#instead of just going in to place the iv and get consent forms

[brownheadedcowbird]

Getting absolutely nasty to Mumford & Sons in the club

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye I — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal. 

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle) 

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution 

Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine 

The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.

Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.

Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.

“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.

“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.

“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…

His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.

Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.

Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.

-

The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.

Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.

Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.

Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”

“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.

Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.

He stayed silent averting his gaze.

“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.

Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.

“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.

Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.

“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.

Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”

Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.

“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”

“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”

Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”

The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.

“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”

Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?

-

Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.

During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.

Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.

Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.

Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.

As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.

“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.

Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.

They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.

Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.

Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.

“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.

Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.

She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.

Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.

Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.

When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.

Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.

The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.

Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.

“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.

“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.

Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.

“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.

Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.

The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.

Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.

“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.

Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.

“And you are?”

“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.

Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”

“Belle.”

“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.

Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.

Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.

“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”

“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.

“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.

Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”

Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.

A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”

“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.

Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”

Debatable.

“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”

“You just met me.”

“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.

Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.

“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”

-

Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”

Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.

“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.

She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”

Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”

“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.

“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.

She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”

“…What?” He whispered.

Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”

Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”

“I agreed.”

“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”

“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”

“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.

Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.

“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”

Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”

“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.

Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.

One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.

The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.

“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”

She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.

Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.

Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”

Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.

-

Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.

On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.

Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.

Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.

“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”

Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.

“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”

“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.

“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”

Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.

“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.

-

It may have been dark by now.

At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.

Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.

“Belle?”

“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”

“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.

“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.

Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.

Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?

“Belle, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.

The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.

“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.

“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”

“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay…Belle…”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you. Be safe.”

The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.

For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.

The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”

“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.

Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.

She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.

“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.

“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.

“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”

Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.

Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”

“Is this how you get all your girls?”

He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.

“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.

Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.

“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.

They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.

“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.

I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.

“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.

Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.

Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.

Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.

When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.

Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.

He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.

Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.

Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.

A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.

“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.

It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.

His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.

Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.

Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.

Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.

Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.

Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.

“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”

She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”

The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”

Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”

“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”

She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”

“…I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.

You are a fucking beast.

“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”

“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”

“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.

“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”

“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”

“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.

“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.

Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.

“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”

She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.

It made one.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

[katphantom69]

So like I've written smut once more, this time between my sona and tfa Blurr.

It was a cold winters night in Detroit. Snow fell lightly from the sky to join the layer already on the ground. The streets all seemed slow and empty as most people decided to stay home to avoid the cold.

But Blurr wasn't most people.

He had been out on his mission to find the Decepticon hide out and now found himself aimlessly driving around the city, trying to find a good resting spot for the night.

It was hard,  since most places had time limits or didn't let you park at all. You would be towed if u did.

He took a turn onto the highway in order to get out of the city and perhaps find a place to rest in the outskirts of the city.

It was 5 minutes into his drive when he felt a presence. The air suddenly felt cold around him... too cold. He started to feel a bit nervous and drove faster. But the coldness still lingered.

Suddenly he felt a jolt of electricity throughout his whole frame. It wasn't strong enough to cause any damage, very light actually, but it still caused him to nearly swerve into the opposite lane. He regained composure wondering what in Primus name was going on until he felt a slight pressure on his hood,as if something was resting on top of it. He started to slow down in order to assess the situation better until he had to slam on his breaks as a sudden chill ran through his whole body. He felt something sink in through his roof and slowly come to rest on his back seat. He froze in the middle of the empty road, engine roaring loudly as he stared straight ahead for a second before slowly moving his optics to survey his interior. His spark nearly jumped out of his chest when he saw what was resting in his back seat.

There.... there was an organic in his back seat! How?! And further more, it didn't look like any organic he'd ever seen. This organic was bigger than most he'd seen. Their skin was blue and they had pointy ears. Also instead of legs, they had a long whispy tail. He stared stunned for a bit until the organic turned to look over at his front seat. Their bright glowing magenta optics widening in sudden realization that, there was no one in it.

The organic blinked confused.

"What in the world??!" They said floating over to inspect Blurrs dashboard curiously.

Blurr took this opportunity to open his driver side door and in one swift move, he managed to dump the organic out of himself as he shifted into his root mode.

The organic landed with a soft thud on the ground as Blurr stood now fully, looking down at it.

"Now-ive-seen-many-different-kind-of-organics,-but-you-are-by-far-the-strangest-one-ive-ever-seen!" He exclaimed watching them get up.

The organic grumbled a bit dusting itself off before turning to look at Blurr with a scowl.

"And you are by far the rudest vehicle I've ever been in!" They grumbled, though they seemed a bit shocked seeing Blurr in bot form.

Blurr huffed.

"Rude!?-Don't-you-say-anything-about-being-rude!- You-suddenly-showing-up-inside-me-without-my-consent-or-permission-was-pretty-rude-dont-you-think?" He said crossing his servos.

The organic stared up at him for a bit before floating off the ground, much to Blurrs surprise and soon reaching eye to eye level for him.

"Cool your jets speedy," They said unamused, "I thought you were just some ordinary car. Not some robot." They say flying around Blurr giving him a good look over. For some reason Blurr felt a bit uneasy with this.

"If my memory serves me correctly, I believe your kind is called Cyber....Cyber something,I forgot the rest." They say as they stop flying and simply float infront of Blurr.

"Cybertronian!" Blurr answered.

"You-are-correct-in-your-analysis,-organic,-but-that-still-doesnt-explain-why-you-just...just appeared! In-my-back-seat! How-did-you-do-that?! What-are-you?!" He said looking at them with bright curious optics.

The organic crossed their arms and huffed.

"First of all,quit calling me organic! It's rude, I bet you wouldn't like it if I called you robot or non-organic. My name is Kimera." She said.

Ah, a femme, Blurr thought to himself as he listened.

"Second of all, I am a ghost...Boo!!" She said raising her arms, swiping her claws and baring her sharp teeth at him. This was supposed to scare Blurr, but alas...it didn't work. The bot just tilted his helm confused at this.

Kimera sighs.

"And third of all, since I'm a ghost I have a wide variety of powers, not to brag," she says clearly bragging, "but I am a very strong ghost thus have more power. I didn't just "appear" inside you as you put it. I was waiting for a car to drive by in order to get inside it. I caught up to you with my speed and then just turned intangible to phase into you. That's just one of the many ghostly powers I process." She finished looking at him with an inquisitive look.

"I've told you my name. What's yours?" She asked with a slight swish of her tail.

Blurr listened and tapped his chin in thought. He blinked a bit at the question.

"Oh! Right! Blurr! My-designation-is-Blurr. I-understand-now-that-you-are-not-a-normal-organic-but-a-being-with-great-power. Kimera-was-it? What-I-dont-understand-is-if-you-have-all-this-power,-why-do-you-need-to-hitch-a-ride-in-a-vehichle?" He questioned.

Kimera let out a soft shiver

"Easy,cars are warm. It's cold out and it's going to get even colder. Ghosts prefer warm places. I like hitching a ride in a warm vehicle during the night hours and stay inside it till the morning." She answered as she flew over to him with a slight hum.

"And you're pretty dam warm. I can just feel the heat radiating off you."

Blurr took a step back and put his servo up to shoo her off.

"Im-sorry-to-disappoint,-but-im-not-comfortable-with-organics-sitting-inside-me. Besides-I-am-terribly-busy-on-a-very-imporant-mission-and-am-looking-for-a-secure-hideout-to-be-able-to-rest-for-a-while." He said as he got ready to leave.

Kimeras eyes brightened at that statement as she flew over to face him again.

"Well in that case I can help! I have a make shift hide out right outside of the city. It's a pretty large cave, it gets real cold in the winter so I don't use it much during this time. But it's large enough to fit you even in your robot form and far enough from the city so no humans can get to it." She says with a grin.

"What do you say? I give you refuge and you keep me warm. It's a good deal if you ask me."

Blurr raised an optic ridge at this.

"How-can-i-trust-that-you-are-telling-the-truth?" He asked weary.

Kimera smiles

"Well, I'm not forcing you to go. Nor can I keep you against your will. You could leave now and miss out on this great opportunity or let me guide you there and have a secure place to rest." She said swishing her tail more.

Blurr sighs as he taps his chin in thought. It was better than risking getting towed again. He nods.

"Alright,-I-accept-your-deal-ghost-but-one-wrong-move-and-i-will-not-hesitate-to-attack-you-in-order-to-defend-myself." He warned

Kimera nods and turns to fly down to road to the outskirts of the city. Blurr turned into his alt mode and followed.

It didn't take too long to get there. Kimera had not been lying about her speed. The ghost was fast, fast enough to keep ahead of Blurr even when he speed up almost at full speed. This bothered him a bit but also peaked his interest. He could beat most bots in races and yet here this simple organic kept up with him no problem. He wondered if she could take him at his top speed.

But that was a question that wouldn't be answered any time soon. They arrived at the cave and just like Kimera had said, it was cold...VERY cold. Blurr was glad hid racer engine ran so hot. The cold wouldn't affect him much. But Kimera was shivering badly.

Blurr shifted back into his root mode to sit down and lean up against a wall.

"Alright,-you-did-bring-me-to-a-safe-place-to-hide. You-werent-lying,-so-I-guess-i-must-uphold-my-end-of-the-deal." He said looking over at her.

Kimera gave a purr and floated over happily and soon landed on his stomach. Blurr lifted his optic ridge again as watched her turn around 3 times before laying down. That was weird,he thought to himself, and it got weirder when she began to move her hands over his soft belly, giving soft but firm strokes.

He gave a small grunt as he moved to sit up more.

"What-in-the-name-of-Primus-are-you-doing??" He asked

Kimera squeaked surprised as she slid down a bit from his stomach when he moved. She huffs.

"Trying to get comfortable!" She grumbles

Blurr huffs back.

"But-whats-with-all-that-touching-stuff-youre-doing?! It-feels-weird..." he says. It had actually felt a bit pleasant but he was not about to admit that.

Kimera blinks

"Its called kneading,or as some like to call it "making biscuits", normally cats do when content and happy at rest. I'm trying to be nice here. It's supposed to feel soothing. I didn't even use my claws." She grumbled.

Blurr paused for a bit to process and look through files of organic behavior he'd studied before coming to earth. He soon found one of pets,cats to be specific and found that this indeed was a behavior they did.

"But-youre-not-a-cat?" He said a bit confused.

Kimera sighs just,sliding down a bit more till she was in the space right between his legs,right on top of his panel.

"Its ghostly behavior, Ghosts have some animal like behavior so it's not weird. Quite normal to us actually." She said suddenly noticing that this spot was much more warmer than where she originally was. She purrs and nuzzles into the spot making Blurr jump a bit.

"WAITNOTTHERE!" He squeaked out surprised making Kimera look up confused. His face was now flushed with a bright blue color, as if blushing.

Kimera tilted her head

"Why not?" She asked as she got up a bit. Her tail lazily swishing over the panel,making Blurr even more flustered. It felt ticklish as it grazed over that sensitive spot. Kimera tilted her head waiting for answer. Blurr was embarrassed to have to say why she shouldn't be on that spot. Her tail kept rubbing over his panel and it felt... good. He stammered a bit trying to explain but the teasing with her tail was making it hard.

Kimera raised a brow at this till she heard a click,  and suddenly the panel slip open. Kimera barely had time to move as it moved out from under her. She was dazed for a moment, haven fallen off between Blurrs legs, but when she looked up to figure out what had happened, she realized why Blurr was asking her to move.

"Oh...." She said sheepishly. "Now I see." She said flicking her tail with interest.

Blurr was very flustered now. He closed his legs a bit being mindful not to crush the ghost.

"ITOLDYOUTOGETOFF!" He yelled embarrassed.

Kimera chuckles a bit.

"You didn't tell me why tho, and there's nothing to be embarrassed about this." She said as she hopped back onto his stomach but faced what was between Blurrs legs.

She was interested.

"I thought you were a male" She hummed.

Blurr blinked and tilted his head.

"Male?" He asked confused.

Kimera chuckles.

"Yeah,you know. A man? A boy? Ummm, have a dick?" She said trying to explain it.

Once again Blurr looked through the information he'd gathered and soon understood. He huffed.

"Bold-of-you-to-assume-im-not." He says

"Cybertronians-dont-have-strict-gender-binarys-like-you-orginics-have. We-do-have-both-mechs-and-femme-frames-which-would-be-almost-equal-to-your-male-and-female-binary-but-we-are-not-defined-by-our-interface-equipment-like-you-seem-to-be." He stated

Kimera hums at this as she mused.

"Fascinating, so mechs can have pussys and still be mechs?" She asked.

Blurr was confused at the word till he realized what it meant.

"First-of-all,its-called-a-valve-and-second-of-all,both-mechs-and-femmes-have-one. Same-as-for-spikes,its-not-just-exclusive-to-one-frame-type. Although, femmes-do-have-breasts-and-mechs-dont-unless-they-are-carrying." He finished

Kimera took a bit to process the information and grinned.

"Ok so by spike I assume you mean dick, which is a cool name for it. The fact that both frame types have both set of equipment is pretty cool!" She said

"Also by carrying I assume you mean getting pregnant so you mean the frame type doesn't matter for that either? Both mechs and femmes can carry and impregnated each other,am I correct?" She asked

Blurr smiled and nods

"Correct"

Kimera laughs and grins more

"Like ghosts! Ghosts are the same way, except ghosts don't need to have sex to carry. They just gotta be mated and in a good environment." She says as she looks down curiously at his valve, thinking about something.

Blurr was now interested to learn more about these ghost organics but before he could ask, Kimera spoke up again.

"Soooo, you have a spike as well right?" She asked.

Blurr nods

"Yes"

She purrs

"Can I see it?" She asked.

Blurr was taken a back from the straight forwardness of the question. He blushed a bit.

"Well,I need to be...stimulated for that to come out." He says sheepishly.

Kimera grinned and pat his leg.

"Don't worry fam, I've got you." She said as she slid back down between his legs.

Blurr was about to ask what she meant before letting out a loud gasp as he felt something long and wet slide along his anterior node.

He looked down to see Kimeras long tongue lapping over his node as her hands rub the exterior folds of his valve. He bit his lower lip to suppress a moan.

Kimera purrs at this reaction and leans down to swipe her tongue between the folds, swirling it up and down in a circler motion between them. Blurr leaned back, propping himself up with his elbows as he let out a soft moan at this.

This was not how he expected to spend the night, but he wasn't about to complain.

Kimera licked around the valve entrance slowly. She pressed her tongue against it firmly but didn't push in just yet. Instead she slow rubbed the plush folds with her hands, getting a feel of the softer mesh that constructed them. They slowly trailed upwards to his anterior node and gave it a soft squeeze.

Blurr moaned louder now, his legs bucking a bit at that action. He heard a familiar click as his spike housing opened up, the tip slowly peaking out. He swallowed a bit and squeaked out surprised as Kimera suddenly pushed her tongue into his valve. It felt odd... but good. It was thin and soft and apparently very long since he felt it slow moving in deeper and wiggling around exploringly. He was very wet now, lubricant dripping onto the cave floor. He panted hard as his charge slowly began to build, his spike slowly coming out of its housing.

Kimera had not noticed his spike yet. She was too busy with her tongue deep inside his valve. She expored every inch of it with her tongue, loving how it squeezed around it softly every now and then. She was covered in lubricant at this point. Her clothing now soaked and clinging to her body. She didn't mind, she could phase it out later. Right now she was concentrated on the odd but not unpleasant taste of the bots valve fluids. The fluid was quite thick and had a tangy metalic taste.

She pressed her tongue deeper, suddenly rubbing against a spot that had Blurr gasping and arching upwards moaning loudly. She grins and let's out a soft purr as licks against that spot. She purrs more as Blurr moans louder, valve clenching more as he felt his overload coming close.

Kimera rubbed his anterior node faster as she wiggled her tongue inside more.

Blurr moans loudly as he trembles,  clenching and unclenching his fists. Kimeras tongue wiggled deeper into him hitting every dam sensory node he had. The tip of the tongue flicked over the entrance of his gestational tank and that drove him over the edge. He moaned loudly and came hard all over Kimera, leaving the poor ghost completely soaked with his lubricant.

Kimera pulled her tongue out slowly with a wet pop. She pulled it back into her mouth getting a full taste of Blurrs fluids. She chuckled as she turns herself intangible to let the fluids drop off her, then back tangible looking as if they had never been on her at all. She purrs.

"Well well well, seems like you really enjoyed that huh?" She teased.

Blurr looked down at her embarrassed. He noticed that she seemed quite clean despite him overloading all over her. He was about to question this when Kimera let out a loud chuckle.

"Very excited!" She exclaimed as she floated over to his spike. Blurr watched as circled it a couple of times before landing infront of it.

She gave a soft purr and lightly rubbed her hand over the tip.

Blurr bit his lip to muffle a moan.

Kimera purrs more.

"Not bad! Not bad at all" She complimented.

"Decent size, nice girth to it and I must say I'm digging the blue lights on it. Very nice." She purred.

Blurr was beyond flustered now.

"A...well....thank you" he stammered

Kimera hums and moves her hands up to unclip her cloak. She slid it off her shoulders and tossed it aside for now. Slowly she began to remove her clothing tossing them on the floor along side her cloak.

Blurr watched with slight interest as his cheeks grew a brighter shade of blue.

Kimera soon slipped off her final piece of clothing. She looked up at Blurr and purred.

"Like what you see?~" She asked

Blurr looked at her as she sat next to his spike. He firstly noticed that her tail had turned into a nice pair of legs, she had thick thighs and a soft pudgy belly. She looked soft compared to his hard metalic body, the tone of her skin a shade of blue a bit darker than his own. She a fairly good sized pair of breasts that jiggled as she moved to rest them on his spike. He moaned. They felt incredibly soft and plush against his hard spike. He bit his lip watching her move over to cradle his spike between those nice grippable thighs of hers. She pressed her body against his spike,letting it rests between her breasts.

He noticed the white shaped freckles that adorned her face along with many scars riddled all over her body. He silently wondered how she'd gotten them but didn't dare to ask. He gave a soft moan watching her use her tongue to lick the tip of his spike. Now that he could see it up close he could see how odd yet fascinating it was. Long, thin and red with a forked tip. Her magenta eyes gleaming mischievously as she looked at his face, observing his reactions.

Blurr had to admit, she looked pretty good,for an organic.

"I guess," he said, finally speaking to answer her question.

"I do find you quite appealing..." he said giving another moan as she licked his spike again.

Kimera chuckles.

"I guess that will have to do" She said as she leans down giving Blurrs tip another lick before taking it into her mouth. Her long tongue swirls around the whole length of the spike as she slowly sucks on the tip. Blurr arches a bit as she started to take more of his spike into her throat.

Kimera purred around it slowly deep throating the whole spike. She pulled off a bit and rubbed her soft breasts on it as she suck on the tip only. Her tongue dragging along the underside of it softly before licking over his slit again. She took hold of her breasts and squeezed them together in order to add more friction on Blurrs spike.

Blurr moaned loudly, head falling back to lean against the wall. This felt good, very good.

Kimera moved her breasts up and down his spike a bit, humming around Blurrs tip. After a while of this, she moved a bit to once again take Blurrs spike down her throat. Blurr watched her take it all down to the base, making her throat buldge in the process. She looked up at him and gave a purr of delight as she noticed he was watching her.

Blurr could have overloaded just by that sight alone.

Kimera soon pulled off and stood up over his spike. Blurr watched as she align the tip with her own valve, or pussy as organics called it, and gently rub it against it. The tip slipped between her folds a bit as she rubbed her pussy against it, giving soft moans and purrs.

After a bit, Blurr could feel her getting wet, his spike twitching in need as she stopped rubbing and repositioned herself.

Slowly and carefully she slid the tip into herself giving a moan once it was inside.

Blurr moans as well, it was warm yet soft, not as constricting as a cybertronian valve.

She pants a bit and slowly starts to lower herself more down his spike. Blurr bit his lip watching eagerly as she seemed to take it with ease, slowly, inch by inch, till at last she hilted herself haven taken all 12 inches.

Blurr was impressed to say the least. He could see the tip of his spike make a small buldge in her stomach. The sight alone making him moan needly.

Kimera chuckles

"Im glad you're enjoying yourself." She said panting, her body trembling a bit from how full she felt.

She slowly went to get up but Blurr stopped her, gently gripping her legs with his larger hands.

He smiled

"Its no fair you've been doing all the hard work. Let me take over for this, I'll be gentle I promise." He says rubbing her thighs softly.

Kimera purrs loving the touch. She braces herself as Blurr moves one hand to wrap around her waist. It doesn't quite go all the way around but he can still hold her in a gentle and secure way.

Kimera rests her arms on one of Blurrs larger fingers, gripping it a bit as Blurr gently pulls her up, causing her to moan as his spike slides out slowly about half way before he slow pulls her back down on it.

They both let out a loud moan at this, Kimera grinding down on it a bit before he pulled her up again.

The rhythm was slow and steady at first, Blurr moving Kimera up and down gently on his spike.

It grew too tedious and boring quick.

Kimera looked up at her bot partner and purred.

"Oi! This is nice and all but like, can't ya pick up the pace a bit slow poke?" She said smirking

Blurr huffed at this.

"Who-are-you-calling-slowpoke?!" He said pulling out of her in order to move into a different position.

He pinned Kimera chest down on the ground making sure her rear was up. Kimera blinks a bit surprised at the speedy change of position. She grins

"Now your showing some speed" she teased.

Blurr positioned himself behind her aligning himself. He let out a loud huff gripping her a bit tightly.

"I'll show you speed!" He said as he thrusts into her without warning making her moan out loudly gripping the ground as she lurched forward a bit from the harsh thrust.

And true to his word, Blurr did show speed. He thrusted fast and hard into the ghost making her moan and mewl loudly, the sounds echoing all through the cave around them.

Kimera clawed at the ground,tongue out drooling as she moaned. Her belly buldged with every one of Blurrs thrusts.

"Ohhhh fuuucckkk yesss! Now THIS mmmmf is more like it!"

She moaned

Blurr gave a slight hum of satisfaction as he thrusts more. He kept a firm but gentle grip on her hips with one hand and used the other one to hold himself up as he thrusts.

