#them reading through the research reports. With Pictures.

[orcelito]

hahahaha. you dont say.

in any case i just read chapter 40 of trimax and i am. not the same.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 3)

first | last | Masterpost | Next

What Tim and Bruce found was completely ridiculous. It really wasn’t hard to find the Doctors Fenton’s website but it was ridiculous! It was outdated and gaudy with animations of cartoony ghosts everywhere. If it hadn’t been for how clear Danny was about his parents' names Tim would have skipped right over it. But when he got past the terrible website design and started reading it his stomach just dropped lower and lower.

The writing was clean and scientific though it couldn’t disguise the malicious delight they took in tearing the creatures they called ‘ghosts’ apart. Whatever these ghosts really were Danny had been internalizing this attitude about Himself for years! They also bragged about their weapons and their government contract. So whether that was true or not Danny hadn’t been lying or delusional, it was his parents. And regardless of what these ghosts actually were it was obvious they were supernatural so RR sent a link to the website to Zatana.

(link)

RR: What do you think?

Tana: Lol is this a joke?

RR: I wish, I know it looks like one but no, this is deadly serious.

Tana: Hang on

Red Robin put down his phone to give Zatana the time to read over the site and looked more into Maddy and Jack Fenton while she did. He found their graduation certificates, and pictures of them in college with what must have been a much younger Vlad. So they were actually doctors of some sort, they had their doctorate, though that didn’t exactly make it any less likely they had gone fully off the rails now.

His phone dinged and he picked it up to see one short message from Zatana.

Tana: I’m coming to the cave.

Tim sighed and put his phone back down, spinning his chair to face B who was hunched over the computer typing furiously. “Zatana is on her way, I asked for her opinion of the Fenton’s research and she must think it’s big.” He said as he dug out a domino mask.

“Hm,” B sounded and went to get his cowl. “Report?”

“The Doctors Fenton are doctors, they got their doctorates though I don’t know in what yet. They’ve been friends with Vlad since university and they certainly at least think they’re studying ghosts. Their website has articles on behaviours and biology, and how to hunt and hurt ghosts. They brag about a government contract.” Tim summarized. “You?”

“The Ghost Investigation Ward does exist and they are a government agency but they only seem to be active in the town of Amity Park and they’re so inept! It wasn’t hard to hack them, they’re trying to sound mysterious and a little dangerous talking about protecting humanity from invasions from other worlds but I don’t think they’re actually that competent,” Batman said with a scowl.

“The only reason we didn’t know about this was because we weren’t looking! And it’s possible Danny is right and they were jamming calls from Amity to the JL, but I have a terrible feeling what actually happened if that the call came through and someone heard them talking about ghosts and rogue government agencies, assumed it was a prank and blocked them,” Bruce said massaging his temples.

“Ah,” Tim said, his heart dropping at how plausible that sounded. Could they have saved Danny before, if they had taken that call seriously.

“And Vlad is the mayor of his town, there are articles about Danny fighting him in public. It seems like everyone knew their relationship was antagonistic at best and No One defended him. The GIW also listed him in their special thanks for helping fund them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been using them as a tool to threaten and control Danny.” Batman said with cold fury. Tim took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“We weren’t able to protect him, but we will avenge him. And we’ll keep him safe Now,” Tim reminded his father. Privately thinking that as soon as he could he was going to tell Jason about this so they could Really make sure Vlad never came near Danny again. An arrest just wasn’t strong enough for a man like that. He wasn’t going to tell Bruce that though, obviously.

The sound of the Zeta tube interrupted their moment as Zatana arrived, looking slightly more ruffled then she usually did. She must have really rushed here, which was a bit worrying.

“Zatana,” Batman greeted.

“Hello Batman, before we talk I need to check your wards.” She said already walking past them.

“Hm,” Batman sounded, making RR smile a little, how Batman made that sound mean so many different things always sort of amazed him.

“I need to check the ones on your home too. And I’d like to meet the boy you have under your care,” She said briskly.

“How did you know about the boy?” Batman asked gruffly.

“Lucky guess,” she said briskly, her hands glowed as she walked around the cave, making seemingly random gestures as if touching or pulling on invisible threads. None of the bats really understood magic so they left her to it. When she was done they let her up into the manner, she knew their identities already after all and she checked all the wards on the home very thoroughly, occasionally casting spells to reinforce them. They collected Dick and Damian trailing after them curiously as they went as well.

“Alright, can I meet the boy now?” She asked, turning towards Bruce who crossed his arms and puffed out his chest a bit.

“Not till you explain to us what’s going on,” He growled and Zatana looked over the curious stubborn faces surrounding her and sighed.

“Fine,” she allowed, resigned. She rubbed her temples as she looked around for a chair and sunk down into it. “So what the Fentons seem to be referring to as Ghosts are actually denizens of the Infinite Realms, the space in between every world and afterlife. Some of the beings there were once people who died but many aren’t. They’re also known to be very powerful and quite violent though thankfully not particularly interested in the living. The fact that the Government is apparently messing with something like this is very bad news.

“Constantine and I have been keeping half an eye on the situation in Amity Park but they had their own pair of Heroes, Phantom and Red Huntress, who seemed to have the situation well under control so we weren’t all that worried about it. We weren’t tracking the more human elements of the GIW and the Fentons,” She bit her lip and thought for a moment.

“When Tim sent me that website and I was made aware of those, that changed things. What’s worse is the photo the Fentons’ have of their family. Their son… we knew Phantom looked young but ghosts often stay at a younger age than they really are, with how powerful he was we assumed he was Old. But he looks exactly like the Fenton’s son. Did they not notice he was dead or…” She looked around at their faces, apparently getting her answer from their expressions.

“There have been rumours for a long time about a very rare and powerful sort of living dead, humans soaked in the pure energy of the infinite realms resulting in a still living ancient. It’s so rare that people usually think it’s a fairy tale but with the work Phantom’s parents do it makes a sick sort of sense. And what it means is that that boy you have stashed away is basically a baby God and we all have to be very careful.”

There was a heavy silence as they all processed what she was saying. “Are you… sure?” Tim asked, uncertainly.

“I won’t be till I meet him, but I’m as sure as I can be without that at the moment,” she said firmly.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone. “Cas is with him, I’ll text her to see if she’s up to meeting you. If he’s that powerful we don’t want to push him right?” He asked as he typed out a text to Cas.

“Yes. Like I said he’s been acting as a hero in Amity, he seems like a good kid but I have no doubt in my mind if he’s pushed too far we could have a truly apocalyptic situation on our hands,” She said which made Tim swallow thickly.

His phone dinged and he checked it. “Danny is willing to meet you but he’s really tired so go easy on him and don’t stay long,” Tim relayed her message.

“Alright that’s fine, thank you. Show me the way please,” She requested.

Bruce took over, leaving the way. “We don’t want to overwhelm him, I think only I and Zatana should go in, with Cas still there since he seems to feel safe with her,” Bruce informed his children.

“Alright, just tell us everything soon!” Dick demanded and Bruce’s lips twitched up in just the suggestion of a smile as he nodded to them.

He took off his cowl, he wasn’t in his full uniform anyway and he didn’t want to scare Danny. Besides if he had been a hero even if he clocked Bruce he would understand.

“Hello Danny, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Zatana,” She introduced herself s she followed Bruce in. She would have offered her hand to shake but Danny was half hiding behind Cas sitting on the bed.

“It’s nice to meet you too. What’s with the outfit?” He asked curiously which made her laugh.

“I’m a hero, one of the less known ones. I’m part of Justice League Dark which is their supernatural division along with Constantine and Deadman and a few others. He’s a ghost, but I assure you the government hasn’t been giving him any trouble, probably because they knew they wouldn’t get away with it.”

“So I’m just lucky then,” Danny said with a bitter curl to his lips.

“As a hero, I want to ask, are you Phantom?” She asked rather bluntly.

Bruce shivered as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees and Danny’s eyes started to swirl with green as he glared at Zatana who managed to barely react. Batman noticed how her back tensed a bit but it was barely there. “You know?” Danny demanded. “You knew about what was going on in Amity and you didn’t help?!”

“I’m very sorry Danny,” She said genuinely. “We knew something was going on, but we didn’t look closely enough. We thought that you were an older ghost just of someone who died young because of your strength, and it looked like things were under control. Normally our involvement wouldn’t have been appreciated, intruding on someone’s haunt, so we didn’t look any closer. I am so sorry we overlooked you but we’re going to make up for it now I promise.

“I’ve checked and reinforced the wards on the house so nothing should be able to come in uninvited, and I’m going to contact the rest of the JLD. We’re going to go to Amity, we’ll figure this out and deal with it I promise.”

The temperature in the room slowly went back up, Danny was still upset, but he didn’t seem like he was about to snap anymore. While Zatana had been talking Cas had started gently rubbing Danny’s back and that seemed to be helping too. After a moment Danny looked up again and nodded, accepting the help.

“The veil must be very thin there, to let so many ghosts through?” Zatana probed gently.

“It is, but more than that two years ago my parents succeeded in building a portal to what they call the Ghost Zone. This kinda green world of floating islands.

“A portal,” Zatana said flatly, blinking rapidly. “To the Infinite Realms?”

“Ah is that what it’s really called? Ya probably? That’s how everyone’s been getting through. How I got my powers too, the ghosts call me a halfa, but I’m not the only one. Vlad’s one too.”

Batman heard Zatana mutter “Two?” softly, baffled and alarmed but she nodded. Bruce filed that information away too, it seemed Vlad was even more of a threat then he’d first appeared to be.

“Alright, I’ll get as many of the JLD together as I can and we’ll head to Amity. We’ll shut down the portal and deal with this.” She said determinedly.

From the look on Danny’s face he didn’t really believe her, but he nodded again and leaned against Cas. “Good luck I suppose,” he muttered and sighed, rubbing his face.

“Just… tell me if you get in over your heads okay, I’m used to dealing with all this stuff.” God he sounded so tired, the poor kid.

“I will, but don’t worry about us, just take care of yourself okay? This is a good place to be, I promise you won’t have to be alone anymore.” Zatana assured him. She probably had more questions, but it was very obvious that Danny was getting tired.

“Bruce is good dad,” Cas chimed in, speaking up for the first time. It embarrassed Bruce a little but he smiled at them and nodded a little.

“Thank you,” Danny said, his shoulder slumped and his back curled. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Of course Chum,” Bruce agreed, starting to shoo Zatana out of the bedroom with Cas on their heels. When they closed the door behind them Bruce heard the lock click quietly closed behind them. He really hoped that Danny would feel safe enough to sleep well.

@zlinen  @sebas-nights   @littlefeather345  @isnt-that-grape     @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit  @shadowkatt99  @fantasticstoryteller @blackshuckatdusk @blacksea21090  @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @imalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff

[reasonsforhope]

Hazel Chandler was at home taking care of her son when she began flipping through a document that detailed how burning fossil fuels would soon jeopardize the planet.

She can’t quite remember who gave her the report — this was in 1969 — but the moment stands out to her vividly: After reading a list of extreme climate events that would materialize in the coming decades, she looked down at the baby she was nursing, filled with dread.

 “‘Oh my God, I’ve got to do something,’” she remembered thinking...

It was one of several such moments throughout Chandler’s life that propelled her into activist spaces — against the Vietnam War, for civil rights and women’s rights, and in support of environmental causes.

She participated in letter-writing campaigns and helped gather others to write to legislators about vital pieces of environmental legislation including the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act, passed in 1970 and 1972, respectively. At the child care center she worked at, she helped plan celebrations around the first Earth Day in 1970. 

Now at 78, after working in child care and health care for most of her life, she’s more engaged than ever. In 2015, she began volunteering with Elder Climate Action, which focuses on activating older people to fight for the environment. She then took a job as a consultant for the Union for Concerned Scientists, a nonprofit science advocacy organization. 

More recently, her activism has revolved around her role as the Arizona field coordinator of Moms Clean Air Force, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group. Chandler helps rally volunteers to take action on climate and environmental justice issues, recruiting residents to testify and meet with lawmakers. 

Pictured: Hazel Chandler tables at Environment Day at Wesley Bolin Plaza in front of the Arizona State Capitol in Phoenix, Arizona, in January 2024.

Her motivation now is the same as it was decades ago. 

“When I look my grandchildren and my great-grandchildren, my children, in the eye, I have to be able to say, ‘I did everything I could to protect you,’” Chandler said. “I have to be able to tell them that I’ve done everything possible within my ability to help move us forward.” 

Chandler is part of a largely unrecognized contingent of the climate movement in the United States: the climate grannies. 

The most prominent example perhaps, is the actor Jane Fonda. The octogenarian grandmother has been arrested during climate protests a number of times and has her own PAC that funds the campaigns of “climate champions” in local and state elections. 

Climate grannies come equipped with decades of activism experience and aim to pressure the government and corporations to curb fossil fuel emissions. As a result they, alongside women of every age group, are turning out in bigger numbers, both at protests and the polls. All of the climate grandmothers The 19th interviewed for this piece noted one unifying theme: concern for their grandchildren’s futures. 

According to research conducted by Dana R. Fisher, director for the Center of Environment, Community and Equity at American University, while the mainstream environmental movement has typically been dominated by men, women make up 61 percent of climate activists today.  The average age of climate activists was 52 with 24 percent being 69 and older...

A similar trend holds true at the ballot box, according to data collected by the Environmental Voter Project, a nonpartisan organization focused on turning out climate voters in elections. 

A report released by the Environmental Voter Project in December that looked at the patterns of registered voters in 18 different states found that after the Gen Z vote, people 65 and older represent the next largest climate voter group, with older women far exceeding older men in their propensity to list climate as their No. 1 reason for voting. The organization defines climate voters as those who are most likely to list climate change, the environment, or clean air and water as their top political priority.

“Grandmothers are now at the vanguard of today’s climate movement,” said Nathaniel Stinnett, founder of the Environmental Voter Project.

“Older people are three times as likely to list climate as a top priority than middle-aged people. On top of that, women in all age groups are more likely to care about climate than men,” he said. “So you put those two things together … and you can safely say that grandma is much more likely to be a climate voter than your middle-aged man.” 

In Arizona, where Chandler lives, older climate voters make up 231,000 registered voters in the state. The presidential election in the crucial swing state was decided by just 11,000 votes, Stinnett noted.

“Older climate voters can really throw their weight around in Arizona if they organize and if they make sure that everybody goes to the polls,” he said. 

Pictured: Hazel Chandler’s recent activism revolves around her role as the Arizona field coordinator of Moms Clean Air Force, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group.

In some cases, their identities as grandmothers have become an organizing force. 

In California, 1000 Grandmothers for Future Generations formed in 2016, after older women from the Bay Area traveled to be in solidarity with Indigenous grandmothers protesting the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline at the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. 

“When they came back, they decided to form an organization that would continue to mobilize women on behalf of the climate justice movement,” said Nancy Hollander, a member of the group. 

1000 Grandmothers — in this case, the term encompasses all older women, not just the literal grandmothers — is rooted at the intersection of social justice and the climate crisis, supporting people of color and Indigenous-led causes in the Bay Area. The organization is divided into various working groups, each with a different focus: elections, bank divestments from fossil fuels, legislative work, nonviolent direct actions, among others...

“There are women in the nonviolent direct action part of the organization who really do feel that elder women — it’s their time to stand up and be counted and to get arrested,” Hollander said. “They consider it a historical responsibility and put themselves out there to protect the more vulnerable.” 

But 1000 Grandmothers credits another grandmother activist, Pennie Opal Plant, for helping train their members in nonviolent direct action and for inspiring them to take the lead of Indigenous women in the fight. 

Plant, 66 — an enrolled member of the Yaqui of Southern California tribe, and of undocumented Choctaw and Cherokee ancestry — has started various organizations over the years, including Idle No More SF Bay, which she co-founded with a group of Indigenous grandmothers in 2013, first in solidarity with a group formed by First Nations women in Canada to defend treaty rights and to protect the environment from exploitation. 

Pictured: Pennie Opal Plant has started various organizations over the years, including Idle No More SF Bay, which she founded in 2013 alongside Indigenous grandmothers.

In 2016, Plant gathered with others in front of Wells Fargo Corporate offices in San Francisco, blocking the road in protest of the Dakota Access Pipeline, when she realized the advantages she had as an older woman in the fight. 

