#the tub as it stands is a sign of how ill prepared he is a tub that works is a sign he's a proper maniac

[treesofgreen]

Im having a similiar problem with the bathtub as i had in the witcher fandom. Where people just dunk fully gross dirty characters in there to wash like that does anything but spread the filth around lol even with modern baths! You dont do that when you're actually dirty! That's what showers are for!! It's worse without plumbing bc multiple people had to heat up that water by bucket and carry it to the tub why would you ruin it with blood/come/whatever... use all that time, a rag, and a couple buckets to wash first then relax in the bathwater when you're clean.

It's sort of a real life squick for me too so it fully breaks immersion, i have to skip paragraphs if it's smut after "washing" lol

Also like. That bathtub reads as another way Stede is completely unprepared for what life on the sea is actually like, just like the library where all the books fall down if the ship moves and the open fireplace right next to it. You can have these things on a ship but they need to be adapted. The amount of work and waste of resources (water, space on a ship, whatever means they use to heat it, the time and effort it'd take to fill and empty it) using the bathtub would take is just not worth 15 min of him soaking before it cools down??? Bathing before modern plumbing was a whole production this is why the rest of the crew gets a bucket to sit in.

Whenever I get stuck in some logical/practical issue like this with ofmd I feel like Izzy's No Fun Allowed Spirit is possessing me

This vent is a thing of beauty, my dear anon. You are 100% correct.

I can cheerfully accept and embrace all manner of anachronisms when it comes to this show but I cannot believe that there is a usable tub on the ship (and it must be usable, because Oluwande suggests it to Jim as a real possibility) without there being a magical plumbing and drainage system of some kind.

So I am updating my previous headcanon - Stede didn't invent indoor plumbing, Stede gave a grant to his local Gyro Gearloose to come up with a way for him (and his family, and the crew if they wanted) to fully and properly rich person bathe because it's very important to him. So there is a just-crazy-enough-to-work prototype system that exists nowhere else in the world on the Revenge. A separate water tank that runs to Stede's bathroom and can start heating with a signal. I didn't see a faucet in the tub but I cannot stress enough how much I do not care. There is a faucet and a drain that leads to the ocean for the wastewater so that poor Roach doesn't have to unfill the bathtub too.

Since we've gone this far, let's throw in a removable shower type attachment so you don't have to soak in your own filth. Since his family didn't come Stede is willing to let the crew use his amenities as long as they're not disturbing him. No one but Lucius has been interested and everyone else prefers to wash with a bucket in the en suite or out on the deck because this is too weird (most of them would eventually come around, I think. Izzy would love to try it but won't admit it).

That leaves us with the enormous amount of water needed for this kind of bathing, so what the hell - the special water tank also desalinates sea water. Maybe it heats it to a pleasant temperature as a byproduct of the desalination. Maybe it's enchanted. Who knows. If Oluwande can wear crocs and Buttons can speak bird and Stede can read a book that won't be published for another 100+ years, we can have this. We need this. I read a fic where Stede washed Izzy's dirty hair and then they fucked in the tub and then they just dried off and went to bed! No! I read a fic where Stede washed Ed clean of blood and grime and then they fucked in the tub and then they just dried off and went to bed! No! No!

Roach doesn't deserve to have to deal with this and neither do we.

[boxofbadaddiction]

Migraines

Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested: Reader is ill, Fred helps her through it.

Warnings: Sickness?

The World were spinning and no matter how tightly she shut her eyes or gripped at the blankets below her body y/n could not get it to stop - or even slow down.

Every small sound echoed like a drum beating in her ears relentlessly. The cold, damp wash cloth strewn across her eyes helped dull some of the pain surging through her head but sadly not enough to bring any true relief or comfort.

She could feel as her stomach churned, throat coating itself in warning of the ever present threat she were going to be sick, and so dared not move a muscle. A torment really when all she wanted were to go run a long hot bath to soak her troubles away. Tears fell down her face as the pain seemed all too much to bear.

Migraines, y/n was sure, were an invention from the Devil himself. Unfortunate, she thought, as she were particularly susceptible.

When she woke in the morning with the all too familiar warning signs she'd promptly owled her work informing them she were unable to come in, and did the only thing she could. Prepare.

Drawing her bedrooms curtains, placing many washers in the freezer, leaving a glass of water on her night stand and readying a bucket by her bedside - which she sincerely hoped she would not have to use.

She'd taken a potion which were meant to bring relief to Migraines and other such things but it had little effect. What good is magic if they can't make a decent cure for such basic ailments as a headache?

Her breathing became laboured as more tears fell down her cheeks - that's when she heard it. The unmistakable jingle of keys and the opening of the front door to her flat, followed by a faint knock. No need to ask who it were as only one other person had their own key.

"Y/n?" Freds voice called hesitantly, the doors hinges squealing as it closed behind him. She could hear his footsteps as he approached her bedroom, "Darling?" His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him.

Laying with her knees in the air, one hand gripped the bed as the other clung to her stomach, face covered mostly by the cloth.

Sensing his presence in the room the hand across her body waved once sadly. It were nearly comical Fred thought, if not for the way she bit her lip so harshly in pain it were a miracle she hadn't drawn blood.

Fred had called by y/ns work for lunch, as he had so many times before, when her co-workers told him she were unwell. He wasted no time in getting to her flat to take care of her.

"Oh Sweetheart..." he stepped into the room, sitting on the beds edge and placing a hand to her knee. "Do you need anything? How can I help?" His eyes scanned the room, mentally running through his own check-list to make sure she had everything she may need.

Y/n rocked her head as if to say 'no', scrunching her eyes immediately in regret, the motion made her overly nauseous. Her hand came to hang over the bed blindly in search for the bucket.

"What is it?" He watched her hand closely as she pointed down, luckily realisation struck fast. He swiftly reached for the pail - offering it to her. Just in time as she hastily ripped the washer from her face and threw herself onto her side to be sick.

With one hand Fred held the bucket steady for her as his other rubbed circles on her lower back. He grimaced at the sight - he hated seeing her sick or in pain.

A few moments passed before y/n managed to compose herself. "It hurts" she mumbled, voice raspy and laced with pain as she cried. "I know, baby." He placed a kiss to the top of her head as he continued, "how 'bout a bath? That always helps." Y/n nodded smally in response.

"Alright, I'll go get the water running. Just try and stay quiet, love, it'll be okay soon."

Y/n didn't trust her stomach to roll back as he left and so she remained propped up on her elbow. Still clutching the bucket tightly as the sound of running water met her ears.

Returning shortly after Fred cautiously helped her from the bed and toward the bathroom. The movement alone were excruciating and y/n found herself closing her eyes tighter with every step. Feeling the steam hit her face she chanced a peak at the room before her; the lights were off and curtains closed which she were thankful for but he'd lit a few candles - she relished in the comfort which their scent brought her. Fred helped her strip before lowering her slowly into the bathtub. Feeling a great deal better the second her body slowly sank into the water.

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest as Fred gently poured handfuls of water down her back, tenderly working away the knots in her muscles as he did from his place beside the tub, placing the occasional kiss to her neck and shoulder.

Soft moans escaped y/ns throat at the calming sensation that washed over her, wishing if only the throbbing in her head would subside.

Nuzzling his nose against her neck he whispered sweetly "Lay back" as the last knot left her shoulders. She complied happily, sinking her body fully beneath the water as her head rest on the cold tubs edge. Fred continued to work through her body, massaging her neck, arms and feet till she all but melted under his touch.

"Better?" He mumbled against her hair placing a kiss to her cheek. "So much" y/n responded quietly.

They stayed there until Fred were sure y/n were well enough to move - when she were but seconds from falling asleep he decided to take the lead. Pulling her from the water and wrapping her in a towel.

Y/n crawled onto the bed not bothering about a change of clothes, rather to sleep in the towel. Fred climbed in after her, cuddling her into his chest.

"You should go - I'm sure George must be needing you."

"I'm not leaving you. Sure he'll manage just fine without me." He pulled her tighter against his body kissing her forehead as his hand ran back and forth along her arm. "Get some sleep, love."

"I love you, Freddie."

"I love you too."

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.8

a/n: so nothing much happens here but in a way im just establishing how reader and her fam interact :)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, filler because author-chan needs a break xD

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased​​ @infinite-universe-love​​ @dirtypride​ @blackymomo03​ @azzie​

Inside his car, you were buckled in the front seat as he took the wheel. It felt weird seeing him drive his own vehicle. Though he looked good in it, if you were to be honest.

Your thoughts ran to the precinct. The cab which the chief took was heading that way. Recalling how he held on to his anger and chose to leave with silence was the worst thing that could ever happen. More so for tomorrow. Tadrona Manor was an hour’s drive from the city.

Playing with the zippers on your bag, you began to think of a plan. One that would be so unexpected that even the chief wouldn’t dare think of it as staged. Speaking of plans, you had to check your schedule again. How did he change your meetings and interviews? You had a feeling that the remaining days would be cramped.

When he finally reached the drop-off area, you adjusted your position so you could look at him. His eyes focused on what’s ahead of him.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“Just get down and cleanse yourself.”

Bowing your head, you exited the vehicle and watched as he sped away from the building.

Now inside your unit, you decided to skip the tub and just scrub. Showering with cold waters, you felt energized and much better than before. Shorter than intended to be, you were now wearing a loose shirt and sweatpants. Taking your laptop, you set up work in the living room.

Once everything was good to go, you immediately checked your schedule. Tomorrow was only half of your working hours. The rest of the days were just as expected. With only 30 minutes for lunch, you were bombarded with an adjustment of meetings and interviews. All with barely enough interval times.

Going to your emails, you received a new one from the chief. Opening it, you cursed every single word you knew of. Attached to the email were 4 new cases. Reviewing them, you estimated it would make things with Overhaul a little more tricky. Going back to your schedule, you were thankful that he had the brain to include the necessary meetings already.

Heading to your room, you took 3 cases from your personal files and flopped back to the sofa. If the chief was playing dirty, then you had no choice but to act as well. Dialing a number, all it took was one ring and you were greeted right away.

“What can I do, (N/N)?” The voice over the phone asked.

“I need a favor, Takashi-kun.” You reached for the folders and scanned which of the three were appropriate for him. Deciding on a minor case, you opened the folder and skimmed on the papers. Making sure that he was the right one for the case. “I need you to do a case for me. It’s practically 70% solved at this point.”

“It would be a pleasure, (N/N).” Takashi replied. His voice telling you he was smirking at the request handed to him. “Is the chief overloading you with work?”

“Yeah.” Clicking your tongue, you reached for the next folder. One that revolved around aggravated assault. “I also have one for Nomura. He’s there at home right?”

“He’s listening to the conversation as we speak.”

“Good evening, (Y/N)-chan! I’ll give my damn best~” He was always a cheerful one.

“Is that all?” Takashi asked.

“There’s one more. For Kaien, I need him to gather information on one that involves perjury. It’s a bit complicated but I know he can do it.”

Takashi, Nomura, and Kaien. Those three men were your equivalent of Overhaul’s Eight Precepts of Death. Your father had entrusted them to look after you when you were still a toddler. As you grew up, you managed to build a solid bond with them. They always treated you as a princess and even till now, if it means making you happy, they would gladly assist you.

Of course you preferred not to take advantage of their skills. It was only in times like these where you would reach out to your roots for… assistance. They did, however, follow a set of rules. No killing, no fighting unless absolutely necessary, and that their safety is vital.

“Will you drop it off here at the estate or shall we pick it up?”

“I’ll drop it off tomorrow in the morning.” The butterflies in your tummy did a somersault at the thought of going home. “It has been quite some time after all~”

After saying your goodbye’s, you bagged the 3 files and began working on the new cases assigned to you.

Early the next day, you found yourself parking your car inside the Abegawa Tenchu Kai estate. It wasn’t as big as the Shie Hassaikai’s but it was home. The minute you stepped into the hallway, Takashi, Nomura, and Kaien practically glided on the floor just to greet you. They were wearing yukata, so today must be their day off.

“Where’s my lovely daughter?” You heard his voice coming down the stairs. A toothy grin formed on your face when you saw your father. Opening his arms, you hopped your way into his arms into a loving embrace. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet~ What’s to eat?” You followed him to the dining area.

“Nomura cooked your favorites.” He said as he ruffled your hair. “Takashi took the liberty of buying your favorite fruit as well.”

More than excited to eat Nomura’s food, you practically dove to your seat once you saw the table filled with amazing food prepared just for you. Digging in, you savored the taste and the warmth of your home.

Half way through the meal, you handed the files to their assigned yakuza. Your father simply shook his head at your actions. He didn’t mind that you were using them to your advantage. He thought it amusing that you somehow managed to use your roots as a way of assisting you in your cases.

“How’s work, daughter?” He asked after he sipped his coffee.

“It’s pretty interesting.” You nodded. Trying to suppress the giddy sensation your tummy felt. “I’ve been assigned a case for the Fukuo Kai.”

“The chief’s still using your background as leverage?” Nomura inquired. He never fully trusted that guy the moment you first talked about him.

“Yeah…” You groaned. “I also have to work with the Shie Hassaikai for this one.”

“Shie Hassaikai, huh?” Your father repeated. “Are they treating you well?”

“He is. For the most part. Overhaul is relatively stable when I’m with him.”

“THE Overhaul?” Takashi confirmed.

“Yes. That Overhaul. I have to admit. He is intimidating. Everything you’ve heard about him might just be true.” You felt your cheeks burning at the thought of him. Not wanting them to ask questions, you took your coffee and hid your face. But that was a little too slow on your part.

“You’ve taken an interest in him.” It wasn’t a question but your father could sense things. “Has Gei seen him?”

“Once. He went to my apartment to hand over information. Gei happened to be there as well.”

“I’ve met him once.” He recalled. His index and thumb holding onto his chin. “His loyalty to the yakuza is very strong. He followed the boss as if his life depended on it. Still, he had his mask on. That was a long time ago though. He went by a different name.”

“As much as I’d like to know what his name is…” You put your mug down and began to play with the half eaten bacon. “I think it’s safer if you don’t mention it. For his sake.”

The tenderness in your voice as you spoke about him alarmed your father. There was no hiding it from him. In his eyes, he could see the subtle signs of infatuation. Observing your mannerisms as you talked about the young yakuza boss, you were still unaware that it’s slowly growing. The feelings and future complications should you pursue him.

To say that it worried him was an understatement. He knew what Overhaul was doing. He had, after all, been acquaintances with the former boss. The sudden disappearance was all too timingly when word went out that he took his place.

Still, he trusted you and your judgement. You were one of the top ranking officers and managed to keep your family ties hidden from the media. The way of the yakuza had been molded into you and how you managed to prosper with it only swelled his pride.

With breakfast done and the cases handed over, he was now standing outside your car. Leaning on your door as you strapped yourself in. The engine revved as you were preparing to leave for work. The childish smile on you was something he always strived to protect. Closing your door, he watched as you exited the estate.

Three men walked up to him. Faces filled with uncertainty.

“It’s alright, you three.” Your father assured them. “I do not fully trust him but I can only hope that the person she’s seeing is Chisaki-kun and not Overhaul. Come now. I think we all need to light up some incense.”

Inside the car, you clenched on the steering wheel. The sense of safety gone the minute your precinct was in sight. Looking at the parked cars, you were more than relieved when you saw his car wasn’t in its designated spot. Scanning the area once you stopped your engine, you deemed it safe and basically ran all the way to the entrance.

Now in the protection of your cubicle, you turned your desktop and waited for it to boot. When it did, you scanned your emails and began to count the hours.

4 more hours before you’d be sent home.

9 more hours till you would have to sit face to face with that wretched boss of yours.

Beginning your day’s work, you mentally prepared for what was to come next.

-----

so yeah nothing much really happens here~ do you guys have any questions? feel free to comment and ill gladly answer them :) take care and i hope you guys like this chapter <3

[ragewerthers]

Just Resting My Eyes

Summary:  When Ignis starts to run himself a little ragged, his friends decide to step in and make sure he looks after himself. And they will turn King and Country against him if they have to!

A/n: Hello there! This is another wonderful F3S prompto from my friend @bgn846​ that she gave me all the way back in April!!! I can't believe how long it's taken me to write it, but I have been wanting to get this all polished up and ready for MONTHS!

The prompt was: "Stolen naps and getting discovered. Falling asleep in places like the office, the backseat of the car, the tub, the kitchen table. Etc. Who finds who and what do they do? Tease, kiss, hug, carry to someplace comfier?"

I hope that you enjoy it, my friend!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599638

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 2164

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

“Do you think he’s been tranquilized?!”

“There’s no way someone could tranquilize Iggy, Prom.  Er… right, Gladio?”

“No.  Though he is lookin’ a little pale.”

The soft touch of someone’s warm hand against his brow mixed with the voices slowly started to bring Ignis out of his stupor.

Where was he?

Why was it so dark?

Why did his cheek and back ache like they were?

Slowly, rational thought began to come back to the forefront of the Adviser’s mind.

The last thing he remembered doing was coming back from a four hour meeting with some of the Council.  It was a meeting in preparation of another meeting and if that wasn’t the most tedious thing, he had to write up the minutes of the meeting about a meeting.

Apparently, while in the process of doing so he had managed to nod off at his desk, his cheek firmly pressed into the keys of his laptop and his back hunched over rather uncomfortable.

“M’fine…,” he grumbled, voice hoarse as he tiredly tried to swat at the hand on his forehead, regardless of how nice it felt.

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of Niflheim,” Gladio countered, though Ignis could hear the smirk in his voice.

Blinking one tired eye open he was proven right about that smirk, though perhaps it was a trick of the light that made him see a bit of worry in those amber eyes as well.

Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, Ignis sat up from his ill timed nap place, his back crackling in ways that no 19 year olds back should.

“Oh my god, grandpa, what is happening to you?” he heard Noct ask as he finally got himself situated, only to hear a small ‘oof’ follow shortly after.  Looking up he saw Gladio’s hand hovering over the young Prince’s head from a well placed smack and Prompto’s elbow digging into his side.  Both had disapproving looks on their faces and honestly, Ignis did appreciate the gesture on his part.

“I think what his majesty is trying to say is… are you alright, Iggy?” Gladio asked, turning to look back at his friend.  This time there was no mistaking the worry etched over his features and Ignis offered up a tired smile.

“I’m fine, Gladio.  Truly.  A busy week has merely caught up with me.  I was just… resting my eyes,” he said, though his statement lost its effect as he had to cover his mouth to smother a jaw cracking yawn.

