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slasherholic · 3 years

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Michael Myers x Doctor! Reader | The Check-Up

behold, a drabble that went on for 1500 words too long.

synopsis: you are a doctor at smith’s grove administering the patient’s monthly physical exams. your next patient is michael. sadly, there is no world where this ends pleasantly for you.

contains: gender-neutral reader, michael being a toying asshole and giving the reader a nasty scare.

The exam room is small and drab, too intimate a space for work to happen comfortably. Its walls are not thick enough to dampen the noise of shuffling feet and voices passing by outside, and occasionally, the strident yelling of an upset patient will cut above the murmur, making you drum your fingers against the steel countertop with a renewed fervor.

On your sheet, half way down the list, the name is printed innocuously there in blue ink:

M. Myers.

You take a deep breath in and let it out slowly; it does not calm your nerves. Since you relinquished your last patient, the unease has been twisting in your gut like you swallowed a whole eel. Now, it feels almost determined to come back up.

It’s only a physical, you reason. The guards will be right outside. He’ll be restrained.

And such things might have been a comfort, if only “M. Myers” was still just a name on a list with a gruesome reputation to precede him. You are not fortunate enough for that to be the case; you have worked with Myers before. You know what he is like.

Your eyes flit to the clock on the wall while your fingers tap tap tap away on the counter. The guards have been gone eight minutes now. Some patients make a fight out of it every time they are taken from their rooms, requiring transport around the sanitarium in wheelchairs fit with heavy leather straps. Not Myers. In all your time employed at Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, you have never heard of one such related incident involving Myers. He lets himself be escorted without a fuss.

The incidents only happen after he gets to where he’s going.

It is not another full minute before there is a knock at the door.

“I’m ready,” you say promptly. The handle twists to the side. The door opens.

Four guards bring him in, double the standard patient security detail.

They lead him to the exam table while you thumb through your drawer for his file. In the corner of your eye, you watch him sit. One guard produces a key ring. The guard squats. Shortly, you hear the resounding metal “click” of a lock turning into place.

“Alright,” the guard says, standing. “All’s good over here.” After some consideration, he adds, “Want us to stick around for this one?”

“No, but thank you,” you tell him, pulling out the file. “I trust you did your job.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The guards leave the room, one by one.

“Holler if he gives you any trouble,” the last guard states, closing the door behind him.

The silence in their stead is woeful and everything within it altogether too loud. The clock on the wall ticks. Your stool squeaks sharply when you sit upright. The open drawer screeches as you push it shut.

And you can hear him breathing.

Your heart should not be racing already but it is. You suppose it isn’t too late to call the guards back in, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter much; if Myers is determined to toy with you, he will. Their presence will not deter him.

Clipboard in hand, you swivel on your stool, and face him.

Myers sits atop the paper-sheeted table with an attentive posture. He wears his usual white patient’s garb, canvas pants and a cotton shirt, the latter too tight around the breadth of his shoulders. Short metal cuffs link his wrists closely to his waist. His ankle has been chained to the chipping grey tile; and, despite the elevation of the table, his feet touch the floor with ease.

Alarmingly, he is staring right back at you.

Ice-blue eyes consider you steadily. No hint of emotion occupies his face. The look is somehow effortless, and you are reminded of how a housecat might regard a person of mild interest, intrigued enough by the happenings to observe, but caring not to involve itself further—yet.

Your throat tightens. There have been times during these check-ups where Myers feigns detachment, pretending wholly as if he doesn’t care. Not today. Already, he is casually toying with you.

Your eyes fall to your clipboard as you stand from your stool, eager for an excuse to cast your gaze away from him.

“I’ll be administering a quick check up today,“ you say, depositing your pen in your breast pocket. “Weight, heart rate, blood pressure, nothing invasive.” It is all you can manage if you are to maintain some air of professionalism. Your voice has already begun to thin.

The physician’s scale rests against the wall beside the exam table, wholly too close to Myers for your liking. You feel his eyes following you across the room as you go and stand next to it. Adrenaline surges in your veins at the proximity.

“Stand here, please,” you say, eyes fixed on your clipboard, as though very much involved in your work, and very much not falling prey to your patient’s lingering stare.

For a beat of time that stretches on into discomfort, nothing happens. Michael’s breathing fills the room. You do not look up from your sheet. He doesn’t budge an inch in your periphery. It is as if you had not spoken at all, only imagined it. Perhaps he didn’t hear you. Perhaps he’s decided not to cooperate.

The instructions are almost past your lips a second time when Michael stands. His weight shifts fluidly onto his feet, almost soundlessly, were it not for the clank of his ankle restraint hitting the floor. The scale creaks as he steps on—the length of chain allows it, barely. Your breathing is far from measured now. While you slide the weights along the top of the scale you grip your clipboard tremendously tight.

It is a strange and terrible thing, you think, to exist next to a body that has taken so many lives. Would you lose your job if you were to obey the way your feet seem to want to charge as fast as you are able out of this room? Why, the situation doesn’t seem ethical; your higher-ups, the doctors, the psychologists, all know what dreadful acts Michael is capable of; are you seriously expected to treat this man as though he’s just the next patient on your sheet?

A series of terrible things occur to you all at once; If Michael wanted to, even in his chains, he could hurt you very easily. It is by the mere fact of the building surrounding him that he has not.

Contained in this place, to harm you is to tighten his own restraints. Michael knows this. He knows the keys to the castle must be attained through docility, or at least an act of it, which he is very good at faking. Whether he believes the game is eligible for a second round, now, with so much fresh blood on his hands, he is going to play. In fewer words; only by the grace of brick and cement are you allowed to exist within an arm’s length of this man, and still keep breathing.

On your sheet, you scribble a barely legible 210 lbs in the blank white space next to “patient weight”. In a retreating voice you ask Myers to please sit back down on the table. He decides instead to linger next to you first, broadening his chest with a few more steady breaths; after that, he sits.

The stethoscopes are stored in the stainless steel cabinets above your desk. You set down your clipboard as you dig for one, trying all the while not to think the unthinkable—you have to touch your patient now. You have to touch Michael.

Stethoscope in hand, eyes fixed to a point on the floor for the sake of your own sanity, you drag your stool across the room, its one stuck wheel screeching across the linoleum.

You settle your stool inches away from Myers and put on your best mask of doctorly calm.

“Looking good so far,” you say, not believing that Michael is actually paying attention to your words, only speaking because it seems the comfortable thing to do. “I need to listen to your heart next, so please, don’t move.”

Michael’s towering body doesn’t budge a muscle in response to your new proximity. He continues to breathe in and out, chest expanding beneath his too-tight shirt, and you can see the individual muscles of his torso rising and contracting, ribs filling out, pectorals broadening, their outline obvious beneath his meager layer of clothing.

You install the buds of your stethoscope in both ears and reach out with your dominant hand toward his chest, pressing the circular tool just above his heart.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. The pounding echoes in your skull. You can feel it beating up through his coiled muscle, throbbing so adamantly beneath your touch that you can see his pulse lifting your fingers up and down, up, down, a power which you try to ignore by filling your thoughts with numbers, counting the beats as your task demands.

Touching Michael is nearly unbearable by the fiftieth second. You withhold your heavy swallow as you shove away from him, wheeling back to the safety of the counter where your sheet rests, jotting in his results, which are incredible, but nothing short of expected—Michael has the resting heart rate of a trained athlete.

As you ink in his results in the empty box, it occurs to you that he must be getting some sort of pleasure out of this. Some carnal need of his is gratified by the symptoms of your unease—the miserable tension in your voice, the fact you cannot look him in the eye. Michael is devouring all of it.

You feel suddenly very faint as you reach again above the counter, this time taking a hand light from the cabinets. Two more empty boxes remain unfilled on your sheet; two more tests to administer. Half way done. You suppose that fact should help settle your nerves, but it doesn’t. Instead, a different angle on the matter takes form in your head; a whole half way in, and Myers is still pretending as if he’s only going to sit there and watch.

You leave your clipboard on the counter this time, because it can’t save you. To perform this next part you are going to have to bite the bullet and look Myers in the face.

Distressingly, his expression has not budged a bit. His cold eyes are still upon you.

Keeping your concern off your face seems a losing battle now. You know Michael can detect it in the tightness of your features as you roll your stool across the room, and perhaps you imagined the oh-so-faint dilation of his functioning pupil as you approached, and perhaps you didn’t.

“I just need you to follow this light for me.” You tell Michael, brandishing the hand light in front of you.

His eyes, or you suppose the one good one, survey the thin silver tool in your hand. Nothing on his face changes. He looks back up at you within three beats of your racing heart, apparently ready to comply.

Your thumb meets the little button on the side of the light and it illuminates a harsh circle on his pale cheek. A flick of your wrist aligns it with your target. Michael’s pupil contracts to a pin-point. He obliges your instructions, tracking the light as you move it left, then right, his reflexes behaving beautifully, flawlessly, in fact…

...and you are still contemplating the flawlessness of Michael’s pupillary reflexes when it occurs to you that he is no longer following the light. Instead, he is staring at your face.