As a police liaison — or a person who aims to defuse tension with law enforcement — she went to speak to an officer who was trying to interrupt the action. When she saw him maneuvering his car over a sidewalk, she stood in front of it, her gray hair flowing. “I opened my arms really wide and was like, are you going to run over a grandmother?”

A new idea was born: The Society of Fearless Grandmothers. Once an in-person training — it now mostly exists online as a Facebook page — it helped teach other grandmothers how to protect the youth at protests. 

For Plant, the role of grandmothers in the fight to protect the planet is about a simple Indigenous principle: ensuring the future for the next seven generations. 

“What we’re seeing is a shift starting with Indigenous women, that is lifting up the good things that mothers have to share, the good things that women that love children can share, that will help bring back balance in the world,” Plant said...

[Kathleen] Sullivan is one of approximately 70,000 people over the age of 60 who’ve joined Third Act, a group specifically formed to engage people 60 and older to mobilize for climate action across the country. 

“This is an act of moral responsibility. It’s an act of care. And It’s an act of reciprocity to the way in which we are cared for by the planet,” Sullivan said. “It’s an act of interconnection to your peers, because there can be great joy and great sense of solidarity with other people around this.”

-via The 19th, January 31, 2024

[nightgoodomens]

Imagine Aziraphale spending majority of his time in Heaven gathering every single report written about him and Crowley, all the pictures, all the reports he’s ever written and laughing to himself how he was basically writing poems about Crowley’s beauty and personality, but always ending with “Clearly a terrible Demon” knowing that Angels don’t understand anything about love so it will be enough to throw them off.

One day he sits with Crowley in their cottage, on the fluffy carpet in front of the warm fireplace, going through everything together, fondly remembering their meet ups, chuckling at the outfits, happy they have all the photographs.

Aziraphale creates a hardcover book out of all the reports. He puts the photos in a beautiful album. There is a special place on his bookshelf for memories. And he pats them fondly and goes to meet Crowley by the door where they put their shoes on to go for a walk around the village and create new memories.

Aziraphale has a camera now. He and Crowley take pictures. Happy pictures. Full of joy. Not secret, the two of them anxiously looking behind their back.

Aziraphale loves taking pictures of Crowley. He’s pretty, whether soaking in sunshine, wrapped up in a thick shawl in winter, or surrounded by beautiful colours of autumn. His favourite picture might be of Crowley throwing colourful leaves up in the air and Aziraphale perfectly catching his happy face as they fall around him.

They have a few pictures together. Selfies, even! Grinning at the camera. Happy.

Aziraphale has one picture of them kissing, their cheeks pink from the cold air. He uses it as a bookmark so he can look at it whenever he reads.

Crowley grabs his camera sometimes, especially when they’re travelling and trying new foods. Aziraphale laughs when Crowley shows him pictures of him with a very satisfied happy face as he’s trying new food.

Aziraphale does enough research to know there are cameras now that can take pictures of the space. He gets one for Crowley.

He’s not surprised that Crowley figures out how to use it in moments. He sits on the blanket in the garden as Crowley sets it up and starts taking shots. Aziraphale looks at the beautiful shots of nebulas and stars and he adores them, but Crowley’s face and the tears in his eyes and shaking hands while he talks excited about his creations make Aziraphale look at him more.

God, he loves him.

[eetherealgoddess]

Hihi

Could you do a fic where reader is like a driver 4 bonten and something comes up so she has to like pick (u cld do all or chose one it doesn't matter) them up then some smut, noncon and fem reader.

Thx in advance if you'll write this, I've been searching for a writer that does noncon🥲

Hope you enjoy this! Also hope you don’t mind about a little mxm between the men in it! Also dark ending!!

Also I’m thinking of making an au where the guys are poly with each other and the reader is added to it or walks in on it or something idk yet but lmk in the comments or requests what you think about that.

ꨄBonten’s Propertyꨄ

Part Two

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You pick up your boss and fellow executives from the club❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Bonten’s Property

“Why do I have to pick them up from the club?” You whine, giving Kokonoi a disturbed look as you stare at his sitting figure, focusing on the laptop in front of him.

“You were specifically requested tonight.” He continues to type as you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, but not by our boss. All the guys are gonna do is terrorize me while I’m trying to drive.” You cross your arms as you rest on one leg, hip poking out as you shake your head.

“Boss is with them currently so I assume he relayed the message.” You groan. “You better get going so you don’t anger him.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know Koko.” You finally walk away, snatching the keys as you make your way out of the shared penthouse, heading to the car and unlocking the door before hopping in.

You’re not usually one to pick up the men from the club considering how wild they get, usually only Kakucho or Takeomi could handle the ride, though when you do, you’re usually efficient. Even when Sanzu messes with the wheel or Kazutora tickles your neck to distract you. Even when Ran blows smoke in your face or when Rin pours alcohol on you. Mikey’s not with them usually, so you have no idea how that’s going to be, hopefully he stays a little professional considering you’ve never seen him drunk or high.

Worse comes to worse you can use the partition to divide the front seats from the back which is what you’ve done before. Still, who wants to drive a bunch of drunk or high idiots around? Hopefully they’re not too rowdy, they’ve never been bad enough to prevent you from driving all of you home at a good time. You sigh as you pull up in front of the large club, nodding at the security guard to signal your arrival for Bonten. He nods back before walking into the doors.

You scroll on your phone, waiting for what felt like an hour before you heard the car’s doors opening. Laughter and slurred speech could be heard as the men entered the car, your body tensing into professionalism when you see your boss through the rearview mirror enter, tightening your grip on the wheel. Sanzu sits in the passenger seat with a pink face, eyeing you before smirking. You ignore him as you double check that everyone is situated before driving off.

You ignore their conversations, Kazutora, Sanzu, and the Haitani brothers conversing about the women, drugs, and alcohol all the while Mikey eyes the window a dazed look on his expression as well as a warm face. One of your eyebrows raise as you find humor in your boss's look, unknown to whether he was high or drunk though definitely not sober. You continue the drive peacefully in your own zone as you eye the dark road.

“Y/n, why didn’t you come to party?” Kazutora questions with a smile.

“I don’t ‘party’ like you guys.”

“I think we should’ve hired you as a stripper rather than an executive.” Ran says, his eyes slightly narrowing as he smirks in your direction.

“Yeah, I would’ve paid to see you on stage any day.” Rin adds as he eyes your expression from the side.

Of course, you made a mistake in thinking that they might not fuck with you during this ride considering their boss is here. You ignore their remarks as you continue to drive. Your grip clenches around the wheel once more when you feel a poke against your side.

“Heyy! You’re being spoken to.” Sanzu says as he glares at you.

“Yeah don’t ignore us!” Kazutora whines playfully, poking you until you flinch, using one of your hands to swatt him away. You grit your teeth as you feel a cold liquid running down your thigh, glancing over to see Rin pouring his bottle once more as he chuckles and Ran smiles wider, finding humor in torturing you.

“Goddamnit!” You hiss as you snatch the open bottle and throw it out of the window.

“Awe you’re no fun.” Rin frowns, leaning back into his seat with crossed arms. Ran passes the recently lit blunt you hadn’t even noticed to Sanzu who breathed in a huge wad of smoke just to blow it in your face, slightly blocking your vision as you wave it away.

You continue to ignore them considering what they want is a response, so you drive down the road. You don’t notice the way your boss eyes the situation with amusement as well as staring at you through the mirror, warmth from the drug Sanzu gave him invading all of his senses as his face turns darker, heavy eyes shifting around the car.

“Want some, boss?” Kazutora questions Mikey, handing him the blunt as he takes it from him, breathing in a huge hit before blowing it out slowly. They all praise their boss as he relaxes in his seat. You slightly chuckle before focusing your attention back on the road. You just couldn’t help but find humor in your boss’s laid back behavior for once.

“Here.” He leans over to hand it to you, though you only glance at the flower.

“Oh boss, you can keep it, I don’t smoke.” Honestly, you’re lying because you like smoking. You just don’t want to be high around them or behind the wheel.

“Take it.”

“I can’t smoke behind the wheel.” You say sheepishly.

“Pull over.” Your eyes widen. What the hell?

“B-boss, that’s not necessary.”

“Are you defying the King?” Sanzu growls, narrowing his eyes.

“What? N-no, I just…”

“Then why aren’t you listening?” Kazutora questions.

“Boss clearly gave you an order.” Rin says as his brother eyes you.

All of this over a fucking blunt? What's gotten into them?

“Boss, I’m not disrespecting you, I just thought you wanted to get home! I can smoke in the penthouse if anything.”

“Pull over, now.” You didn’t hesitate to find an empty spot to pull over in, parking the car once you reached it with a shaky hand.

This is so weird.

You take the blunt from Mikey’s hand and put it to your lips, inhaling a little before blowing out.

“More.” You look at your boss from the rearview mirror with confusion.

“I still have to drive, I don’t think I should smoke…”

The barrel of a gun to your head causes you to quiet down, eyeing Sanzu who’s holding the weapon.

“What was that?” Ran teases. “Could you repeat what you just said?”

You glare at them before setting it back to your lips, inhaling deeply before you blow out a huge cloud of smoke, tears forming in your eyes as the burning sensation overtakes your throat.

I don’t understand why they’re making such a big deal out of this.

“Since you can’t drive you should sit in the back seat.” Kazutora says with a fake concerned expression.

“I was ordered to be the driver so I’ll be okay. None of you can drive, anyway.”

“No, it’s alright. Come here.” Following your boss’s order, you reluctantly open the door, hopping out of the driver's seat before opening the back door, blunt still in hand.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassment as you climb in, feeling the intense gazes as you settle into your seat squished in between Mikey and Kazutora who don’t bother to move over, the Haitani brothers having already shifted to the empty seats across from you as well as Sanzu who sits beside the siblings, gun hidden. You squirm awkwardly into your seat as you inhale the leaf once more. Holding the smoke in as a hand on your chin forces you to turn to your right.

“Blow into my mouth.” You try to move your head from Kazutora’s hand, the burning sensation catching up to you, forcing you to blow in his direction, his mouth slightly open as he sucks in the air, his lips barely grazing yours.

This is definitely too intimate. What drugs did they take because marijuana doesn’t do this.

The air feels suffocating as warmth builds, gazes becoming heated as your eyebrows furrow. Suddenly, the hand on your chin moves to the back of your head as your lips are forced to meet with Kazutora’s. Your eyes widen as your hands immediately push against his chest, his hold stronger as he keeps you in place, golden eyes staring into your orbs. Biting his lip only caused a moan from him as he leaned into you, the metallic taste mixing in with mary jane and alcohol.

When he finally releases you, because you were still shoving away from him, you accidentally land on your boss’s chest. Immediate fear causes you to sit up, though you were stopped by arms wrapping around your waist, your head resting against his shoulder, positioned in between the leg that's propped on the seat and the other one on the ground as he leans against the door. Kazutora grabs the blunt from you as he takes a hit from it.

“B-boss?” You question as his hands slowly roam up your blouse, your face heated as the warmth of his hands rests on your breasts that are covered by your bra. “W-wait! Mi- boss! Stop!”

“Are you telling me what to do?” His breath causes tingles down your neck as his lips meet your ear.

“Two times in a row, not a good look for you, Y/n.” Ran says, ignoring his erection under his pants.

“Wait, I just need some air or something! I need to be okay to drive!” Your chest rises and falls as Mikey squeezes your breasts, your hands grabbing his wrists to pull them off though his strength is firm, even when intoxicated.

“You’re not being a very good executive, Y/n. So disobedient.” Rin taunts before he grabs one of your ankles, removing your shoe as well as Kazutora doing the same with your other after handing Ran the wood. You attempt to pull your legs back, forgetting how you are the weakest amongst these men. Sanzu moves to the floor board next to the upper half of your body as Ran moves to the lower, unbuckling your pants as you struggle against Mikey’s hold, blunt in his lips.

“Y-yeah I’m telling all of you to stop! This isn’t profession-!” You’re cut off by Sanzu’s lips, his hand cupping your face as Mikey’s tongue slithers against your ear. Saliva falls down your chin as your hand reaches to push against Sanzu’s chest while the Haitani brothers and Kazutora pull down your pants, revealing your panties. Your eyes become wider as you start kicking your legs, whimpering against Sanzu’s mouth as you try to break free only for Kazutora and Rin to hold your legs apart as Ran uses a finger to trail down your slit through the fabric before he hands the leaf to his brother.

One of Sanzu’s hands pulls your blouse over your chest before he moves back to pull it off, Mikey helping in the process as he holds your arms still.

“Guys! You’re too intoxicated! St-stop, now!”

Rin’s lips trail down your leg, rubbing your thigh in the process while the blunt lies in between his index and middle finger. Kazutora mimics, though removing your sock before he licks your foot, a tingling sensation going up your spine.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mikey whispers against your ear, unclipping your bra before he forces it off of you, of course you make it harder by preventing the handles from being removed from your arms. He tears them, throwing your bra to the side as one of his arms circle around your waist while the other hand reaches your nipple. Sanzu grabs the other mound in his hand before he lowers his head, eyeing you through heavy lids, his lips circling around your nub as you frantically try to move.

Ran lowers his head as he uses a finger to move your panties to the side.

“As pretty as I’d thought it’d be.” He says before he uses both hands to pull them down, Rin grabs them as he throws them to the side before handing Sanzu the blunt. Ran analyzes your pussy with a sly smile, using a finger to gather the slight slick that’s formed before sucking his finger and releasing a quiet moan.

“Stop touching me!” You exclaim, everything becoming overwhelming as your boss and coworkers roam your body, Sanzu pulling your nipple as he takes another hit.

“Relax.” He says before placing it against your lips. You move your head away before he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to face him.

“Smoke it.” He demands. You blatantly shake your head.

“No! No more of that or any of this!” You hiss as you move up once more, only for you to let out a high pitched scream of pain once Sanzu places the burning wood against your arm. Tears fall from the pain as your face becomes hot. Your other hand grips the arm that was just burnt. You shakily wipe away the residue ash left on your skin.

“Say that again.” He says before placing the blunt against your mouth. You inhale before holding it in and blowing out once more. He wipes the sweat off your forehead as he keeps it against your mouth, you having to inhale more before breathing the smoke out again, mellowing out although your heart continues to race.

Your body jolts as you feel a wet muscle slithering against your clit. Ran’s tongue flicks your nub before his lips close around, sucking as he slightly bobs his head. Kazutora sucks his fingers before sliding his hand down, bending over as he uses two fingers to ease into your wet pussy. Your hole clenches around his fingers as your hips twitch, biting your lip as you hold back from releasing any sound as your eyes shut tightly.

Suddenly, hands grab your hips as you're pushed up, legs hovering over your head as your body is bent. The wetness moves to your ass as his tongue glides against your anus.

“Hah! Not there! Stop it, please!” Tears fall in humiliation as he eats you out, Rin positioning himself to eat your pussy as Kazutora angles his fingers, gliding in and out slowly as he holds pressure to your g-spot before pulling out again, watching your pussy contract intensely. A tongue runs along your clit repeatedly flicking the nub before he sucks it. Sanzu and Mikey hold up your legs as they kiss and lick your neck before leaving hickeys and pinching the skin between their teeth, Mikey handing Sanzu the roach before he throws it out of the cracked window, returning his hand to your nipple.

As Kazutora accelerates his fingers, your hips slightly meet his hand as the brothers eat you out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head with your mouth slightly ajar, head falling back on Mikey’s shoulder.

“Ran.”

“Yes boss?”

“Pull out my cock.” He complies, pulling Mikey’s sweats down as well as his underwear, revealing his hard girth. You tense once you feel his head against your ass.

“W-wait, Mikey there’s no lube. Please don’t!”

“My King, I can help.” He says with a dazed look.

Mikey eyes him for a second before he nods his head, Sanzu and Ran switching placements as Ran settles next to her upper body and Sanzu moves to Mikey’s throbbing cock. A groan leaves Mikey’s lips, brushing against your ear as Sanzu lowers his head, lips circling around Mikey’s tip before shoving his cock deep within his throat.

You feel your boss’s hips jerk as his head falls back against the car’s window. Another moan leaves his mouth as you hear the mixture of saliva and precum combining as Sanzu pulls his head back and forth steadily, making sure to wet his king’s cock to the fullest.

“Knew he’d be eager to suck Mikey’s cock.” Rin whispers against your pussy as Kazutora and Ran chuckle at his statement. Sanzu pulls his head back and uses his hand to angle Mikey’s cock against your anus. Your body is forced to drop on his thick cock, tears escaping as the pain shoots up your back.