“Dude, you were snoring so loud we could hear you from the hall.  We thought a garula had gotten into your office!” Prompto offered up and this time Ignis felt his cheeks flush up.

“And that is the most color I’ve seen  on your face in awhile,” Gladio pointed out as well, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Listen.  I know we pester you about this about once a week, but you need to take some time for yourself.  What would you do if you walked in on Noct sleeping in the middle of… the… ya know what, bad example.”

“Hey!”

Ignis bit his lower lip to stifle a chuckle, causing the other three to turn and look at him.

“I appreciate your concern, but I promise I’m doing just fine.  I can look after myself,” he offered, standing up from his desk and closing his laptop.  “But… judging by you three being here, I assume you needed me for something?”

“Tweedle dee and Tweedle Prom here wanted to head over to the arcade and I was going to escort them.  But… I wanted to check in with you first and make sure his Majesty wasn’t trying to skive off of anything first.”

Ignis smiled at that and shook his head.  “No.  If memory serves Noct finished up his English essay last night and I was going to revise it this evening.  I see no harm in them going out for a few hours.”

“Oh my god, I’m not seven!  It literally sounds like parents setting up a playdate for me!” Noct grumbled, causing Prompto to giggle beside him despite his best efforts.

“Well if you behaved like a good child your mother and I wouldn’t have to do this,” Gladio teased causing Prompto to laugh harder as Ignis rolled his eyes fondly.

“You all are ridiculous.  But you better get going.  I do hope you’ll be back at a reasonable time, however.  I’m making anak steak kebabs this evening,” Ignis said as he began pulling together his notes into a folder to take with him.

“There is absolutely no way I’m missing out on that.  You can bet I’ll have the kids back in time,” Gladio said lightly before turning to Noct and Prompto.  “Gods help you if we miss dinner,” he warned, already starting to herd them out the door.

Ignis chuckled as he watched the trio leaving.  If setting a time rarely kept them on track, then using Gladio’s appetite as an alarm usually worked.  Before long he had all of his papers and his laptop squared away in his carry case and was heading to the Prince’s apartment to start on his evening tasks.

He’d gotten in a nice little cat nap so hopefully he’d be able to have a productive rest of the evening.

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

“I’m such an idiot!”

“Dude, no you’re not!  Noct tell him!”

“No because we were both idiots!”

What was going on?

Where… OH NO!

Ignis sat up so fast he almost sent himself flying backwards in the kitchen chair he’d been seated in.  The only thing saving him from a freefall backwards being Gladio’s quick reflexes and impressive strength.

The Shield in training and reached out in time to brace the back of the chair, causing Ignis to remain half tipped back and looking up at the upside down face of his friend.

“... uh… hello…,” Ignis said sheepishly, his head feeling slightly dizzy from the sudden shift in perspective.  “If you would be so kind as to set me down I think I may have to go check on our dinner.”

“What dinner?  There’s a package of thawed anak steaks on the counter and a couple peppers on the cutting board.  Dinner never happened, Specs,” Noct tried to explain carefully, watching his friend with far more concern than Ignis wanted to see on his face.  Though honestly, hearing that he hadn’t even started on their meal made guilt start bubbling up in his chest.

“I… I’m sorry.  I was just resting my eyes for a mo-...,”  The sudden jolt of being tipped back farther had Ignis flailing slightly as a rather unbecoming yelp escaped him.  Soon he was refocused on Gladio and the look the man was giving him was thunderous.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Ignis.  Not for being exhausted.  And that’s what this is.  Exhaustion.  It’s not just resting your eyes,” Gladio stated, slowly lowering Ignis back to the floor before stepping to the side.  He kept his eyes leveled with the Adviser who, for once, didn’t have a rebuttal ready on the tip of his tongue.  Without anything forthcoming, Gladio took it as a sign to continue.  “We’re worried about you, Ignis.  I knew I shouldn’t have just let this go back at your office.  You need to take a break and get some rest.”

“But…,”

“No.  No buts, Specs,” Noct spoke up, looking just as angry as Gladio and doing a fine job of looking the part of a future monarch.  “I’m ordering you to take time off.  I swear I’ll get my Dad involved if I have to.”

“And I’ll get my Dad to step in as well,” Gladio said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest and standing up taller.

“Yeah!  And… um…,” Prompto paused a moment, trying to figure out his own master stroke before a smug smile finally appeared.  “Sure would be a shame if Cor found out that you were overworking yourself like this.  Remember how he almost had that Councilman’s head when the dick made those comments about you?  How do you think he’ll react knowing that you’re the one running yourself ragged?”

Ignis paused as he heard that, looking between the three of them.  Each one with an absolute look of determination in their eyes.

“So… you three are willing to bother the three most important figureheads of Insomnia against me to make sure I get some rest?” Ignis asked quietly, watching as they all nodded in unison.

“Think about that, Ignis.  We are literally planning on turning a King, a Shield and a Marshal on you to make sure you sleep.  And what’s more… is that you know they’ll make sure you do,” Gladio said simply, this time allowing a small smile to appear.  “And I mean… you’re due for a vacation, right?  We could all go camping for the weekend.  Get you out of the Citadel just to do nothing.  You deserve it.”

There really did seem to be no way of getting out of this and honestly, the last thing he wanted to do was to pull King Regis, Clarus and Cor into this so with a little shake of his head he finally relented.

“Alright.  You three win,” he offered, giving them a tired smile and watching as the trio relaxed in front of him.  “But I swear if this really is an easy going camping trip then that means I don’t have to gut the fish or do the dishes, correct?  I’ll happily cook, but I’m not doing the manual labor.”

“Nah.  That’s what we’ve got Dad for,” Prompto teased, giving Gladio a nudge before finding himself in a headlock, letting out a surprised squeak and flailing against the man's side.

“That’s it… you’re on fish cleaning duty,” Gladio growled playfully, ruffling Prompto’s hair and making him sputter.

Ignis had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing at the ridiculous sight.

Perhaps he really could do with a nice little vacation.  A chance to catch up on some nothingness and just… take a break?

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

“I mean… we did say that he should use the time to catch up on rest.  Right, guys?”

“Well.. yeah, but I was betting it would be reading in the shade or… I don’t know… reading not in the shade.”

“Shh… if you two don’t keep it down you’ll wake him up,” Gladio whispered as they all took in the sight before them.

After their mini intervention at Noct’s apartment it had been agreed that they would all go on a small camping trip to get out of the Citadel.  Get Ignis away from the hustle and bustle and let him get a chance to relax.

And to be fair everything had been going as planned.  They’d made it to the haven in good time and Gladio had already set up the tent while Noct and Prompto scouted out the best places to go fishing and to get firewood.

Ignis had mentioned leaving his new book in the backseat of the car and they hadn’t thought anything of it.  

Until fifteen minutes had passed and no Adviser had returned.

Fearing foul play they had all taken off in a mad dash back to the car only to come across something they had all become far too accustomed to as of late.

Sprawled out in the backseat of the car, hand loosely holding onto the missing book, mouth slightly agape and glasses askew, Ignis was out like a light.  The soft snoring coming from the young Adviser was a testament that he was definitely not disturbed by their arrival and that spoke volumes of just how tired he had been.

Click.

“You know that when he finds out you took a picture of him like that you’re a dead man, right?” Noct asked Prompto, the blond only chuckling and looking at the picture on his camera.

“What?  He looks so peaceful right now!  I couldn’t help myself.  When do we get to see a peaceful, Iggy?  Never!”

“If you two are done maybe you could help me?” Gladio said, arms already full of the sleeping Adviser who, even after being shifted around, still slept on completely oblivious to the world around him.  Though Gladio did have to fight a blush when the man nuzzled against his chest slightly.

“Oh my gods, please let me take another picture?  Please!  He’s literally being adorable right now and that’s even more rare than a peaceful Iggy!” Prompto asked even as they all began to make their way back to the tent.

“Heck, it’s even more rare then a sleeping Ignis,” Noct teased, making Gladio chuckle.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Gladio said lightly, looking down at Ignis as the poor guy slept on, completely unawares of their conversation.  Gods he needed this and Gladio was more than ready to make sure that he got to enjoy as much rest as he needed.   

“He’s just... resting his eyes.”

[meridia002-lorddiavolosconcubine]

Dizzump in the Devildom

WARNING: FECES/DEFECATION, NSFW (NO SEX, BUT UTTERLY DISGUSTING), MERIDIA HAS AN ACCIDENT

Let this be the first entry in the Devildom Diary.

My first day in the Devildom was a total ASS DISASTER. Literally. Imagine finding yourself in an unfamiliar world that lacked amenities as basic as toilets. I was horrified and embarrassed when it came time to take my first dizzump in the Devildom. On that first evening I grabbed my demon boyfriend, Mammon, and pinned him against a dark corner to ask him where the toilet was.

“A toy what?” Mammon asked as he characteristically threw up his hands in confusion.

I dumbfoundedly watched him shake his head at me as waves of impeccable white hair grazed his forehead. Why humiliate myself by explaining the concept of human defecation to this shiny, smooth entity? I waved off my question as an exhaustion-induced brain fart and  decided that it was best for me to search for a place to poop that night.

Why doesn't Hell have toilets? I searched the Internet for “demon boy anatomy,” and what I discovered didn’t comfort me. According to AkuWikia, demons lack functional buttholes. Their pink starfishes are only for anal sex and were never an original part of their evolution. The wiki article said the first king of the Devildom spent centuries watching humans procreate and fuck. He saw anal sex as unique and wanted demons to be able to do it. From that day onward, the demon king cast a spell on all his subjects that drilled perfect puckered holes in their anuses. The article made no mention of human defecation.

So there I was, my struggles to contain the doo doo within my donut hole failing me. Touching cloth is what humans call it when you’re desperately trying to keep the turtle’s head in its shell. Prairie dogging. You get it. I bemoaned my choice to wear tight-ass pants. I clenched my cheeks, my hands pushing them together to stall Mr. Hanky for as long as I could. I waddled sideways in the hallway like I had something up my ass. After all, I did.. it was threatening to break free. Why did I have to eat that burrito baby last night? Shit!

Stiffly shuffling against the wall, I opened the bathroom door. No toilets, but a pretty big bathtub. big enough to squat and drop deuce in the drain.

No! Shaking that thought from my mind, I continued searching every closet and room I had access to. Buckets? No. Where would I dump it? Asmo’s underwear drawer? Maybe. Ugh. Behind the bookshelves in the living room? Possibly. Let’s keep that as the number two choice.

I paused mid step in the hallway as my rectum clenched up in painful spasms. You know when the the shit starts coming down the pipe a bit more and holding it in causes painful cramps? That’s a sign you needed to find a toilet yesterday.

Time was running out as I was growing a monkey tail in my underwear. I needed to paint the Oval Office soon. Do I go in the bathtub and try to wash it down the drain? It seemed like the most private option. At this point, I could go outside for all the little D’s to see. What if Caveman Solo spied me dropping anchor in the grass like a dog? He’d probably like that.

I shivered at the thought of that shady fuckboi watching me shooting torpedoes on the side of the House of Lamentation. Why? Why didn’t they prepare this one little detail? Would it hurt these perfect, poopless men to install toilets for the one disgusting poop human?

My ass cheeks squeezed to the maximum when the final cramp hit me with a rumbling so loud it could’ve been Beelzebeef’s stomach. My cheeks gave out, and I went right in the seat of my pants. Staying in the bathroom, I locked the golden doorknob behind me. I dropped my pants, sticky brown separating from the cotton of my dollar store underwear. I glared at the brown curl in the seat of my panties with disgust. "I hate you," I whispered with all my vitriol.

I threw my clothing into a sagging, sad pile in the corner. I stood buck naked with my legs obscenely wide over the drain, squatting as much as my shortened Achilles’ tendons allowed. I inhaled and exhaled slowly to relax my sphincter. Warm ropes slid through my rectum like a monorail. I waited until I heard the soft plop in the drain. Sighing, I was about to stand up when another bout of the shits hit me, and this time it wasn’t as neat as the turd I just birthed. Before I could gather myself and clean my mess, a second violent episode of the shits gripped me. At this point, I was already half standing and no longer perfectly aiming over the drain. A typhoon of liquid ass viciously blasted the white tiles.

I panicked, and the more anxious I got, the worse the diarrhea became. I decided to accept the situation and let it all out.

“It will all be over with soon,” I said out loud. “And then I can clean it.”

With that being said, I pushed like a mother in labor. Pressure built inside my belly and travelled down to my colon until it exited my body in mere seconds. I became lost in the moment. I don’t know how much time passed, but it felt like the best time of life. Being so far gone in my poophoria, a moan escaped my mouth. Oh, the relief I felt in my guts! For hours I had held it inside me until the feces seemed to be sentient. It came out on its own.

My sweet moment was disrupted by a knocking at the door.

“Oi! Meridia!” Knock! Knock! “What’s going on in there? The smell is awful, and I gotta take a piss!”

Oh, fuck! Mammon’s timing couldn’t have been worse! Fuckfuckfuckfuck. I had to squeeze my cheeks together to restrain in the rest of the shitstorm while I looked around for paper towels. What was I supposed to say?

“Uh ... J-just a minute! Just taking an extra long bath!” My voice faltered.

“I gotta pee, so I’m comin’ in,” he answered. “It shouldn’t interrupt your bath!”

Goddammit!

Before I could stop him, Mammon turned the doorknob. The gold knob turned slowly, the door opened the slowest I’ve ever seen a door open. It creaked and squeaked ever so loudly, and I feared it would attract more attention. My stomach dropped again resulting in a tiny spurt of brown goo. White hair and brown skin poked through the door. First his head came through the crack like a little prairie dog. Then the crack opened wider as a RAD uniform appeared. The hands that were on the demon’s hips flew up to his nose as he gagged.

“Ack! What is that sme—” My boyfriend stopped talking as he stared at the Pollock-esque brown masterpiece I made all over the tiles.

“Meridia! What’s that comin’ outta your ass?!” He screamed.

My legs quaked with each spasm of shit I held back. It was useless. My cheeks jiggled with one final effort as a downpour of liquid brown splattered the tiles below me. Mammon was panicking, and I needed to explain this before he called his brothers for an emergency.

“Please calm down!” I begged. “I’m pooping!” My arms waved around agitatedly as I attempted to explain defecation to his confused face. “It’s a human thing. Please, just help me clean this fucking mess!”

Mammon seemed even more confused and distressed. His arms flailed all over the place in confusion. 

“What does this even mean?” His voice cracked out. “Does your shit need to ... go back inside ya ass?!” 

What? Oh, god no. I hope he doesn’t try that!

“No! Just, please don’t call attention to this!” I hissed. “I need you to bring me towels so I can clean this mess up.”

I hoped I could get through to him, because he gazed with a half-mile stare at my brown splattered masterpiece on the walls. 

“Mammon!” I snapped him out of his shock. “Get. Me. Towels!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, thing.” 

Poor little guy. He sounded ill. It wasn’t long before the white-haired tsundere came back with a bunch of white towels. I palmed my face.

“White towels? Human excrement will stain those so much!” I said.

He shrugged. “I guess we’re gonna have brown towels at the end of the night.”

Taking one from the stack to wrap around my body, I was able to set about frantically mopping my midnight regret off the walls and floor. Maybe the most difficult part was scooping my mess out of the bathtub drain. I turned to Mammon and was immediately floored by the sight of the demon with his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and shirt unbuttoned. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I think I was freakishly turned on by the smell of shit. His body odor combined with the scent of fecal lasagna twisted something primal inside of my core. I looked down at my hand, remember that I was squeezing an ice cream scoop sized clump of doodoo in my hand. I shook my head to snap out of my arousal before my thoughts went somewhere taboo. 

I hurled the crap clog inside a garbage bag, which reminded me of the lack of a toilet. 

“So, we need to talk to Lucifer rather discreetly about installing a toilet in the house,” I reminded Mammon. “On second thought, let’s just see if Diavolo can put toilets everywhere.”

Mammon shook his head. “Why didn’t ya just say something earlier, human?” he said. “When you asked me about the toilet earlier, ya coulda just explained it to me. I think I heard something about Diavolo having putting those in RAD just for the human students.” 

I froze. “You ... What?!”

He gulped. “Uhh, yeah. How’d ya think Solomon shits?” 

My body began to shake in anger. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

He stopped when my emotions started to show. “Hey, now. I’m sorry. It just slipped our minds.” 

My jaw tensed as vengeful ideas played through my shit-addled brain. Leaning over the tub, I eyed the drain deviously as a new set of spasms wrapped my bowels in their grasp. 

“Mammon,” I eyed him sideways. “We’ve cleaned enough in here, and I need to bathe.” 

He stopped scrubbing to wipe sweat off his sexy forehead. “If ya say so. Call me if ya need me human.” 

Before he left, we made out like teenagers, my soiled hand leaving smudges in his clean, white hair.

When I was finally alone, I dropped my fluffy white, brown smudged towel on the clean tiles. Stepping inside the shower, I marveled at the freshly cleaned tub. Sad I would have to soil it again. 

Once more positioning my legs vulgarly wide over the drain, I unleashed everything. No holding back.

[septiembrre]

Brio - “stop making empty promises!”

The first time Beth thinks about divorce, it’s several years in. They don’t have any kids yet, but the mortar of Dean helping with her mom’s medical bills is fresh, sticky and binds them to each other. He works and she manages their lives, preparing meals, running their errands, and helps Annie and Gregg and Sadie. Her life with Dean itches, and it blankets her like thick wool. 

She always maintained straight A’s, despite working part-time and babysitting on the side. She volunteered with Key Club, was active in Student Council, even though as she grew older she no longer had enough time for orchestra. Despite all the hurdles growing up, she had hoped she would be the first in her family to graduate from college. She finished twenty credits at Wayne County with an impeccable GPA before her mother’s medical bills became too much. Her mom needed her, Annie needed her, and there was Dean. And now here they are. 

At first, she thinks it’s a mean-spirited, passing thought. Except, it sits with her. With her mother dead, her father gone, all that she has left in the world is Annie, herself, and Dean. And Dean is sweet, goofy and he helped her laugh through the stifling fog of her mother’s illness. However, despite how stable it is, Beth knows that she doesn’t love him. 

A few months later, she becomes pregnant for the first time. Beth is nervous, a complete wreck, and she is also filled with love and hope. She picks Dean. She picks growing her family. She decides to stay. 