You remember seeing tigers hunting on a nature show. You remember that head down, fixed-eyed look, a predator’s unbreakable concentration. That is how Myers is staring at you.

Terror rolls through you, gripping your heart in a cold fist. It makes you smaller and smaller until you feel like turning on your heel and sprinting for the door, away from this ruthless predator, because Myers is so obviously that.

“Follow the light, please.” You barely squeeze the words past your constricting vocal chords. Michael does not follow the light. He looks at you with that same deadly gaze, the darkness spreading to overtake his whole face.

You recoil from him like you’ve been shot.

His cuffed hand shoots out. Chain links rattle as he seizes your elbow. A gasp leaves your throat at the horrible pressure of his fingers digging into bone.

Very quietly, you tell him to let you go.

Michael doesn’t. His hand continues to grip your arm as if cemented there. He meets your eyes with a piercing look that says you are about to die.

Suddenly, the fact of the sanitarium walls surrounding you no longer matter. Your world swings sickeningly sideways. You know only one thing; Michael is going to murder you on the spot.

Tears cascade freely down your face. His grip hurts but the fear hurts worse. You tell him you are going to call in the guards. Michael, unperturbed, holds you, just watching, perhaps even daring you to.

“Please let go.” You are pleading with him now. Pleading with a murderer. Pleading with the monster that has already decided your fate.

The very moment before you raise your voice to scream for the guards, Michael does let go. His hand comes free and you spill to the floor with a yelp, knocking over medical supplies on the counter which clatter loudly as they fall. The doors swing open. The four guards step in.

Michael sits innocuously on the exam table as you heave and tremble on the floor. By all accounts, it would appear as though you’ve fallen due to your own clumsiness.

One of the guards rushes to your side to help you to your feet. You insist in a tight, quivering voice that you are fine; that you only tripped. You spit out that you have everything you need from Myers, and if they would please take him away, and bring in the next patient, that would be excellent.

Michael is still watching you as the guards begin to unlock his ankle cuff. You cannot bear to return his stare. Bending down, you start to pluck a tray of spilled cotton swabs off the floor, trying to occupy your shaking hands, but even long after the guards have removed Myers from the room, your hands refuse to stop their trembling.

#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #slashers #writing #horror #fanfiction #dead by daylight #reader insert #slasher x reader

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iron-mum · 3 years

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I wish you would write a fic where Tony and kid Peter are being adorable father and son as retribution for the angst you’ve made me suffer through in the past hah! (JK I love you and your angst! 💛)

Well, well, well. What do we have here, eh? A request for adorable? I'm not sure, I'm very good at that 😌

Here's SIMTony who would stop at nothing to help his unwell son, Peter get better. Even if it meant using Extremis.

P.S. ILY3000 💕

In the final throes of the graveyard shift at the hospital floor, the elevator pinged for its frequent lone visitor. The front desk staff, whilst tense and sitting up suddenly straighter, knew not to actually engage. No ID was needed for their boss, one of them barely suppressing a gulp as his determined strides headed for the private room that had been deliberately placed near to the room equipped for every possible kind of emergency. Once inside, he carefully shut the door silently and took a seat at the bedside.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sharp blue eyes shifted from the persistent buzzing of the most technologically advanced medical equipment anyone, anywhere could offer before looking back down to something far more invaluable and precious. Tony’s entire world. His purpose in life. The little boy on the bed lay motionless, breathing slowly and evenly, nose occasionally scrunching up at the discomfort of the oxygen mask upon him. He should have been cocooned in a hug from his father but instead his son, Peter, was littered with wires attaching him to the very best modern medicine had to offer.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Pale, soft skin with the daintiest of freckles stood out against the dark curls spread across the far too big pillow. The small fingers of his left hand had loosely closed around the calloused thumb of his father, letting him know that whilst he had been rendered weak from illness, he was still aware of his comforting presence. Tony’s index finger gently glided across the small knuckles, willing himself to see a tiny curve of the lips on his son’s face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

This had been the Avengers fault. Peter’s current critical condition. The young boy had been on a school trip when a battle had broken out and the wannabe heroes managed to cause more destruction than lives saved. A chemical explosion had landed most of the class in hospital and many of them had ended up becoming very unwell. Unfortunately for Peter, he already suffered many ailments so even under the wing of Stark’s finest medical personnel, the struggle had taken a toll. The genius shook his head as thoughts of revenge started to sprout from the many seeds that had been planted since the catastrophic incident. He shelved the many ideas he had that would lead to the demise of the reckless group once his kid was better.

It had been hours when the sound of a nurse's footsteps acted as the catalyst that would remove Tony from the room so he could head back to his lab. As he reluctantly moved his hand away, there was no reaction. Not even a twitch from the slender child. Bending down, he tentatively stroked a small amount of the exposed skin that was available on the boy’s face before planting a light kiss on his forehead. By the time the nurse was opening the door to the room to complete the routine checks, any sign of a visitor would be long gone.

The moment Tony was back in his workshop, he strode towards his desk. Music started to reverberate from the ceiling, the sound greatly appreciated compared to the low hum and incessant beeping from the emotionless devices that were currently keeping his son alive.

Tony didn’t believe in a higher power other than himself. So in no way, shape or form was he ever going to accept that he couldn’t save Peter from the incurable illness now ravaging his frail body. Feeling powerless was simply not an option.

Rolling up the sleeve to his top, the genius opened a drawer and pulled out a device meant for extracting blood as painlessly as possible. Not that pain meant much to him these days. No pain would ever compete with a parent having to watch their child deteriorate every single second of every single day.

Satisfied with the draw, Tony placed it into a diagnostic machine of his own making. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of his workshop, eyeing it like he was in the most intense staring contest of his life. Jaw clenching, his arm shot out allowing liquid metal to glide across his skin before firing a repulsor at the glass and shattering it. There was an element of irony to everyone loving his face except himself in the minimal but intrusive “what if” moments that surrounded his current situation. With a crack of his neck, his arm remained outstretched so the Endo-Sym armour could return to it’s housing tank.

“Boss, the results are back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed as the music lessened in volume. “No adverse reactions detected still. The chemical composition indicates that the Extremis is unchanged in it’s integration with you on a genetic level and continues to remain stable.”

“And the sample from Peter?” Tony asked, confident that he knew what the answer would be.

“Also remaining stable.”

“Alert the staff intending to see Peter following tonight's shift that their presence will not be needed,” the genius demanded as he mentally reiterated the next steps of his plan in his head. Lips curled into devilishly handsome grin at his victory, eyes crinkling at the sides. The smile only softened when his eyes drifted to a framed picture Peter had drawn of the both of them. He’d done it.

“Certainly, boss,” the AI had responded without any acknowledgement. Tony was too busy in thought. Not only was the Extremis flowing through his own veins, leaving him feeling at perfect health. But soon, it would be doing the same for Peter too. Pain free, peak performance and at complete and optimal health.

“Have there been any sightings of the Avengers in the last hour? I feel a splash of revenge is in order for this special occasion?” The holo-screens in front of him started to flicker as social media sites were searched and hashtags refreshed repeatedly. Hulk had been trending within the hour and Hawkeye in the last eleven minutes.

"Well, how about that?" he grinned gleefully. "I really am being spoiled for choice."

Whilst the genius had been certain F.R.I.D.A.Y. had relayed the message to the morning staff, Tony still found himself exhaling sharply at the sight of someone sat by Peter’s side reading his file. The thin bag of Extremis in his hand was shifted into his back pocket as quickly as humanly possible. The good feeling from beating the shit out of one of the Avengers, plus the buzz of providing Peter with a cure that no meagre doctor had been able to, shifted into a tension as tried to work out who it was.

Their face was narrow with sharp features and glasz eyes remarkably penetrating when they met his perusing stare. His black hair had been combed back neatly, the sides of his temples a distinct light grey. The well fitted suit looked designer even for Tony’s impeccable standards.

“Your services are no longer required,” he affirmed with a dismissive flourish of the hands before the man could even introduce himself.

“I’m sorry?” the other man replied without hesitation, closing the file and rising from the chair. Tony’s chair. If he’d been expecting any pleasantries or introductions, he was thoroughly mistaken. Tony was already locked onto Peter, the gentle rise of his chest a welcoming sight as always. He refused to allow his attention to be divided, ignoring the piercing stare boring into him now. “I have an oath to this patient. He critically needs help from the best in all fields. He needs my help.”

The genius turned at that, an eyebrow raised as he looked the doctor up and down. He certainly held himself strongly for someone who had that much audacity in addressing the owner of everything within his current vicinity.

“Are you new around here… Doctor Strange?” He asked disingenuously, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the name badge. The letters ‘VISITOR - Dr Stephen Strange’ jotted on the bottom, likely the reason he hadn’t got his AI’s memo. The receptionist who let him in would be fired whether it was her fault or not.

“Unlike everyone else in this building, no, I don’t work for you” the doctor shot back tersely. “However, you were so insistent on my consultation that, somehow, I found my diary completely cleared of all surgeries that were booked in.”

“Well, you can now stick them back in your diary. We’re done here.”