“Fuck!” You cry out, “Take it out! Take it out, you fucking assholes!” Kazutora removes his fingers as Rin pulls back, sitting in their seats as they pull out their own hard cocks, using spit to rub themselves off. Once Mikey’s cock was stuffed all the way into your ass, he held it there as he basked in your warmth. Sanzu hovers over you as he uses his own spit to wet himself. You jolt when his head meets your pussy lips.

Your hands grip Sanzu’s shoulders as he eases into your pussy, fortunately the juice that was already there makes it less painful, though your hole clenched around his girth as you're full from both sides.

“Relax your muscles.” Ran whispers in your ear as his own hand wraps around his cock, while the other caresses your head.

“I can’t! It hurts!” You exclaim as your eyes shut tightly. Your head falls back once more, Ran leaving a kiss along your jaw.

“Yes you can. Just breathe.” You had no choice but to comply as you tried to get through the pain, breathing heavily as Sanzu and Mikey began to move slowly. A drawn out moan escapes Sanzu as the pressure from Mikey’s cock could be felt through your walls, causing extra friction.

Time passed and their hips began to accelerate, the car filling with five men’s moans as all of them thrust their hips, pulsating cocks engulfed in warmth. Sanzu’s cock, angled to hit your g-spot, causes an intense pleasure that contrasts with the lingering pain from Mikey’s cock stretching your ass. The agony numbing out as you begin to fill a pleasurable fullness as your body rocks up and down, nails piercing through Sanzu’s fabric. You grunt as your ass clenches around Mikey’s cock, barely holding back a moan as the friction causes you to near your orgasm.

“Tell me how good it feels.” Mikey hissed against your ear, hand reaching around your throat as he slams his hips against your ass, speeding up.

“It doesn’t!” You cry out. “I-it feels terrible! Get out of me!” A loud moan accidentally leaves your mouth when Sanzu’s pace becomes faster, ambushing your g-spot repeatedly. A sharp pinch against your nipple causes you to yelp.

“Lie again.” Mikey growls, “Tell me the truth or I’ll blow your brains out as soon as I cum.”

“Fuck, this is so hot.” Kazutora hissed as his head falls back, rubbing his cock violently as his erection pulsates in his grip. Rin bites his own lip as he thrusts his hand, rubbing a thumb over his slit as he watches the display.

“Come on, angel. Be good for us, yeah?” Ran breathlessly says as he brings himself closer, hand gripping your head as he ruts against his other hand.

Your body convulses, warmth overcoming your abdomen as your hips grind hard against the two cocks, head back as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream.

“F-fuck! I’m… ah! Cumming!”

“Shit!” Rin hissed as his hand moves faster, your voice turning all of them on as they continue to work for their own orgasm.

You cry out from Mikey and Sanzu continuing their assault, thrusts becoming sloppier as they cause you to overstimulate, your hips frantically grinding back as the feeling becomes all too overwhelming, nose scrunching as your nails scratch Sanzu.

“Say it now! Tell us how good it feels to be full of our cocks! Right now, Y/n!” Sanzu growls, pink hue covering his face as he gazes into your eyes with a lustful, crazed glare.

“Feels good! S’ fucking good, hah! I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum again!”

In reality, post nut clarity will definitely come soon considering how violated you truly feel, though the feeling of being so full and your g-spot being abused causes your body to react, pussy contracting as you’re brought to your second orgasm, the men following along right after as they all release their loads.

You feel Sanzu and Mikey’s cum shoot deeply inside of you, so much coming out as some of the liquid spills out of your ass and pussy.

“Y-you all violated me.” You growl in anger as tears spill from your eyes, cocks pulling out of you causing you to grunt from the residue pain.

“You liked it.” Kazutora frowns as your vision becomes blurry.

“You should rest. Sounds like the weed is getting to your head.” Rin snorts.

Before you could prevent it, your eyes fluttered shut, darkness engulfing you into a deep sleep.

The next day, the men sat in the meeting room, awaiting your arrival. When you didn’t show up, Kakucho went to check your room, only to find you balled up in the blankets on your bed, hiding your whole body.

“Y/n?”

When you didn’t answer, he walked out of the room back towards the meeting to relay the message. The meeting continued without you. When it was over, Kazutora visited your room.

“Y/n? Why are you acting like this?” He says as he sits on the bed next to your figure. His eyebrow raises when his hand reaches your form, squeezing it before he stands up and snatches the blankets back, revealing an empty space.

“Shit!” He hissed in anger.

Two years pass and you just got out of your therapy appointment, walking to your car before you hopped in and drove to your apartment. You knew that the only way you could leave Bonten was by death or running away. So you decided to make a new life for yourself in a different country, far away from Japan.

You knew the job was toxic anyway but you didn’t know that you’d be violated sexually. You’re in a better head space, though you do have moments where you can feel the hands all over you, not scrubbing your body hard enough as your skin raws. Your new boyfriend, along with your friends and therapist have helped you grow positively as you slowly let your past go.

Entering your apartment, you expect to see your boyfriend in the living room on video games, not his limbs detached from his torso, or head decapitated as it’s rolled in between someone’s feet. Nor did you expect to see blood all over your carpet as well as the frames and paintings broken, thrown off the walls, glass shards everywhere. Your trembling hand covers your mouth as you eye the five men you never wanted to see again, staring at you with cold stoic expressions, worse than any angry look you could’ve ever received.

Hyperventilating, you turn on your heel to run back out your front door, only to run into Takeomi’s chest.

“No, no, no! Let me out, Takeomi! You don’t know what they did to me!” Your fists hit his back as he swings you over his shoulder.

“Oh I know. Now they’re pussy whipped and can’t get over you. Not even boss. You’re lucky you’re not gonna be killed, but there’s no way we’re letting you out of our sight again. Consider yourself, Bonten’s property.” He says as he walks to the car.

You continue struggling in his grip as tears leave from your eyes, crying out in anger and devastation over your boyfriend’s gruesome death. The life you created for yourself being torn from your grasp as another thing important is snatched away. You mourn your lost freedom as well as what’s to come.

[sgiandubh]

@outlanderskin :"For those who have doubts: just research a little about Caitríona's dating history. See how she treated Dave and James and how she talked about them in interviews. See how she wrote about the Irish boyfriend she had in Paris in that article. Compare all of this to the impersonal way she treats or talks about Tony. Bingo🙃"

Good point 👌

Dear Good Point Anon,

You know, it's really serendipitous, as I have just finished a weeklong deep dive in very, very old press articles on (or at least mentioning) S and C, who clearly had a life before OL, thinking it would be nice to put some of my archive work skills to good service.

I think @outlanderskin was referring to C's New York Times article I reviewed and analyzed last summer, but I just found way better: a very long report in the Irish Independent's Sunday issue of July 11, 2004, focused on the next generation of Irish supermodels. Of which there could be only one, at that time: C, who dominates Roxanne Parker's 'Through Thick and Thin".

I am sorry, there is no link available to my knowledge, so we'll have to work with these very poor xerox scans:

I took the liberty of generously using my dreaded highlighter and, for the people who need to translate this post with Google, I am now taking my time to type what I find damn interesting in this almost twenty-year old article:

'If Ireland ever has a hope of having its own supermodel, then Caitriona Balfe is it. Sitting in the Pink Pony Café on Ludlow Street in New York, Caitriona swirls a wad of bread into her carrot and coriander soup while informing me that her musician boyfriend just brought her a breakfast-in-bed of cream eclairs and coffee a little over an hour ago. But that doesn't stop Caitriona from finishing her lunch and chasing it with a large cocoa-dusted cappuccino. Ebony-tressed and ivory-skinned, Caitriona clip-clops down the cobbled street after we leave the cafe, heading towards her apartment in Chinatown with Dave Mailone (sic!), the boyfriend, in tow.'

This reads, in 2024, like an interview with a more benevolent C clone from a totally different planet, indeed. A young, carefree, in love and hysterically funny C, who apparently had no problem heavily dishing out happy tidbits of her private life to her home country's press. A C also very much reminiscing anyone with a brain of the 2013-2018 bantering C, as this quote shows:

Again, you'll have to indulge me retyping it, Anon (tedious, I know - but helpful). She is remembering her real breakthrough, in November 2002, at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, in New York:

That was the most I've ever been paid for a show. I've got 18,000 euros for one day's work! They made me get a spray tan before the show, and I was still the whitest and the least well-endowed girl in the entire show! So what did she have to wear on the big day? `Not a whole lot! I think I described my outfit on the day as something Wilma Flintstone would wear on her honeymoon night. There wasn't a whole lot to it and it had bits of fur hanging off it.'

And, for good measure, we even have a (admittedly, awful) picture with the season's fiancé, with whom things did not end well:

I know, it looks like a Pravda pic, circa 1957 and I am honestly sorry. But it's still very clear. And, which is more important, very eloquent.

Anon and reader, you draw your own conclusions on this. I know where I stand. The only guy C has similar pics taken with and released in the press or on social media is the peasant some love to bash every single day in here. Their problem, not mine.

Yes, of course Mordor will yell and hiss. Of course they will throw rotten tomatoes at the blunt knife and scream THIS IS OLD. But hey, do you have any better than this poor (but oh, so endearingly authentic) picture or than any given S&C pic before the fucking EFH and IFH, when she gradually started to turn into today's Reclusive, Restrained and Rarefied Greta Garbo wannabe?

Oh, and please: don't give me the 'he's shy' or the paperwork crap again. Her public persona has drastically changed, and not for the better. It's plain to see and there are reasons for this.

Who's to blame? This question is so wrong, in so many ways.

The question should be 'what's to blame?'

I'll stop here, Anon and I hope it was somewhat useful. Thank you for dropping by.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

New analysis from the University of British Columbia has identified “alarming” issues with the way B.C.’s courts have handled a number requests for injunctions against homeless encampments on public land. Stepan Wood, a professor in the Peter A. Allard School of Law and the Canada Research Chair in Law, Society and Sustainability, analyzed 24 injunction decisions in the province between 2000 and 2022. He describes his findings as “disturbing” in a report released this month called “Rush to Judgement.” “We already knew that the courts were pretty eager to grant injunctions against homeless encampments when governments ask for them, but we didn’t really have a clear picture of exactly how eager,” Wood told Global News. “The key finding was that the picture is actually even worse for homeless encampment residents than we thought.”

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.

AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)

The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.

Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.

He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.

The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.

The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.

The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.

You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.

At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.

Which led you to your current predicament.

There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.

Sergeant Bowers.

Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.

Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.

It was peculiar.

You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."

It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?

A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.

You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.

"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.

"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.

He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.

"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.

You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.

You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"

Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.

You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.

Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.

You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.

"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.

Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.

He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."

You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.

Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.

"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."

"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?

Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.

"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."

"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."

"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.

He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.

"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."

You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.

You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.

He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.

He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk

Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.

Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.

"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."

"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."

"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.

"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."

"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."

"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."

"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.

"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.

Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.

You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.

"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.

"So?"

"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.

"Yeah. We probably should."

"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.

You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"

"I don't understand?"

"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.

"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"

"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"

"14, actually."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."

"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"

"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.

Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"

"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"

"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.

"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.

"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."

You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."

You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.

"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.

"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.

"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.

"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."

fin.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for deleting my classmate's online output in retaliation for previous grievances, & WIBTA if I kept this up?

📚🧪🗑️

(↑ so I know Tumblr didn't toss it into the void)

Take your time reading this before the poll. Trust me, everything matters.

I (16NB) am a student that migrated from the regular 10th grade sections into the top section of my school's STEM program via passing the admission test. I'm part of the very few that made it from the regular sections into such a prestigious senior high strand (which had only 3 sections and ±30 students per section), and the rest of my classmates and batchmates come from specialized programs that they were in since 7th grade. Naturally, they don't know me, and wouldn't think much of me due to my previously "mediocre" background. But really, I was only able to join the STEM strand this year because of financial difficulties during the lockdowns, so my parents could only afford to put me through the regular sections from grades 8 to 10.

Amongst my specialized program classmates was this girl, who I will call V for anonymity. V (16F) struck me as aloof and reserved at first. Our class seating arrangement dictated that I sit near the window farthest from the door, and V near the room exit, so we were 3 columns and one aisle apart, and had no one-on-one interactions so far due to this.

The entire school year in my school is split into two semesters, two quarters each semester, so four quarters. In Q1, I tried signing up for the strand-exclusive club that was practically a boost for report card grades, the STEM club, and we used printed forms. I filled in my form, and V collected the forms from everyone who signed up to give to the STEM club leader. We waited a week for confirmation of our acceptance (which was our forms being given back with a red stamp and the leader's signature) and everyone except me got them back. I asked V if she received my form. "No, you didn't give me any," she had said. I was denied another form by the leader, who accused me of lying about me having already given the form.

I didn't ask for a rivalry, but I had no choice but to be wary.

In Q2, our Earth Science professor gave us a lab activity and grouped us by random. I ended up in a group with V in it. I actively participated in the activity by helping prepare the materials and answering the guide questions on the activity sheet given by our professor, but I was stumped when it came to a question that required some research. Our professor allowed us to assign someone by group to take the activity sheet home and submit a picture instead when we ran out of time, so I went to my group's chat and asked them to wait for me as I finished the answer for that particular question. It took me an hour or so before I finally got the answer. I gave the answer to my groupmates, but V said that they had already turned it in, confirmed by my other groupmates. I asked them "Why did you hurry the submission? We had plenty of time left to refine and finalize the answers." They didn't reply, and they didn't answer me when I brought it up the next day in person. I went to my professor and explained the situation, even providing screenshots of my group messages as proof, but he didn't believe me. However, he did let me write down my answer to the question I was doing research for.

By then, I suspected V had convinced them to submit the activity sheet without me, and going back to Q1, also got rid of my membership form when she had the opportunity. I think she also might have lied to the professor that I wasn't even participating in the lab activity, and damn if he was gullible enough to fall for it.

Come Q3, this current quarter. Our professor in Literature gave us homework to be submitted in Google Drive. I did mine, converted it into the required file format, and had uploaded it to the Drive folder when I came across V's output. I figured it was time she got what was coming when she ruined my reputation to the teaching staff, so I deleted it. I secured my own folder so nobody but I can edit/delete it, just in case. The next day after that, V had nothing for submission and let's just say took some hits when the professor scolded her, and I have plans to get rid of more of her future outputs since we're relying on online tools for turning in homework.

On one hand, I feel a bit bad for doing that, and in addition I'm also scared I may be caught/traced. But on the other, I felt that it was only fair that she experienced even a fraction of humiliation that I faced during Q1 and Q2.

I dunno, Tumblr, AITA for that, and WIBTA for continuing with my plans?

What are these acronyms?

[darknights04]

"You wouldn't Understand."

Pairings: Sebastian Sallow x gn!reader

Summary: Y/n, Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis have been friends since they've been at Hogwarts. When Anne got sick, Y/n offered to stay behind with her. Then one day, Sebastian came to visit them, with a new friend of his in tow.

Warning: Hogwarts Legacy spoilers, Slight gore/violence (duel with a goblin), angst, the Hogwarts legacy mc being a butthead. Not proofread!

Disclaimer: (as most of you know) I do not own any of the characters featured in this story. There will eventually be a second part to this however that won't be until I am able to complete Sebastian's storyline.

Masterlist

Sebastian, Anne, and Y/n have been inseparable from a very young age. All three having grown up in Feldcroft made that fact inevitable. They spent all of their time at Hogwarts together, along with Ominis Gaunt of course. The four of them ate meals together, sat together in class, and spent nearly every night laughing together in the Slytherin common room. 

That all changed when Anne fell ill. 

After Anne was cursed, the pain was far too great for her to keep on attending Hogwarts. She would have to stay home these last few years, away from her friends and away from the magic within the school. Sebastian had immediately volunteered to stay behind with her. Being her twin brother, Sebastian could not imagine going to school without her. But Anne was quick to deny his offer. In his stead, Y/n decided that they would be the one to stay behind with Anne. Neither of the Sallow twins were happy about this arrangement either, but Y/n managed to convince them both with time. They told Anne that as long as the Ministry allowed them to use magic off campus, and professor continued sending assignments by owl, they wouldn’t fall behind. They told Sebastian that he needed time and space in order to research a cure for his sister. Not to mention the fact that Anne would never be completely honest about her state to her brother. Y/n would be his eyes and ears back home, keeping track of Anne and reporting back. 

