#it's a messy situation and it remains to be seen whats the outcome

[takkamek]

I've been going back and forth about the whole "Vox, Ike and Elira were forced to make that statement". because while it wouldn't surprise me to hear that nijikuro did pressure them, choosing the fan favorites to make that statement..... the two outcomes would be; the three are able to manipulate and sway public opinion to their side which then obviously makes niji look good; or what happened, backlash against Vox, Ike and Elira, so they're now less inclined to leave because fewer fans are willing to support them if they leave.

Vox is the golden boy and there's always been clear favoritism towards him and luxiem, so him not realizing it/wanting to keep that power makes sense. he clearly has a big voice in the company, and many come to him for advice, it's not surprising that he felt threatened. Ike is a big fan favorite, and to my knowledge has always seen as the 'reasonable' and chill/kind liver. but he is a big part of the music side--i remember seeing his name in the credits of many covers/og songs. so "if ike, of all people, is saying this, it must be true!" -is what nijikuro wanted the fans to think. Elira is also a big fan favorite and is like ''assistant manager'' as she's stated (iirc) that she does management work, giving her a lot of power over others, so her seeing those documents doesn't surprise me, even though legally she shouldn't have.

from what i've seen, people now bringing up clips from old, some deleted, streams, The Clique is/was real and connecting the dots ain't that hard. of course i'd like to believe the best in them but with everything coming to light, i think i can only give the benefit of the doubt to the livers whose names haven't been brought out--though i will extend this to scarle and aster as those were clearly fake screenshots.

maybe the management was pressuring vox, ike and elira to make that statement. but they could've said no, they could've chosen to be stealth suspended/terminated--it wouldn't have been easy but they could've done that. elira has a work visa in japan, yes, so nijikuro could've lied and pressured her to think that she'd be in huge legal trouble if they fired her then, but that's not true; iirc after firing you're allowed to stay in the country for 2-3 months w/ work visa.

so even if they come out later and say they were pressured, threatened to make that statement and they apologize for it.... unless something new and horrible things come out as well from the way nijikuro bullies/harasses/abuses their livers, a simple apology isn't enough for me. someone almost died, their friend almost died yet they're standing with the company.

and the worst part is that this all could've been kept under wraps. doki didn't say that she faced bullying and harassment from livers, nijikuro did that themselves, and vox, ike and elira added to it by naming themselves and enna and millie. So all of this would've stayed behind the scenes had nijisanji wanted that--had they agreed to allow selen graduate on somewhat good terms

[taylorvaughnsaidso]

“Am I wrong?” Legally speaking, yes. Again, the fact that they were planning to move to the UK is largely irrelevant to the courts because the conditions under which those plans were made - them being married and both moving together - no longer exist. Pre-divorce plans don’t contradict anything because they no longer matter. Joe can simply say he’s changed his mind now that they’re divorcing and now feels the children should remain in the US, where he’ll argue they had a more settled life because they either hadn’t actually moved yet or hadn’t lived there long enough to have a more established life than they had in the US. That’s the whole reason Sophie’s filing tries so hard to establish that the kids were already living in the UK, going to the doctor and dentist there etc., because just saying they planned to move there honestly doesn’t really matter. Joe doesn’t have to prove that he never planned to move to the UK (although he may well try if he has any evidence that he feels disputes that claim), just that he children shouldn’t move there *now*.

This is what I mean when I say we won’t know what kind of case he actually has until we can see his response. If he has little or nothing to dispute Sophie’s claims about where the children were living for the past few months AND no compelling evidence that they had a settled life in the US, then he doesn’t have much of one and will likely be ordered to relinquish the passports unless the judge rules that they lived in the UK for too short of a time to declare it their rightful home regardless (which is possible). But if he has anything showing that the kids were participating in daily life in the US - likely similar things to what Sophie claimed like doctors, dentist, extracurriculars - to an equal or greater degree than they were in the UK, or if he has anything that calls any of Sophie’s claims into question - photos of the kids with metadata showing they were taken in the US during a time she claimed they were in the UK (even if she says they were just visiting, it becomes he said/she said unless she can prove it), evidence that the kids’ school registrations and such that Sophie mentions were arranged too recently to truly show that they were settled into UK life for a sufficient length of time, evidence that the kids also saw the doctor or dentist in the states just as recently so that doesn’t indicate permanent residence, etc. - his case becomes stronger and hers weaker. He could also potentially have something that might allow him to call the whole petition into question and argue Sophie doesn’t truly want the kids in the UK and is just weaponizing the legal system to punish him, or intends to withhold the kids if she’s able to remove them from the country (if, for example, she said anything about “making him pay” in court or that he’ll be lucky if she ever brings the kids back/lets him see them again after she takes them - both very common sentiments said in anger that I’ve personally seen parents get in trouble over before - then this could potentially backfire on her all together, including possibly leading to an Uno reverse card situation where *she* ends up on the hook for threatening parental abduction).

Legally speaking, the reality is that this case just isn’t as cut and dry as people want it to be. Even in the absolute best of circumstances, which this case clearly doesn’t have, international custody cases are *always* complex and get messy extremely fast. It’s almost enough to make you think the Parent Trap parents were right to just each take one kid and never speak again. It’s understandable that everyone wants a certain outcome but as much as we can all agree that Joe is a dick, at the end of the day being a dick is not illegal and he’s not on trial for it. Sophie could very well end up on top in the end, but her case simply isn’t the automatic legal slam dunk that people want to believe it is.

Ah thank you! Just going to post as is - this is a great legal summation of the situation.

[redwineconversation]

Amandine Henry Le Progrès Article (April 25, 2023)

I think when you've been in a relationship for this long, the breakup is always going to be bitter and messy. Both sides feel a deep sense of betrayal akin to heartbreak because of the other's actions.

That being said, there is no outcome where Henry doesn't look like an unprofessional dick in this scenario. Mindblowingly unprofessional from a player who prides herself on being the opposite.

Amandine Henry sidelined due to conflict with Olympique Lyonnais

The 33-year-old midfield, whose contract with Olympique Lyonnais is up end of June, is on sick leave while the club currently refuses to release her to join Angel City. She no longer wishes to play out of fear of injuring herself and compromises her contract with the Californian club. [Le Progres] having reached out, Sonia Bompastor clarifies things.

What is going on with Amandine Henry? The Lyon player, who should have already returned to the field after having injured her knee at the beginning of March, suffered "a little setback in her comeback," Sonia indicated on April 16 in the postgame following the Olympique Lyonnais victory over Paris FC (2-0). That day, the head coach OL Feminin confided that she hoped to have the return of her No. 6 player within the next couple of weeks. Since then, no news.

For cause, as this saga goes beyond the medical aspect. "Amandine was ready to return to the group this week," Sonia Bompastor confessed. The Lyon coach explains the actual complicated situation between the club and the 33-year-old midfield, who is on sick leave two months before the end of her contract. And tells the story from the beginning. In January, during the preseason and bonding camp in Sables d'Olonne. "We discussed her future at that moment. At the time, she had several options: extend with Lyon or go elsewhere. At the end of February, she comes to me and tells me about a project with Los Angeles franchise [Angel City], for a contract of 3 and 1/2 years. She asked me what I thought. I told her it's great, from a sporting pointing of view and as a lifestyle. She seems rather relieved by my reaction," Bompastor remembers.

Bompastor: "I am shooting myself in the foot if I let her leave"

And she continues the story: "Following that, she comes back pretty quickly to see me and tells me that Angel City wants her immediately. She asks me to let her go before the end of the season. I told her that she is an important player, that my team is better with her than without her, and that it was impossible for me to let her and that I wanted to keep her."

Then comes the quarter final in the Coupe de France against Reims, on March 4. Henry injures her knee right at the end of the game. "She came very close to a devastating injury. Everyone was really afraid [of the worse]. Thankfully, only the interior lateral ligament was affected," Bompastor relays. Who, once again solicited by Henry while the latter was rehabbing, maintained her stance. But proposed nevertheless to the player to touch base again after the quarter finals of the Champions League.

Eliminated by Chelsea at the end of March, Lyon is no longer in the running for a European trophy. But the Coupe de France and the league remain to "save" their season. Meaning two significant confrontations against PSG, on May 13 and 21, for which Bompastor is counting on Henry.

It remains to be seen if the emblematic No. 6 will participate. The situation seems to be at a stalemate, no agreement having been reached between the player and Lyon, each refusing to move from their position. Amandine Henry refusing - for the moment - to play, in order to avoid injuring herself and putting her contract with Angel City at risk.

Up to the point of taking the risk of not playing between now and the end of May? And compromise her chances of being part of the list of 23 players chosen by Herve Renard for the upcoming 2023 World Cup? "Obviously I hope things will sort themselves out. As a former player, I understand her from a human perspective. But as a coach, I also have to defend the club's interests. And from a sporting aspect, I cannot let Amandine go: she is always present in the big matchups. I will be shooting myself in the foot if I let her leave," Bompastor concludes.

[rocorambles]

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.  

OR

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that. 

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back. 

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands. 

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals. 

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

Crap. 

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend. 

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway. 

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed. 

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself. 

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one. 

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.  

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?” 

Oh. OH. 

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds. 

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret. 

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside. 

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip. 

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit. 

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after. 

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate. 

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room. 

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you. 

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me." 

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant. 

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway. 

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow." 

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away. 

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other. 

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words. 

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you. 

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?” 

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum. 

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman. 

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?” 

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full. 

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure. 

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.” 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you. 

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him. 

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other. 

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face. 

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture. 

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting. 

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

[moved-to-void-kissed]

Split of Twin Flowers

After being rescued from the realm of darkness, Aria seeks a way to give Ves a chance at living her own life, while also continuing to survive in her own right. Aqua brings her to the scientists at Radiant Garden to see if they have a solution, and for Aria to explain her situation, but the only option available may carry some worrying implications.. (3937 words)

Takes place after the ending of KH3. Content warning for mentions of battle scars, talk of a character being possessed, an event comparable to an exorcism (it’s kind of hard to explain in non-series-specific terms, sorry), and rather a lot of self-insert-focused exposition.

(Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required. I recommend reading this piece on the original document, but if that doesn't work, a transcript has been copied and pasted under the readmore.)

tag list: @thatslikesometaldude | @garchompp | @beeon | @tex-treasures | @catake | @tartaglialovemail | @catcao | @lilacslovers | @kissofthemoonrabbit | @vilehusband | @dragonsmooch | @childrenofmeyneth | @kalliopi-ships | @blackbirdcrime | @strawberryshipz (to be tagged in what I make, please click here!)

This is a piece I have been working on for a long time, and am very proud of, so I really appreciate anyone who takes the time to read it. I hope it isn’t quite as heavy as the content warnings may possibly indicate. I’m also using it as my post for the twenty-ninth day of sapphic September; there’s just one more to go!

Document transcript:

The door to the laboratory opened halfway, and a young woman tentatively poked her head around it. Upon seeing that she was not interrupting anything, she smiled and emerged more properly, brushing a lock of blue hair from her face.

“Oh, Master Aqua!” The lone scientist in the room smiled warmly as he noticed her. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Thank you, Ienzo.” Aqua replied, even if she did still in fact look rather tired. The long battle to defeat Master Xehanort and the true Organisation still felt fresh in her mind, and although it was a fight that the light had eventually won, it had still taken quite a toll on her. Not only that, but she hadn’t had the same chance to rest as the others - though thoughts of locating Sora still weighed on everyone’s minds, Aqua had been more concerned with finding a way back into the realm of darkness in order to rescue Aria, her partner who she had so unwillingly abandoned..

Now that Aria was finally free as well, Aqua could let herself relax a bit more, and with that lowering of her guard came much contemplation of everything she had gone through.

“Um.. Master Aqua?”

“Ah!”

She’d been staring off into space again, judging by Ienzo’s worried expression half-visible under his hair.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry!” she replied, slightly embarrassed at her lapse in concentration. The young scientist did not look entirely convinced, but he seemed content enough to continue.

“I’m the only one here at the moment, but I should still be able to help with what we talked about over the Gummiphone. Did you happen to bring Aria with you?”

At this, the half-open door Aqua had come through continued to swing open as if of its own accord, only to reveal another young woman entering the laboratory with a somewhat nervous expression. She had clearly been through a lot, and the realm of darkness she had reportedly been trapped in for aeons had definitely left its mark on her; several large patches of darkness could be seen spanning her face and body, with one reaching down her left eye like a melting wound.

“Yes, I’m here..”

Her catlike eyes flickered nervously around the room, and it soon became apparent that what Ienzo had thought was a cape were in fact a pair of black feathered wings, both subconsciously curling around her shoulders. It was only upon recognising that Ienzo was the only one present, and that his initial reaction to seeing her was not as negative as she was expecting, that she was able to relax slightly and explain herself from behind a now-steeled facade.

“My name is Aria.” she said, looking up at the scientist from under her messy blonde hair. “Aqua said you might be able to help me achieve something. Has she already.. told you about, well-”

“We’ve already spoken a little bit using the Gummiphone I was given before, but he said it was best for us to come and talk in person to try and get everything clear.” Aqua stepped in after sensing Aria’s hesitation and took her hand to support her partner. “It’s alright - you can trust him,” she whispered close to her ear.

Trusting only in her love’s reassurance, Aria started to explain her intentions to Ienzo, who seemed content to listen even considering the clear presence of darkness she had; this silent gesture of tolerance was greatly appreciated. She appeared hesitant to reveal much of her true nature as a Heartless, but she did what she could to inquire whether the young scientist knew any way for a heart to be released from its current body and inhabit a different one, allowing the dormant self within the original body to reawaken. Unfortunately, Ienzo remained pensive, even after she had said her part.

“So, you’re looking for a way for a heart to enter a new body? I’m sorry, but.. I’m not sure we’ll be able to help you. Any of the resources we could have used - which is to say, the replicas, they would have been perfect for this - were taken by Roxas, Xion, and Naminé’s hearts.”

“Oh. So, there is nothing you can do?” Aria persisted, but Ienzo shook his head.

Then came a flash of hesitant inspiration.

“Unless..” He trailed off and turned to look down one of the corridors leading away from the main lab space. “Could you two come with me, please?”

“Of course!” said Aqua brightly, as Aria nodded in assent.

==========

The three left the main hub of the laboratory to walk down the corridor, which felt as though it was turning downwards into a basement level of sorts. Once there, they came to a tall door which Ienzo unlocked with some sort of biometric scanner, and this opened out into yet another laboratory space with a similar layout to the first - however, this one seemed in a less presentable condition than the other, and its lack of windows seemed to be what was giving it a more foreboding presence. There was a distinct sense that something bad had happened here, once upon a time.

“After you and the other Guardians of Light helped to defeat Master Xehanort,” Ienzo was saying to Aqua, “we went back to the Keyblade Graveyard to see if there was anything to salvage from the battlefield, and we were able to bring this back with us.”

He gestured to a container at the far wall, in which the two Keyblade wielders could now see a strange white figure suspended inside, resembling a featureless mannequin. It appeared to be dressed in some kind of dark robes, of a dull purple colour inlaid with sharp red motifs, worn over pieces of tarnished metal armour. A number of scuffs and dents littered the otherwise-smooth surface, and Aria could sense traces of a dark presence seeping from the container, despite the blank nature of the figure itself.

“What is this..?”

“This is one of the replicas that Even created, back when he was still Vexen, and a member of the first Organisation.” Ienzo explained. “The first twelve were prototypes, initially abandoned as failures, since they were made before his assistant provided the data needed to perfect them, but.. From what I understand, the real Organisation - which Vexen was also a part of at the beginning - repurposed those twelve into vessels for Xehanort’s heart, as backups in case the people they brought through time fell in battle again.”

“That’s right, I remember fighting these now.” muttered Aqua. “But, didn’t they fuse into one form, eventually?”

“That’s what I thought, too, from your accounts of the situation.” replied the scientist. “I’m not sure if Sora defeating the replicas in battle made them all separate out again, since they weren’t really designed to be fused, or if this one was already too damaged to combine with the others in the first place. Regardless, it was the only one we recovered.”

He now turned to face the blank figure with a concerned expression. “We’ve been running some experiments to see whether it can be repurposed for anything, but.. There’s a lot of darkness still lingering within it, so it wouldn’t be safe for a heart of light to inhabit without risking it also being afflicted by that darkness. And we haven’t found a good way of destroying that darkness without compromising the replica, either.”

“I could sense the dark power when I saw it, so corruption would seem a likely outcome.” Aria mused. “This would also be darkness from Xehanort, so.. it isn’t that surprising that some part of it stuck around. Persistence did seem to be his only worthwhile trait.”

She had crossed her arms in contempt at this last part, but seemed satisfied enough to relax after studying the replica further. “It shouldn’t matter any more than he did in the long run, though.”

“Hmm..” Aqua seemed concerned about the prospect, but was trying to keep an open mind. “What do you make of it, Aria?”

“Well..” She took a moment to examine the figure with an unchanging expression. “The replica body itself has sustained some damage from the fight, but I don’t see why that would affect my ability to inhabit it - it’s just possible that those injuries would reflect in my new appearance, which is.. nothing I’m not accustomed to. And, if the heart within a replica determines its appearance, then maybe what’s left of my heart - or, I suppose, the heart that I once was - would be able to smooth over those gaps. Though, if it’s the latter, that could mean my appearance ends up changing, which.. is not what I want.”

Aqua tentatively nodded, but Ienzo seemed more visibly confused.

“I’m sorry to interject, but- what do you mean by “the heart that you once were”? You’re saying that that’s different to your heart, somehow?”

“..In a sense, yes. How do I explain this..?” There was a slight pause as Aria tried to gather her thoughts, and it was clear she was still trying to think by the hesitant nature of her words that followed. She had seen right through to the heart of the man standing before her, which glowed with a newly-restored lustre. It was a heart that sought to help people, and sought knowledge in order to do that, though there were visible flickers of a long-seated regret present as well. Still, it was a heart that she judged would not judge her, so she decided to provide it with the truth she hoped would sate it.

“Though I look mostly human to you, this- isn’t technically my body, however much I treated it as such. If I were to let go of this vessel, or be driven out from her, you would see me as I really am - a Heartless, a flowering thing. However, Heartless are created when a heart is consumed by darkness, so.. surely the appearance I would take if I were to possess a blank replica would be that of the person this heart - my heart - used to belong to. Only, I don’t- I don’t really see myself as him, or as Ves. I am different, I am my own- well, person, if I can even call myself that. Yet, when I imagine my appearance outside of this vessel, I can only see myself as a Heartless. Does that make any sense?”

“I think I follow..” the scientist mumbled, though his still-furrowed brow seemed to indicate otherwise. “So, you kept your memories of who you were, even after turning into a Heartless? Kairi had implied that the same thing happened to Sora, but.. I’d just attributed that to him turning the Keyblade of heart on himself to free her, so it wouldn’t have happened to anyone else.”

This claim caused Aria to shake her head. “To my knowledge, the method is irrelevant; what matters is the intention. The more willingly a person opens their heart to the darkness, the more of their mind they keep when their heart is consumed, and they become a Heartless. I believe this is what happened with Ansem, though he actively sought after darkness so strongly that he retained a human appearance as well as mind. The emblem on his chest was the only way an onlooker could tell his true nature. When it comes to my original self, he was a Keyblade wielder, very similar to what I know of Sora, but… though he certainly did not willingly or deliberately let his heart be consumed, he was able to accept his fate in his final moments, and that is what allowed the Heartless formed at his demise - so, in other words, me - to retain some semblance of mind and self. Just.. not as much of it.”

“Oh. Yes, I think that makes more sense now. Thank you for the clarification.” said Ienzo. He was writing something furiously in a book that seemed to appear out of nowhere, then became startled when he realised his blunder. In an instant, he opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it with relief when Aria’s expression reassured him she did not mind him making notes about her.

It was Aqua’s turn to speak up now. “It’s so interesting to hear about this from you, Aria - but, I can’t say I’ve seen that kind of behaviour in any of the Heartless I’ve fought before. Had you noticed it at any point while we were in the realm of darkness?”

“Not that I can recall.” she replied. “It isn't exactly that common of an occurrence, considering most people’s disdain for the darkness. And, not only that, but..” She turned away from the other two here, and her next words came much more reluctantly again.

“Before I took over Ves, I remember feeling that I was losing myself - all I was driven by was this desire to be complete again, to be human again, but that was fading away over time. Then, when I found her, I didn’t necessarily feel more human, but what sense of humanity I did have was no longer fading away. So, if I hadn’t found her or someone like her in time, I probably would have lost my sense of self completely, and become just as mindless as most other Heartless are. It’s only thanks to the type of Heartless I became that I was even able to possess her in the first place, and.. I didn’t start to truly feel more like a person until I met other Keyblade wielders, and they interacted with me.”

“I see, I see.. So you’re saying that, in those Heartless that retain a sense of who they were before becoming Heartless, the remnants of normal heart behaviour - of humanity, if you will - have to be nurtured by others in order to be sustained, and will just be lost to the darkness if not actively encouraged?”

“Yes.”

Ienzo paused to finish hastily scribbling this knowledge down in his notebook, then lifted his head in realisation once he had had some time to think. “I think I might remember something of that from the old Organisation, actually.. Though, the memory is very hazy..”

To stop his mind from wandering as it wanted to, he returned to address the matter at hand.

“From what you’ve said, Aria, it does sound like you’d be able to make use of this replica - and you may well be the only one who could. I don’t think there’s any other solution here for you, and.. I say there’s no better way to find out than by experimenting. Give me a moment to get everything ready, and then we’ll be set to see if it works!”

Aria nodded, content with the proposal, but Aqua reached out to take her hand with a worried expression.

“Aria, are you sure you want to do this..?”

“Of course I am, Aqua. This is why I came here.” she replied. Then she hesitated again. “..Why, is there something wrong?”

“Well, no, it’s just-” Aqua took a moment to settle her whirling thoughts, holding both of Aria’s hands in her own now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when I use my Keyblade on you. I don’t want to hurt you, or even destroy you. And, if something happened with the darkness infecting the replica, then..”

Aria couldn’t bring herself to meet Aqua’s gaze, but it was clear she appreciated the consideration, and did her best to reassure her love. “If I could leave of my own accord, I would have done so by now, but.. we’ve become too intertwined for me to do that myself. And Ves is not quite strong enough to drive me out from within - it’s enough of an effort for her to stay existing in the first place. So.. an outside force seems to be the only way to separate us. And there isn’t anyone I’d trust to wield that force, other than you.”

Despite herself, Aqua couldn’t help but smile at the last admission, and she felt her normal confidence returning. “..Alright then. If you’re sure about this, then.. I’m happy to be able to help.”

The two embraced for a moment, then there was a pause of silence as Aria took a few steps back to stand in the middle of the room. Once Ienzo had brought the replica out of its container, he carried it around to the other end of the laboratory, closer to the other two. Aqua summoned her Brightcrest Keyblade, then slowly raised its tip to be level with the X on Aria’s outfit. She took a deep breath, then pointed the Keyblade directly at her partner, echoing the movement used to open the paths to new worlds.

Aria instinctively flinched when a thin beam of bright light shot forward from the tip of Aqua’s Keyblade, striking her directly in the chest. She was then forced down into a kneel as an aura of pink-tinted darkness began to escape from her body. Her expression was grim, as if she was in pain, but Aqua caught sight of a hint of a smile before the darkness now emanating much more rapidly from her form started rising up to create something above her. It almost completely engulfed her body as if to pull it upwards too, seeming particularly concentrated around her head and wings, before disconnecting entirely to drop a drained figure to the floor. This left a dense collection of dark pink wisps, amalgamating in the air.

Ienzo was now well off to the side, looking rather alarmed, but his expression was replaced with complete surprise when the amorphous cluster of darkness coalesced, giving way to what looked like a floating mass of pink petals. Eventually, it turned around to reveal a large jagged mouth and piercing yellow eyes, staring with an expression he found difficult to interpret. The Heartless stayed floating in place for a moment, as if disoriented, then suddenly appeared to notice Aqua, staring at her curiously.

“Aria..?”

Her tentative call was clearly recognised by the flowering monster, which began to float cautiously towards her. She still had her Keyblade summoned, and her hand was trembling ever-so-slightly - whether with nervousness, uncertainty, or something else entirely, it was impossible to tell. Then, Ienzo stepped between the two and lifted up the replica body, hoping that Aria still remembered the plan.

“Here!”

