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russellfaulkner99 · 9 months

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<h1>Vitamin C Wikipedia</h1>

Content

Reviews

Nice Antioxidant And Uv Protection Booster

Vitamin C (ascorbic Acid)

Experimental Findings Relating To Vitamin C

Top 10 Healthiest Sources Of Vitamin C

How Much Vitamin C Ought To I Get?

Risks Of Low Vitamin C Consumption

speculation was linked vitamin C to diabetes by way of DHA (Mann & Newton, 1975). Unfortunately, until just lately specific explanations have been lacking that tied diabetes pathophysiology to DHA transport or aberrant DHA transport (Will &

6 Vitamin C Mistakes You're Probably Making - NewBeauty Magazine

6 Vitamin C Mistakes You're Probably Making.

Posted: Wed, 17 May 2023 07:00:00 GMT [source]

There’s certainly no law against using vitamin C merchandise in the evening, but, again, you might get essentially the most benefit from using them in the morning. “In general, vitamin C products must be applied within the morning before heading out for the day, when UV radiation is at its highest,” Dr. Hogan says. Healthline’s Picks Of One Of The Best Fertility Supplements , you’ll be in a position to reap the advantages of its free-radical-fighting potential.

Evaluations

Still Vit C is so superior that you must strive it at least once and see how your pores and skin reacts. You can discover my detailed evaluation of the Geek & Gorgeous C-Glow vitamin C serum right here. […] even when you eat kiwis and oranges all day long, your pores and skin won’t actually profit from the vitamin C they comprise. Of course, excessive pH doesn’t work for a lot of formulations like emulsions. If it’s new or a product container you’re reusing, it should say on the packaging. If you can’t work it out, you presumably can both verify what number of teaspoons of water slot in it using a teaspoon measure, or eyeball it towards similar containers you own.

It helps forestall harm to LDL ("unhealthy") ldl cholesterol, which then builds up as plaque in the arteries and might cause heart assault or stroke.

(Fig 3).

Erick Iyadi

Medical Laboratory Sciences, Kenya Medical Training College (Nairobi campus) Licensed with Kenya Medical Laboratory Technicians and Technologist Board (KMLTTB)

Website: https://glowbarldn.com/pages/erick-lyadi Address: 70 Mortimer St, London W1W 7RY Company: Glow Bar London

be mirrored in altered vitamin C physiology.

Both are water-soluble (so, once more, search for them in serums somewhat than in lotions or creams).

that only these pharmacologic concentrations of ascorbate produce ascorbate radical

Neutrophils, mononuclear phagocytes, and lymphocytes accumulate vitamin C to high concentrations, which can shield these cell varieties from oxidative harm (12-14). Vitamin C, by way of its antioxidant capabilities, has been shown to protect leukocytes from self-inflicted oxidative injury (14). Phagocytic leukocytes additionally produce and release cytokines, together with interferons, which have antiviral exercise (16). Vitamin C has been shown to increase interferon manufacturing in vitro (17).

Great Antioxidant And Uv Safety Booster

know the way to measure optimum health, for any vitamin. Thus, it's predictable that we don't have information to indicate what intake of- vitamin C is perfect for well being. Several Single Nucleotide Polymorphisms (SNPs) have been described in SVCTs.

Gummies and liquid formulations typically have a barely larger price per serving than tablets or powders.

manufacturing.

But you may get a lot more vitamin C when tomatoes are concentrated into juice.

It is feasible that

Patients are suggested to debate with their oncologist before utilizing vitamin C dietary supplements (200, 201). If you wish to examine foods for his or her vitamin C content, search USDA's FoodData Central. At this time, avoidance of vitamin C deficiency or insufficiency, quite than supplementation in replete people, seems prudent for the promotion of healthy brain getting older (101). Vitamin C (L-ascorbic acid) is a potent decreasing agent, meaning that it readily donates electrons to recipient molecules (Figure 1). Related to this oxidation-reduction (redox) potential, two main functions of vitamin C are as an antioxidant and as an enzyme cofactor (1). A vitamin C serum has smaller molecules than a moisturizer, so it should be used first.

Vitamin C (ascorbic Acid)

seconds, and even minutes, relying on absence of oxygen and electron acceptors, especially iron (Buettner, 1993). For

Vitamin CG is a precursor of vitamin C, which means that in the presence of certain substances on the surface of the pores and skin, it's going to launch vitamin C. Vitamin CG is particularly used for its properties to unify the complexion. This benefit is enhanced by the proven anti-inflammatory activity of vitamin C. Peaches have about the identical pH degree as apples, starting from 3.3 to four, but are additionally considered much less acidic and better tolerated.

reduced by iron infusion (Talbot et al., 2014). Whether these effects had been mediated by HIF-1 just isn't known although HIFs are regarded as mediators of hypoxia induced pulmonary

Experimental Findings Regarding Vitamin C

Vitamin C megadosage is a time period describing the consumption or injection of vitamin C in doses similar to or greater than the quantities produced by the livers of mammals that are capable of synthesize vitamin C. An argument for this, although not the precise term, was described in 1970 in an article by Linus Pauling. Briefly, his place was that for optimal health, people should be consuming a minimum of 2,300 mg/day to compensate for the shortcoming to synthesize vitamin C. “The effectiveness will range relying on which form of vitamin C is used, in addition to the focus and the other elements within the product,” Dr. Chiu says. The Physicians’ Health Study II, a randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled trial of more than 14,000 male physicians, discovered a modestly lowered risk of new gout cases in males who took vitamin C supplements of 500 mg every day for as a lot as 10 years. [6] Other short-term trials have found that vitamin C may decrease blood ranges of uric acid, a substance that may result in gout if there might be too much within the body.

been potential to definitively attribute pathological processes to antioxidant

It is not known whether this mix of nutrients helps stop AMD or is beneficial for individuals with much less superior AMD.

"It takes several weeks of steady use to begin to see enchancment in pores and skin tone," says Zeichner, adding that as a result of it is a key ingredient for prevention, some advantages will be imperceptible.

While useful for understanding absorption, the steady- state condition

Our team of registered dietitians reviews and evaluates each single supplement we recommend in accordance with our dietary complement methodology. From there, a registered dietitian on our Medical Expert Board reviews each article for scientific accuracy. Supplements are out there in a big selection of forms from capsules and gummies to powders and liquids, offer differing amounts of vitamin C, and contain different forms of the vitamin, so you’ll wish to select one that’s right for you. As with all dietary supplements, we suggest choosing one that is third-party verified so you know that you’re getting what the label says—and nothing more. One examine discovered that vitamin C helped stop pneumonia and supported tetanus treatment. Vitamin C has an immune-boosting effect that can help the physique fight off illnesses, such because the frequent cold.

Prime 10 Healthiest Sources Of Vitamin C

Besides the Maillard response there are lots of alternative ways dehydroascorbic acid can react additional. But for now, we won’t talk about these into nice detail, there could be too many. Also, attempting to stop oxidation of ascorbic acid might be a greater way to go than stopping these different reactions. Dehydroascorbic acid is solely much less secure and most probably harder to regulate. When left open to the air, which incorporates oxygen, ascorbic acid is vulnerable to oxidation. Hence, if no oxygen is present, much less oxidation of ascorbic acid will take place.

and deciphering studies.

Thus, red blood cells with low vitamin C concentrations in diabetes

I’d advocate a bottle with largely glass or rubber parts similar to a dropper bottle or an important oil bottle.

SNPs.

While L-ascorbic acid is probably the most unstable, all types of vitamin C are somewhat vulnerable to degradation when uncovered to gentle and air. The common rule of thumb—for any kind of vitamin C product—is to ensure it’s housed in a dark, opaque glass bottle, advises Dr. Reichel. (Airtight pumps and droppers are also preferable to screw-top jars.) Also, make certain to retailer any and all vitamin C skincare in a closed cabinet or drawer, away from heat and light-weight. The Linus Pauling Institute's Micronutrient Information Center offers scientific data on the well being elements of dietary factors and dietary supplements, food, and beverages for most of the people. The info is made available with the understanding that the author and writer usually are not offering medical, psychological, or nutritional counseling companies on this web site. The info shouldn't be used in place of a consultation with a reliable well being care or nutrition skilled.

How Much Vitamin C Should I Get?

For example, one medium orange has about 80 milligrams of vitamin C, which accounts for much of your day by day intake. And after all, the word “essential” means that your body actually wants it. Well, every kind of things, including wholesome pores and skin, bones, eyes and extra.

Note that plasma vitamin C was reported to be 90 µM in rat (Fig. 3), though newer studies with trendy assays have shown plasma concentrations of forty

Risks Of Low Vitamin C Intake

found in plasma, on glucose transporters adopted by quick intracellular discount. RBCs can cut back DHA through the protein glutaredoxin, or by direct chemical reduction from the millimolar intracellular RBC concentrations of glutathione. Because RBCs are extra quite a few than different blood cells, they do account for most of the vitamin C in

from in vitro cell models, DHA has been proposed to serve both as an alternate path or dominant path for ascorbate accumulation (Vera et al., 1993) (Nualart et al., 2003) (Agus et al., 1997). It is also attainable that intracellular vitamin C could play extra roles which may be completely different from that as cofactors for enzymes.

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fangbait3 · 2 years

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Get This Report about Kimola

You ought ton’t require to search every testimonial platform just to figure out what your individuals actually believe of you. What you are attempting to do is simply talk to a ton of questions about your product, and then possess a good look at what the real consumer of your product actually looks like so that they would know (and this is truly what they should look at). 5). Go to some arbitrary area, also if they don't pay for it. ( “Shhh, I’m attempting to reviewed all these Yelp customer reviews.“ ) But collecting and analyzing text record to develop your brand name is basically a full-time job if you don't possess the coding capabilities to improve the method. I've really devoted some time evaluating content website traffic, and I think the capacity to make use of Twitter's brand new 'hyperlink gathering' to produce the relevant information I receive about your individuals helps make it extremely very easy. Picture if there was actually a code-free device finding out system that let you collect and classify all your data, without the worry. No one who writes code really need to have that – but because it has the the majority of energy over the world it is often utilized by big providers to enhance efficiency and scalability. But this doesn't cease people from knowing regarding it, as well. We recognize that for every billion reviews, millions more record factors are documented. TL;DR Overview Kimola Cognitive is a no-code equipment learning device that gathers, examines, and identifies consumer reviews to help you expand your brand. The application includes a deep learning protocol that permits users to discover how to a lot better recognize the company's products and companies. It is likewise the second very most popular mobile app on Snapchat and one of the most extensively used among mobile phone developers. The app is free to the consumer. You may also examine out my other tutorials I've written on cognitive. Kimola Cognitive is a no-code equipment learning device that collects, studies, and classifies customer feedback to assist you expand your brand name. With Cognitive, you'll be able to conveniently construct and utilize your very own resources and apps, and possess your product in front of your eyeballs as swiftly as achievable. This app will certainly offer you the resources you need to change your label with smart attribute that you can't observe in other sources. - Produce a Item from a Listing of Your Products. Kimola Cognitive produces it easy to examine consumer testimonials, products, solutions, and topics , so you may create better marketing approaches. , so you may build better marketing strategies. In-store analytics allow individuals understand when they are getting a terrific encounter, and how easy it is to compare products vs. their rivals. . Analytics give ideas right into how you match up products to various other competitors that you are a member of. Utilize the drag-and-drop interface to evaluate text message in over six languages —all without any type of coding. When it happens to understanding the differences between phrases, you might discover that German makes up one of the most prominent subject matters within the body, though in my example, I chose to utilize it as one-line topic through palm. The various other foreign language I chose to analyze was Esperanto. You may post a dataset to comprehend the very most well-liked conditions in types, like institutions, folks, and areas. To see an image of what individuals say, use our full-size photo visitor. You can also share this graphic along with your loved ones, friends, and co-workers. The device offers all the essential devices to aid you develop the finest feasible dataset for your company. There are actually thus lots of variables that may influence the top quality of your information. submit a dataset to recognize the very most well-liked phrases in categories, like organizations, individuals, and sites. It then functions a "much-loved dataset" of these phrases or their substitute in other popular terms to obtain the a lot of out of each of them. Why do consumers take the dataset? The response for the majority of folks here isn't that they like the end result, it's merely that they aren't in the best frame of reference to went through. Record analysis is just one part of it.

You’ll likewise be capable to produce a file to expose client insights along with effective hunt and advanced filtering options. The attribute of this feature are currently topic to adjustment. Why do I need to have to add this component? Your Profile Information If I take care of to deliver you with an e-mail address without using a registration/relevant information carrier profile, I are going to deliver it to I will certainly supply you a call form, and an e-mail deal with by which you can ask for your companies. Submit your data and immediately create a document to assist you recognize your consumers’ behaviors. Now you can find how your business links clients. Check out your company by keyword. Along with your brand-new organization, you can consistently discover the key phrases you've been browsing for to produce your company more appropriate to your clients. Get an guide of your organization with an easy-to-follow file Gain insights on all features of your service.

