome.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, which Devon pulled back, turning to kiss him on the lips sweetly.

[timetraveller29]

At Last

A Doctor Who fanfiction for #WhouffleWeek2020

Day 4 - Coat, outerwear / Food

Featuring the Thirteenth Doctor and Clara

The Doctor was working on a problem that had plagued her for not just days but weeks now. She danced around the console, from tweaking measurements one side to dials on the other, glanced at the displays, grimaced, then changed something yet again. It was proving difficult at the very least. She stopped and exhaled.

Maybe she should stop bothering about it.

But she couldn't help it.

It was so hard to be alone! And she adored her new TARDIS team, sure, but they didn’t know her. They didn't understand the darkness of her past, and if they knew, they'd probably leave her... just like so many companions had left her. And then there were others she had left behind...

The Doctor missed all of her friends with a burning constancy. Bill Potts, Missy, even Nardole! And she knew it was foolish to hope to find any of them, but there was a slight possibility that there was one person she could meet.

On second thought? Maybe it did make sense to give up.

She turned around slowly, boredly, expecting to see that same result she’d grown used to... null. Nothing. Zero. A blank space, and then she’d have to start all over again with a new plan...

Wait!

A wild, crazy grin grew on her entire face, a grin that popped at the eyes and wrinkled her nose.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then, louder and louder: “Yes, yesss, YESSS!”

And she prepared the TARDIS, pressing a number of buttons, turning dials, entering coordinates, until she finally gripped the lever in her hand. At last, long last! She felt the power course through her veins as she held off for a mere second, relishing what she was about to do. And down went the lever with a satisfying, resounding thrum from the engines...

She was off.

“So! Where to, next?” Ashildr said, in a distant and second-hand set of dimensions.

The room was white and blaring. They hadn’t been able to change the desktop theme yet. The manual hadn’t been particularly helpful, and it made Clara understand why most of the time the Doctor preferred to steer through trial and error...

“I don’t know,” she said to her, standing up and staring at the vision screens. One of them showed a rolling peach coloured ocean at a pearly white coast, one of the most gorgeous planets they’d visited in their travels. They didn’t get into nearly as much trouble as the Doctor would, though. That was heartening, what with her delicate... health... She placed a hand on her wrist, subconsciously looking for a pulse again. It had become a bad habit. She noticed, and scratched her ear instead. “Maybe we’ll just... Stay here for a while... We could just have a stroll, look at the view, and have a swim in the eveneing! Who knows what we'll find? And we could always leave the next adventure till tomorrow.”

Ashildr was unconcerned. “Sure, whatever you want.” She sat down on a chair and propped her feet on a footrest, both silver as the floor designs, with a journal on her lap.

Clara rolled her eyes. Her companion could be really unenthusiastic sometimes. Well, what she thought of as her companion.

“Right,” she said, “I’ll be out in reception if you need me... I’m gonna finish up some of that banana icecream from the pantry...”

“You know that eating is probably not recommended in your case, right?”

“It helps me think, okay? And so what if I don’t have a metabolism anymore, I still have senses!”

“Okay,” she said, holding up her hands in a concilliatory fashion, knowing it was a touchy subject. “Okay, go ahead.” And she went back to writing.

Clara glanced at the screen again. “What -?” She flipped her head around at Ashildr, then back again. “Do you –”

“I see it.”

“Should I -?”

“Go! Find out.”

She put her journal aside and stood to observe the second screen, the one that had changed. Her companion dashed inside to change into her waitress uniform. Well, what she thought of as her companion.

Meanwhile, the figure on the screen moved to the counter and sat down.

“Hey!” Clara said to her with a smile, entering the main hall of the diner at last.

It was like water bursting out of the ground in a barren desert. The Doctor looked at her, and everything came alive, fervently and insistently: the Ice Warrior in the submarine, the mummy on the Orient Express, the portrait of her in Time Lord Hell where it hung for billions of years, and the dazzling euphoria of bringing her back on Gallifrey... It filled her heart, and there was only one thing to be said...

“Doctor,” Clara said nodding at her confidently, interrupting her train of thought.

She raised her eyebrows, impressed.

“You recognised me! Clara Oswald, ever full of surprises.”

Clara grinned. “As are you!” she countered. “Where did you find your memories? Guess that Neural Block didn’t work on you for too long, eh?”

“Nah,” she said, broadening her shoulders. “It’ll take more than that to get you out of my head, Clara Oswald! Although I did have a lot of help... Tell me," she said, remembering her point, "how are you? I'm so sorry I couldn't help you more last time, that I –"

"Don't! Don't apologise," Clara shook her head, her ponytail bouncing with it. She looked serious. "You were so amazing, Doctor. This? Me being here, talking? That's all you! So don't ruin the effect by being humble. It doesn't suit you."

The Doctor closed her mouth. Oh, yeah. That's who she had been, after all: proud and entitled. And Clara was the same. Neither her past self nor Clara had ever dealt well with raw emotion. Good reminder; something she would have to work on this time around.

"No matter," she said. "So, go on," she added, raising her tempo to something more cheerful, "Clara, the Time Traveller! Have you travelled much? I see you've picked a scenic spot to park yourself. The vagabond life treatin’ you well?”

“I’ve had some okay adventures,” she shrugged. “Nothing too crazy, thanks to your esteemed absence.”

“Hah! Well, I’m glad you’re taking care...”

“And nice look, by the way!”

“Thank you! I was wondering if it suited me... Brand new face and all!”

“I love your new coat! Very Doctor-y.”

“Oh yeah? I thought you might approveñ”

“It’s gorgeous... On the other hand, the colours? Yellow suspenders? I can see there that you’ve started to call back the... ahem!... fez-like... fashion choices...” Clara read the growing offense on the Doctor's face and popped herself underneath the counter to hide –

“What's wrong with yellow? Plus! Fezzes! Are cool!”

She jumped out of her seat and began to lean across to get a glimpse of Clara and where she was hiding.

“No they’re not!” she teased. “Fezzes have never been cool, and neither are bowties! Come on, it's a new face isn't it, grow some new taste!”

“How dare you! You know I never criticised you for the way you –”

“Oh? Oh yeah?” She popped up from the opposite end of the long table, holding some plastic jars in her arms. “She’s got a face so wide she needs three mirrors!” she said trying to do a deep, gruff voice. The Doctor scrambled over the counter and raced to catch her, but Clara slipped open a door and locked her on the staff-only side. “Oh! Stay there,” she giggled, “stay there, or I’ll call in security!”

“Clara, let me out! – and I only said that because it’s true! What did you need three mirrors for?!”

“It helps to make sure my makeup is even! You know, the face colouring you never understood!”

“Well, I do now!” she lunged her arms forward to get at the latch and escape from her trap behind the counter but Clara slapped her away and raised up her hand, balancing jars dangerously with the other.

“Peace,” she called. “Peace offering! Doctor! Look, I’ve got banana icecream!”

The Doctor dropped her arms at that and rolled her eyes at Clara, who was comically supporting the jars between one arm and knee. Then she chuckled and gave her a warm smile, one that reminded Clara of the way the Doctor would look at her in a earlier, simpler times... “All right,” she said, leaning her elbows on the counter and raising her eyebrows. “Okay, we'll let it rest. Just for the banana icecream... Bananas are good.”

“That,” Clara said, settling herself on a stool and setting the ice cream between them, “That, we can agree on...”

The Doctor reached into a drawer to produce some spoons, her heart swelling. It was a strange thing, but it was so refreshing to be around Clara again, to be surprised, to be challenged, even criticised... to be known.

When the universe turns you upside down, there's nothing that can bring you back on your head like an old friend.

... All the while, Ashildr watched them and gave a heavy sigh.

She disabled the audio and stepped away.

It wouldn’t last, she knew. Even with her memories back, the Doctor would have to leave Clara once and for all. The girl was on the final thread of her life, maybe streached out a bit longer, but final nonetheless. There would have to be a goodbye, a difficult one, and simple comfort food wasn’t going to help either of them with that...

Still. At least it happened.

She turned a page of her journal, thinking.

Perhaps, in some cases, it’s better to focus on the good times you’ve had with someone, even the fleeting ones, instead of the pain they leave behind. Perhaps temporary happiness does beat permanent indifference.

Well... for mortals, at any rate.

She glanced up from her chair from time to time as they conversed, gesturing animatedly at each other, as the day wore on. Clara seemed to have forgotten about her plan to go swimming. She was so happy just talking to the Doctor, did she dare interrupt?

No. She smiled. This was what Clara had been waiting for. She'd let her have one day to herself, one day pretending to be alive and with the Doctor, at last.

[bazaarwords]

A (Very Long) Theater Glossary

I’ll be adding to this as I add chapters—please let me know if any terms aren’t clear, correct, or if I’m missing any!

(now alphabetized by chapter by the very awesome @osmriceu)

You can read the fic here, and find the glossary below the cut!

CHAPTER 1

Actor’s Equity: The theater actor’s union. An actor will accrue “points” mainly by being in productions under an Equity contract, or in theaters associated with the union. At a certain number of points, they will get their Equity card and be part of the union.

Assistant stage manager (ASM): The stage manager’s arms and legs. The amount of them is dependent on the size of the production, but often there are only two. They communicate with each other, members of the run crew and the stage manager over single-ear headsets, usually staying backstage to assist in the running of the show, as well as helping during rehearsals, with paperwork, and any other duties that may arise during the course of a production.

Black box: A type of theater, literally a room painted black on all sides, usually with a tension grid (will explain later) for hanging lights and curtains. Here, it is where they’re having their rehearsals, but it can also be used for shows. Some theaters will have multiple stages for rehearsals/multiple shows. Picture here.

Box office/box: Where audience members will get their tickets. Run by the box office manager (once Glimmer, now Micah.)

Cue: A trigger for an action, usually called by the stage manager. These are often scenery, lighting or sound cues, but there are many assorted cues that a stage manager may call depending on the needs of the production.

Curtain speech (the title of the chapter lol): Before a show, the director, artistic director of the theater, or other manager will speak on stage about the goings on in the theater and other events of import. It’s called a curtain speech because it usually happens in front of a curtain, but it doesn’t have to.

Fly rail: The area where a backstage crew member will pull ropes that raise and lower scenery/curtains/etc. Picture here.

Fly system: A series of counterweighted pulleys that allow scenery, soft goods (curtains, screens, etc), and even actors to be raised and lowered by a fly rail operator. The operator will pull ropes, usually at a stage manager’s cue, to do so. Diagram here.

Half-bricks/stage weights: Solid bricks of metal with grooves cut out of either end. Each is usually around 20lbs (~9kg.) Mostly used as counterweights to operate a fly system. Picture here.

“In the house”: Here, it refers to Bow working as an usher, directing audience members to their seats.

Lead: The lead actor/star of the show.

Lighting board/console: The device that programs and controls all lights used in a show. Manned by the light board operator. It is often moved out during technical rehearsals. Pictures here.

Loading rail: In theaters with a fly system, it is usually a second-floor catwalk along the side of a stage wall where someone can load weight on to the fly system to counterbalance it.

“Mid-stage coming in/going out”: Here, Scorpia is announcing that she’s using the fly system to bring a curtain down so it’s visible, and then back up to be hidden. Its location is important too (mid-stage,) as well as Entrapta’s acknowledgement of “thank you” because in the theater, as is the case anywhere, you don’t want a pipe coming down on your head. These call-and-responses are very common when working with dangerous technical elements.

Off-Broadway: Theaters specifically in Manhattan, New York City with an occupancy of between 100 and 499.

“Operating on blind”: Using the “blind” feature of a lighting board, which essentially allows you to program lights in the board without actually turning them on.

Principal’s dressing room: A private dressing room for the lead actor/star of the show/dumb jock lesbian.

Production booth: The room behind the audience where the stage manager operates the show from. Usually houses the lighting board and assorted lighting and sound equipment. Picture here.

Projections: Exactly what they sound like. Projection designers will often use parts of the set and even walls of the theater to project images on to, making solid pieces look animated. Picture here.

Scene shop foreman: The person in charge of safety and care of all crew and elements of the scene shop.

Set/shop crew: Carpenters and welders. The people responsible for building the scenery. They usually work out of a scene shop, where scenery pieces are built and housed until they are moved to the theater. This crew then installs the scenery on-location. This was one of my main jobs! :)

Spike tape: Usually very bright, comes in many colors. Used mainly on the floor of the stage to denote where furniture, set pieces, and other props will be on stage, so when there needs to be a shift in scenery, it can be set in the right place. Picture here.

Stage manager (SM): Essentially the liaison between all elements of a show. Runs rehearsals, keeps track of time, does paperwork, calls when the lights, sounds, and assorted other show elements happen during the show, among so many other things.

Tech crew: The technical crew responsible for all non-performance elements of the show. Carpenters, welders, lighting and sound technicians, the list goes on forever.

Technical director (TD): The person responsible for overseeing all technical elements of a show. Be it set building, lighting, sound, projections—they’re the boss and often the liaison between the different departments of tech.

The house: Where the audience sits.

Tie line: Thin black or white rope used mainly to attach curtains to pipes so they can be hung in the air.

Universe: In very simple terms, one universe is the 512 lights a lighting console with a single output can handle. More advanced boards have multiple outputs, and therefore can handle more than 512 lights.

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CHAPTER 2

Blocking: The positions and movements of actors on stage. Usually decided by a director or choreographer.

Fight captain: The cast member responsible for overseeing the choreography of fight scenes.

Ghost light: A light that is placed on the stage after everyone has left the theater. Meant to offer some light, as most theaters are very dark when empty, but also meant to help guide theater ghosts. ;)

Leko light: A type of stage light. Newer versions of this light are more commonly referred to as Source 4′s. Picture here.

Stage directions: Sections of text in the script that describe potential actor movement, scenery, lighting, and other effects and elements that are to exist within a given scene/moment. Also describe how lines are to be read (intent, volume, etc.) Often read by an ASM at a table read.

Table read: The gathering of director, actors, and management at a table where the script of the show is read out loud for the first time.

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CHAPTER 3

Contact sheet: A paper with contact information for everyone involved in a production.

Costume shop: Where all costumes are made/altered/and sometimes stored. Picture here.

Daily call: The list of actors required (or “called”) for a rehearsal. Usually placed on a call board (a cork board near where actors and crew enter the space,) where all pertinent information from stage management is posted for everyone to see.

Fitting sheet: Paperwork outlining each actor’s measurements, to be used when making costumes.