For a while, this solution worked. All were happy for a time. Sure, Ominis and Sebastion missed their friends at school, but each sent enough owls to compensate for the loss of time they had. Y/n was still learning spells from home, keeping up rather nicely with the rest of the 5th-years all things considered. Sure, their progress would be more proficient from the school, and they couldn’t do everything the same, but it was enough. 

It was an ordinary day when Sebastian had come to surprise his sister, and Y/n of course, with n impromptu visit. Neither expected his arrival, but both were elated upon seeing him. 

Anne had been sitting at the dining room table, reading one of her books as usual while Y/n was reading through their schoolwork behind the hanging  curtains used to separate the bedrooms when he arrived. Y/n heard the front door open, sure, but they simply pictured it had been Anne’s uncle, Solomon, heading outside to finish his work. It wasn’t until Anne gasped with delight that they had turned to find Solomon, still standing in his spot behind them. 

“Sebastian!” Y/n heard Anne announce. Now they were quickly heading into the main foyer of the house as well. “Where did you-”

Before Anne could finish, Y/n took advantage of the small space between the twins and jumped up to give Sebastian the biggest hug they could muster. “Sebastian!” they celebrated as well. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you both,” he said with a smile. “Hogwarts is not the same without you.” 

As Y/n opened their eyes, still hugging the boy in front of them, they noticed another person standing behind. 

“Who’s this?” Anne asked curiously. Y/n stepped back to allow Sebastian space to introduce his new friend. 

“Oh, of course,” Sebastian said, nearly seeming to have forgotten. Whether he had forgotten that the new student was there or that the two hadn’t met them yet, Y/n didn’t know. “Anne, Y/n. This is Jo. The new fifth year I was telling you about.” 

“Hello, Jo,” Anne said with a polite smile. Y/n offered a small wave yet no words left their mouth. 

“How do you do?” Jo replied, returning Anne’s grin. 

“When I told them I was coming to visit they wanted to come with and meet you,” Sebastian continued, nudging Anne slightly as he did so.

“And you as well, Y/n,” Jo finished, still smiling although now it felt more awkward than polite. “Ominis always seems to talk about you both nonstop. Sebastian too.”

“Does he?” Anne chuckled. “Oh how I do miss Ominis. How is he doing?” 

“He’s Ominis,” Sebastian responded, returning Anne’s small laugh. “He’s been a bit perturbed lately.” 

“Oh?” Y/n said, speaking up for the first time since introductions have been made. “Why is that?”

“He’s rather upset that Sebastion has shown me the Undercroft I think.”

“The Undercroft?” Y/n repeated, both their and Anne’s face exhibiting pure shock. “Seb’s shown you the Undercroft?” 

“Just so they would have a space to pracice their spells,” Sebastian defended. “Catching up to five years worth of teachings takes time and space after all.”

“Which I’m sure the professors have more than happy to supply?” Anne asked with a slight tone of sarcasm.  

“You can’t be upset with me, Anne,” Sebastian said, his straight face slowly turning into a slight smirk. “Look what I’ve brought you.” 

Sebastian pulled a small fruit out of seemingly no where as Anne let out a small gasp. 

“Is that what I think it is?” 

It was then that their Unlce Solomon spoke up, snatching the fruit from his hand before Anne could reach it. 

“Hey!” Sebastian protested. 

“We’ve been over this, boy,” he began. “Shrivelfigs cannot reverse a curse, nothing can! The sooner you accept that reality the better.” With that, he pulled out his wand and evaporated the fruit into thin air. 

“But we haven’t tried everything!” Sebastian combatted. 

“There is no cure!” Solomon yelled. “When will you accept that?!” 

“Never! I can never accept that!” 

“Sebastian!” Y/n called as Anne had suddlenly been toppled over by sudden onslaughts of pain. Right as they got his attention, Anne screamed out from the pain. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” Solomon lectured, rushing the Anne’s aid alongside Y/n. Sebastian was at a loss for words for a moment. 

“A-Anne I’m sorry,” he stuttered before Solomon turned to growl at him once more. 

“Leave,” was all he said. Sebastian didn’t put up a fight. Jo followed out right behind him. 

“Sebastian, wait!” Y/n called out, rushing out the door behind them. 

“If you don’t mind, I just need a moment alone,” they heard him say to Jo. Jo stepped aside right away, but Y/n knew better. 

“Seb!” they called again.

“I don’t wish to talk about it, Y/n.” 

“Yes, you do,” they responded simply. “Sebastian Sallow I have known you for well over a decade now, I know when you need to vent.” 

“I shouldn’t have come,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll see you later, Y/n.” 

Y/n watched behind as Sebastian turned to leave, Jo following close behind. Y/n didn’t know how long they were standing there before Anne slowly made her way out the door, placing a hand on their shoulder.

“You should be resting,” Y/n said simply, a longing gaze still following where Sebastian had left. 

“I know,” Anne smiled. “I don’t like them.” 

“Who?” 

“Who do you think?” 

“Yeah,” Y/n sighed. “I don’t like them either.” 

---

It had been weeks since you had last spoken to Sebastian. He had sent you an owl or two since the last he visited Feldcroft, but you’ve heard nothing since. 

“Have you heard anything?” they has asked Anne after a few minutes of silence during dinner.

“From Sebastian?” she confirmed. “No, not since his last owl. I’m a bit worried.” 

“So am I.” 

The pair fell into a pregnant silence once again, neither wanting to express what they both feared. 

“You should tell him,” Anne spoke up after another moment. 

“Tell him what?”

“How you feel.” 

“No!” 

“Why not?” 

Y/n sighed. “The four of us have been friends for as long as I can remember. The three of us even longer. He doesn’t see me in that way.” 

“How would you know that if you don’t say anything?” 

“Because, Anne! I can tell.” The two fell silent again, but this time only for a second. Anne stayed quiet because she knew that Y/n had more to say, her silence was her own way of encouraging them to do so. “It’s just…” Y/n continued. “You say how he was acting around Jo. You saw the way they made his eyes sparkle. He’s never looked at me like that.” 

“He only looks at you like that,” Anne quickly combatted. “I didn’t see that familiar gleam in his eye until you walked in that day. That ‘sparkle’ you saw was not reserved for Jo. It was for you.” 

“I would have seen it before,” Y/n shrugged. “If I was able to notice it then I should have been able to see it if it was there in the past.” 

“But it has been!” she insisted. “Trust me! Every longing glance, every wistful stare, I have had to watch Sebastian give you. You’ve just never seen it because you were too busy giving him the same look.” 

Y/n sat and thought about it for a moment. Anne was right. At least, they hoped she was. And they weren’t going to waste any more time. Without another word, Y/n rushed to their shared bedroom with Anne, rummaging through everything to find a spare piece of parchment. When they found one, they began to write. 

My dearest Sebastian,   they wrote

I’ve spent enough years waiting for the right time to tell you this, but I think the time has come. Seb.. I -

Their writing was cut off by a loud bang coming from outside. Y/n whipped their head up and took their wand out quickly, slowly approaching a window. They half expected to see one of the Feldcroft residents using confringo or bombarda on a nearby training dummy. But what actually awaited them outside was much worse. 

Feldcroft was under attack.

Goblins, aall Ranrok’s followers were storming the village. Solomon could be heard hollering from them outside. It wasn’t until Anne shouted that Y/n sprang into action. 

“Anne!” they called, bursting through the front door of the Sallow’s house. Anne was crouch over near the ground, panting for breath as more goblins began to storm the village. “Where is everyone?” they wondered allowed, seeing no one but themself and the Sallows defending the village.

“Probably hiding in their cellars,” Solomon concluded before raising his voice so they could hear and shouting out, “COWARDS!” 

No matter what the trio did, more goblins seemed to keep coming. Y/n didn’t know what they were after, but they didn’t wish to find out. 

Then, out of no where, Sebastian had arrived with Jo trailing close behind. The two didn’t hesitate before jumping into action, helping the other three defend from the goblins attacking. The battle seemed to never end. 

Y/n and Anne had finished off the last of the goblins surrounding them, stopping for a moment to take a small rest. Before they knew it, another goblin was approaching Anne with his sword raised above his head, Anne didn’t have time to react. Just as Y/n began lifting their wand once again, she heard someone else shout from across the square, “Imperio!” 

They turned to see Sebastian holding his wand out towards the goblin, a sinister look in his eyes that were partially clouded over. 

“Sebastian,” they gasped in slight disbelief, standing up from their crouched position on the ground. Before anything else could be said, everyone watched as the goblin before them brought his own sword to his neck, and sliced it. Y/n’s hands flew to their mouth. Anne gasped from her spot on the ground, her eyes widening in fear. They were each frozen. Sebastian ran to Anne and offered his hand to her to help her up. Anne looked at him in fear, unmoving.

“Boy, what have you done!” Solomon spat in his direction, rushing between he and Anne.

“Saved my sister!” Sebastian combatted. “I-”

“With an unforgivable curse! From that damned book no doubt!” he continued, helping Anne off the ground and ushering her inside. “Your father would be ashamed! You’ve gone too far, Sebastian. Stay away from her. From all of us.” 

As Solomon led Anne inside, Y/n stayed standing where they were, eyes focused unwarily at Sebastian as Jo ran inside, no doubt to defend his actions to his family. 

“Y/n,” he said slowly, almost begging as he approached them. “Please, you have to understand that I-” 

“This isn’t the first you’ve used dark magic, is it?” they asked simply. 

“I would never-” 

“You have to mean it to cast those curses.” 

“I had to protect Anne! Surely you can understand that.” 

“I love Anne as dearly as you do,” they began. “But Seb, she doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want you to lose yourself for her. In the end, none of us win that way.”

“I did what I had to do. To protect her. You would have done the same.”

“There are a hundred other spells you could have used to ‘protect’ her!” Y/n combatted. “All of which have not been labeled as dark, unforgivable magic!” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

At this, Y/n scoffed. “Me? I wouldn’t understand? I have been here  every day, Sebastian! While you and Ominis are at school, I’m here. With Anne. I watch her struggle every day and I would give anything to take that away from her. So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t understand.” 

“Y/n!” Sebastian called as they turned away from him, walking back towards their house. Y/n didn’t turn back. They didn’t want him to see the small tears welling up in their eyes. 

Meanwhile, Jo was exploring the Sallow house, trying to comfort Anne and defend Sebastian’s actions to his uncle. While looking around, they found the letter Y/n had begun writing to him. After reading it, Jo looked left and right to see no one was watching and muttered a quiet “Incendio,” under their breath, watching as the small parchment that never got to see the light of day burned to ash. Burned to nothing.

[downbadf0rficppl]

let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.

AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)

Repost

The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.

Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.

He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.

The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.

The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.

The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.

You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.

At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.

Which led you to your current predicament.

There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.

Sergeant Bowers.

Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.

Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.

It was peculiar.

You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."

It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?

A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.

You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.

"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.

"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.

He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.

"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.

You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.

You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"

Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.

You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.

Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.

You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.

"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.

Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.

He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."

You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.

Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.

"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."

"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?

Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.

"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."

"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."

"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.

He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.

"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."

You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.

You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.

He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.

He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk

Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.

Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.

"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."

"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."

"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.

"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."

"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."

"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."

"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.

"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.

Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.

You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.

"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.

"So?"

"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.

"Yeah. We probably should."

"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.

You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"

"I don't understand?"

"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.

"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"

"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"

"14, actually."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."

"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"

"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.

Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"

"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"

"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.

"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.

"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."

You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."

You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.

"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.

"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.

"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.

"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[ggomos-maribat]

4 | about the Paris Mademoiselle

Part 4 of Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Dead | Masterlist

After hearing out Adrien's suggestion on where to have a meal, Tim and Jason ended up in the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

Might as well check out where she lived, right? Tim looked around the homey place as the overhead bell chimed behind them. It was small, simple: glass cases enclosing an assortment of doughnuts, croissants, danishes, eclairs, cookies, pies, and even single-tiered cakes. There was a tip jar next to the register labeled with a cute scribble, positioned next to a statuette of the Eiffel. Warm scents wafted from the kitchen at the back, and Tim could even pick up the faint smell of caffeine from the coffee-making station.

He and Jason took their seats near the register, allowing Tim to peer at the picture frames hung up on the wall. Though most of the photos were mundane, one stood out at the center: a picture of Marinette standing behind the counter, dressed in an apron and a bright grin.

"You're still not allowed to drink coffee," Jason said suddenly.

"I wasn't going to." He rolled his eyes.

From looking around, there didn't seem to be too many 'hints' of Marinette around aside from the photos.  The place seemed moderately busy, with a short-haired woman—Sabine Cheng perhaps?—manning the register.

Tim lined up behind two women pointing at the pastries. The blonde one wearing a blue dress pointed at the glass. "Hey, those pink macarons! Weren't they her favorite?"

The other woman, cropped pixie cut, elbowed her companion, hissing, "Rory!"

Then, she turned to Sabine Cheng, "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Cheng."

"It's quite alright, dears." There was a fond sparkle on the eyes of the older woman. "You're right, those macarons were her favorite."

Tim and Jason shared a look. 'Her' . . . did that mean Marinette? Quickly, he took his phone out to make a quick profile search—the two customers turned out to be former students of Francois Dupont, but not part of Marinette's class: Mireille Caquet and Aurore Beauréal. Both were based outside of Paris but still within Europe, and seemed to be back in the city for a brief visit.

"We'll take those macarons, Mrs. Cheng." Aurore smiled apologetically. "And two coffees, please."

"Of course. It's on the house, girls."

Mireille paused from reaching for her wallet. "No, you don't have to!"

"I insist. You're only here for a few days, yes? Consider it a welcome back home."

After the girls politely extended their thanks, Tim ordered lunch for himself and Jason, whilst paying close attention to the macaron selection. Pink strawberry macarons, huh? He thought. That does suit her.

He lent Jason his phone for him to take a look at his brief research about the two women. "They knew her, I think." Tim stole a glance at the next table. "Not very close, but she helped them out during their reporter gigs."

"There's nothing out of place around here," Jason commented as he idly read over the profiles.

"One camera pointing at the front door, and one at the back door. There are barely any blind spots, but if she did slip past surveillance, the streets on the way to bridge should've caught her at least." Tim's expression twisted.

"Tampering?"

"Doubt it. It doesn't look edited." Tim shrugged. "I asked Babs to be sure and she says so."

He took out the small wrinkled list from his pocket and cleanly crossed out Adrien's name. Can we ask those two women? It didn't feel right interrogating them out of the blue, especially when they were in Marinette's family bakery, with her mother close by. Still, it was an opportunity for them.

Jason even looked like he was ready to ask.

"Jay, come on, we have to think this through."

"Dickie would ask if he were here."

"Dick's a smooth-talker. We're not."

Jason tilted his head. "We have Adrien's excuse."

"Er, hello? It's still bad timing."

"Fine. Let's just go over what we have then."

"She was bullied, even though the school records said otherwise; she was involved in multiple extracurriculars; and according to both her friend and parents, she wasn't acting odd before her death," Tim listed off from the top of his head.

"If she wanted to expose Lilia, then . . . isn't that a motive?"

How much of that conflict could've elevated into murder? Tim couldn't piece it together. He didn't want to rule out everything else just because Lilia Ross was so easy to accuse. "Tricky part is that Lilia actually has an alibi that time."

Jason's eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Two years ago, she was just starting things out with her brand and during the week Marinette died, she was on another part of France, having product meetings with her suppliers." And that alibi was airtight.

"Okay, fine, let's back up. The rest of the class was on Lila's side. Is it possible that it was any of them?" Jason suggested.

"They don't exactly have alibis, but I can't track down where exactly each of them were on that day either." Tim glanced at the other table, where Sabine Cheng served the girls their orders, plus free croissants as well. "And going back to the details of it, could they have pulled off something as—er—clean of evidence as that?"

"A lot of them are rich kids, you know."

"Fine, then say we suspect someone else in their class, do you really think any of them would have the heart to do . . . that to their classmate?"

"Who else could've had a vendetta against her?

One name occurred in Tim's mind, a flash of dark purple and gentle wings. He hesitated a little before saying, "Hawkmoth."

"Hawkmoth?"

"That's the only one I can think of, okay!" Tim shifted in his seat, and then lowered his voice. "Apart from Adrien, Marinette had been the only one to never have been akumatized in their class. That kind of strength to resist akumas is something Hawkmoth would prey on."