Over the years, the thought comes and goes. After three more children, after post-partum, and depression, and anxiety, and soul-crushing boredom - forget love. Beth doesn’t know if she could look at Dean with any warm and fuzzies again. After each birth, it rises, festering, but she doesn’t know if she’s strong enough. She thinks, if it gets really bad, worse than this tolerable bad, she’ll do it. She’ll divorce him. She promises it to herself. 

It’s twenty years into her marriage when she discovers the infidelity. It devastating blow, but she’ll make do. Then, she pieces together the rest and she’s fifteen again, finding herself about to be swallowed whole by the precariousness of her class and financial standing. Worst of all, this time her kids are coming with her, too. It burns. Her thoughts alternate between survival and revenge. They swallow her up. She promises herself that now, or once she figures all of this out, the extent of his betrayal and how she will right it, she will divorce his lying, cheating ass. She promises herself that she will devour him, crush him into nothing after she’s finished. 

In the midst of all of her pain when she’s certain there will never be sex or love or companionship in her life, enters a crime boss. The challenge of him sets her alight in a completely different way. He recognizes her and helps her to better understand herself.

One late night, over bourbon and scheming, he turns to her and asks, “Why you with him?”

The tenor is sexual as it always is with Rio. But, she sees that he’s curious if not confused. It’s funny because just several months ago wasn’t she sitting in a car with him, saying that there was no logical explanation for them to be together, and here he is questioning the existence of her high school sweetheart. The one he shot, but didn’t kill. And she’s still here, alone in a room with him. 

She doesn’t have an answer for Rio.

---

More and more, Beth surprises her sister, her best friend, and especially her husband. She even surprises Rio. But most importantly she surprises herself. She realizes how much she has to learn about who she is and what she’s capable of. However, something that doesn’t surprise her is how quickly she can adapt to things that are unbearable. There’s been a complete upheaval of her life, but at the end of the day, she’s still married to Dean. She doesn’t know how to pull the trigger here. She tells herself it’s easier for the kids. She consoles herself that she’s absolutely going to do it, just not yet.

Time moves forward. The next year is a rollercoaster. What she has with Rio sours. Beth pulls a literal trigger and when she comes to she realizes it’s the last thing she could have ever wanted. She moves ghost-like through her life, and she can’t finish the paperwork for the divorce. Then, Rio reappears, is seemingly resurrected. Business is back to how it used to be. But, they will never be what they once were. She did this. This is absolutely her fault. The unbearability of her life with Dean pales to this pain. She is exhausted by surviving Rio’s wrath and all the thoughts she has of contrition. 

Another night, there’s no bourbon, but it’s the two of them alone, and they’re talking business. Her phone lights up and she grits her teeth. Dean should know better than to call her when she’s working, and she thinks that he has such little regard for her time that he must have forgotten. She deliberates taking the call for a moment, and then she sends it to voicemail. 

Rio’s watching her and a detached curiosity colors his face. “Why you still with him?”

It’s a good question. Dean has moved out and works at a hot tub store now. She can see how he talks about his coworker and knows that it’s over. Their custody schedule is solid and the kids have adjusted the new routine. Her excuse used to be that they didn’t have the money to go through with the divorce proceedings. But, now business is good. It’s been good since before Rio returned with his vengeance and they continue to be profitable business partners. She doesn’t have much emotion left for her husband, all of it siphoned to nurturing her children, supporting her loved ones, withstanding Rio’s punishing distance and cruel turns of phrase. She has nothing left for Dean but brittleness.

She bites her lip. “It’s easier.” 

There’s a moment where Rio frowns at her. Her heart squeezes when she almost reads concern or disappointment, but the expression shifts and it’s clearly a sneer. 

She takes a breath, and powers through the rest of the planning, with this indispensable person who hates her.  Then she sends him home, and settles into her solitude, with her children fast asleep in their beds. 

-

When it finally happens, it happens little by little. Divorce doesn’t happen in a day. They re-sign the papers. They hire attorneys.  There’s no contest so it moves speedily enough. There’s one long session where they sit down together and with their lawyers and document a custody agreement, officially divide assets that were informally divided months ago. Afterward, Beth humors Dean, and they go out for a celebratory drink. He confirms what she suspected, and tells her that Gayle will be moving in with him at the end of her lease. It’s bittersweet. 

Gayle is amazing. She will be an incredible ally in their co-parenting situation. Beth liked her from the first time they met. And Dean has grown but Beth can’t help but feel worried for Gayle and overall judgey of Dean and his hare-brained decisions. It’s not until she gets home, and relieves Annie from her babysitting duties, that she realizes what she’s also feeling is lonely. Even surrounded by these munchkins she loves, even with the thrill and success of her small-business career and criming, even with her sister’s ad hoc ways of showing support and Ruby’s ways of reminding her to care for herself. Right now, she’s just feeling it. 

-

Eventually, all the paperwork is processed, and the court enters the judgment. Her attorney calls to confirm the good news. She’s free. 

She doesn’t know how she feels, she doesn’t know that she feels anything. It’s finally happened. She calls out sick from the shop. She doesn’t get into it with Ruby and Annie, just says she’s coming down with something and spends the rest of the day in bed. Beth realizes that she feels awful, and it’s not for the loss of Dean or some glorification of their marriage. She feels mournful, devastated by the loss of who she was forced to be for years. She made herself small and pristine and performed a token version of herself as a person, a wife and a mother for so long.  She can’t stop crying. 

It’s quiet tears and then it swells and sobs rise up from her throat. Sometimes she pushes her hot, splotchy face to the pillows and is swallowed by her grief. She toddles around the house, eats a little bit, and collapses in her bed for a second day. 

In the early evening, just after sunset, she startles,  hearing the lock turn in the doors facing the backyard. Rio’s silhouette is in the doorway as he pauses and adjusts to the darkness in the bedroom. He must have used the hideaway key.

There’s nothing boss about her having been in bed crying for a second day. Her hair is matted, her skin is splotching, and she is still so sad. She remembers that he’s seen her worse. The memory makes her feel nauseous, and she hides her face, wrapping her arms around her knees. 

Rio moves towards her and pulls back the covers, sliding into her bed. His arms wrap around her. She leans into the hollow of his throat and he murmurs, “You’re gonna be okay, Elizabeth.”

She smells his cologne and that scent that’s just him. She feels the cotton of his shirt against her sensitive skin, and the brush of his lips at her forehead. And the grief hurts, it really does, but she believes him.

[rufousnmacska]

Goodbye and Hello - 6

Manon and Dorian said goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time. 

fanfic master list (includes the link to my fics on AO3)

Previous chapters:

Part One: I Wish…

Part Two: Another Day

Part Three: Those Two Words

Part Four: Breakfast in Bed

Part Five: Waiting

Part Six: Confessions (smut warning)

***

The seasons at the Ferian Gap were characterized more by the presence or absence of storms than changes in temperature. Lethal snow squalls signified winter and cloudbursts the summer, with the two separated by brief stints of pleasant and mild weather. Manon and Dorian were visiting at the tail end of fall. In just a week, they’d felt the air grow more frigid, noticed the daylight shorten, and watched the frost cover more ground each morning. The winter storms were fast approaching.

Despite the chill, there were a few sheltered valleys tucked into the steep slopes of the Fangs and Ruhnns, valleys that were still home to meadows and fields with a few late blooms clinging to life. As Manon guided Abraxos to what she’d come to think of as his meadow, she worried that it might be too late to find any flowers for him to enjoy. Luckily, it was one of the protected spots that had been spared a killing frost.

She’d kept it a surprise, but he knew the terrain, quickening his wing beats when she nudged him in its direction. Once he saw it, a few spots of brilliant color scattered among the drying grass, he released a long soft howl. Manon felt Dorian laugh against her back, and when Abraxos landed, they hastily dismounted to avoid being pulled under as he rolled on the ground.

The sun broke through the morning cold enough that they spent the entire day there, watching Abraxos roll and sleep and sigh in his meadow. Her wyvern’s bliss seemed to rub off on Manon. She marveled at it, having never thought it would be something she’d experience.

Opening up to Dorian about the Thirteen had seemed like an immense obstacle, a thing to force herself to do. Instead, it felt natural and instinctive, and something she should have done before now. Even if “before now”, she wouldn’t have had the words.

The long-worn bandage of grief had been torn free the night before with Orghana. The pain and hesitation remained, but it was noticeably muted. Most of her words had already been spoken aloud. Those that had not - the nightmares, the anger, the guilt – came a little more easily . She’d even given voice to the absolute worst feelings, telling Dorian about the dark nights she wished for nothing more than to rejoin her coven.

Dorian listened, reassured, and added his own insights when he could. His sorrow from losing them made her feel not so alone. He mourned the same witches she did. That he was healing from the loss of Sorscha and his father gave her a much needed boost of hope.

Now, back at their room in the Omega, Manon closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of the bathtub. The water grew steadily warmer. She’d done little that day, certainly not enough to warrant the sigh she released as the heat penetrated her muscles.

“I was worried that Abraxos would be spoiled here,” she said. “Apparently, I was the one in danger all along.”

Dorian laughed softly. “That was my only goal this week. You didn’t stand a chance.”

They sat at either end of the huge copper tub. Steam rose off the water, filling the room with the scent of the herbs and petals floating on the surface. Instead of candles, Dorian lit the room with his magic. Flames of varying size and color hung suspended in the air. A half empty plate of pastries and a kettle of Qara’s molten chocolate drink were within easy reach.

Water lapped gently against the sides of the tub as Dorian shifted towards her. She kept her eyes closed but couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“Manon.”

The tone of his voice was serious, no hint of seduction or teasing. Her smile faded, and she opened her eyes to find he’d moved beside her, still face to face. His expression matched his tone and she sat up, unsure of what might be coming.

“There’s something I need to say.”

An inexplicable panic rippled through her and Manon had to force herself to stay seated. With all his attention on her, Dorian noticed. He reached under the water and took her hands in his. Their faint trembling eased in his grip.

“I’ve been thinking about some things lately and…” He trailed off, his eyes unable to meet hers.

Manon’s stomach sank. Either this was very bad, or he was going to tell her something she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear.

“That night. In the Fangs.” He gave her a heavy, knowing look. “When you asked me to stay.”

That’s putting it mildly, she thought, the tension within her changing but not dissipating.  To him though, she only said, “And you went to Morath. You don’t need to-”

“I do,” he said. “I know you understand what was at stake. And I know you would have done the same thing. You did do the same thing, for your people. But that doesn’t mean that I handled it well. I don’t regret going. But I do regret how I went.”

Manon was silent. She had nothing to add. He was right. She would have, would still, sacrifice herself, or her desires, if it meant a chance to save her people. She couldn’t even argue that he’d gone in ill-prepared. Learning how to shape shift, picking up details about Morath from anyone who’d been there, training with Sorrel and the rest of the Thirteen, perfecting his magic… He’d done it all to get the last wyrd key.

And he’d been successful. What more was there to say?

“Looking back on it, I realize how selfish it was. Hiding my plans from you. Pushing you to admit you cared about me.” There was a long pause before he said, “Leaving without saying goodbye. I’m sorry, Manon.”

Again, she said nothing, just stared at him. There were no lies or ulterior motives visible on his face. He was an open book, laid out bare before her, easy to read.

When she’d discovered him with Kaltain, discussing how he might infiltrate Morath, she’d only allowed her anger to come to the fore. Letting him see how she really felt hadn’t been an option. The anger masked the hurt and betrayal, the foolishness she felt for thinking he’d never lie to her. Maybe he had seen it that night though. For as much as he was an open book to her, she was never very good at hiding her feelings from him.

A shiver ran through her and she realized the water was getting cold, a sign of how long she’d been sitting there without speaking. Immediately, a rush of warmth pulsed through it as Dorian reheated it with his magic.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do all that and then leave? Why keep it from me? I didn’t want you to go, and I had my own responsibilities. But if you’d asked me, I could have helped somehow.”

The anger she felt this time was not covering anything else up and it was a relief to release. As if these thoughts had been slowly boiling inside her, always churning under the surface. With the lid now open, they poured out of her.

“Instead, you let me think you’d given up your search. You let me think that if I asked-” She stopped short and took a shaky breath. With barely restrained emotion, she growled, “If I asked you to stay, there was a chance you would. You let me think you’d said yes.”

Dorian flinched at her words. Offering no excuse, no argument, he said, “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she repeated, her voice choked and raw. The fire of moments ago was gone, leaving a numb ache.

“Because I wanted to stay. I wanted to say yes. Because if you had gone with me, and something happened to you…” Dorian exhaled, his breath pooling in the now freezing air. The magical flames flickered as if blown by a real breeze. “I knew that if I’d said goodbye to you that morning, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to leave.”

“You were afraid.”

“Yes,” he said with a humorless laugh. “I was terrified. Not just about going to Morath. I was afraid of how I felt about you, Manon. If you’d gone with me and I was faced with a choice between saving your life or the rest of Erilea…”

“You would have chosen Erilea,” she answered for him.

He shook his head slightly. “I wasn’t so sure of that. But I was sure that I was done running. From my country, my responsibilities.” He smiled dryly. “My intentions may have been noble and kingly. The execution was anything but. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Manon didn’t know how to reply to that. He was still holding her hands, squeezing them with a fierce intensity that matched his eyes. Everything he said was the truth. She knew it because as before, if their roles had been reversed, she would have felt the same way, done the same things.

Hadn’t she already? Her sadness and grief kept her from replying to his letters, along with her duties as queen. But there was a deeper fear hidden under the sorrow that kept her from reaching out to him. One she’d never understood, had never truly been confronted with, until that day in Orynth when her sisters were no more. One she absolutely refused to think about right now.

Instead, she replayed that night over and over in her head. How he’d been surprised by her offer, how he’d made the excuse that she would never be happy in that kind of arrangement. Now, she could clearly see that the excuse had served to make his leaving easier not just on her, but him as well.

***

Dorian watched her consider everything, patient and quiet. At least, he was that way on the outside. Inside he was roiling with so many emotions he might explode.

He’d been an idiot. Childish and arrogant when he’d made her admit to having feelings for him. In any other circumstance, one in which he wasn’t leaving to possibly sacrifice his life, it might not have been a problem. He would have reveled in the knowledge that this witch cared for him. A part of him had. But he’d already made the choice of duty over desire by then. Which made his actions all the more selfish.

Distractedly, he though about Morath. About how he’d pushed Manon and her confession, her proposal, into the farthest reaches of his mind. Not only to keep him from turning back, but to keep Maeve from realizing her importance to him.

The valg queen had suspected. Which proved to be lucky for him. His lapse in control when she’d offered herself to Erawan in Manon’s form had been dismissed by Maeve. Dorian still didn’t know how he’d managed to keep a lid on his rage and magic in that moment. Obtaining the final wyrd key had been the only thing keeping him sane in those days and nights in the hell of Morath.

Now, he continued to watch Manon. She had pulled her legs up to rest her arms and chin on her knees. There was none of the lethal killer visible. No bloodthirsty witch, no powerful queen. Only a person he loved and had hurt, trying to decide if she would forgive him. He kept the water warm and would do so until their skin turned wrinkled and soggy.

But he didn’t have to wait that long.

Her eyes flicked up at him and Manon finally spoke. “You could have left a note.”

Her voice was soft, but Dorian didn’t dare let himself think she had accepted his apology. Until she shifted and began to move towards him.

Watching her warily, he released a breath as she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved into his lap. The water barely rippled, so smooth were her movements.

“I didn’t have any paper or ink,” he said, sliding his arms around her waist.

“And what’s the point of having raw magic if you can’t conjure those things?”

“That’s not how it works,” he replied, trying not to let her position atop him become a distraction. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Manon tilted her head and smiled. “Perhaps.” She shifted again, this time locking her legs around his torso. Ducking her head, she ran her tongue up the side of his neck to nibble on his earlobe.

Dorian moaned, then whispered roughly in her ear, “I want to hear you say it.”

She sat upright to look into his eyes. “I accept your apology.”

Something deep inside him eased at her words, at the light in her eyes. Manon took his face in her hands, leaned forward, and kissed him.

He was perilously close to losing his mind as they kissed. Vaguely, he had a thought that the bathtub wasn’t the best place for this. It had been fine for some of their couplings over the past week. But not tonight. Not on their last night together.

Dorian pushed himself off the side of the metal tub. With her legs still around him, her lips still on his, he tried to stand. He broke their kiss to mumble, “Hold on.” Manon laughed quietly in his ear as she tightened her grip with both her arms and legs.

Easing his way up slowly so he didn’t fall and kill them both, Dorian stood and sat on the edge of the basin, then swung his feet around to stand. With his magic, he wicked away the water from their bodies and hair, earning an impressed hum from Manon.

“I still think you could have magicked a paper and pen,” she teased before returning to their kiss.

Carrying her to the bed, Dorian made some noise of agreement. He really couldn’t create things from thin air, but he had no desire to argue with her. His desire was focused elsewhere.

She hadn’t loosened her hold on him, so with each step, she moved against him. Each touch threatened to overwhelm him, but he managed to get them to the bed. Laying her down, invisible hands pulled her arms up over her head, stretching her out before him, while his real fingers joined his tongue and began to explore.

Manon writhed beneath him as he moved away from her mouth and traveled slowly down her body. She pushed lightly against his hold on her hands, annoyed that she couldn’t touch him. Dorian looked up from where he was lazily kissing her inner thigh and gave her a warning glance. When she bared her iron teeth at him, he grinned and began teasing her with the tip of his tongue.

Her breathy moans were almost enough to send him over the edge. When he added his fingers to the spot he was kissing, she came almost immediately. Reluctantly, he left his place between her legs and looked at her. The sight of her golden eyes glazed over, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath, her hair tangled under her head… Dorian had intended to draw this out, but he had little willpower when it came to her.

Lifting her hips up, he positioned himself above her, teasing her entrance until she was moaning again. When the fog of her pleasure had faded and her eyes were focused clearly on him, Dorian eased into her, lowering himself to press completely against her body. Craving her touch, he released her hands. They quickly found his hair, then his back, then lower, as she pulled him against her, rocking her hips in time with his.

Feeling the sharp points of her teeth graze his neck, Dorian groaned her name, encouraging her to keep going. With a swift movement, she scored his skin and licked at the slow trickle of blood. As she began to drink from the slight wound, he felt her muscles tense and clench around him. Breaking the seal on his skin, Manon threw her head back as she came again.

She’d admitted to him this week that she’d never tasted a human like him before. His blood lacked the watery fear and weakness of the others. Dorian played it off as a result of his raw magic, but she’d said no. While she could taste his power, there was a charge that had nothing to do with magic. His flavor was utterly unique. And one she now craved.