Green room: Essentially a break room for actors and crew. Sometimes actually painted green. Picture here.

Ground plan: A 2-dimensional diagram of the set from an aerial view. In a rehearsal space, it will be outlined in brightly-colored tape on the floor so actors can have an idea of where set pieces, stairs, and other objects will be on stage. Picture here.

Line notes: The first day rehearsals are conducted without the actors having access to their scripts is the first day ASMs will write down line notes. These are where the ASMs can keep track of a particular actor’s mistakes in regards to their lines. The actors are given these pages at the end of each rehearsal to brush up on problem sections.

Rehearsal report: Usually done by the stage manager or assistant stage manager, this is the log of what happened during any given rehearsal, along with notes for designers, length of rehearsal, and any other pertinent information.

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CHAPTER 4

A1: An audio engineer. Responsible for most setup and technical audio elements of a show. Communicates often with the sound designer and A2 (see next).

A2/“mic wrangler”: The person responsible for helping actors with microphones, and maintaining said microphones (batteries, sound checks, other general maintenance) for use in the show. This was also one of my jobs! :)

Cardinal stage/house directions (diagram here)

(Back)stage left/(back)stage right: Left and right from the perspective of someone onstage or backstage, facing the audience.

Downstage: Onstage, towards the audience.

House left/right: Left and right from the perspective of someone in the audience, facing the stage.

Upstage: Onstage, away from the audience.

Ear rig: A setup for a lavaliere mic (see definition) where the mic capsule and wire are attached to a piece of metal or plastic that goes around the ear of an actor. Example here.

“Giving notes”: In this context, after a rehearsal, the director will give the cast suggestions/direction that they might not have been able to implement during the rehearsal. Notes sessions can happen after the rehearsal is over. Notes can also be given to/received from the designers of the technical elements of the show (light, sound, costume, props, projections, set, etc.) 

Halo mic: A setup for a lavaliere mic (see below) where the mic capsule (picture here) rests at the center of an actor’s hairline. Example here.

House manager: The person responsible for opening the house to the audience, addressing patron concerns, and communicating with stage management.

Lavaliere mic/lav: A small, wireless microphone used by actors. Picture here.

Mic belt: An elastic belt with a pouch that holds the transmitter for an actor’s wireless mic. Picture here.

Mixing: Mixing a show involves adjusting sounds, adding effects, and raising/lowering the volume of all audio cues/music that will play during the show. In shows that have microphones that need to be adjusted manually during the course of the show, an audio engineer (A1) will use the mixing board to do this. This is known as “live mixing”. 

Prop master: The person in charge of acquiring/making all props in a show. This can range from small, handheld items, to pieces of furniture, to real food/other consumable items.

Run crew: The people that work backstage during a show. This usually refers to those crew members that move set pieces/props, but can pretty much refer to anyone backstage, doing anything. Usually under the supervision of an ASM. I worked on run crew for a bunch of shows—the longest for 8 months! :)

“Run cue thirty-six”: In lighting and sound programming, cues are numbered or lettered so that a stage manager can call them during a show, and so that they can be ordered easily. “Running a cue” just means that the light or sound board operator will turn that particular cue on.

“Show blacks”: An entirely black outfit used by members of the run crew (see definition) to stay hidden during a show. Since most shows aim to keep areas behind and to either side of the stage in the dark, this allows crew members to blend in easier.

Soundboard/mixing console: The device that programs and controls all sound effects/music used in a show. Manned by the soundboard operator. Picture here.

The rack: A piece of machinery that can allow an A2 (see below) or other backstage technician to control mic levels and other audio elements. Picture here.

Transpore/mic tape: Porous, opaque tape used for securing the thin wires of actor’s microphones to their skin. Often leaves a sticky residue/sweats right off. I hate it. Picture here.

Wings: The sides of the stage, usually hidden from the audience.

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CHAPTER 5

Tech week: The week (more or less) that all technical elements of a show are practiced with actors onstage. The week before the opening performances of a show.

Equity card: (see Actor’s Equity definition)

Fly harness: What the performer who will be flying wears so that they can be hoisted safely. There are multiple types depending on what movements the performer will be doing.

God mic: A microphone used mainly by the stage manager and director during tech week to address the cast and crew wherever they may be in the theater. During tech week, it is hooked up to be heard on the stage as well as throughout the theater, but when live performances begin, it will be hooked up to a theater’s PA system so that the stage manager’s voice can only be heard backstage by those working on the show.

Rigging: Any work that involves using ropes, pulleys, chains, or other such implements to hang curtains, pieces of scenery, and other objects that might hang from above the stage. A rigger is required to have some knowledge of proper weight distributions and load-bearing pipes (known in the theater as battens) to safely rig these objects. A rigger may also be responsible for overseeing a fly system or any of the performers that will have to fly.  

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CHAPTER 6

Lenses: A convex piece of glass or other refractive material used in stage lights. Picture here.

Lighting plot: The diagram made by the lighting designer and used by the master electrician (the person in charge of all technical lighting elements, often shortened to “ME”)  and the rest of the lighting crew that outlines where all lights will be and what lights will be used. Picture here.

One-person lift (Genie): More often referred to as a “Genie” (after the company that makes most of them.) It is an electric (can be battery- or cable-powered) lift that can raise a person upwards of 40ft (~12m) in the air to work on lights, curtains, and other stage elements that may be high up. Picture here.  

“Par” (Par can/PAR 64): A type of stage light. Picture here.

“The bucket”: The part of a lift that a person stands in.

Ten-out-of-twelves: Twelve-hour rehearsals that have an hour break for lunch and an hour break for dinner, amounting in ten hours out of twelve being used to work.

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CHAPTER 7

Prop table: Tables kept backstage that are labeled (often by an ASM or prop master) with each prop that appears in the show. Each prop usually has a special place on or under the table that it will always be returned to when not in use. This keeps props from getting lost (most of the time.) Example here.

Safety cable: All stage lights have a piece of metal aircraft-grade cable attached to them that is the first and last thing attached to the pipe the light will be hung from. It acts as another layer of protection, should the light come loose. Example here.

Shift plot: Usually made by someone in management, a shift plot is a detailed list of how the show will run. It can outline when actors exit and enter, when large props or scenery will be moved on or offstage, when costume changes will be done, and any other information that will be useful to the backstage crew in regards to running the show. It is often posted somewhere backstage for everyone to see.

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CHAPTER 8

“Break a leg”: Used in the theater in place of “good luck”. (It’s supposed to be bad luck in the theater to say “good luck”.) The history I always heard is that in the days of Vaudeville shows, there was no guarantee that an actor would get to perform, so the hope was that they’d “break”, or walk beyond the “legs” (the long curtains that obscure backstage from the audience) and get on stage.

“Calling half hour/fifteen/ten/five/etc.”: A stage manager will say over headset to their ASMs when a show is a half hour, fifteen, ten, and five minutes from beginning. The ASMs will relay this information to the actors and crew (if they are not on headsets as well.)

Dress rehearsal: Some of the last rehearsals before a show opens. These rehearsals are the first in full costumes, and incorporate all technical elements of the show.

Foley: The art of designing sounds. Here’s a cool video on foley.

Haze: One of two primary kinds of atmospheric effects. Usually produced by a haze machine, haze hangs in the air while fog rolls low to the ground.

Previews: Usually the week a show opens there will be anywhere between one and four nights of previews in which press events happen and critics come. During previews, show elements can still be changed before the opening night.

Quick change: When an actor has to change from costume to costume in a short amount of time, they will have dressers backstage that will assist them in doing so. Costumes are often designed with these changes in mind, and may have snaps or velcro for easy removal and dressing.

“Thank you five/ten/half hour/etc.”: The acknowledgement that there are five/ten/thirty/etc minutes until the show starts.

Top-of-show: The name of this story!! (Also, literally, the beginning of the show.)

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 4: Johann

I looked around to see if I could spot Nono or Caesar. I saw another young man standing next to the door to my right. He was tall, like Isaac, wearing a long dark jacket over his uniform. He was armed, a sword at his hip.

He looked back at me with bright yellow eyes. 

Fear hit me like a lightning bolt and I staggered away from him. He blinks placidly at my reaction. “You okay?”

“Sorry. Jumpy.” I looked him up and down. His sneakers caught my eye. I immediately recognized them as Air Jordans. The boys in my neighborhood coveted them for their classic professional design. “Bred 11s. Really?”

His eyebrows raised. “Got a problem?”

“It’s just… funny that you dress down to hundred dollar sneakers.” I backed away from him a step further. Was he one of Isaac's friends?

“Why is that funny?” He didn’t smile. He was curious about the answer, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because where I’m from you get shot for those. That’s why.” I snarled.

He straightened up a little more, lifting his chin in recognition. “You’re the new girl.”

I gave a flustered hiss. “Is it that obvious?”

“You shouldn’t be here by yourself. Where’s Nono?” He took a step toward me.

“I have no idea… how did y..” He took my hand. I pulled away as hard as I could. “Let me go or I swear to God I’ll scream!”

He let go immediately and I stumbled away from him.

I cradled my hand to my chest. “You think you can jerk me around like I’m some sort of doll? 

“No.” He stopped trying to move towards me. He watched me struggle not to cry.

“Good. Because people here are crazy!” I snapped at him. 

He tilted his head, one hand to his chin. “What do you mean crazy?”

I stopped cringing. He was listening? “Some guy in there was talking about fairy tales being real and stuff.”  I massaged my wrist, scowling. I twisted it too hard in my panic to escape.

I saw the corner of his lips twitch upward.  “Come on, we’ll get out of here.” He was watching me, but not reaching out. “You can tell me what happened.”

I glanced back. There was no sign of Isaac nor his posse. I let out a huff, staying put. “I’ll talk to Nono. Thanks though.” I crossed my arms and glared.

"Okay." He pulled a tablet computer from his jacket and it lit up his face in the dark. Besides his odd golden eyes, he had delicate features, full lips and pale skin. “Hey, I found her.” He spoke, not to me but to someone on the screen. He started to walk away.

“Is she alright?” It was Nono’s voice, I hurried to catch up but he answered for me.

“Shaken up, but okay. From the sounds of it, someone has already talked to her.”

“Seriously?” She groaned. “Where was she?”

“She was leaving the tent. You didn’t see her go in?” He asked, turning to walk away.

It was a video call so she spotted me behind him to ask me herself. “Where were you?” 

The guy handed me the device. “I was at the party but… Yeah you probably didn’t see me.”

“Sorry, I’m tied up with student activities and won’t be able to meet you for a bit. I’ll try to get free. You can let me know what happened...”

“Hey,” I said before she could finish, “Before you go I need to ask you. Why is it so important that I’m hanging around you and Caesar? Why was my DNA tested? What’s going on?”

The other guy met my gaze in mild surprise. He turned and walked out of earshot.

Nono pressed her lips together. I chewed my lip, hoping she wouldn't get upset. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. When I said you had a special heritage, I meant it. It’s special and it’s ancient.” She answered.

I mustered my courage. “I deserve to know the truth okay? Don’t hide things from me, alright?” 

She stared a little longer at me, eyes narrowed. “Alright. I won’t. This is not how I wanted to have this conversation but if you insist...” She was giving me a way out. 

I didn’t take it. “I do.”

“Your DNA is not entirely human.” She said watching my expression. “You're a hybrid between humans and ancient dragons. That makes you very special. That’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t understand…” I say in a weak voice, unable to accept what I was hearing. “... dragons aren’t real.”

“You wanted the truth. I gave it to you. Right now, I don’t have time to argue. Put Johann back on.” She said flatly.

I made my way to where the person with the golden eyes waited. I handed the device back to him. He then switched the call to audio only. He stepped away from me again. They both lowered their voices. He was responding in short sentences to whatever Nono was saying. He hung up and returned to me. “Let’s have a walk. Nono will meet us later.”

 The winter wind blew the cold air through my jacket. I shoved my hands inside the pockets, balling my fists to protect my fingertips.

We walked in silence until the music faded to a distant thump of bass. We made our way through empty pools of lamp light on winding college paths. My stomach roiled and my heart raced in the vice grip of anxiety that held me off and on since I arrived. I stared at the back of the guy in front of me. “So … you and Nono are friends?”

“Yeah.” His voice was quieter now that we were away from the noise of the tent.

“On the same team?” I asked, remembering Isaac’s words to me.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re one of the top students.”

He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t confirm or deny it.

The ache in my stomach made me realize I was getting very hungry. I hadn’t had a bite since my arrival.

“Hey, is there somewhere I can get something to eat?” 

He stopped walking. “Vending Machine.” He pointed over to a couple of machines under lights by the restroom. I fished my wallet from my duffle. His tablet buzzed a notification.  He stayed behind to wait for me. 

The machines offered hot food and drink. I blew in my hand to warm them and counted out the coins. The machine dispensed hot water into a styrofoam cup and then a teabag I could use. From the other machine I chose popcorn. I returned in a far better mood, trying not to scarf down my food and reveal how hungry I actually was.

He was still on his device when I joined him next to the bench. Whoever was texting him kept him busy. He was so quick to recognize me as the new girl. Nono must have told him I was coming. He may have been looking for me before I ran into him. 

“Isaac said that I would probably be working with you and Nono.” I said.

“That person you were with?” He asked me. He returned his tablet to the inside of his coat. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“No…” I averted my eyes. “I thought he was just going to show me to the party and I would meet with Nono.”

“Hmm.” He crossed his arms. “Nono stays busy this time of year. It can be hard for her to keep in touch. I suppose she expected you to stay in your room until she came for you.”

“Yeah. Sorry…”

He viewed my contrite expression with confusion. “Why? You didn’t wait for her. You found your own way there. That shows initiative.”

I expected him to tell me how stupid I was to wander off with people I didn’t know. That I should have waited on Nono. “Thanks. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“My name is Johann Chu. I’m the president of the Lionheart Club. We’re the oldest club here at Cassell. Our fields are hacking, engineering, genetics and martial arts. If you’re interested in joining, I’d be happy to help you sign up.”

“Uhhh…” Once again, not what I expected. “Got any room for a dancer?” I asked.

His enthusiasm faded. “Ah. The White Skirt Dance club is part of Caesar’s group. You can talk to him about that.”

“I’ll think about it.” I hurried to backtrack. “I’m just not experienced in things like hacking… I did change a hard drive on a computer once.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Your choice. I’d appreciate you as a friend… or a rival.”

“What do you mean rival?”

“Caesar and I run competing clubs.”  He explained. 