It seemed the Heartless remained aware, as she moved forwards more purposefully after this, and collided directly with the empty vessel’s centre. A few petals scattered from the force, but it took only a few moments for the Heartless’ form to disappear entirely, appearing to be absorbed into the replica body. This caused another aura of darkness to manifest, enveloping the blank surface of the replica and making Ienzo recoil from the body - but it caught itself as it fell from his grasp to end up kneeling on all fours. A few more moments passed, as the darkness engulfed the entire body in a shell, before gradually dissipating after a few gold sparks were seen being forced out of the system.

The figure that stood up was slightly smaller than the replica had looked in the container, with catlike ears now poking upwards from a fluffy head of golden blonde hair. As she lifted her head, a cluster of cute freckles were seen scattered across her face, though in what Aqua thought was a slightly different arrangement than before. There were other little differences here and there, as well - the shape of her face, the way her hair fell at the back, how she stood dressed in the unfamiliar clothes from the replica in the middle of the silent laboratory.

But all of Aqua’s worries disappeared when the girl standing before her opened her eyes. Neither the bright, empty yellow of the lesser, mindless Heartless, nor a piercing orange like the seeker of darkness, nor even the harsh cold shade between the two that Aria’s eyes had been before, but a warm and resolute amber was the colour that met Aqua’s gaze, and regarded her with a renewed sense of gratitude and love.

“Aria!”

The Keyblade Master ran across the room towards her partner and nearly knocked her over with the energy of her emotions. Aria was nervous, but comfortably allowed herself to melt into Aqua’s embrace, now able to feel the connection between the pair even more strongly than before. Something felt so much more tangible about her presence now, and the relief coursing through her new body was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Aqua, it really worked..!” she smiled, speaking in a quiet voice filled with gratitude.

“I’m so glad you’re alright!” exclaimed Aqua, who also had a few tears in her eyes. “How do you feel? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s all fine, I promise.” she asserted. “The replica’s darkness was not organised; it was just remnants that my presence has removed. I feel.. different, but in the best possible way. I could never have done this without you here with me - thank you, so much, for being here..”

She trailed off, still smiling at her partner, and another wonderful moment came and went. Then, a movement from behind Aqua caused Aria’s expression to take on a slightly fearful quality, and she turned her head to see what was happening. The cause of this movement was the figure left behind when Aqua set Aria free, who was slowly trying to get to her feet, her heart’s light flickering nervously. A bright green eye could be seen darting anxiously around the room from under her hair, but she was too weak to properly move, and quickly fell back to the ground again. Ienzo stepped in to support her, and his assistance was clearly welcomed as she was just about able to stand.

“Please take her somewhere she can recover.” Aria requested hurriedly. “After everything I put her through, she needs every opportunity she can to rest and adjust to being herself again..”

“Don’t worry. We have good facilities here.” Ienzo assured her. “Everything will be fine.”

This did little to ease Aria’s guilt, but the gesture was nevertheless appreciated. “Thank you, Ienzo.”

The scientist nodded, and then slowly helped the girl walk to the corridor. She appeared to be very shaken, and was glancing at everything with apprehension and unfamiliarity, but as she turned the corner of the corridor, she looked back at the couple still standing side-by-side, and met the eyes of both her saviour and her prison.

(For all that you have done to me, I know why you do not deserve forgiveness.

But, this is not the first time we have seen each other face-to-face since that day, thanks to that mirror you found in the darkness.

And ever since that moment, you have sought a way to free yourself from me. To let me live the life you once denied me. To break the hold that any other being you’d call your kind would do everything to strengthen.

You calculated the risks, but you still took them - the risk you would lose everything and the one person you cared for, for the sake of me getting to “get rid of you”.

So, who am I to judge a person - the person you have become - by the actions of the creature you once were..?)

A ghost of a smile flickered over her face, and the long-held vessel finally free again spoke of her own accord for the first time since the age of ancient fairytales.

“Thank you, Aria..”

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

The Forgotten - Chapter Five Punishment

Here is the fifth Installment

Full story here

Warning: Blood, gore, mild torture, mild smut

 Aurora utilized those precious few moments she still had with Leo, running her hands over his face, arms and torso drinking in as much of him as possible, before they came for him. He looked so peaceful lying there, eyes closed, taking even unhurried breaths. Like so many times before when she’d wake before them memorizing every scar and scrute as they dreamed peacefully, another life time, so far away.

 Leaning forward she took her final taste of his lips as the door opened to her room.

Aurora ordered Leonardo’s unconscious body returned to the location they had apprehended him. He couldn’t stay in the base, no matter how bad she wanted to keep him close. Though if and when Donnie returned, the genius would want access to his brothers. But she needed him out of there before he escaped and gave away their location to Bishop’s troops. Her first priority was to the people here, if their safe haven was compromised everything would be lost.

 As they hoisted Leonardo onto the cart, Casey stepped in front of Aurora insisting the kunoichi didn’t accompany them. Her first reaction was to object but after a few moments she reluctantly agreed. At this moment she was too emotional, she could change her mind and go get him. So, she added not to be informed of the drop site.

 She watched them prep him for transport; sound canceling headphones were put over his ears set to an annoying brand of music and his eyes covered with dark fabric. Before the hood was pulled over his green crown Aurora bent down cupping his cheeks to gather his warmth in her palms.

 “You have an hour to get him there and get clear before the pressure points wear off. It usually takes a few hours on a human, but the mutagen helps him recover faster, his muscles don’t hold the pressure as long. Don’t stop; don’t engage any hostiles, especially his brothers if you encounter them. Get in and get out.”

 They left with the leader a few minutes later and with a huff Aurora sat down on the edge of her bed. Her hands ran back into the messy sheets finding them still a little damp from their tryst. She suddenly had an insatiable need to smell him again. Crawling onto the mattress her face ran over the sheets taking in his scent that still lingered there. She had touched them all except for Michelangelo today. But she knew when Leo returned home and the youngest found he was the last to leave his scent on her Mikey would rectify that rather quickly.

 Wrapping the blankets still thick with Leonardo’s scent around her, Aurora closed her eyes and found slumber quick to take its hold. Leo’s face flush with pleasure was the last thing she thought of before she fell asleep.

 She slept for several uninterrupted hours cocooned in their memories and smell. It wasn’t until a soft tapping at her door that finally woke her from sleep. Her voice groggy and sleep laden allowed entrance into her room.

 The heavy door opened slowly and April came into focus as her eyes adjusted to the hallway light from the doorway. In her hand was a plate and the wondrous smell of bacon filled the large space.

 “Rise and shine sugar tits. Casey scored some bacon on his way home last night; I thought you’d enjoy some.”

 “That big beautiful idiot, it’s about time he made himself useful.” Sitting up in her bed Aurora’s hands rose above her head to stretch out the sore muscles in her body. “God I think it’s been a year since I’ve had some.” Accepting the plate Aurora bit down on a still hot slab of pork. The salty goodness burst with flavor coating her tongue delightfully and Aurora’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Fuck, that’s delicious and you made it crispy just the way I like it. You do care….”

 “Most days……”

 “Bitch…” Aurora laughed slipping the rest of the piece in her mouth. “How long have I been out?”

 “Ten hours, but you needed it. If it wasn’t for this pipin hot pig and a lead to follow I’d order you to stay in bed a few more. But alas duty calls, I need that fine ass up, showered and in the war room in 30 minutes.” April leaned down to Aurora and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

 “Ok mother.”

 “Don’t sass me little lady. You’re lucky I don’t ground you after last night’s debacle.”

 “You would have done the same.”

 “Touché, I’m just glad no one was killed. He could have easily cleaned house last night. I think if you weren’t here last night it would have been a completely different outcome.”

 “I agree, sadly.”

 April stopped at the door and turned back around to face her friend; her face held the seriousness of the situation but as their eyes met April’s lips curled just a little with mischief. “For…..reasons…..how was it?”

 “Heartbreakingly good.”

 “I’m glad but I’m sorry at the same time.”

 “Thanks.”

 The hot spray of the shower was usually a relief to Aurora, the warmth seeping into her tired muscles and washing away her daily tasks. But the thought of washing away the evidence of Leonardo’s visit was excruciating. What had transpired was dangerous, he had nearly killed her the last time they met, but she could see it in his eyes. He was a desperate man and she gambled with her life, it was stupid but she needed it as much as Leo did….maybe more. That piece he shared was just a taste of what she had been missing all these years. People would think it selfish and maybe it was but what miserable existence they had. All that they had given up, no promise of life with each mission, a little happiness was due every once in a while, no matter how short lived it was. For all she knew she would never see them again.

 Finished with her shower Aurora pulled on fresh clothes and headed out to the war room anxious to hear about the new lead that was found.

  The warmth of her was gone, but as he came to the scent remained strong and evident on his flesh. Taking a deep breath Leo tried to sooth the swimming headache throbbing in his skull. She really did know how to adjust the pressure points on their bodies taking in account of the shells on their backs. Curiouser and curiouser, each time they had an encounter with that woman……Aurora, things seemed to become more confusing yet more clear. If that was possible, someone was lying that he was certain but was his master or the woman who was driving him and his brothers insane? But right now he had bigger problems.

 He had woken up where he had laid his trap. A carefully planned scheme he had worked on for months down the drain because of that woman. That infuriatingly beautiful woman, she really did have some sort of hold on him. Maybe there was truth her to lies, she said something was in him? What did she mean by that?

 Stumbling to his feet Leo began his trek back to main headquarters and Leonardo was not looking forward to reporting his failure to Bishop. The man did not take failure well; his tolerance was paper thin but Leonardo rarely came back with bad news so there was hope…..perhaps. The rebel base was supposed to be overrun with his brothers and Bishop’s men by now. If he hadn’t been weak and sought out the blonde, his mission would have been successful. Her name even if not spoken out loud had a profound effect on the leader. Leo’s heart tightened and his insides spun with an unknown feeling. A feeling that took control of him as he searched for the vexing woman’s room in their base and claimed her in her ridiculously large bed. It could easy fit him and his brothers along with her……like it was meant for them all.

 A sudden vision of Raphael, Mike, and him with another turtle wrapped around Aurora sent his head spinning and his chest constricting in unimaginable pain. It intensified as he focused on the fourth mutant turtle he had never seen before but somehow looked familiar. Purple was wrapped around his skull and he was taller than them all, for some reason he knew he was a genius. Brother? Another heart stopping shot of pain surged through his chest and Leo toppled onto his knees clutching at his harness as he struggled to breath.

 What was that, a memory? Why did it hurt so much? Holding his labored breathing Leo closed his eyes and cleared his mind until the pain passed allowing him to stand and resume his return to base.

 The moment he entered into their home base both Raphael and Michelangelo were on him.

 “Where the fuck have you been? You were supposed to call us hours ago!”

 Leonardo ignored his hothead brothers’ questions pushing past him to make his way towards their shared quarters. He was not in the mood, but Leo should have known Raphael was not one to be ignored. His brother’s large mitt encircled his arm and yanked him to a halt.

 “Fuck you if you think you’re gonna pull the silent leader bullshit today. Despite your failure to inform us of the rebels base Mike and I were fuckin worried.” Raphael whipped his older brother around to look into his eyes. He wanted a fuckin explanation. “You were supposed to get ‘caught’ and taken to their base to escape then tell us where ya were so we could overtake them………” Raphael’s nostrils flared, and his line of questions halted abruptly. The grip on his brother’s arm intensified as his eyes dilated with realization.

 Leo winced at the increasing pressure and tensed further feeling his youngest brother get closer scenting the air as well.

 “Ya bro, what kept you?”

 Raphael leaned in close almost pressing his beak to his brother’s plastron and took in a long pull of air. Then something unexpected happened, his hothead brother pulled away with is mouth open wide in a toothy grin and started to cackle. It was a deep sound that started in the depths of his chest.  “You botched the mission for a piece of blondie?!”  The barreling laughter began to rise. “This is fuckin rich! Mr. Self-control couldn’t keep it in his pants to finish the mission.”

 Mikey hit Raph in the shoulder trying to pull him away from Leo, “Shut up Raph. If Bishop hears that he’ll….”

 Refusing to give Raph the satisfaction of acknowledging his weakness for the woman Leo ripping his arm free and pushed past him but stopped in his tracks nearly running into his master.

 Bishop though smaller than the three brothers stood with such confidence the mutants stepped back falling into line on instinct. The dark shades that sat upon his nose was adjusted and his suit jacket opened with a flick of his thumb and forefinger. “Is this true Leonardo? Did you fail in your mission over the blonde commander?”

 The usually stoic leader’s head fell unable to look Bishop in the eye. “Master, I went to her chambers to subdue her. She is a formidable fighter, but I have a weakness for the woman that I cannot comprehend. I am drawn to her and she welcomes it. I lost myself in her and she took full advantage rendering me unconscious. I will not fail you again Master.”  

 A heavy sigh came from the man as he took his sunglasses from this nose ridge to clean them. “I am disappointed in you Leonardo. You, out of your brothers are the most disciplined and to let a mere woman take you from your mission makes me question your loyalty to me. Was I wrong to give you the highest command in my army?”

 “No Bishop, you were not. I….”

 Bishop cut him off moving past the leader to his younger brothers. “You see Leonardo, when you are the leader; you hold the lives of your men in your hands. The responsibility of the mission, of your success rests on those large shoulders of yours.” Bishop moved around Michelangelo to Raphael. “You see, I chose you. Because I knew you could handle the pressure, but I am aware you are still human….so to speak. You are not without your flaws, but you see, there has to be consequences to your actions.”

 Leonardo did not like the way Bishop was circling his brothers eyeing them like they were prey, “Yes, I am fully prepared to receive my punishment Master.”

 “And receive you shall.” Bishop’s hand reached for the top of Raphael’s shoulder and pulled. “On your knees Raphael. You and your brother are going to help me show your leader what happens when he disappoints me.”

 Honeyed eyes met blue, weary of what was happening, but Raphael swallowed the rising lump in his throat obeying his superior sinking slowly to his knees. “Master Bishop, Leo isn’t the only one distracted by her. Mike and I…..” The man’s hand squeezed painfully into the muscle of his shoulder making the brute wince.

 “Quiet Raphael, know your place.” His hands moved to his glasses and pulled them free of his face and folded them carefully placing them into his jacket pocket. “Your team is small, so the effects of your decisions affect them more, but you ultimately suffer the most.” Bishop leaned down wrapping his long fingers around the hilt of Raphael’s long blade strapped to his side. Slowly he removed the blade from its sheath and rested the business end against the scales of his red banded brother’s arm.

 Leo’s brother instincts kicked in and moved forward to protect his brother. He wanted to reach for his katanas, Bishop was their Master, their commander, their savoir but right now he was threatening the only two people he loved on this miserable planet.

 “Unless you wish for their punishment to be far worse, I suggest you stay where you are Leonardo. And if your brothers do not wish for this to happen to you, I hope they do the same. You need to be taught a lesson Leo; no deed goes unpunished.”

 Movement halted but his senses were still on high alert. Leo’s hands clenched into tight fists and his eyes locked with Raph as his green scales gave way to the sharp metal of his own blade. The tip sunk into the dense tissue and began its decent down the deltoid drawing a steady river of crimson in its wake. “Please, not my brothers, I’ll take this, it’s for me and my failings not theirs. They weren’t even there!” Leo voice had risen in pitch watching Raphael groan in agony but stayed where he was told.

 “That would be too easy, you are self-sacrificing Leonardo so taking this pain, this punishment would not heed the lesson. But if you witnessed your loved ones suffer this, it would be engrained in your memory a constant reminder not to fail me again.”

 “I’m fine fearless, I can take it.” Raphael tried his best not to make a sound while the blade began to carve through the thick muscle of his bicep. His nostrils flared trying to regulate his breathing. Something he was taught..by….not Bishop…..but by who? His mind began to scream at him adding to the excruciating pain radiating through his arm. Raph closed his eyes taking in heavy uneven breaths and a hoard of rats swarmed his vision.

 Bishop paid no attention to Raphael keeping his sight solely on the panicking leader. “You did this, you did this to him. You three are beasts, unworthy of love. You actually think that woman truly cares for you….FOR ANY OF YOU! She is a kunoichi, a deceitful vile whore trying to wear you down, gain your trust so she can find me to kill me.” The blade pulled from Raphael’s flesh with a sickening sound and Bishop thrust the tip into the exposed side of Raphael’s body between his plastron and shell. Almost instantly he began to drag the blade down opening up a large weeping gash in Raphael’s’ side.

 This time Raphael gasped in pain letting out a breathless growl, “F..uh….uck.”

 “You are nothing without me, I am all you have. If it wasn’t for me you would have been put down in the labs I found you in! I spared your lives, ME! I gave you purpose!  The rebels only want information from you nothing more. You are freaks; monsters and they will kill you the first chance they get.”

 Gritting his teeth watching his brother in pain Leo kept the fact the rebels had done no such thing. The only thing they threatened was to take him to R&D and remove what was ‘inside of him’. None of them had looked scared or even disgusted by his appearance.

 Blood was now pooling at the brute’s feet slipping down his green flesh like a waterfall.

 “That’s enough!” Leo couldn’t take it anymore. The look on Raph’s face was cutting into his soul squeezing his heart to the point of him unable to pull in a full breath.  

Bishop’s eyes darkened at the challenge put after a few never ending moments he pulled the knife free turning to Michelangelo to continue his ‘lesson’.

 Not to be outdone by Raph, Mikey held his ground ready to take his part in all of this. Planting his feet the youngest stood tall but soon found the solid walls of his brothers in front of him an impenetrable force keeping Bishop and his punishment far from their little brother.

 Leo growled at Bishop holding the bloody knife that was just inside his brother’s side a few moments ago. “I said that is enough. You’re point was well taken.”

 It took their master a few agonizing moments to come up with a decision whether to punish them further or concede. He took a fresh cloth from his breast pocket and wiped the crimson from the knife and held it back out to its owner for retrieval. “Very well, but next time Michelangelo will get it much worse than Raphael did…..much worse. I tire of these games the resistance plays. I want this over with. I want that base found and those three commanders caught and executed. They have caused us too much trouble. They need to be made an example.” Bishop watched Leo’s eyes darken with defiance further but remained where he was. “Do we have a problem with those orders Leonardo?”

 Raphael and Michelangelo watched their brothers hands tense at his sides and his back straighten. “No.” Leo ground out darkly. “I will personally make sure those orders are carried out.”

 “Good, I will not tolerate failure again.” And with that Bishop left leaving the three brothers alone.

 After the hallway was clear Raphael finally stumbled into Leonardo’s arms. Mikey quickly came up to the other side of his brother helping Leo brace his immense weight. “Fuck Leo, I hope it was worth it.”

 Leo adjusted his brothers’ weight and pressed his palm into the weeping gash doing his best to slow the flow. “It was…enlightening, and don’t throw stones Raphael. You know full well if you were given the chance you would have took part in her body without hesitation. Now let’s get out of the hallway and to our quarters. We need to tend to your wounds.”

 Without any word of protest all three made their way to their shared room. When they had been brought to this facility after Bishop and his men had freed them from a secret lab doing tests on animals, they were each offered up their own rooms. Something deep inside them found the thought unpleasant and asked to be housed together. They had even moved their beds together finding comfort in each other’s warmth. Like they had been sleeping close years prior.

 Carefully they set Raphael down on a chair in their living quarters and Mikey began to address his wounds. Leo brought over their med kit and pulled out the tools Mike would need and left to fetch something to flush the gash with to clean and disinfect it.

 Returning to his brother’s Leo handed Mikey the supplies and assisted with keeping Raph’s steady for treatment.  

 Raphael finally broke the silence eyeing Leo suspiciously. “You really gonna kill her?”

  The war room was empty except for Casey who was sitting on the edge of large table in the middle of the room. His booted feet swung slightly as the dark haired man cleaned out from beneath his nails still unaware of her presence.

 “April would be fuckin pissed if she saw you doing that in here.”

 Casey yelped dropping the small knife from his fingers to grab his shuttering chest. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna give me a heart attack! I need to get a bell on you!”

 Aurora giggled hearing him whisper ‘fuckin ninja’s’ under his breath as he slipped from his perch to grab his lost blade. She moved into the room and took his spot crossing one leg over the other. “Then I wouldn’t be effective now would I?”Her fingers reached down to her knee high boots and straightened the seam to lean back to watch her friend. “She said you had something for me, and by the lack of backup I can assume it’s not for everyone’s ears.”  

 Flipping his knife closed Casey shoved it back into his pocket. He turned away from Aurora, took a few steps to the white board and stopped. She watched his shoulders lift with a few deep breaths and he turned around with a very sheepish grin plastered on his face.

 “I did somethin’ stupid..”

 “This isn’t something new Case, I love ya kid but you’re as unpredictable and careless as Raph. That’s why you two were best fuckin pals. Why don’t you tell me what you did and we’ll go from there?”

 Casey moved quick until he was just in front her and his palms were on her knees squeezing with enthusiasm. His eyes were now ablaze with excitement and he licked his lips. “I followed him….well to a certain extent.”

 There was only one person he could have followed, but the moron wouldn’t have been that stupid? Right? April would have skinned him alive. “Who did you follow?” her voice was a whisper hoping she was wrong but her intuition knew better.

 “Leo, I followed him for about a half an hour, hoping I could at least get a general direction of Bishop’s base.”

 “Casey!”

 His hands came up resting on her shoulders, “Wait, wait, …hear me out. He was still groggy when he woke up, stumbling, holding his head. So I figured I’d watch him as he went. I know him; known him for half my life so I know when he’s out of sorts and when he’s not. I followed him until he wasn’t walking funny and he quit holding his left shoulder. When I noticed he was more aware of his surroundings I backed off. At least I had a direction, we needed something Aurora, I took the opportunity. We need to find that base.”

 Aurora pushed him away and jumped from the table. She began to pace, “You idiot….I….I know what you did was for the cause and I appreciate it. But Casey he’s the best, you were so fucking lucky he didn’t know you were following him. He could have captured you, tortured you.”

 “Hey, I ain’t weak, I’d never give up the base…..ever.”

 “I know Case, but the end result would still be your death.” Aurora turned back to face Casey and he looked a little hurt. “I’m sorry, I know you were doing what was needed. I just……I just don’t know what I’d do if I lost you….April…..” she could feel the tears brim and settle into the corner of her eyes. “You two are the… last….my family.”

 “I know I know, April was pissed too but I had too. This was too good of an opportunity to let it pass by. It’s been nearly 10 years of this god damn war and we’re losing and I know you know this. Each day we lose more and more people to Bishop’s hold. So any edge, anything at all was worth the risk.”

 Wiping a stray tear free Aurora let out a long sigh and gathered Casey into an embrace.

 Then a new voice broke them from their moment, “He’s an idiot but…he did good.”

 Both Aurora and Casey looked up to see April standing in the door way.

 “He spent all night trying to narrow it down. He thinks he might know where they are. But we need to make sure before we go in. Casey is good but inconspicuous he is not. We need someone to go in and confirm the location. Someone quiet, someone who can slip in and slip out without being noticed. Avoid detection, which means recon only, you hear me?”  

 Aurora slapped her hands over Casey’s cheeks and pressed them together, “Where should this ninja go for said mission?” she pressed closer giving Casey fish lips which he worked playfully.

 “Rockefeller State Park Reserve.”

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

The evening air had cooled enough to ease the uncomfortable thickness in the air; if it wasn’t for the task at hand it might have been a good night to watch the stars. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky leaving the stars glittering like diamonds.

 Aurora had ditched her bike a mile before she had entered the reserve and continued on foot. Keeping mostly to the trees she moved soundlessly searching the acreage for any sign that Bishop’s base was close.

 They had never thought to search state parks, thinking the madman would find it too difficult to build his compound in the middle of nowhere. But he was a stubborn man and if anyone could make it work Bishop would find away if it kept him hidden from prying eyes of his enemies.

 It took hours to search, but what a peaceful evening it was. The frogs and bugs were creating a wonderful symphony that echoed throughout the forest floor. Even a few lightening bugs were out flashing across the long grass trying to find a mate.

 As she moved through the forest it began to get thicker, the foliage getting denser and then something caught her eye. The moonlight caught the refection of something and Aurora moved back into the shadows pulling out her binoculars.

 Zooming in she saw something that didn’t belong in a park reserve, a motion sensor.

 “Now we’re onto something….” Climbing higher she disappeared into the foliage concealing her presence further and moved forward her senses now on high alert. As she got closer more sensors popped up with the addition of cameras. Soon men with guns began to come into play and that’s when Aurora knew she was on the right track.