"I think you overlooked one problem here, Timbers." Jason looked unimpressed. "Hawkmoth was defeated five months before she died. Ladybug herself said that his Miraculous was taken from him."

"I don't know, maybe he's still a powerful person behind the mask. Or like, it was an accomplice."

It was tricky that Hawkmoth's real identity wasn't ever revealed despite his defeat. It caused quite an uproar within Paris, but Ladybug was set on that decision. As for the reason, all Tim could think of is that the heroes were trying to avoid backlash on whoever was close to the 'real' Hawkmoth.

"You're saying he was fixated on this one girl he can't akumatize?" asked Jason.

"Are you saying that your theory is more likely?" Tim retorted back.

"I'm saying we need so much more evidence to figure this thing out."

Tim sighed audibly. It was true that they were fully basing their guesses on speculations. If they could dig a little bit deeper, they should find a clue that leads to the truth.

"Monsieurs."

Tim stiffened all over in just a span of a second. Were we too loud? When he looked up, both Aurore and Mireille were standing by their table. He quickly checked if Sabine Cheng had heard anything, but she seemed preoccupied with the pastries, fortunately.

"Were you talking about . . ." Aurore whispered. "Marinette?"

"No," Tim lamely replied.

Mireille crossed her arms. "You were. We heard. What is going on?"

"There has been an anonymous request to reopen the investigation," Jason lied smoothly, eyes flickering over to the counter. "But you must understand that her parents are not to be involved."

"What is the reason for this 'reopening'?"

Before Tim or Jason could say anything, Aurore spoke: "Lila. It's Lilia Ross, isn't it?"

"We're not on her side, if that's what you're thinking," said Tim hastily. "Maybe there's something you know?"

Both girls looked at each other, as if sharing a silent conversation. Then, Mireille answered morosely, "We wish we knew more. We couldn't pry into it because she closed herself off from us—even Marc Anciel, one of our common friends."

"Did you know what Lilia Ross did to her?"

"We saw what she did," Aurore said bitterly. "Poor Mari couldn't even catch a break; she was never herself anymore."

"We could've done more," Mireille mumbled. "We tried looking for more information about her death but . . . there's nothing. We even asked Monsieur Raincomprix—that's the father of one of our schoolmates, he was part of the investigation team—and he never said a word."

Aurore nodded, "No one from the police disclosed it."

"Why did they leave the case?" Tim asked. "Did her parents ask . . .?"

Yet again, the two shared a look before Aurore said, "There was someone who asked for the investigation to be closed. Her parents had no choice but to consent to it."

"There was someone pulling the strings from behind?" Jason frowned.

Mireille pinched the bridge of her nose. "Looked like it. That's the only thing we know." She heaved out a sigh. "Actually . . . there is one person who might know or has the means to find out. We can't approach them because, well, it is simply too awkward but maybe the two of you will have more luck. She actually flew over from New York yesterday."

"Who?" Tim leaned in.

"The editor-in-chief of Paris Mademoiselle, Chloe Bourgeois."

***

"What's CEO Timothy Drake-Wayne doing investigating the death of a French teenager?"

Tim internally winced, not anticipating that Chloe Bourgeois had recognized him. The blonde had surprisingly let them into her office (which was also surprisingly extremely messy) next to Le Grand Paris Hotel. Their encounter reminded Tim of a principal's confrontation with students—Chloe's eyes were unwaveringly cold towards them.

"He's just tagging along for my case." Jason brandished a fake ID, naming himself as a private consultant. "We're here at an anonymous request to re-investigate the incident. We want to ask you about Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Who requested it?"

"We can't say—"

"Was it Adrien?"

Jason shook his head calmly. "We can't disclose any details."

Chloe sighed in exasperation. Like with Adrien, the exhaustion behind her face but she hid it more loosely. Even deeper than that, Tim saw fatigue, restlessness, jetlag, a hint of sadness.

"She was my classmate," Chloe began. "Well, I think she should be more than that to me. I've known her since kindergarten. She was always top of the class, all smiles, kind to a fault, so much of a klutz, habitually late . . ." She paused. "I was just her bully."

She has that deep faraway gaze. If there was anyone who didn't bother to hide the hurt from losing Marinette, it was her. Chloe Bourgeois. "I've known her since kindergarten but we were never friends. It's my petty jealousy's fault, I don't know. Even if I mocked her so many times, she always fought back in some way. She had such a sharp tongue. She despised me as much as I despised her.

"Did you know she had a crush on Adrien? I bet you didn't. It was embarrassingly massive that she'd trip all over the place. I'd pick on her about it." She fiddled with a button on her blazer. "The crush mellowed out over time but—but everything about her mellowed out so much. I don't know why I did anything but I asked my Dad how she died. No matter how much I begged, he said 'his hands were tied'. Believe me, my father always gave anything I asked.

"You won't believe how devastated everyone was when she was gone. My dad cried. Hell, my mother shed a tear. Andre the ice cream man cried. Nadja Chamack broke down on live TV. Everyone outside our class cried. Her friends who abandoned her had the audacity to fucking cry. It was like the whole city was grieving. You know why? Because Hawkmoth was already gone at that time. Everyone thought it was finally our time to heal but nooo, they didn't see how much it took a toll on those who barely kept it together the whole time.

"Marinette was never akumatized. She's been targeted by so many akumas, had so much done to her but I never once saw her break. Not even close. Of course she wasn't fucking okay enduring all of that. Of course I had to be the idiot who never tried to apologize to her," Chloe spat out. "There. There's my statement."

Tim felt so pinned down by her gaze. The irony . . . it was Chloe who talked more about her than Adrien.

Jason cleared his throat. "There's one more thing. Lilia Ross—"

"Lila?" She sneered. "No, don't get me started on her. You should be smarter than believing that stupid act she puts on."

"Did her transfer . . . change Marinette somehow?"

"Uh, yeah! She practically lost all her friends," she scoffed. "I'd say everything was going downhill at about Quatriéme, but steeply when Lila showed up."

"Why? What was in Quatriéme?"

Chloe raised a judgmental eyebrow.

"When Hawkmoth first showed up," Tim mumbled. "Did you collect other evidence aside from asking your father? Didn't you ever want to know why?"

"It's useless. I have other things taking up my time right now." But in Chloe's eyes, Tim could clearly see that she wanted to know. Desperately.

"Besides," Chloe added, "My dad's not mayor anymore. I can't exactly pull any strings."

"Do you know anyone else we can ask?" Jason questioned.

"Not really." Her voice turned soft. "I'm not in close contact with anyone anymore. But there's something I've been wondering about myself, and maybe you can look into it."

Chloe reached up to rub her shoulder. "Those rumors online about Lila. They turned up out of the blue, didn't they? Now, who's exactly behind all of that?"

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @toodaloo-kangaroo @missmadwoman @afanofmanyships @atomicherringpersonjudge-blog @wheredostarsgowhenyoudie

[whumblr]

A terrible price

Hello, I had a very awful thought and I'll let you all suffer with me :) Pls don't hate me.

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

TW: Character death :)

-

So, what if Zayne had won. What if he’d managed to 'convince' Jay to give up his research. Maybe after a particular nasty evening, with Jay covered in blood just sobbing and shouting "Fine! Okay! You win!” And he actually does as Zayne says. No more trying to nail Emery. Just letting things play out to let Zayne clear his debt and walk away.

Zayne is satisfied.

And over the next couple of weeks, his mood improves with every passing day.

Even Jay can’t resist to go along with Zayne’s bright mood. Everything feels lighter, even Zayne’s visits. Sure, Zayne still torments him, but not as much as when he wanted to break him, and Jay finds himself, just like Zayne, looking forward to when Zayne can finally say he is debt-free and breaks free from Emery.

He’s practically counting down the days, sure that after Zayne’s life improves, so will his.

But one day, Zayne suddenly stops visiting.

Jay is relieved at first. Pretty sure that, well, this was it. But something is gnawing at him. Surely Zayne would drop by to ‘celebrate’ his freedom and maybe tell Jay that he was packing up and leaving. Or drop hints that his last job was going to be soon. This is strange. And something’s not right. But his new-found freedom makes it somewhat impossible to focus on anything but the fact that he can finally try to take the first few steps to closure.

Then a couple days later when he arrives at work in the morning, Dennis is waiting for him in the lobby. Wearing a grave and somewhat unreadable expression on his face. Jay remembers he received a phone call the day before, shot Jay a sharp glance, but just grabbed his things to rush out of the building.

He now leads Jay into a meeting room, fiddling with a paper file in his hands.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to take this,” he starts, a meek gesture to them alone in the room.

Jay doesn’t respond, doesn’t know how to respond and Dennis continues after a deep breath:

“They found Zayne's body in the river.”

Jay just gives him a blank stare. Merely blinks. Everything, from his thoughts to his expression, just stops moving. Until the gravity of those words fully hits him and he realises what’s going on.

Zayne is…

His lips slowly part as his jaw drops. His thoughts go from zero to full speed in a matter of seconds. His mouth moves, stuttering out fragments of words, unable to fully form even a single word.

“You need prove,” Dennis’ voice breaks through his thoughts. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” His mouth feels dry and he eyes the file in Dennis’ hands.

“It’s not pretty.”

“I need to see it.”

Dennis hands him the file. A police report. Autopsy report.

And on the first page he is immediately greeted by a headshot of… something that resembles Zayne.

His face is all bloated. His eyes are closed, skin discoloured, hair flat on his head. Everything that made Zayne ‘Zayne’ is just… gone; his expression, his smile, his swiped back hair. Now it’s just… a body. With his eyes closed he could almost look peaceful and while the water erased most signs of violence, there’s still something eerie about certain spots on his face that don’t a complete picture, as if parts have been erased. Black and blue parts.

With every page he turns, he quickly swipes his hand over the pictures, not wanting to see. Just reading the cold, medical terms on what happened is hard enough. The words blur together and he only sees things like stabbed several times, lacerations, bruises, breaks, collarbone, ribs, wrists—

“I thought I’d be relieved…” he finally says, over the hand covering his mouth.

“Me too.”

He’s just too late covering a picture on the next page of Zayne’s torso, covered in stab wounds. The lines are clean, but something about them still makes his stomach churn. Something about the placement of the wounds that betrays a precision to avoid any fatal harm. He notices the old scar on his abdomen and for some reason that really hammers home that this puffed up body on a slab really is - was - Zayne.

“What was the fatal one?” He hears his own voice, brittle.

Dennis turns a few pages back and points at the picture. That’s when Jay notices the line over Zayne's throat. There’s a sharp intake of breath.

A little voice in the back of his head manages to make things even worse: did they use Zayne’s own knife?

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Every bit of relief is squashed by something heavy. His heart is racing. His hand is shaking and just doesn’t want to leave his mouth, as if he’s gonna throw up immediately once he removes it.

And he feels something wet against his fingertips.

“No I... why...?!” He takes his glasses off and furiously swipes his sleeve over his cheekbones. “Why am I upset about… about Zayne?!” he cries out, brushing tears away as soon as they appear, as if he can erase any evidence of the bitterness swirling inside.

“You don’t have to cry for the man who did those awful things to you…” Dennis says, voice soft. “It’s okay to cry for the man they dragged out of the water.”

Something doesn’t quite break but Jay feels something crack. Tears seep through it and he finally just slumps down on a chair, catching his head in his hands.

“This is too cruel. He… he didn’t deserve this. Not like this.”

Nor do I! This isn’t the happy ending he wanted! Everything, going back to his old life, his freedom, his recovery, is going to be overshadowed by this. How could he ever be relieved that he was going to be left alone now, happy that Zayne would never visit again, when he knows—

And Zayne… he was so happy these last few days. So sure that his freedom was near. And everything was ripped away. Cruelly punished for doing just as he was asked to do, for making it to the end, for merely existing. For meeting the wrong man.

“I was going to say… call in sick and go home but—”

“But home is no longer safe,” Jay finishes. It wouldn’t take long before Emery would tie up the last loose end. “When was he killed?”

“About five days ago.”

“You’d think Emery would be on my doorstep four days ago then…”

“I’m not going to take any risks. I’m going to finish up, talk to Luke to see if we can arrange some protection and you’re staying with me.”

Finally free. It cost a terrible price. And even now he still isn't free at all. A bigger threat still looms over them all. And it wouldn’t be satisfied with just its first victim.

Things might actually take a turn for the worse.

-

Suffer List Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful

[lonesome-witching]

Do You Like Me?

Another day another prompt. I got an anonymous request to write a prompt in which Nancy reports on a football game and rides with the band on their bus. It also includes a tad bit of jealous Nancy. Enjoy!!

Do you have any prompts yourself? Or do you want to dive into what I wrote before? You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

Nancy loved the newspaper. She loved writing the articles and doing the research. It felt like a place she belonged. It felt like she finally found something she liked. There was just one part she disliked. Perhaps even hated. It was reporting on the Hawkins High sport games. The basketball and football and soccer.

She usually delegated the task to someone else, until today. She couldn’t get out of this one. Not when Hawkins High was so close to not only being the basketball state champions, but also the football state champions. Something like this had never happened before in a small town like Hawkins. So, Nancy had to report on it.

Jonathan Byers had been dragged along to take some pictures. They had known each other their whole lives but had only recently become friends while working on the paper together.

“Where are we supposed to go? There are two busses,” Nancy asked, already frustrated.

“We usually ride with the band, I honestly think it’s better that way,” Jonathan replied, toying with the camera that was already hanging around his neck.

“Which bus is theirs?”

Jonathan looked up, his eyes searching for the green marching band uniforms. “That one.” He pointed at the bus furthest from them where a group of girls stood talking with their hats in one hand and their instruments in the other.

Nancy recognized some of them. A girl named Kate who gossiped a bit too often, the red head was named Veronica or Victoria or something like that, and Robin Buckley. Nancy knew Robin. They had sort of become friends over spring break. Maybe not just sort of. They were friends, officially. Nancy could feel the smile forming on her face. She hadn’t told Robin she’d be here. It could be a pleasant surprise.

“C’mon, wouldn’t want them to leave without us.” Jonathan started walking towards the bus. Nancy cleared her throat and followed.

By the time she reached them Robin had already gotten onto the bus. Nancy pulled herself onto the vehicle. She tried to find Robin, hoping to see an empty spot next to her. She was disappointed when she saw that the red head had taken a seat next to her. With a sigh she fell down next to Jonathan.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, of course.” Nancy turned in her seat to look at Robin. What she hadn’t expected was for Robin to look over at that exact moment. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Instead, she simply waited for their eyes to meet.

Robin raised her hand, waving excitedly. “Nance, hi!”

Nancy waved back with a small smile on her lips. This was getting ridiculous. It was one thing to be glad to have a new friend, a real friend, it was a whole other thing to stare at her from afar with a smile on her face. She had to get herself in check.

Her notepad was probably her best solace. She doodled a bit on one of the pages. Drawing figures that looked oddly similar to hearts. What would be next? Would she be writing Nancy + Robin into the shapes? Or would she be writing Nancy Buckley all over it? She thought Robin Wheeler sounded better anyway.

She turned around again. Robin seemed entertained by her neighbor’s conversation. She should be glad that Robin had friends. The girl seemed nice enough. Yet, Nancy couldn’t shake the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was foreign and unpleasant. The red head grabbed Robin’s hand, seemingly toying with her fingers as she smiled up at her through her lashes.

Something within her snapped. Nancy jumped up from her seat, stepping over to Robin’s seat.

“Hi, Robin. How are you doing?” Nancy asked, her voice sugar sweet.

“I’m alright, how are you?” Robin’s eyes looked up at her with those lovely blue eyes.

“I’m good, I’m good. So happy to see you.” Nancy turned toward the red head. “Is it alright if I sit here? I just really would love to catch up with my friend.”

The girl’s eyes searched for something when she gazed at Robin, but whatever it was she didn’t find it. The red head sighed and stood up. “Sure,” she muttered.

Nancy fell down next to Robin. Her hand itched to reach for her friend’s, the one the red head had been holding earlier.

“What was that for?” Robin asked, but when Nancy looked over there was a smile on her face.

“What was what for? I just wanted to sit next to my friend. We are still friends, right?” Nancy’s hand reached for Robin regardless of what her mind was warning her for.

“Of course, we are, Nance. I’m just wondering why you scared Vickie away.”