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

“If I’m part dragon… why don't I have scales?”

He didn’t laugh, taking my question seriously. “What’s expressed differs person to person. Whether or not you have your father’s eyes or your mother’s hair color is a function of what genes are expressed. You don’t have a gene that expresses scales.”

I knew how genes worked. "Okay well, answer this one…"

He nodded for me to continue. His manner was pleasant, like he was enjoying this.

“If dragons are real...Why are there no pictures or, why hasn’t anyone seen any?”

“Because of Cassell. Dragons have been dormant for thousands of years. The world has changed. Dragons would only harm humans if they came back. Here we keep tabs on draconic activity around the world. If we see it, we investigate and make sure that nothing ever comes of it. We also do a lot of… preventive work.”

"So you're like, M-i-B." He looked puzzled. "The movie. Will Smith?"

"I haven't seen that one."

"It's where there are aliens, living among people and a secret organization keeps it all under wraps."

He considered my explanation. "...Yes. A bit like that."

My voice lowered to a whisper. “So. Have you seen a dragon?”

He nodded again.

Curiosity peaked, I asked. “Can I see one?”

“If you want to see one yourself, there are a few specimens we keep on ice for study in the Alchemy department.”

“Really?” I grinned.  “You’re not kidding?”

“No, I’m not kidding ” His mouth quirked upward and he glanced away from me. “Tomorrow, once you have completed your E3 exam. If you can pass, then you’ll be officially assigned. Then, I can take you there.”

“Is the exam hard?”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you about it. But… I have a feeling you’ll do fine.”

“Why?”  When he didn’t answer right away, I pleaded. “Come on! Tell me!”

He continued his inward debate. “I don’t think I should yet. I may have said too much already.”

“Oh, come on…” I had to get this out of him. I looked back to the basketball court. “Okay, if I beat you 3 out of 5 on free throws, you have to tell me why I will do well on the test.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re on.”

The sound of an engine approached. A red sports car was racing up the pedestrian pathway with Nono at the wheel. I sighed. “Aw man…”

She rolled down the window.  “Sorry, I came as fast as I could.” She said, sounding a little breathless.

“Sorry you rushed. You could have stayed where you were.” Johann said.

Nono looked at him in confusion, “I’m sorry. What?”

When he didn’t answer for a beat, I flashed a mischievous smile. “Yeah, me and Air Jordan were about to play.”

Johann looked completely uninterested, despite his agreement earlier. 

“Well, that’s… great.” Nono glanced between us, eyes narrowed. “Come on in then I’m freezing and I haven’t been standing outside for ages.”

When I hopped into the warm front seat, I sighed with relief at the cold finally leaving me.

I glanced up to the rear view mirror to see Johann get into the back. He was back on his device again. I settled my chin on my hand, determined to pass the test, win the game and make him answer all my questions.

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Back to the beginning

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Three Lobed Recordings

For 20 years, Three Lobed Recordings has explored the outer reaches of psychedelic music, presenting Bardo Pond’s heaviest, most improvisatory albums, documenting the American primitive revival via recordings of Jack Rose and Daniel Bachman, listening to emanations from space-age folk troubadours like Wooden Wand, Sunburned Hand of the Man and Matt Valentine and generally pursuing the beauty of experiment, wherever it occurs. To celebrate these past two fruitful decades, label founder Cory Rayborn lists ten of the albums that define Three Lobed (and, necessarily, leaves out others equally valid and interesting). We look forward to lots more in the decades to come.

Personal Choice Cuts from the TLR Catalog (in no particular order, 9 of which might be different if you were to ask me tomorrow).

Gunn-Truscinski Duo — Ocean Parkway (2012)

Ocean Parkway by Gunn-Truscinski Duo

Every time I listen to this album, especially the title track, I feel transported. Long ago my college roommate Jon Nall articulated a test for transcendent songs, for the ones that impact you no matter how many times you hear them. He summed those all-time tracks up as the ones where the hairs on your arms uncontrollably stand up every time you hear them. While every track on this album does it for me every time, throwing me into a sort of uncontrollable head nod and body sway, I am always fully taken away by the entirety of the title track and Steve's swirling guitar build over the entire eighth minute punctuated by the ecstatic tones he hits at 9:06. Yow. The feeling I get from this album is why the label exists.

Various Artists — Eight Trails, One Path (2012)

Eight Trails, One Path by Various Artists

Record Store Day is tough. I love the attention and cash it puts into the hands of independent retailers but hate how commodified it has become over time by the powers that be / majors who see it as an excuse to pump out a bunch of junk that will end up being shelf warmers and ankle weights on those same retailers they claims to be supporting. The first few years when most of the titles were truly from and by indies it was a lot of fun. That was the feeling that led to wanting to put out an RSD title in mid-2011 (an illness I’ve since overcome). Originally conceived as a joined pair of split 7"s, it morphed into a triple 7" and then to a full length album. I wanted to showcase different approaches to solo guitar work and set out to ask a lot of my favorites. I also wanted to put together a special package which was fleshed out with help by Casey Burns on graphics, Grayson Haver Currin on words and Jeff Mueller on printing. I’m still amazed at the interlocked nature of all of the contributions to this one, from Six Organs’ spiritual sibling to “Ascent” in the form of “Stranded on Io” (a track that is a wordless tale all within itself) to the circular beauty of David Daniell’s “Housewarming” and everything else on here. I really love this record.

Tom Carter — Long Time Underground (2015)

Long Time Underground by Tom Carter

Late in 2013 I was chatting with Tom about what shape a record should take. He wanted to go to Black Dirt and get a good, clean capture of what he had been working on with Jason Meagher. TLR is always onboard with a Black Dirt election. Fast forward several months and family TLR was visiting some friends in Vermont around the same time Tom was in the area. We met up and he handed off the masters for a double LP. While we knew that the mix of Tom’s playing, Tom’s writing and Jason’s engineering was going to be magical but we had no idea of the exact form or how insanely potent the album was going to be. Damn. Seriously, just listen to this stuff and absorb that these are all single takes, no overdubs. Haunting and celebratory all at once.

Daniel Bachman — The Morning Star (2018)

The Morning Star by Daniel Bachman

It is pretty fun to watch the arc and path that Daniel’s writing, recording and performing have taken over the last 15 years. From powerhouse steamroller to the intersection of musique concrète and acoustic drone, his current location could maybe have been seen in his early recordings but you likely would have lost most of those dice rolls. The Morning Star speaks to me in so many ways but the stunning bookends of “Invocation” and “New Moon” always hit like a ton of bricks. What is amazing is how Daniel can turn these album cuts into live performances. I saw “New Moon” several times while Daniel was in the process of touring this 2016 self-titled album, always transfixed by it live — the album version loses none of that potency. On the other hand, Daniel re-created “Invocation” at the 2018 Three Lobed / WXDU Annual Ritual of Summoning to stunning effect.

The Michael Flower Band — self-titled (2008)

The Michael Flower Band by The Michael Flower Band

An audio / aural bomb blast, a kosmik rearrangement of the space/time directly around the listener. This take no prisoners statement from Mick Flower (guitar) and John Moloney (drums) is a deep slice for catalog enthusiasts. Just tune into “Balinese Falsehood” and try to not get fully lost. Years ago I described this as “biker psych for the third eye rider” and I’ll stand by that statement fully today.

Wooden Wand and the World War IV — self-titled (2013)

Wooden Wand & the World War IV by Wooden Wand & the World War IV

Picking between Wooden Wand titles is hard for this particular enthusiast but if forced I think I have to push the needle towards the intense Crazy Horse vibes of this studio corker. Surrounded by the “Briarwood” band, perhaps the most telepathic folks with whom Toth has ever played, the results are electric and transfixing. Will I kick myself tomorrow for not picking Clipper Ship? TBD...

Meg Baird & Mary Lattimore — Ghost Forests (2018)

Ghost Forests by Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore

I don’t remember when it came to me, the fact that there wasn’t a deliberately ground-up collaboration between Meg and Mary in existence. I had to ask them if that was purposeful or a gap that was truly something that we should remedy, a question where I had my fingers crossed the entire time. They were both really into the concept, it just took the triangulation of busy satellites to make all of our desires into reality. The results are as sturdy, sheltering and invisible at the edges as the album's title, facts that we are all the better for each time we wrap ourselves in this particular fabric. An all-timer.

Jack Rose — The Black Dirt Sessions (2009)

The Black Dirt Sessions by Jack Rose

I had the good luck and fortune to get to know Jack back in the Pelt days and watch his transition from that ensemble into the singular player and performer that he was for the last eight years of his too short life. Watching a Jack set was always a tiny miracle. I remember him calling me one day, telling me that he had gone to record with Jason Meagher and he had a record that he would really love for me to put out if I was interested. Not only was I most most certainly interested, but I was amazingly humbled and flattered that this friend who I also considered a modern master had recorded something specifically for me without even discussing it with me first. That level of trust was the gift and magic of Jack. If he believed in you that belief gave you all of the power you needed to make anything reality, you were suddenly bulletproof. Every track here is a stunner but “Cross the North Fork” always pulls me in, dares me to turn my attention anywhere else. Rest in power, friend.

Chuck Johnson — Crows In The Basilica (2013)

Crows In The Basilica by Chuck Johnson

Every track on this perfectly constructed and sequenced album is flawlessly beautiful but “On A Slow Passing In Ghost Town” is one of the top 10 tracks in the entire TLR catalog in my estimation. Exactingly and properly composed, performed and recorded.

Bardo Pond — Peri (2009)

Peri by Bardo Pond

The love of Bardo Pond was the seed that initially drove me to create a record label. Their single-minded determination to seek audio truth was apparent to me ages ago and so very inspirational. I ate up everything — the releases, the live shows, the live recording — and I hung on every note. The band had a lot of really, really great tunes that they had been working on between 2001 and 2003, the period between their departing Matador for ATP Records. I could never shake the power of several of the tracks from this era that sort of got abandoned to the shifts of time. After several conversations with Michael Gibbons two albums were born from that period and from some other exceptionally potent tracks. Batholith was the first of these two albums and Peri, the second. Both are so very special to me, the fruit of knowing folks needed to hear these compositions. When writing here I have to pick Peri today as it closes with “Silver Pavilion,” an all-time Bardo Pond thesis statement of sorts.

[readbeneaththelines]

Just The Person I Need Pt. 7

Kwon JiYong is a Multi Million Dollar business man thrown into parenthood when his brother and sister-in-law die in an accident. leaving A son and daughter behind. Y/N is a nanny that loves what she does. What happens when their lives become intertwined? Will she be Just The Person He Needs?

Characters: Business Man!Kwon JiYong X Nanyy!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut somewhere along the way

Word Count: 3052

Warnings: Angst, Injury to character, SMUT, oral (F receiving) unprotected sex, (wrap it up loves) 

cr to gif owner

You closed your eyes tight in protest of the bright morning sunlight streaming through the window. Reaching for your phone, you squinted while trying to look  at the time. It was already ten o’clock, they had let you sleep in. You were really going to miss their kind nature. Sitting up, you stretched and stood up slowly. Today’s agenda was going to talk to the Kim’s first. You weren’t sure what to expect so you were a tad apprehensive. Taking a hot shower, you ran over the speech in her head. You had planned on telling them you would be willing to work their part of the last two weeks, but honestly, was hoping they would let you take early leave. With Soon-yoo taking your place, maybe you could start earlier than planned. You made a mental note to call her before talking to Mr. and Mrs. Kim. Wrapping a towel around your damp hair, you got dressed. Business casual is what you opted for when meeting with the Kim family. You dialed Soon-yoo’s number as you walked to the car. She was more than happy to start early, excited to start a real job and start saving for her schooling. You told her you were thankful for being available on such short notice. 

You soon arrived at the Kim’s apartment, body shaky as you rode the elevator to the top floor. Hesitating briefly, you gently knocked. Mr. Kim answered, a surprised look on his face when he saw you standing in his doorway. 

“Y/N, what brings you here today? We weren’t expecting you this weekend. I was just talking to Mr. Kwon. He wanted to let me know that he was planning on offering you a full time position. I was just hanging up when you knocked.”

 A little taken aback, you definitely hadn’t planned on him calling your employers on your behalf.

“I am sorry Mr. Kim, that is why I am here. I was coming to let you know that I will be taking the position with Mr. Kwon. If you need me to, I can work my last two weeks, but I wanted to let you know Soon-yoo is available immediately. I am willing to do whatever you choose.” You felt bad, breaking this to two families in as many days. 

“Please, do not feel sorrowful. You need to do what your heart tells you. If you feel led to help him, then we cannot hold you back. Soon-yoo will work fine for us, she had been a help many times and she will fit right in. Please take this time and rest. We will pay you through the last two weeks so you may have some money available to prepare for your next journey. We will miss you but wish you the very best.”

Mr. Kim was always a very proper and wise man. Not one to show much outward affection, so you were caught off guard as he hugged you gently and quickly. It was over before you had time to react and hug back. He went to the kitchen to write a check while you packed up the few things from your room. There was less here than at the Choi’s, so you were finished quickly. Thanking him again, you walked out for a final time. You told him you would visit Mrs. Kim and the baby before starting the new position.

Stepping into the warm sunlight, you let  tears fall freely. You really were going to miss all of them. They had been a part of your everyday life, a family of sorts. You didn’t know what the future held in working with Mr. Kwon, but  hoped that they would become a family to you too. Loading your bags into the trunk with the other one, you set off to find a room for the next two weeks. You settled on the one you had been at just a few nights ago. Paying the little old woman at the desk, you took your stuff to the room. It was open and airy, windows pushed open to let sun and warm air flow in. You tried calling Ha-eun, but her line was busy. They must still be visiting Jeju Island, you thought to yourself. You had so much to tell her when she got back. You needed to talk to someone, yet had no one. You had no family and very few friends, as you hadn’t had time to make new ones. You were alone, and at this moment, you felt very alone.

JiYong set the staff to work, clearing out the largest guest room for you. It would be situated halfway between the children’s room and his. He could feel his heart racing, a bit of anxiety creeping in. He wanted to make you felt at home, comfortable, and happy. Mi-sun and Se-jun would be back tomorrow after lunch. He spoke to each of them regarding your coming to help him care for them. They seemed interested, but unsure if you would like them.

“Why wouldn’t she like you? She is going to love you both. No one can resist the cuteness that is Mi-sun and Se-jun! I know you will each make her feel welcomed. Just be yourselves and everything will be okay.” he kept his tone light and cheery, not wanting to say anything that would make them have any doubt. He already liked you and he knew they would warm up to you rather quickly.