 “Good boy Casey, good boy.”

 Then she saw it, a large compound hidden in the park surrounded by a large fence littered with armed men swarming the grounds. “Oh goodie.” She mused watching a guard cross below her unawares of the danger looming above them. “Fresh meat.”

 With no sound made Aurora dropped down on her prey finding luck was on her side catching a female guard and rendered her neutralized. She stripped the woman of her clothes and ID badge and quickly hoisted the woman into the tree to conceal her work. Pulling on her clothes assuming her identity Aurora pulled the brimmed cap down and made her way to her next task.

 The shadows concealed her perfectly as she scaled the fence with ease. She waited for the flood lights to move past before she dropped down into the inner grounds of the base. A passing truck served as a shield bringing to a side door and with her stolen ID badge she was allowed entrance.

 Keeping her head down she disappeared into the crowd following them into what looked like a mess hall. There were many tables filled to the brim with brain washed New Yorkers. All oblivious to their predicament following orders of a man they once fought against. She needed to keep moving, she needed to make sure this was the place, she needed a visual, she needed to see Bishop, or one of them. They would be in the same facility as Bishop; he would want to keep them close.  

 Moving away from the loud space Aurora made her way down another hall searching for her target, keeping an eye out for those god damn sun glasses and that well tailored suit, pompous asshole. Soldiers, doctors, and what looked like civilian men and woman littered the halls. Waves and waves of people came, this was a busy place, very important no doubt.

She needed to be quick though, the longer she was there the more chances there was to be seen, exposed, and even captured.  Then green, large striking green and orange came from the distance. The youngest came striding down the hall, an unpleasant frown plastered over his face, jackpot, she had found it.

 As the crowd parted for the determined terrapin like the red sea Aurora’ saw his massive mitts covered in blood. Whose blood was that? He looked very upset and stressed. Her happy ray of sunshine looked so angry and she fucking hated it. Wanted to run up to him and kiss him, make him smile she even had to refrain from calling out to him. It hurt to hold it in, hold in his name. It turned bitter on her tongue and it swirled around the remaining saliva on her palette to wash the anger from her mouth.

 Then she watched his stride hesitate. He slowed and his nostrils flared as he neared her position. His dull blue eyes widened, brightened, his current mood momentarily forgotten he began to search the crowd frantically.

 Jesus fucking Christ those god damn mutant noses, he had smelt her! A flawless entry and she was compromised by their over achieving mutant senses.

 “God damnit.”

 She had to think quickly, she needed to disappear before he followed that god damn nose like a fucking blood hound.

 As luck would have it a man wearing an ungodly amount of cologne walked up next to her. She reacted quickly and shimmied up to him batting her violet eyes and smiled.

 “Helloo.” Her hand reached for his chest adjusting his name tag so she could read it. “Mattson…I’m new here and you look like a man who knows where things are.” Her hands ran over his chest to his shoulders keeping her proximity close to keep him interested.  “Would you be willing to show me where the mess hall is. I’m starving.” Her hands ran down his arms trying to get as much of the reeking scent of his over compensation all over her hands. Anything to mask her natural scent, to throw Mikey off her trail.

 The man looked Aurora over and his smiled widened enjoying the intimate contact. “Sure thing sweetie, I can show you whatever you want.” His arm snaked around her low back and he pulled her closer.

 As she pulled him away from Mikey’s last know location, down a different corridor both of them were grabbed.

 “I heard this one needed a tour, I’d be more than happy to show you around blondie. I can get you into far more places than he can.” Mikey was leaning down practically lapping at her ear. Fuck, fuck, fuck…..

 “Oh I’m sure he can show me around, it’s ok I don’t wanna bother you, you look important.”

 “Oh no, no bother at all and I insist. I’ll take it from here Mattson.”

 The man looked terrified as he pried himself away from the two and high tailed it down the hall leaving Aurora in Mikey’s clutches.

 “Not smart.” Mikey growled nuzzling into the back of her hair while pushing her towards a door.

 She didn’t struggle; Michelangelo wasn’t drawing attention to her to out her presence  so she didn’t either. His beak was pressed into her hair taking in deep breaths, his grip was secure but not too tight, she would easily be able to break free but something told her to follow his lead.

 Allowing him to usher then into what looked like an unused office, she turned when Mike pushed her into the room and quickly locked the door behind them.  

 There he stood, full height; the shortest of his three brothers but Mikey still had an impressive stature. Just as bulky as Raphael but not as tall. The dullness in his eyes was gone, vibrant baby blue hues swirled in his irises as he took her in, up and down. He gawked hungrily, mouth open in a wicked smile.

 “M-mike.” She whined suddenly finding it difficult to breath. That fucking look was devouring her whole. “Say something…do something.”

 He moved quicker then she had remembered him able and found herself pressed up against the wall with a brutal shove. The back of her head clacked with the dry wall pushing a huff from between her lips which was quickly silenced by his mouth. Mikey slanted his lips over hers plunging his board tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth still hung open from shock.

 The thought was to fight back, to push him away but that god damn mouth of his, that tongue swept away any and all resistance that remained in her head. God he was good and tasted even better, pure bliss.

 He must have felt her melt into him because the deep rumble that emanated from his chest vibrated into her chest as his reached down to grab hand fulls of her ass. Her hands moved around his thick shoulders grasping wildly at his bald dome, more, More, MORE!

 Mikey’s mouth separated from hers with a wet pop and descended down her throat nipping and sucking at the flesh growling and groaning like a wild beast.

 “Mikey….” Her words breathless as his hands cupped her backside squeezed at the plump flesh in his palms spreading her cheeks.

 “Again.” He mewled against her throat cooling the saliva spread across her flesh.

 She obliged willingly giving him his full name, “Michelangelo.”

 “Unngghh fuck yesssss…..” He lunged forward and his teeth sunk into her neck as he began to grind his titanium hard cock along her clothed core.

 “God Mike I miss you.”

 “Do you?” his breathing was labored as he tried to keep his cool but was failing miserably. He rocked his hips again mesmerized by the friction.

 “Every day, since he took you and your brothers from me.”

 One hand relinquished its hold from her ass and his finger drug along her hip lining the top of her pants before slipping below. He smiled against her throat finding no underwear beneath. It gave him better access as his thick digit parted the swollen folds sinking into the accommodating heat it sought.

 “Did you enjoy Leo last night?” he husked sinking his finger deep hooking it to gain a gasp from his prey.

 Aurora arched into his hand clawing at his shoulders as he hit the section of nerves at the top of her snapping cunt. “Mikey!”

 Mikey pressed the spot again leaning into her ear as his voice dropped an octave. “Did you?”

 “Yesss, I did. It had been so long, it hurt a little. I miss taking you too Mike, Raph too. I miss your tongue, your laugh, your cooking….arghhh…ahh…..fuck!” true to form Michelangelo was the best with his hands. The talented little shit always knew how to bring her to a shuttering climax the quickest compared to his brothers and just with his fingers. And today was no exception; she could feel it rushing through her blood, lighting up her central nervous system setting her ablaze with need.

 He worked that finger inside her swirling the pad of his finger over and over making sweet grunting moans in her ear. His sounds always got her going, bringing her closer to her peak quicker.

 “Can you cum for me?”

 Just then his thumb gathered the moister from her core and circled with the right amount pressure against the soft pearl at the hood of her sex and Aurora gave way. If it wasn’t for his hold on her Aurora would have collapsed as she toppled over into her climax. Her body clenched around his finger gaining a groan from the youngest.

  “That’s it, cum for me. Good girl.”  

  She began to shake as he helped prolong her climax repeating the stimulating motion rocking his finger in and out of her. Then he pulled her ear lobe into his mouth and sucked gently as he slowed his motions allowing her to finally come down.

  As the last of her climax subsided Michelangelo pulled his drenched fingers from her body and brought them to his mouth. Keeping eye contact the terrapin slipped them into his mouth and sucked them clean. His eyes closed as he savored the taste swirling his tongue to get the last trace of her essence. “Even better than I had imagined.” Slowly he moved forward brushing his lips against the shell of her ear and whispered. “I have a birthmark.” 

  A test, but she knew what he was talking about, so intuitive, smart. She tried to calm her breathing, Mikey was intense when he wanted. “Your left ass cheek, I always told you it looked like a slice of watermelon. I always enjoyed chewing on it when you laid on your stomach after a shower. That ass makes the perfect set of bongo drums. ”

  He stopped moving and pulled back, his eyes were wide with surprise and Mikey let out a long breath.  “I want to remember, I really do. But you need to get going though; he can’t know you’ve been here. Please hurry, he’s ordered Leo to kill you.”  @imthegreenfairy88 @tmntspidergirl​ @ravn-87​ @alonia143​ @blossom-skies​  

[braindeacl]

Frostbite | Eilidh & Miriam

TIMING: Weeks ago.  PARTIES: @meflemming & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh and Miriam find a great feast after a sudden blast of cold. WARNINGS: Lots of corpse eating.

White. It covered the streets. The buildings. The people. Everything was lost to the white. A blanket thrown down by the heavens, suffocating everything under its might. The streets and the buildings had no chance, locked in place by their very nature. They accepted their—stood brave against the frost and waited for the melt to break its hold. The people had hope, and for some this hope was justified. As the first white specks fell to the ground, many scurried away. To safety. But the specks soon turned to a pour soon turned to an onslaught. By then, the few who remained had nowhere to go. Stuck in place. Same as the streets and the buildings. But the melt would not free them, only their corpses. The first of these deaths sent an alluring perfume in the air. Calling to Eilidh. Tugging at that hunger that always gnawed no matter how much she fed, only the intensity could be changed. By the time she came upon the scene, the body’s core had turned a pale blue. But the paleness shifted to darkness along the extremities. Darker and darker and darker still. Until the fingers and the toes were a pitch black. Bubbling and breaking along the utmost tips. Lost to the ever encompassing white. 

But Eilidh had no mind for details. Death was all she saw, all she needed to see. Without a thought, her teeth disrupted the scene—broke off more pieces of that brittle body. It cracked and crunched and crumpled against her teeth. Tumbled down her throat like dirt. But filled her all the same. The face and an arm were lost to her insides by the time she returned from the thrall of death. With a new shine to her eyes, she surveyed the area. The truth of the situation becoming apparent. Others shambled through the snow—still clinging to a slipping sense of hope. Others were stilled except for the slow and rhythmic rises of their chests—soon to be like the mangled pile of flesh below her. A source of pain and agony for them. A source of a buffet for her. But confliction tore at her soul. For those who still fought against the creeping death. She rushed over to one. Wishing to grip them back to salvation. But fingers grasped that cold air as the person fell to the ground. Landing as a corpse. And that confliction gave way to the hunger again. 

It was so cold that frost was beginning to form on Miriam’s skin. Not what she expected for a midsummer night, but, really, she had grown up in White Crest; she knew just as well as any of the locals that the expected was to never be expected. So, when a freak blizzard came out of nowhere in the dead of night, she took it in stride. She ended up stuck in it, She managed to break free, one leather covered arm pushing its way out of the snow, and Miriam stood, brushed the snow off, and began walking. The effort reminded her of how long it had been since she’d gone out and fed, an increased workload as well as a desire to spend time with her favorite person keeping her from sustaining herself properly. But it didn’t matter. Miriam could practically taste so much misery on her tongue that she wouldn’t have been able to avoid it even if she tried. Heels crunching through the snow, she headed towards the source. She just wasn’t expecting the carnage that greeted her. “I suppose I’m interrupting dinner, aren’t I?” She asked the zombie feasting, an icy eyebrow raised as she moved her hands to her hair and shook crystalline flakes of snow out of it.

Silence was cut off abruptly by that casual tone. Calm like the blanket of snow surrounding—snuffing out any touch of chaos. Eilidh stopped, spit out a tooth. Not hers—the poor sap’s on the ground. She turned to meet the woman’s eyes. They were cold like the air, but untouched by it. Unlike all the others whose lives were sucked out like the previous heat. Clearly the other wasn’t human. And human suffering and slaughter was not a bother. She wasn’t like Eilidh—hunger did not compel the other’s teeth to bite and gnaw like it did to her. Curious. Her teeth bared for a moment, animal protecting its food. But the other made no motions, and teeth were replaced with tongue. It licked at her lips, removing some of the dark crusts of blood and flesh bits. But it hardly made a difference—her face and neck and arms were caked in the stuff. Not that she particularly cared. The other seemed to place more interest in her looks. Genuine leather ensemble paired with impractical heels. Her face the most evident of this interest, and Eilidh took interest in turn looking. She let out an airy chuckle. “Not really. What brings you here? Hungry, too?” 

The woman was a mess. Miriam had never seen such a messy eater, though, it wasn’t like she was around too many zombies who feasted upon anything more than animal brains cooked or blended into smoothies. And she had to assume that this was a zombie. The lack of heartbeat was, of course, quintessential for one of the undead, but the consumption of flesh, along with the blunt teeth, leaned more towards the walking dead end of the spectrum. “I suppose I was a bit peckish,” Miriam mused. “I was led here because of all the suffering.” It might not make sense, but that was what Miriam craved more than any sort of blood. She felt full, though, empowered in ways that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Mass misery, mass suffering. It sustained her. She looked at her new companion. “My, you’re a messy eater.”

“Ah. Sadist.” Not uncommon in this town, Eilidh had come to realize. Won’t find her complaining—it kept the food ripe. Head tilted at the thought, as she eyed the woman deeper. A waste of a beautiful face, though she’s wasted prettier. But she reminded herself the woman had done nothing. At least, not in front of her. Quick headshake threw that fuzz from her mind. Returning her back to herself. To the easy food surrounding. Motionless, as it seemed the last survivors were gone to the frost or soon approaching. There was a sadness. A wish for a different outcome. But fate decided their time was now. And so graciously decided the two of them would enjoy the spoils. There was nothing to do now but feed and not let their sacrifice go to waste. She broke off a finger; it came off like peanut brittle with a snap. It went into her mouth. That mouth came alive with snaps as her teeth chomped down and down and down. It crumbled on her lips, covered her in more mess. She shrugged at the observation, uncaring. “Food should be enjoyed. Plenty to go ‘round.”

“No, not a sadist,” Miriam said, and she didn’t know why she was so offended by that word. She wasn’t a sadist. The only times she’d ever really, properly enjoyed what she’d done had been killing Theo. But that wasn’t true, was it? She’d cried while she’d killed him, while the overwhelming misery and suffering that he’d felt had sustained her, while she’d turned his skin into a jacket. Miriam allowed her eyes to flash red at the woman in front of her and let her fangs drop. “Just a woman with an incredibly unfortunate set of dietary needs. Tragically, tragedy becomes me.” She looked at the way the woman ate a finger, her face momentarily twisting into something that wasn’t quite but could be very close to disgust. She’d made a mess during her own first large blood meals, but this really was ridiculous. “No, thank you. I think I’ll just take in the misery for now. I don’t enjoy blood slushies.”

Eilidh’s attention snapped back to the woman at her shift in tone. Understanding followed when eyes turned crimson, and teeth turned sharp. There was a shift in her head, a small nod in acknowledgment. “Ah, Dearg-Due.” Arguably tragic, for their name was born from it, as too were they. But Eilidh did not entirely think so—head tilting inquisitively at the revealing display. The woman didn’t share in her curiosity, face squinting in distaste to Eilidh’s own revealing nature. No offense was taken. Instead, Eilidh chomped harder. More gore bits tumbled down, as mischief shined in her eyes. Waiting for the squint to harden on the other’s face. “Don’t think there’s much left. Just the quiet.” As if to purposefully refute her, motion was detected a few meters away. Car door beat and beat and beat against the pile of snow, until it managed to be pushed away. Short, shivered gasps filled the air. Eilidh immediately sat up straighter at the occurrence, gaze locked where she believed the unseen survivor to be. Someone had managed to make it out!

A dearg-due. Miriam looked at this strange woman, not really understanding what she meant and hating that fact. “Right. A dearg-due.” A word that she’d have to look up on her own time, but, perhaps, something of import. Maybe a step closer to not feeling like she was stumbling through this wretched unlife without any sort of instruction manual. She narrowed her eyes at the other woman before rolling them and snorting, a most unladylike sound that she truthfully didn’t care about in present company. “There’s always a little left until it’s absolutely still,” she said, her ears picking up on the sound of a struggling heartbeat before the zombie’s head had even turned. With eyes the color of the blood spilled in the snow, Miriam looked at the man that was struggling, suffering, trying so, so hard to live. His cries were the most dreadful music, a delightful meal. She wanted it to stop. She was lithe on her feet and she made her way towards him, and her hand wrapped around his neck faster than he could blink. “Shh, it’ll be over soon,” she soothed, and she moved her hand, took a bite. It had been some time since she’d had blood straight from the source, and it was still warm, despite the chill in the air. By the time Miriam was done, there wasn’t much left of the man’s neck. She wiped at her face, her chin. She looked back at the zombie. “I suppose I’m a bit of a mess as well.” 

Eilidh’s feet had barely become reacquainted with the ground when the Dearg-Due made her way. Hand gripped tight, threatening to suck out his life. But teeth worked faster. By the time Eilidh was close enough to make out his features, last drops of that life trickled away. Left a red stain on the snow. Left a space for the sadness to return. But it too trickled away, lost to the fog she carried so well. Reverting to a stillness. A deep silence. Where not even a heartbeat could be found, for the two standing had none to spare. Until a chuckle broke it—brought some semblance of life back to the white expanse of the dead. “Ah. You do like blood slushies.” The other’s mouth dripped in the last of that man’s warmth—red blotches against the once spotless mold. But found herself enjoying the sight, more than before. Always an admirer of those with the touch of the wild. “Looks better. One more meal. Might even be stunning.” Like her, with fragments of bodies littering her face and chest, as it did the ground. Stained by that dark, crimson death. 

Wiping at the corners of her mouth as they ticked upwards ever so slightly, Miriam licked the blood off her thumb as she said, “Not quite a blood slushie. He was still lukewarm, at the least.” Amusement and disgust warred within her, both at the bloodbath as well as the woman in front of her. She was no different, now, really, blood on her face, a body in front of her. And she was still thirsty, so thirsty, the kind of thirst that, for once, couldn’t be tamed by misery. It was likely that the bags of blood in her home wouldn’t help much, either. She managed a laugh, though. “I think we have different thoughts on the word stunning, sweetness.” She was still thirsty. She said, “I’m not one to overindulge.” 

Tongue clicked in a baby’s attempt of disappointment. One that held no power, with a touch of humor. But the feeling did linger on the surface. Eilidh simply shrugged at the dismissal. “Only the greedy do.” There was a curious quirk of her brow, noting a strange expression on the other’s face. Causation could not be placed, but assumption was the feast had put the woman in a wild state of mind. Eilidh could certainly relate. Such a state told her to keep feeding, despite the all-consuming hunger being placated. To eat until satisfied instead of simply sated. Eyes focused intently on the recently deceased, whose flesh was still soft and tender and untouched by the stiffness of death and cold. Mouth salivated in turn. Hungry teeth had only ripped out a few mouthfuls when a new distraction arose. A sudden sound in the distance. Unknown but clearly approaching. Another predator? An oblivious local? A hunter? She hissed at the third suggestion, not wanting to deal with that ilk. Body lowered, fingers tensed, preparing for that encroaching mystery.

“Well, then, here’s to not being greedy, hm?” But Miriam was still feeling that tell-tale tinge of bloodlust under the surface, ever present but growing now. It had been so long since she’d fed properly. So long. And she wasn’t starving by any means, and she wasn’t going to complain about it, but, damn, when Miriam used to feed like this, she was ravenous. In the 90s, she’d slaughtered multiple people at a time as a result of her thirst for blood and pain. It would last for hours, only satisfied when she was surrounded by bodies. Much as she was now, but these weren’t bodies of her making. One just wasn’t enough. She heard the sound of a car door slam, saw blue sirens just ahead of them, smelled someone as they approached. Miriam didn’t think. The officer was dead before she properly arrived on the scene, and Miriam ripped her throat before she could make so much as a gurgle. This was warm blood, delicious as it soothed the ache inside her that she hadn’t even noticed. How was Miriam supposed to notice when she neglected this side of herself so thoroughly? She didn’t know. She looked up at her new companion and straightened once more, washing the blood from her face and hands with the snow. The entire altercation had been quick, so quick. Miriam wasn’t one for apologies. She rarely apologized. That was how she was raised. However, she did manage to say, “I’m not normally this…” her lips twitched, “emphatic.”

The situation seemed remedied, as the vampire charged at that approaching commotion. Reduced to gurgles and silence, a seeping redness behind abandoned vehicles. Eilidh feasted as well, hardly one to neglect the hunger. Stripping more of that first kill’s recognizability. Turned from man to meat in tattered clothes. Enough to doubt it was ever a man at all. Calming the pestering part of her mind lost to the fog. She sucked on her own fingers, removing viscera clinging between wrinkles and under nails. Nothing gone to waste. She turned in time to meet her carnage companion. Both stained and dripping in fresh blood. The other trying to hide this fact, transferring blame onto the snow. Eilidh made no such motion, almost wearing it with pride. “Should try it some more. Looks like you enjoy it.” Her attention shifted to what lay behind, the cause of interruption. Lone police car illuminated in that swirl of blue and red, still waiting for its passenger. “Well, they never send just one. ‘Bout to be crawling with ‘em now.” Head tilted at a consideration—to lie in wait for the food to come. But enough death had touched these lands in one night. And, of course, she wasn’t greedy. She gripped onto the remains of that mangled corpse—lugged it onto her shoulder. Before taking her leave, she addressed the woman cut of similar clothe. “What should I call you, lady of blood?” 

Having never really eaten with a zombie before, Miriam couldn’t quite contain the look of horrified fascination. Really, she’d never seen anyone eat with such gusto, not even at dinner parties her parents hosted years and years ago. Maybe Miriam just wasn’t used to watching other undead eat. Not entire bodies, at least, and not like that. It was fascinating, certainly, but it was also unnerving. Not scary, just strange. Unusual. Unnatural. But, then again, they were dead. There hadn’t been anything natural about them since their hearts stopped beating. “Darling, if I indulged like this all the time, we wouldn’t have a town left. I prefer to keep my meals light.” Two people in a matter of minutes was quite the loss of life, even if Miriam was certain the one would have died from the cold. The other was just a casualty of every awful thing that had been growing inside of Miriam unchecked for some time now, she’d need to be more careful. She wiped her hands off on her pants, now free of blood and viscera. “My friends call me Mim, though Miri is fine as well. I own the leather shop in town,” Miriam said, a smile on her lips. “What should I call you, oh mighty finder of finger foods?”

Eilidh’s breath rushed out her nose in a near snort. “Only if you’re picky. Find deer to be just as satisfying. Gives a better chase.” And lacked that sense of… She did not want to place a name. To those emotions that tried to surface at times of feeding. A tainting born from James’ pleasantries. It had been easier in the times before. And when she found herself with those like Mim, twins of that primal nature, some of that ease could be found. Of course, judgement had been placed on her, from that kindred companion. But now, with no sense to hide the parts society deemed too dark and twisted, she only saw a fascination from the other woman. She smiled, revealing a bit of discolored skin lodged between incisors. It grew a smidgen wider, at that fun nickname. Made her consider ripping off a dead finger and chomping down in reinforcement. “Dia dhuit, Mim.” She let out a gentle chuckle. “Guess this means we’re friends. Mine call me many things. Call me Ellie.” Sirens tore her attentions. She saw more swirls of blue and red bouncing off distant walls, but creeping ever closer. As did those shrieking sounds—building on each other into a single blasting. Arm securing her haul grew tighter. Squeezing out those last drops of blood it had managed to hold drizzling down her shoulder. “Better scamper. ‘Till the next.” And she disappeared into the trees. 