The thought, combined with the movements of her hips and her hands and her tongue and her everything, sent him falling over the edge with her.

***

As she watched him begin to doze off, Dorian’s apology and confession replayed through Manon’s mind.

Like a fan to a flame, his words seemed to kindle her emotions, enhancing what was already there and bringing life to new ones she couldn’t yet describe. One thing he’d said kept resurfacing in her thoughts.

“You really wanted to say yes?” she asked, so quietly, she thought maybe he wouldn’t hear her.

But his eyes, with their thick, black lashes, slowly opened. She was only beginning to keep track of the changing shades of blue revealed by different lighting. Right now, they were a deep gray-blue, made darker by desire, not just the low candlelight.

“So much that it scared me.”

Manon nodded faintly in understanding, knowing there was no insult or slight in his reply.

He took her hand, tracing her fingers with his own. “I was young when my mother began to plan for my marriage. She loved flaunting daughters of nobles around in front of me. And vice versa,” he added with a sigh.

“That sounds pleasant.” He laughed in agreement, continuing to play with her hand. The feather light touch of his fingers was beginning to drive her to distraction.

“The short story is, I’ve had a long time to think about what kind of woman I’d want to marry.” Hesitation crossed his face as he eyed her. “I wanted to marry someone who was my equal,” he finally said. “Not a woman who was only interested in the crown or the riches. And not someone who saw only the fairy tale and not me.”

“That seems reasonable,” she said.

“You’d think so,” he said. “My mother disagreed. And maybe she was right in a way. It’s obvious now that I was limiting myself in one crucial way.”

She knew few details about his healer turned spy, but she imagined the woman met all of those requirements.

“I never thought I’d find those things with a witch,” he said.

Something tightened in her gut. “What about Sorscha?” she heard herself ask.

Sadness flickered in his eyes. But just sadness. Before, in those weeks spent searching for the Crochans, she’d seen the guilt creep over his face sometimes when he’d look at her. It had taken her a while to figure out what caused it. Even after realizing it was because of the healer, she ignored it. Or, tried to. There were times when an inexplicable hurt filled her upon seeing it.

There was no guilt now. In fact, there hadn’t been this entire week.

“She is gone,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I loved her and I still miss her. But…” He smiled. “But I think there may have been a bit of a fairy tale quality to it. On both our parts. It was no less real. Just naive.”

“And I’m less breakable.” Her intent was to lighten the moment, but she regretted the words the moment they left her lips.

“No, “ he said. “You see me. You have seen me since the moment we met. The good and the bad. And you’ve never once judged me.”

She found herself nodding again. Yes, they challenged each other, disagreed and argued. But there was always a sense of acceptance underlying it all.

A sudden shyness overtook Dorian, an expression she had never witnessed on him before. Looking at her through those long lashes, he smiled and said, “I haven’t been with anyone else since I met you. There’s no one else I want. Only you, Manon. I’m not saying we should get married, and I don’t expect you to feel the same or say anything back-”

She pressed her fingers against his lips, and he stopped talking, his eyes turning wary.

“There’s been no one else for me either, and there won’t be,” Manon said. “Only you.”

He smiled against her fingertips then kissed them, relief radiating from him like heat. “We leave tomorrow, and the only way I will be able to get through saying goodbye is if you promise to write.”

Manon feigned an annoyed sigh and tried to think of an acceptable excuse. She was not a letter writer. No matter who it was to. But no excuse came. Dorian watched her struggle and bit back a laugh.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You will be inundated with boring letters about grain storage and building construction and all the other things that fill my days.”

His eyes glimmered. “I can’t wait.”

***

Manon threw her bags on the floor and fell onto her bed. The flight home had been uneventful but tiring. She’d ignored all the witches who’d approached her when she entered the keep, stopping only briefly to hug Glennis and tell her she’d be back to official business tomorrow. Her great-grandmother had squeezed her tightly, a smile on her face and eyes bright.

In the quiet and darkness of her room, Manon realized how much she had missed the crone. Next time, perhaps she would take Glennis with her.

A burst of cold air blew through her shabby window and Manon sat up. The breeze carried a scent she recognized. Looking around, she noticed a small wooden box sitting next to her bed.

As she opened it, other scents, these much more familiar, filled the air.

The first thing she saw was a folded piece of paper that had Read me first written on it. Smiling, she opened it.

 Dear witchling,

To ensure you keep your promise to write, I’ve enclosed some paper and envelopes. They are already addressed and the headings have been written, so most of the work has been done for you. All you need to do is fill in the blank part of the page. You can write, draw, scribble. I don’t care. Just as long as you reply, I will be pleased.

 I asked Qara to spare a few pastries as well. You will find them under the stationery. I can only hope Altai has delivered this quickly enough that they are still edible. Included is her recipe for the chocolate pastry. You should know. She does not give out her recipes to just anyone. And only after I told her it was for you did she relent. If you cannot find someone there to replicate it, Qara said to send for her.  

 I miss you already. And already I am counting the days until our next meeting.

 Always yours,

 Dorian

Underneath was a stack of envelopes addressed to the King of Adarlan. Each piece of paper bore his writing. To my dearest princeling.

Manon laughed and sat it all aside. As she ate one of the pastries, careful not to get chocolate on the stationery, she wondered when he’d arranged for all of this to be sent. Making her agree to write must have been his plan for a long time.

She wished there was something she could send him, a memento or gift that would hold special meaning. She didn’t need to glance around her room to know there was nothing there that would do.

But then…

A thought came to her. One that simultaneously filled her with excitement and dread. Something he would love and treasure. But something she would need to return to Blackbeak Keep to obtain.

Maybe this was a sign, she thought, licking her fingers clean. She didn’t know what she’d find there, but she needed to go. Needed to gather what might remain of her Thirteen, and what might help her new kingdom grow.

To be continued…

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my manorian fics, let me know.

 @itach-i  @nestasbucket  @manontrashbeak  @blackhavilliard  @bookishwitchling @jimetg98  @aditiiparasharr @mis-lil-red

[aweebwrites]

The Monastery Massacre Pt1.

“I dunno… This seems like a bad idea…” Griffin says to leader of their group of 7, Ash.

“Why did I agree to come with you morons to this place again?” Chamille says, looking around the old monastery Shade and Tox somehow managed to talk her into coming to.

“Chill out. Nothing bad is going to happen. We’re just gonna spend the night and head out in the morning. It’s snowing too hard to go anywhere right now.” Shade huffed as they pushed the large gates to the old haunted monastery on the mountain they’ve heard so much about.

“That’s what the dumb victim always says before they’re murdered by an evil spirit.” Skylor huffed, pulling her scarf closer to her person, sticking close to the group as they walked towards the tattered entrance to the actual building.

“This place is super small Skylor. You could breathe and we could hear it from the other end of the building.” Ash huffed, pushing past him and sliding the worn paper door open. “I for one, am freaking cold.” He says walking in and the rest of the group looked at each other before shrugging and following after him.

“That’s the only thing we can agree on.” Neuro spoke up as he looked around, brushing snow off his shoulders. “It’s cold and we can’t leave in a blizzard but know that first thing in the morning, I’m leaving and we will no longer be friends.” He says, glaring at Ash who smirked at him.

“So what if I didn’t mention we were camping out here?” He says as they moved further into the small building, settling in the room with the most cover. “You’re way too superstitious. Besides, you’re the one who claim to be able to see ghosts. Any ghosts here Mr. Supernatural?” He asked as they pulled out their sleeping bags.

“Ghosts are only seen when they want to be.” Was all Neuro says, setting his sleeping bag away from him and next to Skylor who appreciated the company.

She may be borderline on the topic of ghosts but it doesn’t hurt to have someone close by to reassure her.

“You guys are making a big deal out of nothing. We all know the only reason this place is still standing is because it’s so freaking high up and the plot of land is too small anyway.” Tox huffed, sitting on her sleeping bag and pulling out a bottle of bourbon. “Small talk aside, who wants a warm up?” She asked with a grin, shaking the bottle.

“Hell yeah.” Chamille says, grabbing it from her and slinging it up her head.

“Aren’t you quick to forget where we are.” Griffin says, setting down the solar powered lantern down in the middle of their small ring.

“So I take it you don’t want any?” Ash says, snatching the bottle from Chamille as Tox pulled out another.

“I never said that.” Griffin says pointedly and Tox snickered.

“Five minutes in and this place is super lame.” Ash says, passing the bottle to Griffin.

“I’d rather things stay lame if it means I keep living.” Neuro huffed, pulling out his biology book.

He was expected to become a neurosurgeon just like his father, thus the name and it’s something he also wanted for himself. There’s no such thing as free time when studying is a thing.

“Aaaand there he goes with that stupid book.” Tox huffed, leaning back against the wall.

“That should be you considering you’re failing your majors.” Skylor says pointedly and Tox shrugged.

“I never wanted to go to college anyway. I warned my old man.” Was all she says and took a swing of vodka she kept for herself.

“So what makes this place so haunted to begin with?” Chamille asked them, placing her chin in her hands.

“Oh yeah. You’re not from around these parts.” Ash says, glancing at her.

“Prepare yourself for The Tale of the Monastery Massacre.” Shade says with a smirk and Chamille was starting to regret asking already. “Legend says 50 years ago, two brothers lived in this very monastery. Both were great warriors that fought alongside may others to keep Ninjago and its people safe. They were like day and night, and they would be, in more ways than one. The older brother was cursed by faith as a child to bring forth great evil and misfortune wherever he may go. While the darkness encroached on his heart little by little each day, he resisted as much as he could, wanting to be remembered than more than what he was destined to be. The day the darkness swallowed his heart came and he sought the four great weapons their father had left behind. Legend says they were the very same weapons used to forge Ninjago. But that's another story.” He says, waving it off before getting back on track.

“The younger brother knew he couldn't let his brother take the weapons else all of Ninjago would be doomed. So he fought his older brother. But the power from the four weapons they fought with was so great, it ripped massive cracks in to the ground and scorcher the sky. In the end, the older brother was the one to fall- literally. He fell deep into a crack torn through this mountain and died instantly. To prevent anyone else from seeking the weapons, he hid them all across Ninjago. Ten years passed and the younger brother gained 5 apprentices to take it the mantle both he and his brother once held: as protectors of Ninjago. The older brother's son soon joined them after sacrificing a small portion of his youth to save the apprentices. Together, all six of them kept watch over Ninjago with their faithful teacher, the younger brother with them each step of the way. All was well- until the younger brother and the apprentices noticed some strange behaviours from the older brother's son that is.” Shade says with a grin as Chamille swallowed nervously.

“He would talk to himself, stare at something they couldn't see, whisper, laugh, nod… The younger brother had asked what had caught his attention but his nephew would always answer with 'nothing’ and continue doing what he was doing. The younger brother didn't think much of it and left him be. He would soon regret that decision. The charred remains of the red apprentice was found early one morning in the monastery's smithy, half in the forge. No-one heard him screaming or smelt the foul smell of burning flesh. With no signs of anything suspicious, they passed it off as a freak accident. The red apprentice's younger sister, the maroon apprentice was devastated. It was why when they found her body the next day, they passed it off as a suicide. She was laying at the bottom of the tub filled with water and without any signs of struggle, they couldn't think of anything else that could have happened. The blue apprentice became fearful and fled, all too afraid the same thing would happen to him. Two days later, the blue apprentice's own parents found his body where he was electrocuted beyond recognition. This was when the younger brother became fearful for his remaining apprentices and was suspicious of a curse. The white apprentice however, had seen something he shouldn't have. He was found frozen to death in the courtyard from the previous night's blizzard but he was able to leave a message before he was killed. The younger brother found the message detailing how his nephew, the older brother's son killed the blue apprentice and had most likely did the same to the others. The younger brother acted quickly for the sake of his last remaining apprentice- but found them too late. His nephew had buried the black apprentice alive. Grief stricken, he had asked his nephew why he had killed his friends but the boy only looked to the space next to him and asked what to do with him. To the younger brother's horror, his deceased brother appeared next to the boy and promised to take care of him himself. The bodies of the younger brother and his nephew were found on the floor of the Monastery together, as if they had both just laid down to sleep. There was no blood, no injury, no illness. They were just… Dead.” Shade whispered the last bit for dramatic effect.

“They says if you are foolish enough to come to the Monastery and if you listen well, you can hear the agonized screams of the red apprentice as he burned to death, the splashing of water as the maroon apprentice tries to reach the water's surface, the electricity arcing through the blue apprentice's body, the clattering of teeth as the white apprentice succumbed to the cold and the muffled sounds of the black apprentice choking on dirt.” Ash whispered, looking at the rest of the group seriously. “No-one has seen signs that the younger brother or his nephew are still around but the older brother lingers still. And those who have seen him are never seen again.” He says and Chamille whimpered, eyes wide.

“Or something like that.” Ash shrugged, taking another swig of bourbon.

“You guys are so lame. It's just a stupid story.” Tox huffed, looking across at a terrified Griffin and Chamille while Neuro and Skylor looked apprehensive.

“The details may be a little fudged over but it actually happened.” Shade spoke up. “There's record of it buried deep in Ninjago City. The records were brought forward by the mother of the son of the older brother. She was the one to find her son and his uncle's bodies. My dad has access to those records and I've seen them before. Apparently the younger brother himself told her of what happened on the anniversary of his death paired with the message he received from the white apprentice. She then returned here and jumped off the highest precipice and killed herself.” He says, leaning back against the wall.

“That coupled with the alarming amount of missing persons report all surrounding this place had officials forbidding anyone from coming here 10 years back.” He added.

“We were forbidden from coming to this death trap and you still thought it was a good idea to drag us all here?” Neuro hissed at the two.

“Hey, I didn't know we were coming here either.” Shade says, holding his hands up. “But I'm glad we did. Ghosts don't exist and all those people were paranoid. What most likely happened is that they all up and moved. Jamanakai village is nearby and everyone up and left after a particularly gruelling summer and frigid winter. The weather in this area tend to go to the extremes after all.” He shrugged.

“Can we not talk about all this scary stuff?” Griffin spoke up, his knuckles white on Chamille's arm.

“Y-yeah. Not that I'm scared of ghosts or anything.” Chamille says and Tox rolled her eyes.

“Wimps.” She huffed, swirling her vodka in the bottle.

“Why am I friends with them again?” Skylor asked herself with a sigh.

“I ask myself that daily.” Neuro says drily.

“It's best if we- the fuck?!” Skylor jolted, whipping around as she covered the back of her neck.

“What is it?” Neuro asked, looking behind them warily, checking if anything was there.

“I- I felt something hot blow on my neck…” She told him, the back of her neck still warm and her hair on end.

“That's not funny Skylor!” Griffin yelled at her, visibly shaking.

“Yeah, not cool Sky.” Chamille huffed and Shade rolled his eyes.

“I’m not-”

“Alright. This has gotten boring.” Ash spoke up, checking the time on his phone. “It’s still a little early but we're better off going to bed. The faster we fall asleep, the quicker morning comes, right?” He says, laying down in his sleeping bag.

“Agreed.” Neuro nodded, settling down as well, Skylor hesitantly following suit.

“But I haven't even eaten yet!” Tox protested but everyone else had picked a partner to stay especially close to and were all ready for the night to end. “Fine. But I'm not going to share tomorrow.” She huffed, laying down as well, rolling her eyes when Chamille shifted closer, Griffin right behind her.

Wimps.

It took a few minutes but soon, everyone was sound asleep.

______________

It's been a while, hasn't it?

It has.

Let's have some fun, shall we?

__________________________

(Eyyy it's ya weeb, back with another Ninjago horror story. Turns out I really like dark themes with Ninjago and whipped this up. I've seen a few people who want a part two for The Green Ninja and I love the story enough to work on another part. I'll post part two for it and this as soon as I'm done with them! Weeb out!)

[rain0205-blog]

Terminal State

Summary:  She tried leaving, submerging herself in work to escape the horrors she had seen. The horrors she kept seeing. She never wanted to go back to that life. But when the Empire takes her home, she’s forced to face her past. Can she move on? Can she cope? Or will she require a bit of help? still bad at summaries, still working on it. ever so slightly more than slight AU gadioxoc

Physchology

...

Day six. Athenacia woke up with the biggest hunger pang in the history of her life. Groaning, she wrapped her arms around herself to try and soothe the pains she felt there. The doctor also had this undying need to leave, no longer able to handle this sort of containment. It had been long enough and she was completely done with it, never liked being stuck in one place for too long anyway, not even sure how she managed it. Promise or not, she was done just sitting around on her hands helplessly, so she threw the covers off her with a purpose, noting the sky was still dark out. Her nightmare had her up earlier than usual but that didn't deter her in the slightest.

The physician walked into the bathroom to start her examination and healing process. There wasn't a notable difference, aside from maybe her eye was a little lighter on the black. Everything was external now so it could go it's natural course. Athenacia unwrapped her right hand to have a better look at it. The knuckles weren't broken but they were puffy and bruised. In the end she decided to speed up the process a little, internally cursing herself for giving away her gloves far too soon. It was a little sore but manageable at least. Shrugging, she started the shower, taking longer than she needed to. There was no more of this sitting around, she was determined to go outside today. Stepping out of the tub, she brought the towel around her slender frame, another towel for her hair and wiped off the mirror so she could see herself. At least with that hematoma, no one could see the dark circles she usually carried under her eyes. Skin was still pale though, nightmares leaving no chance for sleep. Sighing slightly at her appearance, she dried off herself off before pulling on her clothes, thin light blue jean capris with a rip on the left knee. Her shirt was also thin and dark blue coming down to her mid forearm. Athenacia wanted to hide as many of her injuries as she could, beginning the braid that would hide the rest of her neck scar. There was nothing she could do about the laceration on her face but at least she had most of it done. Giving herself one more look, she kicked her mess into a corner and then stepped out of the bathroom.

The sun had come up during her preparation for the day and Iris was beginning to stir. Athenacia walked to her bed and slipped on some socks before pulling on one of the pairs of boots she had bought nearly a week ago. They were brown, laced up to her knees with a buckle at the top and just before her ankle. The best part about them was the padding on the feet and she relished in it for a moment before standing from the bed. Just as she was going to walk to the door it began to open. The girl nearly groaned when Ignis had stepped through it, the look he was giving her speaking volumes.

"Don't you knock?" she asked pointedly.

"Forgive me but I hadn't heard movement and was certain you would be asleep. Going somewhere?" he asked with a brow raised.