He was sitting at his desk, staring at the laptop’s screen, when you called.

“Hello, Mr. Kwon? Are you busy by chance?” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hello, Miss Y/N. No, I am not busy at the moment, What can I do for you?”

“Well you told me to let you know when I wanted to pick out the furniture. I was wondering if you could meet me to go shopping.” her words came out hesitantly, the nervousness audible.

“I would be happy to meet you. Do I need to pick you up, or shall I meet you there?” did he sound excited? He had to admit he was happy to hear from her.

“I can meet you, where would you like to start?”

“Do you know where Roche Bobois is? How about you meet me there in an hour?”

“Are you sure? That place is very expensive! I would be content with something from IKEA.” 

He was willing to spend that much on a bedroom suit? He must have tons if he thought of that place first. 

Your head swam with the thought of just how rich he could be if that was his first choice. You realized you didn’t know very much about Kwon JiYong. She was hoping that today would shed some light on him and what he did.

“I am not going to buy something that we have to put together, besides I have bought many things from Roche. So, I will see you there in one hour. Drive carefully Miss.” He hung up, heart still racing but not as anxious. You really had no idea who he really was and the type of power and money he had at his command. He ate a quick meal then showered. The warm water calmed his heart, giving him a chance to think about what he would show you and if you might need anything else. He remembered you stating that you didn’t have many clothes or essentials. He had to think of way to have you agree to buying some things for yourself. With a smile on his face, he climbed into the Bentley Continental, the leather seat heated from the sun. Starting the engine, it purred to life. He set the audio to play his playlist, the first song was Toreador Song from the opera Carmen.  He sped effortlessly through the traffic, making it to Roche with a few minutes to spare. He parked in his CEO spot, taking the delivery elevator to the lobby floor. He had to make sure you didn’t know that he owned Roche, at least not yet. Walking through the store, staff greeted him with bowing and many welcomes. He told them to not pay attention to him, as he would be shopping with a guest today. You were not to be made aware of his ownership. Everyone agreed, returning to their respective departments. 

He stepped out front, sitting at the bench as he awaited your arrival. You walked up wearing a light yellow sundress that waved in the light breeze. He stood as you approached, your smile contagious, and he returned it.

“Shall we, Miss Y/N?” his arm extended for you to lead the way.

“Please Mr. Kwon, call me Y/N or Y/N/N. Having you being so formal is a bit unsettling. You may be my employer, but you may drop the formalities.”

“Okay, Y/N, only if you agree to drop the Mr. Kwon and just call me JiYong or Ji. Is that a deal?” his grin grew to reach his ears.

“That would be fine JiYong. There, now I am feeling more welcomed already. So, shall we? Are you sure we can’t just go to IKEA?” a nervous giggle passed your lips.

“We will start here. I can help you pick something that suits you. You will be sleeping in the bed and staying in that room, so I want you to feel at home in something you like. Now follow me.”

As the both of you walked around the showroom, your mouth stayed agape as you looked at the finely detailed furniture. Beds inlaid with gold filigree, dressers with Mother-of-Pearl in the handles, and lamps made of pure crystal. You were boggled that he was willing to spend so much on a bedroom set. JiYong watched you, slight amused at your reactions. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but to just enjoy the experience.

“What style do you like in furniture? Any particular colors you like better than others? I can’t read your mind, so you need to help me out here.” Taking your hand, he turned you to look him in the eyes.

“I understand. As far as style, I have no idea. My bed sets have always been used or already in the rooms. I prefer Y/F/C but I also like Y/S/F/C. I guess I don’t really like girly-girl frilly, maybe more classic lines than curvy.”

“So you prefer traditional style to classic? Okay, that helps. You have never owned new furniture before? Well then I hope you enjoy this shopping spree. Let’s get started, over this way.” He grabbed your hand and led you towards the middle of the showroom. Rows and rows of beds set before you. The wood shined bright under the lights, nearly blinding you at times. You looked at every bed,  hands running over the smooth detailed lines of the frame. When you turned around, the bed you wanted caught your eye. It was painted an antique white with your two favorite colors painted into the four posters. The canopy laid gently across the lattice work above the bed. Woven between the lattice work was ivy detailing carved from wood. The footboard had a built in dressing bench of solid wood, the carved ivy design wrapping around the edges. Entranced by its beautiful artwork, you walked to it, JiYong following close behind. You ran your fingers over the detailed carvings, dancing gingerly across wooden ivy leaves. He watched in awe, like a child seeing a toy for the first time. As a sale associate approached, he told her that he would take that bed, and have it delivered to his place later that day.

“You can get it that easily?” You were surprised that he didn’t even pay attention to the price tag. Taking a peak, you swayed slightly at seeing the price tag. It cost more than your used car. Ji-yong reached out in time to catch you, keeping you steady.  

“How do you do that? I can’t even buy groceries without having to look at the cost. How can you just get it without looking?” you had a mixture of confusion and awe in your eyes.

“Y/N, just trust me when I say I don’t need to look at price tags. I’m not bragging, I just have no need to pay attention to that sort of thing usually.”

Nodding absently, you toyed with the belt around your waist. It took a few minutes to accept his statement and continue shopping. You settled on a small matching dresser and nightstand. Pleased with what you chose, he walked you outside. The sun was high, the warmth surrounding both of you. You turned your head upwards, letting the heat soak in.

“Are you hungry?”

“I am a little bit, but I can eat at the hostel later.” you had no idea what his plans were for the day and didn’t want to keep him from anything important.

“Why don’t we grab a quick bite, then go the the mall? I would like to supply your space with some things and I need you to pick them out.”

“JiYong, I don’t want to take up your time. We can do this another day if you have things to do.”

“I have no other plans today, so you are fine. Besides, I actually like shopping. Now, what would you like for lunch?” 

After a few moments of deliberating, the two of you settled on Jungsik Dang, an upscale restaurant. You tried to argue, saying it was to expensive, but he told you it was his treat. You were seated immediately, a small table by the window overlooking Seoul. You glanced over the menu, settling on Branzino and a glass of white wine. After ordering, the waiter brought a bottle of white wine for JiYong to taste. Pouring two glasses, you were quickly left alone.

“So, do you mind me asking, what happened to your wrist?” you asked, hoping it wouldn’t upset him.

“Oh, this? It was me being stupid and not paying attention. That’s what I get for not getting good sleep, I guess.” a hint of a smile played across his lips.

Not wanting to press things any further, you nodded. Maybe he really was just exhausted and needed help in order to maintain his own sanity, and stability. You laughed to yourself as you imagined him walking around like a zombie and bumping into things. JiYong cocked his head, amusement and curiosity evident in his facial expression.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, curiosity in his tone.

“Oh, sorry, nothing. I just pictured you stumbling around from lack of sleep.” your cheeks once again blushing from letting him know your thoughts.

Lunch was shared over small talk about why you had decided to be a nanny instead of pursuing your chosen field of study. You talked about the kids and what their plans were after the summer was over. JiYong discussed what your role would be and what would be expected of you on a daily basis. He promised that you would have plenty of down time each week for yourself.

After lunch, they drove to the mall in comfortable silence. You wondered how you could feel so comfortable and at ease with someone you barely knew. He had an air about him that spoke of security and confidence. Before realizing it, you were parking and heading into the central hub of the mall. He told you were most of the stores were, letting you lead the way.

You walked through aisles of beautiful clothing, items with price tags you could not think of affording, ever. He watched as you would pick something up, hold it against your body, then put it back. He imagined the thoughts you were having, knowing your small savings was all you had to your name. When you would walk away, he would motion to a salesperson, have them take the item, and place it at the register. He would then rush to catch up with you and do the same thing over and over. As you would leave each store, he would find an excuse to step away and return to purchase the items to be delivered to his estate. 

You did agree to purchase a few necessity items to have handy for your first days. By the time you had finished shopping, you had purchased a few new outfits and toiletry items. The both of you headed to his car, both showing signs of being tired. Yawning, you slid into the passenger seat, your head leaning back to rest on the headrest. After the short drive, they pulled up beside your car. You turned towards him before opening the door.

“Thank you so much for today. I had a lot of fun shopping. I hope I haven’t been too much trouble for you.”

“You haven’t been. I really did enjoy my time with you today. It actually was very relaxing.”

You set up a time for meeting the children tomorrow, at his estate. Once you were out of the car, you leaned down to talk to him through the window.

 “Thank you again for a great time today. See you all tomorrow.” With that you walked to your car, JiYong watching to ensure you got in safely.

You spent the rest of the evening packing the things you had purchased. Looking at all you owned, you were saddened to realize you did not have very many possessions to your name. Beside the few items you had bought, all your belonging fit into a single large suitcase with some room still left over. After putting everything aside, you grabbed a book and sat down by the open window and began reading. Several hours later you woke up, book against your chest, and the moon hanging high in the night sky. Looking at the clock, you noticed it was already one a.m. Stretching your arms, you walked slowly to the pallet bed and crawled under the sheets. Rechecking the alarm, you pulled the covers up and fell fast asleep. Your dreams were filled with smiling brown and honey colored eyes and a tall lean-framed man standing beside you.

@beautifulseoulliar @lynnbyun @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself  @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

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[youllallriseintheink]

Breaking the Time Loop chapter 4: Sacrifice

Alice put the journal down. She looked the way Henry probably had after reading the first three pages. "Wow," she breathed. After taking a while to collect her thoughts, she finally came up with a response. "So, you want to save the souled creatures. And you came here because Tom and I are good companions? Is that it?"

"Well, no. You see, to save them, I've enlisted in some...unconventional help."

"Oh?"

"I need to reconnect the souls to the bodies to bring them back to life. In other words, I need to perform necromancy. And the only creature that can do that is a demon."

"You're going to try and tame him!?"

"Actually, I already did." Alice stared at Tom in disbelief, but Henry carried on. "And he told me that only an angel could purify a soul. So, unless I want to lead out a group of crazies and check them right in to a madhouse... well, I thought it would be best to come to you. Can you help?"

"Well, I can try. Have you captured any souls yet?"

"We've captured one, and I could take Susie's whenever I want. Do you promise not to be alarmed if I call Bendy in here?"

"Go ahead."

Henry looked around the base. There were no posters. He excused himself into the hallway to call the demon, and came back with him. Tom's mouth fell open, as though he were thinking, I thought you were pulling our legs. Alice, on the other hand, seemed calm. Bendy brought his hand to his mouth, apparently pulled the soul out, and offered it to Alice. Alice observed the invisible object as though she were a mechanic staring at a broken engine, squinting at it and seeming to grow more and more dispirited. Finally, she put it on the table and looked down.

"Is this even a human soul?" Alice asked, almost in disbelief.

"It once belonged to a man named Norman Polk. He became creature you call the projectionist."

"Oh, that explains it. I can't fix this. I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"It's just too damaged. It's not even sapient anymore."

"Well, can't you at least try?" Henry asked. From behind him, inky tendrils were spreading around Bendy.

"No. Imagine imagine a soul like a page in a book. Undoing damage is like taking a few scrambled words and putting them back to normal. You can mostly tell by context what the word is meant to be. But this-" Alice paused to look up at the alarming spreading tendrils.

"Bendy, can you stop?" Henry asked, keeping the annoyance out of his voice. Bendy shook his head. He was rapt, leaning forwards. Not knowing what else to do, Henry turned back to Alice. "Go on, Alice."

"This is like a page with almost every word scrambled. I wouldn't be bringing this person back. I'd be making a new one from whole cloth. And even then, it would take me days. This is a dead man, Henry." Alice's voice grew tenser as she continued, and it was not hard to see why.

The room was an inky abyss by now, its features barely visible. words were appearing on the walls, but Henry couldn't read them for how dark the walls had become. The ink demon was peering over Henry's shoulder like a predator looking through the brush. In a quick movement, he snatched the journal out of Tom's hands. Henry's breath grew ragged. His progress- his everything! It was in the hands of that monster.

"Bendy...I can't save you without that! Please-"

Bendy opened the book to its last page- a blank one, Henry knew, and pointed to it to put words on it. Henry could see that the beast was breathing heavily as well. He turned the book. It read, in letters big enough to fill the page and drip off the sides of it, GIVE ME THE SOUL.

"That is a good idea," Alice said. There was tension in her voice, but she seemed genuine.

Henry did not agree. But one loop for the safety of his journal was a small price to pay. "Yes. You can have the soul," he said. Immediately the inky tendrils contracted somewhat, leaving visible words spanning the walls in messages such as I MUST HAVE IT, THE SOUL IS MINE, THE JOURNAL IS LEVERAGE, and most frightening of all, IT WILL CHANGE ME. Bendy drew back the ink from the journal and the walls and handed the book back to Henry, who drew it into him like a child might a cling to a blanket.

"I should void the soul first," Alice suggested, "Erase the words, make it a blank slate. I can do it while we head down to the machine."

"Go down to the machine?"

"It's needed to transfer souls," she explained.

"Alright."

Henry knew then that it was the end of this loop. He'd speculated that Bendy was using souls to turn into his monstrous final form, but now, with that message on the wall, it was sure.

The five made their way down. Tom took up the rear, staying on the lookout for any dangers that might be following. Alice was next, too preoccupied with the soul to be alert to danger. Then Boris. Henry followed the ink demon, who was taking them along at a quick pace that forced Henry to run to keep up. Bendy's excitement was obvious. Words sprayed on the walls only to immediately drip off. Most of the words went by too quickly for Henry to read, but he could see what an elated, messy scrawl they were, and he could catch a few words: "transform," "anew," "finally," and for some Godforsaken reason, "love." In his rampage, butcher gang members and lost ones dissolved the moment they grew near his inky aura. Thankfully, Alice, Boris, and Tom stayed far enough away to be unaffected.

Finally making it to the pit before the administration office, Bendy immediately jumped down, leaving the others in the dust. Henry, exhausted from all the running, stopped to catch his breath. "Alice..." he said as soon as he had the air to, "you have rope, right? We need to keep up with him."

"Indeed I do," she answered. Henry used the rope to climb down the pit, and tied it on hook well into dry land so that none of the ink creatures would have to risk touching the corruptive substance. By the time all four were down, however, the ink demon was nowhere to be seen. Henry noticed a poster on the wall, with a few excited but already fading phrases written around it. "Oh, no. We're too late." With his luck, that creature had already swallowed the end tape by now.

"It's alright," Alice said, "It's not like he can actually do anything without the soul, anyhow."