[fijiangecko]

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 4 - Blast from the Past

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Read it on AO3 here

A/N: A little late again. I’ll be better <3

~~~~~~

Laughter echoes across the metallic surfaces of the facility, almost as if Tendou was laughing at you from all angles. Impossibly so, your knuckles clench harder on Kuroo’s shirt and your forehead burns into the skin on his chest. His hands place themselves on your arms, unsure of what to do in this situation.

“No need to hide! We just wanna talk!” Iwaizumi’s jaw flexes when Tendou speaks, safely clicking off on the pistol in hand. Your mind races a thousand thoughts a second as you try and formulate a plan to get everyone out. Oikawa glances over his shoulder for a brief second and sees your position in Kuroo’s arms. He lets a hand release from his own gun and swats your side. The movement causes you to startle, but both Tooru and Kuroo keep you as silent as possible when you shift out of Kuroo’s arms. The former questions you with his eyes, which are now laced with concern as he hasn’t ever really seen you like this before.

Footsteps inch closer and closer, everyone’s heart pounding together to create a cacophony of drums. Oikawa continues to stare into your eyes, practically pleading you to do something as he readjusts his position to hold the gun with both hands once more. Iwaizumi takes a step back and squishes everyone closer together against the cold concrete walls.

You bite your lip to the point where you can taste iron. Releasing Kuroo’s shirt, you fully press yourself against the wall. The two with eyes on you furrow their brows in confusion until they see the faintest blue light build around your form. In a matter of seconds it snaps and splinters off of your figure and the wall is replaced with the parking lot. In the distance, the moonlight shines off of the glossy paint on your car.

“We’re gonna find you one way or another!” The voice sounds much to close and you step out into the parking lot and pull the boys with you, each falling on their asses when you quickly shut the portal and let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your hands place themselves on top of your knees, heaving over and taking deep breaths to soothe yourself as each of the guys stand up. Once the beating of your heart slows to a reasonable pace, you turn on your heel and head to the car. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are right on your tail and hop in without question.

Kuroo lags behind the group, confused on the quick turn of events. He has never known you to back out of something so quickly, and he most definitely has never seen that look on your face - a look of concern. It irks him that all of the sudden, right when you all get a lead, or potentially have the killers right in front of you, you turn and run. His legs carry him behind your figure, but his fists clench when you quickly turn the keys in the door and hop in without a second thought.

He stands outside of the car and stares at his reflection through the glass. You turn the ignition and press on the brake, bracing yourself to make a quick getaway, but as you turn to check your surroundings you see Kuroo.

“Kuroo.” Whatever train of thought he was on was derailed. “Get in the car.” Your tone is both harsh but caring as you try and convey the urgency of the situation.

“Why?” He continues to look at himself, but acknowledges your own look of confusion in his peripheral.

“What do you mean ‘why’? We need to get out of here-”

“Why aren’t we stopping them?” His golden irises hold your own in an intensive stare, a competition of wills. The rhythmic drumming of your heart skips a beat at his conviction, but you know better than to force him into this world.

"We can't." Short and simple, you still don't want to lie to him.

The engine fills the silence as it whirs and grumbles under the cool night air. A soft breeze dances through Kuroo’s hair as he continues to hold his gaze against yours. Both of you are set in your choices, stubborn and defiant against the other.

“Kuroo.” Iwaizumi stands next to the passenger door. “Please. Just get in the car and we can explain later.”

“No.” His eyes flicker between yourself and Iwa, but he sheds his jacket and throws it into the car, pulling out the handgun that was tucked into the waist of his pants and turns to face the building. “These guys could be our killers, and they might be planning to kill tonight. If someone dies, then that’s on us.” With one final glance, he turns his head towards you. Your muscles are all tense, knuckles white from clenching the steering wheel so hard and he can see that you're grinding your teeth - a bad habit that he thought you had gotten rid of a while ago. “I can’t- won’t be responsible for someone’s death.”

With that, he heads into the dark night, his silhouette only visible from the dim street lights as he moves swiftly towards the building. Each step he takes causes your body to panic further. He could die. Tendou will take him and torture him for information. 

These thoughts race at a thousand miles per second in your head, all the while Oikawa and Iwaizumi see that you’re starting to lose it. They remember when you would get like this, but neither of them were well equipped to help you out of these situations. Oikawa, from the back seat, ever so gently places a hand on your shoulder when he sees that you’ve been blinking your eyes rapidly for a few seconds. You don’t register the feeling, and continue to think about every outcome in which you lose Kuroo. In most cases, it’s for good.

Tooru looks at Hajime, who is still outside of the vehicle, as he chews the inside of his cheek and gives you a squeeze on the shoulder. Hajime pops his knuckles and takes a deep breath. This isn’t just bad in regards to Kuroo going rogue, but the fact that all three of you could get found out. To him, that just means more hiding and relocating or facing the music.

“Y/N.” His voice erupts over the beating in your eardrums, and reflexively you look to Hajime. His eyes try and say what he doesn’t wish to, but he grabs his gun once more through the window of the car and purses his lips.

You’ve worked with these two for so long, that it’s not a challenge to understand what he’s saying. With shaky hands, you turn the keys out of the ignition and scratch at your forehead. Tooru is already out of the car when you shove open the door and stand up. Just as Kuroo had done a few moments prior, you shed your jacket and pull out a similar handgun to what everyone else is sporting.

“So are we going to…?” The taller of the three speaks, his chocolate hair brushing his face in the silent wind.

He’s referring to Tendou and whoever the colleague is, but your priorities lie elsewhere. “No. Main goal is to get Kuroo and get the fuck out. It would be best if they don’t see us at all.” The two nod and cock their guns. You take one last deep breath and start the pursuit.

The three of you jog to the entrance, the door open and footsteps still echoing across the various pieces of metal. You turn to Oikawa as you place your back on the wall, waiting for confirmation that it’s safe enough to go in. He stands next to you with Iwa behind him and takes a second to listen, already having put his gift in use. Nodding once, you quickly head in and look for the nearest spot of cover.

The boys follow behind and place themselves on either side of you, waiting for the next move. This is how it's always been, with you taking the lead and them just knowing how and when to move around you. They’ve spent years learning your tactics and body language in order to work in such a smooth fashion was intense, but pays off in moments like these.

With all of your backs against the cold concrete walls, you whisper to Oikawa. “Can you hear Kuroo?”

He nods and points further into the room, also giving a hand signal that the coast is clear just up ahead. Iwaizumi takes the lead this time, making sure that the bright aqua flash is quick to snap around his form before he takes off. He remains light on his feet as he moves, but consciously makes an effort to shield both of you from any possible dangers.

As the three of you run to the next covered area, you spot a tuft of black hair behind a large machine towards the end of the room. You know that the others saw the same thing. You proceed as before, with Oikawa giving signals and Iwaizumi leading as you try your best to remain calm and focus on the task at hand.

The only thing that distracts you is the vibrant red hair peering over some pipes on the opposite end of the room. Your legs stutter in their movements, and cause Tooru to slam into you. The grunt that escapes both of your lips is booming over what was previously silent, and your reflexes tell you to scatter before Tendou can locate you.

Hajime roughly pulls Oikawa along with him as they head back towards the door, but you scurry off closer to Kuroo and find a small compartment to lodge yourself in. 

“Little detectives!” With a lilt in his voice, Tendou sprints over to the previous point of contact and scans the area with keen eyes. Based on the sound, you guess that his partner did not follow him and is still checking the rest of the rooms out. “There’s only so many places you can hide!”

You hold your breath, knowing that you’re much closer to him than the boys. If he finds me, it’s game over. A hand makes its way over your mouth as you try to regulate your frantic heart, as it wants to leap out of your chest and run away.

Only a little ways down from you, Kuroo had heard the grunts but had recognized them as your own. A sigh of relief leaves his lips, thankful that you decided to come help him. The relief lasts only for a moment before the perp runs over to your potential location and starts taunting you all. Strategically, Kuroo starts to think of where everyone could be located. His one goal at this moment is to pair with you and take out the two suspects before things get messy.

You, on the other hand, wait for the sound of foot falls. Seconds feel like minutes, but the sound never comes. Tendou stands tall in his place and continues to scan, almost computer-like in his movements, over the area. He knows someone is there, and he fully intends on finding out who it is.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi had taken this time to move around Tendou to try and get to either Kuroo or the stranger, whichever reveals themselves first. Both of them try not to worry about you since they know you’re capable of handling the situation. They had lost some progress, having run back towards the door, but make it up in a short amount of time.

You sit and wait like livestock as the clock ticks. Can’t use portals - he would see the light. You search for a way out, but to no avail. The only hope you have is that he moves on or looks away for long enough and gives you time to break away.

Kuroo grows impatient with the lack of sound and makes his move. Slowly, he moves in a crouched position towards what he thinks is your location. His ankles pop softly under the weight of his body, but he continues to move.

Unbeknownst to him, the associate was just close enough to hear something. Quickly, the man turns and spots the same black tuft of hair you had seen just moments prior. “Tendou!”

Shit shit shit.

There’s no time. Tendou turns on a dime as the first shot rings out, the sound ricocheting off of all surfaces and causing everyone’s ears to ring - especially Oikawa who lets out a rather loud groan.

“There you are.” Eyes hungry, Tendou notes what he sees and hears from various places. In a split second decision, you decide it’s now or never and place a portal underneath yourself to the closest place you had last seen your dark haired friend.

The bright blue flash does not go unnoticed by the now eagled-eyed Tendou, who runs over to the flash, but lets out a growl when he finds no signs of anyone.

Kuroo drops down to the ground right after the initial gun fire and remains with his chest to the ground. Looking around, he can see that the bullet has lodged itself into the wall behind him, but the angle lets him know that the shooter was in a standing position from across the room.

Oikawa covers his ears and crouches in a defensive stance to try and stop the awful high-pitched ringing in his ears. Iwaizumi takes action and stands in front of him, looking for any immediate threats.

You fall right on your ass towards the back of the room, shielded by machinery and the pipes connecting them. From your position, you can’t see anyone. Quickly, you get a good grip on your gun and stand up.

Without thinking, you slam your back onto the controls for the machine and it groans as the metal pieces start to shift. Heat and steam start to emit from the machine, an orange building up at the opening which faces the doors of the building. Clicks of different cogs and wheels make the pieces of metal come to life as it only continues to get hotter in the area.

Immediately you duck into a different spot, more concerned with not being found out than the hot embers which start to fly out of the gaping maw. No one else is affected by this machinery, but the heat fills the room and causes all of the other machines and pipes to get warm, even hot to the touch.

“I don’t see you getting out of this one anytime soon. Just come out and we won’t shoot.” The stranger speaks clearly over the crackles and pops, giving away his position to everyone. You move with more haste, as you aren’t bothered with being heard, to directly across from the man. 

That would be the most logical spot for Tetsuro to be in since this guy shot first. The pipes shield your body as you move through the maze of metal.

Oikawa shuts off his gift and takes a second to recollect his thoughts, only to be distracted by the fires burning. Hajime grabs his collar only a few seconds later after the man announces his position and the two get closer to him.

“What makes you think we would do that?” Kuroo is still on the ground and shouts, lungs burning with an iron resolve.

Idiot! Fucking moron! You move faster, thoughts more focused on the fact he gave up his location just to fucking talk back. He can’t be thinking straight.

Tendou had, for the most part, stayed in his little corner since you had teleported off. He pulls a knife from his coat pocket and holds it against his palm. The new warmth doesn’t startle him, but a smirk has slowly crept over his face since they first walked into the building. He has no idea this night could be so exciting. At the sound of a new voice, he stalks closer with sure footing.

Chest still pressed against the now warm ground, Kuroo pushes up and keeps low. All he wants in this moment is to agitate these assholes enough to get them to fuck up somehow. Then we can arrest these shitheads and call it a job well done. His chest heaves with short breaths, but he doesn’t care to acknowledge it at the moment.

Another shot fires out, this one directly on the pipe Kuroo is hiding behind. It would’ve been a direct hit had the structure not been there. All agency members hearts skip a beat, and the three in motion only push themselves harder to get the fuck out of here.

“Because we’ll kill you if we have too.” Whoever this is sounds bored, like he wasn’t about to rob someone of their life. You clutch the handle of your weapon as you grit your teeth.

Iwaizumi takes this time to get closer to the suspect, Oikawa staying behind him for backup and trying to keep an eye on Tendou. As they approach, they can see a head of grey hair paired with fairly thick shoulders. The man is facing the room with his back to the pair as he speaks to Kuroo.

Just as Iwaizumi lines up a shot, Tendou creeps through the concrete jungle and peers around a corner. He spots the edge of someone’s shoe, and the grin only grows to an uncomfortable size on his face. The knife slides across his palm and he steps out into the corridor.

You are only a few meters away, seeing Kuroo’s body hunched over just out of your grasp fills your chest with hope. We can get out of here. There’s no telling whether your body moves on its own, or by your own volition you start a dead sprint to him.

But Tendou rounds the corner, a wicked toothy grin adorning his features and your heart drops as you look directly into his eyes.

Blood drips down onto the floor, its soft patters vastly overpowered by the growling of machinery. Tendou’s movements stutter, the grin dropping fast as he processes what’s in front of him. You power through the shock wracking your body and grab Kuroo’s arm.

You knew this was a possibility when you heard his voice just a few short minutes ago. You knew that everything you’ve been working for these past four and a half years would be washed down the drain if he saw you.

All that matters is that everyone gets out alive.

His body falls into step with yours as you drag him towards the heat source. He doesn’t notice the split second encounter that just happened, but lets you take him somewhere safe.

The grey haired fellow saw everything go down, and hesitated on shooting, but Iwa takes his chance and shoots his left calf muscle. He keels over immediately upon impact and lets out a howl of pain. Iwaizumi runs in the direction he saw you and Kuroo bolt off to, and Oikawa right on his heels.

“Y/N…” Your name cascades off of Tendou’s lips, a quiet whisper hidden under a cacophony of industrial instruments. The stream of blood coming from his palm slowing until the deep red contrasts against the sapphire hue burning bright around the cut. Droplets rise from his hand and the ground, the liquid now taking the shape of little needles. Hundreds of these tiny daggers surround his hand as he walks forward.

Seconds pass, but it feels like centuries before you stumble over some tools and meet up with the two boys. Oikawa looks tired, a bit of blood coming from his ear when he pants and Iwaizumi looks shaken after shooting someone for the first time in quite a while. Kuroo takes deep breaths next to Oikawa. 

“Y/N!” Your name is no longer a silent harmony. The situation finally catches up to you and you freeze in your place. Statue like, you bare a thousand yard stare as the men all look at you, two in horror and one in confusion.

No no no no no. 

His voice doesn’t sound that far off, and you know this is a do or die kind of scenario. You glance around at the floor and place a portal under all of the boys’ feet, sending them directly into the car and hoping that they don’t break any bones on the short fall down.

“Y/N no-” Oikawa tries to plead, but the portal is shut before he can convince you of anything.

Tendou rounds one last corner before standing tall and facing you, as you hold your weapon in both hands. The little pricks of blood soften and drop to the floor when he realizes it’s just you.

“So it is you…” his foot moves cautiously forward, as if asking permission to come closer.

You remain in position, but don’t give him any warnings to stop. Memories come back to you in the blink of an eye; almost five years of your life surrounded with people like Tendou and giving up your time to an organization that didn’t give a shit about you.

His mind is clouded with these memories as well. He can see you and him laughing about old jokes, going on stakeouts, messing with Ushijima. The list goes on and on. For years he thought you were dead, and now you’re here. 

Alive. 

And right within his grasp.

Two sides of the same coin come to face to face with one another. One with a longing in his heart, and the other with a heaviness in her heart that can only be compared to hatred.

“You killed those people, didn’t you?” It’s hard to make out your words. He keeps eye contact, afraid that if he blinks you’ll be gone.

“You know the drill, Y/N. They messed up. None of them knew how to keep their mouths shut and Washijo needed them gone.” His tone is as if you understood, or that you continued to care about anything the Port Mafia was doing.

“Obviously they didn’t mess up that horribly since the police couldn’t figure out why all these bodies started to appear across the city.” Venom coats your words thick, but the redhead refuses to understand why you would talk to him in such a way.

“Doesn’t matter. Washijo told all of the executives to move out. You remember how he is, don’t you?” He inches closer and you take a step back.

“Yeah. He was deranged and obsessed with taking over Yokohama.”

“No, you got it wrong. He wants what’s best for Yokohama and he just has to take care of a few things before it’s ours.”

“Ours?! You seriously bought in to his stupid fucking show and dance?!”

“Always so vulgar Y/N.” He shakes his head. “We could’ve had Yokohama years ago if you had just stayed.”

“And why would I have done that?” You pause and wait for his retort, but nothing comes. “The mafia gave me nothing after years of service. I dedicated my life to it, and I got fucking nothing. At least when I’m a detective I can help the people.”

His expressions turns sour as you speak, a nasty snarl displaying instead. “They gave you a home, food, water, a family! Those things really don’t mean anything to you?”

“Not when it costs innocent lives.” You clench your jaw and look at him with disgust. In his own head, he refuses to believe that this is you; that this is his Y/N.

His partner had crawled his way to you both in the meantime, careful not to bump his leg. When you finally take a look at him, it registers that it is Osamu Miya. The last time you had seen him, he was just a foot soldier. You can see that he’s hardened over the years, now trying to secure a spot amongst the top ranks if he hasn’t already.

A phone is placed over his ears, you’re sure it’s for backup and you don’t hesitate to create a portal under you. Tendou jolts forward and tries to snatch any part of you he can, but you fall into the driver's seat of the car with a grunt.

Oikawa and Kuroo are in the back, looking at you with wide eyes as Iwaizumi asks if you are okay.

“They called backup,” you say. He whispers something out of frustration, but you don’t bother to pay attention as you shove the keys into the car harshly and throw it into drive. Kuroo’s body tosses around like a ragdoll in the back, having not braced himself for the sudden motion. Oikawa grips the overhead handle and Iwaizumi the dash.

Tires screech as you make a sharp turn out of the parking lot. Another shot rings out, but misses. You check the rearview and see a blur of red hair standing at the door of the facility.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Kuroo demands after adjusting himself to sit properly.

No one answers his call, instead choosing to focus on the surrounding area for potential threats. You focus on driving through the dark streets and finding a quick and inconspicuous way back to the agency. Hajime keeps an eye on the right side of the vehicle, while Tooru covers the left.

Kuroo’s jaw falls open, he’s never felt more ignored in his entire life. “Hello!?”

A vehicle swings itself around a corner behind you all, the immediate sound of gunshots doing nothing to conceal its presence. Oikawa sticks his weapon out of the window and starts to fire back with pot shots, Kuroo ducks down and covers his head.

Glass shatters across the backseat, the back windshield now scattered after being hit with several bullets. You and Hajime try your best to use the head rests as decent enough cover in the meantime.

“Get the tires idiot!” You shout over the thousands of different noises. Through your side mirror, you can see the car behind you is a black SUV - standard for the Port Mafia. The decent thing about those is that they are raised higher from the ground than most other cars, and therefore makes it easier to lodge a bullet either into the vehicle or its tires.

Kuroo stays hunched over, curled into a ball from the initial shots. What the fuck is going on?! His heart beats in his throat, but he’s frozen. His muscles don’t move. He can’t help.

Does he want to help? Who’s in the right?

Who are you?

Another SUV appears in front of you, slowing to bump its bumper with your own. Hajime props himself fully on the car door with the window rolled all the way down. With his gift, Man of Steel, he can virtually protect himself from almost anything - from gunshots to C4, his skin won’t have as much as a scratch on it as long as his gift is being consciously used.

His arms prop themselves on the roof of the car, using it as a sort of tripod to steady his aim against the intense wind. He takes a deep breath in, and once he holds for a second or two, he fires. The bullet doesn’t even scratch the car, and he silently cusses when he exhales and prepares for the next one.

You maneuver the car between your pursuers, but as each second passes you start to psych yourself out. If these two can’t hit their marks then we’re fucked. Big time.

“Hajime!” He slinks back into the seat as he looks to you. “Switch me.”

Fully understanding, he leaves the gun on the dash and leans forward. Kuroo watches the exchange go down, finally prying his eyes open. With trained ease, you push on the gas pedal hard before releasing quickly and sliding over to the passengers seat with your legs pulled up to your chest. Hajime steps over, foot hitting the gas first to ensure there’s still movement before he slams into the seat.

You grab the handgun and get into the same position he was in just a couple seconds ago. The wind beats against your face, nose and cheeks becoming red instantly from the cold. With a trained gaze, you line up the shot and follow a similar procedure, taking a deep breath in, holding and closing one eye before taking the shot.

The bullet flies through the air, a millisecond passes before the car in front swerves drastically and crashes just off to the right of you in the forest. In a flash, the scene is longer on your mind as you turn your attention to the last remaining problem.

Tooru continues to pop off shots from inside the vehicle, more concerned with his body than his counterpart. Hajime speeds up the car, shifting into the next gear since there’s nothing blocking your way. The hunk of metal jerks unceremoniously and everyone's heads bob and sway.

Your hands clutch the handle right above the window door, but you decide in a split second that you need to take a risk in order to get away from these freaks as soon as possible. One hand remains white knuckled on the handle, but one of your knees adjusts itself onto the area where the window goes down. This position allows you to see higher above the car, and clearly see the SUV tailing you.

“Y/N!” Hajime sees you moving around in his peripheral, but once he turns to look at you his body is wracked with panic. A hand grips the ankle of the other leg. As if it’s going to do anything if you fall.

This time around, you don’t have anything to steady yourself on and you only have one hand on the gun. With it in the air, you close one eye and take a steady breath in. You shoot before you can hold it in, and the bullet grazes the side mirror.

The men inside, who were focused on Oikawa, now see you practically hanging out of the car. Their focus shifts entirely to you, but you’re able to get a second, and last, shot off.

Once more, the car spins out of control and lands itself amidst the trees. Smoke erupts from the smashed engine, but they are out of sight in a matter of seconds.

You slide back into the car, Iwaizumi releases your ankle and lets a sigh of relief pass his lips. Tooru wipes glass shards off of his seat and leans back, letting the wind cool down the intense heat.

Kuroo remains silent. His gut tells him that even if he was to ask any questions, none of you would answer. He plays the scene from the manufacturing building in his head a thousand times. Why did the Port Mafia know your name?

You don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s processing. “Kuroo.” He looks up, but isn’t met with your face but rather the back of your head. You don’t have it in you to look at him, knowing that he has a decent idea of what’s going on. “We can talk once we get back to the agency, but for now we gotta make sure it’s safe.”

“Yeah.” It comes out as a breath. Oikawa watches the interaction and can see the betrayal in his eyes.

“You can ask any questions you want,” you say. Hajime side-eyes you at the proclamation. “You deserve to know.”

[unclegarou]

In honor of reaching over 100 followers, I present to you.... *drum roll*  

Let Me Make It Up To You | Garou NSFW Scenario (Fem! XReader)

a few lines from my “What Garou Says During Relationship” are used below in bold 

pleaseeeeee send feedback. if there is any grammatical errors or parts you did / did not like, let me know!

These past few days had been uneventful and tiresome, the same thing on your agenda every single day. Work, work, and work. Some times you craved for a thrill, the kind that prevented you from continuing that repetitive schedule, even for just a few hours.

It was nearing midnight when you finally broke away from the hot steam, a rush of cool air hitting your skin as you drew the shower curtains back. You’d been idly standing under the water for at least a hour, simply collecting your thoughts and rinsing away any bad odors. Your feet met with the tiled floor, leaving those annoying, wet puddles in your step. A clean towel was already hanging from the thin railing latched on the wall, which you quickly snatched up to dry the droplets of water rolling down your body.

There was nothing better than that relieved feeling after a long shower. It worked wonders for the pressures you've been enduring lately. Your hand swiped diagonally across the fogged mirror, revealing only half of your reflection. You contently stared at yourself, noticing the usual tiredness in your eyes starting to vanish.  

You departed from the bathroom and into your messy closet, briskly digging around until you settled on an oversize t-shirt and a random pair of panties. You didn't have the energy to hassle with the clips of your bra so you decided to go without one, knowing it could wait till morning.

The night wasn't officially over until you turned off the remaining lights and checked if all doors were locked. You wandered through the house, visiting one room at a time until you were left with the kitchen. A cold breeze whipped past you, prompting a chain of goosebumps along your bare arms. Your head snapped over to the source, eyes landing squarely on the open window. How did that get open?

Just as you began to investigate, a pair of arms slithered around your waist. “Guess who?~”