“I didn’t scare her away.” The look on Robin’s face made it obvious she wasn’t taking that as an answer. “Fine, I might have scared her away. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted to sit next to you, and I was annoyed she had taken my seat. But to be fair, she got you for about half of the ride. I’m taking you for the other half.”

“Taking me?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Robin’s eyes fell to their entangled hands resting in her lap. Her thumb stroked Nancy’s knuckles. It felt nice.

“I think you do, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“Oh,” Nancy sighed. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure she knew why she did it anyway. She couldn’t explain herself to Robin.

“Your hands are cold.”

“I’m sorry.” Nancy wanted to pull her hand back, but Robin wouldn’t let her, holding on to her hand.

“No, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“Do you like her?”

“I used to.” Robin placed her free hand over Nancy’s. Slowly warming up her fingers.

“Do you like me?”

Robin tensed up, stilling her movements. Nancy thought that was a yes. She hoped it was. The bus stopped. The doors opened. Robin let go of her hand.

[eetherealgoddess]

i’ve been getting some requests on wattpad so i thought i should finally write one of them <3

reader operates as both a cop and detective btw

ꨄEdge Of The Lawꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’re a detective who has spent years trying to take down Bonten❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Edge Of The Law

It had been years since you hopped on the case regarding the infamous criminal organization Bonten. Having put in an exceeding amount of work in tracking their illegal endeavors as well as the individuals who cause the gang activities to soar. So far the only information you have been able to obtain was that you have a few traitor cops in your vicinity, one who very well may be the chief.

Unfortunately, the only proof you’ve received was during a personal outing of your own. You sat on a stool in the dimmed bar, a low melody playing in the background from the speakers connected to the ceiling. Only a few people were scattered around the room, sitting in their own booths or a couple stools down from you, sipping on their drinks as they talked amongst themselves. Your bartender had just finished your drink, sliding it over as you immediately downed the beverage.

“Damn, tough day?” The woman chuckled, continuing to make the other customers’ drinks as she conversed with you.

“You could say that.” You motion for another as you remember the frustrating discovery of all the paperwork you had on the case completely missing, nowhere to be found. You could only determine that it was an inside man’s job, a dirty cop who knew exactly where to find the confidential information.

After downing four shots while conversing with the bartender, you walk towards the bathroom. After releasing your fluid and washing your hands, you stepped out of the bathroom, perking up when you noticed a familiar individual who just exited the male’s bathroom. Although he wore casual clothing, you could tell he was your chief, having worked under the guy for years.

You follow him from afar, dropping some cash on the bar table as you make your way outside. You stood at the corner of the building, staring ahead as you peaked around the wall into the alleyway. You crouch as you make a run for the dumpster, basically prancing on your tiptoes so he wouldn’t catch you there. You kneel on the dirty ground, peaking out to watch him.

The chief stood in front of a tall man wearing a suit. You couldn’t hear anything but slight chatter, both parties standing too far for you to hear the conversation so you took a moment to view the suspect in front of your boss. One of his hands moved to swipe through his hair, fingers entangling with short purple strands. His purple irises gaze ahead lazily as his expression remains blank. What stood out to you the most was that symbol on his neck, prominent and black.

“That symbol…” You murmured to yourself before taking your phone out of your pocket and snapping a few pictures of the two men, one a close up of the broad male.

You sat at the desk in your room, searching through your drawers and folders of different forms and pictures you had kept. You weren’t allowed to have some of the papers in your personal home, though there were key points in some of the cases you were assigned that stuck out to you, resulting in off duty research.

Grabbing a familiar folder labeled, ‘Mark of the Prey,’ a dramatic name you so boringly created for the information inside. You snatch it open, searching through until you make an abrupt halt. Pulling the page out, you placed it next to your phone that displayed a close up of the man who spoke to the chief.

“Knew it.” You huff as you compare the symbol of Bonten to the tattoo embedded on the guy’s neck. Although this discovery confirms your suspicion, you have no clue why your chief would be in cahoots with the organization other than the fact that he’s working with them. Unfortunately, you don’t have enough proof.

The following days, you had decided to figure out a way to look through your boss’s office for any clues regarding his partnership. The first thing you want to come across if nothing else is your original paperwork that you kept hidden in a specific drawer. The only person who would’ve known the correct placement was your boss. You knew you had to wait for the perfect opportunity so you patiently waited for the right moment to sneak into his office.

It was hard, but you finally found the perfect time during a lunch break to search. You had no idea when he’d be back so you quickly searched through file after file. You were careful to place everything back in place to not raise suspicion. You sigh in frustration when you’re not finding the target, standing up from your place only to make eye contact with your chief.

He stepped in slowly, shutting the door behind him as he made his way closer to his desk. Still keeping his distance you both stare at one another in silence. Considering you’ve been caught, you decide not to waste any time.

“You’re working for Bonten, aren’t you?”

The middle aged man continued to stare at you before placing his hands in his pockets.

“There was a reason I dropped you from the case, Y/n.” You recall the utter pit in your stomach the moment you were dropped from the case, having spent a lot of time and effort finding all the evidence you could.

“Where is the paperwork?” You give him a stern glare. He sighed before shaking his head.

“You never stop, do ya? You wanna die or something?” He growled, a look of irritation crossing on his face, “I spared your life by dropping you, otherwise you’d be next on their list.”

“Do you realize what you’ve just done? Do you understand the gravity of what you’re doing? Partnering with the enemy? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Your palms slam on the desk as you lean slightly forward, anger and a sense of betrayal overcoming you.

“You have no right to question my decisions! I do what I have to do to survive. You should be thanking me!” He roared, stepping forward. “They’ve had their eyes on you ever since you started that case! They know what you look like, where you live, where you come from, and more!”

An abrupt siren echoed throughout the building, indicating a warning. The same sound you were taught when there’s been an ambush. Shocked, you immediately snatch the gun from your holster, as did your chief right before you both stretched your arms out to aim the weapons toward each other.

“Saved my life to take it right?” You yell over the alarm, standing at attention.

“This isn’t how I wanted this shit to go! You just couldn’t stop shoving your nose where it didn’t belong!”

“You assigned me to the case! What else was I supposed to do other than my job? You make no sense!”

“I didn’t expect you to find some of the things you did! For what it’s worth, you were my favorite officer!”

Just as he cocked the gun, you gasp when a figure appears from behind him. The sound of a shot rang out, the bullet penetrating your boss in the head, a hole formed as blood splattered on the floor and his uniform. The chief falls to the ground, landing on his body. You move to aim at the culprit, pulling the trigger multiple times as he dodges the bullets.

The sound of glass shattered behind you as another person kicked through the window. You turn to the side to keep both people within your vision, backing up until your back is barely touching the wall. Your gun is aimed at the man with two blonde strands hanging over his face, the rest of his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, revealing the tiger tattoo embedded into the skin of his neck. His left hand holds a gun aimed towards you, arm stretched out as a smile grows on his face.

The man who killed your boss stood next to him, his right arm held out as the barrel of the weapon was in your view. His bangs fell over the purple eyes that held a sense of familiarity, strands of hair falling into a mullet. Your eyes widened when you saw the tattoo on his neck, the same symbol you had seen on the man before who looks slightly similar to the person in front of you. He wears a bored expression.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Kazutora dodged the bullet coming his way by moving his head to the side, the metal only grazing his cheek. A small line of blood slides down from the small scratch.

“Who put you in charge, huh?” Before you can shoot him again, another shot rings out followed by a sharp pain shooting through your thigh.

“Fuck!” You hissed before looking down to where the blood seeps through your uniform as you place your trembling hand above the wound.

“You have shit aim.” Rin says to you before aiming at your shin resulting in you shifting out of the way before the bullet can land.

Another shot rang out as Kazutora pulled the trigger, missing as you rushed behind the desk, landing on your bottom. You set the gun down before pulling off your uniform jacket and pull the fabric with your teeth, tearing the sleeve. You wrapped it around your thigh quickly before snatching the gun.

You knew this wouldn’t end well for you. All you could do was survive the best you could. Before you could turn to shoot, a foot kicked the gun out of your hand before two hands grabbed the shoulders of your shirt, yanking you up. Suddenly a fist connects with your face before your vision is engulfed with darkness.

“The surveillance has been disposed of.”

Your eyelids flutter open as you come back to consciousness. The pain on your neck is prominent from your head hanging over while you were knocked out. A soreness appears on your check as you remember the fist impacting your face, knowing a bruise will probably form. You eye your thigh with a hazy vision, the blur of the blood that seeped through the fabric wrapped around your thigh, the throbbing pain still prominent. You accidentally release a groan as you pull at the cuffs, your arms secured behind the chair’s back uncomfortably.

“Good.”

You lift your head slowly, eyeing the figures that stood at a distance from you.

“You’ve been such a pain.” You hear from the shortest man standing in the middle. His onyx orbs bore into you intensely, despite the lack of expression. His platinum hair shapes the structure of his face.

“Sanzu.”

The pink haired man lifts an arm as he aims the gun towards you, cocking the weapon before pulling the trigger. The shot rang throughout the building just as the bullet penetrated your shin on the opposite leg of the wound on your thigh.

“Shit!” You spit out, breathing slowly as you attempt to tune the pain out, failing as the agony grows by the second. Your hands are in fists as your nails leave indents on your palms.

The blue eyed man’s scars stretched as the grin on his face grew. Excitement is apparent in his expression, the sound of your ragged breathing a beautiful melody to his ears.

“You will work for me in place of your boss.”

“Fuck you.” You growl as you feel your blood fall down your leg.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time. You are my secret weapon. Your skills give you an advantage that will be to my use.” You scoff.

“I’m not doing shit!” You exclaim.

“S/n and B/n. They are your siblings right?” Mikey questioned, hands behind his back. Your eyes widened as you glared at him.

“M/n, D/n, and F/n.” He takes a few steps towards you, revealing the darkness under his eyes.

He continued to name off colleagues, friends, family members, and even the bartender you’ve become close to. You gasp when he begins to list off the addresses in which your family members reside.

“That’s enough!” You hissed.

“Show some respect in the presence of the King, Rat.” Sanzu growled before aiming his gun towards you. Mikey holds up a palm, the executive obeying his command.

“You will do as I say.” He said before turning around and heading to the exit, all of the men following behind. You’re left in darkness once the door to the warehouse shuts.

Days pass while you rot in the warehouse, blood already dried from the wounds that may or may not get infected. The pain, although prominent, has slightly numbed. Your whole body is sore. You had thought everything through, deciding that you have no choice in the matter but to go against your morals. You had to protect your family. You only just now understand why your chief did what he did.

After your placement in Bonten was secured, once you received medical attention by their personal doctors, you were sent back to your detective job as an undercover criminal. Before you know it, months pass as you become used to your routine, something you didn’t want to happen. Of course, there was no enjoyment in feeling dirty or like a coward. Everytime your shift at the department closed, you would return to headquarters where you were forced to reside considering their lack of trust for you. You would inform your boss of anything he needed to know or an update on any assignment you were commanded to complete.

There were moments when you thought of different escape plans or to set them up, but one of the executives always had an eye on you. You knew you were being watched every moment you were at work or even around headquarters. It had you on edge and walking on eggshells. You truly felt helpless but you didn’t stop trying to think of something.

You’ve never been the type to be a seductress. Sure you’ve worn sexy clothes a couple of times and had a fair share of dates before you started working as a cop, but you’ve never actively seduced anyone before. Considering your predicament and no better idea, you decide to work on your skills. You visited the Haitani Brother’s strip clubs more often since a few of the men would go on outings and those were the only times you were allowed somewhere other than the department.

You observed the behavior of the strippers and waitresses. You even studied the bartenders and the customers. You watched the interactions carefully. You knew that if you played your cards right, you could gain a little more trust. Enough trust to help them slip up and for you to make an escape and notify witness protection before they can go after your family. You will gain as much evidence as you possibly can to ruin them once and for all.

Weeks pass and you’re seated on a chair in the VIP section of one of the brother’s nightclubs. The thick smell of marijuana, tobacco, and alcohol fills the air. You eye the first victim who sits on the sofa with a blunt in hand, black and blonde hair falling past his shoulders as he leans back in his seat. He blows the smoke out slowly with a dazed look, the woman who was sitting on his lap hopping up after he pats her thigh, telling her to grab him a drink. You take a deep breath, eyeing the other men to see the rest of them distracted, whether they’re entertaining a woman, gambling, or sniffing cocaine.

You exhale before making your way to Kazutora, sitting next to him, though not too close. Your hands begin to tremble as you stare ahead, second guessing your plan as you’re ready to run off. Before you could leave, a hand guides your chin, forcing you to look into the golden orbs that shine through the dark light beams.

“What’s on your mind, Doll?” He questions before releasing your chin and handing you the blunt. Before you became a police officer, you would smoke weed in your youth. Having not had it in a long time, you shake your head.

“T’s not a request. Smoke it.” He says with a heavy lidded gaze and a sly smile. You huff before taking it from his fingers, the wood placed between your index and middle finger as you place the end to your lips.

You immediately cough after sucking in a little more than you could handle, no longer having the lungs for this kind of thing. He laughed as your vision blurred from the tears, a burning sensation filling your throat as you handed it back to him.

Once you are done, you realize that you are higher than you expected to be.

“Oh shit.” You whisper as you stare into space.

“Here, let me help you.” You heard from beside you. Fingers grab your chin once more, turning you towards the man who takes a long hit of the blunt before turning to you and leaning in very close.

“Open your mouth.” You comply as he leaned in closer, the tips of your lips barely grazing the other as he slowly released the cloud into your mouth, his gaze still on you. After breathing in, the weight of your body felt heavier as you became in a more relaxed state. You leaned back against the sofa as you gazed into the room with your own heavy lidded gaze. The plan you had escaped your mind as you zoned into the colorful flashing lights.

“Someone’s in another world.” Ran said as he sat next to you on the other side. His leg pressed firmly against yours as he placed a hand on your healed thigh. You could smell his cologne as well as the tobacco lingering faintly. It was a nice fresh yet earthy scent.

“You smell good.” You say, not bothering to be shocked that your thoughts escaped your lips without any control, something that used to happen all the time when you got high.

“Thanks, sweet girl.” His smile grows as he observes your flushed face, gazing into your features before chuckling and grabbing the glass cup from the table.

You had no clue why you said that. You’ve never been anything but professional around these men. The hand gripping your thigh caused you to look down.

“Hey, what about me?” Kazutora gives a fake look of offense before handing Ran the blunt, causing you to snicker.

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Now you are.” He says before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you to his chest. Your nose was nuzzled in between his shoulder and neck, the smell of marijuana thick along with the faint smell of cologne.

He hummed before circling both arms around your waist and pulling you closer, your leg forced on the other side of him as he yanked you on top of him, your hands landing on his shoulders. You gasp in surprise, the bulge prominent against your core as your pencil skirt rises slightly.

“Oh?” Ran says before taking a hit as his eyes drop to your skirt.

“I like this position better.” Kazutora smirks as he gazes into your eyes. “Isn’t this what you wanted anyway, Y/n?” You couldn’t focus on anything but what’s pressed against your pussy, your face heating up as your nerves begin to strike. The memories of your plans begin to fly across your brain though you only just now realized how terrible a seduction plan would be. You must’ve forgotten you were dealing with some of the most feral men.

“Let me go.” You say as his grip only tightens causing you to wince in pain.

“You wanted to seduce us right?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You thought no one would notice your wandering eyes or suspicious behavior?”

“You really are so easy to figure out. It was noticeable when you first changed your clothing.” Ran says with his leg crossed and back leaned against the sofa, bringing the blunt to his lips once more.

“I have to admit, it worked.” Kazutora says while raising his hips, his erection rubbing against your panties as his hands moved to your ass. You gasp when you feel one of his hands pull your skirt all the way up to your waist, revealing your underwear.

“Feel that? You have me all worked up.” A smack on your ass caused you to flinch. “It’s all your fault.”

“Damn.” He whispered as he looked down at your covered pussy sitting on his bulge, hands rubbing up your sides before he shoves his fingers into the crevices where your stomach and thighs meet. You try to pick yourself up, only to feel something against the back of your head.

“I wanna play too.” Sanzu says behind you, gun pressed firmly against your head as you feel his hand rub along your butt cheek, gripping it before smacking the skin.

“Let me go right now.” You grit your teeth, nails piercing Kazutora’s shoulder as you tremble slightly. This isn’t what you had in mind when you planned to seduce them. Not only was it meant to be an individual thing, you weren’t expecting it to go as far as anything too physically intimate. How stupid you were.