"Yeah, the transforming part isn't what I'm afraid of," Henry replied.

"Well, we'll only be later if we waste time feeling sorry for ourselves. Let's go."

The group was able to make quick work of the audio vault, killing the butcher gang with their axes and machete and only needing one trip to collect the thick ink required to repair the drainage system. Henry took a deep breath as the group finally approached that impassable river of ink.

"I suppose that this is where you have to leave me?" Henry asked, though it wasn't really a question.

"Sorry, but yes. We'd dissolve in that ink in a second. Here, take this," Alice handed Henry the soul. Though he couldn't see it, he cupped his hands around it as though it was everything to him. "Give it to the demon. I have a feeling that this won't end as badly as you think it will."

"Very well," Henry said, "And thanks for everything." He knew then that he'd be facing the end of this time loop as he did all the others: alone. He stepped into the inky river, stopping to look back at the trio. Instead, he saw Boris dashing in behind him, wielding Tom's ax. He scampered to the other side as quickly as the viscous ink would allow, pulled himself onto the other side, and shook off. Black drips hung down into the white parts of his character design as a result of ink damage, and his form seemed a good bit less solid than usual,but he was otherwise unharmed. Henry smiled, touched at his friend's loyalty. He got up onto the other side of the river and helped his companion to his feet. "Thanks, buddy," Henry cooed. He didn't remember, but it seemed from the journal that he always loved loops where Boris stayed alive and with him.

Together, they entered the demon's throne room. Everything, from the projections on the walls to the chains on the throne, was intact. There weren't even any extra messages on the walls. For a moment, Henry got his hopes up. Holding onto that dash of optimism, he opened the film case.

It was empty. Henry's pace quickened. He fell to his knees.

"Boris, I'm trapped," Henry said in a hopeless monotone. "I can't get out of here without that. I'm going to rot. I'm going to be a lost one. I'm never going to see Linda again. Oh my-" At the beginning of Henry's breakdown, Boris had been attempting to comfort Henry. Then, something else caught his eye, and he'd drifted towards it. Now, he was trying to get Henry's attention. "Hmm?"

Boris pointed to a room adjacent the throne room. Within it, Bendy was sitting down cross-legged inside one of four glass tubes. The duo entered. Small, polite letters appeared on the glass tube: Please give me the soul. Not knowing what else to do, Henry pressed his palm against the glass, opening the hand that held the soul. Bendy reached out to grab it, as though he were grabbing a fly. Then, the tube flooded with high-pressure black ink. The transformation had begun.

---

Yeah, I wrote this story months ago, back when the audio log characters were afterthoughts at best for me. I’m sorry, Norman... sorry I threw you under a bus for plot convenience.

[neshabeingchildish]

10. Swellview Stats

So, I decided to do a little more Charlotte’s inner thoughts in this chapter. I know I did a touch here and there last chapter, but more in this one. It’s in Italics. Edit: You may have missed Ch. 9, because its an audio post instead of a text post. So, you’ll have to read that one before this one. It don’t look like the other ones.

Swellview Stats

Swellview might as well be a Utopia for simple minded individuals and intellects who gave up being competitive in the wide world. We have some of the safest neighborhoods, because of a couple of reasons. One of them is the Man Team. The other is the fact that our villains are stupid. Honestly, our townsfolk are stupid, too. There's probably a handful of brain cells in Swellview that get lent around for convenience, and a select few absolute geniuses who just got stuck here because they were born here and staying was too easy. I can't be one of those geniuses. The last time there was a murder in Swellview was like 35 years ago and it was accidental. There are often injuries as a result of chaotic driving or Captain Man goofing up a rescue, but statically, Swellview is a safe and comfortable place. Do I love safety? Yes. Do I love comfort? More than anyone I know! Can I settle for being the best in my field when my counterparts would never even rank in the country? Why would I? 

I'm Charlotte Page. I aspire to be Dr. Charlotte Page, a Renaissance woman who specializes in every letter of STEAM, focusing on biomedical engineering… she looked at her boyfriend, shoving oversized eggs into his mouth while the rest of the guys counted, "8,9.." she got up, shaking her head and left the table.

She already had a dozen acceptance letters for colleges, was already taking some courses and had finished a couple of programs via Swellview University while she was in school. She had all of her graduation credits last year. She was going to graduate early, but decided to just get additional high school transcripts dings, and start college low-key, to transition a little better afterwards. 

Besides, her work in the Man Cave was excellent practice for the work that she would be doing in her near future. She was thinking by 21, she'd have her first degree and probably be able to design electrical circuits, software to run medical equipment, or computer simulations to test new drug therapies. She'd want to try out a tech position at a renowned lab, but might have to settle for something more subtle because she'd still be working on her education, too.

By 23, she should be able to finally make a move towards the lab of her choice with the previous lab work experience and her highest degree completed."Hey, Charlotte! Jasper just stuffed 12 eggs into his mouth!" Henry bragged and stuck his tongue out laughing. "Then he swallowed them whole!"

"What?" She asked turning to the table again.

"Just gulped 'em down his gullet!" Ray cheered.

"Jasper?" Charlotte fussed. "You KNOW that eating that many boiled eggs will give you painful gas!"

Jasper said to the guys at the table, "Hey. How many farts you guys think I'll make when these eggs give me gas?" They started giving out numbers.

Charlotte folded her arms and glared at him, shaking her head. Henry was grateful HE wasn't the one getting the look this time. In fact, those looks seemed to be reserved for her boyfriend these past few weeks. She definitely loved him. Henry knew she did, because why else on Earth would that match even take place. But, he also realized that she had buttons. Buttons that Jasper pushed with childlike wonder, with enthusiasm that seemed to ask, "What does this one do?" Henry offered some intervention in saying, "Charlotte, you are dating a legend. A Man Cave legend. Nobody makes stats like Jasp does in this place."

"And what are these stats good for?" She asked Henry.

Ray intercepted, "Allow me." He grabbed a remote control and pressed a button, which revealed a chart of really stupid things (like how many punches in the belly you can take), and a points system. Jasper was in the lead. She was in last place..  in a contest that she didn't even know could happen, with points mainly for dodging certain death during Ray's irresponsible tantrums or something. "Yes, stare in awe," Ray told her.

"Awe is definitely a word," she said. She sighed, shook her head and said, "I'm going up into the store, before the gas and fart counting begins…" She heard a loud noise and saw Henry's distorted face.

Ray cheered, "Too late." And she was gone. Up the tube gone. She wasn't even gonna stay at work if this is what they were doing with their time. 

Jasper was really sweet. Whenever it was the two of them, she was the only person in the world. Whenever they were with their friends, he was still sweet, but… they brought out the oaf in him. Now… as a friend of all of these people, she couldn't be too judgy. And nobody MADE her say yes to Jasper. She just wished that his best round of friends weren't.. this.

She was thinking about the upcoming college years and he was literally making a game out of his flatulence. The most frustrating thing about that was that Jasper isn't even a fart humor type person! He finds that gross and childish!! But, whenever it's the guys, he's onboard for childish shenanigans. Unless he's pretending to be more mature when he's with her. Then, that's false advertising, and she'd feel bamboozled. BUT then, if THAT was the case..  she would have to admit to being outsmarted by JASPER! Charlotte let out an aggravated squeal and frightened a lady and her dog walking by. They went to the other side of the street and she kept going, feeling awkward. 

Piper was home, so she stopped by. "Hey… I wanted to vent to someone about Jasper…"

Piper raised her palm and said, "Let me give you a little disclaimer. Whatever it is that you have to say, my perpetual thought will be, "What did you expect when you started going out with Jasper?"

"Fair enough. Can I begin?" Piper sat down and Charlotte joined her on the couch. "So.. I know that Jasper's a little bit offbeat."

"What an understatement."

"He's honestly not as stupid as people think. He's very good at listening. He is insightful when it comes to interpersonal relationships. He gives excellent pep talks and sometimes pretty good advice, if he understands all of the details. He's an honest, loyal, and caring friend and has been a very thoughtful boyfriend."

"So, this is gushing and not venting? Balls." Piper flopped back, prepared to listen to Jasper praise that she didn't ask for.

"No. That was the good stuff that I have to get out of the way before I complain to him about what I can't stand, unless I want to see him cry!"

"You.. say all of that before you get to your point? And he listens?"

"Jasper feeds off of compliments. They open him up fully and then you can slide in the complaints. Only thing is that I knew he was the guy that he is and it's not fair to expect him to change, but.. Shouldn't he want to? Wouldn't you rather do anything else in the world than count farts with your friends, when you have an awesome girlfriend who's also around?"

"I would rather do anything else if I was as lonely as an old lady in a house thought to be haunted. But, I'm not Jasper. And like you said, you knew he was an idiot from the moment he first opened his mouth. We all did. I knew he was an idiot from the moment my memory formed as a toddler and he was at our house in all his stupid glory."

"But he's not stupid! That's the problem. He's ignorant about a lot. He's naive. He doesn't always think things through. But… have you ever seen him plan something out for a date? Or heard him talk to a little kid? Jasper is definitely unique, but I think he could do anything he puts his mind to. I just wish he'd put his mind to things that matter."

"Do you ever suggest these things?"

"Yeah, but I can't control him!"

Piper laughed, "Oh, Charlotte. I keep forgetting that this is your first boyfriend. Of course you can control him. Jasper is… what's a word that you won't refute?... Impressionable. Make better impressions. Lemme see your phone."

Charlotte reluctantly handed it over and Piper read out loud as she typed, "Shame that you didn't want to hang with me today. Gonna have to pick out new undies by myself. Sad face emoji."

"What?"

"Send."

"WHAT?"

Piper held a hand up to her, then pointed to the phone to show her Jasper was typing. "I would chop off the entire bottom half of my body to be included in that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Too late. But, hope that the fart counting went well. Maybe, if you're more considerate later, I'll text you pix of my choices."

"Don't send that!"

"Send."

Charlotte snatched her phone from Piper, but Piper bent over her to see Jasper's next response, "Okay… I didn't mean to be inconsiderate? Next time, I'll check to see if you need anything from me before being stupid with the guys all day." Charlotte shook her head and said, "That's unfair to play him like that."

"Are you mad at me, Babe?" Jasper wondered.

Charlotte: No. That was Piper. I let her see my phone.

Jasper: Ok… but… did you tell her that stuff about me?

Charlotte: I said some things, but…He called. She groaned and answered, "Hey. Sorry about that…"

"Hey… if I'm doing something wrong, you can just tell me. You don't have to go to Piper."

"I came here just to vent."

"About me?"

"A little."

"Vent to me. Tell me what's wrong." She began to give out her list of compliments, but he cut her off, "Charlotte. I said tell me what's wrong. I know that you like and respect me. There's no other reason that you'd date me. What's your beef, though? What did you have to vent about?"

She sighed and laid on the couch as she talked. Piper hung around, listening to the end of the chat as she used her own cell phone. "I just feel like you would rather be doing senseless things with the guys at work than anything with me."

"I feel like I do a lot with you and that I've hardly hung out with them in the past few weeks, but I'll try to be more mindful about things. I don't want you having to vent about me."

"I… shouldn't have said anything."

"How else could I know? I'm not intuitive." She frowned. "Hey, pretty girl. Smile. Don't stress about it. You didn't say yes to a caveman. I just like to relax with my bros sometimes and that can't change. You smiling?"

"Yeah," she lied.

"No you're not. That's not your smiling voice."

Now, she was smiling, "Thought you said you weren't intuitive."

"There it is!" He cheered. "I'm not intuitive. I just really know you. Not enough to read your mind, but enough to hear that smile."

She smiled even wider and said, "You irritate me."

"Maybe. But not right now. Otherwise, you wouldn't be smiling so much." They both held the phone a while and Jasper asked in a low, soft voice, "You love me, right?"

"I've never said that," she said.

"That wasn't a no!" He said and she could swear… she could swear that she could hear him smiling. "I love you too." He hung up the phone and she nudged Piper with her foot.

"You're welcome," Piper said.

.

Swellview is not so much "Home Sweet Home" as it is, a safe place with sweet people that you could get used to. Crime rates are fairly high, but the crimes are pretty safe. The news is hilarious. You can just walk right into a friend's home and their door is probably open, and their family probably treats you like you're a part of theirs. It's a good place to meet the love of your life, even. Maybe not so much to stay there with them, though. I don't know how to ask Jasper what's going to happen when we graduate. I don't know how to even suggest that he come with me. I have no idea if he'll even want something more than Swellview. I have no idea if he thinks that I'm something more than Swellview.

[bts7writings]

My Harmony II

Part I | Part II | ???

Pairing: Reader x Chanyeol

Genre: Smut | Fluff | Humor

Words: 3K

See you tomorrow? It’s Chanyeol by the way

You reread the words, scolding yourself for feeling any sort of giddiness from it, the universe just seems to love testing your limit. You tap on his number and save it to you contact before responding.

With that proper grammar? Don't think so? Kidding - See you tomorrow.

You suck on your teeth and make a point of leaning you phone as far form you as you can to decrease any amount of distraction. If he texts back you will not answer, you chant in your head as you open your first folder of work.

This chant works just fine, until you start moving onto pile number two, when the small vibrations from your phone carry throughout your desk. Contemplating the seriousness of your work ethics, your hand inches to grab your phone; Fully expecting it to be one of your friends to nag you about how you're spending your weekend.

“Y/n?”

You pull yourself away from your phone to double check exactly who you were talking to that managed to manifest rough deep consensual intercourse into a voice. Ffffuck me

You lips your lips once over and try to keep your voice monotoned. “Why are you calling me?”

“Um…because I have your number now?” You hear him laugh slightly at your question, bringing a small smile from you.

“That doesn’t mean you can-“

“I know I just wanted to hear your voice - I thought texting was enough, but I like your sarcastic tones better.”

There’s an awkward silence after his blunt confession. It’s a known fact that idols are known to flirt with staff and other idols - they’re human too. It’s also a known fact that you can get screwed over if you carry on thinking they are just normal people you can hang around with. One day you could be on cloud nine dating Korea’s top boyband and the next thing you know you’re rocking the “I got my hair pulled by a fan and might get fired if he gets tired of me” look.

“Chanyeol…” you warn despite your accelerated heart rate.

“Y/n…” he imitates your tone and scoffs, “why aren’t you signed to the company”

Your eyes roll again unable to stop, you weren’t an idol becuase you didn’t like the public scene, but telling him that would mean you were telling something personal. “That wouldn’t fix your problem of liking me, so-”

“Is it just my problem? Don’t you want to be the problem too?”