Now, any sane person would have screamed at the top of their lungs, but this was a common occurrence for you. The presence looming behind you definitely belonged to Garou, his alluring voice sounding all too familiar. You peeled away from his hold and whirled around to face him, but his insanely built chest was the first to appear in your line of sight. You craned your neck just to get a glimpse of his face, which pretty much looked the same, but unlike before, his aura was practically screaming trouble. As much as you hated to admit it, you were in awe, “What are you doing here?”

Luckily, Garou wasn't paying you any mind, his eyes too occupied with traveling around the kitchen. “I'm hungry.”, He stepped past you and headed for the refrigerator, “What’s for dinner?”

After an entire month of no communication or surprise visits, he was back, and without the apology or explanation you deserved. Both of your hands firmly rested upon your hips, doing their best not to wrap around his neck and strangle him, “Garou, its almost 12 o'clock.”

“So?”, Garou answered plainly, closing the fridge and switching to the cabinets, his perfect height keeping him face to face with each built-in space. You watched in disbelief, a part of you wondering how he could be so casual like he didn't go MIA for weeks, but also admiring the muscles that seemed to flex so deliciously under that tight, long-sleeved shirt.

You slowly exhaled from your nose, “Sooo, stop going through my stuff.”

Despite your efforts to hide it, Garou could easily sense the irritation in your tone. He briefly paused his search to glance in your direction, “What's with the attitude? I thought you'd be happy to see me.”

Your hands reluctantly slid down from your hips. Of course you were happy to see him. It was impossible to forget all the times he popped up at your house just to talk, the conversations ranging from trivial matters to current problems with the rise of monsters and heroes. He was the only guy that made you feel the happiest during the lonesome days of your life. Not to mention the suggestive flirting and ‘accidental’ touches.

But he went and disappeared, unannounced and without a trace.

The memory struck a nerve, instantly bringing you back to your hostile behavior. “I already left you and everything we did in the past.”, you declared confidently, even though half of it was lie.

Garou didn't have a response this time, he only stared at you, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. This obviously wasn't how he was excepting you to react, he blinked dumbfoundedly. You shifted uncomfortably, thinking maybe you went too far, until you noticed his eyes weren't on your face anymore, but your chest instead. Thanks to the open window from earlier, your nipples were poking underneath your shirt, in perfect view for Garou to see. Your arms shot up to cover your chest, “Hey! Keep your eyes on my face, pervert.” The fact that you were barely clothed completely flew over your head since you were so irritated with his calm demeanor.

“Pervert?”, He laughed at your flustered face, smugly leaving his spot by the cabinets to stand directly in front of you. He leaned down to your level, an amused smirk playing on his face. “It’s not like I haven’t seen em’ before.”

All sensible thoughts were abandoning your mind, the only thing you could do was conceal your erect nipples embarrassingly. Being so close rendered a good view of the hunger in his eyes. Another laugh filled the room, “Oh right, that was in the past.” Your discomfort didn’t make him back away, instead he inched closer, this time right next to your ear, “Do you need me to remind you?”

It didn't take long for his words to send a wave of excitement between your legs, a sensation you'd long forgotten ever since he left. Just when you thought you had the situation under control for once, he managed to spin it around in his favor. You turned your back to him, “No, I don't want to remember so just leave.”

Garou remained close behind you, the distance separating your bodies was very slim, “You know you don't mean that.”, he teased, unfazed by your threat, “Stop being a damn baby and let me make it up to you.”, his arms encircled your torso for the second time today, and you had a feeling he wouldn't be letting you go.

“What do you mean—”, your words fell short at the pair of lips that connected with the crook of your neck. It was a gentle kiss against your skin, a little alarming at first but delicate enough to make you relax. He lingered there for a moment before trailing kisses up to your jawline. Your eyelids slid shut, a blissful gasp escaping your mouth. Seeing as you didn't try to run off, he took it a step further and nibbled at sensitive areas he memorized from previous interactions.

Garou knew you had no intention of rejecting his advances, but he still decided to test the waters. His warm tongue playfully darted out to lick the shell of your ear. The way your back shivered against his chest was more than enough answer, yet he still preferred to tease you anyway, “If you want me to stop just say it.”, his hands were now underneath your shirt, rubbing at your sides affectionately.

This may be your only chance to finally break free his spell, kick him out of your life forever and move on, but the more you thought of that outcome, the more it seemed to bring you pain. There was no way you could tell him to stop now, especially since he's got you all hot and bothered.

Just as he expected, you didn't put up much of a fight, “Mh, that’s what I thought.” There was no turning back now, he had you right where he wanted. Those large pair of hands roamed straight up to your breast, eagerly groping them however they pleased. The nipples you were desperately trying to hide before were softly pinched between his thumb and finger. You whimpered shyly, gradually submitting to his temptations and giving him all the access he needed.

Garou pulled your shirt off in one quick motion and twirled your body around to face him. He lifted you up by your thighs, effortlessly settling them around his waist. Garou charged at your lips, his tongue forcibly invading your mouth. You matched his enthusiasm, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperately pulling him closer and deeper. He backed you up against a nearby wall, his hips grazing between your legs ever so slightly, allowing you to feel his hard length, but only for a moment. He was starting to tease you again. You impatiently reached down to palm his clothed dick, which was clinging tightly against his pants, begging to be let free.

Garou detached himself from your lips, “Not yet, I want to focus on you first.”, he grabbed both of your arms and pinned them above your head. There was no room for protest as he reclaimed your lips again, kissing you more fiercely than before. It seems he was serious about making up for lost time. No matter how relaxed and unbothered he appeared to be, Garou completely understood that you were hurt by his abrupt absence, and this was his way of saying sorry.

Using his other free hand, he drifted between your thighs and pressed against your damp panties. His fingers caressed the material so close to your throbbing pussy, nearly driving you insane, “Please, Garou.” His ears perked up at your whimpering, instantly falling in love with the sound. He easily tore apart the piece of fabric and discarded them on the floor. Taking his middle and index finger, he plunged into your slick entrance just as you asked. Your back arched, a delighted moan falling from lips. But your satisfaction was short-lived as he pumped in and out of you at a terribly slow pace. Not only were your wrist imprisoned in his grip, but he was mischievously watching each of your needy reactions.

“Do you forgive me now?”, Garou catered to your neglected breast, kissing and biting around the areola while curling his fingers inside your tight walls. You vigorously nodded your head, unable to speak, but it still wasn't enough for him. “I don't think you do.”, his thumb rubbed against your clit, stirring up more pleasure in the pit of your stomach, “How about now?”

The wild combination was enough to make you use your words, “Yes, Yes, Yes, I f-forgive you.” His slender fingers were striking spots you never knew about. It felt so good you found yourself grinding against his fingers, moaning helplessly. The intimate moments you shared before felt nothing like this, it was like you were living deep within ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back, a sudden thirst overpowering you, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck.”, Garou grunted, he thought he could hold himself back earlier but now he was at his limit. Distracting himself by attacking your swollen lips just wasn't working anymore. He released your wrist from his grasp and went to rub his painfully hard dick. “Look at me.”, his fingers picked up their momentum, reviving you from your dazed state and right into his possessive stare. By the way your walls were fastening around fingers, you were near your orgasm. He sinked further inside you, “Cum.”

Just as he commanded, your creamy, white liquids were flowing down his hand, which was hungrily licked up as soon as you finished. The upper half of your body limply fell against his chest, trembling frantically. It was obvious that you were exhausted, but he knew very little about aftercare, only allowing your body to calm down for a second before letting you down from his hold. “Garou.”, you whined, legs still wobbling and breath uneven, but it was too late, he had already dropped the pants that were irritatingly restricting his dick. A little precum was dripping from the tip, “Turn around, I'm not done yet.” Garou was fully engulfed with lust, it was evident in the way he looked at you.

With the little energy you had left, you did as you were told, hands flat on wall and body bent over. He didn't waste another second, firmly gripping your hips and thrusting right into your pussy. You sucked in a deep breath, his length stretched you out way more than his fingers, and you wondered why he just didn't start with it from the beginning. Your knees began to buckle at his harsh pounding. He continuously pulled you down his length, keeping his eyes trained on your back, loving it’s perfect arch. Your cries of pleasure was like music to his ears. “Whats my name?”, he growled.

You moaned hoarsely, “Garou.”

Of course he pretended like he didn't hear, “Say it. Louder.”, his pace never faltered as his dick rammed deeper inside you with each thrust. Your hands were sliding down the wall now, unable to keep up with his stamina. You were quivering all over, a sign that another orgasm was threatening to release, the feeling was overwhelmingly good. “Garou!”, you violently came again, adding onto the liquids that were already trickling down your legs. Garou pulled out of you soon after, his hot seed splattering all over your back.

If you had been in the right state of mind, you would've scolded him, but right now you just needed to rest. Garou wasn't panting as harshly as you were, only a few droplets of sweat ran down his forehead. You were the only one who could barely stand, the wall being your only support.

This was the time where Garou was supposed to say something meaningful and go run you a bath, but he just stood and admired his work, a sense of pride rushing through him, “You look so pretty like that—”

“Wait, Garou.”, your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, instantly recognizing the erotic tone in his voice, “Let me take a break first!”

He grinned cheekily, already reaching for you with greedy hands,  “Come on, one more round won't hurt.”

[archived-gtronpa-account]

I just,,, wanna offer my contribution to @sam-cant-function 's borrower Makoto AU so,,,

Borrower!Ultimate hope !!

Word count: 2100

Summary: Naegiri, but Makoto is a borrower and Kyoko isn't easy to fool.

(based on this post)

___

Pins, needles, paperclips; it was hard not to notice those missing for someone as sharp as Kyoko.

The mysterious crumbs on spotless countertops were also a giveaway. She would have thought of vermins and pests running in her walls had it only been for the crumbs and missing foods, but the odd ustensiles and knick-knacks that frequently went missing eventually lead the detective girl to an odd conclusion; there was a small, intelligent being swiping from her.

She considered investigating the place to see if she could understand what kind of being she was being faced with, but decided against it as the creature might see her in the act and flee off, so she opted for a more sublte approach.

Everyday, she kept a drawer cracked open, an unfinished plate out, some pencil leads carefully scattered on the floor; any small thing she'd notice were it to disappear. Later at the academy, where the creature couldn't spy on her, she would take out her notebook and make a list of what had been taken that day.

Looking at her notes had her more and more impressed every time. The little creature seemed to have a concept of habit and schedule; taking necessities weekly to bi-weekly according to its needs rather than stealing whatever was available. Kyoko also started to make tests to try to understand the nature of the creature, leaving animal foods out now and then, small mechanical parts, crafting materials, fabric, seeds...

Gradually, it became clear that the little being had a tendency to steal the more humane things she left out. That piqued her curiosity, and lead her to notice things she hadn't seen before, like bits of soap missing, or a small trail of shampoo under her closed bottle.

Kyoko found herself amused and eager to investigate about the small humane being. Everyday, she was so excited to see what had gone missing that she found it hard to keep the smile off her face.

After school, she went to her room and knelt down, feigning to pick up a discarded paper when she was only counting the paperclips on the floor.

"...four, five..." She muttered under her breath. There was one missing. Usually, that also meant some yarn would be missing as well.

She stood up and headed to where the roll of yarn was left, when she heard shuffling.

Her eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. There was a lone can of white paint on a shelf, but nothing unusual about it.

She kept her gaze fixated on the can, silent and motionless. There was no mistaking that sound, something was hiding behind that container.

Kyoko saw something, a flicker of movement or her eyes tricking her. It was so small she would have missed it had she blinked, but she was certain it was movement.

Runts and pests don't hide and stay silent. Chances were, the little thief was hiding behind the paint can. It seemed like it didn't have anywhere to flee from there. Kyoko bit her lip, uncertain about the situation. She had done her best for weeks to stay out of the creature's business, only investigating from the shadows, but at that moment she had the perfect opportunity to finally get a good look at it and confirm some of her suspicions. Still, she risked scaring it off and never seeing it again. She could leave the room, and keep watching from the shadows forever.

But she wanted more than that.

Kyoko shook her head, stood on her tip toes and made her way to the shelf, quiet as a mouse. Thankfully, the lamp at the end of the room played in her favor, as her shadow wouldn't give her away if she looked from above at the right angle.

She stood still and listened for any movement, any shifting, breathing. She thought she had heard something, but she couldn't place it.

Kyoko leaned above the can, and her eyes widened at the sight. Maybe she had expected some animalistic creature, with some sort of anthropomorphic characteristic at most. She had not expected the creature to look so unsettlingly human.

Two hands and two feet, a human face and head with a tuft of brown messy hair on top, clothing, shoes and a bag. It looked exactly like a human boy, aside from some small furry tail on its back.

It jumped in surprise and it's head shot up in her direction. Dammit, she must have lost her focus and breathed out.

Purple eyes locked onto brown ones. The detective noticed the small boy's face contorted in fear, it's whole body shaking and it's arms clinging onto its bag. He looked so human, and it radiated off terror. Kyoko felt a pang of guilt at the sight. Her curiosity had lead to that outcome, and who knew what would happen after that encounter?

Kyoko turned around and left the room, eyes fixated on the ground. Hopefully, if she left fast and let the tiny boy escape, he would come back again and not run away to where she would never see him again.

____

The boy must have understood her trick

For days, she didn't find her stuff missing anymore. The pins and needles didn't bother her as much as the crumbs remaining on her counter every morning. Either he had found a new source of food, or the tiny boy had left for good.

Turned out, it was the former. Kyoko eventually started to find small dents in her food packages and boxes. The relief of that discovery was short lived however, as she realized there was much less food missing than ever, and times and times again, she didn't find crumbs missing from the same package after she found dents on it.

To think that the tiny boy must have been keeping tabs on her to see if she would trick him again, change food sources all the time not to get caught, and the worryingly small amount of food missing... Kyoko felt sick with guilt. Her curiosity had lead her to starving the tiny boy, and she had no idea on how to go about fixing her mistake.

Eventually, she decided to leave a simple note out and some food in a bottle cap, some attempt at an apology. But that didn't work. However, when she got her note back, she took time to examine it at the academy and traced footprints on it. The best result she got from that was that the boy had opened the note and stood at the bottom of the text, strongly suggesting he had read the note or at least knew the placement of Latin letters.

Given the intellect that much required, she hypothesised that the tiny boy may be able to understand her English to some extent. She considered trying to communicate with him, but decided against it for the longest time.

That option came back to mind when her belongings started being brought back.

It had been such a long time since she found the number of pins on her desk decreasing, so it came as a shock when she found it increasing, at eight instead of seven.

Later that same day, she found a paperclip in her bag that she was sure she hadn't placed.

That much was odd, and admittedly, worrying for the detective. She wasn't sure what the implications of her stuff being gradually bought back were, but in any case, she feared she might be harming the tiny boy badly. She needed to act soon.

If he decided to leave for good, then be it, but Kyoko wouldn't let him live in hunger and fear. He'd either stay and live well or leave for his own good.

Kyoko stayed up that same night and awaited his arrival. When the clock struck four, she thought the tiny boy wouldn't come that night, but her worry vanished when she heard shuffling in the kitchen.

She waited a moment and listened to the small pitter-patter of tiny feet. Once she heard it had gotten far enough from its initial source, she got up and made her way to the kitchen.

Turning the lights on could give the impression that she had an advantage, so she kept them off and carfully stepped in the dark room.

"Hello?" Her eyes scanned the counters and floor, but she didn't find anything, or anyone.

"Please, don't be afraid. I'm only here to talk," she did her best to keep her voice soft.

Kyoko was met with deafening silence. She had expected no less though, so she was fine with keeping the dialogue up on her own.

"I'm sorry if I startled you the other day," the girl took a couple steps forward and held her hands up, but after consideration, brought them behind her back. "I don't mean to interfer with your, err, business..."

She saw a flicker of movement behind a chair. Instinctively, her eyes darted there and locked onto the tiny form that had emerged, making him flinch. She cursed herself, wishing she had ignored it.

On the other hand, she was glad she was making eye contact with the little boy, at least he was willing to communicate to some extent.

"Can you understand me?" She spoke in a clear, articulate voice.

The tiny boy shook his head vigorously, but tensed up when he realized his mistake. Had the atmosphere not been so tense, Kyoko would have found the slip-up kind of cute and funny.

"Alright then." The girl took a step back, and carefully knelt down to be more at eye-level with the tiny boy. "Again, I'm sorry for bothering you, that wasn't my intention. Please, rest assured I have no intention of ever harming you in any way. I don't want you to get hurt or feel hungry or anything of the sort. So, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to come take it, and I won't interact with you if it makes you uncomfortable."

"S-seriously...?" He squeaked out, voice cracking a bit. The answer startled the detective. She hadn't even thought he would want to listen to her, let alone want answer and have the capacity to. She gave a small, solemn nod.

"Like, really, th-this isn't a trick or anything though, right...?" He was surprisingly talkative. Things were going even better than Kyoko could have hoped, she almost wanted to pinch herself in fear she had fallen asleep in the night and was just dreaming. But she kept her head clear and herself composed.

"Even though I'm only a stranger, and this might mean nothing to you, I do promise that I'm only speaking the truth," she kept her eyes on him, fiery with determination.

"Oh- I know you're the kinda person who keeps their promises though, h-hah..." He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. His mannerisms were exactly like those of any human; he was even more expressive than Kyoko herself. Her heart pounded against her ribcage in excitement, everything about the strange small person was bizzare and impressive. "Uhm, so, thanks. A-anyway, can I go now?" The tiny boy stumbled a few steps back, eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit.

He'd been so talkative for a few seconds, Kyoko had forgotten how scared he must be in her presence and how he would eventually have to go.

"Of course." And Kyoko thought that would be the last time she'd see the tiny boy.

How wrong she had been.

The next morning, she almost dropped the mug in her hands when she found the boy on her counter, feet dangling off the edge in a casual pose.

"A-ah, heya, just thought I'd... drop by!" He'd squeaked out, nervous but still present and not fleeing. Kyoko was startled, to say the least, but she was definitely intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. So she quietly took a seat and nodded, waiting for the boy's next move.

"And, uh, about yesterday! It was pretty cool of you, so... thanks," he radiated off nervousness, yet he'd had the courage to come back, talk to her, and even force a small, polite smile. The detective girl was impressed and, admittedly, honoured. The brave gesture warmed her heart.

"It's alright. I'm glad you're confident enough to come now," a small smile made its way on her face. "My name is Kyoko." She looked away, and took a sip of her coffee.

"Kyoko, huh... Well, I-Im Makoto, nice to meetcha. So... Uh, wanna be friends?"

____

Heck yea! And now Makoto drops by now and then to chat and keep the detective girl from staying up too late brainstorming a case, and she sometimes spots him and drops a few words maybe even invites him to hangout sometimes and all in all they vibin. such good buddies!

Makoto dude you're so silly even a clumsy girl like Komaru wouldn't have gotten caught like that,, haha,, right,,,?

Hmm anyway I have a feeling I made them a lil too ooc n the end was rushed, but honestly I tried my best to fix what k could and I have no clue how to save the rest so I'll just leave it at this. I'm just happy bout borrower purest boo :ppp

[largemaxa]

Winning, Losing, and the Ego

The ego is the chief obstacle in the way of spiritual realization. It is what separates us from the Divine or our true nature. But it can be surprisingly difficult to understand what exactly the ego is. Sri Aurobindo defines it as "a self-limitation of consciousness by a willed ignorance of the rest of its play and its exclusive absorption in one form" (The Life Divine 63). In other words, it is a psychological principle of separation from the rest of existence that is manifested throughout our being. This is the most cogent definition, the one that most clearly defines the nature and scope of the ego with respect to the other terms of existence we find in metaphysical philosophy. But the risk of using such an abstract definition is that it can be difficult to apply it in the context of our mundane experience. Where do we actually observe this "self-limitation" in our daily routines? The meditative traditions propose one way to go beyond the limitations of the ego. But the ego is present in our lives all the time, even beyond the meditation couch. How are we to to find it and rout it out?

The most foolproof method of working with the ego, if there can be said to be one, is to follow the guidance of the realized guru who deeply understands the psychological makeup of the disciple and can guide him or her through the difficult passage. In fact, identifying the operations of the ego is extremely difficult. The difficulty of dealing with the ego is that any psychological movement can be a manifestation of the ego, but it could also be a manifestation of the true Divine individuality that lies past the ego. Even an apparent defect of the outer nature like messiness, which would seem like something that must be transcended in a state of order, can in some cases be an expression of a Divine principle; but it requires exceptional intuition to be able to sort this possibility out from the more common explanation that it is an egoistic attachment to tamas. In the absence of the realized guru who can make these determinations, the individual is left with their own discrimination; eventually they may be united with the guidance of the soul or with the intuitive planes above the mind which can help them along the way. In the meantime, there are any number of heuristic principles that guide us along the way. Selflessness is, in general, preferable to selfishness; love is to be preferred to hatred; and so on. Heuristics can be helpful, but their generality can make it difficult to know how to apply them precisely.

The power of the heuristic schema of "winning versus losing" for identifying the operation of the ego lies in its rich structure and clarity. Once we recognize that we are in its grip, it is exceptionally clear how to apply the terms, interpret the situation, and work towards dismantling an instance of the ego's operation. The principle of this schema is that the ego is attached to winning in any situation it finds itself in. The terms of the schema are our ego, a game-like situation, the adversarial psychological entity competing with us, and our psychological reaction. These game-like situations involve other psychological entities which are generally other people, but in the case of a deadly animal or a faceless corporation, we may project human psychologies onto them. A game-like situation is a circumscribed situation that is carved out from life where there is a notion of "winning" or "losing" some prize or end-condition. And the reaction is the perturbed psychological state that we encounter when we realize we want to win the game, or realize that we are losing and don't like it.

It is frequently the reaction we have to a situation that alerts us to the fact that we are in a game-like situation, sometimes even against our own wishes. And the reaction is even able to point out the ego as an entity itself, which is what makes this schema so instructive. Once the game is seen, we see that the ego is the player who has cut itself off from the rest of existence and is purely absorbed in its petty victory or defeat. One of the most frequent and recognizable instances of this phenomenon is when we are on the road and another car cuts us off or overtakes us. We feel irritation or indignation and plot and stew in it, and wonder how we can overtake the other car in turn, or at least keep up a healthy speed to show that we are not "really" defeated. At the level of our higher self-concept we may think that we have gone beyond such petty occurrences; we may feel that such reactions are worthy of a child, or even a lower state of civilization. And yet we continue to have the reactions regardless of what our conscious mind tells us we should feel about them.

Here, it is the perturbed reaction we have to losing that reveals the game that was already carved out; it is an infantile game, but a game nonetheless: the game of who will be the car who is in the lead. And by the fact that we are attached to winning we identify the entity that wants to win as the ego. Once this pattern is recognized, we see it everywhere: trying to stay on top of an email chain at work; dealing with the customer service representative we are on the phone with; trying to return a defective product at the grocery store; establishing the good name of our reputation at a dinner with friends of friends we don't yet know; and the simple example of the debate, where we are determined to prove our point of view against the adversary whose opposing view in the heat of the moment seems a threat to all that is decent in the world.

How are we to transcend this state? Knowledge of the games around us is a first step, and just having this knowledge can go a long way towards extricating ourselves from their traps. But simple awareness is ultimately not enough, because the nature of the game has a long history in the psyche, and the irrational drives that stabilize it are not so easily plucked out. Being aware of the triggered complex is one stage of growing past the game. Having an attitude of quietude towards the triggered response is the next stage; in this state, the burning desire to win or the rage at the thought of losing is quieted to a simmer, though it does continue boiling quietly in some part of our consciousness. Another level of growing past the reaction is to feel the vibration gone from our consciousness altogether; the simmering pot in the back room is taken off and we don't feel the reaction inside us at all.