“You should relax, yeah?” Rin says as he walks into view behind the sofa, leaning on the back of the surface with his hands as he gazes at you. He hands Sanzu the cuffs, the pink haired man pulling your arms behind your back and securing you in place. Kazutora kept his eyes on you the entire time, even when you looked away.

You felt Sanzu’s hand slide under your ass, rubbing along your panties as he glides against the slit of your vagina through the fabric, not a care for Kazutora’s bulge being in vicinity.

Tears threaten to spill as you angrily look at Kazutora, who brings a hand behind your neck before pulling you closer to his face, pressing his tongue to your neck as he rubs it along the skin. Rin leans over with a hand on your chin.

“If you bite me, I’ll bite harder.” He warned you before pulling you into a kiss. Kazutora moves from your neck before focusing on your breasts through your blouse. You gasp against Rin’s lips though he took the opportunity to pierce his tongue through your lips. He quietly moaned as he moved his free hand to the side of your face, fingers tickling your ear.

“You’re so wet, filthy girl.” Sanzu said quietly before using a finger to scoop some of the juice before bringing it to his lips, sucking the moisture off his finger before returning his hand to your pussy. He used one hand to move the panties out of the way and replace his hand, using a finger to ease into your vagina. He put the gun back in his holster as he distracted himself with the feeling of your vaginal walls sucking his finger in.

Rin released you, only for Ran to wrap a hand around your head and pull you in for a passionate kiss. You wince as he bites your lip, pulling on it as he pulls back before releasing, only to reconnect your lips together. Sanzu shoves two more fingers in as he stretches you out, causing a muffled yelp to leave your mouth.

Rin unbuckled his pants before reaching into his underwear to pull out his pulsating cock. Ran’s lips muffled the moans that escaped as Sanzu thrust his fingers deep into you at a steady pace. He cursed as he felt your hole tightening around his limbs. Kazutora unbuttoned your blouse to release your breasts that are covered by the bra. Not wasting any time, he reached into his pocket for the pocket knife, using it to slice your straps as well as the middle lining that keeps the pads connected. He pulled the remainder of the bra off and tossed it to the side.

His fingers grabbed your molds as he used his thumbs to fiddle with both nipples. You shut your eyes tight as he kept up the motion with one breast and leaned over to connect his tongue with the other. Ran releases you as he begins to unbuckle his own pants, just as Rin placed his palm on the top of your head before placing his cock near your mouth.

“Open up, pretty girl. I better not feel any teeth.” You turn your head away.

“N-No! Let me go, all of you!”

“Wonder how your family would feel to know that you’re getting fingered by one of their murderers right before I shoot their brains out.” Sanzu says softly against your ear, dazed by his own arousal. You frown as you clench your teeth from Kazutora’s tongue flicking your nipple, as well as Sanzu accelerating his pace.

“Come on, Y/n.” Rin says as he guides your head, you had no choice but to open your mouth. He exhaled as he eased the tip of his cock between your lips, warmth engulfing him as he gained a better grip on your head to pull you forward until the base of his erection was against your nose.

You shut your eyes as he held you there, forcing you to gag on his cock. A mixture of drool and precum slides down your chin as you breathe through your nose to the best of your ability. Sanzu removes his fingers before moving your panties out the way of your behind. Your eyes shoot open when you feel a wet pressure push into your asshole. He used two fingers, the residue slick making an easier access though the tightness stretched painfully.

You whimper against Rin’s base before he pulls you back, only to force you to swallow his erection once more. His cock slides in and out of your mouth at a steady pace, each thrust resulting in the head sinking down your throat. More saliva piles up as well as his semen, leaking as your head is guided.

“You’re a natural.” He moaned, thrusting his hips harder against your mouth as Kazutora slid a hand down to your pussy, feeling for your clit before rubbing along circles with a finger.

Ran rubs his own cock as he eyes your mouth taking his brother, focusing on the bulge that appears on your cheek as he can see the indent of Rin’s cock. He watched as the juices leaked from your mouth, listening to the whimpers and grunts that left your throat.

Kazutora removes his hand before grabbing his own hard cock from his pants. It flapped on your stomach before he guided you to lift up enough for the head to connect with your entrance. He used a hand to rub the tip against your wet pussy, moaning at the warmth.

“Sit.” He demands, using a hand to place on your hip as well as his other hand wrapped around his shaft to aim it correctly. He gazed at your full mouth, finding the mess beautiful on your face.

“Fuck…” He hissed as you lowered onto him, warm walls already sucking him in. “…this is exactly where you belong. Sitting pretty on my cock.” His hips thrust into you as your pussy engulf him fully. The tears streamed from your face as Rin neared his orgasm. Kazutora’s arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you tightly against him, just as Sanzu added a third finger to your ass, ripping a ragged moan out of you.

Rin’s head falls back as he releases a moan, warm liquid shooting down your throat as he holds you in place, forcing you to swallow all of his seed. Once he pulls his cock out of your mouth, you cry out as Sanzu accelerates his speed, just as Kazutora begins thrusting into you. His cock slides as his feet push against the floor, legs spread as he begins to pound into you. Your juices slicken him up, allowing him better access as the tip of his cock immediately hits your g-spot.

Just as your head was about to fall on his shoulder, a hand holds you in place as another erection slides into your sore mouth.

“Look at me.” Ran commands, you obey as your eyes tearfully move towards the intense gaze he holds. You could hear Kazutora moaning as Rin sat on the sofa, rubbing his cock while he watched you getting plowed from three ends. Ran thrusts his hips as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, groaning as he keeps his gaze on you.

“M’ gonna cum so deep in this pussy.” Kazutora moaned, pounding into you as he forced your hips to meet his thrusts. His lips are apart as he gazes at you taking Ran’s cock down your throat, just as Sanzu used one hand to grab your neck. Your pussy clenched as the stimulation on your cervix caused you to orgasm, bucking your hips as you groaned loudly on Ran’s cock.

“That’s right, baby. Good fucking girl.” Ran praised you for your orgasm, your face heated more than it already was as a funny feeling formed in your stomach. Sanzu removed his fingers right as Ran cums deep into your throat, holding you in place as his brother did. Kazutora continues to thrust into you, forcing you to ride him even while you’re overstimulated. Your head was only able to drop on Kazutora’s shoulder for a second before Sanzu replaced Ran and forced your head up.

“You’re not done, yet.” He smirked before shoving his cock down your sore throat. Your jaw felt sore as it was stretched once more. You whine on his cock at the pain as well as the overwhelming feeling in your abdomen. He begins at a faster pace than the Haitani brothers not allowing you to adjust before he’s fucking your face.

Kazutora continues to hump into you, his head falling back as he groans, releasing into you as deep as he could possibly go. He pressed firmly against you to make sure his semen fills you all the way up. Sanzu’s thrusts become sloppier as he moans, releasing a curse before he bucks his hips slowly, pressing his cock all the way to the back of your throat. He forced you to swallow his cum as he stared down at you.

For the rest of the night you were rotated between each man so they could have a turn with your pussy, all the while causing you to faint a couple of times as your body was completely used for their pleasure. You were out for a couple of days before the dreadful routine of you becoming their cum slut began. They were brutal, more brutal than the first night as they twisted you every which way. Sometimes Sanzu would use you as an experiment by drugging you up with different products you never thought you’d try, praying to not be drug tested any time soon at your job though you knew Bonten would find a way to handle the problem.

In the midst of those days, you had forgotten who you were before. The darkness shaped under your eyes, you lack an appetite, and your poor body is worn out. Everyday felt dark, cold, and empty. You were lying in your designated bedroom, staring at the ceiling until the door unlocked and someone walked in. You shut your eyes as the person got closer, hovering above you before they leaned over, warm breath on your ear.

“Did they break you, yet?” You recognized the whisper to be Mikey’s voice. Your eyes teared up as they streamed down your face, turning away in a fetal position as your boss climbed into the bed with you. His arm snaked around your waist as his face nuzzled on the back of your neck.

“Now you know how it feels.” His lips graze your skin as he speaks. “To feel and be nothing.”

“You are my broken doll to play with.”

One day, you had enough. You were going to leave if it’s the last thing you do. Even if it results in your death, you don’t care. You were done with this. One day you had snuck a bag of sleeping pills Sanzu kept in a specific area in his office. This night was perfect because they’re supposed to meet up for a deal beforehand so Mikey will be there as well. When you arrive at the club, instead of heading to the bathroom like you said, you head to the bar.

After telling the bartender who you’re with, he hands you the bottle with the tray of glasses. He didn’t seem to mind that you hadn’t been a waitress which is perfect. You look around your surroundings before placing the pills in the bottle. You leave everything on the table for the actual employee to take it up so they won’t get suspicious of your excuse for the bathroom.

Once you make it back, you sit on Mikey’s lap like he commanded you to. Your nerves were struck as you watched the woman enter. Excitement prominent as you watch her pour the bottle before handing each man their cup, including Mikey. You watch as all the men take their shots, downing them quickly as they continue their play. You peek down at Mikey’s hand, seeing that he hasn’t taken a sip which made you nervous.

Just as the men started dropping on the sofas or chairs, your hands trembled as Mikey’s arms tightened around your waist, drink still in hand.

“When they wake up, I’m going to let them do whatever they want to you.” Tears appear at the corner of your eyes as the familiar lump forms in your throat.

“I’m going to allow whatever I didn't accept before…” His head dropped to your shoulder as he continued, “…you can drink the alcohol so you can rest beforehand, or you can save it so you’ll be asleep while they tear you apart.”

You stare ahead with a troubled gaze. The trembling became violent as you felt the urge to jump away, ready to run for your life. You subconsciously eye the bruises and cuts along your skin as you bite your lip to quiet the sobs.

“No matter how many times they break you apart, I’ll always be there to put you back together because you belong to me.”

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s 2023 Birthday Story translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a story that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien's 2023 CN Birthday Event (The New World)✧ Birthday Story (You’re here!) | Birthday Prologue | Birthday Date | ASMR | Birthday Party

As Lucien looked at two familiar faces in one of the photographs, his gaze flickered for a moment.

It was as if a strange emotion had crossed through time, enveloped in the fresh warmth and memories, unfolded before his eyes once again.

"...And I remember these two Chinese scholars, they were outstanding scientists. It's just a pity…"

As Lucien glanced back at that photograph, he had a fleeting sense that the people in the picture were also gazing back at him.

Perhaps they had been watching over him all along.

[T/N: It's very important to read [Until Dawn R&S] and [Exclusive Past - Monochrome Scenery] first, in that order, because they provide background information regarding his life during college. I promise it'll be worth it to see how everything regarding his college life ended up tied together in this story :). Reading these three feels like accompanying him from getting into college and now graduating and getting a doctoral degree sob sob]

-

[Chapter 1 - Self-Planning of a Genius]

The cold light from the computer screen reflected into Lucien's eyes. He didn't stop even for a moment as he continuously typing on the keyboard. He only breathed a sigh of relief after typing the last letter and then glanced at the lower right corner of the screen.

July 25th, 4:23.

The entire content of the graduation thesis was completed almost a week ahead of the planned deadline.

That's good, he thought, stretching lazily and getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee. The steaming hot liquid and the rich aroma of roasted beans further stimulated his already alert mind.

Although there is still more than half a year left until the formal thesis defense date, sufficient preparation is required for both scheduling and other arrangements.

Outside the window, a hint of dawn began to appear. Lucien finished his last sip of coffee, poured another cup, and then sat back at the table. He retrieved various experimental notes, brought up data analysis charts and reference documents, and brought his thesis back to the first page-

"Further findings on the contributions of the parietal lobe in episodic memory"

His face showed no expression as his slender fingertips glided over the mouse and began the inspection.

Since joining this laboratory four years ago, he spent a year getting to know and familiarize himself with it. Apart from his studies, applying for an independent research space within the organization and obtaining certain privileges and data was also a part of achieving his goals. Lucien always stayed on the clear path, just as he had mentioned during the interview with Dr. Lawson years ago: to research his interests within a limited time frame.

Playtime can be enjoyable, but what's truly important is what needs to be done.

So, about three years ago, he proposed the idea of shortening the duration of his master's and doctoral studies to the professor.

"I need a valid reason."

Dr. Lawson lifted his head from the report, his silver-white eyebrows arching slightly.

"I believe that my current research topic and project are sufficient for me to graduate in three years, at most four."

His calm tone carried the determination of a young man set on his goal. The professor remained silent as if weighing something, and after a moment, he set aside the report in his hand.

"They say there are some interesting stalls at the nearby market. Would you like to go check them out together?"

This invitation seemed to leave no room for refusal. By the time they walked from one end of the market to the other, both of them had their hands full with several paper bags.

"You seem to have a particular fondness for this flavor of wine."

"The family has been passing down their winemaking skills for three generations now, and the current owner is someone I watched grow up." The professor smiled and shared stories of his childhood days picking grapes on the estate with his grandparents in a good mood.

Lucien didn't quite know how to respond to the professor with such a rich life experience, so he simply listened quietly until the conversation naturally shifted back to his own experiences, from his student days to his journey to this point.

"Lucien, I respect your choices and judgment."

"School knowledge is limited; even the most solid theories need practical validation. No one can stop you from climbing higher. After all, everyone has their own path to follow."

"Moreover, silly kid, you just want to see a wider world, don't you?"

The setting sun cast a faint golden glow on the old man's hair as he gave a few more instructions. Before leaving, he placed the paper bag containing the wine into Lucien's hands.

"Those kids are good at picking gifts, and this old man can't compete, so I'll do it first. I want to wish you an early congratulations on your successful graduation."

In the end, Lucien never fully understood how a trip to the market ended up with the professor accepting his proposal.

But fortunately, the outcome was favorable.

He knew exactly what he wanted. Rather than being unwilling to pause his hurried footsteps, it was more about his greed, his eagerness to step into that world and obtain the answers he desired sooner.

Unconsciously, the coffee cup on the table was empty once again.

Lucien's gaze returned to the last word of the document, only to realize that the sun had already climbed overhead. The warm sunlight amplified his hunger, making him realize it was time to replenish some necessary carbohydrates and sugar.

Four years had passed, and surprisingly, nutritionists still hadn't invented nutritional packages.

He couldn't help but sigh.

-

[Chapter 2 - Habits and Change]

A week later, the routine report email unexpectedly received a reply.

"At 3:00 PM, Charles River."

Lucien's gaze paused for a moment. In the past two years, Black Swan had rarely initiated face-to-face meetings. Of course, they would only visit the independent laboratory unannounced, pretending chance encounters in bustling places or infiltrating parties with those "eyes" that couldn't quite disguise themselves.

He didn't mention it. After all, there was no need to waste time dealing with these annoying issues.

He glanced at the time and stood up. "I've drafted the analysis report, and we can further validate it when the key data is available. I'll head out for now."

In response, two consecutive gasps were followed by Colt's high-pitched exclamation. "It's only 2:08 in the afternoon! 2:08! The laboratory ghost is actually leaving the lab at a time when the data is still running?!" He exaggeratedly covered his head. "What catastrophe has occurred? Is the world about to end?!"

Lucien shook his head helplessly. Even though this senior had graduated a long time ago, dealing with his occasional exaggerated and noisy behavior was always a challenge. But when he thought about having only about half a year left of their time together, he smiled softly.

"You're still in the lab. If there's really an emergency, you can always handle it."

He walked over to Matthew, a junior who had joined the lab less than six months ago, and gave him some instructions about certain data points to observe closely. Then, amidst the noise, he left the lab.

The weather today was exceptionally nice. Sitting on a park bench and observing people wasn't a bad way to spend time. Lucien leisurely walked down the stone steps, strolling by the riverbank. In the distance, a man in a black suit was already waiting there.

He casually put his hands in his pockets and gazed at the river, but it seemed like his focus was elsewhere.

This was someone he hadn't seen before.

Perhaps hearing the footsteps, the man turned around.

"The organization is very satisfied with your recent data results, and you can move on to the next stage."

"If there are any equipment or manpower needs, the organization will provide support. However, efforts always require a return."

"I believe the results of the experiments I've been given over the years are enough proof of that."

The implications in the other person's words were quite obvious. Lucien was well aware that the so-called "eyes" extended far beyond those he was aware of. He didn't resent being monitored; in fact, he hoped they would expend effort to "observe" him. He wanted them to see what he was capable of. This was his leverage, a necessary condition for him to maintain control over his path.