“I-“ you get interrupted by a beep from him side, another call. “You should probably answer that”

“It’s nothing important. Finish what you were saying”

“It could be your manager - answer it”

“It’s just a call from Yi. Y/-“

And there goes your own thoughts on the mater on whether you like him or not. We’re talking about a male idol that can, will, and probably does get any girl he wants.

“Of course” you roll your eyes, typical - sarcasm levels at 100%. “Why wouldn’t a new female staff have your number?”

“No- it’s not like that”

“Call her back, I have massive piles of work and don’t have time to entertain you.” Before you can hear a cute remark from his end you shut down your phone.

“This is bad news, y/n and you know it.” You whisper to yourself resuming to your work piles.

.            .            .            .

Maybe shutting down your phone wasn't the best idea.

The next morning, well afternoon since thats around the time it should be legal to wake up, one huge grey car was parked on the path towards the buildings garbage disposal.

Having to walk all the way around it, you mentally cursed out the personing owning the car. As you barely passed the car, your eyes were halted mid roll as the horn was pressed to cause a semi heart attack.

You turn around not sure if you're pissed off enough to actually cause a scene, but the only words that would come out were, “Oh god...” as  the lowering car windows presenting none other than Park Chanyeol.

Turning your body around completely, you shift the weight of your garbage bag towards the ground “How did you even know I lived here? What-”

“I may or may not have gotten your address from my manager.” His every present smile is fresh on his face as he leans over his seat for you to hear him more clearly.

“You almost gave me a heart attack! Why-”

“I thought you weren't coming since you hung up on me last night...”

“Well you’re not wrong.” Your lips press in a thin line to stop any form of emotion from showing on your face. This kid can smell a bluff.

“Wait...right there!” He shuffles around with his seatbelt and shuts the engine off, opening his door to jog towards you.

As he closes up, you look around careful of any cameras.

“You left your window down?” You nod over, but he’s already taken your garbage bag from your hands.

“Do you live in such an unsafe neighborhood?” he jokes walking past you towards the disposal. “It’s like 5 feet away, Y/n. Wait for me in the car.”

You blink back the audacity and disbelief of this whole situation ,his movements are always carefree and relax making you wonder if he even know the danger of being outside simply because he’s Park Chanyeol.

“...And you're not in the car.” He jokes when he walks back, “You said you were going to help me with a song today, y/n”

He puts a gently hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the passenger door. His other hand reaching to open the door. “Please?”

“Chanyeol...” You grab his arm with both of your hands, maybe he’ll fall for his own trick of puppy dog eyes.

“Y/n...” he mocks, leaning over to come closer to your face, obviously the true master of getting what he wants. “I’ll buy you food.”

Your tension melts with his present smile and offer of food; You shake your head in self disappointment as you take the seat being offered.

Before you have time to reject his offer again, he shuts your door and races to take the driver seat and start the car.

“Do you usually have to stalk girls to get them back to your place or...”

“It’s usually not this complicated,” he laughs and glances over at you, “So I’m guessing you didn't get my calls?”

“Yeah, I turn it off since I don't like the distraction”

“So I'm a distraction?” He teases, stoping at a red light.

“Currently? Yes. I had a lot of work and -”

“Yi, called all of the boys last night to go over names and specifications...” and there is the awkward silence that you always try to avoid. The light changes and he makes a turn. “It’s nothing like she called me to talk about anything personal....Honestly, a lot of people say that I flirt, but -”

“Chanyeol-”

“Y/n-”

“We’re not doing this” Your tone rises a bit, as you look over to see his face become devoid of emotions, “You don't need to explain your interaction with women. You know the conditions to my contract and I’m not going to break them.”

You could hear the tinkering going on in his head, “But that was waay before we even met, how-”

“You sleep with anyone you want, I don't get why you don't get the hint that I don't want that and -”

“Y/N-”

“- and if anything happened it’ll be my ass on the line, you can walk away scratch free, so just don't.”

The muffled noise outside is the only thing filling the void of tension and silence inside the car.

There’s no such thing as harmless flirting when it comes to these idols, one thing always leads to another and its not pretty for the normal person that has to put up with it their everyday lives after its over.

“Chan, listen-”

“I got it.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel, not able to stop his annoyance from covering is tone of voice.

“A-Alright”

.          .            .            .

You set your bag onto the back of his desk as you observe the beautiful mess that accompanies music producing.

Water bottles everywhere, papers half written on sprawled around a keyboard and mouse, while the screen contains a beautiful puzzle ready to be assembled.

“Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

True to word, Chanyeol ordered from a nearby chicken place and once you were finished eating you started reviewing his audio tracks one by one. Yes, he did playfully tease you when you put on your glasses and then again for putting you hair up after it kept getting in your space, but it’s full focus on his music.

“I’m thinking of one track just being a full on guitar solo.” he says renaming the track “g-solo”.

“You could place it in the beginning like an intro.” He nods at your suggestion renaming it again. You look over at your review papers and stare back up at the monitor. “What about track 3?”

“I have no idea” he groans, “It just doesn't right - all the other songs are working out fine, but this one-”

“Is a ballad” you clarify, “You’re voice isn't working-”

“Chen sang the demo for me and maybe it’s just not for me”

“What I was saying was” he rolls his eyes jokingly at your sassy commentary, “because you’re not complimenting your voice, you keep hiding it under the instruments.”

“So...”

“So..” you put your feet on the ground and drag your chair towards the desk, “let me find the harmony”

“My harmony?” His eyebrows come together frustrated as he plays the track again. After a couple of minutes of letting it play through you mind starts to work.

“The band should come after.”

“What?” You push his chair gently away from the center of the desk and replay the beginning of the track.

“Here, your voice plays for a bit before we get the other tracks in.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“Let me see,” you move in to grab the mouse and drag the playhead towards the area of conflict, while rearranging the instruments in the order you suggested. “This... here...”

You feel Chanyeol move closer towards your side, arm resting at the back of your chair, and his other hand stretching to point at his guitar audio track, “Can we turn the volume on that down?”

You follow his input, “We’re going to need to go back into the studio so you can add a second base, and - it’s better if I’m in the studio with you.”

“I can book the studio for Monday”

“Can you get the band booked for Monday?” You glance back at him quickly for his hesitance, “I mean we can book it another time when the bands’ free”

“Um..I play all the instruments myself.” Your eyebrows pull together and you turn your head to face him properly in disbelief.

“What? You recorded your voice and instruments..? How long does that even take you?” He nods and then shrugs.

“It’s tough.”

You want to scold him for not talking to you earlier - wait, no anyone else earlier. His life could be so much simpler if he asked for help in the first place. “It doesn't have to be that way, if you would've asked for help...”

“Yeah like that would turn out great...you didn't even want to come today.”

“Thats not the case”

“I had to basically drag you here myself”

“You could've asked someone else”

“I wanted you”

You turn around again to really let him have a piece of you mind, but realize how close you two actually were to one another.

His hand is still placed around the back of your chair, while his other arm is resting on the desk, basically trapping you to your chair. You turn in place towards him and rest a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention since he’s refusing to meet your eyes. “It is mot because I didn't want to help you, idiot. You keep flirting and -”

“You get scared of actually liking it?”

“I don't-”

“Can you just shut your pretty mouth for once?” He chides, “There are rumors of idols with staff, are some of them true - of course, but that doesn't mean everyones like that.” His eyes focus entirely on you now, “You know I’m not like that and you keep turning me down because of that.”

You fail to meet his gaze as you begin to recollect your morals. Chanyeol scoffs at your childish antic, reaching over to gently pull your face to him.

He doesn't say anything until your eyes connect, “You could fuck me physically and mentally right now If you wanted to, but you wont.”

A small gasp escapes you. Making you lower your eyes, in order to avert his stare, backfiring as they rest on his lips.

His tongue peaks out to lick his upper lip quickly before you see him mouth your name not letting his voice carry out. You try and look at his eyes so some sense can come through, but his attention wavers towards your own lips.

“You want me just as much as I want you” His head tilts to the side, hand climbing up to cup you cheek, his eyelids dropping to loose himself in you, “Permanently... not just for right now.” 

And thats exactly what you-

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEEEP

“CHANYEOLLLLL”

You both jump from the sound of the intercom static filling the room with Baekhyuns’ voice. “YAH! I forgot my keys and I don't want to be lectured so I'm crashing here tonight”

You feel a bucket of cold water being poured onto you as you jump up from your seat completely, hearing Chanyeol groan out an insult and disregard the door completely, “Y/n?”

“Yeah? I mean no-” You get up passing a hand through you hair and begin looking around for your bag.

“I’m going to commit murder today because of you.” Chanyeol with great calamity hand you your bag, only to hold you in place for what to you is too long. 

“Well it’s my cue to leave anyways.”

“I SEE YOUR CAR CHANYEOL. I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!”

“I’ll drop you off-”

“No, it’s fine” You feel your heart pushing towards another sprint and pull away from him trying to find a away out without being noticed. “Do you...do you have a back door?”

“But how are-” Chanyeol grabs you again so you stop fidgeting and focus on him. He centers you back close to him, ignoring his clearly annoyed best friend making a noise loud enough for the neighbors to be concerned, and passes his hand from the top of your head towards your cheek. “I can’t just let you go and -”

You’re fighting with yourself at this point. fighting to keep your heels on the ground and your lips untouched, he noticed your glance towards his lips. “I’ll call a friend” you barely let the sentence out, but you need to in order to assure him to let you go and assure yourself that you can leave alone - right now.

“YOU BETTER OPEN OR I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”

Chanyeol's eyebrows pull together in frustration, knowing fully well that he can’t win this argument without you getting mad at him and that’s not what he needs right now. He needs to turn back time to that good place you were in a minute ago, turn back time and duck-tape Baekhyun’s keys to his forehead.

“Go through the kitchen and theres a door, call me when you get home - Y/n I mean it.”

.            .            .            .

“Perfect timing” Chanyeol leaves the door open as he throws himself in his desk chair. 

He made sure to grab one of his hoodies for you before you walked out the back door. Every cell in his being was fighting the urge to go back out there and take you home himself, especially after seeing who your friend was.

“That’s what I’m known for...” Baekhyun says absentmindedly closing the front door, heading strait for the kitchen to start searching through the fridge, “You’re out of soda.” A bit more rummaging and Baekhyun efforts are paid off with a bucket of leftover chicken. “So how did you date go?”

“It wasn't a date.” Chanyeol rolls his eyes as his friend sits himself down and starts eating. “She made herself perfectly clear that she's not that type of girl and that this wasn't a date.”

“Are we going to keep pretending I don't know who ‘she’ is?”

“Yup,” Chanyeol turns to save of the changes on the tracks

“But isn't that why you like her?” Baekhyun swallows his food before he continues, “Because she's not that type of girl?”

Chanyeol shrugs, “Maybe I’m coming off too strong?”

“Really? I thought you were toning it down with the whole stalking thing,” Baekhyun jokes. “But honestly, Yeol... Do you really think, if this ever goes anywhere, that the company going to accept it and everyone will live happily ever after?”

“I don't know, but if she keeps thinking the worse and yo keep running moments-”

A piece of meat was caught in Baekhyun’s throat and he started coughing both from his meal and the news. “Wait, you guys had a moment?”

“Almost,” he sighs remembering the warmth emitted from you, when you gasped. It was like he finally got you and the last thing he wanted to do was send you off in someone else car. “...until we were rudely interrupted by this homeless guy that came to eat my food.”

“Listen” Baekhyun takes his time deboning the chicken, “I texted you a good 3 times before I came over - you had more than enough time to tell me to not come over and since you didn't...”

“Didn't you think my no-response meant I was too busy?”

“Yeahhhhh” Baekhyun laughs at his own thought and shrugs innocently, “I was kinda hoping you guys were having sex so I could use it after as blackmail.”

__________________________________________________

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[thenervousmedic]

A coffee a day... (Connor x Reader)

Note: I had some help! :D I lovely user by the name @rk800downloading was nice enough to give the beginnign part of this chapter a quick read-through. turns out i;ve been spelling Thirium as ‘therium’ this entire time- whoops. so big thanks to them for catching that ;w;

3 1/2 k words.

Summary: Hank brings you to his home for safekeeping where you end up snooping around his files to look at what they knew about your case. It’s not much, but you can;t help yourself, digging into the black hole that is investigative work to contribute your own theories.

A coffee a day- Chapter 5: A professional sleepover.

Hank let out a long drawn out sigh, stopping a short walk away from the hospital. Getting out of his car with a grunt of effort to grab what lay in the back seat. A set of large old-looking clothes were slung over his arm, the rustling of the fabric lost amongst a brush of air, leaves being swept up from the floor in a strong gust of wind. This was dumb…. Fuck it, if Connor doesn’t like it he can kiss his ass. He’s not going all the way to your house to pick up clothes for you. Not because of the effort- mostly because he doesn't want to invade a strangers home and rummage around their belongings uninvited.

His face wrinkled into a slight snarl as the androids words rattled around his brain. “Y/N is the only lead we have on this case Lieutenant, I feel it would be of our best interest to keep her as close and safe as possible.” A smile took its place as he walked. Connor had dropped everything he was supposed to accomplish in order to save him from falling the other day, maybe there was something there he couldn’t see just yet.

The approaching doors of the hospital put a knot firmly in his stomach. A heavy urge to drink began pawing across his spine and throat. With a heavy breath he went in, barely even showing his badge to the receptionist droid, heading straight for your room. You’re going to be in his house for who knows how long, and it's not exactly the prettiest playground on the planet, so he might as well make a better impression than last time.

--

“Oh, you’re not dead yet.” His barking voice was like managing to listen to the personified sound of toast. Crunchy and slightly burnt at the edges but welcoming and warm. You were sat at the edge of the bed, dangling your legs over the side while Connor stood clumsily looking as if he’d been caught with his head in a cookie jar. He probably would’ve pointed out your exact health statistics if you hadn't already answered with a short but witty “Not yet, but the boredom is going to finish me off sooner or later.”

His responding grin made you feel fuzzy. Not quite the fuzzy you got from Connor but more like the feeling of pride at earning one from the stereotypical grumpy old man. “Alright, put these on, you’re not getting in my car looking like that-” A quick hand gesture motioned at your patient’s nightgown brought some mild embarrassment. You weren't really one to wear skirts or dresses to the feeling of the open-legged hospital clothing was very emotionally uncomfortable. “Wait really?” You ask in surprise as the new clothes are handed to you. They feel freshly washed, like they’re still warm from a tumble dryer, and were definitely some of Hank’s clothes. “Are you sure it’s ok for me to use these?”