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Upload your data and instantaneously generate a document to help you recognize your consumers’ behaviors. Now you can easily observe how your company connects clients. Check out your organization by key phrase. Along with your new business, you can consistently locate the keywords you've been browsing for to make your service extra appropriate to your clients. Receive an summary of your company along with an easy-to-follow file Earn knowledge on all facets of your service. Thanks to Kimola Cognitive’s browser extension, you’ll be able to anonymously compile consumer evaluations . Currently you may view all assessments and view how much it strengthened your score. This permits you to possess a much more straightforward appearance at how a lot of folks are actually doing a really good project of their job. You’ll likewise observe your rating instantly improved as you relocate on to the upcoming evaluation. Solution Can Be Seen Here ought to not are afraid of any type of customer review coming from unknown people or third celebrations.

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johnathanvazs736 · 2 years

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10 Inspirational Graphics About 1oz Koko Nuggz Peanut Butter Rice Krispie

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While I've appreciated the large majority of my 23 years as such, I do not encourage it throughout a pandemic. The final 18 months have actually been the second-worst psychological health and wellness time frame of my lifestyle, benched to that place certainly not given that of the mildness of my signs yet simply because at 15 I didn't have the encounter or even standpoint to discover my life was not, as a matter of fact, wrecked permanently (1oz Koko Nuggz Peanut Butter Rice Krispie).

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One of those two was out of community but close sufficient to meet, however the various other was actually a few hrs' dispel. I'm singular and real-time alone; it was actually one of the most separated I've ever resided in my whole lifestyle. Along with my bestest good friends over five hundred kilometers away, I still experience in this way often (Koko Nuggz Peanut Butter Rice Krispie).

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stagebridge1 · 2 years

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What Is a Behavioural Optometrist?

The people are frequently confused as to how a Behavioural Optometrist differs by regular optometry. This kind of failure to identify the difference between the particular two can cause youngsters having less than adequate eye testing, specifically with regards in order to learning difficulties. Therefore it is important for parents to understand the distinction between a Behavioural Optometrist and also other types of vision health care professionals. The Idea of the Behavioural Optometrist The Behavioural Optometrist differs coming from standard practice within his basic philosophy. As a Behavioural Optometrist, I do not treat eyeballs but instead consider the particular entire person, like an examination certainly not only of their particular eyes but furthermore of the approach that they acquire in, organize and use the visible information supplied by simply the eyes.

back pain treatment Melbourne and vision care professionals take care of standard eye conditions for example long web site, short sight, astigmatism and eye illness. As a Behavioural Optometrist, I treat most of these problems also but make an effort to go beyond this to check out how the particular individual is definitely typically the information obtained through the visual system within their everyday lives. This means that I go past just testing typically the refractive error associated with the eyes, striving rather to realize how a person utilizes their focus, eye coordination, eye actions and visual perception. This change involving philosophy is specifically important when it comes to youngsters with learning problems, because most children along with learning problems could see both the board and their own books well. Inside such cases that is clearly not a lack of seeing ability of which is affecting their own learning, but instead the inability to read, understand and manipulate the visual info that they have taken in through their eyes in addition to visual system. Typically the Behavioural Optometrist will certainly not only prescribe the appropriate contacts, but will also usually prescribe vision remedy to help the kid develop true comprehension of the subject make a difference and help them to be able to develop the abilities that will they need in order to learn efficiently during their life. The particular Creativity with the Behavioural Optometrist Among the things I actually love about as being a Behavioural Optometrist is the fact that I am generally called upon to do more compared to churn out the appropriate numbers necessary for spectacle prescriptions. Sure, I prescribe lenses merely like a regular eye care professional, but I'll frequently vary the power and design of these types of lenses based on the particular tasks and wishes associated with the patient. To put it briefly, I go beyond just reproducing the particular numbers I have measured, but rather invest time creatively thinking about the best lenses to accommodate the patient's needs, whether they are really truck drivers, computer users, students or homemakers. It is good the particular opportunity to become creative with respect vision therapy, building new and modern therapies, exercises and even games to aid youngsters with learning problems reach their complete potential in their classroom. These have become very successful and we have experienced amazing development on the list of children who else have pursued these types of therapies, and eyesight therapy remains the central section of the practice that is the two creative and drastically different from our peers. My Voyage as a Behavioural Optometrist The reason that I've researched and pursued developing a Behavioural Optometrist is because I have my own, personal exclusive journey and account when it will come to learning. Amazingly, I achieved it via grade school, high school and college with a highlighting and eye dexterity problem that limited the amount of time I actually could focus on around objects. I found myself personally dividing my examine time up directly into 20 minute slices, so I would likely study for thirty minutes then possess a drink, study one more 20 minutes prior to going to the bathroom, etc. I perhaps caused it to be through optometry school having our eyes tested a dozen times, constantly being told My partner and i was shortly sighted and therefore my eyes were perfect. However , whenever I became enthusiastic about Behavioural Optometrist, I recently found that my strange study habits had been due to centering and eye coordination difficulties that experienced remained undetected inside of my regular vision test. I've delivered from my initial Behavioural Optometrist class to my possess practice, made up of different match of reading glasses, and these substantially changed my living! I can now sit at a computer all study for hours as a result of the special improved lenses I was ready to prescribe when I recognised the problem. So in case you want eye-sight care that goes over and above the basic vision conditions and vision disease detection, making a stop in the Behavioural Optometrist could be some sort of life changing time both for oneself and your children.

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springpisces08 · 2 years

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This I Learned From My Father's Death

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rhb5Nt80Bk&list=PLK2xSmHW52SQioO8ZOumk9GoTrFwiILcG First, consider whether the deceased will cremated or. If the deceased renders this decision before his or her her death, it will be the responsibility from the family members, or whoever is proper decisions, to honor this wish. When the deceased had not expressed his or her wishes, it expires to the whole family members to decide whether the body be cremated or less than.

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At nearly 60 many years of age I'm much more aware of the items my own obituary will personally look like. As a youthful indian man man I never gave this much thought. But in the case you carefully consider this within a younger age you possess a powerful tool to assist realize may only have so a lot of time to choose your dreams.

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I worked for several pathologists whose job diet plans . to determine the regarding injury towards cells and tissues, would like a person died and look at biopsies create diagnoses of either benign or cancer. I have seen many things that typical individuals will never see in their lifetime except perhaps as movies. Freshly traumatized bodies from automobile accidents, a guy whose body was almost totally bruised, which gotten a response to carbon monoxide poisoning as his car stood idling along the roadside for hours, any other such maladies. The most difficult autopsy for me to assist to was of ones young baby whose little body was stored your market refrigerator in the morgue awaiting autopsy. I still don't forget that one quite vividly. Find out the place the location where funeral will be to held. Some families will have the funeral service at a funeral home, while others can get it at the cemetery or the local synagogue. It certainly wasn't this appeared to get to the naked eyeball. It was a pellet that had been drilled with two tiny holes at right angles just about every other. It looked to some extent like a bowling ball, except with two holes instead of three. Gall and his associates examined the poison that killed Markov and sent the pellet to the police lab for more in depth examination.

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ashley40egeberg · 2 years

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Prestantiousnovel 《The Legend of Futian》 - Chapter 2602 - Submission hum valuable to you-p1

Jellynovel The Legend of Futian - Chapter 2602 - Submission cart poison suggest-p1

Novel-The Legend of Futian-The Legend of Futian Chapter 2602 - Submission confused seat He assumed how the headlines must be a fact. There seemed to be no need for Mei Ting to rest to him. If this type of had been a plan by the Devil Society against Ye Futian, it absolutely was unwanted. If the Devil Emperor desired to cope with him, it would be child’s participate in for those past to do so. Ye Futian mentioned, “The incident in the past resulted in my vendetta against Shen clan with the Cheaper Worlds. Even when you signed up with in at a later time, I do not possess a formidable purpose to annihilate you. I can give you a selection.” “I know. Nonetheless it was quite rushed last time. This point, I am going to examine if it is possible to skilled center subscribers among you. I will bring in them to the Ziwei Segmentum for far better teaching,” Ye Futian responded. Shen clan lord was fuming within, but he still nodded his mind and claimed, “Alright.” Section 2602: Submissions “From currently onwards, Shen clan will comply with my commands,” Ye Futian suggested by using a domineering sculpt. He needed a giant-stage power to present to him and operate under his order. proximate and ultimate causes evolution What Mei Ting said was correct. With Yu Sheng’s persona, he couldn’t bargain together with the Devil Emperor. Ye Futian did not know what type of guy the latter was for the present time, however the excel at who determined within the Devil Planet would definitely be extremely imposing. The demonic strategies that he or she cultivated would be extremely domineering. One could think about the individuality of those anyone. “Hmm.” Ye Futian failed to dare to seem Hua Jieyu from the eyeballs as he responded. Ye Futian found a skies stream. The liquid was black colored and was accompanied by terrifying hard storms. It appeared such as river was hanging out of the sky. Ye Futian persisted to buy, “Give me all of the teachings of Shen clan. Besides that, I will guide a small grouping of Shen clan main associates to enhance in Ziwei Imperial Palace.” Shen clan lord’s manifestation converted inflexible upon seeing and hearing his obtain. During the resting quarters of Ziwei Imperial Palace, Ye Futian sat on your own, seemingly deeply in contemplation. “They were definitely certainly the sightless ones,” Hua Jieyu responded with a pleasant smile. Shen clan lord was very supportive in so that Ye Futian’s require was became aquainted with. From then on, Ye Futian left using the gang of picked out Shen clan members. However, he didn’t go back to the Ziwei Segmentum along with them. As an alternative, he entrusted Sightless Tie to steer them back again. He experienced go to the Shen clan with Blind Tie up. The surname of your Shen clan members was “Shen.” Their forefathers were deity-point numbers and Great Emperors. Sad to say, their ancestor’s inheritances were definitely not pa.s.sed lower. Inspite of that, their skills were actually formidable. “It has been 137 years since we primary became aquainted with, and this also is our 133rd 12 months together with each other,” Hua Jieyu responded softly. It was now Calendar year 10,133 with the Divine Prefecture Schedule. They chosen becoming a pair throughout the firework festivity, which labeled the coming of Year 10,000 with the Divine Prefecture Schedule. “Hmm.” Ye Futian failed to dare to seem Hua Jieyu on the view while he replied. Ye Futian silently stared at Shen clan lord. His serious and dim gaze brought about the second to believe all his ideas were actually revealed facing Ye Futian. Regardless that Ye Futian was still younger, each his abilities and his systems were alarming. Additional giant drive was the Shen clan. These folks were writing about the Devil Planet now. Furthermore, Yu Sheng was jailed through the Devil Emperor. “Have you decided? I don’t have a lot of time to waste materials listed here,” Ye Futian urged. Following he got a much better knowledge of the worlds, only then did he know that the Devil Entire world along with the Divine Prefecture have been neighboring areas. The areas of the two significant worlds ended up linked! This became the Dark-colored River, the boundary which separated the Divine Prefecture as well as the Devil Environment. Right after an individual crossed the Dark River, they would arrive at the gates, which may lead them to the Devil Entire world. “It has been 137 decades since we first became aquainted with, and this also is our 133rd 12 months together with each other,” Hua Jieyu responded carefully. It was subsequently now 12 months 10,133 of the Divine Prefecture Calendar. They chosen in becoming a couple during the firework celebration, which noted the coming of Year 10,000 from the Divine Prefecture Calendar. Now, the Shen clan only minded their unique organization. Before, they had been infected once by Ye Futian. Even up to now, there have been still many Shen clan cultivators who are kept in the Ziwei Segmentum. As a result, the Shen clan did not even dare to partic.i.p.consumed within the combination of wars from the Ziwei Segmentum. “This will be your strategy for humiliating Shen clan,” Shen clan lord said coldly. The Shen clan lord’s term was unappealing. The Shen clan was the descendent of G.o.ds. That they had a wealthy traditions and ended up one of several overlords. These folks were one of many pushes which endured for the top among all makes of the Divine Prefecture. “Moreover, even to be able to press your good fortune and take a chance, then why not other members of Shen clan?” Ye Futian continued to tension the Shen clan lord. This news that Mei Ting introduced designed Ye Futian restless. Ye Futian himself attended the To the north Cliff Vicinity, the boundary of your 18 areas on the Divine Prefecture. “Yes, sir,” Shen clan lord reacted while cutting down his top of your head. It was subsequently like he acquired accepted his new posture. Shen clan lord frowned and required, “What would you really mean?” The gaze of Shen clan lord was life threatening preset on Ye Futian. The former was fighting fiercely internally. The gaze of Shen clan lord was deadly resolved on Ye Futian. The first kind was fighting fiercely internally. Many things moved without saying for Ye Futian as a way to display in front of him without any seem or find. If Ye Futian attacked them, the territory of the Shen clan could be reduced to toned soil quickly. “Hmm.” Ye Futian did not dare to look Hua Jieyu during the sight when he responded. The Taishang Domain was really a strong area on the Divine Prefecture. When it comes to potential, Taishang Sector Main rated within the leading three among the list of 18 Website Chiefs. In addition, there are two massive makes during the domain name. One of them was the Jiang Historic G.o.d Clan. “It continues to be greater than 100 years.” Ye Futian stared with the attractiveness before him, smiled, and reported, “At the moments, Yu Sheng so i were actually the two still youths. That you were the best beauty of Qingzhou Academy. Once you decreased deeply in love with me, likely everybody in the academy believed you had long gone blind.” Ye Futian himself traveled to the North Cliff Location, the edge of your 18 websites in the Divine Prefecture. Ye Futian’s cardiovascular system noticed warmer since he stared at her lovely encounter. Hua Jieyu was likely the one that understood him very best on the planet. This became indeed a very simple decision to make. Having said that, such a very simple preference would figure out the destiny of all Shen clan subscribers. In that case, your next query he necessary to ponder was what he would do regarding it? “Go forward,” Hua Jieyu stated specifically.