Since both parties were intelligent individuals, working together to achieve their goals was the best outcome.

"Regarding the research on Evol, the organization is preparing to enter a new phase. Several key subjects are currently in the investigation stage, one after another, and I believe we will soon identify the most crucial person." The man handed over a stack of documents. "So, you also need to step onto a new stage as soon as possible." The emphasized words carried an invisible sense of urgency, inadvertently causing Lucien to furrow his brow. However, he accepted the documents and began to read them without changing his expression.

"These are documents from a research institute in the United States. You will need to attend an interview there in five months, so graduate as soon as possible. And part of the process is that the organization will help expedite the issuance of your diploma."

"I will apply for a batch of new equipment soon. Additionally, my current research personnel are overly saturated, so I will make some adjustments on my own."

Lucien concealed the fact that he had already completed his thesis progress and instead presented his own requirements.

Following the arrangements step by step doesn't necessarily mean compromise; it could also be a temporary period of lying low.

After the conversation, Lucien originally intended to return to the dormitory, but his feet led him to the laboratory instead.

"Oh my god! Xiū mó, you're back! That's great. The world isn't going to end!"

Lucien smiled unconsciously as he put on his lab coat again and returned to his seat.

Parting always seems to slip easily into the queue of life, and it looks like playtime is about to come to an end.

-

[Chapter 3 - Pineapple Pie Flavor]

"The university has approved the early graduation process, and the defense is scheduled for next Monday."

"Sorry to trouble you."

After the conversation by the river that day, Lucien approached Dr. Lawson and expressed his desire to graduate early. The meticulous old gentleman naturally showed concern but didn't seem too surprised. Perhaps the professor had already grown accustomed to his hurried behavior to some extent.

However, the process was much more complicated than he had imagined. After the professor consulted with the university, several rounds of document submission and supplementary explanations followed, causing delays of more than a month before everything was finally settled.

Lucien was patient in dealing with this, and it just showed how important the title of "Young Outstanding Scientist" was to that group of people. It made them reluctant to rush through the process, even if they were eager. And for him, this was undoubtedly a good thing.

On the other hand, it seemed good to be able to enjoy the last days as a student in peace.

Outstanding professors always knew when to provide all the help he needed at the right time, and similar individuals allowed him to immerse himself in his subsequent research steps. Countless unique ways of thinking collided here, giving birth to new fireworks of ideas.

This ideal yet real scientific world has become a crucial cornerstone for him to step into the next world.

Lucien knows that he likes it here.

"Lucien, where are you going?" The professor removed his glasses after reading the paper's last page.

"Probably to the end of the puzzle."

He almost blurted it out as if this answer had existed in his heart for a long time.

However, Lucien was well aware that reaching that place would require a lot of preparation, abilities, knowledge, challenges, or perhaps... darkness itself. This made him curious and filled him with anticipation. He wanted to know what kind of results that mysterious substance would bring to humanity or to this world. He was also curious about where he would ultimately arrive.

"It sounds like a distant journey,"

"Take care."

The familiar words felt like both a piece of advice and a simple blessing.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere of parting that made Lucien not refuse the doctor's invitation, and he ended up having a meal together with him at home.

Lucien had never formally visited his home before, and their interactions were mostly limited to academic occasions. So, after accepting the invitation, he immediately returned to his dormitory and retrieved two boxes of white tea.

"Oh, Chinese tea. It might pair well with my pineapple pie,"

The lady appeared particularly delighted, her curly hair bouncing as she enthusiastically brewed a pot of tea to replace the originally planned wine, then turned towards the oven.

"You don't need to go to so much trouble."

"With a rare visit from a student, of course, we must treat you with our specialties. Don't be shy. Take a seat."

Lucien no longer refused the warmth extended to him, and while waiting for dinner, he sat with the doctor in the living room. The room was cozy, with leather sofas and a patterned carpet. On one side, there was an elegant display of artwork and a vase of flowers; on the other, there were several framed photographs. The frames were well-maintained, showing that they were cherished keepsakes.

As Lucien looked at two familiar faces in one of the photographs, his gaze flickered momentarily.

It was as if a strange emotion had crossed through time, enveloped in the fresh warmth and memories, unfolded before his eyes once again.

"This was taken many years ago... I believe it was after some scientific conference."

"Back then, scientists from various fields around the world gathered in Copenhagen for a month-long academic discussion." Noticing Lucien's paused gaze, the doctor got up and brought the photo over.

"I had read about that conference as part of my research, but I didn't realize you knew Professor Ding Yunqing and Professor Hoffman. I recall they were experts in the field of linguistic philosophy," Lucien mentioned.

"Science connects not only truths but also everyone who walks this path," the doctor said, his gaze lingering on the old photograph as if he had opened a box of memories. For a brief moment, his eyes dimmed.

"...And I remember these two Chinese scholars, they were outstanding scientists. It's just a pity…"

"But their academic and research contributions were unquestionable, and those dedicated hours still serve as our foundation, helping countless others open the doors to truth in the future."

Lucien fell silent, unable to quite express the emotions stirring in his chest at this moment.

Am I one step closer to you now?

“It’s dinner time~”

The doctor's wife had prepared a table full of dishes, illuminated by flickering candlelight, making it a truly lavish spread. As Lucien glanced back at that photograph, he had a fleeting sense that the people in the picture were also gazing back at him.

Perhaps they had been watching over him all along.

He slowly took a bite of the warm pineapple pie.

It was very warm and sweet.

-

[Chapter 4 - Gifts from everyone]

After hearing the news that Lucien would graduate early, the entire laboratory was in an uproar.

"Damn genius kid, you came to the lab later than me, but you're graduating earlier! This is unfair!"

"Come on, Elliot, maybe you should look at your own issues. Is your research just too mediocre, with only eight papers and an E?"

"...Mediocre? Is that really mediocre?" Matthew, who was standing nearby, widened his eyes.

"No need to dwell on what they're saying too much," Lucien lowered his voice, treating it as passing on some advice to the younger ones. "Let's finish the data comparison at hand first, and if we happen to bring the doctor over... Colt, you might actually get kicked out of the lab."

Colt let out a final wail and obediently entered silent work mode.

The sounds of equipment in operation, the constant clicking of keyboards, hushed discussions, and occasional sighs during experiments – Lucien suddenly realized that today felt just like any other day, and the parting still felt distant.

However, time had long set its course and was accelerating forward.

Another ordinary day in the lab came to an end. Colt, who was usually enthusiastic about parties, didn't disappear this time but stayed behind to clean up and even occasionally pulled Elliott and Matthew aside for what seemed like secret plotting. Lucien neatly organized the cleaned beakers and test tubes, acting as if nothing was amiss. After finishing, he followed them back to the dormitory as if everything was normal.

"Ta da—this is our graduation gift for you!"

On the coffee table were four beautifully wrapped gifts, three of which were almost discernible by their shape, likely books. Under the gaze of three pairs of eyes, Lucien cooperatively tore open the wrapping paper.

《The Complete Plays of George Bernard Shaw (1893-1921)》,《Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Text Revision DSM-5-TR》， and《Principles of Neural Science》. There were also a few beautifully handmade bookmarks and a stack of postcards featuring the natural landscapes of various American states.

"I know you have the basic textbooks, but receiving the 'Neuroscience Bible' from your senior, the significance is different, right, Xiù Mó… Oops, I mean, Xǔ... Xǔ mò! Did I get the pronunciation right this time?"

"Colt mentioned giving books, and I thought long and hard before selecting a useful reference book. Even though most people may not actually use it in reality, if there comes a moment when you need some assistance, I hope it can come in handy."

"The novel was chosen by Caroline. Her experiments in Canada have been quite demanding lately, so I'm representing her."

"The bookmarks and postcards were my contribution... I hope they are quite practical!"

Listening to them chatter and introduce their gifts, Lucien suddenly felt that the things in his hands were heavy, as if he was holding more than just the gift itself.

"Thank you. I'll take good care of these and bring them back home." He finally expressed his gratitude simply, taking the gifts back to his room and storing them carefully.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Xǔ Mò, can I come in?"

"Of course," Lucien turned to look at Colt. "You finally got my name right."

"In fact, once you grasp the pronunciation rules, it's not that difficult," Colt smugly raised an eyebrow. "If there's anything unfinished or you need help with anything, just speak up. Proofreading work is also fine."

"I'll keep that in mind if I need any help."

"So, Xǔ Mò, what do you plan to do in the future?"

He wasn’t sure if it was the sense of achievement from suddenly mastering the pronunciation after four years, but Colt seemed to add his name to every sentence. It was a bit amusing, but Lucien still thought carefully about the question.

"I might consider establishing my own research institute."

"Oh, that sounds great. I always feel like if I stay in this lab any longer, the doctor will kick me out sooner or later."

"Well, that's also his expectation of you."

Colt pursed his lips and suddenly remembered something. He took out a pair of NOU cards from his pocket and placed them on Lucien's desk.

"Take them. You might need them in the new place."

"So, is NOU really a traditional pastime here?" Lucien finally asked the question that had been bothering him as he looked at the cards.

"Hahaha, do you like it then?"

Lucien didn't answer the question, just as Colt hadn't addressed his curiosity.

But at this moment, he confirmed that perhaps only with this group of people in front of him would he have that special feeling to play NOU cards with them.

"Oh... Sad," Colt put on a mournful expression, and Lucien knew he was about to start something again.

"Let's play one last round!"

"I'll be here tomorrow. To be precise, I have a few more months."

"Then let's play every day from now until the day you leave!"

"...."

"Elliot! Matthew! Let's party!"

-

[Chapter 5 - Parting and Full Moon]

The thesis defense ended smoothly.

Today, everyone was assigned to attend an academic conference, and the usually bustling dormitory felt a bit empty. Lucien thought for a moment and began to organize his belongings.

Having lived here for four years, Lucien had developed a habit of keeping things organized. However, there were still numerous miscellaneous items. Of course, books took up a significant portion of his belongings, and the rest included various notes, materials, and reports. He grabbed a few packing boxes and began sorting everything by category. As for some discarded items, he decided to arrange them for disposal.

Soon, half of the room was emptied out.

It turned out that four years' worth of time could fit into just a few boxes.

Suddenly, Lucien was drawn to a black strap that had fallen into a corner. He moved aside the piled-up items in the corner and discovered an old handheld video camera. The strap's connector showed obvious wear, and some labels on the adjustment buttons had rubbed off.

Lucien quickly recalled that it was two years ago, on a winter day, when the doctor had taken their entire lab to visit another school's lab for academic exchange. It seemed to be Christmas that day, with snow falling, and there was a large Christmas tree on Beacon Street adorned with colorful lights. Everyone had a bit of wine and enthusiastically joined in the street's celebration activities, while he himself wandered into a second-hand Western antique shop. There was an array of tableware, dolls, furniture... His gaze went past them and landed on the camera at the edge of the shelf.

It seemed like... he had seen a similar one in that study room once.

In reality, Lucien didn't remember the model, and he couldn't be certain if it was truly the same one. Nevertheless, he bought it, perhaps just because of some familiarity.

Although he occasionally shot some aimless footage after returning, research reports and books gradually replaced it, and he slowly forgot about it.

The magic of memory lies precisely in this, the ability to bring past moments vividly back to life in an unassuming moment.

Lucien removed the battery from the camera and started charging it. As he continued to pack the boxes, he patiently waited for the red light to turn green.

After pressing the power button, he waited for a while before the machine displayed the startup screen slowly. He clicked the record button, and the somewhat empty dorm room appeared on the screen. After rotating the camera, he pushed open the door and walked out. The common lounge area was unusually quiet in the late hours, a bit messy as always.

The camera's lens passed through the corridor and exited the dormitory building. Even at night, occasional students were rushing by on campus. He walked along the usual path, passing by every tree he had passed on normal days, every building, his classroom, and the laboratory.

He sat in his seat, not turning on the lights, just sitting in silence for a long time. The camera passed by the lab bench, the whiteboard, and finally stopped at the window. Through this window, he had witnessed the changing seasons and countless day and night transitions, from sunrise to sunset. And all these ever-moving things had also witnessed him step by step toward distant places, coming here, and then leaving.

The old-fashioned camera had a lot of noise in the night, and although Lucien tried to adjust it, most of the footage was just a dark, ink-like expanse. However, he didn't care.

In the end, he lifted the camera upward, and the moon became increasingly round and full. Today happened to be the Cold Dew* in the lunar calendar.

Lucien exhaled; winter was approaching.

[T/N: "Cold Dew" (寒露) is one of the 24 solar terms in the traditional Chinese calendar. It typically falls between October 8th and 23rd of the Gregorian calendar. During Cold Dew, the weather becomes significantly colder, and dew starts to form on the ground as temperatures drop further. It marks the transition from late autumn to early winter in the Northern Hemisphere. Just like it marks his parting from leisure college day to the upcoming 'winter' :"]

-

[Chapter 6 - Graduation]

Time moved forward once again, and Lucien received his graduation certificate in the office, handed to him by Dr. Lawson.

All those nearly four years of time, the thousands of days and nights spent in the lab, were now encompassed in this thin piece of paper. An unnamed emotion brushed through his heart, but he didn't dwell on it. Instead, he casually thought that B.S. was indeed very efficient.

"I heard you're preparing for interviews at American research institutes."

Dr. Lawson's voice sounded, and Lucien looked into those slightly sunken eyes, thinking to himself. By all accounts, the doctor shouldn't be aware of this matter, unless someone deliberately leaked the information.

"I do have that plan."

The light outside the window was exceptionally bright, reflecting the anticipation in Dr. Lawson's eyes.

"Lucien, I know you're eager to explore the truth and long for the answers this world has to offer you."

"At this point, your persistence surpasses that of many people. Sometimes, the power of the human heart is more like an unwavering truth than science. Don't let persistence turn into paranoia."

"I wish you all the best in everything that lies ahead."

Faced with such high expectations and blessings, Lucien slightly bowed.

"Thank you for your guidance over these four years."

After leaving the office, he walked along the corridor, and memories of his first time here involuntarily surfaced in his mind. It seemed that even the faint speckles on the wall corners were vividly remembered by him.

It's just that today is unusually quiet, or perhaps he should say, this day is too quiet.

There were no external tasks or lab arrangements today, but Colt and the others haven't been seen since morning. Lucien could probably guess what they might be up to, but he didn't dwell on it. Right now, he should return to his dorm for the final preparations. As he passed by a classroom, he heard a faint rustling sound from inside, which grew faster and denser, bursting out of the front door of the classroom with surprise and enthusiasm—

"Boom!"

Before Lucien's eyes, countless gray ribbons suddenly soared into the air, glistening in the sunlight and constantly shining.

"Xǔ Mò, congratulations on your graduation!"

"As expected of our little genius, congratulations on your official graduation!"

—Colt and Matthew waved small confetti cannons in their hands, while Elliot held a camera, and the three of them smiled with pride.

"Congratulations." Caroline, who had appeared at some point, placed a simple bouquet of flowers in Lucien's hand and patted his shoulder happily.

"Hey, Elliot, it looks like our surprise plan worked. This kid actually showed a rare surprised expression!"

"Quick, capture it! When this genius makes a name for himself in the future, this moment will be a precious memory."

They chatted away, and the simple pieces of information were unusually hard for Lucien's brain to process until Colt came over with a set of doctoral robes, and he blinked slowly.

"We heard from the Doctor that you'll be leaving the school soon, so the few of us decided to organize a separate graduation ceremony just for you."

Without giving Lucien a chance to refuse, the group had already divided the tasks and helped him into the doctoral robes. They gently pushed his back, leading him outside the teaching building.

Lucien looked up at the bright sunlight, feeling the warmth of the autumn day very clearly.

"I've been looking for all of you for half a day; it's not time for the group photo yet, is it?"

"Well, before we can proceed, we have to wait for you to arrive, Doc."

Watching Doctor's hurried figure join the others, Lucien unconsciously curled his lips into a smile.

There have been quite a few changes in these four years.

In this autumn, he was surrounded by this group of people, celebrating his graduation.

The pure beauty of the world can make people dull, and the world that awaits him was bound to be no longer a game.

But at least at this moment, he could slow down his pace just a bit.

He had graduated, and will be stepping into the no longer gentle nights ahead.

And he was full of anticipation for it.