“I know this is difficult,” the doctor started, tone suddenly softer as if he were hoping a change of tact would get through. “You brought me in for my expertise, so use them.”

“I’m the most intelligent, capable person on the planet. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“Your arrogance surpasses all the rumours and expectations I had of you,” Strange snapped back incredulously. Apparently nothing was going to get through. “Your child is-”

“You know, it would be a real shame if you were to lose your medical licence, wouldn't it, doctor?” Tony sneered dangerously low. This ungrateful little shit was going to get it for not only wasting his time and energy, but also his son’s. An insignificant speck like the rest of the world.

“Are you threatening me?” the doctor replied doing his best to keep his tone cool and unflinching when the other man removed all personal space between them. The lack of intimidation he was feeling only pissed Tony off more.

“Let’s not test my resolve, doctor.” Despite feeling completely wrong about leaving considering Peter’s condition, Dr Stephen Strange tucked the file he’d been reading under his arm and left the room in just a few strides. Tony had spotted the hand diving for a phone as the door shut behind him and clenched his fists in disdain.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., be a darling and ensure Doctor Douchebag doesn’t make it back home,” Tony demanded followed by a nonchalant sniff.

“Yes, boss. His phone has also unexpectedly lost all signal so will not be usable anytime soon.”

Satisfied with the course of action his AI had taken, Tony locked the door to his son’s room for good measure. He eyed the current equipment before making his move. One of the drips currently providing Peter with much needed medicine was switched to make way for a sample of the Extremis that Tony had meticulously created and tested on himself. He peered at his son, swallowing thickly that this would all be worth it.

Bag secured, the first few drops started instantly, the older man watching as they flowed along the thin tubes before entering the cannula imposed on Peter’s hand. The skin began to glow orange, the lava looking trail gliding all the way up the arm’s before entering the chest. Daring a glance at the monitors, Tony noted an instant improvement in the readouts. A smile spread across his face as sheet-white, sickly skin started to immediately brighten.

Peter’s big, brown doe eyes suddenly shot open as he took a huge gulp of air, eyes landing on his father who was remarkably in focus for the first time in his life without the aid of glasses. Tony removed the oxygen mask so he could take his son’s face in fully for the first time in well over a month.

“Dad?” the young boy croaked, clearly a little disoriented from the abrupt wake up.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony whispered, voice cracking with emotion as he closed the distance between them.

Peter lunged at his father, his small arms wrapping tightly around the genius’ neck and face burying into his chest. It had been far too long since either had been able to enjoy the tender, heart-bursting feeling of overwhelming, unconditional love from one another.

“I love you, kiddo.” Tony gushed as one of his hand’s lovingly cupped the back of Peter's head holding him as close as possible. The other enveloped around his back, his thumb slowly stroking up and down. When the older man's hand started to trail through Peter's hair, the boy somehow managed to burrow even closer. Tony soothingly lifted curls between his fingers and then let them ping back as new life continued to circle through his son’s body.

“I love you too, dad,” Peter whispered, a strain evident in his voice that Tony hadn’t been expecting. When he leant back, he saw the likely cause. Now unnecessary wires were tugging at his child’s skin.

“Let’s get these off you, bud. You don’t need them anymore,” he promised softly as he carefully went to work at removing the monitoring equipment clips and stickers. Peter’s curious eyes followed every step of the way, surprisingly not wincing even when some of the tougher stickers were peeled away. Although he was too young to even begin comprehending what had happened, he knew from vague memories he’d been hurt and that he’d slept a lot. Often he had been unsure if he was dreaming or awake when he’d hear his father read him stories, express his love and let him know how brave he was being. A slight tug on his hand drew him from his recollection as he looked down.

"I’m scared," Peter timidly admitted as he eyed up the last piece of medical equipment attached to him. The cannula in his hand.

“Here’s what we're gonna do, bud. We’re going to put on our brave faces and before you know it, it’ll be all done and over with. Can you show me your bravest, fiercest face?” Tony gently challenged, as part of his upper lip curled and he playfully growled.

The child’s dinky nose scrunched up and his lips pushed out into the biggest pout he could form. He shook his head a little and hummed in a way that likely felt fierce to him but could only be described as adorable to his dad.

"Wowzer. That was super mean, you nearly scared me!” Tony gasped dramatically, as he gestured for the boy to look down and see that the only thing on the top of his hand was a small cotton wool ball and a light pressure from his dad. Using his free hand to fish into his pocket, Tony revealed a green Paw Patrol sticker with Peter’s favourite character, Rocky, on it.

It had been a distant memory since the young boy had handed it to him, having spotted the numerous nicks and cuts that littered his hard working hands after a long day in the workshop. Extremis meant Peter wouldn’t even need it, but the placebo effect would make it worth it.

“Am I all better, daddy?” Peter asked as Tony eyed him up once more. The overwhelmed father cupped his kid’s face and planted another kiss on his forehead, relief washing over him that he was now free from the concatenation of medical instrumentation.

“You most certainly are. And that means we get to skedaddle out of here.”

Before his son could anticipate his next move, his father had scooped him up into his arms and they were making their way not only out of the room, but off of the floor for good.

They’d had a chance to change into matching casual wear and feasted on a huge breakfast before snuggling up on the sofa. Peter had selected an Octonauts movie to watch as he tucked into his father’s side and enjoyed the sound of his steady heartbeat.

It would be a couple of hours when Tony’s phone pinged with a notification he knew was F.R.I.D.A.Y. when she was being discreet. His son huffed at the movement as he shuffled to get the phone out of his pocket, muttering an apology to his kid before opening the message.

[Unfortunate accident on the Hawk’s Nest, Route 97. Vehicle crossed the barrier and rolled multiple times down the cliff’s edge before landing in the Delaware River. Initial scan from one of the Iron Sight Bot #364 shows one survivor.]

Tony’s smirk widened into a full blown smile. Peter’s heart-of-gold eyes suddenly on him, looking up from his position. It was likely a silent protest at the lack of head strokes he was suddenly receiving so the genius replied swiftly.

[Call off any emergency services and get him med-evaced here.]

“You know what I think we need. Celebratory cheeseburgers for lunch,” he announced as Peter let out a squee of joy.

#writer prompt game #thank you for sending this one in!#ill be working on the next over the weekend! 🐸

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sevensided · 3 years

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how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #answered #i really hope this helps/answers your question!#i can do something more structured if you want #otherwise here are just my initial thoughts #Anonymous

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forever--darling · 4 years

Text

mine - s.m.

ceo au

a/n: I suggest listening to I put a spell on you by annie lennox while reading this

warnings: 8.3k words of slight curse words, innuendos, and ceo shawn mendes

Ding

Surrounded in the sweet smell of pastries and bread, you had been so caught up in the comfort that the building provided while your nose was stuck in a textbook, you had failed to notice that you were still in the middle of a shift. Your eyes were tracing over the same line over and over as a small feeling filled your gut like you were missing something, but you tried to write it off and continue studying. You had a huge test the next day that was worth a large percent of your grade and you couldn’t afford to fail it, so any distractions had to be rid from your mind. And, they had but it wasn’t until the loud beep went off again that it alerted the attention of the man stood at the front counter who had been ringing up another customer.

The older man poked his head into the doorway to see you bent over the counter, eyes trained onto the thick book and zero perception of where you were. He sighed before beginning to yell your name over and over into the back room. Seconds later, your head tore away from the book, startled and brought back to the fact that you were still at work.

Pushing yourself away from the counter and away from the textbook, you grabbed two oven mitts. “Oh, shit!”

You opened the door to see the smoke rising from the baked treats and quickly reached for them hoping that you hadn’t burnt the last batch of the day. Slipping the hot pan onto the wood counter, you slipped the oven mitts from your hands as your eyes fell back to the still open textbook. Your neck was twisted to the side in a desperate attempt to analyze the words and have them stick into your brain.

“Y/N,” he called again, taking your attention away from your studies for the second time.

“Right,” you replied, slamming the book closed, making sure to mark your page before you continued to prepare the muffins for their basket. You sighed with relief that not one of them appeared to be burnt black.

Minutes later, you appeared from the back room and approached the front counter with a brown wicker basket sat neatly into your palms. Covered in a clear plastic bag tied at the top with a pink ribbon to ensure that the muffins stayed in the basket when delivered, you slid the basket onto the counter next to the other one. It appeared to be the same despite the different flavored muffins and the grey ribbon tied tightly at the top in comparison of a pink.

You sighed in a way to prepare yourself to face your boss, “Here you go, Oscar. The last batch of the day, all made and ready to go.”

Oscar, your boss and owner of the building, nodded sparing a glance towards the basket as he continued to jot down words on a notepad with a black pen. “Not burnt?” he asked raising an eyebrow his words soft but serious.

“Not burnt,” you replied, hands running along the plastic wrap before falling onto the ends of the ribbon tightening them. “Luckily. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, hasn’t been the first time.”

“And probably won’t be the last,” you admitted teasingly.