#ull #the odd couple women's version #mokushirok

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lys1 · 3 years

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Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words.

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

#the arcana game #asra alnazar #the arcana #asra lemon #asra smut #asra x reader #asra x female reader #writing #fanfic #arcana smut #arcana #arcana fanfic #asra fanfic

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teacupfulofstarshine · 3 years

Text

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP CHAPTER 10

PLEASE HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS!!! this chapter features Evil Scientist Lady and her Fucked Up WorldView a LOT, and there are also some Major Plot Events that involve Violence. i will put a summary in the end notes if you decide at any point that this particular chapter is too much - that's super valid! i will also mention here that no main characters are going to die in this story and no one dies in this chapter either.

huge huge thanks to @flamingfawkes for beta’ing!

CW: extreme disregard for human life, mentioned human and animal cruelty, toxic workplace environment, violence (both imagined and actual, mildly graphic), gun mention, minor blood, death threats, extremely unethical character, unethical science, stalking

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 // chapter 8 // chapter 9 // read it on ao3!

“This is the same result we’ve gotten the last twenty times -”

“I don’t care, Steven, run it again!”

Steven sighs, punching at the keyboard to run the statistical analysis sequence again. “This is ridiculous! I’ve run this sequence so many times it feels like my eyes are going to bleed. Why can’t we just turn in the results we have and -”

“Because she’ll behead us,” James snaps, “and then she’ll destroy our reputations and our families and they’ll get no severance. I have three young children at home, Steven, I need this money.” Steven softens a little, fingers running smoothly over the keys as he combs the data again. Next to him, James has a computer screen full of frame-by-frame stills of what little data they recovered from the probe before it was destroyed; Penny across the room is surrounded by ancient texts a mile high and at least three laptops.

“Why is she so interested in this, anyway?”

“It’s beyond me. Since when do we question the whims of what we’re told to do?”

Steven squints at the screen, pushing his chair back and rubbing at his eyes. “If I have to stare at these numbers for one more second, my brain is going to explode. I feel like my eyeballs are going to melt out of my skull. I wanna scream.”

James pulls up another image, staring at the blurry image of the merman before him. Steven pushes away from his own screen and squints at James’s. The merman in the photo looks young, not much older than his kid brother, but they don’t know anything about the lifespan of these creatures. He looks confused, squinting at the camera. As James flicks through the stills, the merman transitions from confused to angry to enraged, and then he attacks.

“He’s not happy about the camera.”

“Would you be happy about someone spying on you and your family?” James says, switching to the next still.

“I wouldn’t be happy if I thought someone was doing anything we do in this lab to me or my family.” James elbows Steven, but luckily no one else seems to have heard.

“This lab isn’t the most ethical place I’ve ever worked, but it pays the bills,” James mutters. “And we’re not even in the experimentation lab. We just do data analysis. We’re removed from the situation.”

Are we? Steven wonders. He sees James reach out and touch the framed picture of his daughters, and keeps his mouth shut. He turns back to his computer, watching the little spinning color wheel of his mouse as the program calculates the same numbers again and again. The results come up identical to the previous ones, and Steven clicks “Run Program” again wordlessly.

They work in silence for a while, the three of them, broken only by James’s muttering and the occasional thud of one of Penny’s books and the clicks of keyboards and mice. If they weren’t so reliant on technology, Steven thinks, there would be an enormous corkboard spanning three of the four walls, covered in pushpins and handwriting and red string connecting images. He debates actually building one, if only to increase the levity in the room, but decides against it.

He’s seen people punished or fired or who-knows-what-else for far less, after all.

Instead, after his program tells him for the twenty-third time that his results are the same (and didn’t someone say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?), Steven scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms and opens the data entry window. Maybe the problem with the results has to do with the entry of the data; did he input something wrong? It’s possible . . .

Here he goes again, he supposes. He stands up, stretches, and leans back to crack some vertebrae. “I’m gonna grab a coffee, take a short screen break, and go back to the beginning. Maybe there’s something in the input that I missed. You want anything?”

James groans, thunking his head against the desk. “I want something with enough caffeine to kill three elephants, please.” Steven nods, looking over at Penny. She shakes her head, and he heads for the shitty coffee machine a few doors down.

Several floors below, a young woman pulls her lab goggles up to rest on top of her head with her perfectly-pinned protocol-compliant bun. “The latest round of tests is completely done, ma’am. I think you’ll find the efficacy . . . striking.”

She takes the clipboard, glossy perfectly-painted nails pinching the sheets of thin paper and flicking between them. “I’m afraid I don’t do so well with the scientific side of things - Kathleen, was it? Explain this to me, would you?”

“Certainly, ma’am. As you know, the kill time for the most effective neurotoxin currently available, tetrodotoxin, varies from thirty minutes to four hours. Average time for symptoms to manifest is seventeen minutes, and from there the symptoms progress through tingling of the lips and tongue, headache, vomiting, muscle weakness, ataxia, et cetera. Death occurs as a result of respiratory or heart failure, and the poison is nearly undetectable if you do not specifically test for it.”

“The untraceability is a plus, but that is far too wide a range of times, and too slow a time even at its fastest.”

“Of course, ma’am, but as far as naturally-occurring marine poisons go - actually, as far as naturally-occurring poisons go, full stop - it is the most effective. Until now, that is.”

“Oh? What are your findings?”

“Which trials would you like to start with, ma’am?”

“The human trials, Kathleen. The only ones that matter. I hardly intend to go around killing mice and hoping that no one traces their deaths to a novel neurotoxin.” She laughs airily, and Kathleen nods along.

“Certainly, ma’am. The most recent data points indicate an average efficacy time of thirteen minutes for our compound neurotoxin, with a full range between nine and seventeen minutes passing before subject death. Subjects began to show symptoms around five minutes, give or take twenty-five seconds.”

“And those symptoms were?”

Kathleen flips through the document. “Seizures, vital organ failure, blindness, painful muscle spasms, suffocation from the inside out.”

She hums, tapping a manicured finger against the report. “Well, Kathleen, that is certainly impressive, especially for a preliminary human subject trial. These results . . . I must say, they are not nearly as disappointing as I anticipated when I came down here.”

“Ma’am?”

“How long have you worked for this company, Kathleen?”

“Almost five years, ma’am, but I’ve always been an assistant. This is my first time as lead researcher and biochemist on a project, ever since you . . . laid off the previous lead researcher.”

“Kathleen, let me be frank. These results are not what I hoped for. The efficacy time and symptom onset times are both far too long for my liking, and the range of efficacy time is too broad. By all accounts, I should consider this a failure.” Kathleen swallows, but remains poised. “However, you’ve managed to shave off a considerable amount of time from the tetrodotoxin readings. The range of symptom onset time is an acceptable breadth, and your results are far beyond anything your predecessor ever accomplished for me. This is truly impressive, all things considered.”

“Thank you, ma’am. How should I proceed?”

“I want the efficacy doubled - tripled - I want it upped by anywhere between four and five hundred percent. I want the pain increased, too. Feel free to increase your requests for test subjects, but get me the results I want. You said the original tetrodotoxin was untraceable?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

“Can you keep that feature intact?”

“As of right now, it is intact, ma’am. I will endeavor to keep it so in future experiments.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Welcome to your new position as head of this research division. Don’t let me down.” She holds out a slender hand, and Kathleen takes it, trying not to seem too eager.

“I won’t, ma’am.”

“How soon can you start this experiment up again?”

“The cleaners should be finished by tomorrow morning, ma’am, and I can tweak chemical formulas until then.”

“Excellent.” Her watch beeps, and she lifts it, pursing her bright lips as she examines the message she’s just received. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another matter to attend to. Someone will drop off your master access key for Lab Three within the hour.”

She steps into the elevator and lifts her watch up to her face, swiping through the messages from her secretary. One finger reaches out to press the button for the digital analysis labs floor, and the other taps away at her watch.

When she steps off the elevator, her secretary is waiting. “Ma’am.”

“What do they have for me?”

“Unclear. They said it was something they wanted to report directly to you and you alone, but it seems to be something big.”

“Hopefully it’s a big step in the right direction, or they’ll be taking a big step out of a job.” She relishes in the way the employees she passes all unfailingly flinch and then snap to perfect attention when they hear the sharp echo of her heels against the floor. She lifts her head and walks faster, striking the tiles with her heels like a gavel, sharp and precise against a judge’s desk.

The computer labs are disorganized when she enters, but there is a string of promising-looking numbers on the main display monitor. There is a woman surrounded by books and a man pulling up photos on his computer, and there is a third man standing in front of her like a toy soldier. She focuses on that one.

“I hear you have news for me? Make it swift, and make it good.”

He swallows, hard, and her eyes idly trace the line of his throat. If he disappoints her, perhaps she will drive her heel through it, to make an example of him. That would be far too messy; perhaps his dominant hand will do.

“I have narrowed down the location of the missing net, ma’am. I believe it to have washed up somewhere around these general GPS coordinates.” He fiddles with a remote in his hand, and the image on the screen changes. It shows an aerial satellite view of a secluded strip of beach, framed by rocky cliffs with larger rocks studded out into the open water. “It should have washed up somewhere in this one-point-three-seven-mile strip of beach. The whole area is property of one Doctor Thomas Sanders.”

She snarls. “That man. He won’t let us on that beach willingly until hell freezes over.”

The other man, the one scanning through photo stills and video footage, jumps up, knocking his chair backwards. “I found something!”

She turns towards him, and his excitement freezes and sputters into something much more controlled and terrified. “Show me.” He clicks something and pulls up video footage from one of their surveillance drones, zooming in on a particular patch of ocean along the stretch of Sanders’ beach. Her eyes widen when she sees what he’d noticed - a hump of red-and-white tail arcing above the waves before a pattern of ripples streaks off towards the cliff. He pauses the footage, rewinds it, uses a laser pointer to show an opening concealed in the cliff face.

“There’s some kind of grotto in there, hidden by the cliff. It’s on Sanders’ property, he has to know it’s there. And it looks like the merman from the destroyed drone knows it’s there too. Which means -”

“That must be where he’s keeping them.” Something burns in her chest, brilliant and terrifying and all-encapsulating, like wildfire. “We’ve found them, at long last.”

“What would you have me do?” her secretary asks. “I can arrange for a recovery squad at your earliest possible convenience, ma’am.”

“Assemble the squad, but do not have them move out. They will wait for my orders. When they go, you are to go with them.” Her secretary nods, once, sharp and sure. “Dispatch a crew to Lab One and clear it out. I want it prepped for containment, vivisection, chemical tests - the works. Get at least three tanks set up and one strap-down human table.”

“A human table, ma’am?”

“Yes. We have to deal with Sanders once and for all to ensure that he does not ruin any future experiments.”

“Will we be taking him as well?”

She hums thoughtfully. “No. Pull up the file we have on his known associate?”

A few swift clicks and flicks and a photo appears on the large screen: a young man with brown-and-purple hair, sleeves rolled up, carefully lowering a perfectly viable specimen into the ocean and letting it go, like some kind of fool. “His doctoral student, ma’am. The longest one he’s ever kept - this one has been with him a few years.”

“Excellent. When you raid the lab, take him.”

“Should we kill Sanders?”

“No. Rough him up a little, but leave him alive. Taking his protégé and leaving him alone, helpless to rescue him, will be the highest form of torture for such an insufferable person. The agony will eat him alive until his dying day.”

Her secretary nods, taking the notes down dutifully. The other employees look vaguely horrified, but she pays them no mind. No sacrifice is too great to be made in the name of progress, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a weakling who will never get anywhere in life.

She refuses to be one of those weaklings.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan wakes up confused.

He’s warm, warmer than he thinks he’s ever been in his whole life. When he stirs, he moves farther than he meant to - he must not be underwater. That’s enough to send a jolt of concern through his sleep-addled brain. Why isn’t he underwater? Why was he sleeping if he was above the surface? There’s no way his dad is here, and Roman hates surfacing, where are they? Where is he? But he’s so comfortable . . .

Someone shifts beside him, an arm draping across his waist, and Logan forces his eyes open. He shifts his lower half, confused when two things move instead of one, and there are layers upon layers of thin, flat, soft things wrapping around him. What is happening?