Both of them moaned getting closer and closer to cumming.

Blurrs thrusts got a bit more erratic as he got closer, Kimera moans and claws at the ground as she squeezes around his spike a bit.

"Ohh, fuck! I'm close!" She warned

She could tell by Blurrs hastiness that he was close too. She pushed back to his thrusts a bit as she moaned louder, drooling more onto the floor. She groans and slams down on one of his thrusts squeezing hard around his spike as she came with a loud moan of Blurrs name.

Blurr thrusted faster, giving soft pants and moans of his own as he approached his own climax. He gripped her a bit tighter and moaned loudly as he felt her squeeze around his spike. That along with hearing the lustful way his name had been moaned out drove him over the edge. He thrusted in deep and hard one last time with a loud grunt and came.

His fluids filling up Kimeras stomach making the ghost feel even fuller than she had before.

Kimera held a hand up to her stomach feeling it buldge with all the fluid in it. She whimpers a bit, feeling Blurr carefully pull out, his spike going back into it's port.

Without the spike keeping her plugged, a gush of sticky pink fluid poured out from her.

She pants softly as she sits up best she could with her legs open watching it all drip out.

Blurr had to look away from his handy work, not wanting to get aroused again.

Kimera gave a small huff at the mess but chuckled.

"Well, I must admit...that was great!" She said as she dipped a couple of fingers in the fluid and brought it up to mouth for a taste.

Blurr swallowed dryly watching her lick her fingers clean with that skillful tongue of hers. She was right. It had been great.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

"It-was-very-great-and-satisfying." He said looking her over a bit flustered.

"I-definitely-would-not-mind-doing-this-again, I-mean-if-you'd-like-that-is"  he said hoping she'd say yes.

[talkfastromance4]

Against All Odds--Calum Hood (part IV soulmate!au)

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: car accident, coma, stitches, an attempt at medical jargon, I did research but am in no way a doctor so if there’s fallacies, that’s why. I tried my best.

Song inspirations: move to you-jagwartwin; falling-tyler daniel; hesitate-the jonas brothers; falling-harry styles; stars in your eyes-ronnie hilton; want you back-5sos; what happens here-ASL; where will i remember you-ASL; all i want-kodaline

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

The Click || Measured in Moments || Fractures catch up on previous parts here!

Enjoy! Feedback is always welcome :)

• • • •

Calum hears rain. He feels it as well, but it doesn’t feel like normal raindrops. His entire body hurts, but the pain is more intense in his head and in his chest. It’s as if he’s on fire with a thousand-ton weight on his head and heart. Voices float in and out of his ears, he tries to decipher the words and their meaning, but his main concern is to control his breathing.

When the pain becomes too much in his head, he forces himself to open his eyes. They’re heavy but he pushes through and blinks a few times until he sees Ashton and Ruby’s faces near his.

“Oh, thank God,” Ashton exhales dropping his head, “you scared the shit outta me.”

Calum tries to sit up but Ruby pushes onto his shoulders.

“Take it easy, Cal,” she says, her voice small, “you’ve been in and out for the past ten minutes.” The honey color in her brown eyes are brighter than usual. “What happened?”

“Where’s Rose? Something’s wrong… she’s… where is she?” Calum demands trying to sit up again, but Ashton is the one to keep him on the floor.

“Take it easy,” Ashton repeats what Ruby said, “you’ve been murmuring her name. Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“I felt it. I can…” Calum’s eyes search down his body frantically, “I feel it everywhere. I need to get to her, I need to—”

His ringtone he has set up for Rose blares from his pocket and he’s quick to pull it out. He slides his finger over the screen to answer it but before he can say a word, a man’s voice comes through.

“Is this Calum Hood?” the unfamiliar voice asks.

“Yes, who is this?” Calum sits up and swats Ashton’s hands away so he can stand up slowly. Ruby holds onto his arms for support, which he’s thankful for. He got a head rush from standing.

“This is Officer Mathers, um… your girlfriend—”

“Fiancée.”

“…Your fiancée was in a collision just now. When we arrived on scene, she was slightly coherent and kept saying your name… Can you come to the county hospital?” Officer Mathers asks.

Like a tidal wave, Calum nearly collapses again, but Ashton has a strong grip on him and keeps him upright. Ashton can see the fear in Calum’s eyes.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Calum whispers.

***

Calum tries to placate and identify every emotion coursing through his body. His whole body is wired, he’s rubbing his hands together in anxious anticipation while his leg shakes impatiently. His eyes are focused on the cracks in the tiled floor, he’s focusing on his breathing and trying not to let the heavy pain in his chest overtake him.

Ashton and Ruby sit on either side of him, they gave up trying to console him as soon as they sat down in the waiting area. Officer Mathers, the one Calum spoke to, was waiting for them at the Emergency Room entrance, a solemn expression on his face as he explained the accident.

Rose was at a four way stop just as the storm started and when she pulled forward, another car came speeding through the stop sign hitting the front end of her car. She went into a tailspin and the force of it overturned the car. When squad cars, the fire department and the ambulance showed up the car that hit her was already gone but a witness getting their groceries from their driveway who made the call saw the whole accident happen.

It took all of ten minutes to break her free from the vehicle—which was how long Calum blacked out—and when she was placed on a stretcher that’s when she started saying his name, almost like a mantra. Officer Mathers took her phone that was still somehow clutched in her hand and found his number just as she was wheeled into the back of the ambulance.

A nurse came by after the officer left and escorted Calum, Ashton and Ruby to the waiting area. Calum badgered her for questions on where Rose was, if she was okay; but the nurse didn’t have that information.

His mind races while he sits and waits. It’s been hours since they arrived, he doesn’t even want to know what time it is. Every minute of not knowing what’s happening with Rose seems like a lifetime. His heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, he’s filled with adrenaline. He’s not sure if he wants to pace or sit here with his racing thoughts. He’s equally tired as he is wired, and he checks the glow in his chest every few minutes.

It hasn’t gone back to that dark orange, it’s as if he lost the part of Rose that helped complete him.

“I should have been with her,” he mumbles. Ashton and Ruby turn to him, their fingers are interlocked, and, in that moment, Calum is jealous of them. They have the comfort of their perfect counterpart, Calum’s never felt more alone.

“You can’t blame yourself, Cal,” Ashton tries to reason but Calum doesn’t want to hear it.

Not being able to handle sitting much longer, he rises from his chair and begins to pace. His head is still throbbing all around, so he tries to release the tension in his back by placing both hands on his neck. His fingers knead and rub the tight muscles but to no avail, his mind is still racing, and his heart is aching.

Calum.

He spins around abruptly hearing Rose’s voice, but is met instead with a woman wearing an orange surgical cap.

“Are you Calum Hood? Rose’s fiancé?” the woman asks.

“Ye—” he clears his throat, lowers his hands from his neck. “Yes, I am. Is she all right? Can I go see her?”

“I’m Dr. Robbins,” she says, “When Rose arrived, she was unresponsive, so we did some scans and found bleeding in her brain. We took her into immediate surgery to alleviate the bleeding. She has a femoral shaft fracture due to the collision and our orthopedic surgeon placed plates and screws to secure the fracture and an external fixator that holds it all in place. When you see her, it will look a little scary to see the fixator. She also has a few broken ribs and she’s being moved into the ICU so we can observe her on the clock.”

Her words fumble and stumble inside his brain, Calum tries to make sense of it all.

“Can I see her? Please?” his main concern is seeing her for himself, with his own eyes to make sure she’s all right.

“As soon as she’s settled, I’ll send a nurse to bring you to her. She won’t be awake yet, but the anesthesia should wear off in an hour or two. I’ll see you then.”

“Thank you,” Ashton says.

Calum thinks he says them as well, his mouth opens but he doesn’t hear the words. When Dr. Robbins turns on her heels, shoes squeaking on the linoleum, that’s when Calum loses his balance. Ashton and Ruby grab hold of his arms to steady him and bring him back to his chair.

Thankfully, it isn’t long before a nurse retrieves them escorting the three friends down the long, brightly lit hallway. Calum’s throat is sandpaper dry, he’s not sure what to expect when he sees Rose, but he knows when he sees her eyes, he’ll be able to tell how she’s really doing which will equally appease him.

Right when they’re about to turn into the glass paneled wall, curtains are pulled to hide the room, he takes a deep breath. When he sees her, he nearly falls to his knees. His beautiful Rose lies still in the bed, her head wrapped in cloth and gauze while her face is covered in bruises and scratches. Her left leg is elevated with small rods and screws holding her leg in place; now he understands what Dr. Robbins meant about the fixator. It makes her leg look bionic and very unnatural compared to her natural beauty.

His feet feel like lead as he steps forward moving against the curtain. Machines are beeping, while tubes, wires, and IV’s protrude from her chest and arms. When he reaches the side of her bed, he collapses into the chair placed next to it. His brown eyes are sad as he looks her over, his beautiful Rose. Carefully, he touches her hand and when he sees her ring still on her left finger, that’s what breaks him.

“Oh, Rosie,” he sighs letting his head fall onto the back of his arm. He kisses her fingers delicately, making sure not to jostle her too much. She smells like hospital, sterile and clean but he can faintly make out her distinct rose and rainwater smell.

He doesn’t notice Ashton and Ruby shuffle in and occupy the other chairs across the room. He holds her hand tightly in comfort, almost willing that he could somehow take her pain away. He’d rather it be him in the bed than her.

He doesn’t notice a nurse come in until he feels movement on the bed, and he sits up in a flash.

“Checking her vitals and numbers,” the nurse smiles as he eyes the monitors.

Calum watches him sullenly as he checks her breathing, and notices how he makes a face as he shines a small flashlight in her eyes.

“I’ll be right back.”

“What’s wrong?” Calum asks but the nurse is gone. “What’s wrong?!” he looks to Ashton and Ruby who shake their heads in confusion as well.

Dr. Robbins comes bustling in, bringing her own small light to Rose’s eyes, flicking it over as she opened her lids.

“Rose? Rose, can you hear me? I’m Dr. Robbins and you’re at the County Hospital. Rose,” she says in a cool affirmative voice.

“What’s wrong?” Calum demands, his voice hard.

“Check her blood pressure,” Dr. Robbins instructs the nurse. “Mr. Hood, I need you to wait outside.”

“What the hell is happening?” Calum roars rising to his feet. Dr. Robbins eyes him.

“I need to run a few tests on her right now, and for me to properly help her, I need you to wait outside for me, okay? Right outside the door,” Dr. Robbins speaks to him as if he’s a child but it’s not in a condescending way.

“C’mon, mate, let’s go outside,” Ashton says suddenly next to him.

Calum holds onto Rose’s hand as long as he can, his eyes never leaving her face until the curtains are pulled around her bed. Closing Calum off from her again. He hears medical jargon through the thin piece of fabric. He waits, he listens, he watches the glow in his chest flicker.

Five minutes later, Dr. Robbins pulls them aside.

“Rose has a traumatic brain injury and I believe that is what has her in a comatose state,” Dr. Robbins tells him, Ashton, and Ruby. “The impact of the other car caused severe trauma and her body is trying to heal itself in this way.”

“Will she wake up?” Ashton asks.

“It’s hard to say at this stage, statistics show—”

“I don’t want to hear the statistics. She’s going to wake up, what can we do to help her?” Calum asks with not even an ounce of doubt.

“Keep her as comfortable as possible, it’s a good sign she’s breathing on her own but we’ll set her up with a feeding tube so she can still get the nutrients that she needs. We’ll continue to monitor, do routine coma tests and make sure that her leg is healing properly.”

“Let’s do that, then,” Calum nods and moves to go back to her room. He looks back at Dr. Robbins, Ashton, and Ruby. The look they’re giving him is full of sadness. “She’s going to wake up.”

Two Weeks Later

Calum has been at the hospital day and night with Rose. Unwilling to leave her until she wakes up, the staff have brought in a bed for him to sleep in and placed it right next to hers. The first few days were the hardest, Calum was still in shock and trying to process all that’s happened. The guys stayed with him in rotation until it was well past visiting hours. The nights were the hardest, Calum ached to lay next to her and hear her true heartbeat rather than the beeps of the monitor.

As the days went by, her hospital room became like their own little one room apartment. Ashton and Ruby were kind enough to bring their pillows and blankets, clothes for Calum to change in and out of, their poetry books and record player paired with their favorite records.

Michael and Crystal have taken in Duke and Honey until Calum and Rose can return home. He wishes he could bring the dogs in so that their presence would somehow breakthrough to Rose, but the hospital wouldn’t allow it in case they bumped her leg or tugged on the multiple wires and tubes she’s connected to.

Calum also had flower arrangements delivered so the whole room was vibrant and floral smelling. He made sure they were always roses, hoping it would pull his Rose back to him. They also brought a little bit of light in here; it’s been raining for the last three weeks. He never lets one of them wilt, if it looks like it’s starting to brown he orders a new arrangement. He doesn’t want any form of death happening in this room.

The TV is on low volume when Jane, Rose’s primary RN whisks inside.

“How’s our girl doing today?” Jane asks brightly. She appears next to Rose checking her tubes, stitches, IV drip and her leg.

“Okay I think. I think I’m going to try reading her some poetry again,” Calum says stroking the back of Rose’s hand with his fingers.

“I think your love story is so sweet,” Jane smiles poking the earpieces of her stethoscope in her ears. She nods to his guitar leaning against the window. “I haven’t heard you play that yet.”

Calum glances at the instrument that Luke brought over for him one day in the first week of Rose being admitted. Luke told him music is what brought him and his soulmate together, and the love Calum and Rose also shared of music was bound to ignite something within her.

“I don’t really want to play the melodies that are in my head,” Calum says picking up a poetry book that’s on the makeshift nightstand next to his cot bed. It’s a hospital table-top cart that holds his and Rose’s notebooks along with their poetry books. He shuffles through the pages, inked words flashing by quickly. “They’re all sad and I don’t want her to feel that.”

Jane nods tucking Rose’s plush periwinkle blanket back into place, so she stays warm.

“I understand. Everything looks good, I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t forget to eat, Calum,” Jane reminds him with a pointed look.

“Thanks Jane,” Calum tries to give her a grin, but he can feel it’s more of a grimace. Jane walks back out of the room closing the door behind her and Calum sighs staring at Rose. “Should I read some poems to you, Rosie?”

The page he landed on was of a poem titled Bloom,

‘Someone once planted your name

like a seed in my heart.

Only now I’ve met you,

Do I know what it means to bloom.’

And below the printed words are Rose’s own, handwritten in her beautiful cursive. Calum traces the written words with a longing he knows will never go away. It reads:

Calum and I said ‘I love you’ to each other. Not many soulmates do that but after that night with the storm when we had sex for the first time…it felt right. Like my world finally clicked into place. I’ve read about love, seen it with my own eyes from friends and family but to feel it? Love is such a strong word, since we’ve both said it I feel it blooming within me. When I say his name it grows, when he says mine it doubles, and when we exchange ‘I love you’ it triples.

Calum remembers that night perfectly. The provocative prose he read to her lead to their lovemaking while the storm rumbled on outside. It mirrored the storm within him at wanting to declare his love to her, but he kept it inside in fear of losing her. He knew he loved her the first time they kissed up in her apartment, that this was everything he’s ever wanted. Rose is the muse he’s been writing and singing about for all these years.

A loud roar of thunder shook outside, and Calum glances out the rain streaked window as lightning flashes across the sky. It’s as if the universe knows his soulmate is in turmoil because the rain hasn’t let up at all. Glancing back at Rose, he hopes wherever she is that it’s sunshine and happy memories.

He closes the book then moves to the record player in the corner of the room. Their favorite record is already placed inside, and he turns it on. Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room as he sings about the moon. Calum inspects the flowers making sure they all have their vibrant color before sitting back down on his cot.

He picks up his Michael Faudet book and reads Chasing Love out loud to her. When he’s finished, he stares at this poem for a long time as Frank’s voice ricochets off the walls. The first half is a little broody, two pathways meeting but not crossing. He’s thankful his path and Rose’s crossed—crashed actually. He’s reminded of the ghostly dream he had of this phantom woman a few years ago that teased him of knowing him in his ear. Turns out it was her all along.

The last line pulls at his heart ‘how sunshine steals from autumn frost.’ What a conundrum because his sunshine was stolen from him. Instead of frost and snow the sun was replaced with the rain and thunder brewing relentlessly outside.

He looks at his Rose, frozen in sleep, and he’s desperate for her to return to him. his throat works as he realizes how too close their situation resembles to the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty. His sweet, sweet Rose in a deep slumber.

Calum traces the area of the diamond on her finger. It’s become a bit loose and he takes in her appearance for the thousandth time. Her complexion is dry and thin compared to her usual warmth and softness. She’s void of color and abundance. Like the other times before when he’s felt her anger or her sadness, he tries to place what she’s feeling now but comes up blank. There’s a faint buzzing and a very distant lilt of music, but that’s all he can gather.

The red glow is dim but still there, so that has to be a good sign. Calum scoots closer and with careful fingers touches her hair that is also less in color and dry. Some of it is growing back in baby tufts around her stitches. He caresses her cheek; her skin is lukewarm. On a normal day, this action would have made her cheeks heat up in a light pink pigment, but they remain the same pallor.

“Come back to me, Rosie,” he whispers anxiously. He curls her cool, limp fingers in his. “I love you so much.”

On instinct, he glances back to her chest, the red glow is still the weak glimmer but it’s that little bit of light that urges his hope to press on. She will wake again.

Four Weeks Later

Ashton is sitting with him today like he has been every Monday and Wednesday prior. The record player plays absently in the background and Ashton watches his best friend cling to the love of his life. Their talk is minimal, the weather has been the same onslaught of rain so that’s always out. After Calum informs him of Rose’s condition it goes silent between them.

When the record stops Calum shifts to that part of the room and grabs their album placing it on the B side of the vinyl. He feels Ashton’s gaze on him the whole time.

“Lover of mine is her favorite,” Calum grins then sits back down next to her bed. He’s hoping the music will awaken her at some point. He has to find the right song.

“I hate seeing you like this, mate,” Ashton finally admits. “You’re wasting away being cooped up in here.”

“I’m staying until she wakes up.”

“You have to start thinking of the possibility that she might not…” Ashton’s voice tapers off morosely. Calum’s eyes flash in white hot fury.

“She’s going to wake up,” Calum says firmly. “She’s in there. She can hear me and I…I feel her.” He flicks his eyes back to her then takes her hand.

A few days ago, while he was reading to her, the buzzing he always heard quieted and the musical melody became louder.

“How?”

Calum hesitates, his thumb rubs the back of her hand. “We love each other,” he confesses and Ashton gasps. “And since we’ve said it we’ve had a…a connection. It’s a warmth and a-a glow in our chests and somehow it combined into one. She still has her glow and I have mine.”

“When—why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s hard to explain and I know it’s not common for soulmates to say it to each other, because there isn’t really a need to but…I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”

“I’d never think that. That’s incredible, man.”

They fall into a silence again. Ashton is still wrestling with the idea that even though Calum feels her, who knows how long it will be until she does wake up? He wants to be supportive of his friend, his brother, but it’s hard when he can see how harrowing this is for him.

He’s been stuck in this hotel for four weeks now, eating hospital food and never leaving. Calum has lost weight and he has dark circles under his eyes that never seem to go away. The similarities between Rose and Calum’s appearances is frightening but also adds truth to how Calum says he ‘feels’ her. Is he going through what Rose is?

Ruby arrives about an hour later with some take out food, her curls are dewed with droplets of the rain and her face falls when she catches sight of Rose and Calum. She looks to Ashton who nods; the two of them have discussed trying to get Calum to go home for a bit and today seems like a good time to do that.

“Hey Cal,” she greets him brightly setting the food bags on the table under the tv.

“Hey Rube,” he replies quietly, eyes never straying from Rose.

“What do you say about going home for a few hours?” She rubs her hands together trying to warm up from the cold rain. “Ash and I can stay here so you can shower and do some laundry.”

Calum turns to her stiffly, his brown eyes flat.

“I’m not leaving her, Ruby.”

“It’d only be for an hour or two,” she presses moving to the other side of Rose’s bed. She gazes at her own best friend, sadness welling up in her heart. “You don’t have to spend the night but just to stretch your legs, get a change of scenery.”

Calum licks his chapped lips, the thought of showering in his own bathroom is tempting. The one here gets the job done but he can feel the difference in comfort. He does have a pile of clothes in the corner that should be washed but the thought of leaving Rose tugs at his heart.

“What if something happens?”

“You know we’ll call you,” Ashton chimes in. “Rose would want you to take care of yourself, too.”

After careful thought he agrees, gathers his clothes then kisses Rose’s forehead. It’s clammy and each step away from her makes him feel horrible. It rises a panic in him he’s never felt before and it only increases when he gets in his car. The rain is a horrible reminder of the night of her accident when his world flipped upside down.

He’s anxious the whole car ride, it’s weird being in a vehicle after four weeks of staying in one place. He makes sure to keep both hands on the wheel as he drives not wanting to risk getting into an accident himself.

When he arrives home it’s dark and quiet without the welcoming of the dogs’ claws on the floor. He misses them and wants to see them at Mike’s house but that would make him be away from Rose longer and he couldn’t have that. Maybe he’ll go over there in a day or two.

The silence is deafening as he walks down the hall. He pauses at the Eiffel tower photos on the wall and gazes at each photo. Rose’s smile and the light in her eyes brings him both comfort and pain. Being home and out of the hospital makes him truly feel the huge weight on his shoulders

He tosses his clothes in the washer and pours in the desired amount of detergent. He selects a setting without reading it but sees it’s only for forty minutes. Good, the faster he can get back to the hospital the better.

Once inside the bathroom—he makes sure to avoid looking at their bed—he connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the fan. Calum’s body feels heavier as he removes his clothes slowly, his arms like lead and his muscles throb.

He stands under the hot spray of water, breathing in the steam and letting it smooth out his strained muscles in his neck and shoulders. Memories of showers spent with Rose flood his mind. He always loved the way she’d stand behind him with her hands sliding up his chest as she kissed the space between his shoulder blades.