Oscar nodded knowingly as laughter bubbled from the back of his throat, “Probably not but it’s okay, you’re a college kid. I knew what I was getting into when I hired you. So what class is it this time?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back against the counter, body facing the back wall at the chalkboard menu you had written on with new pastries that morning. “Physics, which I don’t even know why I’m taking in the first place. Anyways, I have this huge test tomorrow and it’s a large part of my grade. I’m struggling enough as it is so I can’t fail.”

“I see,” Oscar responded, already able to feel the stress seeping out of you, “And have you figured out what you want to major in yet?”

“Nope,” you replied popping the “p” as you began to rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, “Not a clue.”

He smiled, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, and if you never do and college doesn’t seem like the place for you, there will always be a place for you here.”

“Thank you, Oscar. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you said sending the older man a warm smile.

“Anytime, kid,” he mumbled, returning your smile with a wink.

Oscar Wheeler had been the owner of Sensationally Muffin for almost three years now and had opened the bakery after leaving his former job as a salesman. At rolling in at the height of around six foot, Oscar Wheeler was a broad shouldered man that had a strong large build at the age of forty-five. He had umber colored skin, with warm yellow and copper undertones, that wrinkled at the corners of his mouth and around his eyes. Grey hair rounded the edges of his head, standing out against his black buzzed head while also being shown present around his facial hair that ran along his chin and upper lip.

Besides his handsome middle aged features, Oscar was a sweet man that would spread kindness wherever he went and found a comfort in the bakery business. He loved the happiness that was brought from making the baked goods and found solitude in his small quaint little shop that bursted with warmth. From his presence, he provided a kind of compassion that no one could fake and because he was so nice and talked to anyone that walked through those doors, the small bakery became a place of support and love for many people.

Oscar had built the life he had always hoped for in the last three years and it always warms your heart at the business he had created. As a previous salesman before, all he had ever done was work. Day after day, chained to that desk, losing the feeling of what it felt like to actually be living. One day it had gotten to be too much and he quit on the spot, invested his savings into a dusty old building sat on the corner of first avenue.

He built this place out of nothing all by himself and because he had always been working he wasn’t married and he had no kids. He didn’t have a family like many men did his age and instead created his own family, here. He had formed friendships here and as corny as it sounded, you had found your own little family within these four walls.

Even though the bakery had been up and running for three years there were still not many workers that had settled here. Oscar was a man who relied on honesty and selflessness. He was picky when it came to who he hired. He had rejected many college students the moment they walked in through the doors begging for a job, and it came to quite a shock when he finally had hired you. It was over a year ago when you had just gotten done with what ended up being one of the worst classes you had ever had and along with that had been stood up on a date.

It was snowing and the wind was blazing and you couldn’t bare the idea of moping all the way back to your apartment to only get pitied for the rest of the night by your roommate. Instead, you wandered the streets, which seemed almost empty due to the storm, trying to busy yourself until the time seemed acceptable to return home.

However, it became difficult to stay out in the cold any longer when the wind picked up and you stumbled into the first warmest building you could see. If only you knew that when you walked into the bakery that day, snow falling from your clothes, that it would be the start of meeting some of the best people of your life. From then it was the easiest decision Oscar had made, from seeing how you longed to get warmth from the small fireplace and offered to help with anything. So when the time had came that you finally asked if there were any jobs in the small building, you had instantly grown to love, he had said yes without even giving you an interview.

That was how the little Sensationally Muffin family started and despite the sadness that took up the man of never getting married or having children, it was quickly replaced by the happiness of your presence and the bakery’s presence. Because at the end of the day, you were his daughter whether from blood or not.

“So, are you still okay to deliver these tonight or do you have to get home,” you were brought out of your thoughts by the man of the hour himself who was reorganizing some of the pastries in the box placed near the counter.

“Only two stops?” you asked, looking towards the two baskets on the counter.

“Yes, two stops,” Oscar confirmed adjusting a piece of coffee cake before sliding the small plastic door shut.

“Then yeah I can. Suppose I can take a break of studying for a little while, which I’m guessing since this basket is all blueberry muffins and it’s a Thursday that we have yet to deliver Mrs. Crenshaw's basket of muffins,” you stated, eyes looking towards the pink bowed basket that was filled to the brim of just blueberry muffins.

“You’d be right.”

“Of course, I know how much Mrs. Crenshaw loves her blueberry muffins,” you laughed.

Oscar smiled as he moved the two baskets towards the other end of the counter so you could just grab them on your way out, “She does. Anyways, I got a call from Roxy one of the head nurses of the nursing home. She said that they’ll be at the park again like they are usually on Thursdays. She says today they got some college kid to sing to them with his guitar so they’re just hanging there until six, when they’ll have to get everyone back.”

“That’s nice, I’ll head there first. Won’t want to miss them,” you replied, untying your blue apron from around your waist and folding it up in your hands, “So where’s the other delivery supposed to go?”

“Uh, it’s a large company building near the center of the city. I attached the address to the basket so you know where to find it and put the man’s name so you don’t get lost once you’re in there.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion at his words as your fingers knotted into the apron in your hand, “A company building that’s different. We don’t usually get orders from places like that.”

The older man nodded but couldn’t help the small smile on his lips, “Yes, but I have to say I’m not complaining. Business is business and I will take as much of it as I can get.”

Your expression softened and chuckled knowing he was right. Walking into the back room, you placed your apron down on one of the bottom shelves and began to place all of your notebooks and your textbook back into your backpack. Still curious of the journey you were about to take, you continued the conversation to see if Oscar knew anything else. “So, with this company building do you know anything about them or about who made the order?”

“Uh, yeah. I believe it was some assistant or someone like that. Ms. Bloom, I think it was. She was calling about placing an order of muffins for her boss. Heard from a friend that we have the very best. Said that her boss has a thing for muffins and would probably like the small surprise from all of the meetings he has been having the last couple days non stop,” he said now starting to tidy up the counter.

“Hmm busy man,” you commented pulling the backpack over your shoulders before you clock out of your shift, “Is it a big company?”

He nodded, turning his attention away from the front counter towards you as you approached the basket of muffins, “Yes, very. Like muli-million very, I think, but you shouldn’t have to worry about that. You have enough on your plate as it is.”

“Funny,” you thought out loud as your fingers began to trace around the white card that was pinned to the basket, the words hidden on the other side, “A multi-million company is buying a fourteen dollar basket of muffins. You would think they would at least buy some that are sprinkled with bits of gold, but hey lucky us. Business is business.”

Oscar chuckled at the way you quoted him and couldn’t help but to walk over and pull you into a side hug, “That’s right, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, be safe. Text me if you need anything and good luck on your test,” he said, hand placed comfortingly on your shoulder.

“Thanks,” you mumbled out, grabbing both baskets and turning to walk towards the front door sparing a small wave over your shoulder, “Bye!”

He waved back a smile pulled across his face, causing his eyes to wrinkle like they tended to always do. Squeezing past the glass door, you ended up on the sidewalk that wasn’t as busy as it had been previously in the day since most people had made it at home by this time on a weekday. You smiled at the feeling of wind dancing across your skin and the sight of the sun starting to fall from the sky as you moved towards the side of the bakery to locate your transportation and one of the things you loved the most in this city. Your bike. Hating how crowded the streets would get for driving, you would rely on your beautiful bike to get you from one place to another whether it’s to deliver muffins, or get you across campus as fast as possible. Gosh, you really loved that bike.

It was a light blue Schwinn bicycle that had a white seat and a metal basket hanging in the front off of the handlebars housing a place to hold the muffins. Unlocking the bike from the bike ramp, you placed both orders of muffins into the hanging basket and swung your leg over the seat. Situating yourself onto the bike, you set out to your destination, one of two until you were able to go home and crawl into the bed of your apartment.

By the time you had managed to drop off the basket of muffins in the park for Mrs. Crenshaw and get out of the park, it had taken you almost a half an hour. You didn’t think that when you got there that Mrs. Crenshaw would insist that you stay and continue to argue over it for the next fifteen minutes. Even when you had mentioned that you had another stop to make she would just interrupt you by talking about how great the music was this college boy was singing, or go on about how cute he was as if that would make you stay and visit with them awhile. You thought it was sweet that she wanted to talk to you and you felt a little guilty about leaving in a rush, but knew that you could just visit another day.

Another day when you didn’t have to go deal with multi-million company people and have to study for a huge Physics test. When you somehow had managed to slip away from Mrs. Crenshaw because she was stuffing her face with muffins and dancing to the music, you quickly grabbed your money from Roxy, the head nurse that Oscar said made the call, and hot tailed it out of the park before any of the other elders could pull you into a conversation.

You were walking your bike down a sidewalk that went out of the park, waiting to get out towards the street to hop back on and get going. Knowing that the road was approaching, you stopped your bike for a second to take a glance at the address written on the card of the basket. Reaching over and into the bike basket you flipped the card over and read over what it said.

Mr. Mendes

Mendes Corporations

982 Edgefield Drive

Toronto, CA R1A K3G

The bike ride from the park to the company building took exactly seven minutes give or take and luckily it was a place you couldn’t get lost finding. From a few blocks away, you were able to spot it and it’s crystal glass walls. By the time you had actually arrived outside of the building, your jaw had hit the floor. When Oscar had said company with an office building, you never expected this. Even when, he said “multi-million” you wrote it off thinking that he was just kidding. Yeah, you thought “oh it will just be a small brick company building that was two or three stories high” - yeah no. This was not the case.