Slowly, slowly, his mind clears, and he remembers the events of last night. He grew legs - he was a human, once, before he was mer - he couldn’t sleep underwater with Dad and Roman - Virgil was teaching him to walk - Virgil put “clothes” on him - Virgil was embarrassed that he didn’t have those “clothes” on him - Virgil took him out of the lab to sleep - Virgil agreed to cuddle him since his pod couldn’t -

Logan feels the strange burning in his face again as he shifts. He can’t see well in this new human form, but when things are close enough to his face they’re relatively clear. And Virgil, still sleeping, is close enough that Logan can smell him - he smells like salt water mixed with something sharp and something sweet and something else that Logan can’t quite identify but finds addicting nonetheless. Sunlight streams in and pools around Virgil’s face, illuminating the tangled mess of hair spread around him and flopping into his face, the small puddle of water leaking out from his open mouth onto the soft thing he’s resting his head on, the way his chest moves slowly with every breath. His arm is wrapped around Logan, pulling him close. Logan thinks he might explode if he focuses on this any more, so he rolls from his side to his back as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake Virgil. Virgil tightens his arm around Logan and mutters something indecipherable in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake.

Rather than focusing on his very confusing feelings for the very pretty man next to him, Logan focuses on what he can see of the room around him. He makes a list in his mind of things that he plans to ask Virgil about later today, including:

1: There are many draws attached to the small, smooth cliffs surrounding them. How do they stay there?

2: There are lots of “clothes” scattered all around the floor, and there were several on the bed, too. Is that normal for humans?

3: Last night, Virgil did something that made the room light up with trapped sunlight! How did he do that?

4: How did Virgil get ice to stay in those big frozen sheets in such a warm place to let the sunlight in?

5: How did Virgil make ice into that weird shape that he filled with water and drank last night?

6: How did Virgil get the water to come into this place?

7: Do all humans have a specific area set aside for sleeping? Logan and his pod usually just sleep wherever they can, but Virgil seems to have this soft slab set aside with all of these soft things to be comfortable and sleep in every night. Is this a Human Thing or strictly a Virgil Thing?

Logan looks out through the sheet of ice that protects Virgil’s area from the outside and gasps. He can’t see well, but there’s a glittering expanse of blue that shifts and moves and oh, is that the ocean?

He’s spent his whole life (well, his whole remembered life, anyways) in the ocean, and he’s seen some truly wondrous things. He travels around the world with his pod, he knows the ocean is big, but seeing it spread out like this is . . . awe-inspiring. Logan has never seen the ocean like this, and now that he has he doesn’t think he can ever not see it like this again. It’s like a perfect sheet of sea-glass, rippling and unbroken but dynamic in a way that he never really gets a sense of when he’s beneath it.

He knows that there are waves, of course. There are smaller swells out on the open ocean, and larger ones when the Second Goddess dips her fingers down from the Upper Ocean and swirls the storms to a thundering burst. There are waves along the shoreline, ones that he frolics in with Roman and batter him against the shoreline. There are waves created when he or his pod members surface. But watching the movement of the ocean from up here is . . .

Even with his imperfect vision, he is completely at a loss for words as he stares at the ocean.

Eventually, Virgil stirs next to him, and Logan turns away from the ocean to stare at him. Virgil is close to him, arms wrapped tightly around him, face pressed against him. Logan’s eyesight is not great, but Virgil is close enough that he can pick out little details of his face. There are brown face scales scattered all over him, but they seem to cluster on his nose and his cheeks. Logan has wanted to touch them for a substantial amount of time, and he can’t stop himself from gently settling the tips of his fingers over Virgil’s cheek.

His face doesn’t feel like Logan was expecting. The scales don’t give texture to his face the way that Logan’s do; the skin is smooth and flat. There are little bumps all over, but the brown scales aren’t raised off the skin like Logan expected. He lets his fingers trail along Virgil’s face. His bone structure seems to be exceedingly similar to Logan’s, at least in regards to his head. Logan’s finger rests gently on the curve of bone under Virgil’s eye, and Virgil exhales warm breath onto his palm.

Logan wonders what it would be like to have this for longer than just his recovery period. He wonders what it would be like to wake up next to Virgil all the time, to get to run his hands over Virgil’s face and arms and chest and examine the differences between their anatomy. He wonders what it would be like to learn to walk without falling over, and he feels a sharp, unexpected twinge in his chest as he realizes that getting better at walking means no more closeness to Virgil.

His chest feels strange, like there’s a school of small fish swarming around and tickling his insides and making him feel all foamy, like the froth churned up by a windswept sea. He feels like he does when he’s underwater - free, weightless, mobile, limited by nothing except his own imagination. He feels unstoppable.

Virgil makes a sudden, sharp inhale, blinking his eyes open slowly. Logan thinks that, perhaps, he might not appreciate being studied unknowingly - he hadn’t appreciated Virgil doing it, before he understood what was happening, when all he knew was the loss of his pod aching like a scraped-out seashell. As Virgil wakes up, Logan shifts, turning his gaze to the rest of the room.

Virgil makes a sleepy grumbling noise, opening one eye. Logan chances another quick glance at him, and when his eye slides open Logan is struck by its beauty. He doesn’t get much of a chance to admire it, however, before Virgil is jolting backwards like Logan’s struck him with lightning. Logan is confused, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder. “Virgil?”

“Wassat?! Wait . . . L’gan?”

“It is me,” Logan says softly. “Are - are you upset with me?”

Virgil yawns, jaw dropping to his chest, revealing a flash of teeth and a soft pink tongue. (Logan wants to lick it. Why does Logan want to lick it? Why is Logan thinking about Virgil’s tongue licking his tongue - why is Logan thinking about Virgil - what in the Seven Oceans is happening to him.) “Wh - no, no, ‘m okay, I just - woke up, forgot I had you with me, got confused about another person in my bed.” Before Logan can start to feel bad, Virgil adds, “S’okay if it’s you, though,” and the foamy, floaty feeling is back.

“Did you sleep well?”

Virgil laughs, low and rumbling, and Logan can feel it in his fingers where he touches Virgil’s skin. “I never sleep well.” He sits up, and the fabric of his pajamas shifts to let Logan see stretches of soft, supple skin that he usually doesn’t. Logan wants to touch it. He very determinedly keeps his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Gotta admit, though, last night was . . . better than usual.”

This appears to be the point where Virgil first notices their position - pressed together, arm slung over Logan, basically cuddling the way that Logan normally would with his pod. (No tangle with his pod has ever felt this . . . electric, this charged, this important to Logan before.) His face flares a brilliant red, and he shifts like he wants to move away but -

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Logan blurts out. Virgil blinks at him a little, and maybe he was a little overly enthusiastic, but - “I sleep in a tangle with Dad and Roman all the time. I have extreme difficulty sleeping without contact with someone else. It . . . helped me greatly.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, face turning redder still, smiling shyly. “That - makes me feel better. Thanks, Lo.”

Logan smiles, and Virgil smiles too, reaching up to gently move a piece of hair away from his face. Logan thinks that, as far as deaths go, his chest exploding (which seems to be getting more and more likely every fifteen seconds he spends in Virgil’s presence, only accelerated by all this skin-on-skin contact they’re having right now) seems to be the most pleasurable.

Virgil opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was is interrupted by a Ping! noise from across the room. “What is that?” Logan asks. Virgil, sadly, untangles himself from Logan and the blankets, sliding out of bed and heading over to one of the other structures in the room (what did he call it last night? Dex?) and picking up a flat glowing rectangle.

“Is everything alright?”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I - Thomas sent me a text, it’s a little weird.”

“What is a text?”

“It’s a kind of human messaging system, it allows us to communicate when we’re far away from each other.”

“Like a pod call?” “Kind of? I’ll explain more later, I promise, I just - I gotta go down to the lab real quick.”

“I’ll come with -”

“No!” Virgil snaps. Logan flinches, and Virgil softens, crossing the room and gently touching his shoulder. “Hey, no, Logan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just - this message, there’s something off. I think something might be wrong, and I don’t want to put you in any unnecessary danger. Just - wait here, okay? Wait in my room, where it’s safe. It’s probably nothing, he’s probably fine, but on the off chance that he’s not, I want you to stay hidden safely up here.”

Logan isn’t sure why this makes his face heat up slightly, but it does. “Okay. I accept your apology, and I . . . trust you.”

Virgil smiles, soft and heartwarming, and Logan is beginning to give more credence to his “chest explosion is fine, actually” theory. “Wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He leaves, shutting the door firmly behind him, and the foamy feeling in Logan’s chest dissipates a little. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s something . . . off. If Logan didn’t know better, he’d think that he was sensing a predator approaching.

But that can’t be right, he isn’t underwater. His danger senses are likely just overreacting to his disappointment at Virgil’s absence.

. . . Right?

*~*~*~*~*

Thomas is beginning to regret letting Roman and Patton (specifically, Roman) out of the large tank before finishing his first coffee of the morning.

“I want some!” Roman complains.

“Do you even know what it is?” Thomas says. Roman pouts sulkily at him.

“. . . No,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Thomas gives him the deadpan, no-nonsense, I-am-your-direct-superior-take-the-damn-samples-Virgil stare that he has perfected over the past few years. Roman wilts a little more, and Thomas feels slightly bad.

“It’s called coffee,” he says. “It’s a hot drink that lots of people have in the morning. Some people drink it plain, and some people add things to it to change the way it tastes. It helps me wake up more and get focused to start my day, and sometimes I drink it late at night to help keep me awake.”

Roman looks less like a kicked puppy and more like Logan, eyes wide and curious. “I want some!”

Thomas, taking a sip of his own two-seconds-of-cream-five-cubes-of-sugar coffee, nearly spits it out. He looks at Roman, eyes the very sharp, very detachable, very toxic spines covering his body, and says, “No.”

Roman’s demeanor changes entirely, switching from “curious toddler” to “toddler about to throw a temper tantrum” in a heartbeat. “Why not?!”

“Because when people drink coffee without being used to it, sometimes it makes them a little crazy.”

“I’m not crazy!”

“Do I need to recount to you how many times you’ve threatened me and my assistant since we met you?” Thomas says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not giving you coffee until I know I can trust you not to stab me with your poisonous spines that cover your entire body and can be fired at people.”

Roman pouts more, dropping under the water and letting out a gratingly harmonious string of mer that Thomas is pretty sure translates to Roman bitching about the coffee situation to his dad. Based on the pattern of Patton’s response, he’s pretty sure Patton is laughing at Roman.

More sulky chalkboard-violin music, and then Roman resurfaces grumpily. “Dad agrees with you and says no consuming strange human foods.”

“Did he laugh at you?”

Roman squints suspiciously at him. “You can’t speak our language.”

“Yeah, but I know what it sounds like when a dad laughs at his kid.” Roman, continuing to pout, sinks back into the tank, presumably to sulk some more. Thomas takes another very long sip of coffee that is definitely too hot for his mouth and turns back to his desk.

Virgil should definitely be awake and in the lab at this point. The samples he’s supposed to be analyzing are sitting in their little tubes, each neatly labelled with locations and dates and times and what, specifically, Virgil is supposed to be looking for. Thomas considers going upstairs and waking up Virgil, who’s almost never been late for work in this way, but he decides against it. Virgil is upstairs with Logan, and Thomas knows that there’s something building between them. He’s not sure how advisable that something is, but he trusts Virgil to make his own decisions.

Besides, he could probably use some practice. His water sample analysis skills are pretty rusty, he’s had Virgil doing them for years. “Virgil, you owe me big time for what I’m doing for you.” He carefully shifts the samples over to his own desk, slides his earbuds in, picks up a pipette, and gets to work analyzing the bacterial and algal concentrations for any abnormalities.

Thomas accomplishes about forty-five minutes’ worth of work before Roman interrupts him by flicking water at him and soaking the back of his neck. “Hey!”

“I tried your name, but your little ear bug things were keeping you from hearing me,” Roman says smugly. Thomas, not for the first time, considers retreating to the closet and throwing beakers until he feels better.

“Can I help you?”

“Dad wants to go hunting and bring back breakfast, but we can’t leave without you.”

“Are you not going hunting?”

“I’m going to stay here and observe you,” Roman says.

Thomas blinks. “Do I . . . need observing?”

“How do I know you won’t sell us out to your little human friends the second you get a chance? If I’m here, I can stop you. Plus, what if you do something to Logan while we’re not here to protect him? No, no, I’m staying right where I am and you can’t make me leave.” His spines ripple; Thomas steps closer to a whiteboard in case he needs to duck.

“I’m not going to do that, and I don’t want you to stab me.”

“Still! I’m staying here! Also, Dad’s bigger than me, and he’s a better hunter cause he’s faster and he’s been hunting longer.

“Does he need something to help him carry all those fish?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth like he’s going to say something snarky, pauses, and stops.

“I . . . usually we just eat what we catch when we catch it. We make a pile of prey and take turns guarding it while the other two hunt. Then we make a sacrifice to the Seven Mother Goddesses and eat what’s left.”

After some debate, Thomas is able to fashion a sling of sorts from some waterproof tarps and leftover anchor rope to tie around Patton’s body. “You can put the fish in this pouch and carry them back here. Will you be able to navigate your way back to the grotto?”

“He will,” Roman says. “Dad knows more about the ocean than any human possibly could.” Another discordant song from the tank, chastising, and Roman huffs. “Dad wants me to reassure you that he’ll be fine.”

Patton settles into the mobile tank easily, and Thomas gets him down to the grotto leading towards the sea. “When you come back, let out one of your pod calls and Virgil or I will come and collect you and your catch. Take as much time as you need, okay?”