--

Connor watched on in confusion as the two of you talked it over; Hank repeatedly assuring you it’s no big deal while you thanked him and moved behind a curtain to change. He wasn't going to question the old man, it would only slow down progress, instead walking over to the doorway ready to leave. The longer you stay here the more your probability of further harm rises.

You emerged shortly after going behind the curtain, Hank’s heavy clothes looked gigantic on you, the coat alone hung down past your knees with its sleeves rolled up so your fingertips just barely peeked out from the ends. Connor felt his thirium pump do something strange, a malfunction perhaps, as it needlessly began to speed up and almost sounded louder in his internal audio. You were laughing from how much the clothes dwarfed you, so was Hank, but he couldn’t hear much of it over his own systems whirring. “I’m like a real detective now.”

“Yeah, well, this ‘real detective’ needs to get her ass in my car.” He grumbled back, turning to leave as you stumbled to catch up - taking Connor’s hand on the way past since he seemed pretty rooted to the spot. “Earth to Connor.” Your smile was hypnotic. “You’re not scanning me are you?” “No.” His voice strained for a moment, almost sounding embarrassed, as he trailed along beside you without taking his hand away from yours. It was an odd gesture but if you started it so calmly then he wasn’t going to go and make things difficult. Your hand was so soft… he soon found himself smiling, tightening his grip ever so slightly as he sped up to match your pace. Overtaking you on the way to the door. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by something.”

--

No... Did he just?

You said that to him. When you gave him the coffee that morning- when you had been lost in thought just looking at him awkwardly like a complete idiot. Heat went straight to your face at the thought of him remembering it, god it was so cringy, noooo. You dare not look directly at him, but the small window of peripheral vision did allow you to catch the smirk plastered to his dumb face.

As you got to the car Hank was already inside, the engine running, his gaze absently on the horizon as the two of you got closer. Seemingly off in his own little world too. You tried to insist on getting in yourself but Connor was having none of it; opening the door for you and hovering strangely close once you sat down. You finally stared back at his big brown eyes as he broke contact with you- looking just to the right of your head while reaching out to do something. A tingling electrical buzz went off in your chest as his hand came up to brush a messy slither of your hair back behind your ear before just as quickly stopping and grabbing the seatbelt. Tightly clicking you in place with a startling clank that shoved you back into reality.

Connor took the front seat, naturally, next to Hank and strapped himself in also. Hank not waiting for the android to be secure before setting off down the sunridden road. Fireworks had just been set off in Connor’s head and he couldn’t understand it for the life of him. For once he dared not open his mouth and ask Hank what it meant, not with you in the car, what was stopping him…

It built up slowly, like pouring water into a tall glass, the want to hear you say something. Anything. So long as you were talking he could satisfy that part of his programming that was going haywire.

“Y/N, how is your injury? I did not pick up any signs of pain from the walk.” “Ah she’s a tough cookie, Connor, even if she felt it she wouldn't say anything.” Hank chuckled back while briefly looking in his middle mirror to catch you smiling back at him. He was right, you wouldn’t have mentioned it regardless, keeping it to yourself was just natural.

“I'm fine, Connor, really. Thank you for worrying though, you're very sweet.”

You couldn't catch it from where you sat but Connors face was twisted into what looked like mild frustration. The bumping of the car jostling everyone around. It hurt, but not a lot, so you kept quiet about it. Instead shifting the conversation.

“Thank you for letting me come to your place, Lieutenant, I promise I won't be any trouble.”

Hank blew air roughly out of his nose, looking away from where he was driving for a second with an annoyed huff, “You're starting to sound like Connor.” despite the angry body language his voice betrayed the amusement behind it. “Call me Hank.”

Rays of sun started hitting you in the eyes, dusk closing over the city streets as the final glowing shards of daylight started to drown behind buildings. “We never really did get to introduce ourselves…”

You grinned automatically, knowing this was mostly Connors fault, trying to sit neat and straight in your seat. “My name is Y/N. Y/N Woods. It's nice to finally meet you.”

“Fuckin-a’ it is" he grumbled under a breath before finally answering back with a short- “Hank... Anderson.”

-- As the car came to a rocky halt everyone bailed out of the car at their own speed. The street was blanketed in that dim autumn atmosphere that can't really be described. The dust and leaves that littered the pavement held conversations with one another whilst being whisked away in a flurry of chilled wind. A damp but not murky taste to the air, fresh cut grass and someone's distant cooking coming and going as it pleased.

The house itself was quite cute and did indeed reflect its owner. The garden was unkempt and scraggly with weeds growing out of every crack in the path. But even if they're weeds, they're still flowering, they're still worth letting grow. You tried not to recoil upon walking through the front door when the scent of alcohol and dog roughly mauled your senses.

“I have a couch but you can use the bed if you want, I sleep on the sofa most of the time anyway.” The complete hollow sadness that enveloped Hanks tone drove empathetic daggers into your heart. The open kitchen and living room seemingly fucked for the sake of being fucked.

You had to admit though, this was already light years ahead of the hospital in terms of comfort. The smell of booze, though strong, wasn't as overpowering as you first thought and each scattered object added a little more character to the rooms they were in. Books lined every available shelf near the TV in a chaotic yet orderly fashion. “Sumo!” Hank barked into the house, throwing his coat haphazardly onto a small wooden kitchen chair.

“WOOF”

A large bundle of heavy fur and muscle waddled it’s way out of the distant bedroom. A saint Bernard, of course, the big droopy features on its face tensed into happy panting. Hank mumbled something inaudible as you cautiously walked in- looking a little out of place while Connor shut the door behind you.

The house wasn’t inherently bad. If anything it was a big step up from the discomfort of the hospital; the walls were lined with character. “Hank. Can I speak with you?” The serious inflection to his tone made you curious and yet completely discouraged you from trying to listen in as Connor directed Hank away from you. Sitting yourself quietly down on the sofa with a hand placed firmly across the sewn up bullet wound- trying to ignore the continual sting that arose now your painkillers were wearing off.

It was easy to tell which little hoard of written information was work related- the only stack of folders in the house that actually looked importantly wrapped. One on top of another in a knee-high collum; all underneath an old dingy laptop. Sumo huffed as he padded over to you, seemingly interested in the fact you wore clothing that still held faint traces of his owners scent, sniffing heavily at one of your sleeves while you reached forward to pat him.

Man, you loved dogs, you loved all animals. Sumo was no exception. Big, fluffy, with a gentle heart- you were smitten immediately.

His short puffy tail wobbled back and forth as you smooshed his cheeks together, giving him every little inch of attention you could spare, completely forgetting about the rising pain in your abdomen as he jumped up onto the sofa with you. You were… incredibly stuck. He’s so heavy! But you couldn’t bring yourself to be unhappy at the fact you were not partially buried under half a ton of happy-looking dog. “S-sumo stop!” She giggled uncontrollably, big slobbery dog-kisses now soaked your hands and face, forcing you to wipe your cheeks with Hank’s sleeve. The other two stopped their conversation to watch you, Hank being unable to hide the smile that came from seeing you get smothered by Sumo, Connor’s arms going back to their default position at his sides. “Well… It looks like you’re having the couch then-” Hank waved his hand at you, not bothering to call off his oh so terrifying companion from pinning you down. “-I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me.” “I’ll try not to!” you chirped back as Sumo settled down a little, curling himself onto your lap with the intent on keeping you there.

“That was actually for Connor-” You couldn’t hold back the snickers that came from imagining Hank being awoken in the middle of the night by Connor to go on some intense deviant hunt. “Night.”

--

The house was mostly silent when you woke back up, only a few short hours from when you had fallen asleep, the weight of Sumo no longer pressed onto your legs. It wasn’t really a cold night, but it wasn’t warm either, the air just kind of sat still like it was waiting for you to make a move. You missed your own apartment… as nice as it was to be here you couldn’t help the homesickness that gnawed at your neck. Your bedroom was a little messy but you knew where everything was. It was like having your own little word to live in, a retreat from the hassle that was talking to strangers all day as your job. As confident as you appeared, there were some days where you just couldn’t stand the thought of facing another human and actually looking at them, nevermind saying words to their face.

Shuffling to sit with your legs along the cushions while you nosed about the closest folders of information. You weren't usually one to snoop, but it WAS a case involving you, so you figured it couldn’t be bad to take a little peep inside. The writing was all perfectly uniform and printed, obviously Connors, with each letter spaced apart the perfect amount to make it easy enough to read and yet fit a good amount of words per page. Something fell into place, a little jigsaw piece in your mind that had been away from its post for a very long time, the love of a mystery.

As you glanced across the page, taking in every little detail that was your case, ideas sprang to mind and started yelping for your attention. Theories, leads, causation, reason. Visual threads begun weaving around the papers you had unknowingly spread out onto the coffee table beside you. Red wired tangling around invisible pinpoints of interest, totally engrossing you in it’s evidence. Your name was written several times along the side as well as a few other women of a similar age to you. The words ‘Biocode = B10C0D3, what does it mean, where can I put this?’ written on a separate page by itself in the center.

Without thinking you grabbed Hank’s dirty old laptop and booted it up, your fingers glided across the keys so seamlessly connecting one word after another you could have been mistaken for an android. A sound file emerged from your searches, it had only a few downloads but curiosity prompted you to check it out regardless.

“Biocode, a key component to creating an android, without it they would just be hollow husks. Not all coding is full of ones and zeros, just because that is a core component to how a machine thinks doesn’t mean it can’t think past those numbers…. Like you and I, no? Our brains zip around giving little electrical shocks from one neuron to another but that’s only a part of what it means to think. Just because you think doesn’t make you who you are, your experiences do.” You were completely absorbed. Crossing your arms to lean over and stare at the screen as a young man spoke with such enthusiasm it made you believe every word that came out of his mouth.

“If we made these androids without biocode we’d get robots… not androids. Our androids think, they process what’s given to them in a very human way to make them more… alive.” He looked directly at the camera. You could feel the hairs on your arms stand, the sudden dryness of your mouth. Every part of you yearned to hear more, but his smile betrayed the cockiness that was his upcoming ego. “Such an interesting concept don’t you think? Sentience. Complete autonomy. Of course our androids will never experience this, it’s not in their programming-” The video cut out, almost as if the entire speech was a practice round before the real thing, but the words remained with you for a long while. Grabbing the spare page with ‘B10C0D3’ printed in the middle, letting the pen you picked up scribble away at what you immediately turned into a spider diagram. Alive, Programming, Deviancy, and Jayden all splaying from the center, each branching out their own tree of thought as it rolled off of your hand as quickly as it came to mind.

“What are you doing?” You almost screamed, only just managing to slam a hand over your mouth as to not wake anyone who might be asleep. Connor was sat next to you. How long had he been there. How didn't you notice?

“N-nothing! Just… I thought maybe-” Guilt made it harder to speak your mind, knowing that you didn’t actually have the right to touch any of this stuff- nevermind interfere with a police investigation. His warm brown eyes loomed over your shoulder to look at the frenzied notes you had taken.

“You appear to be tense.” true to his word you froze up once he placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning you back against his chest as the rest of you stayed stretched out across the couch. “Is this better?” his hand reached up to gently stroke through your hair, de-tangling the scruffy mop with each brush through.

“Y-yeah.” You didn't quite know how to respond, finding a small shy smile creep it’s way onto your lips, his head resting atop yours so he could read your new information. He was quite impressed. In the short hour you had taken to do some research you had got more answeres than he had managed to scrape up from looking in the wrong places. “Do…. you want me to keep going?” He hummed for a moment, almost like he was contemplating turning down the offer, before reaching over your shoulder to hold the paper for you. “If you feel you have any useful contributions to our investigation then please don’t hesitate to share them. You are a key part in this afterall.” A sickeningly sweet feeling started hugging at your chest as you tried to focus on recalling information for Connor to note down.

--

This lasted for hours. Connor wasn’t sure he had done the right thing, cuddling up behind you while you worked, but the positive affect it was having on your mental state urged him to continue. Humans who feel safer and more relaxed tend to recall information easier than those experiencing too much stress. You were very quiet, but he didn’t mind that, he could see everything you wrote from this vantage point over your head. Though your heart rate did noticeably rise every time his hand wandered back to your hair- taking some time to brush down the soft strands.

Your concentration was admirable given the terrible grades you had in school. it’s almost like something didn’t quite line up between your real intellect and what the tests were built to determine. “Y/N. Maybe I ask you a personal question?” -- Uh oh, personal questions? Well surely it has something to do with the case, otherwise why would he even be asking. “Sure, what is it?” “You trained to become an investigator for detroit's police force-” you mumbled something too quiet to pick up in response before he continued. “-Why didn't you send your application in? I have no record of you attempting to join the department, which is a shame considering your apparent proficiency in the field.”

A long sigh escapes your breath, putting down the pen to rest both hands on your stomach cautiously. Why did he have to ask about that, i mean sure it’s relevant but it’s not… you didn't want to explain that to him. Truth be told you were terrified of failure, although the job excited you the thought of getting a case you couldn't solve was a gut wrenching and entirely possible scenario. You had chickened out… “Have I upset you?” “No, no, it’s fine, i’m just kinda… weighing my options right now.” you grunt while putting the paperwork onto the coffee table, closing the laptop to put it on the floor beside Sumo.

“I’d like to hear the truth option, if that’s available.” The way he said it almost made you snort, god he was so straightforward, it was practically impossible to keep anything to yourself once he’d asked. The dread that hung over many questions almost seemed to step aside at his command.

“I’m not… good enough for that job, Connor. I’m not like you, or like Hank, i’m just too…” You pause was met with silence as you raised both hands to your face and slid down the sofa to put your head on Connors lap. His hand now resting on your shoulder. “Dumb. I’m too Stupid.”

“...I don't think you’re unintelligent Y/N.” “......Thanks Connor…”

[drmmorbius]

Spin-Off Storyline: part 4

Victoria retrieved her phone, ear piece, and now cold coffee from the rooftop patio.