This company had to have been large and very much a multi-million maybe even billion. The building was tall coming up to maybe being the height of a small skyscraper that went up multiple stories, made out of clear glass, accented with silver steel to add detail to the building. With windows surrounding the whole building, it no doubt had a lot of light pour in during the day. Or maybe the windows reflected the harsh light to hit back at the streets, considering you couldn’t see within the building through the windows. Either way you couldn’t know until you actually stepped in. The front was fitted with two sets of doors on either side of a silver large revolving door and above the door were the words Mendes Co. splayed across in thick black letters that no doubt lit up at night.

To accompany the doors there were two doormen dressed in black fitted suits and white earpieces on, standing on either side of the regular doors. They looked more like bodyguards and could be for all you knew, but with them opening the sets of doors they stood by, it gave you the impression they were just very well dressed doormen. As you looked up at the building, it seemed to go up forever before being cut flat by the open styled roof, that no doubt probably had access to it from a door and stairs.

Surprisingly with a place that looked so high class and well done, there was a metal bike rack sat near the road. Even that seemed to be better than the other streets you found bike racks at. It was clean and reflected off the lights of the city, not one speck of dust or rust. You somehow found yourself standing outside, looking around to see if the people walking near the building were better dressed and looked ready for a business meeting, but they all appeared like you. Casually dressed and not paying attention to the gorgeous building, they were passing as if it were a normal thing.

Noticing that the sun was setting more and more behind the city the longer you stood there gaping at the business building, you quickly tore your gaze from it to lock your bike against the bike rack. When secured and sure that it wasn’t going anywhere, you took the basket of muffins in your hand and made your way towards the revolving door. Both doorman/ bodyguards looked you up and down as you reached the door and no doubt if you hadn’t been holding that basket of muffins they probably wouldn’t have let you walk in just by the way you dressed.

As soon as you laid eyes on the bustling building from the inside, you knew they definitely wouldn’t have let you in. The inside was the nicest place you had ever seen. The walls from the ceiling to the floor were white and smooth showing a faint reflection as you walked by it. Anything else was silver or black causing the whole room to appear sleek and smooth leaving you with the question of what the hell this company really did and was. And if that wasn’t it, the lobby was filled with people fitted like they were made of money.

From the tight suits that clung to each man to the women that dressed in short pencil skirts or dresses paired with a blazer, their hair all pulled up out of their face and showing their beautiful soft features. Plus, every women had a pair of heels at least six inches tall on the bottom of their feet making them look even more business sexy and tall. Like extremely tall. You weren’t exactly a very short person but next to all these women, they made you look like the size of a twelve year old next to a bunch of NBA basketball players. In that moment you had never felt so out of place before with your ripped skinny jeans and sneakers.

Your hair was messily pulled into a ponytail with pieces framing your face and along with the jacket and backpack you had on, a grey long sleeve shirt that hugged your chest tightly. Your face barely had any makeup thinking that for work all you needed was some mascara but now you wished you had put on some lip gloss or something because compared to all the other women who supported a lipstick your lips just looked dry and cracked. You knew you didn’t belong in that building and so did everyone else. They all followed you with their gaze and probably felt relieved that there was a basket of muffins in your hand meaning you weren’t actually here for something important. It was funny that the basket provided you with protection from the well dressed vultures and you knew that it would be a whole different story when you had to leave basketless.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you moved your way through the lobby towards the front silver desk that appeared to be just as smooth as the walls. A woman sat behind the desk her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head with a tight black skirt and white blouse with the top buttons undone. She looked up from the computer but instead of giving you a harsh glare like everyone else, she offered a soft smile not enough to show her teeth but enough for it to be a smile.

You took a deep breath never feeling this nervous to deliver a basket of muffins before. Raising the basket, you gestured to it as you explained why someone like you would be in a place like this, “Uh, I have a delivery for a Ms. Bloom which is really-- uh, for a Mr. Mendes.”

As your words came out stuttered and fast, you mentally groaned at making yourself look like an actual idiot. Now you made yourself look even more out of place if that could even be possible. At embarrassing yourself in front of a woman who was basically a model, you could feel the heat rush up past your neck settling onto your face. You tugged at your jacket mercilessly, worrying that you might actually be escorted out of the building, but a sigh of relief flew past your mouth at the small chuckle made from the model worthy receptionist. “Yes, Mr. Mendes’ office is on the twelfth floor and as soon as you walk out of the elevator there should be a large desk where Ms. Bloom sits.”

“Alright, thank you,” you replied, raking your fingers through your hair anxiously before making your way towards where the woman was pointing that held the elevators. As you rounded the corner towards the elevators you found people bustling in and out not caring about bumping into you along the way.

There were a total of six elevators all with large silver doors and blue buttons off to the side. You had managed to slip past a sea of people that were just leaving elevator two and enter into elevator four which only held a couple older men dressed in black suits and a small group of women who were whispering to each other in the corner while sneaking you glances. They were tall like every other woman in this place and dressed in tight business clothes as usual. You were lucky to get an elevator that wasn’t full of people because that might not have set too well with you if you had.

The elevator itself was lit with white and had lights showering down from the top as the walls were cut into squares all around, bouncing your reflection back at you. Again the nicest elevator you had ever been on and wished more than anything that yours back at your apartment building looked as good as this.

“Floor?” one of the men asked who had white slicked back hair and was carrying a brown briefcase. He didn’t spare much of a glance to you which you felt relieved to not have to face his judging eyes, when you could already feel a hole being burned in the back of your head from the women.

“Uh, twelve,” you mumbled, hearing the whispers stop behind you for a few seconds before starting up again.

You weren’t even surprised probably anybody and everybody in this building knew that the twelve floor belonged to the owner of this whole corporation. Which meant that if the lobby were as dressed as they were, walking out of this elevator and onto that floor probably looked liked visiting royalty, and you were not one to walk through the doors and be among royalty. Because of the women behind you, you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into your side while trying to take smooth sturdy breaths but it became too much when you heard one of them say something about how you looked.

It was muffled and you couldn’t hear much of what she said but it was enough to know it was about you. It caused your stomach to sink further than it already had for being required to be in this building, so it made you a little less fidgety when you reached back and pulled your hair loose from the ponytail letting it fall. Your shiny unbrushed waves laid across your shoulders and you smoothed them down at the top, hoping that it looked a little more put together than it had in the ponytail.

Luckily, the twelfth floor was the lowest floor selected so you were able to be the first one off the elevator. When the awful ride finally came to a stop at your floor, you spared the men a small smile. “Have a nice day,” you said before walking out of the elevator.

The doors closed behind you and instead of walking forward towards the desk, sat a few feet down the hallway tucked up against a wall, you stood still. Clutching the basket to your chest, you gaze across the most important floor of the whole entire building. As expected, its lined with white from Ms. Bloom’s desk to the chairs that sit tucked into the few other smaller desks sat abandoned in the hallway to the walls. Also, right above Ms. Bloom’s desk was Mendes Co. in the same way it was on the front of the building. Block letters in dark black, concluding that this was in fact his floor. It was modern and sleek and made you wonder to no end about who this man was. Mr. Mendes.

He must have held so much power, in whatever the hell he did, to build a building so large and so high class. You had no doubt that he had a lot of money and from how expensive everything was and set out to be there was no doubt in your mind that Mr. Mendes had to have been older. He had to have built this company up over courses of years to get it to where it is now. It didn’t make much sense to you though that if this company seemed to have so much money and was so well known why you had never heard of it until now. It made you think that if had been around a while that you would have heard about it at least once or twice. Maybe you hadn’t heard of it because you were just some college kid that had her head stuck in a pile of books.

Within the nice floor, you could hear the faint sound of voices, phones ringing, and the sound of heels clicking against the floor, along with music that had to have been John Mayer but you couldn’t be sure. It smelled faintly of rosewood and spices mixed with some kind of cologne which instantly sent your mind in a frenzy at how good it smelt passing through your nose. It made your body sway and your head swell from how much you were beginning to like it, and knew that all the women that worked here most swoon in the presence of the masculine smell. They probably had fallen to their knees, once or twice, for their boss if Mr. Mendes smelled anything like his floor.

You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of a high pitched voice that appeared very annoyed, “No, Mr. Mendes is in a meeting I told you that a half an hour ago and he will still be in a meeting a half an hour from now. I will let him know that you called like I said I would before.”

You looked to find the voice coming from where the large white desk was set against the wall, being no doubt Ms. Bloom. Approaching her and the desk, you watched as she yelled something into the phone before slamming it down back onto the desk, hanging up the call all together. She sat down in the grey plush chair at the desk and began to fiddle with the computer as if she hadn’t noticed you. You took that small moment to analyze her from head to toe and wasn’t surprised at all with what you were seeing. It was as if there was a pattern for the women that worked in this office or even set foot on its expensive tiled floors.