Patton reaches up and gently pats Thomas’s arm with one large, damp hand, and Thomas takes that to mean an agreement. “Alright, off you go.” There’s a whoosh and a rush of water as it flows from the tank into the grotto in a clean arc, carrying Patton with it. Thomas waits for a moment, letting Patton disappear into the open ocean, before returning to the laboratory.

Roman, for the most part, ignores Thomas. He asks the occasional question, which Thomas tries to answer in a way that he’ll understand, and leans over the edge of his touch tank, eyes guarded. Every time Thomas sneaks a glance, when he thinks Roman isn’t looking, his expression is wide-eyed and wondrous, like Logan’s usually are, but the moment he realizes Thomas is watching him his entire face closes up like a clamshell.

Thomas wonders what it’ll take to get Roman to trust him, trust Virgil, trust any human. Granted, he doesn’t know Roman’s history with humans, but he and Patton are both fairly scarred, and Thomas might not know the whole story but he’d bet a not-insignificant amount of his monthly income that the giant starburst scar taking up the majority of Patton’s chest isn’t the result of a clash with a marine creature.

He works quietly, fielding the occasional question, keeping one ear on the grotto tunnel for Patton’s return. He’s not sure how long he expected Patton to be gone, but he hears movement in the grotto tunnel far sooner than he’d expected.

“Thomas, what’s -”

“Shhhh,” Thomas says. He stands up, pushing away from his desk, but before he can say anything else, there’s a flood of movement coming from the tunnel. Bodies pour into the lab, swift and strong and carrying weapons that they immediately train on Thomas and Roman.

“What is this?” Roman snaps, bristling. He sounds betrayed, like he thinks Thomas is behind this. Thomas picks up a heavy glass beaker, fully prepared to shatter it upside someone’s skull if necessary, but something heavy and hard strikes the back of his skull and he feels his knees crumple. Roman cries out, and Thomas struggles to push himself up. A hand fists itself in his hair and yanks him upright, sharply. Thomas exhales sharply through his teeth, but before he can start struggling, something cool and round rests against the back of his neck, shutting him up and shutting his brain down.

Roman is puffed up like a hedgehog, apparently fully prepared to defend Thomas despite his strong and inherent mistrust. Before he can begin to attack, Thomas hears the click-click-click of shoes on the hard stone floor. Whoever’s holding his head yanks him back again, and he is forced to watch as a woman walks into his laboratory.

(It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke - a sick, horrible, twisted joke.)

She has black heels, black tights, a black pencil skirt, a black blazer, and a blood-red blouse. Her hair is scraped back into a tight bun, pulled so taut it must hurt, and is held in place with a pitch black stick. She carries a - clipboard? tablet? Unclear - held against her chest, and there’s a sleek silver weapon in her right hand.

“The one from the video?” she asks.

“Affirmative, ma’am,” says the person holding Thomas’s head. The woman nods, lifting her weapon, and fires at Roman. Thomas tries to scream a warning, earning himself another painful yank from his captor, but the projectile lodges itself in Roman’s shoulder anyway.

It isn’t a bullet, but something that looks like a small syringe. Roman swats it out of his shoulder, swaying a little, but it doesn’t stop him from swiping at the - mercenary, they must be - who tries to grab him with his elbow spines. The woman frowns, lifts the weapon - some kind of tranquilizer gun? - and fires again.

Roman screams, inhuman and animal, and tears the newest dart from his arm, throwing himself out of his tank and clinging to the nearest mercenary. His teeth tear into the man’s shoulder, spines piercing through his camouflage clothing and flooding him with neurotoxin. The man collapses against the concrete, alive but unconscious, and Roman snarls at the next man as though daring him to approach. He sways, weakened but awake, and bares his teeth.

“Of course,” the woman says, tapping something on her tablet. “His naturally produced neurotoxin must be providing him with some level of natural resistance. Unexpected, but not a limitation.”

It takes three more tranquilizer darts before Roman finally slumps down into his tank, unconscious. The mercenaries look hesitant to approach him, but the woman reaches for her tablet and they scramble to action at once.

“No - no, stop, let him go, he’s not an animal for you to cart off to your lab -” Thomas starts. The man holding him knees him sharply in the back and he cries out, coughing.

They wrap Roman in thick leather bands, roughly shoving his spines flat and binding them against his skin so that he can’t attack them again. The woman nods, once, short and sharp, and they drag Roman away, letting his head bang mercilessly on the ground. Thomas catches a glimpse of a logo - emblazoned on the back of the jackets, on the back of the woman’s tablet, on the side of her tranquilizer gun - and commits it to memory. He’s going to need it, if he gets out of here alive.

“- your phone,” the woman says, and oh, when did she get in front of him.

“My what?”

His mouth runs dry as she places the tranquilizer gun under his chin, barrel pressing against his throat, and tips his chin up. “I said, give me your phone.”

Thomas blinks. “My - the desk. It’s on the desk.”

She sets her tablet down, picks up his phone, and shoves it in his face. “Open it.”

“I - wh -”

“Unlock your phone, Dr. Sanders. Must I repeat myself a third time?” She rolls her eyes. “Doctorates are wasted on people like you.”

Thomas numbly punches in his passcode, and she swipes through to his messages app, frowning before turning the screen towards his face to reveal a message thread with Virgil. “Is this your assistant?”

Thomas glares at her, he’s not going to give her what she wants, he’s not going to just give her Virgil but then the - gun, it must be a gun, what else would they be holding against his neck like this - pushes into him harder, and it’s probably bruising, and he can’t get himself killed here because then he definitely won’t be able to take care of Virgil and -

“Yes,” Thomas says, hating himself for giving in so easily. “What do you -”

She turns away from him, nails clicking against his phone screen as she sends a text message - to Virgil, presumably, and that makes his heart sink like a stone - before dropping it on the floor and stepping on it to shatter it. “I have a message for you.”

“A - what?”

“Did they really hit you that hard, or were you this stupid before we came here?” she says coldly, picking up the tablet again and tapping at the screen. Thomas groans as the man yanks him to his feet, shoving him onto his chair and pulling a roll of duct tape out of one of his multiple pants pockets. He tapes Thomas’s wrists and ankles to the chair, keeping his weapon trained on Thomas’s temple at all times, before pressing it roughly against his head and gripping his hair again.

The woman sets the tablet on his lab table, and the screen flickers to life, and then there’s a woman in front of a dark black backdrop, smiling at him like a cat who’s caught a canary. “Thomas Sanders. How long I’ve waited for this day.”

Thomas recognizes her. He knows he recognizes her. She used to be his classmate, before . . .

His head hurts, so badly that he can barely keep his eyes open, and the memory slips away. “You . . . why are you doing this?”

“Why? Because I am a real scientist, unlike you. You refuse to do what is necessary, what must be done for the progression of the species. The sacrifice of some worthless animals is necessary for humanity to reach its zenith. You would really hinder the entire human race for the preservation of lower life forms?”

“Wh - I -”

“You think that ‘preserving the ecosystem’ and ‘keeping animals alive’ makes you a good scientist, but it makes you weak. You are weak, Thomas Sanders, and if the world was left in the hands of people like you, the human race as we know it would die out in a few centuries. Fortunately, there are people like me, who understand what must be done.”

“Caring about other people and things - it doesn’t - it doesn’t make you weak,” Thomas says, chest heaving, and the woman just laughs.

“One of many logical fallacies to which you subscribe, Thomas. They really gave you a doctorate? Of course caring makes you weak. All emotions make you weak. They corrupt your data and make your experiments worthless. You must be ruthless. You must be willing to do whatever it takes to pursue your goals and achieve the height of success. But no.” She rolls her eyes, face hardening, twirling a pen in her fingers. “You insist on ethics and principles and letting emotions cloud your judgement, and that makes you a failure as a scientist. It makes you weak. Your attachments will be your downfall.”

Thomas’s eyes slide shut, head pounding, and the man behind him yanks at his hair so sharply that he knows some has been ripped out. He forces his eyes open in time to see a smile slide across the woman’s face like a knife, teeth gleaming white as sun-bleached bone.

“You won’t - get away with this,” Thomas manages. He grinds his teeth together and curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to keep himself awake. “If you leave me alive -” Thomas, stop talking, why are you reminding her that she has the option to fucking kill you “- I will not rest until I find you. I’ll - you can’t -”

“You’ll what, Thomas? If you call the police, you’ll expose those creatures you’re so intent on protecting to the world. Are you really willing to take that chance?” Before Thomas can even begin formulating a response, she steamrolls him. “It doesn’t matter. Even if you were, I’m going to take some . . . insurance, shall we say.”

“Why not just kill me?” Thomas spits. Excellent idea, Doc, poke the murderous lady with a stick like a god damn hornet’s nest, the tiny Virgil in his brain hisses. Her smile, somehow, only widens, and that’s . . . that can’t be good, can it? Smiles are supposed to be good! They’re supposed to make you happy, but all Thomas feels is creeping dread and pain, so much pain, and -

Yeah. He’s . . . pretty sure he has a concussion.

“Because if I kill you, you get to take the easy way out. Your suffering will end. But unlike you, I don’t put limits on my science. I know how to cause you the maximum amount of pain.”

Thomas eyes the toxin gun, but the on-screen woman just laughs. “Not yet, Thomas. We need something from you, first.”

“You already took Roman,” Thomas says. “What more can you possibly take from me?”

“You named it? You’re even weaker than I thought.”

“He told me his name, he’s not an it, he’s not a thing for you to play with and - and I -”

There’s a strange sinking feeling in Thomas’s chest as the woman onscreen laughs. “I knew you were emotional, Thomas, but I can’t believe this! It looks like I’ll have more hanging over your head than you thought.”

“You -”

“Say, Tommy-boy, have you heard from your precious little assistant recently?”

Thomas’s entire body flushes ice-cold and then white-hot, immediately struggling against his duct tape bindings despite the man tearing at his hair and shoving the gun into his neck and snapping at him to shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up before I do something we’re both gonna regret -

“Don’t you touch him!” Thomas snaps. “If you hurt him, I swear to God -”

“You’re not in a position to be making demands, and if you don’t calm down, I’ll paint your boring little lab bright red.” Thomas freezes, holding his entire body tensed like electricity is running through his blood.

There are footsteps on the stairs. “Doc? I got your text, what’s -”

“Virgil, run!” Thomas chokes. Virgil comes around the corner, holding his phone, staring at the screen in confusion. He looks up, eyes widening in horror as he takes in the scene.

“You know what to do,” the woman onscreen says. The other woman lifts her tranquilizer gun, and Thomas is sure that he’s screaming, his mouth is open and sound is coming out but his blood is rushing through his ears and his heart is pounding like waves against a boat in rough sea and he can’t - he can’t -

Virgil turns to run, but the tranquilizer dart hits in him the back of the neck and he collapses like a sack of bricks. The woman lowers her gun and jerks her head at the two remaining conscious, unoccupied mercenaries, who step forward and grab Virgil.

“Let him go!” Thomas screams, and his throat feels raw and his chest feels raw and his wrists are rubbed raw and his soul feels hollow and raw, like he’s been scraped out with a jagged piece of metal and only an empty shell remains. Virgil’s head lolls against his chest as they drag him down the grotto tunnel, and Thomas struggles and screams and stares after them until Virgil is out of sight.

His face is damp, and his eyes are burning, and he isn’t sure if it’s blood from his head wound or tears or some strange, morbid mixture of both.

“The greatest torture of which I can conceive,” the woman onscreen says, and it takes him a moment to realize that oh, she’s talking to me, “is to leave you alive, knowing that your precious little protégé is with me, and that there is nothing you can do about it.” She leans forward, and any trace of a smile is gone. “If you try to come after me, I will kill him. If you call the authorities, I will kill him. I already found you, Thomas. Don’t think I’m not watching. If I catch so much as a whiff of you planning something, his blood will be on your hands. Do you understand me?”

Thomas, numb and shocked, can’t even respond. “Knock him out and bring the specimens back to me,” the woman onscreen says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t even feel the tranquilizer dart hit his neck, but he welcomes the sweeping darkness.

(Summary: Evil Scientist Lady has been spying on Thomas and she finds the entrance to the grotto where our mer friends have been hiding. She sends her assistant and several armed thugs to invade the lab, they drug Roman with tranquilizers and kidnap him. Thomas gets knocked around a lot and is mocked for being an ethical scientist and caring about people by Evil Scientist Lady and she gloats at him through Evil Facetime before kidnapping Virgil in the same way they did Roman, knocking Thomas unconscious, and leaving him tied to his lab chair. During this whole scene, Patton is out in the open ocean hunting and Logan is safely hidden in Virgil's room.)

#starshinewrites #lovely dark and deep #romantic analogical #sanders sides #platonic TLAMP

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five-rivers · 3 years

Note

What if Danny's ghost form reflected his ghost maturity instead of his human maturity? Halfas are different, especially without being in the ghost zone to speed it up, it must take a lot of energy to develop. (I bet he'd almost never use it if he turned into a toddler when he went ghost)

This is probably going to be more angsty than you wanted, but...

When a ghost forms from a death, they generally look about the same as they did when they died and change from there. No messy second childhoods required.

Other methods of forming a ghost, however...

Well. Danny didn’t exactly die, and a ghost started from scratch needs time to mature. Especially if they’re building off of a human blueprint.