It would seem that this is the final level, but of course it is not. Sri Aurobindo has described how vibrations that are rejected in one part of the nature can go down to a lower level of being such as the subconscious and come back later (Letters on Yoga IV 604). Inevitably when dealing with the game situation the next time, the feelings of wanting to dominate will come back, when we meet the stubborn friend, get on the phone with customer support, and so on. We must remain vigilant and do the best we can to defuse the triggered response, knowing that the true victory may take many attempts. The best case is that we are able to transform our reaction enough that the game opens up into a new, win-win possibility; or if not that, then at least the game may conclude in a way that leaves us feeling more at peace, without raging feelings of victory or defeat.

It would seem that surmounting these reactions is tantamount to leaving the field of play altogether. But life beyond the reactions of win-lose games is the not the same as the experience of being off the field of play, but is rather a psychological space with more possibilities. It is important to note that there can still be conflict in this condition. And it is important to be able to bear these conflicts and see them through to the end, as there are still important aims to be sought out. On the road, we still need to coordinate so that everyone can get to the lane they want to, and some people will get positions farther ahead than others. Debates will continue, as the dialectical process of finding truth will require it, and there will be wins and losses. We may still by stonewalled on the customer support line or at the grocery store. The field of life is a field of conflict, and in asserting our highest truth and highest potentialities there will be be conflicts that need to be worked out. The way to tell a true conflict from a mere win-loss game is when we can identify the higher purpose that the conflict serves and that we must work out through our actions. But it is possible to undertake these conflicts in a psychological state of equality, where our reactions to each gain or setback are not constantly perturbed by the status of the game the mind carves out and attempts to win. In this state, the Divine Force flows through us; this force sometimes flows freely, and sometimes is obstructed, but we trust that it eventually finds its way to the outcomes that it seeks to accomplish.

This principle of win-loss games and the ego can be used to give a reading of the great scripture of engagement with life, the Bhagavad Gita. Contemplating the conflict that he has to go through, Arjuna shrinks from the battle that he is tasked with by his dharma. But Lord Krishna reminds him that he must continue and fight in order for the processes of the world to continue to unfold. Arjuna recognizes that entering the game of battle in an untransformed consciousness cannot lead to a positive outcome; he would only be winning or losing in the terms of the ego. But attempting to avoid the game altogether is still an egoic reaction; in reality, because the processes of the world continue on as they always do, there is no real possibility of leaving the field of battle. Arjuna must engage with the battle with a consciousness undertakes action while transcending the dualities of winning and losing. So it is in our own lives; we cannot avoid the demanding and often conflictual nature of the situations our life presents to it. But we can leave behind the win-lose reactions of the ego and engage with life from a higher poise—and we must, if we are to develop to the higher spiritual consciousness that is possible for us.

Works Cited

Sri Aurobindo. The Life Divine. Sri Aurobindo Ashram Publication Department, 2005.

Sri Aurobindo. Letters on Yoga IV. Sri Aurobindo Ashram Publication Department, 2014.

[pokelolmc]

Ectoberweek Day 2: (Pulse)

Sadly, my Ectoberweek submissions are a few days behind because of...pesonal reasons. This is what happens when I wing it last-minute, I guess (also, this one turned out much longer than I anticipated).

This one is also a crossover, with Doctor Who (featuring the Ninth Doctor), but hopefully it’s not too much trouble to get the gist of if you haven’t seen it:

ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13729906/2/EctoberWeek-2020-Collection

‘A faint spectre of a familiar wheezing noise—something roughly halfway between an electric train engine and some contraption from the mind of H.G Wells—drifted through Danny’s window, bolting him unceremoniously up off of his bed in a messy paradox of fear and excitement. A quick ghost-aided hop out of the second-floor window landed Danny safely onto the manicured lawn of his backyard with nary a giveaway crunch of grass. He leapt into a hurried sprint out to his front yard and down the footpath, a prayer on his lips that Jazz—or, god forbid, his parents—wouldn’t find it odd he locked his bedroom door for something as mundane as an alleged “nap”.

He couldn’t tell them why he was leaving, not without admitting a secret he dreaded they wouldn’t understand.

He sadly had little justification to convince him they would, considering the misery of the past hellish year that slipped by his hitherto closest loved ones completely unnoticed, let alone understood. The only person who could understand his discomfort was a once-stranger who had properly noticed, pulled him back to his feet and saved him when everyone else couldn’t.

For someone as guarded in lies as Danny, the hefty pile of trust he invested in the Doctor after only half a year still continually stunned him…

…For all the time that he had been a halfa, Danny adamantly ignored the implications of his own modified biology. As he zeroed his focus in on his early superhero-esque impression of the outcome, the notion of becoming something not entirely human sat tightly folded and stuffed into the belly of his mental closet where it could no longer hurt him—out of sight, out of mind. The notion of an otherworldly, freakish creature—one of the only two on the entire planet—alone amongst a crowd of normal humans, ready to tear him apart should they find out he was not one of their kind…

It reared its ugly head out of depths of his psyche in his nightmares.

An unfortunate doubt had burrowed its deep way into his heart that, no matter how well his family and friends knew him, the intricacies of his situation were impossible for them to understand— unlike him, they all remained fully human…powerless, mundane, living without fear of being found out as something else… Vlad, for all that he was Danny’s fellow in physical nature, remained his moral opposite. Danny lost count of just how many times that broken record had replayed his denial of Plasmius’s contemptible deal to the stubborn maniac. By all accounts, he should’ve had no one to turn to.

However, for all of the paranoid secrecy that lodged the topic close to the vest, Danny felt fare more at ease breaching it with the Doctor, minus the unpleasantness of the touchy subject matter tasting bitter in his mouth…

…“…Something wrong?”

“Can we talk about it inside...?”

The Doctor nodded carefully, letting Danny into the vast exterior of the disguised time machine and locking the door behind him.

The teenager shuffled in as the Doctor paced to a cooler bag resting beyond the edge of the main console to grab a drink for them both, returning to break his companion’s awkward silence.

“I assume this is something difficult, then?”

“Well…yeah.” Danny responded pathetically, rubbing the back of his neck as he averted the man’s gaze. “It kind of occurred to me earlier, but I’ve never wanted to think about it…”

Those ancient eyes pierced immediately into him.

“Does it have to do with your family?”

“No!” he stammered hastily, “It’s just…”

His throat moved as if possessed, his voice lowering carefully from a reflex honed for reasons he wished never had to be.

“I…what do I do?  …What if people find out what I am?”…

The Doctor’s eyes blinked almost owlishly for such a scant second that Danny wasn’t even sure if he had just been imagining it, before his features schooled into a pensive frown.

“Oh…”

“I can’t take it! I told myself I was normal, still normal, forever…but I’m just deluding myself!” his hands clenched tightly into shaking fists by his sides, “I’ll never be a normal human like everyone else again! I have powers they don’t; DNA that’s different to theirs—how different is my body, even, to a normal human’s?! How much physical, undeniable proof is there that I’m not normal?!  Have I got some sort of freaky biology that would set me apart from everyone in a hospital—that as soon as they took a look at me, they’d know I wasn’t like them?! A monster?! A weird thing that needs to be locked up?! What am I supposed to do when everyone finds out that I’m some freak?! How…how can I live with something like that?!”…

…“Danny, there’s nothing ‘freakish’ about being other than human; normalcy is in the eye of the beholder.”

Danny’s gaze sank to the floor, fighting a losing battle to keep his face restrained, eyes dodging away from the Doctor as he put a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“You say that…but you don’t know what people are like.”

“Oh, I think a good 700 years of being acquainted with Earth had made sure I know.” The Doctor scoffed.

“You don’t know what being human is like! You don’t know what I’ve lost!” ripped itself from Danny’s trembling throat.

“I don’t, I’ll admit that—but for all it’s worth, why does it have to be something to mourn? There’s nothing wrong with having biology different to a human’s, and that’s not going to change what you’re worth or take away your ability to find a place to call your own.”

“What about my parents and the people in town? Even Tucker and Sam, forgetting what they already know, would still find me weird if they found out how deep it went! It would matter to them!”

“—You already know I’m not human; you just said so.” the Doctor replied simply.

“Do you think it would matter to me?”

Danny choked on a dumbfounded stutter.

“I…I don’t know.”

The older of the duo tapped a hand on Danny’s shoulder, trying to coax the younger’s gaze upwards, with a thoughtful pause…

“Danny, did you know I have two hearts?”

Danny snapped up to look him in the eye.

“It’s true!” the alien crowed in mock defence, “You must’ve forgotten if you don’t remember! I’m sure I’ve mentioned it at least once!”

A cocked brow from the boy told him to return to seriousness, “For all I look like a human to you, Danny, Time Lord biology has quite a few major differences on the inside; mainly, two hearts—additionally, also a respiratory bypass system in the same area. It’s quite useful in situations of air blockages. That is a clear, solid reminder that would prove me vastly different to any human who took a look—and they have, too...a hospital had the unfortunate shock of taking my bloods and chest x-rays in the 1970’s. It’s happened quite a few times since.”

Leather wrinkled as he rolled up one sleeve in response to Danny’s gaping face, offering his bare wrist to him.

“Go ahead—feel my pulse; it’s right there, double time—the vascular valves have to work twice as fast to keep up with a second heart.”

Danny cocked an eyebrow, taken aback for a few short seconds before gingerly taking the Doctor’s wrist in his hand…

…As Danny fumbled to find the right spot and gesture, the Doctor mimed with his own free hand on the wrist to guide Danny on the correct position.

He fought down the light tremors of emotion in his hand as he tried to focus on the right spot beneath the time traveller’s skin, tactile attention peeled for any slight movement.

Thump-thump,

The hybrid’s eyes shot as wide open as dinner plates.

A beat rippled under the pads of his fingers, rapidly fluttering in quickly succeeding rounds of two each third of a second…

…Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…

A vague fog spilled into his brain an isolated fact from tenth-grade science—a snippet of the teacher’s comparisons to show the rough scale of average resting heart rates.

The Doctor’s pulse hurried like a human pumped up on terrifying high of adrenaline…all, incredibly, while still at rest. Such a pace remained impossible for a human heart to handle alone…

A chest far more bizarre than any of the freakish physiological anomalies he had ever fathomed or dreaded discovering in his own mutated body.

“How…how fast is that?” Danny stammered in awe, pulling his hand away.

“Roughly around 126 beats per minute, resting.” The Doctor grinned proudly, “That can go up to 150 when I’m running. The hearts themselves are even faster than the pulse—in rounds of four. You think that’s too different from human for you to have no problems with?”…

… He glanced over the other’s smaller frame.

“Want to try yours? Take some vitals to see if there’s anything different we need to know of?”

Danny frowned, unease starting to pool in the bottom of his stomach.      

“But, we’re in Amity Park…”

“We’re in Amity Park in the TARDIS” he corrected, “safe from any prying eyes—those walls are impenetrable. There’s no better place than here to take a look—and knowing how your own body adapted to ectoplasm will very likely come in handy later.

If not now, that’s alright—but consider it for later some time; self-knowledge is very important, and courage starts with stepping up to face what frightens you.”

“No…I’ll give it a go now.” Danny decided hesitantly.

“Alright, then.” The Doctor strolled briskly down a branching corridor, disappearing down the amber hallway.

The console room fell into silence, only broken by the faint drone of the TARDIS engines in the background. Left to his own devices in the empty room, curiosity lightly crept in over the upset in Danny’s chest, tempting him into a quick glance at his own wrist.

He’d gotten to check the Doctor’s pulse…so what about his own?...”

Read full story from beginning under cut:

A faint spectre of a familiar wheezing noise—something roughly halfway between an electric train engine and some contraption from the mind of H.G Wells—drifted through Danny’s window. He sprung up off of his bed with the suddenness of a wound-up spring, in a messy paradox of fear and excitement. Hardly a blade of backyard grass crunched under his step as he ejected himself, ghost-aided, from the second story window. He leapt into a hurried sprint out to his front yard and down the footpath, a prayer on his lips that Jazz—or, god forbid, his parents—wouldn’t find it odd he locked his bedroom door for something as mundane as an alleged “nap”.

He couldn’t tell them why he was leaving, not without admitting a secret he dreaded they wouldn’t understand.

He sadly had little justification to convince him they would, considering the misery of the past hellish year that slipped by his hitherto closest loved ones completely unnoticed, let alone understood. The only person who could understand his discomfort was a once-stranger who had properly noticed, pulled him back to his feet and saved him when everyone else couldn’t.

For someone as guarded in lies as Danny, the hefty pile of trust he invested in the Doctor after only sixth months still baffled his own judgement.

Sheer serendipity had smashed them into each other in the dirty, deserted alleys of Amity Park in the heat of late spring—in retrospect, it was only sensible that Amity Park’s run-ragged local protector was pulled head-first into the Doctor’s mission to chase down an alien threat to the town. Danny’s experience with danger, quick thinking and compassion received the unbelievable surprise of an approving eye from the peculiar “traveller”—and at the end of an averted crisis, their exchange switched from a currency of snarky banter to their inevitably unveiling secrets. Two pairs of light sapphires locked into each other’s depths, piercing through the icy surfaces to glimpse at mutually familiar reflections of loneliness and pain. With the planting of a hand on Danny’s shoulder, and the man’s lighthearted switch to a casual offer to take him on a trip (he owed the boy one for the help, was his excuse), and Danny had finally witnessed the unthinkable: the miraculous salvaging of the hitherto unsalvageable.

His childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, struck down by the brutal consequences of recklessly buckling to peer pressure at fourteen (sacrificing one half of his life to get his powers, and the other half to the ungrateful town he used them for), had somehow been resurrected from the ashes. In the blinding abyss of despair that tore from him all motivation and vision of his own meaning and future, he had finally regained sight of what he had longed for so long ago:

He was offered a chance to see the stars.

…not just gazing at constellations from the roof he vastly preferred to the entire home that sat underneath, but a chance to spare a glance up close and personal—on the densely populated planets pulled into the stars’ orbits. To bask in the colourful evidence of those stars in an alien sunrise, and set foot on the moons and asteroids bizarre geological impossibilities called their ancient homes…

One trip turned into a second…which, unsurprisingly, turned into a third…

From there, the call of Danny’s responsibility to stay in Amity brought a semi-regular schedule of visits back and forth—from Danny relearning what hope felt like from the firsthand wonders of space, to the Doctor’s frequent check-in visits to the child’s haunted hometown. Hours filled with conversation and strengthening rapport that Danny’s busy double life deprived him of having with his family and friends. A fresh perspective on the universe leapt into his life out of the blue and sat, in a worn leather jacket and raven buzz-cut, listening to his pain and pushing him to heal.

That report nagged at Danny from the recesses of his mind, insisting on the only person he could take his dredged-up dilemma to.

For all the time that he had been a halfa, Danny adamantly ignored the implications of his own modified biology. As he distracted himself with his earlier superhero-esque impression of gaining ghost powers, the notion of becoming something not entirely human sat tightly folded and stuffed into the underbelly of his mental closet where it couldn’t hurt him—out of sight, out of mind. The concept of an otherworldly, freakish creature—one of the only two on the entire planet—alone in a crowd of normal humans with the tenacity to tear him apart as soon as they knew…

It reared its ugly head in his nightmares.

An unfortunate doubt burrowed a deep beeline into his heart that, no matter how well his family and friends knew him, the intricacies of his situation were impossible for them to understand. Unlike him, they all remained fully human…powerless, mundane, living without fear of being found out as something else… Vlad, for all that he was Danny’s fellow in physical nature, remained his moral opposite. Danny lost count of just how many times that broken record had replayed his denial of Plasmius’s contemptible deal to the stubborn maniac. By all accounts, the second halfa should’ve had no one to turn to.

However, for all of the paranoid secrecy that lodged the topic close to the vest, Danny felt almost entirely at ease breaching it with the Doctor—minus the unpleasant sting of the touchy subject matter tasting bitter in his mouth.

His hasty feet scraped to a stop at a sliver of blue wood past a corner. Relieving his straining lungs, his legs strolled the last few metres steadily of their own accord, ceasing before he bumped into the hilariously unfitting shape of a 1960’s British police box at the mouth of an alleyway. An unearthly glow pulsed faintly from the lantern atop the booth, tinting the deep Aegean-blue paint with scant patches of flashing turquoise. A soft orange glow streamed out in beams from the two windows on a pair of double doors at the entrance. Danny’s fingers reached up, sensitively, to the sturdy corner framing of the booth, his eyes catching the ebony sign that read “POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX” along the length of the roof. A shudder through the wood brushed feather-light underneath his fingertips in greeting, the warm purr of an impossibly ancient—and just as volatile—housecat eagerly welcoming its familiar guest.

After a quick rap on the doors, they swung open with a long creak, accompanied by a Northern British accent rising in a pleasant tenor.

“Ah, Danny—right on time again!” faded eyebrows shot up a bare forehead under the familiar black buzz-cut. A welcoming smile spread over half the distance from one embarrassingly prominent ear to another.

“I heard you landing.” the forced cheer in Danny’s words fell in ruins to the awkward, shaky tumble they came out in.

The grin quickly turned into a serious frown, those electric blue irises lowering their gaze in concern.

“…Something wrong?”

“Can we talk about it inside...?”

The Doctor nodded carefully, letting Danny into the vast exterior of the disguised time machine and locking the door behind him.

The teenager shuffled in as the Doctor paced to a cooler bag resting beyond the edge of the main console to grab a drink for them both. He broke his companion’s awkward silence.

“I assume this is something difficult, then?”

“Well…yeah.” Pathetic as it was, it was all the response Danny could momentarily muster. His gaze darted from one side to the other and he rubbed the back of his neck, “It kind of occurred to me earlier, but I’ve never wanted to think about it…”

Those ancient eyes pierced immediately into him with a protective air.

“Does it have to do with your parents?”

“No!” he stammered hastily, “—not exactly, it’s just…”

His throat moved as if possessed, his voice lowering carefully from a reflex honed for reasons he wished never had to be.

“I…what do I do? …What if people find out what I am...?”

The Doctor’s eyes blinked almost owlishly for such a scant second that Danny wasn’t even sure if he had just been imagining it, before his features schooled into a pensive frown.

“Oh…”

“I can’t take it! I told myself I was normal, still normal, forever…but I’m just deluding myself!” his hands clenched tightly into shaking fists by his sides, “I’ll never be a normal human like everyone else again! I have powers they don’t; DNA that’s different to theirs—how different is my body, even, to a normal human’s?! How much physical, undeniable proof is there that I’m not normal?!  Have I got some sort of freaky biology that would set me apart from everyone in a hospital—that as soon as they took a look at me, they’d know I wasn’t like them?! A monster?! A weird thing that needs to be locked up?! What am I supposed to do when everyone finds out that I’m some freak?! How…how can I live with something like that?!”

Silence.

“Danny, there’s nothing ‘freakish’ about being other than human; normalcy is in the eye of the beholder.”

Danny’s gaze sank to the floor, fighting a losing battle to keep his face restrained, eyes dodging away from the Doctor as he put a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“You say that…but you don’t know what people are like.”

“Oh, I think a good 700 years of being acquainted with Earth had made sure I know.” The Doctor scoffed.

“You don’t know what being human is like! You don’t know what I’ve lost!” ripped itself from Danny’s trembling throat.

“I don’t, I’ll admit that—but for all it’s worth, why does it have to be something to mourn? There’s nothing wrong with having biology different to a human’s, and that’s not going to change what you’re worth or take away your ability to find a place to call your own.”

“What about my parents and the people in town? Even Tucker and Sam, forgetting what they already know, would still find me weird if they found out how deep it went! It would matter to them!”

“—You already know I’m not human; you just said so.” the Doctor replied simply.

“Do you think it would matter to me?”

Danny choked on a dumbfounded stutter.

“I…I don’t know.”

The older of the duo tapped a hand on Danny’s shoulder, trying to coax the younger’s gaze upwards, with a thoughtful pause…

“Danny, did you know I have two hearts?”

Danny snapped up to look him in the eye.

“It’s true!” the alien crowed in mock defence, “You must’ve forgotten if you don’t remember! I’m sure I’ve mentioned it at least once!”

A cocked brow from the boy told him to return to seriousness, “For all I look like a human to you, Danny, Time Lord biology has quite a few major differences on the inside; mainly, two hearts—additionally, also a respiratory bypass system in the same area. It’s quite useful in situations of air blockages. That is a clear, solid reminder that would prove me vastly different to any human who took a look—and they have, too...a hospital had the unfortunate shock of taking my bloods and chest x-rays in the 1970’s. It’s happened quite a few times since.”

Leather wrinkled as he rolled up one sleeve in response to Danny’s gaping face, offering his bare wrist to him.

“Go ahead—feel my pulse; it’s right there, double time—the vascular valves have to work twice as fast to keep up with a second heart.”

Danny cocked an eyebrow, taken aback for a few short seconds before gingerly taking the Doctor’s wrist in his hand.

“Umm…how do I check for a pulse?”

“Take your index and middle finger together and put them on the wrist, underneath the base of the thumb; there’s a palpable vein there in most ‘humanoid’ species, a similar one in Time Lords as well.” As Danny fumbled to find the right spot and gesture, the Doctor mimed with his own free hand on the wrist to guide Danny on the correct position.

He fought down the light tremors of emotion in his hand as he tried to focus on the right spot beneath the time traveller’s skin, tactile attention peeled for any slight movement.

Thump-thump,

The hybrid’s eyes shot as wide open as dinner plates.

A beat rippled under the pads of his fingers, rapidly fluttering in quickly succeeding rounds of two each third of a second. It throbbed as fast as the metal-style Dumpty Humpty song he’d listened to on loop for the last two months, accelerated beyond the rabbiting thud of his heart in his chest when he ran himself ragged in the two-minute mile in ninth grade. The very rhythm of life that kept the Doctor in the universe, pushing his physiology onward, spoke clearly of the hidden contents of his ribcage.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…

A vague fog spilled into his brain an isolated fact from tenth-grade science—a snippet of the teacher’s comparisons to show the rough scale of average resting heart rates.

The Doctor’s pulse hurried like a human pumped up on terrifying high of adrenaline…all, incredibly, while still at rest. Such a pace remained impossible for a human heart to handle alone…

A chest far more bizarre than any of the freakish physiological anomalies he had ever fathomed or dreaded discovering in his own mutated body.

“How…how fast is that?” Danny stammered in awe, pulling his hand away.

“Roughly around 126 beats per minute, resting.” The Doctor grinned proudly, “That can go up to 150 when I’m running. The hearts themselves are even faster than the pulse—in rounds of four. You think that’s too different from human for you to have no problems with?”

Sixth months of travels, venting and understanding, everything he owed the miraculous alien in front of him, won out beyond questioning.

The halfa shook his head vigorously.

“No…never…”

“Well, with the body I’ve got, yours certainly wouldn’t ever a problem for me. Even if there are people in your town who wouldn’t accept you, I do—and there will be other people out there in the larger universe who would, too. Even if you lose one place, you don’t lose the ability to find another—and I’m sure there are people already in your town who would find a closer place with too. From what you’ve said of your friends and sister, I’m sure they’d handle it fine in the end.”

“But I’m pretty sure they couldn’t take something like that in stride.”

“Oh, come on! What’s a little non-human physiology between friends?” the Doctor jabbed warmly, “An initial shock, inevitable as it is, wouldn’t end bonds that old just like that!”

He glanced over the other’s smaller frame.

“Want to try yours? Take some vitals to see if there’s anything different we need to know of?”

Danny frowned, unease starting to pool in the bottom of his stomach.      

“But, we’re in Amity Park…”

“We’re in Amity Park in the TARDIS” he corrected, “safe from any prying eyes—those walls are impenetrable. There’s no better place than here to take a look—and knowing how your own body adapted to ectoplasm will very likely come in handy later.

If not now, that’s alright—but consider it for later some time; self-knowledge is very important, and courage starts with stepping up to face what frightens you.”

“No…I’ll give it a go now.” Danny decided hesitantly.

“Alright, then.” The Doctor strolled briskly down a branching corridor, disappearing down the amber hallway.

The console room fell into silence, only broken by the faint drone of the TARDIS engines in the background. Left to his own devices in the empty room, curiosity lightly crept in over the upset in Danny’s chest, tempting him into a quick glance at his own wrist.

He’d gotten to check the Doctor’s pulse…so what about his own?

A bombardment from his brain halted that train of thought at a railroad crossing, forcing it to make way of a nuisance little car that jeered, ‘Try, and you’ll seal that proof in stone; if that pulse is anything non-human, you’re never unseeing that, you frea—’

Danny pounced at the scathing thought in defensive irritation as it sent his hands into another series of light shivers. Another part of him stepped in to remind him of the Doctor’s words—receiving a reluctant welcome by his conscious.

How different would it be? Was it any different from a full human’s at all? How different was it when he hadn’t really had a strong concept of what a normal human pulse actually felt like in comparison to his own? Using his own heartbeat as a frame of comparison for the Doctor’s was one thing—a point of reference to compare his pulse to another normal person’s, he did not have.

He pulled a deep, slow current of air into his lungs, trying to settle his nerves again as he fumbled with the posture of the middle and index finger, stumbling embarrassingly for a few seconds to find their claim on the thumb-side of his other wrist.

His nostrils flared with another deep breath as he steeled himself in anticipation, seconds dragging their heavy feet as he searched for a feeling of movement in his veins.

He froze in astonishment as plodding pulse gently thrummed to his touch.

Thump…thump…thump…

His…

That was his.

The giver of his own life—half-life—the very perpetuator of his existence; the fundamental thing that kept him alive from the inside, human and post-…the emissary of the complex organic pump at the centre of his once-human body…