She had tan skin that looked like she had just come back from vacation and sleek caramel hair braided back into a low bun with not a single piece of hair out of place. She had piercing blue eyes that matched the colors of the ocean and stood out even more against her dark eyeshadow and winged liner. She had a small button nose that was contoured to perfection and plush pink lips that looked glossy in the light. She was dressed in a tight black dress that fell to right above her knees, showcasing her long freshly shaved legs, and it was so tight against her body that she couldn’t have been wearing a bra or any underwear. It was clear that if it was that tight and she still decided to wear it to work that it probably didn’t bother her.

And, from the way she ordered the basket of muffins to surprise her boss, dress skin tight with a face full of makeup, and be so defensive on the phone about him it was not hard to realize she had something for Mr. Mendes or maybe with him. You weren’t entirely sure but it wouldn’t be a surprise that with what money he appeared to have he could afford to sleep with his assistant and hire every beautiful person that walked along Toronto. As you thought about it all, you made sure to make a mental note to ask your roommate later that evening about the corporation because with everything you had discovered in the last ten minutes you had never been so curious in your whole entire life.

“Yes?” her high pitched voice snapped from behind the desk, not bothering to look up.

“Oh, uh I have the basket of muffins you ordered from Sensationally Muffin,” you whispered softly, slightly worried she would bite your head off if you said something wrong.

Instead, though at your words, her eyes lit up and a small smile feel on her face but that all slightly faltered as she looked up and locked gazes onto you. She frowned as she looked you up and down before letting out a distasteful noise that sounded much like an ew. She covered it up though with a small cough and turned her eyes to the basket in your hand. It was a mixed batch between one's like chocolate chip and blueberry to apple cinnamon and pumpkin. In fact the basket had almost every flavor except lemon which was requested to not be added.

You even added in your favorite muffin creation; a triple chocolate craze muffin that was filled with chocolate syrup. Of course it was delicious and drool worthy but something you could only have one of. They weren’t ordered very often and because the basket required almost every muffin you had on the menu, you thought you would sneak it in because it really was made for the high class. Now that you are standing with the basket in your hands, you’re happy that you added it, or maybe you weren’t because this man seemed to have everything except for your muffin. Which thanks to you, the triple chocolate craze will bless his taste buds though he has probably tasted the grandest of things compared to a chocolate muffin.

You felt the basket get tugged from your hands and set down onto the desk. It was funny, how much that delicious basket of muffins blended in with the rest of the building because of that stupid grey ribbon. No one would even be able to tell that it was fourteen dollars and came from a cheap bakery a few blocks away. It was sad that something so delicious would have to be given to a man that seemed to be screwing his assistant, but like Oscar always says business is business.

“How much do I owe you, for the muffins?” she asked picking out a black leather wallet from within a desk drawer.

“Uh-”

“Wait,” she holds her hand up cutting you off and at first you have no idea why. Then you realize that she has stopped you because of the voices that are coming from down a hall near the elevator that you somehow had missed when you exited and looked around the floor. They were getting closer and one obviously stood out towards Ms. Bloom when she quickly grabbed the basket of muffins from the desk and gave you a pointed look. “I’ll be right back.”

She turned away from you and fast walked, almost a jog, away from the desk in the opposite direction of where the voices were coming from. Her heels clicked against the floor as she went in a fast set of twos as she made it down the hallway towards a pair of double doors that went all the way up to the ceiling.

They were made of wood and stained dark almost to the color of black and had rusty red undertones that were seeping past the dark hue. The handles were silver rods that hung off the door and went up past the height of Ms. Bloom even in her heels. Probably stainless steel from the way they looked. She tore open one of the doors and slipped in, disappearing behind it with the basket of muffins in her hands.

You stood and took a deep breath, running your fingers through your loose hair tugging at the ends. Closing your eyes with the exhaustion kicking in, you could now hear the multiple pairs of footsteps echoing within the floor and the voices becoming more clear. As they seemed to be just around the corner, you could now identify that it was definitely a group of men. All low and deep, shouting multiple things at once, clearly arguing. However, there was one that stuck out like a sore thumbs amidst the others. It was higher and soft to the ears.

He seemed to be the one centered in the attention because though the rest of voices were jumbled together you were able to hear his words clear, “Enough, enough. I answered everything in the meeting, now stop because I have other things to attend to.”

Though his voice was demanding and sent a shiver down your spine it did not ward off the other men and only made them yell louder down the hallway as they rounded the corner. Hearing the muffled shouts burst from no longer being a wall away, you turned in the direction of the voices, that sounded clearer then they had before, faces being matched towards the rowdy sounds. Sure enough, walking in your direction was a group of what appeared to be six middle aged men dressed in suits and surrounding the very person that caused their shouting. They trailed behind him and as they only got closer to where you stood it was not hard to spot the man out who stuck out among them. He was tall. Taller than the rest of them which proved to be the first thing that made him stick out.

The next thing was his age. You easily noticed that he was half of their age at most and very handsome. Possibly the most beautiful man you had laid eyes on and that said a lot, since every young male worker in this building could make your knees weak, but him god he was something else entirely. He had dark curls sat at the top of his head that looked all messy and hadn’t been styled which only made him look more gorgeous. Which seemed impossible since he had a sharp jawline, pretty brown eyes, and pink pillowy lips. He also obviously was fit, you could tell from the way the dark blue suit hugged his long body. It made you wonder what someone like him was doing in a place like this instead of on a billboard somewhere but when the rest of the building was also good looking it kind of wasn’t a surprise that he was here either.

“Gentlemen,” he announced, revealing his soft silk like voice, making it evident that he was the one that had stuck out among their constant rambling down the hallway, “The meeting is over, I appreciate your time but this shit’s done.”

He continues to walk down the hallway towards you and the men still refuse to give up despite how cold it sounded. He tries to ignore them, looking elsewhere than the six men around him. In doing so his brown eyes fall onto you, stood abandoned at his assistant's desk with flushed cheeks, looking so out of place. At first you thought he would glare at you or laugh at the sight of you in a place like this. Which wouldn’t have been all bad if his laugh ended up to be just as beautiful as he appeared to be, but instead he cocks his head to the side looks you up and down with a curious glint in his eyes.

You shuddered under his gaze and can feel your cheeks become even more red from his intense stare. He refused to look away from you and as he looked you up and down once more, he began to lick at his lips. You didn’t know at all what it meant the way he was looking at you or why, when there were plenty of more attractive women to drool over, but felt slightly appreciative of it anyway because he was very hot. However, that turned from just a hot man in a suit staring at you into something much more real fast.

“Mr. Mendes!”

His eyes broke away for a second at the sound of his name and your blood had ran cold. Your eyes widened at the name and soon realized that this tall man with curls who stood in the middle of the men was the man of this company. He was younger than you had ever expected and now it didn’t appear such a surprise that all the women dressed the way they did especially Ms. Bloom. Any woman would want a man like that who owned what he had. In fact, I’m sure many women did. That’s why you were as shocked as you were to see his eyes on you.

He noticed your expression as soon as he moved his eyes away from one of the men back to you and realized at the mention of his name that you were startled. You looked like a deer in headlights, innocent and doe eyed. It made his stomach burn at the thought of being with someone like you. A woman pure and not invested in a world of money. It turned him on in a way it never had before, and though you were a complete stranger, if the hall were empty he would have you bent over that desk within seconds, right under his company’s name.

You broke away from his gaze at the sound of Ms. Bloom returning back to the desk and you had never been so relieved to hear the sound of her heels clicking against the floor. You noticed the way she spared a glance over your shoulder towards “Mr. Mendes” her boss before looking back towards you smugly. “How much?”

“Uh, um…”

“Excuse me,” she snapped, “Are you def, how much?”

“Fourteen dollars,” you replied swallowing the lump in your throat.

She picked through her wallet and handed you a twenty before shoving the wallet back into the desk. “You can keep the change save up to buy something that isn’t… well that,” she sneered gesturing to you up and down.

“Thanks,” you mumbled softly too focused on the gaze still locked on the back of you to even defend yourself against the snippy comment from the assistant.

Not sparing another second, you turn on your heels and head straight for the elevator. Walking by his tall figure and the other men, you can feel his eyes follow you all the way to end of the elevator. Even when you enter into the small moving box, when you look back out towards the floor you can see his brown eyes disappearing behind the silver doors as they come to a close, leaving you alone and in complete relief to be on your way out of here. As you ride down in the elevator back to the lobby, he on the other hand clears his throat and fixes his black tie before scurrying away to his office behind the large dark wooden doors.

When he is safely behind them, the men no longer are able to bother him and eventually disperse given up. Shoving his hands into his front pockets, he walks across his office, hands tracing along his desk, stopping at the basket of muffins on his desk. It being the very reason why someone like you were in his building and why you had wanted to leave in such a hurry. He chuckles softly to himself before he continues forward to one of the wall clad windows of his office. He leans against it, gazing down towards the sidewalk in front of the building that appears so much smaller from where he stands. It’s minutes later by the time he notices you bolt from the building and head straight for your bike and though he has to squint to see from how small you appear he knows it’s you from how frantic you are.