Danny doesn’t realize he didn’t just get ghost powers until over nine months later.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Danny, squinting up at Frostbite, who was his friend and therefore not likely to be pulling his leg. At least not about something as serious as this. “Are you trying to tell me that I’ve been, what, pregnant with myself for the last nine months?”

“An apt analogy!” said Frostbite, who apparently did not have enough knowledge of human culture to understand why that statement and all its implications were horrifying. “Of course, you are not giving birth to another individual. Instead, your other half is maturing.”

“Is there any way to, uh, stop it?” asked Danny, nervously plucking at the paper on the examination table. “Because I really, really can’t be randomly turning into a ghost baby for however long this maturation thing is supposed to last.”

Frostbite looked like Danny had just suggested he murder someone. “Great One,” he said grimly, “you do not know what you ask.” He knelt next to Danny, and still wasn’t quite short enough to look him in the eye. “What you’re asking...” His voice was soft. “To snuff out a ghost that young... Not to mention what it would do to you as a whole.”

Danny laughed. Stupid anxiety reaction. “It-It wouldn’t kill me, though, right?”

“I do not know,” admitted Frostbite. “But it would certainly remove your powers. Your other half is their source.”

“Right,” said Danny. “Okay. I sort of expected that. So, what do I do?”

“I would suggest,” said Frostbite, “staying here until your ghost half is at least as old as you are now. For safety reasons.”

“How long do you think that will take?” asked Danny.

Frostbite’s grin became rather fixed. “Fourteen years, or thereabouts,” he said.

“Frostbite,” said Danny, aghast. “I can’t wait fourteen years.”

“It’s possible that being in the Ghost Zone may accelerate the process somewhat, as compared to staying in the human world. The high-ectoplasm environment is more nurturing.”

“How much faster are we talking about?” demanded Danny.

“I would need to run more tests to be certain,” said Frostbite. “And compare the ectoplasm concentration of your home to the one here. It is unfortunate, but there are no ghosts quite like you.”

Danny groaned. “Thanks,” he said. “But I can’t stay. Not even for a week. I have responsibilities. What should I do to just... I don’t know. Manage this? Keep myself from turning into a ghost baby in the middle of the day, or during a fight?”

Frostbite looked intensely uncomfortable. “I am unsure. You are still intending to fight?”

“Yeah?” said Danny. “I kind of have to.”

“Don’t let the ghosts you fight see you in your other form.”

Duh, thought Danny. “I don’t have a death wish,” he said instead.

“They are extremely unlikely to try to destroy you. It is much more likely that any adult ghost that saw you would adopt you. And you wouldn’t have the ability to resist.”

“As soon as I got back to my proper age, I could,” said Danny.

“That’s another thing I am concerned about,” said Frostbite. “You have several ghostly mental tendencies already.” He tapped Danny’s forehead with an icy claw. “I am unsure how much more your other half will influence this one. Clinging to an older ghost is instinctual for infant ghosts. Which your other half is.”

Danny closed his eyes, centering himself. “Okay,” he said. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Mh, yes. Great One, when was the last time you measured your height?”

“You don’t think I’m aging?”

Frostbite attempted to explain.

“You don’t think I’m going to age until I catch up?”

Danny flew the Spector Speeder away from the Far Frozen, laden with various health instructions and several gifts the yetis said infant ghosts tended to enjoy. He was okay. This was fine. He’d fought things just shy of godhood with glitchy invisibility, unreliable phasing, lackluster hovering, a magic soup can, and whatever of his parents’ inventions happened to be working that week. What was one more?

Too much.

He briefly let his head rest on the steering wheel.

Apparently, even this respite was too much for the universe to give him, because the Poltergeist Proximity Alarm started to blare. He jerked his head up.

Somehow, in his second of inattentiveness, he’d been surrounded. By eyeball ghosts.

Maaaaybe he’d just drifted into their meeting, and they’d let him drift back out?

The ghosts raised their hands, each one glowing ominously.

Yeah. He didn’t think so, either. He hit the accelerator and-

Time shuddered.

He was suddenly very much not in the Spector Speeder, and still surrounded. How-?

Several of the eyeball ghosts touched him, and his skin pulsed with pain as ectoenergy was forced through it. He gasped, then choked as white rings sprang up around his waist. Not now! Not already!

He couldn’t stop it. He was too full of energy.

Just like every time before, his mind went fuzzy as it adapted to radically different sensory inputs.

“... should keep him in ghost form until it catches up to his human age,” said one of them, as he came back to himself. “At least.”

“We’ll need a longer-term solution than simply feeding him too much power to stay human,” said another.

“Clockwork will have something,” said a... a third? Danny wasn’t sure. They all sounded the same, and Danny’s field vision was limited from the... basked? Yeah, it was a basket.

Who was Clockwork?

“Regardless, we must ensure he is raised correctly,” said one of the ghosts, putting a delicate emphasis on the last word. “Teach him respect and obedience.”

The others voiced their agreement.

Danny didn’t like the sound of that. He reached for his human half, just as a clawed green hand reached into the basket. Energy flushed through him again, and the warmth of his human half fluttered out of his grasp.

The clawed hand then pulled a blanket over him, tucking him in. And... actually... he was pretty worn out by everything... ectoenergy took time to process properly for a body as tiny as his currently was... it would be okay if he... fell asleep...

Right?

#danny phantom #ask #answer #prompt #prompt fill #ominous adoption #several timeline alterations bc of danny not having a ghost form #for the first several months #dark-ish ending #baby ghost half au

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma.

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you.

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why? Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter.

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager! You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar - just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?”

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg, look what you made me do. ;)

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #javi x you #javi x reader #reader insert #angst #hurt/comfort #slowburn #friends to lovers #the rules of engagement #better love #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

#my writing #Dolls' Eyes #MCU #Avengers: Endgame #Peggy Carter #Brunnhilde #Carol Danvers #Valkyrie #Captain Marvel #Steve Rogers #Nick Fury

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Callisto (Part Six - Rescue Site)

This fic seems to be taking forever, but I hope it isn’t reading that way. I had so much fun over the weekend and I still have some fun ahead of me writing one of the core scenes I had planned. I hope you are enjoying reading this.

As always, many thanks to the amazing @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 @janetm74 and @vegetacide as well for all the read throughs and support. Wonderful science officer @onereyofstarlight this bit has one of the places we talked about extensively and wouldn’t exist without your help :D

Again, thank you to all the wonderful peeps who have been reading along and commenting despite the once a week posting schedule. You help keep my enthusiasm alive and you have no idea how much I appreciate every word of encouragement ::hugs you all::

Have a Tracy boy or two on the job :D

-o-o-o-

Scott rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch out the tension that was slowly giving him a headache.

At least now they were moving. This rescue felt like it was taking forever.

Hell, it was the same with most space recues, if even more with this one. The distances involved just went on and on and no matter how fast the Thunderbird, it was slow.

It rankled Scott just a little. The fact that the environment could not be influenced by his impatience.

And Dad…

He shunted the thought aside. Perhaps that was why he scorned the time needed. It gave him far too much time to think.

The tunnel stretched out before him as it had for some time now. The life signs were nearly seven hundred kilometres away from Callisto Base. Usually, this was not a problem. There wasn’t a Thunderbird that couldn’t cover that distance in a short period of time. Even Four could do it at velocities no other underwater craft had ever managed.

But this location was at least two kilometres underground, and while the molepod was always an option, Virgil had vetoed it with the option of travelling via dragonfly through the tunnels. Scott had to agree. They needed far more information before barrelling into an unknown situation, not to mention the difficulties of deploying the molepod in these conditions.

But by this point he was almost ready to jump out and blast a hole in the damned moon to get where they needed to go.

Time. So much damned time.

Too much to think.

His hands shifted on the Dragonfly’s controls spinning her into a dive as the tunnel dipped suddenly. The brilliance of the pod’s forward lights lit up the never-ending cave as clear as daylight.

It sparkled back at him in sharp, stabbing needle-like reflections off the walls that did nothing to improve his headache. He had already set his helmet to shade to protect himself. It was ridiculous to be needing sunglasses this far underground.

Behind him, Virgil was following him at a short distance in Dragonfly Two, his lights just bright enough to light up the red of Scott’s pod.

For some irrational reason Scott wanted his pod to be blue.

The blue of the sky he was currently missing.

He sighed.

Again, too much time to think.

“Another five hundred metres.” Alan’s voice from behind him was the reassurance it always was. Why he felt comforted when his littlest brother was nearby and within reach was something he did not want to examine too much.

A twist of his wrists as the tunnel backed around on itself in a hairpin of a turn and he had to dodge another nest of those weird deformed ice stalactite formations sticking out into their path. “What are we looking at?”

“Looks like another cavern. A big one.”

They had flown through several of those enormous caverns on the way out here already. They acted like junctions, some having multiple tunnels converging on them, every single one a home for more ice formations and that damned reflective rock. It had taken John to get them out of the last one. This place was a damned maze.

Virgil had fortunately come prepared, as always. He was leaving a trail of comms-support beacons behind them as a clear path to return to Callisto Base.

Scott fought the urge to duck as the tunnel suddenly shrunk by several metres and took another swerving turn. Scott spun the pod over one-eighty degrees on her longitudinal axis as her wings nearly scraped the ceiling.

Righting them finally, he couldn’t help but check his monitor to make sure Virgil took the turn safely.

He almost smiled as the green pod behind them flipped in a manoeuvre that no doubt had Gordon yelping in the back seat. He couldn’t help but be proud for just a self-indulgent moment.

But his attention was torn away as his pod suddenly shot into a large open space and the light reflecting off the walls suddenly blinded him.

Alan’s gasp behind him only echoed his own.

Their forward lights were being shot at them in blinding brilliance off the ceiling of the new cave.

That brightness only increased as Virgil’s pod spun into a hover beside them.

Oh god.

Whatever had been in the walls of the tunnels was obviously concentrated here.

He redirected the lamps away from the ceiling only to have the brilliance follow them all the way down the closest wall until he was able to turn the pod towards the most distant wall.

Crystal.

There was crystal everywhere.

The cave walls were covered in spikes of the stuff as it they were inside a giant geode. He had to acknowledge that it was stunningly amazing when it wasn’t ripping his eyeballs out.

But that wasn’t what took his breath away.

As their lamps lowered, they caught the edges of something else.

He turned the lights down towards the floor only to discover he couldn’t see it.

Because it was covered in water.

Fluid, liquid water, the dragonflies causing the faintest of ripples to dance across its surface.

A lake.

Scott’s jaw dropped as he tipped the pod to peer down into the dark water only to have more crystal attempt to stab him in the eye from the depths.

“What the hell?”

Water wasn’t supposed to be able to exist in this environment. He poked at his scanners. Atmospheric levels were the same, ever so thin, providing little to no air pressure or heat to keep the water in this state.

“John? What am I seeing?”

Thunderbird Five did not answer immediately, but the data transmission rate on comms doubled as his space brother reached his fingers into the cave through the pod’s sensors.

“Impossible.”

“That was my thought. Virgil?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Scientific explanation? Gordon?”

“You got me here, bro. But I’m more concerned about those lifesigns.”

Scott frowned and double checked his readout. The two dots registered, glowing strongly at him.

From under the water.

-o-o-o-

Virgil frowned as Scott spun his dragonfly around and returned to the entrance of the cavern. His forward lights lit up only what could be considered a beach where the original tunnel swooped in and connected with the crystal cave. At the base there was only a few scattered crystal formations and Virgil watched as his brother expertly put down without touching a single one.

“Are we going to take a look at the lake?”

Typical. Nearby water body and his fish brother wanted in it.

But Virgil needed more reconnaissance.

And if he was honest with himself, there was just a dash of sightseeing involved. Not much, because of the urgency of the mission, but enough curiosity to send him off on a scout around the cavern.

Crystals that had to be the length of an arm or a leg stuck out from the walls in haphazard directions. Most reflected back clear, but in streaks, as if seeping up a localised mineral, there were ribbons of colour in places – reds, greys, golds, pinks. His scanners spat back that it was simply quartz, silicon dioxide, but he had never seen a formation like this.

Which was understandable as this was an alien landscape with vastly different environs to those of Earth. The artist in him was literally stunned, while the scientist valiantly fought for a reason.

He swooped around the edges of the cavern, his lamps lighting up brilliance as he went. The cave proved to be roughly circular, approximately four hundred metres in diameter and about a hundred metres high. He came across two more tunnels leading off it, but all were as dry as the one they had used to enter the cave. Towards the centre, but not quite, the ceiling arched down and what appeared to be a stalactite met a stalagmite to form a column of swirling crystal that looked like something straight out of an art glass exhibition. The ribbons of colour were here too, but this time mostly in a rose pink and a startling blue.

Virgil didn’t have words.

The light playing among the crystals just touched every artistic sense he had and froze them solid.

But there was a mission and those two glowing red dots glared at him from beneath the surface of the lake.

He ran scans of the water. For it was water, mostly, though, certainly not any he would want to drink.

For one thing it was salty, a definite brine solution with a number of minerals including silica in concentrations that defied as much logic as the water’s existence did in the first place.