What he would give to have her behind him right now. If only he didn’t have to be at the venue early to set up for the show Rose would have been with him. She wouldn’t have had to drive by herself, she wouldn’t have been at that intersection and she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.

The song changes and the all too familiar lyrics ‘remember the words you told me love me ‘til the day I die’ pierced Calum’s heart. His breath catches as the words sink in along with Ashton’s insinuation that she might not wake. Calum slams his palm against the wall, he continues to smack it until he feels the sharp pain shoot up his arm. He falls to the shower floor, water raining down on him as his sadness, hurt and confusion surface.

Calum feels so lost without Rose, his sobs bounce off the tile and drown out the music. He lets out a few shouts of rage to mask the song of hurt while his bleeds out. He’s not sure how long he sits on the shower floor before he cleans himself off and exits.

While he brushes his teeth, he stares at himself in the mirror barely recognizing the reflection. His cheeks have sunken in under the dark bags of his eyes. He’s so exhausted, sleeping on that cot isn’t as comfortable as his own bed. Calum replaces his wet clothes into the dryer, noting the time of an hour and a half. He shuffles back to his and Rose’s bedroom and falls onto the side that’s hers.

Her pillow still smells like her and tears well in Calum’s eyes at the all too familiar smell. He pulls the comforter over him, his eyes closing easily. He’ll just sleep until the dryer is done and he’ll be back at the hospital in two hours.

The next time Calum opens his eyes is due to a loud crack of thunder. He’s still on Rose’s side of the bed but facing the other way and his whole body feels rigid. His hand pats the bed until he finds his phone, the light makes his eyes strain and he blinks in confusion as he reads the time.

He slept for a whole day and a half. For a quick moment he forgot about the accident and thought he’d just come back from a tour. The phone drops to his chest as he rolls over to gaze at Rose but she’s not there. His small moment of bliss dissipates because he hasn’t been on tour in so long and reality sets in that Rose is back at the hospital.

He curses himself for falling asleep then stretches his limbs, the cracks of his joints are music to his ears and fill him with release. He lies in bed for a little while longer until he’s more awake then gets out slowly. His hair has dried oddly because it was wet when he dropped onto the mattress, but he doesn’t care. He has to get back to Rose.

When he arrives back at the hospital again, guilt ever present in his chest of being away from her so long, he finds there hasn’t been any change in her condition. Ashton and Ruby figured he fell asleep and were glad at how refreshed he looks. They stayed the night with Rose and he’s thankful for that but still feels awful for not sleeping next to her.

After catching up with Ashton and Ruby, they leave him with a kiss on the cheek from Ruby and a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder from Ashton. Calum kisses Rose’s forehead.

“Sorry for being away, sweetheart. Sleep took over me but I’m back now. Should I read some more to you?” he picks up a book and starts to read from Michael Faudet.

He stares at ‘The Northern Lights’ reminiscing about his and Rose’s own moment at the beach, much like what the poem is describing. He reads it out loud, twice then stares at Rose’s face.

“Remember that night at the beach, Rosie? The stars shone in your eyes and we got sand everywhere,” he smiles at the memory while Ronnie Hilton’s song ‘Stars Shine in your eyes’ plays just like that night.

It was a date night curated by Calum complete with a basket of food and a large blanket to lay in the sand. They were in a hidden spot unseen to other beachgoers with the perfect view of the ocean and the setting sun. It was twilight when he lit the candles for their dinner, feeding each other the small finger food with kisses exchanged in between each bite.

Rose pulled him to his feet so they could walk in the ocean for a little while, just until the sun disappeared below the horizon. When her feet became cold, she hopped on Calum’s back so he could carry her back to the blanket where he draped a second one over her legs while he got a fire started.

He remembers how he froze when he turned around to see her top off, a nipple peeking above the second blanket he gave her, and she flashed him the sweetest smile.

“Come warm me up?”

They created their own sunset between their hearts that night, the smell of ocean air and smoke clouded over their tangled limbs as they made love twice on the beach.

The loud ringing of his phone pulls him from the sweet reverie, he sees it’s his mom and he picks up right away. She asks if there has been any new progress with Rose and he tells her not yet and that she doesn’t have to come watch the dogs because Mike still has them. He promises he’ll call her when Rose does wake up.

He hangs up and is still thinking of the beach when he’s reminded of a poem Lang Leav wrote called ‘High Tide’. He goes to her book and reads out the first line.

“’Are you somewhere looking at the sea, my love?’ Is that where you are, Rosie? By the sea? The sand in your toes, salty seawater spraying your hair?” he chokes up as he gazes at her still face. He grabs her hand in his and kisses it. “Pick a pretty shell for me, okay? What should I read next?”

Five Weeks Later

It’s Thursday afternoon and Calum is doing the routine exercises for Rose, so she doesn’t get bed sores and her muscles don’t atrophy when Ruby enters the room. She is absolutely beaming, her eyes wide and bright accompanied with a huge smile on her face. Surprised at her elation, Calum’s first instinct is to look at her left-hand thinking Ashton proposed to her, but her hand is bare.

“Hey Rube, what’s up?” he asks bending Rose’s fingers down one by one, similar to the tactic of counting a child’s toes as little piggies.

“Ash and I said, ‘I love you.’”

“Really?!” Calum gives her a large smile then massages the palm of Rose’s hand. “That’s fantastic, how’d it happen?”

“We were making breakfast and he just said it,” she smiles breathlessly. “You and Rose were right about that warmth; I feel it everywhere…it’s like I’m floating on air.”

“That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you guys.” Calum sets Rose’s arm back down on the bed and moves down to her leg that’s not in a cast.

“We have you two to thank. Rose told me not to be scared and after what you told Ashton last week he said he’s been feeling different. I can’t wait to tell Rose.” Ruby smiles down sadly at her friend

“She’ll be happy to hear about it,” Calum smiles and lifts her leg to do the exercises. Dr. Robbins has said that her external fixator is doing a good job of healing her leg, it’s a slow process but with her current condition, slow is best.

Ruby recounts the whole moment for Calum while he continues the exercises with Rose. Ruby knew something was up because Ashton was being a bit moodier than normal and was acting nervous while they did their morning yoga session. It wasn’t until Ruby started their coffee and she asked for their two mugs did he say it after she said, ‘thank you.’

Calum knows Ashton will probably tell him about it when he comes to visit but it fills him with happiness that his two friends know of the same elation that he and Rose feel. When her exercises are done, and Jane has checked her vitals, Calum and Ruby sit down while he reads more poetry to Rose.

Before he’s about to go to sleep for the night he reads one more poem and notices all of Rose’s underlines in ‘A Letter to My Love’ starting with the word France and the rest as follows:

‘…how we pictured, but it is exactly how it was always meant to be.’

‘But building this life with you has been the grandest adventure.’

‘This is the happiest I have ever been.’

‘With you I have seen all my dreams to into fruition.’

‘All I ask now is for time with you, as much as we are allowed.’

He doesn’t like that last foreboding sentence, as if this time they’ve shared together is all they were allowed. This can’t be it for them. Then her handwriting appears on the page next to it dated the day they got engaged and of their graduation. She wrote an entry.

It’s the day after and Calum is sleeping next to me. He asked me to marry him! I woke up and opened to this poem, fate has been on m side since that day we bumped into each other outside the CBS. He’s my dream I’ve dreamt of since I was a little girl. There are many great loves, but non are greater than mine and his. I felt a flicker in my glow just now…excitement? You’re starting to mumble in your sleep my love, time to wake you up and celebrate our life of forever.

Calum stares at her phrase of ‘flicker in my glow’ did she somehow know about the accident before it even happened? Why else would it flicker? He shifts his gaze to her chest and the red glow is still there, still faint, but no sign of flickering.

Six Weeks Later

Calum is dreaming. Somewhere in his mind, he knows it but won’t wake. He and Rose are at the Dainty Dove. She’s leaning against him in their regular booth with his arm around her shoulders as they share a cup of coffee. She smiles like her familiar rose and rainwater smell; Moonlight Serenade by Frank Sinatra plays softly in the background from the jukebox. Their song from their very first date and they’re the only ones in the joint.

“It’s almost time,” she says twisting her fingers with his.

“Time for what?” he kisses her hair, breathing her in.

“The rain…it’s coming here. I am too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come dance,” she whispers and then suddenly they’re dancing.

The room darkens as clouds roll over outside the restaurant. Calum watches over Rose’s head through the windows in confusion. Rose touches his cheek and he looks down at her.

“Promise me something,” she says.

“Anything.”

“Be patient with me. The rain is coming,” she whispers, and his dream self is befuddled as she leans up on her toes, lips brushing his, “and I’m in close proximity.”

Just before her lips touch his, the rain falls heavily, and her voice lingers in his mind when he wakes up. Just like in his dream, the rain is hitting the windows harshly much like it has been for the last six weeks. The weatherman are calling it an unnatural weather phenomenon and have no real answer for the source of all the rain.

He checks that the time is 4:37 a.m. He rubs his eyes then jerks to a sitting position because Rose’s chest is glowing a burning red with much more strength. It isn’t dim at all, it’s vibrant and strong.

“Rose?!” his legs get tangled in the hospital sheets as he turns on the lights and he swears he sees her eyelashes twitch. “Rosie, baby?” he takes her hand. “Can you hear me? I’m right here, in prox…”

Calum swallows harshly then snatches up his Michael Faudet book opening to the poem titled ‘Proximity.’ He reads the prose quickly about joining the dots from A to B, empty shores and the sea and everything else in between all the way to the end.

‘For what’s real is meant to be, when two hearts beat—in proximity.’

Rose’s finger twitches against his and Calum’s heart skyrockets.

“Rose?” he whispers in shock. “Come on sweetheart, open your eyes for me. I’m right here. I’m here and I love you so much.” He gasps when the orange glow in his chest brightens and her does as well from his proclamation of love. Tears spring in his eyes then two more fingers twitch. “Rose, I’m here. I love you; I love you, come back to me, Rosie.”

Their glows blaze brighter still, something beeps but Calum pays it no mind because Rose’s eyes flutter for a few seconds and then open. Calum stares in astonishment, oh how he’s missed those ocean eyes.

“Rose?” he whispers. She blinks heavily and he’s smashing the nurse’s call button. “She’s awake! Jane! She’s opened her eyes!” he shouts into the speaker then takes her hand in both of his. Happy tears are falling down his cheeks as she comes to. “Hi sweetheart, I’m right here, you’re okay.”

She tries to focus on him, her mouth tries to open to speak but then she chokes on the feeding tube and he panics. He starts shouting some more for help then Jane and Dr. Robbins rush in. They’re quick to remove the tube and fix the alarms screaming on the machines. Jane pushes Calum gently out of the way so they can work, and other nurses arrive in the room.

“Rose, I’m Dr. Robbins,” Dr. Robbins speaks very slowly and clearly, as if she’s talking to a child. “You’re in the hospital and were in an accident. You’ve been asleep for a while but you’re okay.” She flashes a light in her eyes. “Good. Can you blink twice if you understand me?”

Calum watches in amazement as Rose blinks once…then twice ever so slowly. He could leap for joy.

“That’s good,” Dr. Robbins smiles warmly, “You’ve been in a coma for some time so things may be fuzzy. Are you in pain? Blink once for no and twice for yes.”

Rose blinks twice and Calum’s heart plummets. Has she been in silent pain all this time?

“Jane can help with that, she’s your nurse,” Dr. Robbins smiles again. “I’m going to do some quick tests okay?”

While Dr. Robbins does her testing Calum’s fingers are flying as he texts everyone in excitement. He would call but he can’t take his eyes off Rose and it’s extremely early in the morning. He didn’t want to alarm them in a panic when it was actually good news.

***

A few days have gone by, Calum watches silently as Rose goes through more tests to see how well her reflexes are and her strength. Calum only leaves when he gets a phone call from their friends or his mom to give them updates and share their excitement of her finally being awake. Her eyes are always on him with a twinge of confusion in her dark blue eyes. When she speaks, it’s soft and raspy but it’s the voice of angels to Calum. He’s missed her voice so much.

“I know you want to be alone with him, but I have to make sure you’re all right. He won’t go anywhere, I promise,” Dr. Robbins chuckles while she watches the orthopedic doctor check Rose’s leg.

Calum hopes she’ll be able to get the mechanical thing off her now and they can work on physical therapy so she can walk. He knows her recovery process is going to be long and strenuous. She’s been in a coma for six weeks; her body is stiff and probably feels weird to her, but Calum will be with her every step of the way.

Calum takes a step forward, smile on his face at being acknowledged by Dr. Robbins. Rose’s brows furrow in a concerned v.

“Who is he?”

The rain stops, and the clouds part to reveal a bright sun that shines in Rose’s eyes. The bad weather has ceased, and Calum should be happy that the light of his life is back, but a new storm has arrived as Rose stares at Calum like she’s never seen him before in her life.

• • • •

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[mosaic-system]

Hfhdj hello!! I just wanna say ur blog seems rly nice and it's rly helpful, which is why i'm sendign this wah,, my best friend just figured out that he probably has did !! Ive met some of the alters in their system and I love them all,,, Ive been as supportive as I can but I was wondering if u had any advice on how to make sure they feel rly accepted and loved! Again ur blog is super nice aaaa have a good day !!

Aww this warms my heart 💜 I will start this by saying each system (and alter for that matter) is different and will have their own view on what supportive looks like!

That being said, we CAN tell you our experience or at least what we think supported/supportive, as well as some red flags to look out for that you may need to take a step back/the system is being toxic to you(because that can be true)

1. No alter is purely evil, they may act out but it’s because they’ve been hurt before in the past

🟥 An alter’s abuse should never be okay, and every other alter should take charge of whatever consequences may come of another alter’s bad behavior, no “it wasn’t me it was my alter!” See system responsibility

🔴 (for systems) it is your responsibility as a system to not abuse anyone else, not taking responsibility for your or another alter’s actions is being just as bad as the person who abused you. And yes, it is that serious.

2. Don’t willfully try and trigger out alters, if they tell you their triggers, even if the triggers are “positive” it’s still not a great experience for any alters involved.

2 1/2. Don’t ask the person who is fronting if someone else can front instead, it’s like showing up to a gathering and someone going “uh can you leave I wanted to see your sister instead” like no I’m here wtf)

3. Treat them as separate people, even though they look to you like facets of the host they are in their own sense people

4. Generally it’s a respectful thing to ask “who’s fronting?” (Don’t ask “who are you right now?”because, “I’m always me?” Is almost guaranteed to be the answer)

4 1/2. You may not always get a straightforward answer, sometimes switches take a long time and we can be a bit blendy, this doesn’t make their DID invalid.

5. NEVER ASK ABOUT WHAT THEIR TRAUMA WAS unless they tell you willingly, it’s private information and because of the DID chances are whoever you’re talking to doesn’t know the full story because...that’s how it works..?

6. Stay calm through switches. Sometimes they can take hours sometimes they can take minutes. Don’t try and rush them out of it because chances are you’ll make it worse. Don’t touch them unless you have gotten consent previously as it can be triggering, and don’t try to snap them out of their dissociation, just be patient with them.

6 1/2. When a new alter switches in depending on how good the system communication is (in your case if your friends is just finding out it’s probably not great as it takes a lot of work and time to get good communication) most likely the alter will be very disoriented and fearful. Best thing to do is pretend like a friend nervously just walked into the room, tell them that they’re in a safe place, introduce yourself, let them know what’s going on and where you are.

🟥 if they try to get you involved in innerworld/system drama, RUN. Taking sides with a persons different identities isn’t helpful, if they are asking for advice please direct them to a mental health professional. Anything else you do will result in worse communication between alter with the person and will put you on a bad side with a part of the system.

🔴(for systems) It’s toxic as someone with DID to try and rope someone into innerworld drama, it’s not their business and it’s going to hurt the relationship between you and them.

6 1/4. IF THEY TELL YOU SOME NEGATIVE TRIGGERS PLEASE TRY TO AVOID THEM AS BEST YOU CAN, pretty self explanatory, this is a disorder that has to be formed in trauma, and they can and probably will have a flashback which is a horrible situation for all parties involved. Just don’t do it.

7. Littles and teen alters are not adults pretending to be children and teenagers, they really have that mindset. Don’t expect them to act like an adult and treat them as though they are the age they present as

7 1/2. DO NOT EXPOSE TEEN ALTERS OR CHILD ALTERS TO ADULT CONTENT THEY ARE NOT ADULTS this should be a no brainer for most but it needs to be said just to be clear

8. I definitely recommend they seek professional treatment if they can, as close and supportive of a friend you may be, you cannot substitute the treatment of a trained professional. This will not only create a better foundation for system communication and healing and coping with living as a system. It can also create a concrete diagnosis and rule out any other potential factors and/or explain if there are any other comorbidities (BPD, MDD, Bipolar etc can be comorbid with DID but require different treatment than DID)

9. There is a lot of terminology out there for DID/OSDD. Check what the community uses but if they say they don’t like a certain word or phrase, don’t use it.

10. Finally BEING CLOSE TO SOMEONE WITH DID CAN BE EMOTIONALLY TAXING, BE AWARE OF HOW YOU YOURSELF ARE DOING. It’s okay that they are that way and it’s okay to step back and take a break. this is a person that’s been through a lot and is likely not in a stable place, it’s okay if you yourself need to take a step back and rejuvenate. As I love to say, “you cannot pour from an empty cup, fill your’s up first”

Take care of yourself first friend and you will be able to support so much better ❤️

This is all I can think of at the moment, I’m sure I’m missing a few things and other DID/OSDD systems feel free to add on if you guys have any other things you’d like this person to know

Hope it helps!

[mystyrust]

Fracture - Ectober 2020

Day 2 Prompt: Bones / Pulse  

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203635

Word Count:  2387

Tags: Past torture, identity reveal

There were many ways Maddie liked to spend her weekend. When her kids were younger, she and Jack would take them out to museums or parks – a family outing. Now that her kids are in high school and have a lot of homework, they don’t go out every weekend anymore. In fact, it feels like they haven’t had time to bond as a family in months. Jazz is always in the library and Danny is always with his friends – sometimes even sleeping over – or catching up on missed homework. Maddie could never figure out why Danny had a backlog of homework to catch up on, yet always had time to hang out with Sam and Tucker.

Now, with her kids spending all their free time by themselves, Maddie liked to spend her free time in her lab, creating and improving her inventions to catch the elusive ghost Phantom. It had been around the time that Phantom appeared that Danny and Jazz became more distant – while both her children were in support of the ghost vigilante, Maddie and Jack were against it, devoting their free time into solving the mystery of what made Phantom different from every other ghost that haunted Amity Park. They wanted to catch it, run experiments with it, and dissect it.

So this weekend was like any other – Maddie was huddled in her lab with Jack, working out the schematics of a new invention – when their Fenton Ghost Detector beeped; a strong ecto-signature was detected inside the Fenton household. This was normal if the ghost came out of the Fenton portal – this signature came from… the living room. Maddie and Jack ran up to find Phantom having stumbled through the front door, leaking ectoplasm behind it.

“What do you think you’re doing here, spook?!” Jack raised his ecto gun at the intruder, his large frame standing in between Maddie and the ghost. But Phantom was in no shape to fight.

“I… I need help,” The ghost managed to gasp out. Maddie paused in confusion. The ghost had tears streaming down its face, heavy breathing, and ectoplasm leaking down one limp arm. It’s mimicking of human physiology was fascinating. And to come to ghost hunters for help? Either this was a trap, or it wasn’t thinking straight.

“The..guys in…white… barely got away from them,” Phantom continued to explain. Maddie noticed him sway where he stood. And that was the weird part – he stood. Not floated. And he had legs, instead of a spectral tail.

“Please, before they… finish me… like they did…”

Jack lowered his ecto gun ever so slightly – not lowering his guard, but still confused about what to do. It was odd, seeing the always confident Phantom reduced to pleading and begging its former enemies. Something in his psyche was so shattered from his experience with the GIW…

Maddie didn’t know what to make of that, but she couldn’t waste a perfectly good opportunity when it knocked phased right through her front door.

“Let’s… let’s stabilize him for now,” Maddie said, lowering Jack’s aim. “Then we can ask him what happened. And decide what to do after that,”

Jack nodded in agreement. He gingerly placed his ectogun down, approaching Phantom with both is hands up and in front.

“We’ll help you, spook,” Jack spoke loud and purposefully. “But we’ll need to take you down to the lab to do that,” Phantom nodded slightly, and Jack took that as permission to walk up to the ghost. Phantom was… he wasn’t heavy but Jack wasn’t expecting the ghost to be as solid and corporeal as he was. He lifted the ghost in his arms, and followed Maddie down to the basement.

The ghost offered little resistance, but he was breathing heavily, and leaking a concerning amount of ectoplasm from his limp arm and one of his legs. It must be difficult to keep up the charade of struggling to breathe, when he’s lost as much ectoplasm as he has, Maddie thinks.

They place him on an examination table, with Maddie grabbing a scanner and running it over his damaged arm.

“Jack…” Her voice shuddered, “His arm is… it’s fractured.”

“What? That makes no sense, he doesn’t even have…bones…” but the scanner showed Jack exactly that.

There were a million and one questions that ghosted Maddie’s lips: How did you get bones? Do other ghosts also have bones? Where do the bones in your body go when you form a spectral tail? Are your bones made of calcium, just like human bodies? But the words that left her mouth were:

“You have bones?”

All her years of academic study, her dual MD/PhD, wasted on a Captain Obvious™ moment.

“Yeah, no duh,” Phantom cracked an eye open, while the rest of his face continued to grimace. “And it hurts…like hell…” There was that snarky teenaged attitude the Fentons were so familiar with.

“How do we even treat this?” Jack asked. One of Phantom’s legs was badly muddled – peeling the suit back revealed deep and numerous gashes. He was losing ounces of ectoplasm a second, and if these injuries were on a human, he’d need blood transfusion and stitches.

“Well, we can supplement ectoplasm to help his healing factor. And then…” Maddie gulped. “Stitch the leg. And set the arm.”

Maddie went to the back of the lab, returning with a set of tools. Scalpels, needles, and bandages. The glint of the metal must have caught Phantom’s eyes – how was he still conscious? A human with this much blood loss would not be awake right now – and the ghost started hyperventilating.