He is interrupted by a small knock on his door and the sound of it opening. He doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is. It was going to happen some time today, he knew from the way she dressed in that skin tight black dress that hugged her whole body leaving no room for undergarments. Other days, that dress would have him locking his office and taking her onto the top of his desk where she would scream for his mercy but today his sight was too focused on something else to give into her.

“Mr. Mendes,” she said seductively, knowing how much he liked to be addressed that way in the office by her. “I got you a basket of muffins. Your favorite. With how many meetings you’ve been having, I thought it would make you feel a little bit better or just cheer you up. I know how those meetings can be.”

He didn’t turn around or even acknowledge her words at first too focused on you as you unlock your bike from the bike rack, climb on, and ride away down the street. It finally registered that she had been talking when you were no longer in sight. “Oh, yes. I see.”

That was all he had said and he still hadn’t turned around. She was pushing out her chest and rubbing her thighs together waiting for him to turn and look at her. She had gotten him a basket of muffins and instead of shoving her face down onto his desk as a way to express his gratitude, he was just staring out the damn window. It had been a week since he had devoured her on his grey couch sat in the corner of the room and she was dying to feel his burning touch again.

Usually by now, he would have been hot and horny to do a couple rounds from his desk to the couch or even on the floor. Anywhere he could just to relieve the throbbing that would appear between his legs from her in that skin tight dress but clearly that wasn’t the case now and she could see that. See that something else was taking up his mind or perhaps someone else. She was getting nervous that he wasn’t going to turn around, that he wasn’t going to acknowledge her in that dress, and wasn’t going to finish off the ache that her thighs couldn’t do on their own.

“Is that all, Ms. Bloom?” his voice broke her from her thoughts and she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

She was shocked that he was denying her and denying any moment to pleasure himself. With realization of what he really was saying that shock turned into anger. Her blood began to boil and now she was beginning to feel hot in more than just one place. Waiting another second, thinking he was going to change his mind, she lost it fully when he sent her a glance over his shoulder and raised his eyebrow clearly annoyed. His eyes showed no trace of lust or need and instead was emotionless not even giving her a once over like he always did. At his small glance, her eyes narrowed and sent him the coldest glare she could muster as her lips curled into a snarl.

“Yes, Mr. Mendes that’s all,” she spat, the words sounding like venom dripping from her tongue as she turned on her heels and stomped out of the office making sure to slam the door on the way out.

He sighed at the childish behavior, pissed at her response to him refusing to have sex with her. Sure, she was hot or whatever but clearly she didn’t understand that it was going to happen sooner or later. That he was going to get tired of her and toss her aside. He can only stick with one woman for so long before it starts to taste the same on his tongue.

Since she was his assistant, she should’ve known this out of anybody with how many women, who worked under him, that he would bring in this office to fuck. Each only ever lasting a few weeks at most, she should have easily known this was going to happen. It was just the way he was and no woman could change that. He knew that if she continued to be upset about the whole thing that he would have to fire her, leaving it only being five months since she’d been hired and even if he did have to, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Many women wanted this job and would kill to wait on his hand and foot at every hour of every day. It would be easy to replace someone like Ms. Bloom. Plus with her now tossed to the side, he had his eyes set on something else. Something that he was going to get no matter how hard it was because he never got refused. Turns out this something was just a college girl who worked at a bakery making muffins.

next part

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misskikuwrites · 3 years

Text

Recall

Bederia Week 2021: Day 5 - First ‘I love you’

Bede/Gloria (dressedinpinkshipping)

Tags: fluff, angst, mutual pining

Words: 4,031

@bede-x-gloria

It was a welcoming, albeit surprising, sight to see Gloria saunter into the Fairy Gym, as if nothing had happened between her and Bede. As if they hadn't kissed not once, but twice, in the past few days. Bede collected himself and straightened. He tried to hide his disappointment that the kisses they'd shared hadn't left a lasting impression on her. His heart flopped heavily in his chest. As she approached, he decided to greet Gloria as per usual.

"Please tell me you haven't gotten yourself into more trouble so soon," Bede said, teasing her with the faintest of smiles on his face. "Need I remind you of the many favours I've already done for you this year?"

Gloria huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "What, I can't come visit you for no reason?" She stared him down for a moment, her reaction - or lack thereof - towards him giving Bede pause.

Perhaps nothing had changed between them after all.

"Fine, if you're so busy-" she whirled on her heels "-I'll go find someone else to bother."

Bede bit back a smile. He could tell she was pouting, her cheeks puffed, by the sound of her voice.

"Hold on, I never said I was busy," he said quickly, making Gloria stop before she'd reached the automatic doors. She peeked over her shoulder at him, unconvinced. The fake hurt on her face, her expression an absolute put-on, made him want to laugh. He swallowed the mirth that bubbled in his chest, forcing down his grin. Arceus, she was adorable when she didn't get her way. It made him want to tease her more.

"In fact," Bede continued, thinking on the spot for a reason to make her stay, "I might just call in one of the favours you owe me."

Gloria slowly turned back to face him. Her brow furrowed slightly. "What sort of favour?"

"If you're willing to put yourself to good use, then come with me," Bede said, beckoning her to follow as he headed backstage. Gentle footfalls trailed behind him, the clasps of Gloria's bag jangling as she shifted its weight on her back, and Bede couldn't help but smirk at how she'd followed him without question. He led her into a room usually used for storage, the back wall crammed with overstuffed boxes, and gestured for her to take a seat at the table.

Gloria swept her gaze around the room in mute awe. Costume racks and half-painted backdrops lined the walls. The table in the centre of the room was covered with stationary and an array of books - notebooks, workbooks and dictionaries - and Gloria paused, craning her head to read one of them as she passed. She frowned in confusion, and glanced at Bede.

"What language is this?" she asked, sliding into a chair and depositing her bag on the floor.

Bede shut the door behind him and took a seat opposite her. "Kalosian," he said. He slid a notebook towards himself, the pages filled with his cursive script.

Gloria blinked at him. "I can't speak Kalosian."

"I assumed as much." Bede acted as though he was paying little attention to her, flipping open a dictionary with his right hand to thumb through the pages. He found the entry he was after, and held the page open with his fingers as he jotted down the translation in his workbook. Next to it, he detailed the correct pronunciation.

She watched him for a moment, confused, before grabbing one of the other books that were on the table, one that translated common Kalosian phrases. As her eyes trailed over the words, her brow furrowed more and more. Her lips twisted in thought. Lips that, a few days ago, Bede had felt against his own. He stole his gaze away quickly before she could notice that he was staring, before heat could rise up his neck and pool across his cheeks. He needed to focus. She'd only let him kiss her because he'd agreed that it wouldn't change anything between them, and he would uphold that, even as he desperately wished to kiss her again.

Damn it. Bede swallowed thickly, his mind vividly replaying that moment, from the sweet blush on Gloria's face as she closed her eyes, to how silken her hair had felt between his fingers, and the intoxicating sound that she'd made when he'd finally pulled away. That sound haunted him. A soft moan, felt against his lips as they'd parted, echoed in his mind as clearly as it had that day. He wondered what it would be like for her to say his name like that-

"Bede?"

Bede jolted, snapping the pencil in his hand. She gaped at him, at the wooden fragments between his fingers, in shock. Bede cleared his throat, tossing the broken pencil in the wastebasket beside him.

"Yes?" he answered her gruffly, his skin prickling as if all his nerves had come to life at once. So much for nothing changing between them- he couldn't get that kiss out of his mind, especially not with Gloria right in front of him.

"Uh…" Still a bit stunned, it took a moment for her to speak again. "What was the favour you wanted me here for?"

Right. The reason - the excuse - that he'd come up with in order to extend her visit for a while longer.

"I require someone to test my skills in Kalosian," he said. "That book you're holding details common phrases- as simple as it is to work through them myself, I need more of a challenge if I'm to achieve competency in Kalosian."

"Why Kalosian? Do you need it for a play or something?"

"If it was for a play, I'd be learning a script, not common phrases," Bede pointed out. "Kalos is our closest neighbour, and where the Fairy type was first discovered. That alone is enough of a reason to learn their language. I've also been advised that some of our most ardent fans are from Kalos- the kind of fans who may, perhaps, choose to sponsor us if we make a good enough impression the next time they visit."

Gloria nodded slowly. "How am I supposed to test you if I don't know the correct meaning, though? I don't think I can pronounce any of these!"

Bede resisted the urge to huff. She had a point. "I wouldn't be asking you to test me if I was so unsure of myself. All you need to do is point at a phrase, and I'll translate it. The answers are at the bottom, although I doubt I'll need them."

"So… you just want me to pick phrases for you to translate?"

"For now, yes."

It was a flimsy excuse. Bede could study Kalosian well enough on his own, and Gloria would be more distracting than helpful, but with the confusing moments they'd shared over the past few weeks, he longed to spend more time with her- especially if it meant getting closer to unravelling the conundrum that was Gloria.