The difficulty was that the lifesigns weren’t clear. They were in the water, but resolution faded at a very shallow depth and there was a lot of deep depth in places.

“John, can you get any more resolution on these scans? I can’t pinpoint the lifesigns.”

There was a muttered curse on comms that had Virgil arching an eyebrow. “No, I’m sorry, Virgil. Interference is particularly strong in that cavern. We’re working on it, but I don’t have any great hopes.”

“What about a probe? Would that improve the signal?” Virgil blinked as his headache suddenly flared. Ow. Damn. The controls in front of him blurred a moment. Shit!

But then everything righted itself, just leaving an echo of the pain in his head as the headache droned on as it had before.

Maybe his painkillers were wearing off. A glance at the time proved that was far from the case.

He dreaded to think what that would have felt like without them.

“Virg?”

“What?!” Okay, so he was abrupt, but he was busy.

“Hey, hey, calm down. You didn’t answer John. Just checking on you.”

“Virgil, you there?” John’s voice dripped concern.

Shit.

“Sorry. Just got a headache. Need some sleep.”

“I feel you, bro. Want me to pilot?”

“No. No. I’m fine.” He swallowed bile and mentally shook himself. “John, you were saying?”

He could feel Gordon’s eyes on the back of his neck.

“Probe deployed. Target is Burr Crater, which you are directly under at the moment.”

Virgil’s display reported the probe entering Callisto’s atmosphere. He hoped it would give them enough information to act.

Time was ticking.

He spun the pod around and tried to ignore the rainbow of light that was his forward lamps. The flicker, while beautiful, was doing nothing good for his headache at all.

“You sure you’re okay, Virg?”

He pressed his lips together and considered ignoring the question from Gordon. But he knew if he did, his brother would only worry more.

It was a Tracy trait.

“Let’s just get this mission done. We have people who need saving.”

Gordon’s grunt wasn’t a happy one and the chances of Scott being called in on his headache were increasing by the moment.

“I’m fine, Gordon.” He cut the conversation off by dropping the pod rapidly towards the beach where Scott had climbed out and was walking to the water’s edge. Another spin mid-air and Virgil lowered into a rather delicate landing, keeping the pod’s feet away from the crystal formations sticking out of the rock.

Virgil swallowed again before climbing out of the pod. His boots hit solid but glittering rock, damp in the darkness.

Scott and Alan were standing at the water’s edge staring out at the spectacle that the pod lights lit up.

Gordon clambered out behind Virgil and together they both walked over to stand beside their brothers.

“This is so cool!” Alan was obviously excited.

He said it on external comms and the sound travelled across the cavern only to bounce back in so many perfect ‘ool’s Virgil’s eyes widened.

On the spur of that, as the ‘ool’s slowly faded away, he activated his own external comm and sung a single pure C note.

It came back at him from so many different directions it was like a chorus.

“Oh, wow.”

‘Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow…’ It went on, the faint atmosphere sporting just enough density to carry the sound waves.

“That is something, isn’t it?” Scott’s voice was quiet. “The dragonflies made one hell of a racket. We’re going to have to be careful. Wouldn’t want to set up a harmonic that could bring the roof down on us.”

Virgil was still processing. The thought of playing his piano in this cave was just mind boggling.

“Dad says the Base scientists are having some kind of scientific fit over this place.” A grunt. “I’m more concerned about those two lifesigns.” He paused. “John, any luck with the probe?”

“Unfortunately, no. The interference is just too thick. I can read the water, but very little in it or below it. I’ll keep trying.”

Scott sighed. “Keep us updated. Looks like this will have to be more hands on.” He turned to Gordon. “We need Thunderbird Four.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #callisto

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frizz22 · 3 years

Text

Growing Up Spellman Ch 2

Read on ao3

Note: Sabrina is 3, Morgan 7. Sorry for the extreme delay between chapters 😬

Zelda placed the potion in front of Diana, who eyed it skeptically and unconsciously lifted a hand to tug a strand of her hair.

“You sure you fixed it?” She asked, carefully taking the flask but not drinking it.

Unable to blame the woman’s hesitance, Zelda smiled reassuringly. “Yes, it was just a few tweaks with the ingredients. Perfectly fine, now.”

They’d been experimenting with potions to prolong Diana’s life and the last one happened to turn her lovely blonde hair an interesting shade of magenta—much to Diana’s horror and Morgan and Ambrose’s amusement.

Beyond that, though, the potion appeared to work and had no other side effects, so Zelda felt confident this potion would allow them to extend Diana’s life... hopefully without the unwanted makeover.

Though it seemed a promising answer, Hell knew how long it’d be effective. It was entirely possible Diana would develop some kind of tolerance to the potion and they’d soon be back in square one.

But this bought them time, quite literally, and Zelda intended to use that time find alternatives; her sister would not die prematurely and leave sweet Sabrina without a mother. Not if their family had anything to say about it.

She knew, even now, that Ambrose was in the basement researching additional ways to save Diana. Perhaps Lilith would have some ideas as well, might as well tap into that deep well of knowledge. Making a note to speak with the witch the next time she visited, which was becoming more frequent, Zelda’s inner musings were interrupted by Diana sighing.

“Well, here’s to hoping.” She attempted a smile, then plugged her nose and threw back the contents of the flask. “Hell,” she gasped, shuddering lightly. “Is there anything we can do about the taste?”

Smirking, Zelda took the flask back and walked it over to the sink, not missing how Diana replaced Heaven with Hell in her vocabulary. They were rubbing off on her. Refocusing, Zelda rinsed the flask. “Perhaps, that would be more Hilda’s expertise than mine. We can certainly try, the good news is, your hair is still the same color.” She nodded at Diana’s head.

Hand flying up to grasp a section of hair and bring it into view, Diana exhaled in relief. At Zelda’s raised brow, the woman shrugged and released her hair. “You know I trust you, Zelda, but after last time I was a little wary.”

A small chuckle escaping her, Zelda dried the flask then her hands. “Understandable,” she conceded, “it seems that for now we’ve accomplished our goal. Let’s go tell Hilda the good news.”

Happily sliding off the kitchen stool where she’d been perched, Diana led the way out to the garden where Hilda had the girls. While her sister was busy harvesting tomatoes, Morgan and Sabrina were kneeling in the dirt, a small basket of seeds between them.

It was only as they neared the two, that Zelda overheard Mo lecturing her little cousin on the properties of sunflowers, how to plant them, and the many things they were used for in both mortal and witching realms. Zelda smiled, Hilda would be proud of how well Morgan paid attention to her herbology lessons, and though Sabrina looked on with rapt attention, Zelda couldn’t help but notice that every time Mo looked away, Sabrina stuffed sunflower seeds into her mouth, chewing quickly to try and hide her transgression.

Sharing a smile with Diana, Zelda caught the girls’ attention. “How many sunflowers have you managed to plant for Aunt Hilda today?”

Her words had both turning, Sabrina with her cheeks still full of seeds, making Morgan frown at her disapprovingly. “‘Brina,” she admonished, taking the seeds from her cousin’s hand, “these ones aren’t for eating, Auntie Hilda set those aside already.” Nodding in agreement, Sabrina promptly snatched another handful from the basket and stuffed it in her mouth, much to Morgan’s chagrin. “Mama!” Morgan exclaimed, looking to them for help. “‘Brina keeps eating the seeds Auntie Hilda wants us to plant!”

Careful to smother her smile, Zelda lowered herself to the ground, Diana next to her. “Is that so?” She asked, reaching over and popping a few seeds into her mouth as well.

Caught between indignation and amusement, Morgan threw up her hands. “Mama!” She exclaimed.

“Morgan.” Zelda teased, tugging her girl into her lap and dropping kisses all over her head and face, making Morgan giggle and squirm though she made no real attempt to escape. “Sabrina can eat a few seeds,” Zelda soothed, brushing Mo’s wild curls away from her newly flushed face. “Though we don’t want to be ruining our appetite for dinner, do we?” She arched a brow as Sabrina reached for more.

Giggling, Sabrina fell into Diana’s lap without taking any more seeds. “No, Auntie Zee.” She chirped, playing with one of Diana’s bracelets, already distracted.

Arms wrapping around Morgan, who really was getting a little too big to be sitting in her lap—not that Zelda would ever have the heart to tell her girl such a thing—Zelda cocked her head. “I see you’re learning quite a bit from your Aunt Hilda.” She noted, just as her sister came to join them, basket full of tomatoes slung on her arm.

Only having caught her name, Hilda cocked her head. “What’s that, Zelds?” She asked, sitting as well and wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

Beaming, Morgan leaned against Zelda. “Mama said I’m learning a lot from you,” she stated proudly. “I was trying to teach ‘Brina, but she kept eating the lesson.” She peered at Sabrina and shook her head, but the little girl just burst into giggles making Morgan lose her sternness and grin.

A soft smile curling her lips, Hilda reached over and cupped Morgan’s cheek. “I’m so glad you are learning a lot, sweetheart. Maybe next time Cee is over you can teach him a thing or two.” Her sister reached over and playfully tweaked Morgan’s nose.

Laughing, Morgan snuggled closer to Zelda. “Is he coming over soon? He promised to bring another book.”

“Morgan,” Zelda chastised softly, “Cerberus doesn’t come around solely to bring you things.”

Lips pouting just a tad, Morgan shifted to look at her. “I know, mama, but this next book is about ghouls, and he said we could read it together.”

Practically melting, Hilda interjected. “So, you want to spend time with Cee? Is that it, Mo?”

Morgan settled back against Zelda and nodded. “Uh huh, he’s nice and funny. And he makes you smile and laugh a lot too, Auntie Hilda.” She observed, playing with the ends of Zelda's hair as she spoke.

Examining her nails, Diana coughed pointedly. “He certainly does.”

Her lips twitching up at the comment, Zelda shared a knowing look with Diana over their daughters’ heads, both suppressing further amusement when they made eye contact. Despite her anxiety when Hilda first expressed interest in the odd mortal, Diana helped her come to terms with the potential relationship. And when the two truly started dating, Zelda went to Diana often for advice on how best to deal with it, how to interact with Cerberus before he knew the truth, and then after he knew as well. While a small part of Zelda still wanted her sister to date a witch or warlock, if only because their lifespans matched, she didn’t want to scare this Cerberus away… not when he really did make Hilda so happy.

Their attention was recaptured when Hilda playfully swatted at Diana and gave Zelda a ‘stern’ glare. “Cee does make me happy, darling, you’re very astute.”

Brow wrinkling, Morgan looked up at Zelda. “Astute means observant, my little demon.” Zelda informed her daughter before the girl could even voice the question.

“Ahh, yes, it’s very important for demons to be astute.” A voice sounded behind them, startling them as they whipped around to find the source.

Ambrose gestured to the witch walking next to him. “Look who appeared in the basement.” He remarked, bending over to swoop Sabrina up into the air when she barreled at him. “Thought I would escort her out here.”

Popping up as well, Morgan grinned widely. “Lilith!” She exclaimed, hurrying forward and hugging the witch hard. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The witch returned the hug in kind and pressed a quick, soft kiss to the top of Morgan’s head—something Zelda noted Lilith had only started doing recently—and smiled. “Well, your mama told me today was another experiment day, I was curious about how it went.” She eyeballed Diana. “Unless you haven’t done it yet?” Her eyes glanced, not so subtly, at the woman’s head.

A blush gracing her cheeks, Diana patted her hair. “Actually, we have, kept my normal hair color this time, so progress.”

Gently disengaging from Morgan—who ran to jump on Ambrose as well, leaving the adults alone— Lilith joined them on the ground. “Well, while magenta isn’t really anyone’s color, dear, you managed to pull it off remarkably well.”

Scoffing in good-natured disbelief, Diana rolled her eyes. “Liar.” She intoned, amusement infusing her words. “But I appreciate it, nonetheless. No, I think Zelda and Hilda might have truly cracked it this time... can, can you sense anything different?” Diana peered up at the Demoness, fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

“If anyone can overcome the aging process of mortals, it would be the witches who outwitted and out-brawned the Dark Lord himself.” Her hand landed on Zelda’s shoulder in an act of solidarity, but the innocent gesture had tingles erupting in its wake as Lilith removed her hand and Zelda had to make a conscious effort to keep from leaning into the retreating touch.

She snapped back to attention when a now comforted Diana nodded. “Thank you, Lilith, I know you’re right. I’m in the best hands.” She smiled at Zelda and Hilda, eyes shining a bit. Clearing her throat, Diana turned—each of them following suit—to where Ambrose was playing leapfrog with the girls—Sabrina landing on top of him and Morgan more often than jumping over them.

The women chuckled at the sight, the small amount of anxious energy filling the air at the topic of Diana’s mortality dissipating as they watched the kids play.

Hilda broke the silence first, brushing off her dress as she stood. “Shall we head in for some tea? You have time to stay, right, Lilith?” She asked, automatically reaching down to help Diana.

Inclining her head, Lilith leveraged herself up as well. “Of course, I need to hear more of this potion you’ve allegedly perfected.” She offered a hand to Zelda, which she took with some surprise. “Besides,” she helped Zelda to her feet and smiled when their eyes drew level. “I do enjoy my time with the Spellman clan.” Her brow arched as she released Zelda’s hand and took a step toward the house.