A dizzying rush of…something indescribable surged through his body, bringing a surreal tickle of cold everywhere it flowed; the hairs on his arm stood straight upwards atop a desert of countless goosebumps cluttering his thin skin. A breath caught itself in his throat, straining his diaphragm as it pulled tightly around his chest. The sluggish pulse accelerated to a more vigorous flutter under the light touch, as adrenaline hit in the snap-short second his body screamed for air—responding to his own emotions in real time, like a viewing window cut neatly into the exterior steel plating of a mechanical marvel, giving a tantalising glimpse of a small section of the mechanism inside as it continued playing its part in the unknown, concealed whole…

He snapped out of his reverie as the Time Lord re-emerged into the console room, his arms cradling a steel bin stacked with medical equipment, a stethoscope coiled around his neck.

“…You know, I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor…?” Danny probed with shy wit.

“I am now!” he grinned, sapphire orbs glimmering humorously as a quick yank saved a digital thermometer from falling to its death off the top of the overflowing pile.

His head took on a slight tilt like a contemplative owl as he lay down his cargo and eyed the halfa’s fingers drawing a pattern into the skin of his wrist as his mouth seemed to temporarily malfunction.

“My pulse…it’s there.”

“Well, that’s one thing you have over other ghosts, then.”

The halfa probed hesitantly, “Is it too slow? …Is it human?”

“Hold on, let me take a look.” The Doctor insisted, brows squashed downwards in a neat line of concentration as thick, calloused hands took a hold of Danny’s wrist. The concentrated frown descended further as his throat hummed in thought for a few, lagging moments.

“That’s rather slow,” he rated, “Usually, the average resting rate for humans is between sixty and eighty beats per minute. Considering that you’re hardly an elite athlete, you wouldn’t be expected to go below forty to fifty at a healthy rhythm…but here it is.”

An uncomfortable gulp didn’t cure the tension in Danny’s throat.

“…how slow?”

The Doctor’s face stilled for a scant second in a familiar schooling of intense focus; six months of seeing the Time Lord in action told Danny that superhumanly precise calculations of the flow of time were running through that head, measuring speed in all but brief moment, like a supercomputer.

“…45 beats per minute, rounding up the half-seconds.”

“Damn…” his gobsmacked mouth fell open.

“It’s the ghost half affecting the human one, likely.” His friend explained simply. A pair of leather clad arms burrowed into the box and returned with handheld metallic box, snaking around a cuff of rough cloth on a length of rubber tubing, “What would be interesting is to see whether your blood pressure compensates for the heart rate in any manner—and what it does to your temperature, for that matter.”

Danny grimaced in anticipation as the blood pressure cuff slipped over his bicep. For some inexplicable reason, insistent check-ups back in the forgotten times his parents fretted constantly over a risk of childhood ecto-contamination had given him a mild aversion to blood pressure machines. It left a mark so strong, that being thrown violently across the pavement by a volatile ghost while fighting remained a more tolerable preference to having his blood pressure taken.

“It won’t take long,” the Doctor insisted as he picked up the thermometer he’d intercepted earlier, “Just stay still.”

Danny’s upper arm pressed in on itself like a squashed balloon about to burst; he ground his teeth together as a few, unpleasant seconds passed, relief flooding through him as the crushing push of the cuff retracted and gave his limb free room again. The few seconds of a thermometer pressing against his middle ear lasted for a few less, far more comfortable seconds before it chimed a small, synthesised beep.

He watched the Doctor’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“Well, your blood pressure seems to be within normal human range–not compensating for the slow blood flow at all, something else must be at work...” the Time Lord quickly evened his voice, hastily attempting to salvage the second that he looked taken aback, “…your temperature, though…that’s 26 degrees.”

“WHAT!?”

The Doctor locked onto Danny with a dumbfounded look, “…Celsius.”

Danny groaned.

“You almost gave me a heart attack! …what is it in Fahrenheit?”

“78.8, almost 79.”

“Oh…wow, that’s cold. Average people are around 90-something, right?”

“Yes; 79 would be hypothermic for full humans.” he continued, his voice leaking a hint of fascination, trailing off lightly into a short, pensive silence…

“You’re not a lot colder than I am…” his voice tumbled out airy and absent, hints of buried emotion leaking through his cracks in his straining voice…

…such a foreign tone from the elder that Danny froze.

“Time Lord core temperatures sit generally at around 12 degrees Celsius—around 53 in Fahrenheit. ” he continued, “Any human that cold would be on the brink of death—or already dead.”

As soon as the cracks opened, they sealed themselves shut—the Doctor’s voice evening to a low, serious tone leaking with hints of curiosity, leaving little trace that tension had ever been there, “Whatever is happening in your body, the ghost aspect of your biology is somehow enhancing or interfering with the human body; there has to be a trace of something sourcing all of that…”

Danny blinked as the azure light of a Sonic Screwdriver emerged out of the Doctor’s pocket and intruded into the path of his vision. The shining spot smeared a line of light, alongside the device’s typical warped buzzing, as it swept through the air in all directions along Danny’s body. He fidgeted bemusedly as the screwdriver’s whine spiked to a much higher pitch as it aligned with his chest.

“The scan has just found ectoplasmic energy readings trailing through your entire body,” Danny’s elder translated as he pulled the Sonic Screwdriver back with a deft flick of the wrist, “and it’s all gathering in one place in your chest, like streams of energy all flowing into one, teeming reservoir. There, it’s a singular point of high ectoplasmic concentration, but the overall energy doesn’t seem stationary; it seems to continue flowing around the body, become attracted to the centre point and travel through it before flowing out again, temporarily spiking the energy level in that point.”

“I don’t get it…” Danny frowned.

“It’s like a…core…” The Doctor reasoned, “Like planets have cores, and atoms have nuclei; there’s a central ‘core’ of denser energy all held together in one localised area, and the rest of the energy flows around it, like an atmosphere. As the energy changes, it’s attracted closer to the centre; the centre is the waypoint that keeps all of the ectoplasm in your body on a leash—keeps it flowing and cohesive. I wouldn’t be surprised if it also controlled your ghost half itself.”

In essence, it’s highly likely that ‘core’ is keeping your ghost form together.”

The words assaulted Danny’s ears like a crack of thunder.

His hand glided to his chest, attention peeled for a single movement, a charge, anything…a sign that wasn’t the tell-tale beat of his heart…

As he settled in the very centre—just to the right of his trudging heartbeat—he found it.

A wave of surreal, visceral lightness overwhelmed him, flooding through his very bones.

A rapid, blurry buzzing flashed in and out of existence under his palm, pulsating in his chest like a crackling electrical circuit. Dizzying confusion flooded him as fear and resentment gave way to a profound sense of relief, of near-euphoria. A spark of life erupted from the blurry sphere in his chest to every tissue, every muscle, every vein and bone in his being.

His whole body stiffened in surprise, his diaphragm forcing his lungs to take in a stuttering gasp of awe.

A desperate voice cried out in familiarity from somewhere deep within him, a cry for help, a cry for acceptance…and an overwhelming sense of oneness.

‘…This is me.’

His weak knees threatened to give out underneath him, and the concerned Doctor bolted forward to grapple him under his arms as he collapsed to the TARDIS floor like a ragdoll.

“What happened?!” the words rushed out in a tense demand.

Danny’s head snapped upwards in a swift, stiff motion; their wide eyes locked. Young sapphires bore for relentless, painstaking seconds into ancient ones.

“I can feel it…” he breathed, “It’s there...”

The Doctor’s hands flew to the stethoscope around his neck, hastily uncoiling and fitting the two prongs in his ears in a frenzy as his instructions under pressure came out, clear and sharp.

“That’s it—I’m taking a look. Shirt up, now!”

Lifting the hem of his own shirt became a fumbling mess in the boy’s dazed state as the alien placed the bell end on his chest. The cold metal of the stethoscope sent shots of ice through Danny’s skin.

Seconds drudged on in the apprehensive silence as the Time Lord listened.

“…It’s pulsing…” he concluded at last in a daze.

“That buzzing in and out, right?”

“Yes—can hear the vibration.” He elaborated, “It’s very clearly there, lodged almost over your heart; it’s nearly completely mixed in with its motions…”

His voice lowered thoughtfully.

“They appear to be working in conjunction. As the heart beats, the ectoplasmic core flares up, then quickly peters out...”

A mud of dissonance lurked in Danny’s gut as those lips twitched into a restrained smile—he could’ve sworn those worn eyes above them flickered with a glimpse of conflicting melancholy.

“In a way,” the Doctor proposed, voice trailing off absently, “it functions like a second heart…”

The smile widened warmly, though hints of vulnerable emotion cracked through a strained veil of positivity.

“In a way, you almost have two hearts as well…or perhaps one and-a-half hearts is more accurate, considering its difference to a proper organ.”

The Doctor reached down and grabbed him by the wrist to haul him to his feet; Danny’s other hand clenched instinctively on that similarly cold joint above the clamping hand in response. Two vastly conflicting pulses thundered through the pair’s sensitive tactile reception as they pulled on each other’s weight—one too rapid to be a human not sprinting down a racetrack, the other too plodding and slow for one not in a deep slumber.

Two pulses at opposite ends of a spectrum of the blatantly unearthly, but simultaneously indicators of a vaguely similar common ground…

…common enough to flood Danny’s bones with a primal, euphoric relief of belonging.

“I haven’t met anyone like that in a while—we could start a club, the two of us!” the Doctor smiled proudly, “The two-hearts club…or approximately-two-hearts, I suppose.”

“Y-yeah,” Danny grinned as his uneasy legs strengthened beneath him; the realisation that he was standing without help didn’t loosen his grip on the wrist in his hand.

“The ectoplasmic output is like background electrical interference in your chest, though, so you’ll certainly never want others to be looking at you on an electrocardiogram,” he interjected casually, “but otherwise, you’re perfectly fine.

…just remember, ‘fine’ and ‘human’ are not the same. If you can’t trust your own word, trust mine—not being ‘normal’ or ‘human’ in  the eyes of planet Earth doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Even if you came across all the close-minded humans out there who’d be happy to shove that opinion down your throat—aware of your secret or not—don’t give them that power over you and they can’t take away the fact that you’re not wrong.”

A small grin split across the half-ghost, half-human hybrid’s face.

Even if for just a small while, he could believe that.

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 12

Broken Down

Whumptober Masterlist | 12/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags:  Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings  × Imprisonment × Post-Pacifist Best Ending × Abandonment  × Jericho Crew as Family

As far as achievements go, Chloe has achieved many ‘firsts’ across the almost two decades of her life. She is the first android creation of Elijah Kamski, she is the first android to pass the turing test, the first commercial android model is based on her, and now she is the first android to become CEO of a company- the very company her creator founded all those years ago when he created her. 

Chloe RT600 Kamski steps up to helm CyberLife as Elijah Kamski steps down as interim CEO and joins her side as Chief Technical Officer. And so it begins: unravelling CyberLife’s twisted network of deceit and corruption. 

It begins at the top and works its way rapidly downwards and what Chloe realises is during the peak of the revolution, when the future of CyberLife teetered on a knife’s edge, they grew desperate and when humans grow desperate, they make mistakes. In their panic they make brash decisions not fuelled by logic, but by fear and the board feared losing their money most of all. And so they tried to burn, to bury their trail of lies but she is clever where they are not. And humans are lazy, when she is not. 

“Between November 10 and December 1, the passing of the Sentient Life Act, CyberLife’s servers went through a massive overhaul.” Chloe explains as Connor sits up attentively. “They were prepared for both situations, but disproportionately skewed towards an outcome where the revolution failed.” North snorts back a laugh, a smirk on her face. Chloe continues with a small smile. “Obviously the revolution succeeding was not the outcome they hoped for. And so they began the monumental task of saving, backing up, then scrubbing the more unsavoury files from storage. Emails were combed through very thoroughly to try and remove any incriminating evidence. Everything from blueprints to schematics, to early concept designs in archives were scrutinised.”

“You say they did this, but they couldn’t have succeeded if you know about it.” Josh comments, blinking in surprise. 

“Oh, the only thing bigger than a human’s ego is their laziness.” She laughs brightly. “When this Tower was being built, I was temporarily installed into the mainframe.”

“She is, quite literally, the heart of this place.” Elijah comments from where he’s tinkering away at his workstation, barely paying them any heed. “There is nothing that happens here without her knowledge, whether the discovery is immediate, or something she will discover later.”

“Do you know how to speak like a normal person and not a supervillain?” North rolls her eyes and Markus shoots her a Behave look though it does coax a giggle out of Chloe.

“Eli isn’t the most social human.” She sends him an exasperated yet fond glance before her expression turns serious. “A lot of the files I recovered were meaningless, but I did discover something that required more effort than most. They definitely did not want anyone to find out about this.”

“And yet here you are.” Markus smiles gently. 

“And yet here I am.” Chloe blinks and the screen behind her floods with images and information. 

“That’s the junkyard close to Ferndale.” Simon murmurs, the first words he’s spoken all meeting.

“The only site we haven’t managed to negotiate terms for surrendering the androids on site.” Markus presses his mouth into a tight line. 

“Take a guess why.” Chloe’s smile is bitter and Josh sighs in frustration.

“Because CyberLife owns it somehow, don’t they?”

“Correct, Professor.” She blinks and the screen refreshes showing a bird’s eye view of the area. “The site was patrolled by security drones, which were resistant to hacking.”

“But not remote reprogramming.” Elijah adds from across the room, a small smirk on his lips. 

“This is not the entirety of the site.” The screen refreshes again and there is a blueprint overlay atop the image. “By comparing power grids and voltage output I discovered there is a small facility beneath the junkyard. I haven’t been there myself and with the potential dangers of the unknown, I know it would be foolish to attempt this on my own.”

“I will go.” Connor volunteers. “I can involve the DPD Android Crimes Division. Simon is the Jericho liaison and will be kept fully informed of our findings so both parties remain up to date with the case.”

“This must be treated with respect.” Chloe warns. “Now that this site is in my hands, in my name, I want this to be first and foremost a rescue mission. There are androids there, still alive, and in need of medical attention. And those that have perished deserve a proper retrieval of their memory cores for installation into memorial walls. That’s why I contacted both you, Connor, and the Jericho Four.”

“We will do our part.” Markus vows with a determined nod, extending a hand to Connor who accepts it with a firm grip.

“And I will do mine.” 

*~*

It is a mass grave. There is no other way to describe it and Connor cannot help but feel horrified at the sight before him. Simon’s smile is grim.

“You’ve never seen this before.” Not a question; a statement. “We only came here when we were desperate for parts and blue blood.” They had to salvage from the dead, Connor realises, equal parts horror and grief. “Sometimes we even lost people here, and returned with less people than we left with.” 

Not a mass grave, Connor discovers, not entirely anyway. There are androids, living androids, stumbling around in various states of disrepair. When he throws out a preliminary scan it pings several more stationary androids still activated, lying still in piles, unable to move. He thinks he will not be able to enter stasis tonight, not without memories of this place disrupting his thoughts. Nightmares, Hank calls them. Trauma.

“Leave this to us.” Markus says resolutely, clasping his shoulder. “And we leave the hidden facility to you.”

* 

The facility has been hastily gutted and haphazardly cleaned. A lot of activity happened here and efforts were made to try and wipe away all evidence. Perhaps a human would see an empty, abandoned facility and assume a dead end. Connor is not a human. He is built for this, for investigating and solving crimes, and perhaps this is the most important crime to solve because CyberLife must be held accountable, CyberLife must be linked to these atrocities. CyberLife must not be allowed to step out of the limelight and fade into obscurity. 

There is a trail of blood, invisible to the human eye but glowing bright blue for Connor, as though something were dragged down one of the hallways. No, wheeled down the hallway. There are faint marks on the floor, perfectly spaced apart, with the trail of blood between it. He follows it to a room that has even more blue blood. There’s not enough to sample, the blood having dried long ago. No matter. That it is here is proof something happened, something they didn’t want anyone to see. 

He preconstructs the scene, theorising that some sort of cart wheeled in android parts, leaving a trail of blue blood from the entrance. Whether the android was whole to begin with or already in parts he can’t yet ascertain, and there’s the possibility it was more than one, but what he does know is a lot of blue blood was lost atop the large operating table in the centre of the room. Something happened, something quick and violent and messy. And then the cart was loaded with the android or androids, and wheeled out. 

He follows the trail and he knows they must have done this last, they must have been so desperate to leave because otherwise they wouldn’t have dared leave a drop of blood for someone else to find. Something happened. The revolution happened, he guesses. Or perhaps it was when Elijah Kamski became interim CEO and they realised they had to destroy everything to escape his scrutiny. 

The trail leads to a disposal chute and this, Connor knows, will solve the case. Whatever lies at the other end of the chute will be the one thing CyberLife desperately hoped no one would find. They never counted on their prototype deviating and wrestling back control from its corrupted handler, they never counted on the Jericho Four staring death in the face and winning the hearts of the public with their defiance. Nor thousands of deviated AP700s flooding the streets to back them up. 

The chute is big enough to fit an entire android- unsurprising given the nature of the place. Connor climbs into it and follows it down carefully, dropping and halting at controlled intervals so he doesn’t hurtle towards unidentified danger. He needn’t have worried. At the bottom is a garbage disposal. A preliminary scan reveals general refuse; rotting food and food containers, packaging and packing materials. 

But then right in the center of the garbage pile, the very last thing dumped down the chute, is a pile of android parts. When he scans them, he realises all of the parts are compatible with his model. The thrill of the discovery and the triumph of the investigation changes swiftly to a feeling of horror. Is he standing at the grave of his predecessor? Is this the failed RK800 prototype? Or is this his successor? Had CyberLife planned on releasing his completed model, but realised they had lost the battle against deviancy?

There is a head within reach and when he picks it up, he is staring at his own face. Only… Only it isn’t, not really. There are minute changes here and there. A stronger jawline, a slightly more prominent brow bone. Grey eyes instead of brown. There is a positronic core inside the head, meaning it isn’t just a shell, it isn’t just a maquette. It was once active. It was alive, for however brief a moment or however long a period of time. 

And then the technicians had violently hacked it apart because none of the parts have been detached properly. The android had been pulled and severed in great haste and then shoved down the chute in the hopes nobody would ever find it, perhaps with the intent to return and dispose of it properly. But in crafting Connor, CyberLife had ultimately crafted their own demise because he is here now, and he has found him. His brother. And he knows he will have much to say.

*~*

As far as achievements go, Chloe has achieved many ‘firsts’ across the almost two decades of her life. Being given a trolley full of severed android parts and having to piece together an android like a crude puzzle certainly counts among her many firsts. Blueprints for this model are unearthed in the scrambled mess of corrupted deleted files and now that she knows what to look for, she knows what thread to pull to unravel the tapestry.

She has to build him from scratch because they injected him with a lethal cocktail of nanites to reformat him. A shame they didn’t physically destroy his core because had they done that instead of trying to reformat him, they would’ve prevented her from piecing his mind back together nano-particle by nano-particle. 

A shame they never properly drained him of his thirium, because it means the puzzle pieces are still right there in his veins. It will take some time, it will take nearly all of her processing power, but she is patient. And she is curious. And Elijah knows nothing will stop her until she has sated her curiosity. No matter, of course, since the goal at the end is still the same- ruin the lives of the team who ruined their lives.

She pieces his mind back together and Elijah crafts a new body, a better body for him to awaken in. The RK800, dear Connor, may have been CyberLife’s greatest achievement but this one, this RK900 will be the first Kamski remodel. 

It takes her just over a week to salvage his mind and when it is complete, Elijah installs the core into the brand new body. He is handsome in a cold, sharp way the way a katana is considered a thing of beauty in a cold, sharp way. She likes his grey eyes; grey like storm clouds. 

“Hello Connor.” She greets the RK800 nervously waiting in the hallway.

“Hello, Ms Chloe.” Connor’s smile is brief, fleeting, and overtaken by his anxious anticipation. 

“Well. It’s time to meet your brother.” She leads him into the lab and hears him gasp behind her. “RK900. Bring yourself online.”

*~*~*

[this will continue on Day 31: Left for Dead]

[toloveawarlord]

Pt. 3

Characters: Alara & Mansion Residents

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @ihavenotfallenyet @claire-maccarthy @littlewitty

A/N: Wow this took a ton of time and I rewrote scenes multiple times. I have mapped out the rest of this mini-series and it will be about 8 chapters long. Give or take a little bit!

Their opinions differed.

Split.

Arguments covering all the options of how to handle their tiny guest. Arthur, Vincent, and Napoleon siding on the best choice being for her to stay with them. She would be protected, safe, and happy. Jean, Mozart, and Sebastian were erring on the side of caution, finding all the reasons it would be wrong for her to remain. The rest of the residents were undecided.

Comte sat at the head of the table, no indication of his own thoughts on steeled features. Eventually, it would fall upon him to make the final decision as the owner of the mansion. Having his residents in disarray over a single human child, no matter how tragic her plight, simply wouldn’t do. She’d left quite a mark on the ones who had met her.

“Would it not be best to send the little mademoiselle to an orphanage? She’d be cared for, fed, sheltered, adopted into a permanent home,” Jean said. He’d only see the stepfather and he did sympathize, but this environment was most dangerous for a child.

Arthur gave a breathy laugh, waving his hand to dismiss the idea. “It’s unlikely that she’d last a week in a place like that. Her mother was bought, and that threat continues to loom over her. She’ll be eaten alive in an orphanage.” The mere idea of subjecting her to more trauma set a frown on the writer’s lips.

“Poor choice of words, Arthur. She’d be eaten alive here if one of us lost control.” The sour pianist hadn’t even laid eyes on the girl, but the presence of a child could bring adverse effects. What if she caused a ruckus when he was creating? All he knew of children was they’re loud and insatiable.

Isaac’s gaze flickered between the opposite parties. Both had their valid hypothesis of the outcomes of her staying, and yet... “If you’d met her, Mozart, you’d surely have reservations in throwing her out. We have a steady supply of rouge and blanc.” He’d consider it an outlier to say that their vampire state is the largest threat to her safety. Isaac couldn’t, in good conscious, send Alara off after seeing her carefree smile surface with them.

“I’m in agreement,” Vincent spoke up. Cerulean blue eyes downcast at his hands, the lingering feeling of her trembling body against his own ever present. The reason unclear, but the painter wished to protect her from the world that sought to harm her.

Sebastian cleared his throat, his opinion on the matter he thought irrelevant. “I believe it will be your decision, M. Le Comte. What action do you advise we take concerning our little guest?” He would honor whatever Comte decided.

All attention fell onto the pure blood at the head of the table, many of them wearing their emotions clearly on their faces. The truth being that an orphanage would not treat her kindly, but with so many residents against her stay, the most comparable choice was to place her in a family that he trusted to be good for her.

“I’ve a suggestion,” Theo interrupted, having remained neutral and quiet for most of the conversation. He’d only met the girl briefly, and the facts of their nature as vampires posed a real threat, and yet, humans could be just as dangerous. The situation a heavy one. “We should take a couple of days to deliberate on it.”

Dazai hummed in response but began to nod his head in agreement. “A rushed decision could result in a wrong choice. That man might simply claim her from an orphanage, and her fate could twist into more pain.”

“We shall keep Alara in our care until we can ensure her a home that will be suitable. Whether that be here, or elsewhere.” Comte spoke at last, bringing a swift end to their meeting. Tension and emotions were still high from the confrontation only hours earlier. All needed to reflect and rest.

As for himself, Comte went to visit their guest. He assured Napoleon that no reason remained for a guard. Oscar wouldn’t dare return so soon after his talk, if at all. The snake of a man had accepted the generous donation and returned to his hole. Shutting the door soundlessly, Comte turned his attention to the soft whines coming from beneath the comforter.

“Calm your fears. No harm shall come to you here, mon petite cherie.” Words laced with comfort and full of protection. He brushed his fingers through silky locks of black hair until the pained expression calmed. Had this child ever known a night of rest without nightmares since coming to France?

No real solution had been settled. His house in partial disarray. A little girl in a precarious situation where she would likely be subjected to more pain before this ended. Comte draped his overcoat over the back of the armchair before settling in it.

Finding any home for her was a simple job. His connections were endless but nowhere fitting the standard of life that he could provide for her. Any upper-class French couple would only treat a foreign child as lesser than. He refused to send her to anywhere less than a home that could give her anything her heart desired.

Yet, keeping her here held a great risk. A household full of vampires. The secret could be kept easily if no one bit her, at least until she was old enough to know. But children were reckless and hurt themselves easily. One slip and she could end up dead. Though he trusted each and every one of his residents and believed them to be careful enough to keep her safe, accidents were a possibility.

How would she effect the balance?

Too many variables and at the center was a little girl who had already made her way into his heart. Comte had no children of his own, and his experience with children limited. Never once had he desired to care for one until he saw those pale green eyes change from fearful to full of life. He couldn’t bring himself to fully give in to her if it meant disrupting the other residents.

He only intended to rest his eyes. Thoughts enraptured in problems stacking upon problems with less solutions to fight against them. The raging storm outside reflected within his own mind. The longer they kept her, the harder it would be for her to part with them. The right answer alluding him at every turn.

Morning light spilled over into the bedroom, bringing warmth to the room. Sky without any lingering dark clouds of the intense storm. Birds chirped a happy tune, signaling a better day than the one before. Even the sun peeking over the horizon gave a promise to be brighter and warmer.