"Yeah, I'm going outside. I don't care what you say or about your opinion, I've been stuck in this stupid room for a week and I'm going nuts. You are not going to stop me, I am fully ready and willing to fight you to get out of here," she replied, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

"You're more than welcome to leave the room," replied Ignis calmly.

Athenacia narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Is that so?"

"Certainly. Frankly, I'm shocked it's taken you this long to fight your containment."

"Are you serious?"

He nodded, "The Marshal assured me you'd be ready to move the minute you were no longer submissive."

The look she was giving was harder than before. The girl turned over the words in her head, growing angrier by the second. Both him and Cor had played her for a fool. Damn, he was good, she really had to keep her eye on him. Still, she growled, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"I hate psychology!" she cried.

...

Ignis accompanied the doctor outside of the hotel and down to the nearest restaurant where Gladiolus and Prompto were also sitting. There was no sign of Noctis and Athenacia knew that Iris was still in her bed. There were far more people outside than last time, given that it was a hot and humid sunny day. Anxiety wished to bubble up within her but she internally shrugged it off as hunger. And make no mistake, she was ravenous. The physician took her seat beside Gladio, across from Prompto who only smiled at her. The girl knew this place well from her war days, making a stop here for a decent night's sleep while on the road for weeks at a time. Most of all, she remembered the food.

"I want a peameal benedict, three eggs medium. I want three sausages as well on the side and a bowl of fruit. Also a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with a fruit smoothie. What did you guys want?" she looked at them expectantly.

Prompto had his mouth agape at her while Ignis looked mildly shocked. Gladiolus, on the other hand, had a knowing grin on his face and carefully placed his arm around her lower back so his hand rested on her left hip. Athenacia tensed at first but calmed herself down enough to relax her body, not wishing to deter him but she was still having a bit of trouble now that she had left the safety of her room. This is what she wanted, however.

"It seems your appetite has returned," stated Ignis once the rest had ordered.

"You're not really gonna eat all that are you?" asked Prompto.

"You bet she is," answered Gladiolus proudly.

"Perhaps you should refrain from overburdening your stomach," suggested Ignis politely.

"Iggy's right. I mean, where are you even going to put it all?" Prompto was still disbelieving.

"In my mouth. You both seem to be forgetting I'm a doctor who hasn't eaten in a week," she replied in a nonchalant manner.

"Then you can tend to your own illness," replied Ignis dryly.

"I mean if you can't finish something..." Prompto left it hanging.

Athenacia held up the butter knife and pointed it at him, "You will not touch my food or I will cut you. And remember, I'm well versed in the human anatomy so I can make it count even with this dull knife."

"I thought you were nice."

"Not when it comes to my food."

"Gladio!" whined Prompto.

"You heard the lady," Gladiolus shrugged, pulling her closer to him on the bench seat.

Athenacia felt a blush rise to her cheeks. After their walls fell yesterday there wasn't much uncertainty left between them. Harsh words were said ages ago and they had attempted to repair that damage before the tragic incidents had occurred. They spent all the time in between worrying about each other even if she was the only one who knew of his whereabouts. They never really thought about what would happen if they were put into the position that they were now, but they wanted to be around each other, even if they didn't get the chance to do so alone. Athenacia wanted to be close to him but was having trouble with his physical contact while Gladio just wanted reassurance that she was still his even if they hadn't really talked about it. The doctor had been on her own for so long and felt terribly exposed, however, if she didn't push past it then she would never get over it and she didn't want to hurt him anymore - not after yesterday.

Gladiolus kept his arm around her even when their food came and they began to eat. Athenacia made true on her promise and ate everything she had ordered. Prompto was still in shock, and even Ignis couldn't hide his own amazement, but Gladio knew what her eating habits were like and was relieved to see them back to normal. There were only minimal pieces of fruit left in a bowl but everything else was gone. The physician took the bill at her own insistence and looked far better than she had in days despite the cut on her cheek and purple eye.

"What happened to your hand?" asked Prompto.

They had risen from their seats, Athenacia intent on not going back to her hotel room just yet. So they walked toward the market, giving Ignis a chance to gather the last round of ingredients he may need. The girl had no desire to buy anything but just enjoyed the outside air. Gladiolus hovered close to her, noting she was a little tense when people bumped into her. Prompto was on her other side though he didn't really pick up on her uneasiness. It was something that one really had to look for and the Shield was in protective mood knowing that she was still healing.

"Ask his face," she jerked her head toward the towering man beside her.

"That's where that came from?"

"It almost hurt," Gladio shrugged.

"You really are thick headed."

"You willing to find out first hand?"

Athenacia laughed. At least nothing much had changed the dynamic between them. Prompto still did what he could to get a rise out of the big man and he responded as expected. They could still have some fun despite the trying time and it made her feel hope that she could return to normal one day. They continued their wandering, leaving the market and coming down to the streets toward the hospital. Ignis had decided that maybe today would be a good time to start making their way to Caem and no one was really all that reluctant to leave. The main reason they had remained in Lestallum was now no longer an issue, but she wanted to see Gin before she left. Athenacia knew that the woman wouldn't be able to go with them, too close to term she needed to stay near the hospital for any complications. The nurse was waiting for them outside the main doors, sweating with the heat all around her. That girl did not do warm weather well when she was carrying all that extra weight. Athenacia smiled at her friend as she left the safety of her escort and toward the woman wearing maroon scrubs. They even bore her name, signifying an essential part of the team now.

"You still look like shit, but a lot better than the first day," said Gin.

"At least I'm not waddling," replied Athenacia.

"That's only temporary."

"We'll see."

"So you guys are really leaving then?"

She nodded, "Time to go now that I can."

"You'll come visit though right?"

"When it is safe to do so," assured Ignis.

"You can't have my nephew without me," said Athenacia, placing her hand on the swollen womb.

"That's not up to me," Gin held her hands up.

Athenacia removed her hands and hugged her friend. When she was finished she gave one last rub and then stepped aside. Prompto came and knelt his head by Gin's baby.

"Have a good one, buddy," said the gunman.

"Do take care, my Lady," said Ignis politely, bowing his head.

"Are you sure I can't keep that one?" asked Gin, looking longingly over at the young doctor.

Athenacia just laughed.

"Maybe when we're done with him," replied Gladiolus. He placed his own massive hand on the pregnant woman's stomach, nearly covering it entirely, "Keep your mom in line," he said with a grin.

"Don't you listen to him, he's a troublemaker!"

With one last hug for the doctor, Gin bid them all farewell as they left the hospital area. Athenacia sighed a little sadly as she walked away, but least things would be safer without her wandering the streets and attracting unwanted attention. As they came back toward the line of street vendors where the cars drove through the city, Gladiolus was gone to procure his stash of cupped noodles. The doctor could only laugh as he enlisted Prompto's help with it. Ignis had gone two vendors down from where she stood and that left her alone on the street. Instinctively she put her hands across her body to hug herself, keeping her eyes everywhere, looking for her exits just in case she ran into someone she needed to get away from. Gladiolus and Prompto were easy to make a beeline for and Ignis would be the first to reach her should she need any sort of assistance. Exhaling deeply, she noted people were coming by and every sound had her eyes darting towards it. Anxiety bubbled within her but she held it together, trying to convince herself that she wasn't in danger, that safety was all around her.

Athenacia gasped, jumping out of reach of someone who had put a hand on her shoulder. The man she was faced with held up his hands in surrender, trying to show her that he wasn't going to hurt her. Pulse quickened, hammering in her chest while she fought with herself to control her breathing. Ignis was at her side in an instant, observing the stranger just as she was. The doctor could swear she had seen him before, piercing green eyes, messy untamed hair on the top of his head and an obscured scar hidden by his short black beard. He was taller than her, as most people were, but he was looking at her with concern at having startled her.

"I'm sorry," he said instantly, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"No, you wouldn't. But you're Athenacia, aren't you?"

"Depends on who's asking."

"I'm Jerem."

"I can't say I know any Jerem."

"I'm Tash's son, her youngest."

Immediately she tore her gaze away, looking down guiltily. Athenacia let out one deep breath, the image of Tash's body in the rubble coming to her mind. The image of her failure, of her friend who was counting on her.

"I'm sorry for your loss," said Athenacia, very aware of Ignis's eyes boring into the conversation.

"Gin told me. I just wanted to say thank you," replied Jerem.

She looked at him with a frown on her face, "For what?"

"For being a pain in her ass. She loved you like you were her own. She kept trying to get me to go to work with her and take you out. I just figured you were one of her dumb friends, pictures don't exactly tell the truth. But I bumped into you the other day, I thought it was you but I wasn't sure."

"I'm sorry I don't recall."

"Are you okay? That eye looks rough.'

"I'm fine, just an accident."

He nodded, "Well, I know it's kind of late and after the fact but... I mean maybe I should have listened to my mom. If you wanted to, that is?"

Was he seriously asking her out right now? Athenacia tried not to raise a brow, to show him the complete disbelief in his actions because she did not want to make him feel any worse than he already did after knowing he lost his mother. That didn't change the fact that she was caught off guard by this whole situation, having no idea that Tash was so pushy like this, nor that the woman even had pictures of her. This was the last thing she needed right now. Besides, she had other obligations.

"I-I can't, I'm sorry," she bit her lip, her eyes travelling over to Gladiolus.

The Shield was finishing up his purchase, totally oblivious to what she was up to. Athenacia let a gentle smile pass over her lips as she watched him before tearing her gaze away and back to the other man.

Jerem looked over as well, "Ah," he nodded in understanding, "Lucky guy. Hopefully, I'll see you around and thanks again for being there for my mom."

The physician didn't have a chance to respond, he was already leaving. It was a strange turn of events and she looked over at Ignis helplessly. The man kept his face neutral as he watched Jerem disappear, however, to her it was evident that this encounter didn't sit too well with him despite the man being a friendly face. There wasn't much time to speculate, the other two in their party joining them so that they could return to the hotel and make their final preparations.

...

Upon entering the room the boys were sharing, Iris was in there sitting quietly and Noctis was on the terrace. Instantly Gladiolus saw a dilemma. They were going to leave the city of Lestallum today and head toward Caem and he had something personal he had to do. Athenacia went to sit with the young girl while Prompto and Ignis began their packing. Noctis kept his gaze out toward the city, a bored expression on his face. The Shield walked out there, knowing that they had to resolve his personal issue somehow.

"Noct," he got the Prince's attention.

"What's up?" Noctis didn't move from his position.

Gladiolus started his pacing, up and down the terrace, "I got a problem."

"What is it?"

"Iris. I can't let her go it alone after everything that went down," the Shield came to lean his own arms on the balcony.

"You're forgetting something," chimed in Ignis.

"I'm not, I just haven't solved the problem yet."

"What problem?" asked Athenacia, perking up while Iris looked on curiously.

"The space in the car. No room for both of you in the back."

"They're not that big," said Prompto.

"But Gladdy is," replied Iris.

"Is it really that cramped back there?"

"Will be if we add even just one extra body," answered Noctis

"I have a truck," piped up Athenacia in a small voice, looking for an opening.

"Problem solved," said Prompto.

Noctis shrugged, "That didn't seem so hard."

Gladiolus nodded, "You guys take Iris. I'll follow with her truck."

"Sounds good."

"Are you packed?" asked Ignis, looking at the two women.

They both shook their heads, getting up to walk back toward the room they were sharing. Athenacia let Iris step in first before walking to the bathroom and gathering up anything she had left in there. Everything was tossed on the bed, noting that as time went on she was only gathering more and more things. The doctor packed up her toiletries, put her dirty clothes in a separate bag and somehow managed to fit her spare boots in there. Old habits really did die hard, zipping it up and placing it on her left shoulder so as not to agitate her healing wound. Athenacia then double checked her med bag to make sure that everything there was where she needed it. Lastly, she pulled out her sheathed weapon from underneath the bed. Iris seemed to have far less stuff but waited patiently for the other woman to be ready. Finally, Athenacia nodded, taking one last drink of her water bottle before walking through the open door courtesy of the young Amicitia. They made their way down the stairs and through the lobby toward the outside of the hotel. The men were waiting there, all of them ready to go as well. All of them journeyed to the parking lot, Iris actually excited to be going on an adventure with them. Athenacia, of course, knew that she was really happy about being so close to the Prince without her big brother looming over them. Too bad the young man was totally oblivious to the young girl's affections.

They reached the Regalia and packed up their things sans the doctors. Athenacia held onto her two bags and sheathed weapon, waiting patiently for them to be finished their preparations to leave. Ignis got in the driver's seat at the insistence of the Shield, who promised to tear off the arms of anyone else who drove. The physician did her best to contain her smile at the protective big brother and the light in Iris's eyes when she sat next to Noctis.

"My truck is back there. Ugly as sin not hard to spot," said Athenacia.

Ignis nodded, "Don't stray too far."

"I got this," replied Gladiolus.

The two of them went to the light blue truck parked on the other side of the lot. Athenacia tossed the keys at him and he caught them effortlessly. Grunting, she yanked open the door, a little stuck, and placed her things on the ground. Gladiolus bumped his knees on the steering wheel, instantly putting the seat back as far as it would go. Athenacia climbed in as well, shutting the door and heaving a sigh. The Shield looked around the truck with a smirk on his face. There was garbage littered all around the floor, crushed cans and containers probably starting to mould. There was also some dirty laundry in the mix. One quick look at the bed and he noted the piles of garbage back there as well and he was sure that some of it had flown away while she drove. There was also bedding in a bin that was strapped to the bed to stop it from blowing in the wind. When he was done his observation he looked at her with a brow raised.

"What?" she asked, catching his gaze.

"You've barely had this thing and it's messier than your apartment," he laughed at her.

"Well I don't exactly have a home," she huffed, crossing her arms and looking out the window.

"Sure Doc, you're not a slob," he continued to laugh.

"If you don't like it you can go in your fancy car and I'll drive my own truck."

Gladio only grinned as he started the engine despite her looking back at him with a pointedly.

"That's what I thought," she said triumphantly.

'You're a slob," he said one last time, before taking off after the Regalia.

"I'm homeless, there's a difference."

"Homeless people have less trash piles than you."

She scoffed, "Like you would know Mr. Overly Privileged. I bet you never cleaned up after yourself."

"Listen you, keep talking like that and I'll kick you out of this truck."

"It's my truck."

"You're welcome to fight me for it."

"Clearly you don't remember what happened to your jaw."

"Lucky shot. Won't happen again."

"I can't believe that the ego on you has gotten worse."

"You knew what you were getting into," he grinned at her again, "You can't resist it."

Athenacia giggled at him despite herself and looked down shyly when she met his brief gaze. Biting her lip in order to hide her nerves, she sneaked her small hand into free one and he held it firmly, glancing at her once more before going back towards the road. The girl didn't know why she was afraid to initiate contact with him, it's not like he was going to pull away but at least things between them were starting become more normal, like before. Smiling lightly, she hesitantly moved toward him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Gladio gave her a reassuring squeeze and she placed her injured hand on top of the one she was holding. Letting out a small breath, she felt better about breaking out of her shell, at ease for the first time in a while since the city had fallen. It wasn't long before she was dozing off, squeezing him tighter when she began to dream.

[thedyslexicbard]

The father Daughter Dance

Request:Hi so I was wondering if you could do Steve x bucky x daughter reader? I've been trying to find ones like this but nothing comes up.

A/N: sure thing i love the idea of this not going to lie i low key ship stucky really hard and the thought of these beans having a kid makes me happy Enjoy @madixmarvelthings :)

Gif not mine

 Bucky, Steve and Y/N sat at the table, “so, the father daughter dance is at school this Friday” Steve was the first to speak he was calm that was a bad sign. Bucky looked between Steve and Y/N

“I guess” Y/N replied pushing her cereal around the bowl, Bucky’s hand squeezed into tight fists on his knees as he prepared to speak

“so who are you going to take” Bucky blurted a bead of sweat rolled down his face as he made eye contact with his husband who’s eyebrow was raised.

“i wasn't planning on going because it will end up with you two smothering me for the chance to go to the school dance with me, don’t get me wrong i love you guys so much but i’ll feel so bad only taking one of you to the dance whilst the other stays at home moping into a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Star carameled man with peanut butter and jam” Y/N took a mouthful of cereal as Bucky and Steve soaked in what she said.All three of them at in silence apart from the crunching of cornflakes, Bucky was the first to stand followed by Y/N “im going to school see you later” she left the Brooklyn apartment heading to school.

__________________

“well Well WELL if it isn't Y/N Barnes the Daughter of the 100 year old Psycho and the man with a plan  which dad are you bringing to the dance this Friday” Heather mocked walking towards Y/N locker 

“whats it to you?”

“i just wanted to see if you would actually bring your psycho father to a middle school dance is all” heather pouted as her goons giggled but Y/N ignored the 6th grader and headed towards her class fighting the urge to punch Heather in the face.

As the school day went on more and more of Y/Ns friends asked if she was going to the school dance and what she was wearing with each question asked Y/N could feel a weight of guilt bearing down on her. she really wanted to go to the dance but its the guilt she would have to bear leaving either pops or Dad  home alone. 

“ah Miss Barns im glad i caught you i was wondering will both of your fathers be attending the dance” it was Y/N favorite teacher Mrs Taylor that snapped her out of her trance

“oh hey Mrs Taylor, i thought only one could come” 

“Y/N don’t be silly its the father daughter dance and it says in the invite all father must attend” Mrs Taylor smiled as she watched Y/N light up 

______________________

“IM HOMEEEEE!!!” Y/N shouted as she entered the flat “hello? Dad?, Pops?” Y/N let her bag drop from her shoulder as she slowly walked from the safty of the hall to her fathers Steve and Bucky having a nurf fight in the living room 

“your going down punk” Bucky shouts from behind the sofa

“not today jerk” steve smirks from the kitchen as Y/N stood in shock as the battle went on  until a dart hit her in the face 

 “ow come on guys why are you doing this” she rubbed her forehead 

“heyy doll” Bucky ran towards Y/N aid “look at what you did Steve this is why i should go to the dance with her” 

“What?! its not my fault you shot first” steve ran towards his daughter and husband 

“can you two just stop fighting for 2 minuets! how long have you been at this?” Both men were silent as Y/N walked to the kitchen table to still see the invitation and her empty cereal bowl on the table “really? you have been fighting over this all day?”