Before Zelda could process the implications of that statement and all the physical contact, Ambrose and the girls joined them, having quit their game when they noticed everyone moving inside.

As they made their way to the porch, Morgan instantly fell into step between Zelda and Lilith, taking one of their hands in each of her own and walking happily between them.

Though touched by her daughter’s sweet behavior, Zelda glanced at Lilith to ensure she was okay—Morgan often expressed more affection than the witch was comfortable with, even with Lilith becoming more open to it—only to find the Demoness smiling softly at her daughter.

And, as if sensing Zelda’s gaze, Lilith brought her eyes up, expression now carefully blank except a minute hint of panic in her eyes, worried she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Certain any type of fondness was considered weakness in Hell, Zelda smiled at the brunette, wanting her to know her treatment of Morgan was not only okay, but encouraged. It would devastate Mo if Lilith were to withdraw because she thought her actions toward the girl would be used against her.

Clearly still unsure of herself, Lilith gave a wavering smile in return then dropped her eyes back to Morgan who had started to chatter away while the two witches had their silent conversation.

Refocusing back on her daughter, Zelda’s smile remained on her face as they followed the others inside and settled in the kitchen for tea and snacks.

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 121

Insert Winter Holiday is here, again!

I’m queuing this ahead of time, and I originally had a really cute message about the end of the year. Then, I realized what year this is and said “Yeah, nope. Not jinxing it, will not have the actual end of the world be my fault.”

I am going to leave it at this: thank you to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog for all your help with this story in 2020. Thank you to every single one of you who bombed by notes this year when you found The Miys. Thank you @janeshadow for talking me into getting off my rump and making the story easier to navigate.

Standing to my feet after putting the last dish in the oven, I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around my quarters. Despite the fact that we had forgone a tree this year for Insert Winter Holiday, there was a definite festive feeling as everyone packed themselves in as much as possible. Derek had clearly found my lights again, as they circled every public space in my quarters, including the kitchen. Furniture was pushed as far against the walls as possible, and everyone had been advised to bring their own cushion to sit on.

In the two celebrations since waking up on the Ark, dinner and gifts had largely been a smaller, more typical dinner-style affair. However, without my noticing, my family had grown exponentially since then, and this year finger foods passed from hand to hand as everyone relaxed and chatted. Charly, Tyche, and I took turns in the kitchen, with Hannah waving us all three to sit while she checked on something in the oven so that we could rest and enjoy ourselves, too.

“Where’s Derek?” Charly asked as she approached me to take her shift watching the last batch of food bake.

“He isn’t great with crowds, so he and Sam already came for lunch and to exchange gifts,” I explained, stroking the scarf they had given me. “They already left and took Mac with them.”

“Aww, they’re hogging the Christmas Cat… No fair!” she pouted comically.

“Eh, Mac’s not a fan of crowds either. Besides, I’m pretty sure someone gave him cheese - again - so I’d rather the little gas bomb not be here tonight.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed before popping me with a tea towel. “Go! Your turn to socialize and cuddle!”

I held up my hands in defeat before carefully picking my way around people. Coffey was gracious enough to take my hand and guide me around him and over to where Conor and Maverick were guarding the astonishingly huge pile of gifts. Arthur was nearby, arguing with Conor and trying to drag Simon into it every chance he could. The topic sounded like a rehash of the one regarding fortifications, only this time it was Fortification Redux: The Plant Edition. “We’ve already confirmed there are no megafauna on Von!” Arthur exclaimed wearily. “Not even vegetarians. Why would we need fortifications?”

I could tell Conor was just provoking him when he lazily waved a hand. “It’s psychological, to make people feel safe. Besides, agriculturally, it serves as double duty.”

“He has a point,” Simon conceded, wincing when Arthur turned a playful squint his direction. “He does!”

“Whatever,” Arthur surrendered with a mock-sulk. “Sophia…”

“You know where I stand on this argument, don’t even try it,” I laughed as I dropped in between my partners.

“You wound me! I was going to offer to whip up some goulash, but now I don’t think I will since someone thinks she should accuse me of such atrocious crimes.”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Whip up whatever you want, I’m done with kitchen duty, and so is Tyche. Charly’s on her last lap.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Maverick laughed, catching Coffey’s careful eye on his beloved bundle of energy.

Arthur practically leapt to his feet. “That decides it. I am so offended by Sophia’s accusations that I am going to share the kitchen with Miss Chaos Incarnate and leave you all to wonder what wound up in the food.”

Tyche tipped her head back to scowl at him from where she was draped across Antoine’s lap. “If I find a single eyeball…”

Muttering something suspiciously close to “Dammit”, Arthur prowled across the room as though the entire floor wasn’t draped in legs and people.

I opened my mouth to whine about how he could do that, only to be cut off when a piece of pastry was stuffed in my mouth. Grievances forgotten, my eyebrows shot up as I chewed. “Tyche! When did you make donuts!?”

“It may have involved time travel,” she waggled her fingers at me. “But no blood magic or ritual sacrifices, swear.”

I could see Antoine shake his head before responding over his shoulder. “She made them this morning.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Travelling forward through time is still time travel, mon coeur.” He tapped the tip of her nose with one finger, eliciting an expression from her that promised swift and painful retribution.

A soft rustle of fabric caught my attention, and I turned to see a pile of purple and jade-green silk land beside me before a long, dark braid came into view. “The donuts are quite delightful,” Parvati declared as she yanked Xiomara down beside her in a graceless heap. Grabbing a dark brown one from the plate, she popped it in her lover’s mouth just as Xiomara was about to complain. “That one is a Black Forest, I believe. You’ll love it.”

“Careful on those,” Conor warned. “I think they’re half booze.”

“I only soaked the cherries in kirsch,” Tyche corrected. “Not the whole thing.”

“So yeah, half booze,” I corrected.

Giving her most fearsome scowl, Xio snatched the rest of the Black Forest donuts off the plate and balanced them in one hand.

A squeal of laughter interrupted our shenanigans, and we whipped our heads around in time to see Hannah holding a plate of mini-Wellingtons over her head without even looking, while Charly struggled to get up from where she was sprawled across both the other woman’s lap and Coffey’s. Zach stared at Hannah like he just saw his first sunset, and Maverick snorted behind me.

“He is such a goner over her,” I heard him say, followed by a light smack.

“Because I have certainly never seen you look at Conor or Sophia in such a way,” Parvati added lightly. “And obviously not when Conor is baby-talking to the plants around the ship, or when Sophia is so busy working she will eat whatever is handed to her.”

He buried his face in the back of my hair before squeaking. “Nope. Never!”

I twisted around so I could see them both. “Wait. When did this happen?”

“Three times a week, in your office,” Tyche interjected in a bored tone. “And pretty religiously.”

I felt my face heat up. “Does everyone know about this except me.”

Xiomara nodded furiously, cheeks plumped out and a suspicious number of donuts missing from the pile in her hand. Parvati shook her head at the antics and smiled gently. “Someone needs to make sure you eat… He brings you gyoza, and you don’t even notice. It’s quite adorable.”

Conor laughed. “She’s got you there, love.”

Eyes flashed as four heads snapped around to him. “Oh, don’t think you’re off the hook, mister!” Charly scolded at him. “He does the same thing to you. Those little pasties you like so much, with the potato and onion.”

Maverick groaned his embarrassment into my shoulder, while Conor’s smile faltered. “I would remember that,” he insisted.

“Not even once,” Charly confirmed.

Rather than being embarrassed, Conor just laughed again and reached to drag us both over to him. “I don’t know how someone so tall can be so sneaky, but I won’t argue.”

That moment was when Arthur decided to return, a trail of slurps in his wake as he handed out goulash. “No eyeballs,” he sighed dejectedly as he handed one to Tyche.

“You guys are no fun,” Charly muttered as she took her own bowl.

Poor Simon eyed the offering hesitantly. Arthur gently wiggled the bowl at him. “I promise, you’ll like it.”

Carefully, as though it would explode at any moment, Simon took the dish and managed a small bite. After a few seconds - presumably to confirm there was no trick - he chewed and immediately started bolting it down at a rapid pace. “I thought it would be spicier,” he admitted as he snaked a hand out to grab another.

“That would be the paprika. Really red, not really spicy.”

Maverick laughed as he took a bowl, but poked it with his fork before wrinkling his nose. “Sorry, Arthur, not happening.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than Simon’s hand darted out again, eliciting laughter from everyone.

Arthur shrugged, well aware of Maverick’s food aversions by this point. “It’s not for everyone. You keep your tofu, I’ll keep my goulash.”

Not long after that, the last of the food was gone and dishes were cleared. Hot drinks were handed out by Zach and Conor, and then it was finally time to exchange gifts. Baked goods from Tyche made the rounds, along with beautiful accessories from Parvati, carefully curated books from Alistair, plants from Conor and Sam, and more.

At one point, Arthur was staring at his gift from Charly like it would bite him. “It’s… a pen?”

She nodded, producing a small jar of black ink from somewhere. “A fountain pen, with black India ink. I made them both myself.”

Arching an eyebrow, he brought the pen closer to examine the engravings. “An otter… with a sword?”

“With a saber,” she corrected. “I tried to make it look like yours, but do you know how hard you make it to get a good look at that thing!?”

“It’s literally on display in my office when I’m not practicing with it.”

“And how am I supposed to get in there when you aren’t? You booby-trapped the door!”

“Wonder why….” he mused with a small smile. “This is very intricate,” he finally admitted.

“Consider it an apology for the other ones.”

“Oh!” I realized. “Give me just a second, everyone.” Scrambling, and with nowhere near Arthur or Tyche’s grace, I managed to make it to our bedroom to grab an armful of boxes. Once I was back at the doorway, I peeked around the stack and smiled. “These are from Derek, with a little bit of help from Hannah.” Checking names, I distributed the boxes before making my way back to my spot.

“This is… It’s so soft!” Parvati exclaimed. “And the colors are beautiful!”

I smiled as I rubbed the scarf I wore. “He wanted to show his appreciation for how welcome he feels, even if he was overwhelmed at the idea of being here.”

Hannah nodded as she brushed her scarf against her cheek. “We worked on these for months, but I didn’t realize he found time to make one for me… All the colors and patterns are different for each person, by the way. They’re meant to show us how he thinks of us.”

Conor held up the green and orange fabric that his box revealed. “I love it, but I’m confused.”

She rolled her eyes, and tapped her own scarf. “This goldish-brown is my eyes, and this olive green are the clothes I usually wear.”

Coffey’s laughter rang through the room as he unfolded his to see a pattern like Neapolitan ice cream: Rich brown, bright pink, with white swirled throughout. “I think he nailed it.”

Antoine’s head tilted until it almost met his shoulder. “Our eyes… Every single scarf has the color of our eyes in it. That must have been so hard for him to do.” I could see what he meant - Derek did not look people in the eyes, as a rule.

“He wants us to know that he sees us, and that he likes that we see him,” Zach shrugged. When we all stared at him, he just blinked. “What? You don’t work with him as much as I do without figuring those things out.”

Without exception, everyone wrapped their gifts from Derek around themselves before the next set of gifts were handed out. “These are from me,” Arthur explained. “Hopefully I got it right.”

Like Alistair, Arthur had gifted everyone a book, but rather than a book that furthered a current interest, he had sought out historical insights into extremely niche topics for everyone. Some made pretty obvious sense - a book on the historical events leading to and the impacts of the Harlem Renaissance for me, a book on the evolution of law in various cultures for Xiomara - but some were far less obvious.

“A book on Roman law?” Charly asked, confused.

He reached over and tapped on the cover. “Specifically, this is about how much of Roman law was the result of litigation, with some pretty hysterical results. I think you’ll get a huge kick out of it.”

She cracked the book open to a random page and looked at it. “If you weren’t home when you were subpoenaed as a witness, you didn’t have to testify, but if you didn’t the person could stand outside your house and - “ she snorted before continuing in a fit of giggles. “Yell at you… for no more than three…. Three hours a day, three days a week - “ another snort “for up to a year!” She wiped a tear from her eye and surrendered to her giggles. “Oh that’s amazing! Thank you!”

Charly wasn’t the only one laughing. Even Xiomara was snickering. “That is an incredibly specific law.”

“Absurd laws are best laws,” he shrugged.

Eventually, all the gifts were distributed, but nobody was in a rush to leave. Instead, we lounged around, quietly catching up and talking about our plans for the upcoming ‘year’. At some point, Insert Winter Holiday had, unanimously and without fanfare, become the end of the year celebration on the Ark, even as far as the Council made plans. With that in mind, we were taking a chance to celebrate our continued survival for yet another cycle, and tried to look forward with optimism toward the next one.

I just let the feelings sink into me, enjoying the presence of the people who moved into my life. Had I been asked fifteen years ago where I saw myself in the future, ‘on a spaceship, as the last of the human race, about to colonize another world’ would have been nowhere on that list. But here I was, with a larger family than I had ever dreamed.

Despite all that we had been through, I couldn’t wait to see what the future would bring.

(A/N: Keep your eyes out for an announcement on New Year’s Eve!)

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #found family #original science fiction #learning to write #aliens #apocalypse #earth is space australia #learning to live #humans are space fae #humans are awesome #humans are strange #hfy

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