“What are you –? No, please! Please don’t! I wasn’t – !”

“Phantom! We’re helping you!” Jack yelled back. Phantom stared at Jack, eyes fogging over and breathing uneven.

“I’m sorry I never…I should have told you sooner,” Phantom cried. It was an ugly cry, from a body and heart in pain. Maddie didn’t know what else to call it. What kind of guilt could be eating Phantom alive, from the inside?

“I can’t –” Phantom grunted. “I can’t change back! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I should have –”

“How about we help you first, then you tell us what you should have told us when your arm and leg are better?”

Phantom, still sniffling, nodded silently.

Maddie set to work with putting stitches on his leg, while Jack hooked an IV of purified ectoplasm. She looped phase proof thread – from Jack’s Fenton Fishing Pole – onto a surgical needle, and set to work, closing one of the many wounds. Since the wound was deep, Maddie needed to stitch the inner layers first, before sewing the outer layers shut. She was marveled at the level of detail in this ghosts’ body – maybe she could ask him about that when he was healed up.

It was strange that only one leg was injured, while the other leg looked fine. It was stranger how Phantom’s breathing and crying hitched every time her needle pierced his flesh.

“Phantom, can you –? Can you feel the needle as I –?”

“Mhmm,” Phantom managed to grunt, tears freely flowing from his eyes. “Please hurry, Mom.”

Maddie froze in her tracks. Why did he even –? Okay calm down.

He can feel pain. He can display emotion. He can appear delusional with loss of bodily fluids. And in that delusion, he seeks a parental figure.

He has the psyche of a child, her rational mind concludes. So she’ll play that part.

“Almost,…Almost done, sweetie.” Maddie responds hesitantly. “You’re doing great.”

As for the feeling pain part, she isn’t how drugs can affect a ghost – and she can’t take a chance that Phantom will react badly to some experimental medication they use on him. She can only hope that he passes out at some point, and doesn’t feel any pain for the remainder of the procedure. From watching previous footage of his battles in chronological order, Maddie had concluded that Phantom has a fast healing factor. She can only hope that healing factor is still fast. He’ll be fine.

Funny how in the course of an hour, she stopped thinking of Phantom from an “it” and started to think of Phantom as a “he”

It took thirty more minutes of verbal coaxing and soothing for Maddie to finish stitching Phantom’s leg. He promptly passed out when that was done. While Phantom was asleep, Jack finished bandaging the arm, adding a splint to keep it straight.

Finally, with ghostly patient asleep and treated, Maddie and Jack sat down, exhausted.

“Well, I never thought – ” Jack paused, unsure how to word it. They learned more about Phantom’s physiology today than ever before, and he broke every known convention about ghosts that they’d researched thus far. Not to mention a ghost turning to a ghost hunter for help.

“I want to take a sample of his ectoplasm while we can,” Maddie said. “But he might not have enough to spare. And I have a feeling that we’ll get more questions than answers under the microscope, too.”

“You’re right,” Jack agreed. “I wonder what he went through, for him to be as injured as he was and decide to come to us, of all people. Heh, Danny and Jazz would freak.”

“Well, Danny’s sleeping over at Sam’s again, and Jazz was tutoring someone else this weekend.” Maddie mused. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Phantom stayed here for a few days without them even knowing.” It hurt her to know how detached her children had become from her, and it hurt her to know that her assessment of the situation was objectively correct – Jazz and Danny were rarely home.

“Well, he mentioned the guys in white,” Jack said. “If they are the ones who did this to him, and we protect him from those guys, we can earn his trust. And then maybe he’ll let his guard down enough for us to …at least solve the mystery of what he is.”

The two scientists stare at the sleeping form of Phantom, noticing how even in a seemingly unconscious state, his chest rises and falls with each breath.

“With his consent, I suppose,” Jack added.

_

A few hours later, in the middle of dinner, Maddie and Jack are interrupted to rude knocking from their front door.

“Ugh, not another door to door salesman,” Jack grunted. Answering the door revealed that their rude guests were none other than

“GIW,” an agent dressed in white answered, holding up an identification badge. There were two agents, both equipped with ecto guns and headphones, Maddie noted.

“Yes, we can see that,” Jack responded, keeping the shock out of his face. “If you wanted to come over for dinner, you should have called earlier. We don’t have leftovers.”

“We came to inform you that Phantom has escaped our captivity,”

“We didn’t even know you had Phantom in captivity,” Jack raised his brows in surprise.

“Just a few hours of questioning. We underestimated his abilities, and his allies.” The agent continued. “We’ll need extra weapons, the latest of whatever you’ve developed.”

“Well, we don’t have anything, since we gave you everything we made last time,” Maddie interjected. “So we don’t have anything complete yet. And besides, wouldn’t it have been faster for you to send an email or announcement that Phantom escaped? You must have lost a lot of time driving around to come tell us in person.”

“You never know who could be listening.”

“And besides,” the agent in the back added, “There was a chase. We don’t know where he disappeared to, but we suspect he stopped by here.”

“And why do you think he stopped by here?” Jack was very good at keeping the caution out of his voice, Maddie noted. If it were her, their cover would have probably been blown by now.

“Isn’t it weird for a ghost to hide out at a ghost hunter’s house?”

“True, but the same ghost uses technology he stole from a ghost hunter, and he can go into the ghost zone from the portal in your basement,” This was nothing new to Maddie. In fact, it annoyed her that Phantom used Fenton tech, because it meant he somehow evaded ghost detectors in their home to acquire it, or it was handed to him directly by Danny or Jazz. That last one hurt the most; she couldn’t bear the thought of her children going behind her back to support someone who was the very antithesis of everything they stood for.

Or, someone who used to be that. Maddie isn’t sure how she feels about Phantom now, but at the very least, she doesn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“Well, we’ve been home all day, and our equipment didn’t detect anything. But if we find anything new, we’ll call.” Jack told the two agents.

“Alright, stay on alert!” The first agent said, before leaving. Jack closed the front door, and the two waited until they saw the agents sit in their vehicle and drive off, before moving from their spot. Thank goodness they didn’t come inside or into the lab; the lab’s high ectoplasmic content could somewhat mask Phantom’s signature, and could be explained as a false positive on ghost detecting radars, but they wouldn’t be able to hide an unconscious ghost – an unconscious ghost! How wild is that?! – if the agents wound up downstairs.

Maddie breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s been a few hours, let’s check on him”

Maddie and Jack headed downstairs to their lab. Just as they had left him, Phantom was sleeping on the examination table, hooked to an IV of ectoplasm. The fracture on his arm looked like it would heal completely – the naturally cool body temperature of the ghost helped, along with his quick healing factor. His leg looked significantly better, though Maddie wasn’t sure if the stitches would leave behind scars.

Maddie pulled a notebook from the work table, adding and updating her notes with everything they’d learned about Phantom today.

“Can ghosts get scars?” Maddie mused out loud. “Or is it unique to him?”

“I dunno, I guess we’ll have to ask –”

Their conversation is interrupted by a groan – Phantom was waking up – followed by a flash of bright white light. The Fentons covered their eyes, and when the light died down, they’re met with even more questions than answers.

“Danny?!”

[liveyourlastbreath]

Slipping PT 3

A broken leg, a sprained ankle, crack ribs, a fractured arm, and a brain bleed. 

Neil Josten was the miracle kid, he shouldn't have survived. Though he had tried to land on his legs, the way he flipped around in the air had only made the landing worse. For three days, it seemed like Neil wouldn't make it, but one surgery later and he was stabilized, but not awake. Seven days passed, however, with Neil being completely unconscious and under heavy monitoring. It's unbelievable, the doctor had said, he shouldn't be recovering this fast. Nicky joked it was because Neil wanted to be back on the court as soon as possible, which received halfhearted laugh from Renee and then a punch to the gut from Andrew. 

Andrew. He hadn’t  left the hospital since day four, when the Doctor finally caved under his knife and Wymack had given up trying to keep the twin at his place.

The rest of the team had been coming in and out, trying to leave flowers and cards that Andrew always ended up throwing away. (Kevin's flower's hadn't even made it into the room. Andrew shoved them in Kevin's face and then slammed the room door shut.) Andrew had only let the Doctors get close to him, anyone who so much as looked at Neil too long was escorted out with two separate knives. Andrew "I don't give a shit" Minyard most certainty did give a shit, and he was making it well known to the team. 

Renee was the only one that had been allowed to stay longer than ten minutes. Mostly, she sat in silence, studying Andrew's growing eye bags and tense shoulders. Once she had tried to say something, but the words had died in her throat when Andrew brought his hands up to his own face and shuddered. Needless to say, she left him and Neil alone not long after that. 

On day ten of Neil being unconscious, Andrew came into the room with the thick smell of cigarettes following him. Nciky, Renee, Allison, and Kevin were all strewn around the room, in the same place they were when he left. His face was stoic, but the atmosphere he brought with him was bone-chilling. "Out." He hissed, the venom in his voice almost knocking Kevin over. 

They were out in less than thirty seconds, only Renee hesitating at the door and then closing it softly. Andrew scowled at Neil, then took a seat near the window and folded his arms. His mind flicked back to the conversation they had had freshman year, thinking back on it now was making his blood boil. 

"Give me one good reason to not push you off the side."

"I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

Goddammit. He had been right, Andrew would never admit, but Neil had been goddamn right. It was a long way down, and only his fear had stopped Andrew from going over the edge with the Junkie. “I hate you.” Andrew spit out, clenching his hands tight against his side and pushing off the wall. “I hate you so much.” 

As usual, no response. Neil only laid there, eyes softly closed and breathing calm. Andrew glanced down at Neil’s arm, which had an IV nestled between two long scars, and scowled once more. The Doctor had asked how this had happened, his scars, and Andrew gave the asshole a nice, long slice down the arm for talking out of turn. They were not to ask about Neil, about his past or about Andrew. 

They simply had to heal him enough so they could leave, so Andrew could take him home and gut him himself. 

Andrew turned, but this time kept his left side facing the man. Deep down, whether he realized it or not, he would never turn his back to Neil again. Because he was scared, scared of him slipping away only to never return.

“Asshole.” Andrew spit, going to take a seat near the window. 

“Drew...?” The blonde froze, not even daring to look at Neil. He had to have imagined it, Neil wasn’t- “N’Drew, what happened?” 

“You fell off the roof.” Andrew muttered, turning to Neil and shoving his hands in his pockets. The feel of the cigarette box offered him no comfort. Neil’s eyes were hardly open, but Andrew could make out a small sliver of blue underneath his auburn eyelashes. 

“Right,” Neil looked away from Andrew, and around the room. “I’m in a hospital.” Andrew wanted to break Neil, right then and there. His sanity was on the brink, and if Neil kept talking Andrew would slip over the edge as well. 

“Shut up.” Neil looked back to Andrew, and grinned softly. 

“Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.” 

“I said shut the hell up.” Andrew ground out, stepping so he was at Neil’s bedside. Neil looked up at him, then reached for Andrew’s arm with his uninjured one. The man stopped just before his fingers brushed against the concealed blades, remembering, even in his state of delirium. Andrew grabbed onto Neil’s wrist, placed it back down on the bed and held onto it. 

God, did he hold on. “I hate you.” 

“I get that a lot.” Neil hummed out, running his thumb over Andrew’s cracking knuckles. “Yes or no?” 

“No.” Neil looked downright shattered at Andrew’s denial, gripping onto his hand tighter and attempting to sit up. Andrew watched him, and helped him back down the moment he realized his mistake. 

“Drew,” Neil cried, holding onto he blonde a little tighter. “Drew, it...it hurts.” 

“Then don’t be stupid, Junkie.” Andrew carefully and meticulously looked Neil over, and then move him over and laid down next to him. 

“Yes?” 

“No.” Neil was in no way, shape, or form able to give consent right now. But after a minute, he seemed content with Andrew’s arms wrapped carefully around Neil’s shoulders, and being pressed into the blonde’s chest. “If you do that again, I’m not going to get you.” 

Neil shuddered, holding onto Andrew a little tighter. “M’ sorry.” He cried, tears welling up in his eyes. “I didn’t wanna fall. You’re scared of falling, so am I.” Andrew didn’t respond, he could have, but didn’t. Instead, he hugged Neil’s fragile body as close as he dared and pulled the blanket up over them. 

Neil sobbed into Andrew’s chest, a groan of pain slipping it’s way through his lips every now and then. “It’s worse ‘han Baltimore.” Neil whimpered out. “Broken bones...hurt more than broken skin.” 

“Shut. Up.” Andrew ran a hand gingerly over the bandage on Neil’s head. Neil reached up with his unbroken arm and linked his fingers with Andrew’s, and then met his eyes. 

“I remember.” Andrew’s body went ridged, but Neil didn’t seem to notice. “Laying on the cement, I-I watched you run towards me.” Neil dropped his gaze to just past Andrew’s shoulder. “You screamed my name.” 

“Go to sleep.” The blonde did not want to talk about this anymore. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He just wanted Neil to heal faster so they could leave. In time he would, he would heal and go back to the Court as if nothing had happened. 

And Andrew would heal too. Despite his fear of heights, him and Neil would in time, find themselves on the roof again. Smoking, kissing, talking, it would be okay. 

Then when the time came for Andrew to leave Neil, to forge his own path while Neil stayed in school, they would be okay.

They would be okay. 

End 

PT 1

PT 2

PT 3 (You are here) 

[mysticmilks]

Kylux - Incubus/Demon hunter

Chapter 1: Hunting

[Chapter 1 (part I, part II), Chapter 2 (part I, part II, part III), Chapter 3 (part I, part II, part III), Chapter 4(part I, part II, part III, part IV), Chapter 5 (part I, part II, part III)]

Ben swallowed cheap tequila and put an empty plastic shot on the counter. The popular electronic music was busting from badly tuned speakers. Drunk students were laughing, talking loudly, and dancing around him. He paid zero attention to them. They all were just a distraction from his goal. His mission. His chance to finally prove himself.

His mentor Luke, who was also his uncle, had told him so many frustrating times that he hadn’t been ready. His mom, one of the leaders of their Order, had told him he hadn’t been ready too. Today he would show that they all were wrong.

Ben was in the middle of the party in a frat house. He had been looking for his target for the last few weeks and tracked him—Ben was pretty sure the demon was disguised as male— to the Arkanis University campus. It was one of the oldest and the most prestigious establishments in the country. It had a long and proud history full of traditions, prominent alumni, and famous professors. The smartest kids dreamed to get into Arkanis.

Ben would never guess that by looking at the drunk half-naked dancing in this place that reeked of cheap alcohol and weed.

Earlier today, the location crystal had pointed to this house. Well, thinking about it now, Ben must admit that it was a logical place for a hungry incubus to set his hunting base.

He wanted to leave. The place was charged with emotions. Viscous emotions — dull lust, drug-induced anxiety, jealousy. The music was too loud. The headache started to form at his temples.

He turned his head and felt the demon in the room. It was like tingling in his mind, and—because of the nature of the demon—a barely noticeable heat in his lower belly. Everyone was unnaturally aroused around an incubus on a hunt — a fact that Ben had learned, preparing for this mission. This type of demon was feeding sexual energy. They were, quite literally, sex vampires, draining their victims during copulation.

Ben looked around. The space was fully packed with sweating, sexy dressed students. Anyone could be an incubus. Ben’s gaze stopped on the dark-haired maiden who was dressed like an early 00’ pop-star — mini-skirt, crop-top too tight for her boobs, high-boots, and even sparkling choker. It might be her, but Ben's research had pointed to a male.

Ben turned his attention at a jock, who was showing off his muscles to a group of girls. He was radiating sexual energy and even without Ben's senses it was obvious how predatory he was looking at young drunk ladies near him. Ben stood up to get closer to him, but loud crude laughter distracted him from the potential incubus.

He turned his head and saw a handsome man who must have been in his last year or a grad student. He was stylishly dressed, had perfectly combed blond hair, and an expensive watch. The was something malicious in him, but probably not unnatural — just a rich kid, who thought that the world belonged to him, and didn't care about the rest of the commoners. The blond guy was pouring a drink to someone, while two other frat bros near him were snickering and telling jokes, gesticulating theatrically.

Ben peered over their shoulders and saw a guy whom they were getting drunk. He was cute, even too cute for this kind of party — he looked like a person who spends his time in the library instead of such places. He was dressed in a checked buttoned-up shirt and light slacks, his red hair in disarray as if someone messed with it recently. He was very young. Probably a freshman. Definitely not allowed to drink, or be here.

Ben kept watching them, knowing too well what was going on. He wasn't naive. Even though Ben hadn't gone to the regular high school or college, he'd seen enough. The guys kept pouring him drinks, and the poor boy giggled louder, while their hands were getting more frivolous.

The handsome rich man hugged ginger’s shoulder and tried to draw him upstairs. It was not Ben’s business, he reminded himself, clutching his fists. He was here for the incubus, and the incubus was somewhere nearby — Ben felt it in the air.

On the stairs, the boy, who'd be marked as a ginger twink in movies for adult, stumbled and almost fell, crashing into the chest of one of the guys, and gasping weakly. The guys were not discreetly looking at each other, clearly happy with the state of their victim.

“I think you should go outside and get some fresh air,” Ben found himself saying loudly. He came closer, staring at the ginger.

“Is that your nanny?” asked one of the jerks with nasty snickers. He put his hand on the ginger’s lower back, tugging him to himself, and glared at Ben.

“I see this man for the first time,” said the boy, sounding very drunk. “How are you?”

“Hey, fuck off,” the other jerk hissed at Ben. “He's fine. We’ll figure everything out ourselves.”

“I don’t want problems,” said Ben “But this guy is clearly not in the condition to give any kind of consent and—”

“Consent? What the fuck are you talking about?” said the handsome one, “We just showing Andy our house. Right?”

“Yeah,” agreed the ginger. Ben caught something in his green eyes, that he couldn’t explain but it disappeared almost immediately.

One of the jocks pulled ginger’s arm, making him lean to his chest and shoving the ginger up the staircase with his body.

The biggest one of them blocked the stairs, preventing Ben from moving any further.

The aura of incubus got extremely potent for the moment. That was Ben's chance. If he looked around he’d locate him, follow the guy, send him back to the depth of hell, and go back to his family proving himself worthy.

Instead, Ben kicked the huge guy in front of him in the knee, almost immediately pushing the handsome rich one in his chest. Ben had been trained his whole life, fighting human wasn't a challenge for him. It was easy for him to overpower those three tipsy jerks, without even hurting them much. Okay, he did hit the handsome a bit too hard in solar plexus, making him fold in half. Totally worth it, although if Ben's family saw it they’d lecture him about power and responsibility.

Everyone else at the party was looking at the brawl. Even the ginger seemed soberer now.

“Hey, let’s go outside,” Ben whispered.

The guy gazed around, looking conferred and upset, but nodded.

No one tried to stop them and they got to a nearby park.

“Better?” asked Ben, when he made the ginger drink from the water fountain. “Yes,” he said flatly.

“Do you need help getting home?”

“Do you want to go with me?” he sounded tipsy.

“I can order an uber for you.” Ben couldn’t babysit every cute drunk freshman, he had a job.

The guy looked at him as if Ben had the third eye, but then looked away.

“I will be fine,” and he turned around, striding in the dark.

Ben went back into the house. He expected problems but no one paid any attention to him. The guys he beat disappeared. The place reeked of the demon, but he seemed to disappear too. Ben moved upstairs. He heard lewd noises but didn’t feel the incubus anywhere.

It was disappointing. But Ben was a protector of the people, and he had done the right thing. He would catch the incubus the next time, and now he was sure that the incubus was in Arkanis.

[hawkland]

Dear Fandom5k Author

My AO3 account (sidewinder)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I’m excited to give this exchange a try for the first time and cannot wait to read what you can come up with for one of my requests. Please note I’d love any of them equally, no matter if I have more prompt ideas for one or the other. Some I seriously would love just about anything about since they are so rare, others I have more specific requests to scratch itches I haven’t seen written before (or that much.)

General Likes:

Soumates with a twist. I love soulmate/soulbond AUs, as long as it’s just not a shortcut to happily-ever, no-conflict fluff. I want there to be some difficulties or angst involved. For instance, I’d love seeing any fusion/inspired-by fics based off the concept of the AMC Soumates series - where there’s a newly-developed scientific test a person can choose to take to find their soulmate (if the other person out there has also taken the test). That way it’s a choice to find out or not. Would an already established couple want to take the test to find out if they’re really “meant” to be together or not? What if they find out other people are their “soulmates”? What about the possibility of platonic soulmates vs romantic? Discussions for the future if/when one partner dies before the other? I’d love to see these questions played out with one of my fave ships in either a  happy or somewhat angsty/dark way.

Vacation/travel stories. Being unable to travel this past year+ thanks to covid-19 has me desperate to explore and live vicariously through my favorite characters! So I’d love a story involving travel to somewhere new (to them). It could be a romantic getaway/honeymoon trip to somewhere special - and I love it when an author “takes me” to a favorite city/place of their own. Or two friends just going on an escapade together, maybe one sensing the other needs some time away from a stressful situation or workplace.

Smutty likes: I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, light restraint play, sharing-one-bed-for-~reasons~-ooops-how-did-we-wake-up-cuddling, bathing/caretaking an injured partner-turns-erotic, desperate/reunion sex.

Canon-divergent AUs - I’m always good with fix-its, shifts in canon that only change one thing and see what happens next or instead.

Do Not Wants:

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats. (I do like Supernatural fics that explore Castiel and the angels having bird-like behaviors and instincts, however.)

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth/kidfic (except for Jack in SPN)

formalized BDSM relationships

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/mundane/genderswap/coffee shop/fantasy/etc. There are a few ships/groups where I would enjoy specific AUs, and those are outlined below.

Completely sad endings/permanent character death or injury that isn’t part of canon

Rape/non-con between requested characters. Dubious consent is fine in situations like magic spells/possession/fuck-or-die, however.