Bucky and Steve looked at each other bucky biting his lip “so how was school” steve tried to change the subject 

“it was okay i found out that you both can come to the dance on friday but after this little stunt you pulled” she gestured to the war torn flat covered in orange darts “ill think if you two are mature enough to handle a school dance” 

____________________-

Friday Night 

“well Ladies and Gentlemen it has come to the final dance so head on to the dance floor” the DJ announced, Bucky walked up to Steve and Y/N grabbing her hand 

“may i have this dance” she smiled  as the song started “i requested this one just for us kiddo” Y/N smiled as she recognized the tune it was We’ll meet again by vera Lynn

“you remembered” 

“i never forget my favorite gals song”

_________________

i hope you like it  :) Requests are still open peeps 

[boylesharon]

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[julez-the-great]

Lost--Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

You trudged through the desert of Tattooine, sweating profusely and becoming dizzy. Sleep was so tempting at the moment–it would give you relief from the pounding that was occurring in your head–but you stuck on your path to find civilization. The fine sand was difficult to walk through and you had to be extremely careful as not to fall into a Sarlacc Pit. The day was coming to an end as you decided to stop for the night, the two sun’s beginning to touch the horizon.

Your camp was nothing spectacular, but you knew that it was great for its easy mobility. You had a small tent, along with a blanket, a water jug, and some food to last you through your journey. You were lucky that these items were on your ship, or else you knew you wouldn’t survive.

Climbing inside the tiny tent, you layed out your blanket and placed your empty water jug in the corner and you held onto your food rations, staring at the last bite of food that you had. Your stomach grumbled loudly, aching for something in your stomach. This was the bite that you were holding out on most–it had been days since you’ve had anything to eat. Slowly opening the bag, you took the morsel and popped it into your mouth, savoring this last bite of food.

Next, you placed your backpack ahead of your blanket to use as your pillow. This had been the routine ever since you had to make an emergency landing on this desert wasteland. If only you would have refueled when you were supposed to, then this situation wouldn’t be happening–you’d be on Bothawui, not suffering alone in the middle of no where.

Your mouth watered slightly at the thought of any type of liquid entering your body. You’d finished the jug earlier this afternoon and your body was beginning to show the signs of dehydration. You sighed, laying back onto the floor of the tent, allowing yourself to drift to a peaceful, painless slumber.

–

When you woke up, the suns were just peeking above the dunes. Immediately, you packed up your stuff, pushing them into you backpack and slinging onto your shoulders. Walking forward, you began your day, determined to find anyone that could help you out.

It seemed like the dunes kept on going and going, the suns were now high in the sky, directly beating down on you. The dizziness became more intense and your headache began its attempt to crack through your skull. Nausea washed over you and you tried holding back the vomit, knowing that it was accelerate your rate of dehydration. You failed when you lurched forward and expelled the little amount that was in your stomach. You groaned–you were in pain and your hope was beginning to dwindle down.

“Why am I so stupid,” you said breathlessly, stumbling back into the direction you were going. You continued for about two more hours before you collapsed, your body not able to handle the heat anymore. The sand cushioned you and supported every curve around your body, molding to you. Comfort came from the soft touch it gave and your eyes began to grow heavy.

“No, I need to continue,” you stated dryly, trying to crawl your way to safety. Eventually, you passed out in the sand, letting the sun roast you like a tauntaun steak over a hot fire.

–

Soft cries awoke you from your peaceful slumber. You looked around to see that you were in a hut, more specifically you were laying on a soft bed inside of a hut. You sat up quickly dizziness overtaking your mind. You mouth was dry and your limbs ached.

“Oh, hello there,” said a dapper looking man with a nicely trimmed beard and clean looking hair. In his arms he held a small baby–a newborn from your experience around your small village.

“H-” you tried to speak but your dry mouth and unused vocal chords were betraying you. You scooted so your back was leaning against the wall for support.

“Here, drink this,” he said, handing you a cup of liquid in which you assumed was water. Taking it greatfully, you gulped it down, allowing it to soother your throat. A small chuckle came from your savior.

“Good thing I got to you when I did, or else you would be dead by now. Are you hungry, you’re looking pretty thin,” he said, observing the tunic that hung loosely from your body. You looked down at yourself and notuced that your weight surely was down. You nodded quickly, causing him to laugh some more.

“Alright, can you hold Luke while I go whip something up? I haven’t been able to get him to his uncle’s house yet,” he asked holding the baby out to you. You nodded, smiling and holding out your arms. Carefully, this man placed who he called Luke into your arms, making sure that he wasn’t awoken from his sleep once more.

“My name’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, by the way,” the man said before walking away, allowing you to study the room around you.

The walls looked very plain and on the floor was a small red rug. A small coffee table was placed in front of a couch and a vase with a plant laid beside the couch. In fact, the bed you were in wasn’t even in a room–it was just a little nook set in the living room of this hut, giving you a wide view of the majority of the house.

Moments later, Obi-Wan appeared with a tray of food and several cups filled with water, your stomach rumbled and your eyes grew wide, examining all of the food that was on the tray. He placed the tray in your lap as you handed the infant back to him. Carefully you over the cups over to the bedside table and then began eating. Most of this food was foreign to you, but you didn’t care–the only thing that mattered in this moment was your hunger. As soon as you were done with your meal you began to pound back the water, only stopping when you were so full of food and water. Only one filled cup out of five was left.

“Well, I guess you were hungry. How long were you out there for? Two weeks?” He asked you, sitting in a chair in front of the bed.

“It was a little less than two weeks, actually. I’m not used to heat and I was very ill prepared for this situation,” you said, chuckling nervously. Your voice was hoarse, but now you were able to speak at will. “The name’s (f/n) (l/n).”

“Well, (y/n), I guess it’s nice to meet you. I wish the circumstances were better but this will be a nice story for the future, don’t you think?” He said, causing you to chuckle softly. You nodded, looking around the room some more, you spotted a light saber.

“You’re a jedi?” You asked him excitedly. A sad smile came across his face as he looked down at the baby in his arms who was beginning to wake up.

“I was, but things are different now,” he solemnly said, causing a frown to replace your smile. The last thing you wanted to do was to make your savior feel down. “But anyway, where are you from and why are you here?”

“I from Hoth,” you said quietly, a yawn escaping your system. “And I’m here because I was low on fuel.”

“I can see now, you’re not used to this heat and you came unprepared for the desert,” he chuckled, standing up. “I’m going to drop this little guy off and you make yourself at home.”

“Alright,” you said, watching as he left the hut with the small infant in his hands. Yawning once more, you laid down in the bed, falling into another rest filled slumber.

–

It was morning when you woke up again. Sitting up, you had the urge to pee a river. You stood quickly, looking around the hut for a bathroom. Obi-Wan was nowhere to be seen and you began panicking, not knowing your way around this place.

“Why, good morning, (y/n),” he said, Emerging from the stairs, wearing a fresh pair of clothes and drinking a mug of hot coffee. “The bathroom and kitchen is up those stairs.”

“Thank you,” you said calmly, rushing up the five steps and into the kitchen. Going to left and around the corner, you saw the bathroom.

After emerging, you saw Obi-Wan holding a fresh pair of pants and a tunic, holding it out to you.

“I figured you’d want a fresh change of clothes after a shower so I bought these on the way home last night. Hopefully they fit,” he said, pushing you back into the bathroom.

You stood in front of the tub, trying to figure out how to work the shower. Twisting the knob to the right, you felt ice water hit your hand so you moved it more left, until the temperature was perfect. Stripping of your sweaty, sand infested clothes, you stepped into the soothing water that fell down on you, a smile coming to your face as you felt your tense muscles relax and your stress melt away.

–

The clothes that Obi-Wan had bought you fit for the most part–he was a good judge of size from appearance. The white tunic fit like a glove while the black pants were only slightly too big. You jumbled your dirty clothes together and stepped out of the bathroom, walking down the stairs and stuffing them into your backpack which rested on one of the many tables in this hut.

“So what was your ultimate destination?” He asked you, causing you to jump. You quickly turned to the Jedi, facing him.

“Bothawui, actually. I’ve always wanted to go there for some reason. I guess you can say I was drawn to it,” you told him honestly, shuffling your feet and fiddling with your hands. He smiled.

“Does it feel as though something is pulling you there?” He quizzed some more, his smile growing larger when you nodded.

“This is the force that you feel. It wants you to go there some day,” he said, causing your ears to perk and your eyes to widen.

“So are you saying that I could use the force?” You asked him excitedly. His smile continued to grow, watching your excitement.

“With training. That is, of course, if you want it. However, I do warn that you must remain on the down low–the Jedi order is no more,” Obi-Wan said, his smile shrinking. You raised your eyebrows in shock.

“What do you mean?” You asked him, watching as he looked at the stone flooring. 

“Anakin, my former padawan, turned to the dark side and wiped out most of the Jedi,” he said, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach. “In my opinion, I suggest that you stay away from the force–it’d be for the better.” 

“I guess I’ll listen to you on that then. But can you tell me more about the Jedi and the force? I’ve never really been told about it,” you asked, hoping that he would at least acknowledge this request. He smiled and sat on the couch, patting the spot beside him for you to sit beside him. Obliging, he began to tell you the stories of the Jedi and the force. 

–

Many years later, you and Obi-Wan Kenobi married, had a son–who is now living on his own as an independent fifteen year old–and settled down with your lives. That is, until Obi-Wan was whisked away by that baby you had met years ago. When he left, he had told you that he wouldn’t be coming back and you were at peace with that fact, knowing that you both had lived out the best days of your lives. 

“May the force be with you, Obi-Wan. Until I see you again,” you said, watching as he left your hut to begin his final adventure. 

[rufousnmacska]

Goodbye and Hello - 6

Manon and Dorian say goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time. 

fanfic master list on tumblr, and everything on AO3

previous chapters

Part One: I Wish…

Part Two: Another Day

Part Three: Those Two Words

Part Four: Breakfast in Bed

Part Five: Waiting

***

Part Six: Confessions (smut warning)

The seasons at the Ferian Gap were characterized more by the presence or absence of storms than changes in temperature. Lethal snow squalls signified winter and cloudbursts the summer, with the two separated by brief stints of pleasant and mild weather. Manon and Dorian were visiting at the tail end of fall. In just a week, they’d felt the air grow more frigid, noticed the daylight shorten, and watched the frost cover more ground each morning. The winter storms were fast approaching.

Despite the chill, there were a few sheltered valleys tucked into the steep slopes of the Fangs and Ruhnns, valleys that were still home to meadows and fields with a few late blooms clinging to life. As Manon guided Abraxos to what she’d come to think of as his meadow, she worried that it might be too late to find any flowers for him to enjoy. Luckily, it was one of the protected spots that had been spared a killing frost.

She’d kept it a surprise, but he knew the terrain, quickening his wing beats when she nudged him in its direction. Once he saw it, a few spots of brilliant color scattered among the drying grass, he released a long soft howl. Manon felt Dorian laugh against her back, and when Abraxos landed, they hastily dismounted to avoid being pulled under as he rolled on the ground.

The sun broke through the morning cold enough that they spent the entire day there, watching Abraxos roll and sleep and sigh in his meadow. Her wyvern’s bliss seemed to rub off on Manon. She marveled at it, having never thought it would be something she’d experience.

Opening up to Dorian about the Thirteen had seemed like an immense obstacle, a thing to force herself to do. Instead, it felt natural and instinctive, and something she should have done before now. Even if “before now”, she wouldn’t have had the words.

The long-worn bandage of grief had been torn free the night before with Orghana. The pain and hesitation remained, but it was noticeably muted. Most of her words had already been spoken aloud. Those that had not - the nightmares, the anger, the guilt – came a little more easily . She’d even given voice to the absolute worst feelings, telling Dorian about the dark nights she wished for nothing more than to rejoin her coven.

Dorian listened, reassured, and added his own insights when he could. His sorrow from losing them made her feel not so alone. He mourned the same witches she did. That he was healing from the loss of Sorscha and his father gave her a much needed boost of hope.

Now, back at their room in the Omega, Manon closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of the bathtub. The water grew steadily warmer. She’d done little that day, certainly not enough to warrant the sigh she released as the heat penetrated her muscles.

“I was worried that Abraxos would be spoiled here,” she said. “Apparently, I was the one in danger all along.”

Dorian laughed softly. “That was my only goal this week. You didn’t stand a chance.”

They sat at either end of the huge copper tub. Steam rose off the water, filling the room with the scent of the herbs and petals floating on the surface. Instead of candles, Dorian lit the room with his magic. Flames of varying size and color hung suspended in the air. A half empty plate of pastries and a kettle of Qara’s molten chocolate drink were within easy reach.

Water lapped gently against the sides of the tub as Dorian shifted towards her. She kept her eyes closed but couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“Manon.”

The tone of his voice was serious, no hint of seduction or teasing. Her smile faded, and she opened her eyes to find he’d moved beside her, still face to face. His expression matched his tone and she sat up, unsure of what might be coming.

“There’s something I need to say.”

An inexplicable panic rippled through her and Manon had to force herself to stay seated. With all his attention on her, Dorian noticed. He reached under the water and took her hands in his. Their faint trembling eased in his grip.

“I’ve been thinking about some things lately and…” He trailed off, his eyes unable to meet hers.

Manon’s stomach sank. Either this was very bad, or he was going to tell her something she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear.

“That night. In the Fangs.” He gave her a heavy, knowing look. “When you asked me to stay.”

That’s putting it mildly, she thought, the tension within her changing but not dissipating.  To him though, she only said, “And you went to Morath. You don’t need to-”

“I do,” he said. “I know you understand what was at stake. And I know you would have done the same thing. You did do the same thing, for your people. But that doesn’t mean that I handled it well. I don’t regret going. But I do regret how I went.”

Manon was silent. She had nothing to add. He was right. She would have, would still, sacrifice herself, or her desires, if it meant a chance to save her people. She couldn’t even argue that he’d gone in ill-prepared. Learning how to shape shift, picking up details about Morath from anyone who’d been there, training with Sorrel and the rest of the Thirteen, perfecting his magic… He’d done it all to get the last wyrd key.

And he’d been successful. What more was there to say?

“Looking back on it, I realize how selfish it was. Hiding my plans from you. Pushing you to admit you cared about me.” There was a long pause before he said, “Leaving without saying goodbye. I’m sorry, Manon.”

Again, she said nothing, just stared at him. There were no lies or ulterior motives visible on his face. He was an open book, laid out bare before her, easy to read.

When she’d discovered him with Kaltain, discussing how he might infiltrate Morath, she’d only allowed her anger to come to the fore. Letting him see how she really felt hadn’t been an option. The anger masked the hurt and betrayal, the foolishness she felt for thinking he’d never lie to her. Maybe he had seen it that night though. For as much as he was an open book to her, she was never very good at hiding her feelings from him.

A shiver ran through her and she realized the water was getting cold, a sign of how long she’d been sitting there without speaking. Immediately, a rush of warmth pulsed through it as Dorian reheated it with his magic.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do all that and then leave? Why keep it from me? I didn’t want you to go, and I had my own responsibilities. But if you’d asked me, I could have helped somehow.”

The anger she felt this time was not covering anything else up and it was a relief to release. As if these thoughts had been slowly boiling inside her, always churning under the surface. With the lid now open, they poured out of her.

“Instead, you let me think you’d given up your search. You let me think that if I asked-” She stopped short and took a shaky breath. With barely restrained emotion, she growled, “If I asked you to stay, there was a chance you would. You let me think you’d said yes.”

Dorian flinched at her words. Offering no excuse, no argument, he said, “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she repeated, her voice choked and raw. The fire of moments ago was gone, leaving a numb ache.

“Because I wanted to stay. I wanted to say yes. Because if you had gone with me, and something happened to you…” Dorian exhaled, his breath pooling in the now freezing air. The magical flames flickered as if blown by a real breeze. “I knew that if I’d said goodbye to you that morning, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to leave.”

“You were afraid.”

“Yes,” he said with a humorless laugh. “I was terrified. Not just about going to Morath. I was afraid of how I felt about you, Manon. If you’d gone with me and I was faced with a choice between saving your life or the rest of Erilea…”

“You would have chosen Erilea,” she answered for him.

He shook his head slightly. “I wasn’t so sure of that. But I was sure that I was done running. From my country, my responsibilities.” He smiled dryly. “My intentions may have been noble and kingly. The execution was anything but. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Manon didn’t know how to reply to that. He was still holding her hands, squeezing them with a fierce intensity that matched his eyes. Everything he said was the truth. She knew it because as before, if their roles had been reversed, she would have felt the same way, done the same things.

Hadn’t she already? Her sadness and grief kept her from replying to his letters, along with her duties as queen. But there was a deeper fear hidden under the sorrow that kept her from reaching out to him. One she’d never understood, had never truly been confronted with, until that day in Orynth when her sisters were no more. One she absolutely refused to think about right now.

Instead, she replayed that night over and over in her head. How he’d been surprised by her offer, how he’d made the excuse that she would never be happy in that kind of arrangement. Now, she could clearly see that the excuse had served to make his leaving easier not just on her, but him as well.

***

Dorian watched her consider everything, patient and quiet. At least, he was that way on the outside. Inside he was roiling with so many emotions he might explode.

He’d been an idiot. Childish and arrogant when he’d made her admit to having feelings for him. In any other circumstance, one in which he wasn’t leaving to possibly sacrifice his life, it might not have been a problem. He would have reveled in the knowledge that this witch cared for him. A part of him had. But he’d already made the choice of duty over desire by then. Which made his actions all the more selfish.

Distractedly, he thought about Morath. About how he’d pushed Manon and her confession, her proposal, into the farthest reaches of his mind. Not only to keep him from turning back, but to keep Maeve from realizing her importance to him.

The valg queen had suspected. Which proved to be lucky for him. His lapse in control when she’d offered herself to Erawan in Manon’s form had been dismissed by Maeve. Dorian still didn’t know how he’d managed to keep a lid on his rage and magic in that moment. Obtaining the final wyrd key had been the only thing keeping him sane in those days and nights in the hell of Morath.

Now, he continued to watch Manon. She had pulled her legs up to rest her arms and chin on her knees. There was none of the lethal killer visible. No bloodthirsty witch, no powerful queen. Only a person he loved and had hurt, trying to decide if she would forgive him. He kept the water warm and would do so until their skin turned wrinkled and soggy.

But he didn’t have to wait that long.

Her eyes flicked up at him and Manon finally spoke. “You could have left a note.”

Her voice was soft, but Dorian didn’t dare let himself think she had accepted his apology. Until she shifted and began to move towards him.

Watching her warily, he released a breath as she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved into his lap. The water barely rippled, so smooth were her movements.

“I didn’t have any paper or ink,” he said, sliding his arms around her waist.

“And what’s the point of having raw magic if you can’t conjure those things?”