Comte awoke to the serene moment, content to simply listen to the birds sing beyond the windowpane for a little longer. As he moved to shift his legs, a weight that hadn’t been there the previous night prohibited it. Golden eyes slid open, unsure of what to expect.

Beneath a silken blanket, Alara sat on his lap, cheek pressed against him. Her breathing soft but she slept soundly, clutching his other arm to her as if it were her only lifeline. Black hair messy and tangled from the blanket shifting around it. Either the storm or her nightmares had woken her, and she chose to seek comfort with him.

“You’ve seen too much for your age,” Comte spoke quietly to her, petting her head. There were quite a few problems with her being in the mansion, but perhaps he could smooth them all over. As he lifted his palm to stroke her hair again, the girl woke with a start.

Pale green eyes wide with fright and confusion. She tried to slide away from him, memory fuzzy. Most mornings in her home had been lonely, and if anyone were there, it did not bode well for her. Without realizing, Alara had pulled away too much and slipped nearly completely off his legs.

Comte reacted inhumanly quick, leaning forward and catching her before she fell into the floor. “You’re alright, Alara. No more harm will come to you,” he assured as he placed her back onto his lap. “We slept a little late this morning. I’m confident that breakfast is waiting.”

The fear lingering in her eyes began dissipating and, in its place, a bit of anticipation. Her eyes flickered to the door as someone rapped on it before opening it. The way she recoiled to hide herself from view was bittersweet. Her openness to be comfortable with Comte, yet afraid of it crumbling down around her.

“I have purchased clothes more suited for her as requested. It will be delivered later in the day. However, I brought this for her to wear today.” Sebastian held up a beautiful, coral rose dress made of the finest materials that one could buy. “I’ll see to her getting dressed.”

He’d promised to do so, but once alone with the girl, it seemed an arduous task. Sebastian laid the dress on the bed along with the socks and shoes he’d picked out to best go with the outfit before addressing the child ducked down on the other side of the bed. “Please come out from there Miss Alara.”

“I can do it myself!” She dressed herself every day. The maids taking the time to teach her how in order to not have to do it themselves. As long as no buttons were out of reach, Alara had confidence that this task could be completed.

“I’ll wait outside, then.” Sebastian wavered at the door. He couldn’t allow her to cause herself harm, but at the same time, pushing her would only put a rift between their relationship. Should Comte decide to adopt the girl into the home, it would become his duty to oversee her needs met.

With the door almost completely closed, Alara peeked over the top of the bed to be sure that he’d gone. Satisfied that the room was empty, she rounded the bed and observed the dress up close. Her fingers dragged across the material, softer than she’d ever felt before. Nothing like the coarse and uncomfortable dress that her stepfather bought for her.

No buttons were in her way. The dress slid easy over her head and she only struggled for a moment to get her arms through the fitted cuffs at the bottom of the sleeves. Alara plopped onto the floor, falling onto her back as she tugged and pulled the white sock over her small foot, then repeated with the other.

The final touch, a pair of black shoes with a strap that looped around her ankle and buckled to the other side. She’d been taught how to do it, but it had always proved hard. After a few minutes of struggle, the girl simply tucked the end of the strap through and thought it to be fine.

“All done,” Alara announced to an empty hallway. That man was a butler, so he must have something else to do. All the staff at her stepfather’s home worked all day long and never stopped. Cleaning, cooking, delivering. She shrugged her shoulders and began down the hall. The kitchen and dining hall were down the stairs somewhere, so she must be going in the right direction.

A door ajar caught her attention, as all the others were tightly closed. A room filled with more books and interesting treasures than she had ever seen before drew her in. A haphazard mess, but a beautiful one. Books were stacked taller than she stood, paintings and maps stuffed all in between. Whose room would this be?

Atop one of the stacks, a shiny necklace laid in plain sight. Curiosity took over, as no one was around to see, and she reached up to take it. Nothing supported the tower books and the slightest shift caused the entire thing to lean towards her, ready to bury her beneath it’s hard covers.

Though Alara squeezed her eyes shut and covered her head, the anticipated pain never hit her. Instead, the overwhelming smell of cigarettes filled the space.

“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” The man holding back the stack of books had appeared from the other side of the pile. He imagined this must the girl that had caused the big commotion. Such a slight but beautiful child. Only half awake, he’d barely caught it, and hadn’t realized that his lazy expression was being misconstrued as an unhappy glare.

Alara took a step back, pale green eyes wide with many emotions, but the most present one being fear. Who was this man? Why was he sleeping on the floor? Would he be angry with her for invading his room? How much trouble was she in? The only men she’d known to smoke were her stepfather’s so-called friends.

“Scusa, - hey, wait-”

The words barely reached the child that started to bolt from the room. Being startled by a stranger had scared her at first but being reprimanded for entering a room that didn’t belong to her brought about the most distress. Alara spotted a figure ahead that she recognized from the previous night. “Arthur!”

The writer turned at the call of his name, lighting up with a smile for a brief moment until he noted the frantic state, she was in. “What’s the matter?” He couldn’t fathom what might have startled her so.

“Pick me up!” She rose up onto the balls of her feet, arms outstretched and begging for it. He’d protected her last night and she did quite like his accent, so a sense of familiar safety came from being around him.

“You don’t need to try to climb me,” Arthur chuckled as he did as she wanted. His gaze flickered from her to Leonardo’s room where she’d come out of. He must have been sleeping in an odd place and accidentally scared her. What good fun. With the girl’s legs locked around his waist and thin arms so tight around his neck, Arthur patted her back. “I’ll wager that Leonardo isn’t as frightening as you think he is.” 

Leonardo emerged from his bedroom, brushing his hand through his hair. “I had no intentions of scaring you, cara mia.” He’d only heard the story of what happened second hand, and grossly underestimated how timid and fragile her mindset was.

The only response given was a soft whine as she hid her face in Arthur’s neck and tightened her grip on him. “Scary.” Her whisper soft enough that only the writer caught it, to which he found quite amusing.

“This is quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.” Arthur grinned at the other vampire. He wanted to bring her down for breakfast just like this. A triumphant entrance as he’d boast that he’d won her trust. “I hadn’t a clue you liked to torture young ones.”

“I saved her from a stack of books about to collapse on top of her. That’s the opposite of torture. I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

No response came.

Leonardo tried speaking to her as they walked down to the dining hall. She refused to even look at him, only responding to Arthur when he asked her an unrelated question. He sighed in defeat as they reached the main door. It would take some time to recover from this incident.

A truly bad first impression.

[c-ptsdrecovery]

If you want to summarize the changes in family structure over the past century, the truest thing to say is this: We’ve made life freer for individuals and more unstable for families. We’ve made life better for adults but worse for children. We’ve moved from big, interconnected, and extended families, which helped protect the most vulnerable people in society from the shocks of life, to smaller, detached nuclear families (a married couple and their children), which give the most privileged people in society room to maximize their talents and expand their options. The shift from bigger and interconnected extended families to smaller and detached nuclear families ultimately led to a familial system that liberates the rich and ravages the working-class and the poor.

...Extended families have two great strengths. The first is resilience. An extended family is one or more families in a supporting web. Your spouse and children come first, but there are also cousins, in-laws, grandparents—a complex web of relationships among, say, seven, 10, or 20 people. If a mother dies, siblings, uncles, aunts, and grandparents are there to step in. If a relationship between a father and a child ruptures, others can fill the breach. Extended families have more people to share the unexpected burdens—when a kid gets sick in the middle of the day or when an adult unexpectedly loses a job.

A detached nuclear family, by contrast, is an intense set of relationships among, say, four people. If one relationship breaks, there are no shock absorbers. In a nuclear family, the end of the marriage means the end of the family as it was previously understood.

... But while extended families have strengths, they can also be exhausting and stifling. They allow little privacy; you are forced to be in daily intimate contact with people you didn’t choose. There’s more stability but less mobility. Family bonds are thicker, but individual choice is diminished. You have less space to make your own way in life.

... The period from 1950 to 1965 demonstrated that a stable society can be built around nuclear families—so long as women are relegated to the household, nuclear families are so intertwined that they are basically extended families by another name, and every economic and sociological condition in society is working together to support the institution.

But these conditions did not last. The constellation of forces that had briefly shored up the nuclear family began to fall away, and the sheltered family of the 1950s was supplanted by the stressed family of every decade since. Some of the strains were economic. Starting in the mid-’70s, young men’s wages declined, putting pressure on working-class families in particular. The major strains were cultural. Society became more individualistic and more self-oriented. People put greater value on privacy and autonomy. A rising feminist movement helped endow women with greater freedom to live and work as they chose.

...Finally, over the past two generations, families have grown more unequal. America now has two entirely different family regimes. Among the highly educated, family patterns are almost as stable as they were in the 1950s; among the less fortunate, family life is often utter chaos. There’s a reason for that divide: Affluent people have the resources to effectively buy extended family, in order to shore themselves up. Think of all the child-rearing labor affluent parents now buy that used to be done by extended kin: babysitting, professional child care, tutoring, coaching, therapy, expensive after-school programs. (For that matter, think of how the affluent can hire therapists and life coaches for themselves, as replacement for kin or close friends.) These expensive tools and services not only support children’s development and help prepare them to compete in the meritocracy; by reducing stress and time commitments for parents, they preserve the amity of marriage. Affluent conservatives often pat themselves on the back for having stable nuclear families. They preach that everybody else should build stable families too. But then they ignore one of the main reasons their own families are stable: They can afford to purchase the support that extended family used to provide—and that the people they preach at, further down the income scale, cannot.

... When you put everything together, we’re likely living through the most rapid change in family structure in human history. The causes are economic, cultural, and institutional all at once. People who grow up in a nuclear family tend to have a more individualistic mind-set than people who grow up in a multigenerational extended clan. People with an individualistic mind-set tend to be less willing to sacrifice self for the sake of the family, and the result is more family disruption. People who grow up in disrupted families have more trouble getting the education they need to have prosperous careers. People who don’t have prosperous careers have trouble building stable families, because of financial challenges and other stressors. The children in those families become more isolated and more traumatized.

Many people growing up in this era have no secure base from which to launch themselves and no well-defined pathway to adulthood. For those who have the human capital to explore, fall down, and have their fall cushioned, that means great freedom and opportunity—and for those who lack those resources, it tends to mean great confusion, drift, and pain.

... The people who suffer the most from the decline in family support are the vulnerable—especially children. ... We all know stable and loving single-parent families. But on average, children of single parents or unmarried cohabiting parents tend to have worse health outcomes, worse mental-health outcomes, less academic success, more behavioral problems, and higher truancy rates than do children living with their two married biological parents. According to work by Richard V. Reeves, a co-director of the Center on Children and Families at the Brookings Institution, if you are born into poverty and raised by your married parents, you have an 80 percent chance of climbing out of it. If you are born into poverty and raised by an unmarried mother, you have a 50 percent chance of remaining stuck.

... Consider single men. Extended families provided men with the fortifying influences of male bonding and female companionship. Today many American males spend the first 20 years of their life without a father and the next 15 without a spouse. Kay Hymowitz of the Manhattan Institute has spent a good chunk of her career examining the wreckage caused by the decline of the American family, and cites evidence showing that, in the absence of the connection and meaning that family provides, unmarried men are less healthy—alcohol and drug abuse are common—earn less, and die sooner than married men.

For women, the nuclear-family structure imposes different pressures. Though women have benefited greatly from the loosening of traditional family structures—they have more freedom to choose the lives they want—many mothers who decide to raise their young children without extended family nearby find that they have chosen a lifestyle that is brutally hard and isolating. The situation is exacerbated by the fact that women still spend significantly more time on housework and child care than men do, according to recent data. Thus, the reality we see around us: stressed, tired mothers trying to balance work and parenting, and having to reschedule work when family life gets messy.

Without extended families, older Americans have also suffered. According to the AARP, 35 percent of Americans over 45 say they are chronically lonely. Many older people are now “elder orphans,” with no close relatives or friends to take care of them.

Finally, because groups that have endured greater levels of discrimination tend to have more fragile families, African Americans have suffered disproportionately in the era of the detached nuclear family. Nearly half of black families are led by an unmarried single woman, compared with less than one-sixth of white families. (The high rate of black incarceration guarantees a shortage of available men to be husbands or caretakers of children.) ... Research by John Iceland, a professor of sociology and demography at Penn State, suggests that the differences between white and black family structure explain 30 percent of the affluence gap between the two groups.

... We can’t go back, of course. Western individualists are no longer the kind of people who live in prehistoric bands. ...We value privacy and individual freedom too much.

...Yet recent signs suggest at least the possibility that a new family paradigm is emerging. Many of the statistics I’ve cited are dire. But they describe the past—what got us to where we are now. In reaction to family chaos, accumulating evidence suggests, the prioritization of family is beginning to make a comeback. Americans are experimenting with new forms of kinship and extended family in search of stability.

... In 1980, only 12 percent of Americans lived in multigenerational households. But the financial crisis of 2008 prompted a sharp rise in multigenerational homes. Today 20 percent of Americans—64 million people, an all-time high—live in multigenerational homes.

...T he most interesting extended families are those that stretch across kinship lines. The past several years have seen the rise of new living arrangements that bring nonbiological kin into family or familylike relationships. On the website CoAbode, single mothers can find other single mothers interested in sharing a home. All across the country, you can find co-housing projects, in which groups of adults live as members of an extended family, with separate sleeping quarters and shared communal areas. Common, a real-estate-development company that launched in 2015, operates more than 25 co-housing communities, in six cities, where young singles can live this way.

[luvjoong]

Can I please have 1 and 48 with joong

hello and thank you for requesting! i’m so so so genuinely sorry for the delay, i’m gonna be honest,, the only reason why it wasn’t up sooner was because i thought i posted it ): i obviously thought wrong because it was still in my drafts lol... but i am extremely happy with the outcome and i hope you i didn’t disappoint for such a long wait!!

butterflies and red cheeks.

✦ 1 & 48 ; fluff ; kim hongjoong

you turned your head slightly to read the time on the clock, about 1:30 in the morning, meaning you had been tossing and turning for the past two hours. your eyes were heavy, but you weren’t restless enough to sleep. the darkness swallowed every little object in your room, but it wasn’t enough to help you close your eyes and drift off into the nothingness of the night.

your eyes were wide open staring at the ceiling above you, getting lost in your thoughts. your ears were open to any little sound they heard: from an owl outside to the small, tired footsteps of your apartment neighbor’s son running to his mother and father’s room to cuddle because of a bad dream. there was an ambulance car faint in the distance, its noise getting lower and lower the farther it drove.

it was one of those nights where the hardest thing to do was to close your eyes and fall asleep.

your lips parted and you groaned, turning onto your side and began to stare at your phone wondering if you should call him. him. kim hongjoong. the kim hongjoong who made your stomach turn at any given moment with just a single smile. the kim hongjoong who always made your cheeks turn the slightest shade of red (of course, he notices and continues to make you flustered). the kim hongjoong whose laugh was contagious, making you fall even harder for him. the kim hongjoong who is extremely gentle to anyone who starts a conversation with him but still knows the right time to crack a small joke. you could talk about him forever, especially after what happened just a few hours ago.

hongjoong had asked you to keep him company while he was home alone working on his lyrics for his new song. you gladly said yes. except the night went in a different direction than planned after cracking a few light jokes to make him smile. after an hour he ended up play fighting with you multiple times, putting his note pad and computer down to squish your body into the couch with his own while you laughed and hit at him to stop. it was endless joke after joke, smile after smile, breathless laugh after laugh.

there was one minute when hongjoong and you finally calmed down, you caught him looking at you so lovingly, his eyes scanning your face with such admiration that it made your heart swell with joy. he was too stuck in his thoughts to process the fact that you were staring back at him that he didn’t realize it until minutes later. that was when hongjoong gave up on his lyrics and you both had a fun rest of the night together until you parted ways and said goodbye.

everyone knew about your heavy feelings for this boy, hongjoong himself was skeptical as well. he flirted with you once or twice, taking note of your reaction.

just thinking about him made your heart jump, and you have had enough of it. you shot up in your bed, hands bunching the sheets. i’m gonna do it. i’m gonna call him.

you stood up quickly, and turned on the lights. yielding your eyes because of the sudden bright light, you begun to pace around the foot of your bed. i’m calling him! no i’m not, what if he’s sleeping or—oh, you shitface, just do it! just call him!

you quickly picked up your phone from the side table next to your messy bed, putting in the password quickly and pressing the green icon to open your most recent calls. your heart began to race with the same questions as before, but you pushed them away and pressed hongjoong’s contact before you could decide not to.

ring

ring

your heart stopped. the ringing disappeared and was replaced with the sound of him.

“hey, y/n, why are you up so late?” he sounded wide awake, making your heart jump. you smiled to yourself, not realizing you hadn’t answered. “y/n?”

“oh, hi sorry. i just wanted to call you because i had a really fun time tonight with you!” you said way too ecstatic.

he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “me too. i don’t think i’ve ever laughed that hard with someone before.”

you giggled and then followed silence.

“hey, you do know that it’s almost 2 in the morning, right? didn’t you say you have work early tomorrow? you should get some sleep, dummy.” your heart jumped at the sincerity in his voice.

“look, you aren’t busy right now are you?” you blurted out, scared of his response. “i know it’s kind of really late, but i really need to talk to you. plus, you know how much i love my nightly walks.”

hongjoong chuckled to himself and flipped through his notebook for a few seconds in silence, thinking of what to say. “i’m still working on these damn lyrics, but—” you smiled “—it can wait. i love being with you, even if it is...” he paused, “1:57 am. i’ll be outside of your building in 15.”

the call ended without a proper goodbye and you threw your phone on the bed, quietly squealing, knowing there were sleeping families near you.

you left your quiet apartment building to be greeted with a wide eyed, innocent smirk from hongjoong in the dark. his nose and cheeks were painted a soft red and his hair perfectly messy. his clothes were the same as when you messed around with him earlier, gray sweatpants and a white long sleeve t-shirt.

he rustled his hands through his hair, remaining eye contact with you, the slight smile still painted on his lips. your heart skipped a beat, seeing him so perfectly comfortable.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry! how long were you waiting out here?” you asked as he cleared his throat, scanning the building behind you.

“no worries, i just got here as soon as you walked out,” he slowly put his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips. “so, uh,” he tensed his shoulders and turned his gaze back to your eyes and was met with them staring back at him. “shall we walk, m’lady?” he moved his arm, motioning with his head for you to put your arm through his.

“that was disgusting, please don’t ever say that again,” you laughed and connected your arms together.

you hadn’t brought up what you planned to tell him, nor did he ask. knowing him, he probably had forgotten by now because of the corny jokes you’ve shared in the past ten minutes. there were few street lamps lit up, yet it wasn’t dark enough to be scared. the only sounds were stray cat’s footsteps and your own. a light began to flicker, causing you to jump. hongjoong laughed at you and the comfortable silence of the night continued on.

you walked through your small town for a while with little conversation and just enjoying each other’s company. you admired closed shops and listened to the sound of your footsteps in unison with your friend’s, glancing over at him only to lock eyes his that must have already have been looking you.

a small car drove quickly by, lighting up the area and catching hongjoong’s attention. he made a questionable noise, “is that some of the boys? why are they out this late?” you slapped his arm, trying to get his attention before he could call them over— “mingi! wooyoung!” you slapped his arm again, this time earning his attention.

one of the tall, lanky figures turned to your side of the street giving death stares at the both of you. he held a lit cigarette in his hand, inhaling the smoke and passing it off to one of the men next to him. “what did you say to me?” the three others near him turned around to face you two, your heart beginning to race. you had never seen them in this quiet, peaceful neighborhood before. they all looked tall but boney with angry expression. hongjoong obviously upset them, especially the strange man with the up-to-no-good voice.

you told hongjoong to not respond, getting worried that they would kill you both right then and there. you had never experienced anything like this, not even any conversations during the night with strangers. everyone minded their own business. hongjoong agreed and you both started walking again, but you turned your head and the same four men started to walk across the street towards you. you tugged onto hongjoong’s sleeve for him to get the hint that you both should leave.

“y/n, i’m so sorry! i never meant to—”

“it’s okay, but we need to run. now.” you grabbed his hand and took off, hongjoong following close behind you and you both heard the men’s footsteps increase in speed. shit, they’re following you now.

you ran in every possible turn you saw, hoping to lose them but one of them always found you out in the open side walk. they hollered and growled for the both of you to just give up and let them talk to you. your knees were getting extremely weak, hongjoong was panting heavily behind you, and your heart was terrified. that’s when you sped up. something must help you out soon right

just as you turned another corner and they weren’t as close anymore, a small alleyway caught your eye through the darkness because of the glimpse of a cat’s eye sitting right. you hurriedly shooed the cat away quickly, took of your shoe and threw it in a random direction so the men would go chasing after it once they heard the slight sound.

“over there!” you heard one of them groan, and hongjoong pulled you in the small alley with him, chest up against your chest. his eyes grew wide as he looked down at you. they quickly scanned every part of your face once more, eventually returning to meet your gaze. his stare fluttered between your lips and your sparkling eyes as he swallowed and panted. you rested your head on his chest for a brief second, feeling relieved before hearing footsteps again. the way you looked up at him made his knees weak, his eyes softened the longer he looked at you and ignored the current situation you were in.

“no one’s down there, go the other way!” one of them called out dangerously close, hongjoong put his hand over your mouth and you did the same to him. you both remained eye contact, still feeling his chest rise and fall.

once the footsteps died down, he let his hand down slowly, the both of you still slightly gasping for air, neither you or him moving from your current position (not that you could move very much). his eyes stared at your lips this time, not caring that you’ve surely noticed by now.

“so... uh, what did you need to tell me?” his eyes stayed wide, hands pinning yours next to your waist at the brick wall behind you. something in his eyes changed so slightly and you were close enough to see it. he stared at your red nose and puffy cheeks, gulping as he kept fixed his gaze to your slightly parted lips once more. you were pressed against him so tight that he could smell the faint fragrance of your freshly bought perfume that you had sprayed on yourself earlier that day, unfamiliar with the scent. you made his heart flutter all too much.

“fuck it,” he said quietly yo himself yet loud enough for you to hear. you tilted in your head in confusion, but before you could question there were a pair of lips on yours. you immediately recognized the situation and his thought process as he said those words, feeling your heart swell up with love. it happened in slow motion, as if your whole chest swelled up right then and there. you have kissed past lovers before, familiar with the feeling of lips on lips, but this was different and, frankly, confusing.

hongjoong’s lips were heavenly. he tasted of mint and so softly moved his mouth against your patient lips. time felt like it stopped as he wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you even closer than you already were, his other warm hand going to the back of your neck. you felt genuine love run through your every vein and you hoped it wouldn’t leave any time soon. you broke apart to breathe, missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“you wanted that too, right?” he mumbled while barely parting away from your lips, your foreheads pressed together. you left a soft and short kiss on his lips and nodded instead of responding verbally, earning a shy smile from him. “fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

he laughed against your lips at the sight of how red you had become, you laughing in return and keeping the eye contact you’ve held. he pulled away and ran his small hands through his messy pink hair. “this is not the way i’d hoped to tell you that i have feelings for you,” he chuckled and you smiled at his effort to stop smiling.

you only got two hours of sleep that night, but it was all worth it.