Supernatural

AU - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Fix-it fic, Interpersonal Drama, Smut, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, Worldbuilding, Horror

In general for SPN, I love canon-divergence AUs at pretty much any point in time (especially as they kept having so many dumb reasons in canon to keep Dean & Cas apart just when one or the other seriously needed support or TLC!) I’m okay with post-series Heaven fics as well as canon fix-its/completely ignoring the finale, and I like exploring both human!Cas as endgame or Cas keeping/getting his full angelic grace back (which is a slight preference to me, as he repeatedly seemed to genuinely value/want to be an angel? But exploring all possibilities in fic is cool for me.)

I’m a sucker for Castiel Whump/hurt!Cas in general, so long as the author remembers Cas is a bad ass and not just a baby in a trenchcoat. If he’s going to suffer, I want him to suffer stoically until he just cannot keep up the facade any longer.  

SPN-specific DNWs: mentions/implications of Wincest, past or present; extreme bashing/characterization of John and Mary Winchester, or Jimmy Nowak, as homophobic. 

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Give me all the finale fix-it fics - no I’m still not over it, I’m still happy to read any new twist on how Cas got out of the Empty and got back together with Dean (and Sam). If Dean still dies early/ends up in Heaven, I’d like a story that explores what happens when one gets bored of peace-and-happiness-ever-after. (Yes, I’m a big fan of The Good Place and as such it makes me wonder if eternity with no conflict and everything you could ever want would just melt your brain and identity after a few millennia.) So what then?

I’m also stealing a Tumblr rant as a prompt I’d love to read, if you want to get into some good dirty smut:

ive had it up to here with fictional gays being like “i love you and if all i can ever have is that knowledge it’s enough for me” we need more “i have been struck down by horny insanity and i beg you to fuck me once. i’ve had three smirnoff ices and i’m gonna be crazy now. we can pretend it didn’t happen i don’t give a shit just gimme daddy’s blunt instrument” it’s more realistic [x]

Um so yeah. I’d love an au where, anywhere along the line when it’s been their/someone’s/the universe’s life on the life, Cas takes the initiative decides they’re gonna have crazy sex even if it’s just once before the end of the world/we die. But then, oops, we’ve survived, now we have to deal with it. ...Please?

For something different, maybe more romantic/fluffy, I’d really love a vacation/getaway story here, since they never really got anything like that of substance on the show. I want to see Cas take Dean somewhere beautiful and amazing in the world he’s never gotten to see before. Show him there’s more than just greasy diners and the landscape of America to enjoy and experience. If you want, they could stumble on a case/haunting/monster from another part of the world while they’re at it...but I just really want to see Dean having some mind-opening and expanding experiences beyond what’s he’s known and seen so far in life.

In specific with Cas/Dean + Sam, I love another tumblr idea I saw recently where Sam totally keeps bringing up the idea of “Sastiel” as a fun joke between him and Cas, and Cas plays along, and it drives Dean up the wall. Cas has to just keep re-assuring Dean that no, he doesn’t see Sam that way...but why does it bother Dean so much? A.k.a. Dean has to finally own up to the fact that it bothers him because he wants Cas to feel that way about him.

Castiel (Supernatural)

I just love Cas, period, end of story, he’s my One True Character of SPN. I love any stories that try to explore him more fully—be it his relationships in the past with other angels and being a BAMF commander/warrior of Heaven, or what specifically it is that keeps him so tied to the Winchesters. I love stories that feature his true-form in some fashion or try to dig into the alien/different nature of angels vs. humans.

Also, another Tumblr-musing-turned-prompt (I lost who posted it, sorry!) I'd love to see explored in a canon divergence fic focused on Cas. Specifically: 

"I would have loved an arc for Cas (after he got his grace back) where he wanted to help people, like he was helped. Spending time in soup kitchens or healing people, and through that developing a sense of self purpose, leading to his grace replenishing unexpectedly. Sort of fulfilling the traditional angel role (as we know it nowadays) by replacing his faith in heaven/dean with faith in himself, to redefine himself as a protector of humanity instead of heaven's soldier."

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Jimmy Novak Group: Castiel & Jimmy Novak

We know Cas carried a lot of guilt for what happened to Jimmy and his whole family. So I'm interested in a post-finale, canon-compliant (I guess?) fic where Cas tries to reconcile things with Jimmy in Heaven. Maybe Jimmy & Amelia were one of his first "projects" or test cases in trying to build a new and better Heaven with Jack? (And it's what he was so busy with while Dean was still alive.) Or, is it weird in Heaven with Cas and Jimmy looking so similar? Does Cas still fight doubts as to whether Dean really loves him, or just desires this body/form that isn’t his own?

Otherwise, I've been thinking about Endverse!Cas, who had lost his grace/powers as the angels have all left and abandoned humankind. What happened to/where is Jimmy in all of that? (If we go by the canon that Jimmy was not killed, nor went to Heaven, until the end of Season 5, when Lucifer blew up that vessel and Cas was resurrected by Chuck.) Are they now two "mortal men"/souls trapped sharing one body? Is that why Cas is so messed up/always seeking an escape through drugs and sex? (Besides of course Dean having changed so much.) This is one prompt where I don’t mind a very dark/not-so-happily-ever-after ending.

The Police

Angst, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Humor, Interpersonal Drama, Smut

Group: Sting/Stewart Copeland

Yeah I’ll always request these two together even though I know it’s a long shot to find anyone else as obsessed about them as I am. Really anything at all whatsoever would make me happy for this ship: Reunion Tour-era fic, early punk days before they grew successful, soulmate AUs...

I’d also love a spooky story where they’re on tour/on the road somewhere and end up in a haunted hotel. Or their tour bus/van breaks down in the middle of nowhere and they have to seek shelter in an abandoned house or farm or something...and supernatural weirdness ends up affecting them or bringing them together.

If you want to go the crack route: it wasn’t enough for Miles to take them all around the world to tour in “exotic” locations back in the day. He’s arranged for them now to go on the ultimate tour...of outer space and alien worlds.

Crossover Fandom

Action/Adventure, Character Development, Interpersonal Drama, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural

Group: Abe Morgan (Forever TV) & John Munch (L&O: SVU)

I’ve had a long running headcanon that these two could have been friends back in their respective 60s/early 70s hippie days. I’d love either a story set back then, “pre-canon”, or them running into each other in NYC later in life. Munch ending up in Abe’s antique shop, for instance, while on an investigation?  

Group: Dean Winchester (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone) Group: Castiel (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone)

I’m fascinated by the idea of crossing over these two canons. Even if there’s some conflict in their approach to Hell/Lucifer/demons, there’s still a lot in common. Dean & Ezekiel having both put in their time in Hell and being demon hunters, for instance, and their complicated relationships with (fallen) angels. I’d love to see them bonding over their experiences (Maybe they even meet in Hell? Time DOES work differently there…) Maybe somehow after Ezekiel completed his mission for the Devil, he did get his second chance at “life on Earth”…but the devil’s trick is that it’s not HIS Earth, it’s in a different dimension (Supernatural’s). I’m also curious how Ezekiel might respond to Castiel as an angel–perhaps he mistakes Cas for a demon at first, with his powers, but then they realize they are in fact hunting the same demon? Cas is stuck in an alternative dimension and recognizes Ezekiel as a similar soul to Dean’s, and seeks out his help?

Basically I’d love some kind of casefic/demon hunt here, with the characters bonding over their shared/similar past traumas, taking care of each other when/if injured on a hunt, and/or perhaps helping them sort out their complicated feelings for another (ie, background Cas/Dean and/or Zeke/the Devil are TOTALLY welcome here, as I ship both of those ships.)

Law & Order: SVU

Group: John Munch/Odafin "Fin" Tutuola

Character Development, Established Relationship, Humor, Getting Together, Interpersonal Drama, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, AU-Genre shift

Munch/Fin is one of my eternal OTPs so I’m always happy to see something new featuring them! I’m always good for procedural/case-fics. And this is one request where I’d love to read some AU-Genre or setting shift, reimagining the two in some other situations besides police work. I’ve always loved the idea of John hosting a conspiracy/weird news radio show or podcast, and Fin as someone completely skeptical but who gets wrapped up in one of John’s mysteries. Or John as the owner of a bar somewhere that Fin is one of his regulars, and over time their friendship develops/deepens into something more.

Supernatural RPF

Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles Established Relationship, Getting Together, Smut, Fluff, Slice of Life, Humor

It’s odd for me to be into an actor RPF fandom (I usually only fall for music/band-related ones), but what can I say...these two just make it almost impossible not to see the possibilities!

I was thinking I’d love something set post-Supernatural...their first time seeing each other again after a long time apart? (What with the show ending, covid, Misha’s surgery, etc etc.) Could be at a convention or maybe they get to go off on a getaway together somewhere private/romantic and it’s...kind of tense and maybe nervous/angsty at first? Like with doubts about whether they can/should go back to the way things were before.

Or: putting tin-hatty speculation about the “secret/real identity” of Alma Perpetua aside, I love their poetry and I’d love any “Cockles” fic using one of their poems as inspiration.

[psychopersonified]

KIdnapped!Q - Part 2

Continued from Part 1 here.

---------

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

-----------

Notes: The event told roughly from Bond's POV especially the first half. Plus the aftermath. This is me trying to get into Bond's head. Also, let's all get on Bond's case shall we? 

Towards the end, there is exposition of technical plot. I've tried to interject it with humour and also to use this opportunity for character development.

Some parts borrowed heavily from Spectre (movie) but does not take place in that universe.

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

Level 5 Lobbby, SIS (MI6) HQ

Kneeling beside Q in the Level 5 lobby of MI6 HQ, Bond vacillates between being livid at himself and overwrought with worry for Q. The young man is crumpled unconscious on the marble floor. He had seen it coming. Q was already too pale in the car, lips almost colourless. He had to call Q’s name twice before he responded to exit the vehicle.

He should have dealt with it in the parking garage, instead of turning Q into a spectacle here in the lobby. He recognised the symptoms of hyperventilation when he saw it. Bond was hoping to get Q to medical before helping him recover.

He checks Q’s pulse, rapid but weak. He’s breath is still shallow. If medical doesn’t get there in the next minute, he’s going to pick Q up and carry him there. A crowd is forming around them. Level 5 lobby is the main exchange lobby inside HQ - where the ‘public’ meets the ‘secret’. The floors above level 5 house the Executive and Operational branches. Level 5 and below that are the public facing areas - accounts, administrative, HR, logistics, cafeteria, etc. To get to the upper levels, they have to change to the restricted lift banks further to the rear of the building.

And now, it’s right in the middle of the workday morning. Curious staff from both upstairs and downstairs are standing around staring. Bond wants badly to tell them to -piss off-, but it would just make rumours spread faster.

Dr. Chen arrives just then with two of her aides, a crash cart and a gurney. Together they put Q onto the gurney, checking his vitals on the way to Medical.

“BP  87/60. Pulse 110. Oxygen saturation 92%. Glucose levels 61mg/dL,“ One of the medical aides report.

“He’s borderline hypoxic and in hypoglycaemic shock. Prepare glucagon shot, and glucose IV drip.” Dr Chen orders as they fit Q with an oxygen mask.

Knowing Q, he likely hadn’t taken breakfast yet that morning either. He was still asleep when Bond left for HQ. Add that to the fact that Q barely had dinner the night before; appetite suppressed by the cold he was having - he was running very low on reserves.

—

The treatment room doors close in his face. One of the senior nurses had brandished a folded stethoscope in his face like a weapon and told him to stay. That was Maria, a straight talking matronly nurse of Pilipino descent, the only nurse in medical that isn’t afraid of his 00-status despite being nearly a foot shorter than him. So he’s now left pacing the corridor outside.

—

Earlier that day

When his phone buzzed that morning with a security alert ::Lobby Alert:: , 007 was in a meeting in the operations centre with M, Tanner and 004 running through plans for the next mission in Libya. A local warlord was buying guns presumably to fight ISIS insurgents but intel has it that he’s gone from fighting them to suppling them - profits were better.

007 had excused himself to a corner to check the app that would give him access to the security cameras in Q’s building. The sight of the three men at the door with the battering ram had him on his feet in an instant - heart in his throat. The distress signal came through seconds later.

He was out of the conference room door in seconds and into the main operations area where the wall of monitors stood. R was there and had apparently received the same alert - the warning flashing red and urgent across one of the monitors.

“007, Sir!” R called out to him from across the room, “Q’s distress signal was just activated.” R looked to Bond like he might have an explanation.

M and the others in the conference room had followed him out when they noticed him leave abruptly.

“I just received the same alert. Security cameras show three men attempting to gain access.” Bond held up his phone to indicate how he knew.

Panic flickered across R’s face for a moment; but her training kicked in and she started calling out orders to the minions around her, “Executive Protocol Q! Attempted forced entry at Quartermaster’s residence in progress. I want CCTV feeds around his residence. Get the police on the line, how fast can they get a patrol unit there-...”

What happened next was a flurry of activity. Bond’s only deference to protocol was to turn to M and nod his leave before sprinting out. Tanner caught up with him at the lifts, a tablet in hand. He swiped his Chief of Staff card and tapped a short code that would give him (or more accurately M) preferential lift access in emergencies.

“M says to take his car. R can patch through the feeds and update us on the way.” Bond would normally object to having someone tag along with him, but in this instance a government vehicle with its blues-and-twos flashing would get them through traffic quicker.

By the time they got to the parking garage, they were joined by another team of agents. Tanner had the keys to M’s Jaguar and took position as driver, he signalled to one of the other agents jump into the front passenger seat - leaving 007 to stew in the back. The remaining agents followed in a separate vehicle.

-

“Tanner... a little more speed would be appreciated.”

“007, why don’t you pay attention to the tablet and help R out?” Tanner suggested politely.

-

007 flung the door open before the car even made a full stop. He engaged the second assailant just as Q made it across the Jag’s bonnet to the other side. Bond would later dispute the police report that indicated excessive force was used to subdue the assailant. A broken nose, partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee was hardly excessive in his line of work.

—---

Present

Dr Chen emerges from the treatment room 15 minutes later.

“He’s fine. He’s fine.” Chen holds up her hands to placate Bond before he can do his double-0 looming. “Oxygen levels are back to normal and blood glucose readings are back up. He just needs rest and some food in him.”

Q comes fully around in half an hour. The glucose and oxygen supplement doing wonders. He’s sitting up on the recovery bed having tea and biscuits that Bond managed to retrieve from Q’s stash in Q-Branch.

Mallory and Eve are present as well, intercepting Q before Bond has had a chance to see him privately. Pleasantries done, M leaves the room and gestures for 007 to follow him out, leaving Eve to continue her conversation with Q.

—

Outside Recovery Room A

“007, It’s been a trying day. How are you?” M opens.

Bond makes a non-committal sound, “Sir. I know you didn’t want to see me to discuss my mental health.”

M sighs. Why must everything be so difficult with this one.

“Fine. I want to discuss Q’s protection detail for the next few weeks until we get this threat sorted. You are off the Tripoli mission next week, 004 will be taking lead,” M offers.

Bond would normally protest, but this time he makes no move. Internally he is relieved. This saves him from having to come up with an excuse for why he won’t be going.

“We’re going to have to move Q to a secure location. MI5 has safe houses and resources we can tap into— “ Mallory sees the snarl forming on 007’s lips and quickly adds, ”—but I have a feeling you are going to want to have a say in it.”

Bond backs down and considers a moment. “I still have my place. The floorplan is easy to secure. A few upgrades and it should be adequate.”

“And the rest of the detail?”

“I’ll… need two more officers. Better yet, field agents in line for the 00-program. Consider this their asset protection training.”

M nods in approval. But something is left unsaid. M decides that it is time to get it out of the agent.

“How long has it been going on?” Bond knows M is not talking about the protection detail anymore.

“Just over a year.” He says matter of fact looking at a point past M’s shoulder. Bond isn’t volunteering more information than that. M doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks thoughtful.

Both men are clearly uncomfortable with the personal segue of the conversation. A pause and they both look away and clear their throats at the same time.

M ends the discussion on something they are more accustomed to, “Well, I trust you have this area under control. Tomorrow morning, we’ll reconvene to discuss any information R and Forensics can recover.”

Bond nods. “Very well, sir.” The fact the M hasn’t removed him from the case is consent enough.

——

Inside Recovery Room A

“How are you?” Eve rubs his blanket covered shin.

“Aside from it being one of the worst days of my life? Alright all things considered.“

Eve reaches over to give him a tight hug, more for her own sake than Q’s, “You had everyone so worried!… Thank goodness for the pen.”

“Yes well… Bond’s penchant for pilfering Q-branch equipment finally came in handy.”

Eve ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his cheek, “You did really well today. I’m so proud of you.”

Q shrugs, what can he say? He doesn’t feel particularly proud. More numb if anything now that’s it’s over. Eve seems to sense this and goes for humour instead, ”Did Tanner tell you? He put 007 in the backseat of the Jag on the way to you.”

“I did wonder about that…” He could imagine Bond’s ire at having to relinquish control and wait patiently. Eve and Q share a conspiratorial smile.

“The rumour mill is spinning in overdrive; thought you might to know. It was quite the spectacle this morning in the lobby.”

Q pinches the bridge of his nose; mortified. “Not my finest moment I’ll admit. I’ve single handedly destroyed what little street cred Q-Branch had left.”

“Oh Q... that’s not what people are talking about—,” at his blank look, she unlocks the phone in her hand and pulls up the internal messaging app. She scrolls to a video and selects it before showing it to him.

It was of Q crumpled dramatically on his side just in front of the lift banks. 007 is crouched over him, one of his hands cradling Q’s head. Tanner is standing nearby, phone to his ear. The video captures 007’s other hand coming up to touch the pulse point at Q’s neck. A few moments later the agent looks up, taking in the crowd, his eyes a blazing blue, expression tinged with fear. Dr. Chen arrives soon after, cutting off the view from that angle.

Oh… OH…- In his mind, Q had expected the incident to be far more comical. A tech boffin kissing the floor from panic induced hypoxia has the potential to be the stuff of comic legend; if schadenfreude was your cup of tea. But the video was far from amusing. Poignant would be a more accurate description. Bond will be a handful to deal with later.

At the sobering thought, Q changes the subject, “Did I make the tele?”

Eve grins and nods,”All morning… breaking news and all. It’s being spun as a possible terror attack, as shots were fired and we need to maintain your cover. Mallory negotiated a quid pro quo with MI5. They are getting credit for the quick response in apprehending the suspects in exchange for publicly copping to counter-terrorism failure.”

“There were quite a lot of shots exchanged. Was anyone hurt?” Q recalled the street was rather busy.  

“Aside from the assailants, none seriously. Some civilian injuries, but all stable.” That assuages his guilt somewhat.

“Has anyone been to the flat?”

“Forensics is taking a look now.”

“Derek, the officer in the lobby? Is he—“

“He’s just out of surgery. Critical but stable.” This is why Q loves Eve, she knows everything.

“Don’t suppose anyone knows what happened to the cats?” Q is a little sheepish to be asking about his pets when human lives were threatened this morning.

“The cats are fine. Emily from forensics found them huddled in the laundry room. She’ll bring them back here at the end of her shift,” Eve reassures him, “But at the moment, your lion is loose and prowling the halls.”

Ah right, “Eve… does everyone know?”

Eve smiles at him, “Q... everyone’s known for months. Including Mallory.”

Just then the door opens and Bond reenters. Eve takes her leave. She pats Bond on his bicep on the way out and he acknowledges with a nod. When she’s cleared the doorway, he closes the door and locks it behind her. Finally. Some privacy.

Bond is silent intent when he comes to sit on the recovery bed facing Q. He removes the mug of tea from Q’s hands and sets it safely aside - gently demanding.

He leans in to wrap his arms tightly around Q, crushing Q against his chest. He runs his calloused hands over Q’s back, neck and into his hair - then buries his nose in that unruly mop of hair, breathing in deeply. When he’s a little calmer, a little more composed - he relaxes his hold to nuzzle Q around the temple before going in for a kiss, hands still stroking the sides of Q’s face and neck.

Q’s glasses are askew from all the petting. “Alright… I’m alright…. ,“ He soothes the agent, and has to take hold of Bond’s hands to quiet him. He knows Bond in this unsettled mood - a predator caught off guard, challenged… insecure. Bond would very well take things too far to reassure himself if Q lets him. And this isn’t an appropriate time or place.

“Are you still going to Tripoli on Monday?” Q tries to distract the clingy agent.

“No. M stood me down… I’ve been reassigned as your PPO,” Bond rumbles softly into his hair.

“Aren’t you a little overqualified to play bodyguard?” Q needles him.  

“Hmm… you deserve the best,” he mumbles into the corner of Q’s mouth.

Q snorts at the backhanded compliment Bond’s paid himself.

Bond whispers, “I’ve been told I’m rather good at what I do.”

Bravado. Let him have it- Q thinks, “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re precious,” Bond had not intended that to be out loud, and is a little embarrassed even before Q calls him out on it.

“Gah! You’re incredibly mushy today,” Q pushes him away lightly, mock cringing.

Bond leans back, but his hands have escaped and have wandered around Q’s waist, thumbs caressing the ticklish flesh, “Considering the events of today, I think I’m entitled.” Bond leans back in for a kiss.

Pillow talk. They’re engaging in pillow talk in the middle of the day in Medical. -Surreal- Q thinks.

The door handle rattles. Bond squeezes his eyes shut and exhales in exasperation -Seriously, can everyone just piss off!

Undeterred by the universal sign for a request to privacy, the person the other side raps on the door.

Bond goes to unlock it. Q picks up his tea to hide his mirth.

The door opens to reveal Nurse Maria sporting a -very- disapproving scowl. She’s back to check in on Q’s condition. She keeps her eyes on Bond as she enters, keeping him at bay with her stare alone. Bond moves away to a decent distance and stands at parade rest, eyes straight ahead; the very picture of obedience.

She turns to Q and fusses over his vitals and starts removing the IV drip.

“Rest. No more dangerous stunts. Eat more... Too skinny. Tsk!” she makes a sound of disapproval.

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

“Hmph…” Maria huffs unimpressed, as she fluffs Q’s pillow.