“That’s not how it works,” he replied, trying not to let her position atop him become a distraction. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Manon tilted her head and smiled. “Perhaps.” She shifted again, this time locking her legs around his torso. Ducking her head, she ran her tongue up the side of his neck to nibble on his earlobe.

Dorian moaned, then whispered roughly in her ear, “I want to hear you say it.”

She sat upright to look into his eyes. “I accept your apology.”

Something deep inside him eased at her words, at the light in her eyes. Manon took his face in her hands, leaned forward, and kissed him.

He was perilously close to losing his mind as they kissed. Vaguely, he had a thought that the bathtub wasn’t the best place for this. It had been fine for some of their couplings over the past week. But not tonight. Not on their last night together.

Dorian pushed himself off the side of the metal tub. With her legs still around him, her lips still on his, he tried to stand. He broke their kiss to mumble, “Hold on.” Manon laughed quietly in his ear as she tightened her grip with both her arms and legs.

Easing his way up slowly so he didn’t fall and kill them both, Dorian stood and sat on the edge of the basin, then swung his feet around to stand. With his magic, he wicked away the water from their bodies and hair, earning an impressed hum from Manon.

“I still think you could have magicked a paper and pen,” she teased before returning to their kiss.

Carrying her to the bed, Dorian made some noise of agreement. He really couldn’t create things from thin air, but he had no desire to argue with her. His desire was focused elsewhere.

She hadn’t loosened her hold on him, so with each step, she moved against him. Each touch threatened to overwhelm him, but he managed to get them to the bed. Laying her down, invisible hands pulled her arms up over her head, stretching her out before him, while his real fingers joined his tongue and began to explore.

Manon writhed beneath him as he moved away from her mouth and traveled slowly down her body. She pushed lightly against his hold on her hands, annoyed that she couldn’t touch him. Dorian looked up from where he was lazily kissing her inner thigh and gave her a warning glance. When she bared her iron teeth at him, he grinned and began teasing her with the tip of his tongue.

Her breathy moans were almost enough to send him over the edge. When he added his fingers to the spot he was kissing, she came almost immediately. Reluctantly, he left his place between her legs and looked at her. The sight of her golden eyes glazed over, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath, her hair tangled under her head… Dorian had intended to draw this out, but he had little willpower when it came to her.

Lifting her hips up, he positioned himself above her, teasing her entrance until she was moaning again. When the fog of her pleasure had faded and her eyes were focused clearly on him, Dorian eased into her, lowering himself to press completely against her body. Craving her touch, he released her hands. They quickly found his hair, then his back, then lower, as she pulled him against her, rocking her hips in time with his.

Feeling the sharp points of her teeth graze his neck, Dorian groaned her name, encouraging her to keep going. With a swift movement, she scored his skin and licked at the slow trickle of blood. As she began to drink from the slight wound, he felt her muscles tense and clench around him. Breaking the seal on his skin, Manon threw her head back as she came again.

She’d admitted to him this week that she’d never tasted a human like him before. His blood lacked the watery fear and weakness of the others. Dorian played it off as a result of his raw magic, but she’d said no. While she could taste his power, there was a charge that had nothing to do with magic. His flavor was utterly unique. And one she now craved.

The thought, combined with the movements of her hips and her hands and her tongue and her everything, sent him falling over the edge with her.

***

As she watched him begin to doze off, Dorian’s apology and confession replayed through Manon’s mind.

Like a fan to a flame, his words seemed to kindle her emotions, enhancing what was already there and bringing life to new ones she couldn’t yet describe. One thing he’d said kept resurfacing in her thoughts.

“You really wanted to say yes?” she asked, so quietly, she thought maybe he wouldn’t hear her.

But his eyes, with their thick, black lashes, slowly opened. She was only beginning to keep track of the changing shades of blue revealed by different lighting. Right now, they were a deep gray-blue, made darker by desire, not just the low candlelight.

“So much that it scared me.”

Manon nodded faintly in understanding, knowing there was no insult or slight in his reply.

He took her hand, tracing her fingers with his own. “I was young when my mother began to plan for my marriage. She loved flaunting daughters of nobles around in front of me. And vice versa,” he added with a sigh.

“That sounds pleasant.” He laughed in agreement, continuing to play with her hand. The feather light touch of his fingers was beginning to drive her to distraction.

“The short story is, I’ve had a long time to think about what kind of woman I’d want to marry.” Hesitation crossed his face as he eyed her. “I wanted to marry someone who was my equal,” he finally said. “Not a woman who was only interested in the crown or the riches. And not someone who saw only the fairy tale and not me.”

“That seems reasonable,” she said.

“You’d think so,” he said. “My mother disagreed. And maybe she was right in a way. It’s obvious now that I was limiting myself in one crucial way.”

She knew few details about his healer turned spy, but she imagined the woman met all of those requirements.

“I never thought I’d find those things with a witch,” he said.

Something tightened in her gut. “What about Sorscha?” she heard herself ask.

Sadness flickered in his eyes. But just sadness. Before, in those weeks spent searching for the Crochans, she’d seen the guilt creep over his face sometimes when he’d look at her. It had taken her a while to figure out what caused it. Even after realizing it was because of the healer, she ignored it. Or, tried to. There were times when an inexplicable hurt filled her upon seeing it.

There was no guilt now. In fact, there hadn’t been this entire week.

“She is gone,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I loved her and I still miss her. But…” He smiled. “But I think there may have been a bit of a fairy tale quality to it. On both our parts. It was no less real. Just naive.”

“And I’m less breakable.” Her intent was to lighten the moment, but she regretted the words the moment they left her lips.

“No, “ he said. “You see me. You have seen me since the moment we met. The good and the bad. And you’ve never once judged me.”

She found herself nodding again. Yes, they challenged each other, disagreed and argued. But there was always a sense of acceptance underlying it all.

A sudden shyness overtook Dorian, an expression she had never witnessed on him before. Looking at her through those long lashes, he smiled and said, “I haven’t been with anyone else since I met you. There’s no one else I want. Only you, Manon. I’m not saying we should get married, and I don’t expect you to feel the same or say anything back-”

She pressed her fingers against his lips, and he stopped talking, his eyes turning wary.

“There’s been no one else for me either, and there won’t be,” Manon said. “Only you.”

He smiled against her fingertips then kissed them, relief radiating from him like heat. “We leave tomorrow, and the only way I will be able to get through saying goodbye is if you promise to write.”

Manon feigned an annoyed sigh and tried to think of an acceptable excuse. She was not a letter writer. No matter who it was to. But no excuse came. Dorian watched her struggle and bit back a laugh.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You will be inundated with boring letters about grain storage and building construction and all the other things that fill my days.”

His eyes glimmered. “I can’t wait.”

 ***

Manon threw her bags on the floor and fell onto her bed. The flight home had been uneventful but tiring. She’d ignored all the witches who’d approached her when she entered the keep, stopping only briefly to hug Glennis and tell her she’d be back to official business tomorrow. Her great-grandmother had squeezed her tightly, a smile on her face and eyes bright.

In the quiet and darkness of her room, Manon realized how much she had missed the crone. Next time, perhaps she would take Glennis with her.

A burst of cold air blew through her shabby window and Manon sat up. The breeze carried a scent she recognized. Looking around, she noticed a small wooden box sitting next to her bed.

As she opened it, other scents, these much more familiar, filled the air.

The first thing she saw was a folded piece of paper that had Read me first written on it. Smiling, she opened it.

Dear witchling,

To ensure you keep your promise to write, I’ve enclosed some paper and envelopes. They are already addressed and the headings have been written, so most of the work has been done for you. All you need to do is fill in the blank part of the page. You can write, draw, scribble. I don’t care. Just as long as you reply, I will be pleased.

I asked Qara to spare a few pastries as well. You will find them under the stationery. I can only hope Altai has delivered this quickly enough that they are still edible. Included is her recipe for the chocolate pastry. You should know. She does not give out her recipes to just anyone. And only after I told her it was for you did she relent. If you cannot find someone there to replicate it, Qara said to send for her. 

I miss you already. And already I am counting the days until our next meeting.

Always yours,

Dorian

Underneath was a stack of envelopes addressed to the King of Adarlan. Each piece of paper bore his writing. To my dearest princeling.

Manon laughed and sat it all aside. As she ate one of the pastries, careful not to get chocolate on the stationery, she wondered when he’d arranged for all of this to be sent. Making her agree to write must have been his plan for a long time.

She wished there was something she could send him, a memento or gift that would hold special meaning. She didn’t need to glance around her room to know there was nothing there that would do.

But then…

A thought came to her. One that simultaneously filled her with excitement and dread. Something he would love and treasure. But something she would need to return to Blackbeak Keep to obtain.

Maybe this was a sign, she thought, licking her fingers clean. She didn’t know what she’d find there, but she needed to go. Needed to gather what might remain of her Thirteen, and what might help her new kingdom grow.

   To be continued…

 Thanks for reading and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know :)

[breaktimewritings]

Warmth II Chapter Three

Chapter One I Chapter Two

AO3

“I uh...I suppose I should have realized who you were by your nickname.”

Her voice broke through the silence that had drifted over them after they ordered their tea. Gold raised a brow at her, the confusion of her statement penetrating his nerves.

“Nickname?”

“Your pseudonym. Jefferson called you ‘Rumpelstiltskin.’ He's the one that usually does the nicknaming.”

“Ah. Yours suited as well.” The Beauty. Belle. Isabelle French. Really, he was a fool for not seeing it sooner and running when he had the chance. Come tomorrow he’d kill Jefferson.

Their tea came, and the warmth of it in his hands did comfort him a bit. Across from him, Isabelle French seemed just as nervous, sipping her tea with a fruity aroma as her eyes darted around to take in the scenery of the cafe.

“This is my favorite place.” She said finally. “It's family owned. It reminds me a lot of Storybrooke. But I don't feel like a bug under a microscope.”

“Storybrooke does enjoy talking.” Gold said. His tea was herbal, and he vaguely remembered ordering Camomile. His muscles relaxed as he drank, though it did little for the flock of butterflies in his stomach.

“I suppose you hear a lot of things.”

“It depends on what people are willing to tell for whatever they want.” He paused. “I never hear anything about you.”

Isabelle French smiled, and Gold’s chest swelled. Somehow, he’d made her smile. And they were alone. Like a real and proper date and not two strangers that had met because...He swallowed, his tongue suddenly feeling heavy in his mouth again, and he took another sip of his tea to calm himself down.

“I don’t, uh, do this often.” Isabelle French’s voice came. “I’m not sure what Jefferson told you about, uh, arrangements.”

“Nothing.” Gold blurted. It wasn't a total lie. “No, uh, details.”

“Ah. Good. Good thing. I didn't want you to think…”

“Never.”

The look she gave him from over her cup was almost sheepish, and Gold wondered if she could hear his heart as it pounded in his chest. Probably not. He was wearing three layers of clothing.

He cleared his throat “How did you come to find this place?”

Her eyes lit up as she launched into an explanation about getting lost one day after a real book signing and stumbling across it. Immediately, Gold relaxed. This was better. Isabelle French was across from him, and even though his tea was disappearing from his cup and the hotel was still looming over them, she was talking, babbling endlessly as she always seemed to do. She stopped only to ask him about his day and how his trip to New York went. Gold opened his mouth to reply, but then the check appeared, and it all became far too real for him.

Isabelle French was across from him. They'd just finished tea. A date. And he wasn't going back to the looming hotel with some stranger off a business card. He was going with Isabelle French. And then he would disappoint her with his lack of experience and she'd never talk to him again.

He couldn't do this.

“Miss French…” He started, trying to sound firm as he fumbled out his wallet to pay for their tea. “I…”

“Isabelle.” She corrected immediately. “You can call me Isabelle. Or just Belle. Whichever you prefer.”

“Right. B-Belle.” Oh but the name felt perfect on his tongue. “We, ah, don't have to...do anything, if you prefer. This was great. This was...enough.”

Isabelle Fr - Belle’s - brows furrowed. “Did you not want to?”

“No!” He blurted, running his hands through his hair as her expression turned even more confused. His stomach churned as one by one his nerves were frayed by the way her perfect blue eyes searched him. “That's not what I meant.”

Belle nodded, but her gaze held no pity or mal intent. “Jefferson said it might have been a while. For you.”

Gold’s bones went cold. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing. That was all.”

He only nodded, trying to steady his heart and keep the trembling out of his hands. Belle stood, offering him her hand to help him stand without his cane.

“I got you something, though.” She said. “Why don't you come to my room so I can give it to you? Then we can, uh, see how things go?”

There was that sheepish look again. And the way she took her bottom lip between her teeth to chew on it had something flare in his core. Deftly, he nodded. Because he was powerless to do anything else. Because her eyes were on him and even if he didn't end up getting the experience he thought he would be getting today, Isabelle French was allowing him to call her ‘Belle’ and that felt more intimate than sex ever could.

Belle intertwined their fingers as she guided him out of the cafe. She didn't let go as they waited for the street light to turn so they could cross the street. She even held their conjoined hands up proudly as the doorman of the hotel opened the door and the receptionists gave them a greeting. She didn't let go as they got to the elevator, or even when they got out of the elevator. Gold was so enraptured by the fact that she was holding his hand so easily as they walked, not even having to change her pace or stop to account for his limp, that he had barely noticed when she led him into her hotel room and finally let his hand go.

“Hold on I put it in my bag.”

All at once, his chest gave a clench. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to meet a friendly business card woman and then go home with all the confidence that came with experience to sweep Isabelle French off her feet. Instead, now, he was standing in the middle of her hotel room, beside one of the perfectly made beds as she rummaged through a duffel bag that was on the other bed. He was ill-prepared for any of this. He couldn't do this. He could live with disappointing a stranger with his inexperience but not Belle. Never Belle. He'd run. He'd tell her he wanted to but he wasn't feeling well and thank her for the opportunity and--

“Gold?”

When he blinked, she was standing in front of him again, her blue eyes searching him, looking concerned. He managed to clear his throat, and that satisfied her.

“Here.” Belle said easily, holding up a white, sandy ball wrapped in a plastic baggie.

Gold didn't move, only looked at it lamely. “What is it?”

“It's a magnesium bath bomb.” Belle said. “I'm not sure how often you take baths, so I only got a couple. But it's supposed to help with muscles and you're always complaining about your leg so I thought, if you use this on rainy days it would help. The ingredients are all natural, and you can find them in…”

Belle continued, her perfect accent diving and sliding over something about natural herbs and warm water and maybe seaweed? Gold, however, was only fixated on one simple fact: Isabelle French had come to New York to meet with a man for a one night stand, and had first gotten him something for his leg. She'd thought of him first.

“Belle…!” Gold stammered, reaching out to catch her around her waist and pull her to him. She gave a soft gasp, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. He froze before he could bring their lips together, his nerves suddenly frazzled. He'd moved to fast. Gone too far. He shook his head, letting her go. “I'm…”

Belle, miraculously, was smiling. “It's alright.” She said. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to babble.”

He shook his head again. “I don't mind.”

“I know.” She took her lip between her teeth again, and that was enough to distract him from her hands, which had moved to play with the knot of his tie. “Do you want to maybe...try out one of those bath bombs together?”

The thought of Belle, naked and wet in a tub of warm water with him had his mind flashing back to the previous night’s fantasy. He gave a small whimper, only nodding lest his swollen tongue betray him.

“Yes?” She coaxed patiently, the sound of his tie sliding off mingling with her voice.

“Yes.” He managed. “Yes I would like that very much.”

[newstfionline]

Letter from Antarctica

Jerry Guo, CS Monitor, March 18, 2017

MCMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA --The world’s southernmost ATM is just downstairs from my dorm room. Two actually, courtesy of Wells Fargo. But aside from the penguin tchotchkes and a few other items in the town’s only shop, there’s nothing much you can blow your paycheck on.

So other forms of currency have naturally evolved, including the underground avocado economy, in which certain highly rationed fresh foodstuffs (or “freshies”) have become our equivalent of prison contraband. As a chef here on base, that makes me feel like a baron reigning over my own mini-fiefdom.

This is the part where I should talk about how life on the coldest, driest, most remote continent is really, really extreme. Indeed, most dispatches from the “end of the world” paint a romantic image of scientists working in the field, buffeted by the elements, an apotheosis of man versus nature. But the reality for most of us stationed in Antarctica is more man versus the temptations of 24/7 free and unlimited pizza. I should also point out some of the other amenities that exist: yoga classes, a hot tub, and the after-hours dance parties called “Math Club” (to throw off the higher-ups who might think there is too much frivolity going on).

Until a few years ago, there was also a two-lane bowling alley. If all this sounds ripe for parody, you’re right--two sitcoms focused on the unique lifestyle here in the basement of the world are currently under development at Fox and HBO.

From the outside, the largest research base in Antarctica looks like a cross between an incestuous community college and an Alaskan mining town. At its peak summer population, 1,000 scientists, blue-collar contractors, and military personnel live in a community that churns out discoveries on a vast array of topics--from the vagaries of Earth’s magnetic field to the chemistry of subglacial lakes to the mineral content of meteorites arriving from across the solar system.

But beyond all the revelations that end up in scientific journals and National Aeronautics and Space Administration seminars, McMurdo Station offers a window into one of the most interesting social experiments in the world today. For here is clustered a group of people, almost hermetically sealed off from the rest of the world, working and playing together in the freezer drawer of the planet.

It may be the closest thing we have to what colonial life on Mars will one day look like.

The U.S. National Science Foundation (NSF) runs McMurdo, which serves as a logistical hub for much of the science conducted on the continent. It’s also the lifeline to the Amundsen-Scott Station, a research outpost that the Americans planted at the geographic South Pole in 1956, narrowly beating out the Soviets in an unspoken race during the start of the cold war.

While Antarctica has indeed been a showcase for international collaboration and peace since then, there’s still a geopolitical and strategic undertone to the presence of the United States here. Until the 1980s, McMurdo was operated largely by the US Navy. Nowadays, the US Coast Guard coordinates the once-yearly supply vessel that comes in, and an Air National Guard operates the three weekly flights to and from New Zealand.

Yet much of the science simply can’t be done in a less remote place. Just across the sound from McMurdo are the Dry Valleys, an ice-free desert area that is considered the most similar landscape on Earth to Mars. NASA used the harsh environment there to test its Mars rovers.

Astrobiologist Sarah Johnson of Georgetown University is testing out lightweight real-time DNA sequencing on microbes that live in the extreme conditions, which she hopes to one day apply to the search for extraterrestrial life. “It’s exactly the kind of low mass-low power instrumentation we might one day use on Mars or an icy moon of Saturn or Jupiter,” she says.