Creeping quietly back into her apartment, she went up to the loft to work on her new project. She was an entrepreneurial engineer specializing in weapons. The world was moving away from weapons of mass destruction in favor of more pinpointed attacks and her weapons were at the head of that charge. She had most of her money bank accounts around the world as well as in the stocks. She had picked up where Stark Industries had left of. They were still there but they were more into the bigger weapons whereas hers were much smaller and strategically tactical. Her latest was a small drone about the size of a penny. It was solar powered and had a camera that sent video and audio feed back to a VR headset that also acted as the human control system. It could obviously be programmed but it was mostly meant to be controlled by the headset. It’s purpose was to spy and collect/destroy computer files.

So far it had to be almost right on top of the computer to do it... she meant to fix that today... whether that would happen or not had a lot to do with the thing downstairs. She might have to call the police but she didn’t really have the heart to turn the thing in to be dissected.

Five hours in, sick of reading and re-reading for errors in her programs, she took a break and put the VR headset on and paired one of the little drones.

The little drone came to life, lifting into the air it flew out of her office and over the loft railing. It stopped inches from the creatures face, hovering silently. Laughing quietly to herself, she landed the drone on the creatures ear. But it did nothing and she soon got board. Taking off again she swerved it back around to get a better look at the creature. Much to her shock, the dark spots that had speckled his body, the burns that marred the pale flesh, were gone!

Fascinating!

There did however appear to be beads of sweat forming on his face and his greasy hair appeared to be wet now. She’d go check it out but first she wanted to test the file hacking system in her drone and proceeded to hack her refrigerator.

This unfortunately backfired and she released an avalanche of crushed ice.

(Nonsense string of curses from the upper floor)

Forgetting to be quiet so as not to wake the thing on her couch in her living room, she tore down the stairs and across the living room and into the kitchen. It didn’t matter though, the refrigerator was certainly not silent. Far from it!

There was nothing she could do at this point... the refrigerator was going to dispense all of it’s ice. Just as she had come to accept this tragedy, a choked scream of agony came from her living room.

“Fuck!”

“If this day gets any worse I swear I...”

The scream came again and then a thud.

“Well... he’s just going to have to wait” She huffed under her breath “because I’ve got a rouge refrigerator to handle!”

The refrigerator coughed out it’s last bits of ice and she slid the heap of ice out of the way. Pulling the refrigerator out of its slot in the cabinetry, she unplugged it and waited a few seconds before plugging it in. There... hopefully that will be fine.

The kitchen floor was polished concrete, same as the living room. She’d take care of the ice in a bit.

She crept cautiously into the living room. She was met with a very human form looked back at her with absolute shock. The expression was mutual, she was sure!

The man was sitting up, upper arms and chest bound by an old ratchet strap. He looked down at his hands and back up at her.

“You’re... what are you?”

“I... I believe I’m human... again... it... it must have been the injection...”

“What?! You were all... pale and toothy when I found you on the roof...”

“Yes, I was a living vampire. I am Michael Morbius”

“What the hell does that even mean?!” “Wait, Morbius? You’re that supposed vampire that’s been killing people around the city!”

“Yes ma’am, I... I need blood to survive... I don’t want to, they were accidents. I made a vow to only kill bad people... I’m a doctor...”

The last part was almost pleading, she looked him over. He appeared to be human... he seemed nervous as he watched her. If he was human... he had good reason to be, he was completely vulnerable in a strange place. He was still sweating heavily and breathing hard.

“Don’t move” she ordered him sternly. She came over to him and put her hand up to his forehead and the other to her own. “You’re running a slight fever”

“Plea...”

“Aaaggghhhhhaaa!!!”

He curled in on himself and fell over, the color drained from his skin and his claws grew out! His fangs gleamed, exposed in a now silent scream.

The transformation now complete, he lay on his side breathing heavily and hugging himself with what little range of motion he had. His eyes, which she was sure were red again were squeezed tightly closed.

She stepped back a little, horrified. The...man? Vampire? Living vampire? Whatever that was was clearly in pain. She knelt down to get a little closer.

“Uhhh, Dr. Morbius? Are you okay?”

Literally the dumbest question... he obviously was not but what sort of response did this situation require? Who the hell would ever in a million years ever think they would ever be in this situation?

“Here, let’s get you out of these” She hoped she wouldn’t regret this as she drew a large folding knife, flipped it open and moved to slice the upper restraint. His red eyes opened and grew wide as he saw the knife in her hand. He tried to squirm away but she caught him by the restraint and sliced through it almost effortlessly. He lay stone still looking up at her “...thank you”

“...you’re welcome” “you better not make me regret this”

“I won’t, I promise, thank you ma’am” he said sitting up and pulling the blanket around himself, embarrassed.

She must have undressed him...oh gosh this is embarrassing, he thought. She stepped over to his feet, lifted the blanket enough to get to the ankle restraint and cut through it too.

“I... ummmm, may I... may I make a phone call?”

“Who do you intend to call?”

“My friend Dr. Russell... Dr. Jacob Russell...please...”

“Go ahead” she said, handing him her phone.

He called and apparently there was no response because he left a message.

“Thank you for... helping me” “I know I don’t deserve it, I understand if you want me to go...”

“Well you’re...suit... was torn up pretty bad, it’s over there, she nodded towards the torn fabric hanging over a metal barstool. It would be pretty hard for you to leave without any clothes... and just a little side note, you should really invest in some undergarments.”

He stared at her, unsure what to say... “y... yes ma’am”

“Let me go find something you can put on” with that she went upstairs to see if she actually did have anything that might fit him.

A large, sculpted metal, wall-art piece hung above the couch he currently had his back up against. Across from him was a gigantic tv and behind that an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows that extended both floors of the apartment.

To say that interaction had been odd would have been a gross understatement. He suspected however, that it was just as strange for her, at least matched in that sense. He was surprised that she was willing to help him, that she had freed him from his restraints in the first place and then granted him a phone call on top of that.

Michael looked around the room for clues as to who she was.

[namjoonchronicles]

Possessive – [BTS] Dad!Yoongi Au

[A/N] This fancam is a blessing to us all. Gimpo Fansign, you will be engraved in my heart.

“We had a deal Yoongi. I make the lunch, and you write the supportive messages on their lunchboxes.”

“But I don’t want to,” he whined cutely, not forgetting the all-too-famous pout, “They’re so corny. Why would we do this?”

“Because it’s corny.” You spat back at him and handed him the pen. “I’m going to check on the kids, make sure you’re finished once they’re fully dressed.” He squeezed his lips protruded at you, uncapping the pen and started writing while you try to get first little Yoongi and second little Yoongi. The boys are as excited as ever. Glancing back at him, you saw Yoongi starting to scribble something and you smiled to yourself. He shoved the prettily written notes into the bag, sealed along with their water bottles. The boys ran out the room with their little bags and tethered around Yoongi’s legs. “Are you guys ready for school?” He asked, fixing his glasses as he reached for the car keys, hung by the fridge.

“Mummy? Is Mummy all dressed up and ready to go?” He asked the boys, and shifted his gaze to you when you walked out with your blazers through one arm, shutting the door behind you. “…Yup.” You answered cutely and followed your little ones. Yoongi had the first born and you had the second born. Yoongi refers them simply as, “Number 1” and “Number 2”. They’re twins, but so exceptionally different from each other, it’s so mind-baffling. Yoongi helped load their bags in the trunk, while you fastened the kids to their seat. Done with your task, you sat in the front passenger seat, asking the boys what song they want to hear. They spontaneously answered at once. And to be honest, you agreed.

Yoongi shut the trunk and walked to the driver side, a familiar beat was playing. He didn’t give it too much attention until he opens the car door and heard ‘Tony Montana’ was on full blast.

He was immediately flustered when he heard Agust D’s verse began to play. He stabbed the eject button repeatedly and as if the car stereo was possessed, it won’t response. “How do I even stop this? Why is this not doing what I tell it to do? Whose idea was this?” He finally had the stereo ejecting the audio CD. And when the sounds stopped, he placed it in his laps, exhaling through his nose while biting his lower lip like he had just committed a crime. The boys, and you openly howled “No… That was our jams! Daddy! No fair.” The boys all protested with their arms up in the air then down to each side. “What ever happen to good nursery rhymes? Why are you teaching our children nonsense?” He shot at you and placed the CD into its casing and underneath the dashboard while asking the boys for a cushion before hitting you on your lap, with it. “Seriously, that was supposed to be painful?” You mumbled, nonchalantly with half-shut eyes.

“…How did you guys ever found out about that song?” Yoongi placed the cushion on your lap and send the car engine going. “Don’t answer that.” He darted before any of you could answer. But the boys, being as rebellious as you are, exposed that, “Mummy listened to it the other day when she’s cleaning the house, and we liked it.”

Number 2, who still had his baby tongue, gurgled a laugh, “…Tony Montana shit—“

“Oh my goodness.” Yoongi muttered against the steering wheel. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, seeing how flabbergasted he got when he heard it. “Alright, here’s the deal. No one is listening to this mixtape. That includes you, Mummy. I’m taking it away.” He passed a warning pair of eyes through the rear view mirror. “So when do we get to hear them again, daddy?” First born kindly enquired. “When you turned 40.” Yoongi spat. You turned your head behind, to the boys when the car started moving at green, “…Mummy has a copy of it, don’t worry. Mummy has three, just in case Daddy deletes one.” You winked at them.

Soon, they arrive in school. When Yoongi had the car parked, you snatched a tissue box from the car and brought them with you. An older lady passed you when you leave your car, certain that Yoongi had everything with the boys and is walking ahead of you. She smiled and eyed the tissue box.

“…There’s a first for everything. I remembered the first I sent my first born. When you get to the third one, it doesn’t feel as bad.” She commented. “…You’ll get better.”

You snapped your head at her and shake your head, “Oh, these are not for me. They’re for my husband.”

She passed you a confused look but bid you farewell in peace, anyways. The orientation begins and Yoongi stood by you, he’s holding cameras for the children. Calling them at two minutes interval to have a picture snap. “Why are you taking so much pictures for?” You slapped his forearm, looking around at other parent who are very composed. “…This is for the scrapbooks.” He said, poking his eyes through the eye-piece and panned the camera to you. “Baby, smile.” He commanded. With his black hair and black-rimmed glasses, he was turning several young teacher’s heads. He had black turtlenecks on brown blazers, fit for autumn look and you just want to get away from all these attentions you were having for walking in with such an attractive husband.

“Another one.” He chirped, and you heard the shutter go. The microphone starts rustling, and the principal tapped twice on them to check if it was working. Yoongi, for once, started paying attention. He placed his hand on top of the other, fixated on his knee, sitting cross-legged next to you, where all the parents are gathered. As the principal gave his warm welcome through a buttery speech, Yoongi pressed his lips together, leaning to the side at you, he tilted his chin upward a bit, to whisper, “…Someone had a bad hair day.” So you trailed your eyes on the educator line-up and saw one women with super curly hair, bobbed-cut, standing out at every direction, to which you slapped his chest with the back of your hand, urging him to retract to his seat. “…Marvellous crowd we have here today, with a lot of supportive parents…” The principal resumed talking. “Also, we’d like to thank the donations coming from Mr. Min Yoongi and his wife, for the new IT and Science building expected to be completed no longer than three months.”

What? A donation?

“…Yoongi? What donation?” You sang. Yoongi smiled proudly before he waves around to thank everybody, he even got up and bowed to everybody as a sign of respect. “…Just a few thousand.” He beamed, but you had a sense that it’s gone a little more than that, “…You mean ten thousand.” To which he confirmed,

“About fifty?” Yoongi gave you a thin smile that sits between guilt and fear. “Fifty thousand.” You gave him a pair of steely eyes.

“It’s for the kids’ future…” He defended himself, clasping his fingers together again. “What about our future?” You shot back.

Yoongi swings his head to you, smiling like a fool. “…You know you don’t have to worry about that. We’re good for another two offspring, if you could put up with it.” He winks at you and you went for his nipples, poking his sides, punishing him while he winced cutely. “I can’t believe you would say that. In public? You have a lot of guts in you.” You muttered while attacking him mercilessly.

Now that the welcoming session and orientation is coming to an end, the teachers collected the children and Yoongi watches them go inside the school. They waved back cutely. “Take care of each other!” He yelled a bit and starts sniffing. Here comes the waterworks.

You handed him a tissue from the tissue box you took with you. “They grow up so fast…” He wipes his tears. “One minute you were catching them all bloodied in your palms, the size of Jimin’s two hands combined, and the next, they’re walking, waddling to school. I swear, in two seconds, they’ll be as big as Jungkook and travelling to Seoul to be Kpop idols. And then my headaches will start.” Yoongi starts hiccupping. You pressed a stricken smile on your face as you pass him another tissue.

The children are climbing the stairs, into the main entrance as other parents watched. The older lady that greeted you earlier about the tissue box gave you a knowing smile and lightly patted your shoulder as she goes. “Sweetheart, we should go.” You rubbed his back, coaxing him to leave. “Five more minutes.” He stifled.

“…You said that, ten minutes ago. We have to go to work. We’re going to be late.” You squeezed his shoulder and finally he starts moving, but not before glancing numerous time at the entrance, just in case, “…the boys wanted to go home.” You had to drag him by the arm and have him seated on the front passenger’s seat while you took the driver seat, next to him. “…Why in the world would you introduce that mixtape to them?” He laid his head back to the headrest, still annoyed by the horrible truth that happened earlier. “…Hey. That was the best mixtape you have ever produced, of all time. Have some respect.” You defended. Yoongi rolled his eyes to the side where the streets are moving while you drive. “…That mixtape is not age appropriate.” He crossed his arm, “…We’re listening to twinkle-twinkle little star from today onwards.” Yoongi sounded like he had made his mind.

“You mean your version of twinkle-twinkle little star? The remix you made when they were two?” You asked, and you started scoffing. Yoongi snapped his head to you, “…Don’t underestimate the power of twinkle-twinkle little star. I have Namjoon producing it just the way I wanted. That remix version had the boys smiling all the time. Mind you.” He turned to the window view again. “…Fine. Serendipity is good too. Why won’t you let Jimin do the singing for this new remix version of twinkle-twinkle little star? He’ll sound amazing. The boys will like him.”

“Because Jimin has a crush on you. So that’s a no.” Yoongi spat. “Yoongi. That was a bazillion years ago, can you stop?” You darted. “I am terribly possessive to what’s mine. I thought you knew that. I’m starting to hate that school for taking my children away. That principal is lucky I was nice. I would have gone back to the school to retrieve my children.” Yoongi muttered, sulking to his side.

“I swear, you will only get cuter as time passes by.” You commented. “I don’t want to be cute, I want another child.” Yoongi shot.

“So what did you wrote on their lunchbox?” “Something important.”