Mercilessly she adds, “Maybe the boyfriend is too busy. Always travelling. You should tell him to slow down. Spend more time at home.”

All this she directs at Q but there is no mistaking who the words are actually for.

“I’ll umm… I’ll make sure to let him know.” Q tries to defuse the situation. If it comes down to an actual contest of words between those two, Q’s not sure Bond would win.

——

Quartermaster’s Residence

Late that afternoon, once forensics is done collecting evidence, Bond is back home - well technically Q’s place. He speaks to Emily, Head Forensics Tech onsite for an update.

“Place is untouched, only damage appears to be the door. Nothing appears to be out of place, but you’d be able to tell better than us. It doesn’t look like the assailants bothered to search for anything. Which confirms the suspicion that they were not after anything, but Q himself.”She informs him - which to Bond is the worst case scenario. Q has something they want, and if the failed attempt today does not dissuade them, then they will try again.

“We’ll have some technicians back onsite to secure the door at least temporarily and do a more thorough sweep… Right then, cats are in their carriers in the laundry room. Do you still want us to take them to HQ?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take it from here. Thank you Emily.” Emily pats him on the shoulder much like Eve did before leaving.

Bond has two other agents with him:

Agent Monica Chalmers, former Squadron leader in the Royal Air Force, calm, tough as nails with surprisingly good hand to hand combat skills for a pilot.

Agent Peter Coyle former Major in the Royal Marines, good all rounder but with a dormant sense of rebelliousness that Bond see lying just beneath the highly disciplined exterior.

Both are experienced field agents and nine months into the Double-0 program and top of their batch. He’d consulted 009 earlier for his recommendation and Bond remembered them from the selection weekend ten months ago when he assisted 009 in the testing process.*

Bond gets them to help pack a few bags for Q as well as collect any projects and papers he was working on - directing them where things are and pointing out the items he wants packed.

When they’re done and about to leave, Bond emerges form the laundry room with his own bag and a cat carrier, “I hope the both of you like cats.”

Chalmers is quick to indicate affirmative. Coyle hesitates a split second too long; 007 smells blood and smiles sharkily. “Well you do now,” and promptly hands over the carrier case to him.

-—-

Notting Hill, Chelsea

Then they swing by MI6 to pick up Q before heading to Bond’s place in Chelsea.

They have a polite dinner, all four of them standing around the kitchen bar, because Bond’s bachelor pad lacks any real furniture. Bond refuses to be embarrassed. The place smells musty from disuse, and the overhead lighting is harsh and unflattering. It’s in a very nice part of town, but the place is frankly depressing. Q’s only been here a handful of times. Barely furnished and incomplete, it represents Bond’s past - he still comes by time to time especially after missions where he’s had to do some morally questionable things. He comes here to shed the proverbial filth so to speak; before returning to his present, his life with Q. Psychological compartmentalisation in physical form.

Q had let the cats out to explore. Jellicles the younger tuxedo cat is curious, zooming about the place and chattering to himself. Q thinks his boldness is due to the place not smelling entirely alien. Bond had to pull the cat off the hanging kitchen lights at one point.

But Spot (after Data’s cat) the older orange moggie is having none of it. The big former street cat is attempting to climb Q’s jeans, wanting to be held and cuddled. Q finally gives up and picks up the cat and hitches it to his side like child - the large moggie is as heavy as one too. With the cat mollified, Q can finish his dinner.

After dinner, Q transfers the cat to Bond’s arms before excusing himself to shower and get ready for the night. Bond is in his usual white shirt open at the collar, gun holster still around his shoulders. The orange cat fidgets in his arms, head-butting him under the jaw. Jellicles who was lounging on the kitchen bar now feels left out and is reared up on his hind legs, front paws on Bond’s other shoulder, meowing incessantly. “Yess, alright…,” he sets down his fork in mild annoyance to pet the cat along his long sinuous spine and get him to sit back down.

Agents Chalmers and Coyle exchange a look. Here is the idolised spy, the revered Double-0 agent, the man himself in his private setting and nothing lives up to expectation. The cognitive dissonance throws them.

Bond ever the observant one catches their open stares, understanding immediately. His voice is low, tired even, heavy with the the years of service and untold horrors he’d witnessed and done, “They lie in the brochures. I hope neither of you are doing it for the lifestyle.” And that concludes Bond’s pearl of wisdom for the day.

When they’re done clearing up, Bond gives them their instructions.

“Familiarise yourselves with the floorplan, entry and exits. Let me know what improvements we need and an escape plan for contingencies.”

“In the evenings when I’m around, you won’t need to stay. Check in with the police guards outside and have them keep watch of the building. But I won’t be here all the time. At some point I -will- leave to go after whoever is behind this.”  

“The both you will need to take turns sleeping on the couch. Or make alternative arrangements for him if the threat becomes untenable. We’ll discuss more tomorrow.“

With that, they’re dismissed.

——

That night, when the lights are out, and they’re both scrubbed clean of the days’ stress  - Bond crawls into bed behind Q. Q can sense it in the cautiousness and light tremors in Bond’s movements, like he’s trying to keep it together.  

Once his guard drops, James is near inconsolable. Wrapped possessively around Q, hands everywhere, legs tangled - his face is buried in the back of Q’s neck. The man is silent, except for the harsh and erratic breathing - and not the good kind either. The back collar of Q’s pyjamas is wet with tears.

Q does his best to soothe, petting and rubbing the muscled arms wrapped around him. He brings the man’s hands up to his face and kisses the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. “James, I’m alright…. I’m right here…” he whispers over and over.

He doesn’t try to stop the emotional breakdown, better to let him have it. Q feels a little guilty, he’s feeling somewhat detached from the days’ traumatic events. Maybe it’s because he got to panic while it was happening and it is now out of his system.  He’s cool and calm now while James suffers the emotional fallout.

Q recalls the video that Eve presented to him earlier in the afternoon. The camera capturing with stunning clarity the raw emotion behind the agent’s blue eyes. If the agent knew about the video, he’d make the person who took it will disappear. Which reminds Q to make a mental note to nuke the video from the messaging platform in the morning.

James is past the tears now and demanding more. The soothing caresses turning to something more serious, more consuming. Q is more than happy to give. They comfort each other until they’re both exhausted enough to fall asleep.

---------

Saturday 10:00  

SIS (MI6) Ops Centre Level 9 - Operations Room C.

R is providing sitrep. Images flash across the wall of screens to the front of the room.

“…—The ambulance was stolen from the Forest Hill Station south of London. Three assailants. Two in custody--” Their mugshots appear on screen:

Assailant 1 sports a bandaid under his chin. “…— is under medical observation for possible head trauma from hitting the cobblestone street—…”

Assailant 2 is much worse off, broken nose, a large hematoma under the right eye, and ugly bruising across the throat. “…— is also under medical observation for a partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee.”

“Hospital will not release them for questioning until Sunday or Monday at the latest. Human rights and all. Third assailant was cornered by our agents, but opened fire into the crowd. Luckily there were no serious injuries. Agents stood down to avoid risk to civilian population and the assailant escaped on a stolen motorcycle.”

“Facial recognition places them as local members of a south London crime syndicate. Armed robbery, money laundering and the likes - serious crimes but nothing on the scale that would suggest going after a head of department in SIS.”

“Hired muscle. Nothing more. So that if the attempt fails or they get caught, it can’t be traced to whoever ordered it,” M concludes.

“Yes, sir. But they would have to know where to drop the asset off if it were successful though.” Agent Chalmers chimes in.

“Note the unusual timing; in the middle of a workday morning meant that they had to know that Q would be home at the time. That he was relatively unguarded—“ that Bond wasn’t home, was left unsaid. “—which means they were watching. Or told when to initiate the attempt.” Tanner added.

Q is only half paying attention to the discussion. Mark from IT-Branch came in earlier to hand him three new boxes of electronics - bless him. A new phone, laptop and hotspot router (because Bond’s place has no telephone or internet); unboxing them was like taking a hit for an addict in withdrawal. Q is preoccupied with setting them up and re-downloading data from the secure cloud services. He feels nearly like himself again. He had spent most of yesterday without them and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“The place was untouched. The target was Q. What worries me is motive. Why would anyone take such a risk to provoke MI6 by abducting the Quartermaster knowing we would have the motivation and resources to go after them. Not unless the payoff is something that would massively change the way they forward their agenda. It has to be something they need him for. Something they can’t replicate, not even if they had the plans.” 007 concludes.

M who was rocking lightly in his chair whilst listening stops, leans forward and sighs. He looks over at Q, “What have you been working on?”

Mallory couldn’t keep track of all of it. Yes Q-Branch spent millions in R&D but they made the government (and by extension secured SIS funding) at least ten times what they spent. Declassified plans, schematics and programming codes sold at auction to private defence, Infosec and engineering companies for tens of millions.

The Q-Branch minions might be the butt of jokes at times in SIS, but their work not only kept operatives alive but helped keep the lights on in MI6. It is no wonder that MI5 wanted a slice of that pie. Sometimes M wondered why Q hasn’t left to go work in private. He’d asked him that once, and all he got in reply was something to the effect of ‘reigning in egomaniacal tendencies with public oversight and knowing which side you’re on’.

“Take your pick—” Q huffs in mild frustration, then realises who he was speaking to and adds,”—Sir.”

Q’s feeling tetchy this morning. Aside from tech withdrawal, his cold had gotten worse so his nose is completely stuffed. The general fatigue that accompanies a cold is exacerbated by his aching leg muscles from all that running the day before. Then he’d discovered he’d ripped a nail right off the finger bed in his haste to remove the hard drive so it stings when he types. He’s feeling a full on sulk coming. Bond already bore the brunt of his crabbiness this morning attempting to get him ready to come in to HQ.

“What about the project you’ve been working on with Mark? With the Shadow Network?” R said trying to be helpful.

“What about it? And please, I prefer Gemini Network - sounds less villainy.”

“I heard Mark say it could be a game changer, that it will give us the upper hand when it comes to controlling information.”

“Well in theory….” Q is being a little evasive.

Mallory looks over at Eve and tips his chin up at her. Eve knows at once to go and fetch Mark. They’ve learned over the years that when Q says something is ‘in theory’, it means he’s already gone ahead and built a proof a concept it or at the very least it tested the theory.

Mark enters the operations room like he’s been summoned to the headmasters office. “Sir? You asked to see me?”

“Tell us about the Gemini Network.” M dives right in without preamble.

“You mean the Shadow Network?” Mark looks for clarification.

“Why does everyone insist on calling it that?…” Q is slightly miffed.

Mark begins, “Well, the concept started years ago when we first used it to trap Silva in his earlier days. Quantum was trying to undermine your predecessor through Q-Branch, cascade of equipment failures leading to the death of a field agent. Basically we built a replica of Q-Branch systems and let Silva run his virus in it to learn what he was doing.”

“Since then we’ve evolved and developed the concept into a full shadow network that now protects MI6 systems. We created an AI shepherded by our cybersecurity team that patrols our systems; learning the normal functions - what’s secure, what’s not.” Mark pauses to check if everyone is still following.

“The idea is that when an anomaly in the system is detected, the AI isolates the suspicious node and shunts it into its shadow network. The shadow network presents itself as a legitimate fully functioning system and lets whatever suspicious activity continue unchallenged. But all the while it is watching and learning. It then flags the human team who can then decide if it is harmless or a legitimate threat. We can then use what it learns to patch the actual system. Think of it like an evolving immune system for cybersecurity. The more it learns the more robust it gets.”

Q then reasons, “The AI represents thousands of hours of machine training and learning, valuable in it of itself. But not impossible to recreate - though having MI6 as a training ground does make it harder for anyone to catchup to it.”

Bond notices Mark’s excited body language. The man is almost bouncing on his toes, “But… I’m guessing there is more to this…?”

Marks looks to Q and they have a non-verbal exchange. Those two are thick as thieves when it comes to programming, though Mark still refuses to transfer to Q-Branch for the sake of his sanity. Bond has met Mark numerous times, he likes the guy. Mark looks up to Q like an adoring little brother wanting someday to be just as good. Which means he’s an enabler who goes along with Q’s ideas without any sense of self preservation.

“Recently, Mark and I found a new application for it. We managed to package the AI into a worm that can be used to infiltrate a target network. It will still require us to inject it behind a firewall, either through hacking or physically. But once inside, it starts watching and learning - filtering traffic internally between nodes; as well as incoming and outgoing traffic outside of the network. It will sit dormant until activated…”

Eve’s eyes are wide, “Oh boys, what have you created?”

“…When activated, it will deploy the Shadow Network, into which we can shunt specific network traffic. A) The captured node still thinks its in the master system and functions normally. B) The AI then replaces the captured node with a mimic so to the master system, nothing is amiss.”

“The beauty of this is that it does not require us to crack security. When authentication is required, the AI simply returns the node back in to authenticate before shunting it back out. Do you see? We can compel any system to unlock its door by hiding behind the captured node.“ Mark points out looking like he’s about to explode with excitement.

Even Tanner is stunned now. R, who has heard it all before and told them repeatedly how dangerous of an idea this was - has her hands pressed together as if in prayer covering her mouth

“The node itself is tricked into thinking it is still interacting with the master system - which makes it voluntarily reveal information which we can collect or use as we see fit. Alternately we can seed it with misinformation to bring back to the master system.”

“Its the ultimate spy - Agent 1001.” Mark declares gleefully. His attempt at humour falls flat. If he‘d added Ta-Da! at the end of it, Bond was going to cuff him behind the head.

Mark pulls himself together and continues, “In practical terms it means we can change literally any information - while both sides remain unaware because there are now two truths depending on which network you are interacting with. ”

“But that’s just the start—.” Q takes over.

“There’s more?“ Mallory drawls out, feeling a migraine coming.

Q is apologetic, “What’s the most secure form of record keeping at the moment? …Blockchain. A set of records linked cryptographically together, with a distributed ledger that technically guarantees security. You can’t change any data in a block retroactively without changing all the subsequent blocks…. not unless you have consensus of at least 51% of all the nodes in the ledger.“

“Q… As riveting as this exposition is, get to the point.” Bond’s tone is a warning, his consonants sharper. Even he’s catching on to where this is leading and dreading it.

“Yes alright..” Q doesn’t get why everyone seems more upset than impressed.

”The point is, theoretically if we manage to get the worm into a peer-to-peer network and let spread throughout, we can apply the Shadow Network concept to launch a mass ‘eclipse attack’ on the distributed ledger. The nodes in the network must stay in constant contact to compare data for consensus. If the AI shunts off enough of the nodes into its Shadow Network and manage to trick 51% of the nodes into accepting our version of the chain before returning it, we change the ledger. Change the ledger and—“

“—You’ve hacked blockchain.“ Eve finishes for him, disbelieving.

“So are we talking about bitcoin?” Agent Coyle hazards a guess.

“Oh Agent Coyle… cryptocurrency is just the beginning. Just imagine any database that depends on blockchain for its immutability. Voting records? Supply chains? Financial records? Anti-counterfeit measures? The Shadow Network lets you - Change. Your. Digital. Reality.” Q finishes with a flourish; in purely intellectual terms, the concept is truly quite clever.

Tanner looks to Mallory alarmed,“Sir… 35 central banks are now experimenting with issuing digital state currencies on blockchain. At least 10 will be going ahead in this year and another 15 in the next 2 years.“

Silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Bond who has been standing off to the side of the monitors in his characteristic agent pose, legs apart one hand in his pocket; exhales loudly and points out ominously, “So whoever controls the AI, controls the Shadow Network and everything it can do - the Shadow Master. “

All heads in the room turn to Q….

“Yes, that would be one way of putting it. Personally, I prefer the term Shadow Architect,” Q chortles at the absurdity of the comic villain names.

But no one one else is laughing. And they’re all looking at him expectantly. Except Mark, he laughs at all of Q’s jokes.  

-Christ-. Bond is torn between wanting to strangle the oblivious idiot himself and wanting to put the genius in a glass cage for his own safety.

A moment later, Q has a dawning realisation about what he’s managed to get himself into this time.

“It..Its just theoretical!” Denial.

“Technically this belongs to SIS…” Bargaining.

“We just thought it would be a helpful tool for our operatives to turn the odds in their favour!” Anger.

“What in the world possessed me to think…” Depression

“Owwh shit.” Acceptance.

Q stops his pacing in front of the monitor wall and collapses into a chair nearby. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

When he’s done cycling through emotions, M raises and eyebrow,“Well, I’m glad we’ve all come to the same conclusion,” M’s sarcasm flies over his head.

——

As a result of the meeting, Q & Mark are sent away to put their project into a secure vault in the servers - until M knows what to do with it. Q feels like they’ve just been sent to ‘time out’ - to think about what they’ve done.

Once he’s done that, he goes to Q-Branch to serve out his sentence.

Q-Branch is the only ‘secret’ arm in SIS that is located between the garage and basement bunkers. It’s more practical that way as larger projects (cars, boats, etc) would be a logistical pain to move if they were on the upper levels. Three whole floors make up Q’s lair that he shares with thirty or so minions.

It’s Saturday, so only a skeleton crew is present most of them are working in the floors below. None are in the office areas.

Bond is still in the meeting upstairs with M and the others. So Q makes himself tea and sticks his nose in the steam curling out of the mug to open his sinuses. He’s running through the theory he’s told the others in his head - trying to poke holes in it. But no, the simulation running on his computer is telling him how terrifyingly efficient the AI would be once activated.

The main doors to Q-Branch offices hiss open. Q doesn’t turn around, knowing who it is. Bond comes to sit a little noisily in a swivel chair next to him, facing the other way. He’s radiating ‘we need to talk’ vibes, but even then Bond usually just invades his space until Q speaks first.

“James, I’m sorry about being a tosser this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The eggs were fine.” Q makes a peace offering. And since no one is around, he reaches out to trace a finger around Bond’s tie pin.

Bond doesn’t move away which means he’s forgiven. Thats the thing with Bond, he’s not really a man of many words when he’s not actively trying to charm a mark. So when he does want to talk, best pay attention.

“Whats the damage?” Q asks.

“Mark is going to need his own protection detail.”

“Oh, he’s going to love that….” Poor Mark is going to have to explain that to his Bumble dates.

“Well, it might teach him not to be such an enabler and grow a pair around you.”

“Hah! Tell it to his face.”

“I did. Now, stop making him do things that will get him in trouble. You don’t want that on your conscience.” Bond chastises. The poor guy is like Igor to Q’s Dr Frankenstein.

Suitably reproached, Q doesn’t have anything to say for himself. He continues playing with Bond’s tie.

“Mallory is thinking of forming an internal oversight committee to run risk analysis on Q-Branch projects. He doesn’t want to accidentally end up with a cyberworld equivalent of a Manhattan project in his lap.

“He’s afraid I’ll turn into Ozymandias…,” then remembering that Bond probably didn’t get the reference, ”Antagonist, very smart, tries to take over the world.” He supplies by way of explanation.  

Bond laughs a little, “If you do turn villainous, does that make me your henchman?”

Q considers, “More arc nemesis I should think. Don’t pretend that M won’t send you to shot me if I do. And don’t pretend you won’t either.”

“Are you expecting me to refuse?”

“No Mr Bond, I expect you to come get me.”

----  To Be Continued ---

[eeveelutionsforequality]

was on board with you guys til i read from you that pedophilia shipping is okay and "fictional child porn" (loli and shota) are apparently okay too. as someone who was groomed and sexually abused by someone who saw me as a loli, exposed me to loli/shota, and countless other things i can barely describe? that's really disgusting of you guys to think. its just child porn. shipping pedophilia is glorifying pedophilia. get a grip you guys.

This is, presumably, in response to this answer that I gave yesterday: http://eeveelutionsforequality.tumblr.com/post/184205417727/i-know-ive-seen-you-guys-post-about-how-shipping

Literally anything can be used to groom people - sweets, gifts, anything. I was groomed by being given drugs and alcohol until I was dependent on those people for those things, and thus had to give them what they wanted in exchange... and I'm still in favour of the legalisation of drugs and alcohol, because people have the right to choose to use those things responsibly, regardless of the fact that assholes also use them for nefarious reasons. I was groomed by people saying that I was "mature for my age". I was groomed with some stuff from the show Skins... I'm not rallying to ban that show, heck I still like that show. Lyrics from songs, them being a friend of a friend, them being a safe place to go to escape other abuse, some fuckin' gross internet drama about an underage girl, stories about their exs, them getting close to my parents, debates about age of consent laws, calling it "prostitution", and so on - people can and did manage to twist a whole host of seemingly benign shit into blackmail, manipulation, threats, coercion, or a way to convince you that it's normal or that nobody will care or that it's your fault... because that's what abusers do, they twist everything.

The first few years of being abused as a kid I didn't even need to be groomed, I was a literal tiny toddler with literally no knowledge of anything besides "I'm hungry and scared and in pain and I can't breathe." My entire childhood was abuse, with brief interludes of finding some toys in my therapist's office and immediately making them have sex, of drawing pictures of myself drowning, of suddenly crying when friends wanted me to play certain games and having no idea why that game scared me so much aside from a vague memory of a curved sofa and that game on pause. One time my father beat me with a kettle, and it took a while for me to not get anxious at the sound of a kettle boiling. My father took me out into the woods and tried to shoot me in the head, and I'm still pro-gun.

What I'm saying is that you've made this about your abuse, you've associated those things with your abuse because they were things that your abuser used, and that's pretty normal - we've all done that. What's not normal or okay is extrapolating that to say that, because people can use something for malicious purposes, the thing itself is inherently malicious or inherently will be used for those purposes - because that's incorrect.

Abusers can use anything to abuse, but those things can also be used for completely innocent reasons or even good reasons - the fact that you or I were groomed or abused using something is not proof of that thing being inherently bad, it's not reason to ban that thing... it's not reason to ban drugs, alcohol, Skins, kettles, guns, dodgy lyrics, safe places to go, friendship, talking to parents, internet drama, or games, and it's not reason to ban storytelling or art either.