Meanwhile, Ralph Harvey of Case Western Reserve University heads up a research consortium that’s been hunting for meteorites on the continent for the past 40 years. It has amassed 22,000 specimens from the asteroid belt, the moon, and a variety of planets, including Mars. The meteorites stand out from the background of blue ice, and they gradually “float” to the surface as the fierce katabatic winds erode the millenniums-old glacial crust. Most of the world’s meteorites come from Mr. Harvey’s consortium.

“For 1/1000th the cost of a space mission, we’re bringing back 100 kilograms of stuff from all over the solar system,” he says.

Harvey is backed by an obscure division of NASA called the Planetary Defense Coordination Office, which hints at the relevance of the consortium’s work. We know shockingly little about near-Earth objects like asteroids--which, if they survive the fall through Earth’s atmosphere, are called meteorites.

The Chelyabinsk meteor in 2013, star of many Russian dashcam videos, injured some 1,500 residents and caused $33 million in damage. Harvey and his team are hoping these Antarctic meteorites will shed light on how to monitor and possibly prevent other meteorite collisions with Earth in the future.

“You have the best in [their] field coming down to work here,” says Beverly Walker, manager of the lab facilities on base. “So in the science realm, you’re working with a lot of famous people.”

For every scientist (“grantee” in local lingo), there are about five support contractors who transport their scientific cargo, cook their food, maintain their snowmobiles, cut their hair, and staff the hundreds of other jobs that go into running a small town.

Scientists and contractors often work side by side, and many are friends. It’s a close-knit community, where PhDs and GEDs can share a lunch table. Friends are made fast; romantic partners, even faster.

But there’s an unspoken social hierarchy. Every person who comes on base is issued a high-tech Canada Goose jacket that costs more than $1,000. Yet it’s the light wind jacket that only the grantees get that everyone covets.

The quote from “Animal Farm” is apropos here: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.” As my season progresses, I realize George Orwell’s communist parable should double as an employee handbook.

For one thing, there’s full employment. (But you can’t just switch jobs and become, say, an artist. There’s an actual selection process for approved “artists-in-residence” to work here.) A corollary is that it’s pretty hard to get fired for doing your job poorly.

Your basic needs are also taken care of: food, housing, universal health care, even the entertainment--all paid for by the NSF, which spent $260 million on Antarctic “facilities and logistics” in 2016 and another $128 million on research (including in the Arctic).

And everyone shares what he or she has, donating leftover clothes and household items after the season to the next crew. The system’s called Skua, named after the Antarctic scavenging bird that skulks around town.

In our Democratic People’s Republic of McMurdo, the grantees and NSF administrators make up the Party. The Politburo would be “distinguished visitors” (DVs as we call them), which normally means members of Congress who oversee our funding and this season included then-Secretary of State John Kerry, who became the highest-ranked American official to visit Antarctica. While everyone else eats the cafeteria food, we prepare restaurant-quality dishes for them. They also get special housing, which may include the luxury of a private bathroom.

I would be part of the proletariat, for which life revolves around the work unit. In the cafeteria (“galley”), we eat generally with our immediate co-workers. Most of our friends end up being those we work with.

Of course, in any centrally planned economy, there’s rationing. One day at brunch, we had to make a sign next to a bowl of stunted strawberries: “Please limit yourself to two.”

There’s a healthy black market and barter economy, too, from massages to fresh milk smuggled down on a cargo flight. Yet even though money is mostly useless, other ways of exhibiting status inevitably emerge. An obvious one is Ice Time, which is determined not just by how long a person has been coming down to Antarctica, but also in what capacity.

Someone who’s been here through the winter is higher on the rung than a summer-only newbie like me. But a summer at Amundsen-Scott Station at the geographic South Pole beats a winter at McMurdo. And for those who spent a winter at Amundsen, well, they’re minor rock stars.

Your Ice Time dictates what kind of housing you receive as well as what “boondoggles” you go on. Boondoggles are sanctioned morale-boosting recreation trips. A fairly standard one, which I went on, takes you across the sea ice for two hours in a balloon-tired Delta truck to the expedition hut Sir Robert Scott built for his ill-fated race to the South Pole. One NSF administrator regaled an awestruck group with the tale of her boondoggle to the Italian research base, where she had real gelato and wine with lunch.

There’s also a propaganda department that carefully selects one or two journalists a year to take on orchestrated press tours of the stations. Government minders escort them around the entire time.

People come down thinking Antarctica is a free-wheeling continent unshackled by strictures and sovereignty. Yet the research stations here are some of the most tightly controlled places on the planet, as they need to be for safety.

In a Condition 1 blizzard, for instance, you’re forbidden from even leaving your building. I once accidentally ventured outside the boundary of the neighboring recreational ski field at the New Zealand base--the entire station received an urgent warning via email.

But Antarctica is a place that often can’t be controlled. Employees can succumb to the intense psychological isolation by what we call “getting toasty.” In 2013, a small group mutinied during the winter over at the South Pole station, when the outpost is shut off from the outside world for nine months. They took their frustrations out on the furniture.

Or they succumb to the extreme conditions when venturing outside town. This season, renowned glaciologist Gordon Hamilton died after falling into a crevasse a few miles from McMurdo. He was one of the world’s leading experts on crevasses.

Despite these dangers, the most desirable position--for both scientists and contractors--is to be out at a remote field camp, as far away from McMurdo as possible. Some research teams use helicopters and vehicles with tracks for their daily commute into the field, returning to McMurdo to sleep.

Phil Wannamaker from the University of Utah is on his last leg of a three-year expedition on Mt. Erebus, one of only half a dozen volcanoes in the world with an active lava lake. He and two collaborators are on-call every day, ready to jump in a helicopter on short notice if the weather clears enough to traverse the slopes and peer inside the crater. He’s placing tomographic instruments that can create a 3-D model of the internal plumbing of the volcano. “It’s not the kind of science where you find a pterodactyl bone and you’re done,” says Mr. Wannamaker.

Other groups just use McMurdo as a staging point. Filmmaker Jeff Wilson and his crew spent six weeks camped close to a colony of 600,000 Adélie penguins at Cape Crozier, a 20-minute helicopter ride away. Once there, they faced an hour walk, with 60 pounds of camera equipment, each way, to the colony.

Since these penguins need snow-free rock for their nests, they invariably choose the windiest spots on an already-windy continent. This season, they faced only 90-mile-per-hour winds and minus 22 degree F. temperatures.

“There’s a specific noise that sounds like five or six jet engines; that’s your best indicator that you need to get out of there,” says Mr. Wilson. “It can be equal parts terrifying and quite fun playing around in those high winds.” In 2009, when he filmed “Frozen Planet” at the site, the winds reached 150 m.p.h.

They share the site with David Ainley’s penguin science research group, which has been studying this colony for 20 years. It takes an entire week for the four researchers to walk through the 280,000-nest colony and check up on the nests of the 500 penguins, identified with bands, that they are studying. “In the last eight to nine years, this population has been going through the roof,” says Mr. Ainley.

That sounds good--until you hear the reason: Warming oceans from climate change have opened up more polynyas, or small ice-free openings, that benefit the penguins. At the same time, overfishing of Antarctic toothfish has knocked out one of their main competitors for food. The food chain is going awry.

Living in these remote camps--where you have to melt your own snow for the occasional shower and blizzards can trap you in your tent for days--still gives you a sense of adventure. It’s the kind of office most people imagine when they think of Antarctica. The most extreme camps require a long ride, usually starting with a ski-equipped military transport plane.

Matt Siegfried of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in San Diego is leading a six-member team to study subglacial lakes and their effects on glacial flow. This season, they’re taking a squad of snowmobiles with them on the 560-mile flight. Once they land, they’ll barrel across the ice stream, setting up a series of four mobile camps over six weeks.

But it’s hard to completely shake off the Club Med attitude--they’ll be bringing some Cornish hens, among other things. “It’s kind of a silly nice life we have out there. Glamping,” says Mr. Siegfried of their attempt to create glamorous camping conditions.

Among the support crew, a few groups stand out. There’s the One and Done, young people usually fresh out of school who often haven’t traveled much. They stay for a season, if that, and basically just tick Antarctica off their bucket list. One dining attendant this year quit on her first day.

Then there’s the Perennial Contractor, like my first roommate. These people are at McMurdo for the money. They’ve often done a tour in Afghanistan and Iraq as military or civilian support staff, and you won’t be catching them at the Sunday science lectures. The Partyer is reliving his--or more often than not, her--college years; a guy-to-girl ratio of 3 to 1 means that women are often the center of any party.

“The community down here is extremely unique,” says Ms. Walker, the science manager here for the past seven years. “The people are adventure-seeking travelers, and everyone has a very cool story to tell.”

Gossip spreads and characters quickly become legends. A roommate swears he’s met a guy in witness protection here. One friend says he knew of a guy who skied everything he wasn’t allowed to ski (which is basically everything) in the first week and was promptly fired. Just among the chefs, there’s a former guard at Guantánamo and a salesman who goes around the world selling glitter.

In my last month of the season, I will travel to the other side of the continent, where I will work as a naturalist guide on a 200-passenger expedition cruise ship. On board will be Tom Hart from the University of Oxford in England. Instead of being based at one of the national research stations, he piggybacks on these periodic cruise liners to conduct his studies of penguins.

It’s an ultra-cheap version of the same sort of science being done at McMurdo. But while the passengers politely listen to his lectures, they’re really more interested in getting their close-ups taken with the birds.

I already miss the geeks and misfits and bureaucrats of McMurdo.

[gordonwilliamsweb]

Disease-Carrying Mosquitoes Fly Free as Health Departments Focus on Coronavirus

Bug spray, swollen welts, citronella. It’s mosquito season.

Special Reports

Hollowed-Out Public Health System Faces More Cuts Amid Virus

Jun 29

The U.S. public health system has been starved for decades and lacks the resources necessary to confront the worst health crisis in a century. Read the investigation from KHN and The Associated Press.

And in a normal year, the health department serving Ohio’s Delaware County would be setting out more than 90 mosquito traps a week — black tubs of stagnant water with nets designed to ensnare the little buggers.

But this year, because of COVID-19, the mosquitoes will fly free.

The coronavirus has pulled the staffers away, so they haven’t set a single trap yet this year, according to Dustin Kent, the program manager of the residential services unit. Even if workers had the time, the state lab that typically tests the insects for viruses that infect humans isn’t able to take the samples because it also is too busy with COVID-19.

That means the surrounding community, just north of Columbus, Ohio, has to wait until potentially deadly mosquito-borne illnesses such as that caused by the West Nile virus sicken humans to find out if the insects are carrying disease.

“It’s frustrating knowing that we can do a more preventative approach,” Kent said. “But we’re stuck reacting.”

In Washtenaw County, Michigan, mosquito samples aren’t being collected because the health department didn’t have the staff or ability to hire and train summer interns who would typically perform the work. In Houston, a COVID-19 hot spot, a third of mosquito control staffers are working the COVID call center, stocking warehouses and preparing coronavirus testing materials. And across Florida, public health officials couldn’t test chicken blood for exposure to mosquito-borne viruses — chickens get bitten by the insects, too, so that can serve as a warning — at the overwhelmed state lab until mid-June, a task that normally begins in the spring.

This 2019 photo provided by the Washtenaw County Health Department in Michigan shows a petri dish used to identify mosquito species likely to carry disease. Mosquito samples aren’t being collected this year in the county amid the coronavirus pandemic because the health department didn’t have the bandwidth or ability to hire and train summer interns who would usually perform the work.(Washtenaw County Health Department via AP)

Monitoring and killing mosquitoes is a key public health task used to curb the spread of deadly disease. In recent years, top mosquito-borne illnesses have killed some 200 people annually in the U.S. But that relatively low toll is due in part to the efforts of public health departments to keep the spread at bay, unlike in other countries where hundreds of thousands are sickened and die each year.

“Mosquitoes are the biggest nuisance and pest on this planet. Hands down,” said Ary Faraji, president of the American Mosquito Control Association, a nonprofit that supports public agencies dedicated to mosquito control. “They are responsible for more deaths than any other organism on this planet, including humans.”

This is a physical job that can’t be done by telecommuting from home. Keeping track of mosquitoes and the diseases they carry requires setting up traps, and searching backyards and commercial lots. Public health workers patrol irrigation ditches and overturn the backyard tires, plastic bins and garbage that can hold standing water where mosquitoes breed.

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Around the U.S., more than half of public health departments combat mosquitoes. In some states, including Florida and California, specific departments are dedicated to tracking and preventing their spread. The goal is to find infected mosquito populations and kill them before they get to humans, or at least warn the community about their presence as mosquito-borne epidemics are happening more frequently nationally as temperatures rise.

But a joint investigation published this month by KHN and The Associated Press detailed how state and local public health departments across the U.S. have been starved for decades, leaving them underfunded and without adequate resources to confront the coronavirus pandemic, let alone perform the other work like mosquito control they are tasked to handle at the same time. Over 38,000 public health worker jobs have been lost since 2008. Per capita spending on local health departments has been cut by 18% since 2010.

So as public health workers scramble to summon enough of a workforce to address a once-in-a-generation pandemic, they’re being pulled from normal mosquito-related tasks. The short staffing is leaving many localities — especially those without separate, dedicated control districts — flying blind on potential mosquito threats.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has stepped in to help and is now running mosquito testing for at least nine states, including Florida, Arizona and the Carolinas, said Roxanne Connelly, entomology and ecology team lead for the CDC’s National Center for Emerging and Zoonotic Infectious Diseases, as well as evaluating human blood samples for mosquito-borne disease for 40 states. Concerned about the disruptions, the CDC issued a policy brief with the Environmental Protection Agency on Thursday, stressing that mosquito prevention and spraying of insecticides was an essential service that needs to continue even in a national health emergency.

“Mosquitoes are still going to be around, and still causing diseases, no matter what sort of pandemic is going on,” Connelly said.

Even with relatively low rates of disease, in part because of limited testing to measure the problem so far this year, there are worrying signs. Fourteen people in the Florida Keys have come down with locally acquired dengue, which can cause fever, severe body aches and vomiting. Massachusetts has found its first mosquito carrying Eastern equine encephalitis, which kills approximately a third of people infected, according to the CDC. West Nile virus has been found in mosquitoes, birds or other species in at least 18 states and has infected people in nine.

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“This year it’s more of a wild card; we’re not getting the surveillance we’d normally get,” said David Brown, the technical adviser for the American Mosquito Control Association.

The flu-like symptoms of diseases like West Nile — fever, body aches — especially worry Nina Dacko, who supervises the mosquito control program for Tarrant County Public Health in Fort Worth, Texas.

“I wonder which cases are going to be missed as everyone is going to expect COVID and then move on when they test negative,” she said.

Budget cuts are coming in waves as tax shortfalls rock local health departments. Three municipalities in Texas, including Watauga, Saginaw and Lake Worth, haven’t sent any mosquitoes in for testing this year — they don’t have the time, or have lost staffing and money due to revenue shortfalls from COVID-19, Dacko said.

Smaller health departments appear to be bearing the brunt of the problems, North Carolina state public health entomologist Michael Doyle said in an email, as they have fewer staffers to fight the coronavirus. Some larger departments and programs — like those covering Houston, California’s Central Valley or Maricopa County, Arizona — say they’ve been able to operate close to normal.

And while public health officials say small outdoor gatherings are safest when it comes to avoiding exposure to the coronavirus, some worry that the risk of acquiring mosquito-borne diseases could rise.

“Everyone knows, if you’re outdoors, that’s where you’re actually going to get exposed,” said Chelsea Gridley-Smith, director of environmental health for the National Association of County and City Health Officials.

Labs swamped by COVID tests may be increasing that risk. Local governments often rely on the same public health labs to test whether mosquitoes are carrying diseases like West Nile, dengue or Eastern equine encephalitis that they do to test humans for infectious diseases, like COVID-19. As a result, much of the country is weeks behind where they would typically be in testing mosquitoes for the presence of dangerous diseases, Brown said.

Salt Lake City Mosquito Abatement District biologist Nadja Reissen examines mosquitoes in August 2019. When the pandemic hit, the department sent materials to the labs testing for COVID-19 and donated the N95 masks stockpiled for spraying chemicals used to control mosquito populations.(AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Stopping mosquitoes requires getting information in real time. If a mosquito is carrying West Nile virus, “you want to know that today, not two weeks from now,” Brown said.

When the COVID pandemic hit Salt Lake City, which has its own labs to test mosquitoes, the mosquito department shared its materials with the labs testing for COVID-19 and donated N95 masks that its staff uses when spraying mosquito-killing chemicals, according to Faraji, who is also the executive director of the Salt Lake City Mosquito Abatement District. Utah has done about 5% of the mosquito testing it would usually do by this point, he said.

“Our underlying concern is that one public health emergency doesn’t lead into another,” Faraji said.

Any grand fix to the hole in the nation’s current mosquito netting is going to require some serious cash, Gridley-Smith said, to allow for dedicated staffing, instead of expecting public health workers to juggle it alongside multiple other programs.

The Southern Nevada Health District — which includes Las Vegas — doesn’t have a dedicated mosquito department. From April to October, workers there trap, collect and test mosquitoes for viruses, said Vivek Raman, who oversees the efforts. The rest of the year, the same team is in charge of sanitation for all the area hotels and mobile home parks, including those on the casino strip. But restaurant inspections, permitting and sanitation help pay their way.

“One of the challenges with mosquitoes is they don’t pay permit fees,” he said.

Several bills to support mosquito control efforts, including the Strengthening Mosquito Abatement for Safety and Health Act, have passed through Congress with bipartisan support in recent years but haven’t been funded.

For the CDC’s Connelly, the lack of dollars is just another part of the boom-bust nature of funding for health departments and mosquito control programs nationally. Infusions of cash after bouts with mosquito-borne Zika or hurricanes aren’t enough to fully maintain robust programs, she said, and they often have to start over when the next crisis hits.

Raman and his colleagues did have plans this year to work with the CDC on a project to reduce the population of Aedes aegypti, an invasive mosquito species that can carry a range of deadly viruses, including Zika, and which first showed up in southern Nevada around 2017. That project is on hold until next year.

AP journalists Mike Householder in Canton Township, Michigan, Juan A. Lozano in Houston and Jeannie Ohm in Arlington, Virginia, contributed to this report.

This story is a collaboration between The Associated Press and KHN. To reach the AP’s investigative team, email investigative@ap.org.

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