I stand by my stance that anything is okay in fiction, because nobody is harmed in the creation of that fiction, and that we shouldn't ban words or drawings - we should prosecute people who do wrong, who abuse, not people who have just written a story or drawn a picture. Nobody is harmed in the making of that thing. Harm may come in the form of somebody not heeding the warnings and getting distressed reading it, or in the form of an asshole trying to use it to coerce somebody - both of those cases are not the fault of the author nor the story, they are the fault of other people being assholes. That abuser would've just used something else if the fic wasn't there, and if we just keep banning the next thing that they use and the next and the next, then I'm gonna need a license to buy a Twix by the end of the year - all in the name of blaming each random object instead of the person doing wrong. The abuser is the problem here, the abuser is the one causing harm, but no harm was done in the creation of the story or in the reading of it by a responsible viewer.

The same governments and systems and charities that rally against loli and fiction screw over victims of abuse all the time - I've seen it first-hand, I've seen it happen to friends, and I've seen it in newspapers and investigations - and banning this shit is nothing but virtue signaling to hide the fact that they can't do their damn jobs when it comes to actual people. Criminalising things that don't inherently cause harm themselves, but instead can only harm when utilised by malicious people, but then completely brushing under the rug some horrific things that malicious people have done... that's a depressing state of affairs.

I think that it's disgusting to want to put obscenity laws and thought crimes into place, AND I think that it's disgusting to use something to abuse somebody... and it's disgusting to blame that inanimate object for the abuse instead of the perpetrator.

I'm also sick to death of emotive asks that leverage abuse against you instead of any actual argument, then accuse you of basically being pro-child abuse despite you outright saying that you're against it... which leads to this awkward situation where I have to stoop to your level and divulge some of my own experiences of abuse just to prove that I'm not "talking over survivors" or pro-abuse, because straight up saying "abuse is wrong" isn't enough to prove that I actually hold that stance apparently.

Being a victim doesn't make you right and it isn't an argument, and you can draw incorrect conclusions from that experience. We all make associations as a result of trauma - that's kind of a key feature of how triggers and flashbacks and panic attacks work - but we should be able to recognise that just because we interpret something as bad or associated with our abuse, that doesn't mean that the thing is inherently bad or inherently tied to abuse in general.

Child porn harms children - like, it literally requires abusing children to make it. To call loli and shota by the same label, just because you find loli and shota "disgusting", is to dismiss all of that, to really belittle and devalue the weight of those two words. Child porn and child sexual exploitation materials are so horrific because somebody is abusing a child, an actual real child is being harmed right there. A drawing on a piece of paper of an anime character, a bunch of lines, is not on the same level as that, it's not even remotely in the same league of fucked up, and it should never be put on the same level as that - that's the most disgusting thing about your ask.

It's no more "glorifying pedophilia" to write a story than 1984 is glorifying communism, or Alice in Wonderland is glorifying drug use, or A Street Cat Named Bob is glorifying poverty, or Sherlock Holmes is glorifying murder.

People can write and draw whatever the hell they want, and if you sacrifice that principle just because something is uncomfortable for you, then I just can't agree with you. There's a lot of shit that makes me uncomfortable, but even if I don't agree with what somebody has to say, I'll defend to the death their right to say it... and that goes for art too, because it's important to maintain the freedom to speak and to create.

Feel free to unfollow me if you're uncomfortable, I can't force you to listen to opposing viewpoints or reconsider your position.

~ Vape

[sleeplesssecrets]

i could have journaled in my physical notebook journal tonight but i think i would rather dim my desk lampa and write here. im going to try to really go back to my roots on this blog, typing withing backspacing, and writing what im thinking about pretty much as ai think it. what has been on my mind is how much i crave a routine where i acknowledge the parts of my day and receive fulfillment from each moment. i have no idea how ot write that without sounding cheesy but i mean it. i want to wake up and say this is the morning. i am having my morning. i am changing into clean clothes because it is the morning. my moring coffee. my morning snuggles from my babies. i like to play animal crossing in the morning. and then when it turns noon i want to have lunch and read and give my baby his lil noon nap and recognize that i am experiencing noon today. then it will get later and my baby girl will be home in the afternoon after school. we'll have our afternoon snack and our afternoon craft or activity or whatever she feels like doing that day. i will notice how the sun chnages and watch my neighbors come home form work and switch the laundry over because laundry is an afternoon chore. and then i would have my dinner closer to night and do my skin care and find the moon in the sky to show my brai that it is in fact night time. and my phone will be charging while i fall asleep instead of a few inches away from my face showing myself an endless stream of short form content. i noticed today that i am truly enjoying being a stay at home mom. i love waking up and stacking wooden blocks ith my baby first thing. i dont have to worry about what im wearing to work or what the back of my hair looks like. my baby boy learned how to smooch this week so he's been kissing me when he feels like it. we are practicing consent in all areas of his daily life, from changing diapers to kisses to nap times. i ask him if he wants to nap with or wihtout a blanket, if he wants to let me change his diaper now or in a few minutes, i ask him if he wants to kiss or not. i would not be able to enforce this if i was away form my house 25 hours a week. we also got my baby girls room entirely cleaned, we took out some furnituure and rearranged ther est and gave her so much room to play on her floor. shes been really enjoying her timein her room again. once i have the dining room table the way i want it, we'll be able to craft together again, i already have some projects in mind. anyway. another thing htat has been on my mind which is so very hard to describe, is my mood board of landscape-ish type photos that ifound on the internet that give me a feeling of longing to be somewhere ive never been. and i dont add pictures to it if i recognize the place or if it's captioned with where it was photographed, that ruins it. i want to spawn in somewhere vibey, no signage, and just exist on earth. maybe its because i truly am terrible at cardinal directions. i unfortunately know where i am on a map. when i look at those pictures, i dont feel like i am somewhere specifically. i feel like ive talked about this a lot in real life to people as well as trying to write down the feeling but i wont give it up. ie only had a real feeling of being nowhere a few times in my life and i grip those memories in my hand like they're my last two dollars. i have a memory of being at someones home, a friend of my mom's. they had a dog and we were by the back door in the kitchen. i was on the floor peting the dog and the back door was open letting in light. and i couldnt tell you a single thing that happened that day other than that. i dont remember getting there or going away from there, just being there existing. it was just a house that day. not a house at an address, not in a city or a town, just someones home with their dog and the sunshine thats been shining down on me ever since. another memory was actually a little different, because i know exactly where i was, i can go there again, but i wouldnt be able to experience the feeling again. i was ont he porch of my inlaws home and my

girl was paying in the yard, and the overcast sky, the fog, and the way she was dressed that day was just so nice. i definitely dissociated and as my peripheral vision blurred i imagined we were in a soft grassy meadow. it gave me that somewhere nowhere feeling. one more thing ill document here that relates is how much i love courage the cowardly dog for this. i know some people say that show fueled their night mares as children but it only inspired my most interesting dreams. the sky is almost always moody. the creatures and people are just off putting enough. and its setting is literally "nowhere". ok im going

[avengers-nextgen]

The Rise Of The Lost IV

Bianca shivered in the cold confines of her cell. The surgery had been finished but no one had bothered to provide any pain relief. The girl was stuck laying on her stomach. Any form of movement brought tears to her eyes and tugged at the fragile stitches trailing her spine.

Bianca had no idea how long she’d been unconscious for again. If it was her luck maybe a day. The soldier knew, however, that her pain would not stop Dr. Strauss from her work. There was always room for improvement, first the arm for aesthetic effect, then the spine, what else?

The grating of a lock releasing was followed by footsteps and a white lab coated individual. “We have finishing touches, my dear.”

Bianca could only grunt out a response of pitiful protest.

“To your feet soldier.” With a set of gloved hands Bianca was slung to a standing position. Pain mirroring the sensation of burning alive made her vision dot with white spots.

Bianca’s knees buckled and the doctor was forced to support most of her weight. The shuffle through dim lit hallways was slow. Spotting the same metal table as before sent a flurry of panic through the soldier, but she could not flee. Physically-it was impossible.

Swallowing the grief already settling in, Bianca followed the normal procedure. With extremely slow and gentle movements the girl stripped from her uniform. The air, cold to the skin, burned tender bits of unhealed flesh.

— — —

Bucky didn’t get far when Siyanda caught up to him. “What do you want?”

“You need tnis.” The teenager held up a small earpiece. “Chances are she is being experimented on. If you interrupt the process it could cause permanent damage. I will have to walk you through the proper procedures to make sure you both make it out alive.”

Bucky contemplated the device before plucking it from Siyanda’s fingers. “Have someone ready to evacuate us.”

“Understood.” Siyanda nodded.

“Chances are you’re going to need a good pilot.” Both of the heroes turned in surprise to see Orion dressed in a flight suit.

“You are supposed to be in the infirmary.” Siyanda scowled.

“I’m tired of being pent up.” Orion shrugged. His slender fingers tugged anxiously at leather gloves. “Besides, my uncle rocket got experimented on without his consent. I’m not letting that happen to anyone else. You tell me where I need to be and I’ll be there.”

— — —

Bucky was putting a lot of faith in two teenagers. To be honest it worried him, but there was little else to be done. Equipped with hidden weaponry the soldier set on a determined path through the New York streets.

Each second that passed was a longer opportunity for Bianca to slip through his grasp. He couldn’t explain the protective instincts flaring in him. He had hardly talked to the girl and she’d made it quite clear he was nothing more than a monster to her.

Yet, here he was. About to take on an unknown enemy by himself. Bucky supposed that no matter what, all fathers had some attachment to their children whether they’d known them forever or not. Just looking at Bianca was like looking in a mirror and he’d be damned if Bianca was subjected to torture because of his own creation as a weapon.

— — —

The armory was non threatening on the outside but underneath was a rat’s maze of systems. Getting inside wasn’t an issue-as an assassin Bucky knew every trick in the book when it came to accessing off limits places.

Beneath the armory floor (which now was a ceiling) Bucky began to traverse the cold and dank tunnels. Faint lights flickered overhead like clumsy beacons. The atmosphere was charged with tension despite the silence.

A scream shattered the air. Bucky’s first instinct was to cover his ears but his heart leapt in his throat and he began to run. Drawing the pistols from his belt his boots slammed heavily on the concrete.

A camera blinked to life as he emerged into a small chamber. Without another look the device was shot. It exploded in sparks and its guts hung out in fritzing wires. As soon as the camera died an alarm began to wail overhead.

“Looks like a party is about to happen.” Bucky grumbled. “I didn’t know they celebrated father’s day.”

Setting his jaw the soldier tore on through the next passageway. Behind him were the sounds of heavy breathing and thick soled shoes slamming on the ground in a hungry pursuit. Metal arm skimming his belt, Bucky pulled out a metallic ring and pressed the center. Tossing it backwards over his head the tunnel flashed in violent blue as electricity incapacitated the enemy. “Gotta thank Natasha for giving me a bunch of those.”

Another scream more pitiful than the last urged him forward. As Bucky rounded a corner-getting closer to the pleading cries an arm jutted outwards close lining him in the neck. If it hadn’t been on sheer adrenaline Bucky would have landed flat, but he used the backwards momentum to turn his fall into a back flip.

Without hesitation Bucky fired at the body of his attacker sending them to the ground in a pool of their own blood.

— — —

“Almost done.” Crowed the false motherly time of Doctor Strauss. Bianca wanted to scream at her that she was lying. Only the stupid muzzle wouldn’t allow it. The metallic device only allowed screams to break through on occasion.

The sound of someone rushing down the opening up ahead brought the doctor’s attention. “Ah, I see you’ve arrived with the medical equipment.”

“Like hell I have.” The voice was gruff and the doctor froze in fear. Bianca located the intruder. Bucky stood with his gun raised and a look of murder on his face. Blood was splattered across his uniform and his eyes glared angrily at the doctor. “Siyanda!”

“Copy!” Siyanda replied.

“You’re going to do everything I say doctor if you want to live.” Bucky studied the lab coated individual carefully. He could tell right away she valued herself too much to consider dying. “Tell me exactly what you’ve done.”

— — —

The process of pausing the final touches to the spinal implants was more painful than continuing on with the procedure. The doctor’s nerves made her hands shake and the retraction of pins and needles was flawed.

Each muffled and pained cry, each twitch of hurt, the labored breathing going suddenly still-it all made Bucky incredibly anxious. Was the doctor even following Siyanda’s instructions? Had Bucky relayed something wrong?

It was only when the restraints holding Bianca in place released that Bucky let out a sigh of relief. The doctor lowered the platform back down to floor level as if it were a table and Bucky was confronted with the true damage done to the girl.

Metallic ridges resembling the vertebra of a spine glinted in the low light. The metal panels shifted and moved in an identical manner to that of her arm and his. Her spine would be able to support an ungodly amount of weight and would be able to handle an unimaginable beating.

“What are your plans with her-“

“Do you know who I am?” Bucky questioned. He barely titled his head to look at the doctor and it was as if she noticed his true identity for the first time.

“Oh-oh my-“ Bucky nodded in recognition as if she’d actually said his name.

“You have two options doctor. The first, you come back with me and face legal repercussions. The second, I kill you right here and now-no one would be the wiser.” Bucky held the gun up to emphasize his point. “No one even knows this place exists.”

The doctor didn’t hesitate to select option one. Bucky scrounged up Bianca’s discarded clothes and returned to her side. She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, her eyes only stared into an emptiness he could not see. She was in shock.

Perhaps it was a mercy.

Bucky was able to dress her without her feeling an ounce of pain. He acted unknowingly like a father whose kid had fallen asleep in the car and had to be carried to bed before changing the child’s pajamas.

With ease the soldier scooped up the quivering girl covered in a light sheen of sweat. The doctor followed close behind. An anxious air radiated off of her and Bucky felt like yelling at her to cut the crap and keep it together. Instead he spoke to Siyanda, “Tell the kid to pull the jet around.”

“Copy that.” Siyanda replied in her clipped and formal tone. The receiver crackled for a moment as the signal shifted.

“I’m outside.” The boy’s voice broke in. “Make it quick. They have some big guns out here.”

“It’s an armory.” Bucky snorted. “Of course they do. Don’t worry it’s all been deactivated.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Otherwise I’m about to repeat my crash landing and I don’t think I’m waking up in a cushy hospital bed next to a synthetic green and red robot dad.” All Bucky could think was that Peter Parker would get an absolute kick out of this kid.

— — —

As promised, the jet was hovering tentatively outside with onlookers gawking in awe. Thankfully? They were so impressed by the machine they didn’t notice Bucky or the doctor.

The asphalt grated against the soldier’s boots and the sound was somewhat comforting-until he heard the bang. One second the doctor was walking beside him, the next she was laying on the ground with her brains blown out.

“What the hell was that?” The kid cried.

“No idea but we have to high tail it out of here.” Bucky felt some guilt at leaving the doctor there but he couldn’t risk ending up like that as well. Once safely aboard Bucky settled Bianca on the medical cot. With some general knowledge of medical equipment Bucky began to monitor her vitals. They stabilized after a few IV drips.

Orion remained quiet the rest of the way back home and Bucky didn’t mind it one bit. He sat with his hands clasped watching the poor haggard girl shake. She was curled into an extremely tight, protective ball. The fear etched on her face along with the pain made his stomach clench.

One fateful tear trailed down her cheek. Bucky reached out and his metal index finger skimmed lightly across her cheek to wipe it away.

[gdelgiproducer]

DOTV AU: An Exercise in Alternate History (Part VII)

Parts I, II, III, IV, V, and VI offer more detailed context. (To briefly sum up why these posts are happening: alt history – as in sci fi, not “alternative facts” – buff, one day got the idea that DOTV could have turned out hella different if Jim Steinman looked for a star lead in other places, decided to reason out how that might work.) This is still getting a good response, so I’m gonna keep the train rolling.

Parts of the AU timeline established so far:

Instead of stopping at recording two songs from Whistle Down the Wind on a greatest hits compilation, Meat Loaf wound up taking more of an interest in Steinman’s new theater work than he did in our timeline, and through a series of circumstances found himself volunteering to play Krolock in the impending DOTV when Jim poured out his woes to him about needing to find some sort of star to attract investors. At a loss for any better ideas, Jim accepted Meat’s impulsive proposal, but not without resistance from his manager, David Sonenberg, who proposed Michael Crawford as an alternate candidate. Through quick thinking on Meat’s part, and inspiration on Jim’s, Crawford left the room accepting an entirely different role than he walked in hoping to get, leaving Krolock still open for Meat.

There was a brief speed bump, when Meat disliked Jim’s English script for the show, but after meeting with the original German author Michael Kunze and convincing Jim to compromise, things were on the road to being back on track… at least until 9/11 occurred.

Following a brief hiatus, everyone involved met to re-assess their options. The current game-plan was to put the new script on paper, schmooze with potential investors or producers, and put together a new creative team. Preferably not all at the same time, but with the crunch on, they’d do whatever needed to be done.

So far, the schmoozing has gone well, but everybody that Meat, Jim, and the crew would like to be involved is tentative. The newest conclusion is that they need to show them there’s a working show, and a concert of selections from the score seems to be the route they’re taking, possibly financed by an unlikely source.

Continuing the alternate DOTV timeline, a little differently this time! This time we get a feature on the concert from the New York Post’s own Michael Riedel. Take it away!

VAMPIRES: NEW MUSICAL BLOOD by Michael Riedel

If you’ve heard the buzz on the Rialto of late, you’d be forgiven for wondering if you were having a particularly nasty acid flashback. Dance of the Vampires, a new $15 million musical of the macabre based on the 1967 Roman Polanski movie The Fearless Vampire Killers, is already a monster hit in Austria and Germany, and it’s starting to gather steam here in the States as well, with some... we’ll call it unlikely... star power attached. After all, what other musical (even in a preliminary concert presentation) can boast Courtney Love as an emcee slash investor, and such disparate names as Meat Loaf and Michael Crawford as co-headliners?

Admittedly, Meat Loaf’s presence is slightly less surprising, as the driving force behind the show is Jim Steinman, who wrote Mr. Loaf’s classic Bat Out of Hell albums as well as the lyrics for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Whistle Down the Wind.  He has written the score and is co-adapting the book for Vampires with playwright David Ives (All in the Timing), who is also currently at work with Steinman for Warner Bros. on a musical version of Batman, from German dramatist Michael Kunze’s original script. He also co-directed this concert with Starmites composer Barry Keating, though early reports that Steinman would be co-directing the eventual Broadway run with Jane Eyre creator John Caird have ultimately been dismissed.

“Roman directed it in Vienna, but he can’t work here because of his legal problems,” Steinman said, referring to Polanski’s indictment for statutory rape in the 1970′s. “He may be the first director who can’t work over here because of a statutory rape charge.” When queried about who then would be directing the New York run, Steinman was tight-lipped, but among those in attendance at the evening’s proceedings was Urinetown’s Tony-winning helmer, John Rando, who is now rumored to be in talks for the slot. Said Rando of the new show, “It takes the vampire myth and pokes fun at it, but it also embraces it. Its message is about the excesses of appetite. It has wit and an edge to it. I’d love to be involved!”

The presentation (at the 499-seat Little Shubert Theatre, about half a mile west of Broadway; events like this cause us rightfully to wonder why it doesn’t see more use) for a by-invitation-only crowd was kicked off by Ms. Love, Hole rocker and widow of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, in memorable form. Says a source in attendance, “You could sum it up in two words: too drunk. She was literally falling over. She wasn’t coherent at all.” Managing to gather herself enough to announce that Dance of the Vampires is a musical for people “who think musicals suck,” she didn’t manage to say much else of importance. “It just became a little too sloppy, and she was removed.” Insiders report that Steinman’s manager, David Sonenberg, who is also one of the show’s producers (and a first-timer at that), worried that those involved would be seen as taking advantage of a troubled addict. Ms. Love’s performance did little to dispel this perception. Lucky that representatives from noted L.A.-based promoter Concerts West, major music manager Irving Azoff (who numbers The Eagles, REO Speedwagon, Journey, Christina Aguilera, and Sammy Hagar among his clients), film and music mogul Jerry Weintraub, and Broadway’s own Barry and Fran Weissler were in attendance; a cash infusion from such sources may well be needed to save face if she can’t “live through this,” to twist a phrase from her 1994 album of the same name.

In addition to Sonenberg, already attached to Vampires on the producing side are Andrew Braunsberg (another first-timer, who also produced Polanski’s 1971 film version of Macbeth), Leonard Soloway, Bob Boyett (Sweet Smell of Success, Topdog/Underdog), Lawrence Horowitz (Electra, It Ain’t Nothing But the Blues), and Barry Diller and Bill Haber’s USA Ostar Theatricals. Boyett, a TV producer turned legit entrepreneur, used the phrases “trial by fire” and “going to war,” perhaps because while some novice producers just put up the money, get the credit and run, Boyett says he’s been taking the process very seriously: “I went to all the meetings and learned, like it was grad school.” While some Hollywood types find Broadway “less cutthroat,” Boyett finds it “more restrictive.” He mentions the sheer physical space of the theaters but also all the rules and regulations: "I’ve dealt with unions all my life, but I do find Actors’ Equity is very restrictive to the creative process.” Further, he regrets that Vampires will not have an out-of-town tryout. “I loved the experience of taking Sweet Smell of Success to Chicago,” he says with real enthusiasm, as if the project ended happily. “It was helpful to have the critics say what they did.” Not that Boyett thinks the right message from the critics got to the creative team. 

As for Boyett’s teammates, Bill Haber attended on behalf of USA Ostar, and although he wouldn’t consent to a formal interview, he couldn’t resist answering one question -- and it has nothing to do with Dance of the Vampires. Why is Haber’s other fall production, Imaginary Friends by Nora Ephron, being called a play if it has six songs by Marvin Hamlisch and Craig Carnelia? “It has nothing to do with how many songs there are,” he shot back. “It has to do with the fact that if you took all the songs out, it still works and you still have a play.”

And all this before we even get to the show itself. Vampires is your typical erotic musical about an innocent girl (played this evening by impressive newcomer Mandy Gonzalez, currently standing by for the role of Amneris in Aida and late of Off-Broadway’s Eli’s Comin’) choosing between two lovers, in this case an older, aristocratic vampire (Loaf, whose appearance here marks the first time he has worked with Steinman in theater since the early Seventies) and a hunky young grad student (Max von Essen, who reportedly also appeared in the Steinman/Caird-helmed reading in April 2001) under the tutelage of a rather intensely wacky vampire hunter (Crawford). Given the level of Loaf’s obvious commitment to the piece, it is surprising that his manager (Allen Kovac, of Left Bank Management) was a no-show, and in that light, rumors that Loaf has yet to formally sign on the dotted line for Vampires (in spite of previous announcements to the contrary, no less) prove even more curious. Calls to Kovac’s office were not returned. The rest of the cast, boasting some fine voices indeed, was filled out by assorted Broadway names and members of Meat Loaf’s long-time touring band, The Neverland Express, which also provided accompaniment for the evening under the crisp musical direction of veteran rock bassist Kasim Sulton (best known for his work with Todd Rundgren and Utopia, among others).

Speaking of the music: the score, as per Steinman’s usual style, is appropriately big and Wagnerian, with plenty of luscious, operatic melodies, including one familiar favorite that sticks out like a sore thumb: Steinman’s famous “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” under whose operatic pretensions I swooned as a teenager. “I couldn’t resist using it,” he says of a song that goes, ‘Once upon time there was light in my life / But now there’s only love in the dark.’ “I actually wrote it for another vampire musical that was based on Nosferatu, but never got produced.” Close listening to the CD sampler for interested investors also reveals a rehash of the vigorous “Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young,” his song for the film Streets of Fire, which I saw in Los Angeles in 1984 and sent me racing along Mulholland Drive to keep up with the propulsive beat.

As for the new stuff, maybe 50′s rock ‘n’ roll with a 70′s preen isn’t what the 80-year-olds who constitute Broadway’s audience want to hear (and Jim’s rock-mock-Wagnerian shtick admittedly tends to play better in London and Las Vegas than in Manhattan), but my sources say they knew from the first number --  an angelic trio with a beguiling (what did they used to call it?) melody and some expert (the Andrews Sisters used to do it) harmony -- that this would be my kind of score. Frankly I’m glad; since the prehistoric vinyl days, Steinman has been the guy I keep calling for to rejuvenate, or just plain juvenate, the Broadway musical, in a world where the musical theater establishment pronounces old ABBA records a hip pop sound.

The book, while reportedly in better shape than the April reading, is something else again. From the excerpts on display last night, the mix of bawdy humor and eroticism still needs fine-tuning. Says Sonenberg, “By the time we open, it will be a new version of the show, significantly changed with a view toward a New York audience, but right now it plays very much like the original in several respects.” Adds David Ives, “The German production is probably more faithful to the film, but it’s a fairly humorless show, with people getting hit on the head with salami. And I’ve been brought in to take out the salami and put in the chorus girls, without veering into camp in the process. Now it’s just a question of finding the balance, which, needless to say, isn’t easy. But I like what we’ve accomplished so far: Meat’s character is vastly different, a much more multifaceted, dynamic, complete figure. We’ve also made other changes and cuts and restructured the show into a book musical, with dialogue; the original is all sung. I think we’ve made it a much more interesting story.”

Time, as always, will be the ultimate arbiter of fate.

[grootiez]

The Joys of Raising a Teenaged Groot- Chapter 17: Miracle

Rocket called the Guardians at home to tell them of the miracle. Unfortunately, none of them were home, so he left a message on their answering machine.

“Hey, Quill, this is Rocket.” The raccoon began. “Look, uh, I’m sorry that I’m not back home yet. Something has come up. Uh-.” Rocket’s cell phone battery died and shut off just as he was about to tell Peter and the others the good news about Groot. “Kurtakin’ piece of crap.” He mumbled as he placed the phone in his pocket.

Groot was sent away to get another brain scan done to see how much damage he suffered. Rocket came to the decision that no matter what Groot could or could not do, he would love him no matter what. He didn’t care if Groot would be back to his usual moody self or would need to be placed in a specialized nursing home that cares for severely brain-damaged patients with 24-hour care and a private nurse for Groot. He decided that he would celebrate every single milestone Groot reached, no matter if it was as simple as Groot maintaining eye-contact with Rocket as he talked to him, or if Groot could talk to Rocket again himself.

Rocket didn’t know what to expect as he was escorted to Groot’s room. Sure enough, Groot was still hooked up to all of the life support machines that he was on before he was taken off of them when it was decided to let him die in peace. But this time, Rocket was glad to see Groot hooked up to those machines. It meant that Groot was fighting to stay alive, that he had a fighting chance to live. Rocket secretly hoped that Groot would beat the odds stacked against him and make a full recovery without any lasting injuries or impairments. But he would accept whatever his son could do.

Rocket sat next to his son and gently stroked his face. Groot’s head was shaved as a result of the emergency procedure that he had to have done to prevent even more catastrophic damage to his brain. His head was wrapped up in gauze with a green covering over it.

“It’ll be okay, Groot.” Rocket said to him softly. “You’re a fighter, that’s for sure. And if you won’t give up, I won’t give up.”

There was a blip on the heartrate monitor followed by a beep. The same thing occurring on the machine that monitored Groot’s brain waves. Could Groot detect Rocket’s presence even though he was in a coma? He pondered this as he left Groot’s room to meet the Guardians out by the entrance to the ICU wing.

Just then, Peter and the other Guardians came by to see why Rocket called them. They were perplexed as to why instead of crying, Rocket was smiling.

“Rocket?” Peter was confused as to why the raccoon was smiling as he stood in front of the entrance to the ICU wing where Groot was recovering. “What’s going on?”

“You remember when you told me that when everything seems to be lost, to just keep faith and life will find a way to make everything better?” Rocket responded as Peter looked confused as to what he was saying. “Groot came back. He’s in there fighting for his life still, but he’s alive.” The other Guardians were shocked by this as they walked with Rocket to Groot’s room.

Inside, two nurses were assessing Groot’s vitals after they gave him a sponge bath and changed his diaper. The nurses told Rocket that Groot’s vital signs were vastly improved compared to when they checked them this morning.

“He’s doing really good.” One of the nurses, Talei, informed the Guardians. “So good that in fact, we might be able to wake him up from the coma.”

This filled Rocket with emotion. Just 24 hours ago, Groot had no hope of recovery and was taken off of life support as Rocket held his hand as he watched Groot take his final breath just before he died in front of his father.

Now, Groot was now considered a “Miracle Child”, having come back from death and making such a fast recovery that his caretakers were talking about bringing him out of the coma that he was currently in.

A few minutes later, Kalika entered the room and Talei and the other nurse gave her an update on Groot. She talked to them for a while before calling her supervisor on her work-issued cell phone. She then came to tell Rocket the news.

“Rocket, we will be waking up Groot today.” Kalika confirmed to Rocket and the Guardians as the raccoon was overcome with emotion.

“How- how soon?” Rocket stammered as he looked at his son. “How soon?” He repeated as he held onto Kalika’s arm to hold himself up.

Kalika looked Rocket in the eye. “How does ‘In the next five-to-ten minutes’ sound?” She asked the raccoon.

Rocket couldn’t believe it. In the next few minutes, Groot would be conscious again. He didn’t know what to think. Just a day ago, Groot wasn’t expected to ever come out of his comatose state. This got Rocket thinking, was Groot making a faster recovery than expected?

The raccoon sat by Groot’s bedside as Kalika and the other two nurses lessened the amount of the medicine that was keeping him in the coma while at the same time, injecting the medicine that would enable him to wake up into his main IV line.

Slowly, the medicine started to course through Groot’s body. Over the next ten minutes, Groot started to moan and groan as he stirred in his sleep. Kalika urged Rocket to talk to him to encourage him to open his eyes. Rocket understood and nods.

Rocket leaned in towards his son and started to talk softly to him. “Hey, Groot. It’s me, Daddy.” Rocket said soothingly to Groot as he placed Groot’s Bob Ross doll in his hand and gently stroked it. “I’m here, Star-Munch’s here, Aunt Gammy... we’re all here for you. Can you open your eyes for us so we can see those big beautiful eyes of yours?”

Groot opened those gorgeous brown eyes of his. Granted, one of them was covered with gauze as it continued to heal, but the eye that wasn’t covered with gauze looked at Rocket with fear, uncertainty, confusion, but most of all, faith, confidence, and happiness. Faith for all of the obstacles Groot is guaranteed to face in these next few months, the love and support of Rocket and the others to help him through it. Confidence for Rocket’s constant encouragement through the trials and tribulations that these obstacles are certain to produce. Lastly, Happiness for when Groot has an especially rough day in his recovery, that he can look at his family and their undying love for him.

But fear quickly took ahold of Groot. He tried to scream even though he had a breathing tube down his throat. He has no idea of where he was, how he got here, or what has happened to him. Rocket tries desperately to calm him down to no avail.

”Groot, it’s me.” Rocket shakily said as he looked at his son. “It’s me, Groot. Daddy.” There was no response from the teen as he continued to silently scream. Instant worry flooded Rocket. “Can- can he hear me?”

“I don’t know.” Kalika admitted as she gave Groot some medication to calm him down through his IV line. “Since he’s conscious now, we can take him to the labs to determine the exact amount of brain damage he suffered.”

Groot calmed down moments after the medicine entered his body. Rocket stroked Groot’s face in an effort to comfort him and agreed to the tests for him and signed the consent form. But no matter what Rocket did, Groot was still scared and confused about everything going on around him and wouldn’t stop trying to scream.

Rocket tries to soothe Groot one last time before he is taken to get those tests done. “Alright, Groot. You’ll be alright. I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? I love you, son.” Rocket kisses Groot on his cheek just before Kalika takes him in his bed down to the exam rooms.

After Groot is inside the elevator at the end of the ICU wing and the doors close, Rocket turned back to face the other Guardians. The look in his face says everything. Even though Groot was out of the coma, he faced an uphill battle with his recovery. Rocket doesn’t know what to do.

“Rocket.” Gamora began as she placed her arm around Rocket’s shoulder as she pulled him in close in an embrace. “No matter what Groot can or can’t do, he’s still your son.”

“Yeah, she’s right.” Peter added. ���Your love for him never lessens, it only gets stronger.”

“But, didn’t you guys see him?” Rocket asked. “It’s like he’s forgotten everything and all he knows now is the unceasing pain that he’s in.”

Rocket’s body language told the others that the raccoon was about to give up all hope on Groot.

“Rocket, you’re not going to give up on Groot.” Drax interjected. “Groot wouldn’t give up on you if you were in his situation, so don’t do it to him.”

Rocket took out an old photo of him and Groot in happier times. “I guess you guys are right.” He agreed. “I can’t give up on him. I gotta be here for him, no matter what.”

Just then, Kalika returned with Groot, who was still silently screaming in pain while he laid down in his bed. “Look who’s back!” She cheerfully said as she pushed Groot’s bed into its normal spot.

Rocket was anxious to hear the results from the evaluation on Groot. “How’d he do? Is he gonna be his old self again?” He implored Kalika. “Well, minus the typical moody teenager crap, of course.” The raccoon added as the other Guardians looked at him weird.

“Well, the good news is that we took a look at his black eye and it has completely healed up to the point where he doesn’t need to have it covered anymore.Rocket  The swelling in his face has vastly diminished too.” Kalika explained as the Guardians saw Groot started to look more like himself and his black eye was completely gone and the bark around it has returned to a healthy color. “We also tested his eyesight and there’s no problems there either.”

“What about his hearing?” Peter asked.

“His hearing was also tested and I’m happy to report that he suffered no impairments to his hearing.” Kalika stated. “But... I’m afraid that’s where the good news ends.”

A lump suddenly formed in Rocket’s throat. “What’s the bad news?” He asked nervously as he stood up.

Kalika placed her hand on Rocket’s shoulder. Her mood took a more somber tone. “I think you should sit down for this.” She implored as the mood in the room suddenly changed.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

15th October >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 11:47-54 for Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time: ‘You have not gone in yourselves’.  

Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA)

Luke 11:47-54

You have not gone in yourselves and have prevented others who wanted to

Jesus said: ‘Alas for you who build the tombs of the prophets, the men your ancestors killed! In this way you both witness what your ancestors did and approve it; they did the killing, you do the building.

‘And that is why the Wisdom of God said, “I will send them prophets and apostles; some they will slaughter and persecute, so that this generation will have to answer for every prophet’s blood that has been shed since the foundation of the world, from the blood of Abel to the blood of Zechariah, who was murdered between the altar and the sanctuary.” Yes, I tell you, this generation will have to answer for it all.

‘Alas for you lawyers who have taken away the key of knowledge! You have not gone in yourselves, and have prevented others going in who wanted to.’

When he left the house, the scribes and the Pharisees began a furious attack on him and tried to force answers from him on innumerable questions, setting traps to catch him out in something he might say.

Gospel (USA)

Luke 11:47-54

The blood of the prophets is required, from the blood of Abel to the blood of Zechariah.

The Lord said: “Woe to you who build the memorials of the prophets whom your fathers killed. Consequently, you bear witness and give consent to the deeds of your ancestors, for they killed them and you do the building. Therefore, the wisdom of God said, ‘I will send to them prophets and Apostles; some of them they will kill and persecute’ in order that this generation might be charged with the blood of all the prophets shed since the foundation of the world, from the blood of Abel to the blood of Zechariah who died between the altar and the temple building. Yes, I tell you, this generation will be charged with their blood! Woe to you, scholars of the law! You have taken away the key of knowledge. You yourselves did not enter and you stopped those trying to enter.” When Jesus left, the scribes and Pharisees began to act with hostility toward him and to interrogate him about many things, for they were plotting to catch him at something he might say.

Reflections (8)

(i) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

This morning we began reading from the letter to the Ephesians, and we will be reading from it on weekdays for the next two weeks. We heard the beginning of the letter this morning. It is a wonderful prayer of praise to God for all the ways that God has blessed us in Christ. It speaks of ‘the richness of the grace which God has showered on us’ through the coming of Christ. In what does this richness of God’s grace consist in? According to the reading, it includes our being adopted as sons and daughters of God, sharing in Christ’s relationship with God, the forgiveness of our sins, and God’s ultimate plan to bring everything together under Christ as head. There is much to ponder here. The gospel which is embodied in the person of Jesus is a wonderfully rich reality which could never be fully explored or appreciated in a human lifetime. Yet, clearly, God wants us to keep growing in our appreciation of this pearl of great price throughout our lives and to share our appreciation of it with others. However, in the gospel reading today, Jesus is very critical of the experts in the ways of God, the lawyers, who were best placed to appreciate the richness of God’s grace in Jesus and to bring others to an appreciation of him. Instead, Jesus says, they have taken away the key of knowledge, not going in themselves and preventing others from going in who wanted to. They refused to respond to God’s wonderful gift to humanity through his Son and they also made it very difficult for others to respond. Our calling, in contrast, is to value the treasure of the gospel, the pearl of great price, and to lead others to appreciate its worth too.

And/Or

(ii) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus accuses the lawyers, the experts in the Jewish Law, of taking away the key of knowledge. These were the theologians of the day who claimed to know God’s will and God’s ways. Yet, when Jesus tried to teach them about God, they refused to learn and they tried to prevent other people from learning from Jesus too. In the words of the gospel reading, they did not go in themselves and they prevented others from going in who wanted to. It seems that their learning and expertise was an obstacle to God’s work in their own lives and in the lives of others. Those who were much less learned were often much more open to the teaching of Jesus. On one occasion Jesus prayed, ‘I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and revealed them to infants’. ‘Infants’ in that context are those who have the openness to learn, to receive from Jesus. We are always learners when it comes to the Lord. We are always on the way towards knowing him more fully, not just with our head but with our heart. We need the Lord to be our teacher. On one occasion the disciples came before the Lord like ‘infants’, like people who wanted to learn. ‘Teach us to pray’, they said to him. It is this humble, seeking, attitude that the Lord delights in and responds to.

 And/Or

(iii) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

We all have knowledge of some kind or another. No one knows everything about everything, yet everyone has some knowledge about some things. We try to benefit from each other’s knowledge and experience. If we need a certain job done we get someone who knows something about that particular job. We don’t try to attempt what we know nothing about. We need to share what we know and to receive from others what they know. We serve out of our knowledge and receive out of our ignorance. In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus addresses the lawyers, the experts in the Jewish Law, theologians as we might call them today. Jesus states that they have taken away the key of knowledge, not going in themselves and preventing others from going in who wanted to. As theologians they should have recognized God acting in Jesus. However, not only have they failed to recognize God in Jesus; they have prevented others from doing so. Their religious knowledge was an obstacle to God’s work in their own lives and in the lives of others. Whatever knowledge we have, in whatever area, including the area of religion, it has to serve our relationship with God and other people’s relationship with God. Our search for knowledge is, ultimately, a search for God and needs to be at the service of that greater search.

 And/Or

(iv) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus criticizes the lawyers, the experts in the Jewish Law, the Law of God, for taking away the key of knowledge. They have failed to come to know God themselves, as Jesus reveals him, and have prevented others from coming to know God. Their calling was to be teachers of the ways of God, but they have not been true to that calling. Jesus himself was the key to the knowledge of God, because he reveals God more fully than any other human being could. In rejecting Jesus, the lawyers were taking away the key of knowledge, failing to recognize God at work in Jesus for themselves and not allowing others to discover God in Jesus either. God has given us the key to knowing him, by giving us Jesus. Jesus is the key to the knowledge of God, and we are all learners. Indeed, we will always be learners when it comes to God. The mistake is to think ourselves learned and clever when it comes to God. On the contrary we are more like infants, always having much to learn. Only if we recognize that will we come to know God more fully. That is why Jesus prayed a little earlier in Luke’s gospel, ‘I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the learned and the clever and have revealed them to infants’.

 And/Or

(v) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

Today’s first reading is from the letter to the Ephesians. We will be reading from that letter for the next two weeks. It is a very beautiful letter, with a great richness of language and message. Many scholars hold that it was not written by Paul himself, but written by one of his disciples in Paul’s name sometime after Paul died. If that is the case, it is a letter that is worthy of Paul. We have just heard the opening verses of the letter, which take the form of a prayer of blessing, ‘Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ…’ God is blessed because of all that God has done for us through Christ. The prayer blesses God because of the richness of God’s grace that has been showered on us through Christ. We know all about showers in this climate. The next time we are tempted to give out about yet another shower, we might think of that line from the letter to the Ephesians, ‘the richness of God’s grace which God has showered on us’. According to that prayer, God has graced us because through the blood of Christ we gain our freedom, the forgiveness of our sins. That is why, in the words of the prayer, we are moved ‘to praise the glory of God’s grace’, which is what we do every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Having been graced by God, we give God thanks and try to live graced lives.

 And/Or

(vi) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus is very critical of lawyers in today’s gospel reading. In those days, lawyers were not what we think of as lawyers today. They were the experts in the Jewish Law, in God’s Law. They were regarded as people who had pondered long and hard on the ways of God as revealed in the Scriptures. They are more like what we would call theologians today. There was an expectation that they were the ones who would have the key to the knowledge of God, knowledge that they would share with others. However, Jesus says that they have taken away this key of knowledge. When God was making himself known in a new way in the person of Jesus, these experts in the Law were deaf and blind to what God was showing them and they were preventing others from learning these new ways of God as well. As Jesus says in our gospel reading, ‘you have not gone in yourselves, and have prevented others going in who wanted to’. Their knowledge was a block to their own learning and to other people learning too. The gospel reading is reminding us that when it comes to the ways of God we all need to be very humble, recognizing that we are always learners. Just a few chapters before this passage Jesus bless God for ‘hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children’. Before God we all need to recognize our status as ‘children’, as people at the beginning of a journey. We come before God acknowledging how little we know, because it is always the case that his ways are not ways and his thoughts are not our thoughts, and his wisdom is never the wisdom of this age.

 And/Or

(vii) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

At one point in this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus is very critical of the lawyers. The lawyer in the time of Jesus was the expert in religious law. He had made a special study of God’s law, both the written law in the Scriptures and also the oral law that had grown up around that written law and that sought to apply the written law to the changing circumstances of people’s daily lives. They lawyers were considered experts in the understanding of God’s will for people’s lives, as that will was expressed in God’s laws both written and oral. They had the potential to penetrate to the truth of what God wants of us. However, Jesus accuses them of failing in their task. Yes, they have the key of knowledge, the key that gives access to God’s truth for our lives, but they haven’t used this key to gain access to this truth for themselves, and more seriously they have become an obstacle to others gaining this truth. Jesus speaks here as the one who is himself the access to God’s truth, to God’s will for our lives. He is the door; he is the key to the door. In looking at what Jesus does and in listening to what he says we discover God’s truth. Elsewhere in the gospel Jesus declares that it is above all the wise and the intelligent, people like the experts in the Jewish law, who are failing to receive this revelation of God’s truth in Jesus, whereas, what he calls, ‘infants’ are doing so with ease. Perhaps the gospel reading is suggesting that sometimes learning and intelligence can be a block to faith, in so far as it makes us too sure of our own position. We need to bend low to receive God’s visitation in Jesus, to humble ourselves, to become like little children.

 And/Or

(viii) Thursday, Twenty Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s gospel reading Jesus criticizes the lawyers, the experts in Jewish religious law, for taking away the key of knowledge. Their study should have given them access to God’s truth and to the person of Jesus who was the full revelation of God’s truth. However, not only are they in the process of rejecting Jesus, they are also influencing others to do the same. In the words of the gospel reading, ‘they have not gone in themselves and have prevented others going in who wanted to’. Jesus was always very critical of those who were an obstacle to other people coming to faith in him, who prevented others from coming to discover him as God’s truth for themselves. If, like the lawyers, we do not go in ourselves, if we are not trying to come to Jesus ourselves, then we will not be able to lead others to Jesus and may well find ourselves preventing others from coming to him. The reverse is also true. As we grow in our relationship with Jesus, we make it easier for others to do the same. We have an influence on each other’s faith, in one direction or another. If we are trying to grow in our faith, we won’t necessarily lead others to the Lord. However, if our faith is growing ever weaker, we certainly won’t lead others to the Lord. Our primary responsibility is to go in ourselves, in the language of the gospel reading. Having done so, we can be sure that the Lord will find a way to work through us to touch the lives of others.

Fr. Martin Hogan.