"It'll be easier to point out phrases if I'm sitting next to you," she said, getting out of her seat before Bede could protest. He stiffened as she sat in the chair beside him, close enough that their arms almost brushed. For someone who had struggled to meet his eyes after they'd kissed, she had no issue with sitting so close to him days after the fact. Had she truly moved on so quickly? She glanced over at him and there it was- the infinitesimal widening of her eyes as she realised just how close they were sitting. Bede's heart lifted. Maybe he still had a chance.

Maybe, just maybe, he could win Gloria over one day.

Gloria almost turned to stone the second her eyes landed on Bede's. She'd jumped into the seat beside him without thinking, and was instantly taken back to that moment a few days ago, that moment where they'd sat side by side like this, where Bede's fingers had caressed her cheek. All she'd seen in the reflection of his violet eyes was herself, the cage around her heart falling away for the brief moment he'd kissed her. A jolt of warmth shot through her veins at the memory.

Don't think about that now! Gloria snapped at herself, tearing her eyes away from Bede's shapely lips, knowing very well how it had felt to have them meld against her own. Her lungs fluttered, leaving her to take a sharp breath, and she jabbed her finger at a sentence in Kalosian.

"What- What does this mean?" she asked.

Her heart pounded, and as Bede leant over to get a better look at the words she was pointing at, she shoved the book closer to him. His shoulder brushed hers, that slight contact bringing to the full force of her attention how it felt to have him so close. She felt dizzy and giddy at the same time. Unable to hear Bede's response despite the fact that he was close enough to be speaking into her ear.

As much as she'd pleaded with Bede to not let their kiss change anything between them, her heart had other ideas. The night after he'd kissed her, she hadn't slept at all. Whenever she had closed her eyes, the moment by the lake had come back to her. Now, every time she pursed her lips or chewed on a pen, she recalled the warmth of his lips. Every time she tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, she recalled the sweep of his fingers through her hair, the way his touch had sent a gentle shiver through her body. It made her delirious. Breathless. And her eyes kept trailing to his lips whenever he spoke. It was maddening. Frustrating. Her feelings towards Bede had only grown since he'd kissed her, even though they hadn't seen each other after that until today.

Gloria cleared her throat as subtly as she could, her mouth going dry, and she pointed to another phrase.

"This one?" she asked.

"That means, 'can you help me?'" Bede replied. "Pouvez-vous m’aider," he read aloud.

Gloria had no clue whether that was correct or not, as she rested her arm across the answers at the bottom of the page, but she nodded anyway.

"This one?"

"'Comment vous appelez-vous' means 'what is your name?'" Bede answered.

Gloria pointed to a different phrase. "And this one?"

"What's the time?"

"This one?"

"How are you?"

"This one?"

"I love you."

Gloria froze. Her mind stumbled, mouth hanging open as the words she was about to say got caught on her tongue. Heat blazed across her cheeks.

"That's- That's what it says," Bede said hastily. "'Je t'aime' means 'I love you.'"

"Right! Of course." Her voice came out as a squeak. "Th-That makes sense."

Nothing made sense to her now.

Bede cleared his throat. "Let's try some harder phrases," he suggested, reaching over to turn to the later pages of the book. Gloria yanked her hands to her sides, sitting as far back in her chair as she could, as Bede inevitably got closer to her as he flicked through the pages. A sweet smell reached her nose, making her draw in a deeper breath.

"You smell nice," Gloria said without thinking.

Bede stilled, looking at her in surprise.

"I, uh, assume it's you," Gloria added quickly. "There's a sweet smell in the air, I just noticed it."

Bede turned back to the book, having reached a page full of sentences for him to translate into Kalosian. Gloria leant forward to cover the answers with her arm again, still tasting that delicate scent on her tongue. It filled her lungs with every breath.

"That would be the perfume from our sponsors that you're smelling," Bede said. "We had a meeting with them earlier where they showcased their latest blends."

"It smells really nice," Gloria said, sighing faintly to herself. "Too bad perfume's exceedingly expensive. Even with my Champion's salary, I don't think I could justify buying it."

"If you like it so much, you can have the sample I was given," Bede said, "in exchange for your assistance today."

Gloria perked up. "Wait, really? Are you sure?"

The satisfied grin on Bede's face made her heart flutter. "That is, of course, if you don't mind smelling like me."

She gaped at him for a second, feeling herself flush. "Why- Why would I mind?"

"No reason," he said with a shrug. "Although, people might begin to talk if you go around smelling like me."

"Talk about what?"

"About what exactly the Champion of Galar was doing with Ballonlea's Gym Leader in order for his perfume to get all over her."

Gloria sucked in a sharp breath as Bede's insinuation hit her in the chest. The smirk on his face set her nerves alight, her mind already conjuring images fueled by their kiss a few days ago. Bede's close proximity to her now did nothing to help.

"They- They wouldn't think that!" Gloria protested.

"Are you sure about that?" He turned to face her completely, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "All anyone saw was you following me into this storage room. We've been in here a while already, and there is a lock on the door if, perhaps, the occupants wanted some privacy…"

Gloria shot a glance towards the door. Her heart wedged in her throat, blood roaring through her veins.

"After all, we've already kissed twice-"

She slapped her hands across Bede's mouth before he could say anything more. His shock quickly turned to annoyance, and he took hold of her wrists to pull her hands away.

"Don't- Don't mention that…!" Gloria hissed, glaring at him as her cheeks burned. She fought his attempts to tug her hands off his mouth. "You need to forget that ever happened!"

Despite Bede's obvious displeasure at being silenced, he raised an eyebrow at her as if to say her demand was ridiculous. She knew it was, but couldn't bear to have Bede mention what happened between them out loud. The mere thought of their kiss was dangerous enough by itself.

Bede's expression changed, shifting from irritation to one she couldn't read, and in the next moment, he tugged Gloria towards him by her wrists. Pulled from her chair, she ended up practically on Bede's lap, one of her knees wedged between his thighs, and her bark of protest died in her throat at the feeling of Bede pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. His lips were soft yet firm. Sweet warmth scorched her skin, making her pulse spike beneath his kiss, and he held her gaze, looking deep into her eyes over the top of her wrist.

An incoherent noise fled Gloria's lungs. "Wh-Wh-What are you-?!" She broke off into a squeak as Bede grazed his teeth over her pulse. She jolted away from him, tearing her arms free, and fell backwards over her chair to crash to the floor. She scrambled to sit up, holding her wrist protectively to her chest. Ignoring the pain thrumming from her shoulders, her back, and her legs from her fall.

"Sorry," Bede said, shifting the chair she'd toppled over to the side. His smile carried no amusement, eyes softening with regret, and he offered her his hand. "I didn't realise you'd react so strongly. I was merely trying to prevent you from silencing me so forcefully again. It's not exactly polite to smother someone's mouth when they're speaking."

"It-It's not polite to k-kiss someone's wrist either!" Gloria squawked at him. She glanced suspiciously between his hand and his face, trying to read his expression.

"I assure you I won't kiss you again," Bede said. A hint of a smile played on his lips, and she went to accept his hand. "Unless you want me to, that is."

Before Gloria could tug her hand back, Bede pulled her to her feet, and she ended up standing right in front of him. Barely a breath remained between them.

"I-I don't," Gloria said in a voice that didn't sound like her- like a whisper, breathless and light.

Bede looked into her eyes for a moment longer. "That's a shame," he said, before returning to his seat. The teasing lilt of his voice sent her heart racing again, and she huffed, as though incredulous. As though a part of her didn't want him to kiss her again.

A part of her that was getting smaller and smaller every day.

"Are you alright, by the way?" he asked as she sat beside him. "That was a pretty impressive fall."

Gloria gave a sheepish laugh. She still felt flustered from the way he'd kissed her wrist- her stacking it was inconsequential.

"That was nothing," she said. "I'll be fine."

Bede glanced at her. The amusement that had played in his eyes had all but faded. "I see."

"What?"

He looked away. "It's nothing." A moment later, he said, "you don't need to stay any longer. I believe I can manage the rest by myself."

Gloria's heart plopped into her stomach. It felt like he'd knocked the wind out of her chest.

"Are you sure? Don't you want me to test you…?"

Bede flipped open the dictionary again, a pen in his left hand, returning to the notebook he'd written in earlier. A few empty seconds ticked by.

"It will be better for me to study in silence," Bede said finally.

Gloria stood. She stepped around him as her throat tightened, and snatched her bag off the floor.

"Right." Heat built behind her eyes. She forced it down, forced her walls back in place. Forced a layer of cold steel around her heart.

Bede didn't look at her.

"I'll… just go, then," she said, unable to hide the hardness of her voice, and marched for the door. Gloria didn't look back once as the world blurred around her beneath a wave of tears.

Once again, Gloria fled from the Fairy Gym as she began to cry. Once again, her mind raced with thoughts. Why had Bede suddenly pushed her away like that? What had she done wrong?

Why did it hurt so much?

She knew why. It was love. The one thing she despised, the one thing she feared above all else. It opened her heart up to injuries she'd never faced before. The slightest rebuff from Bede left her wounded, as though his words, him merely turning away from her, had cut into her flesh.

She was pathetic. Weak. Vulnerable.

That was what love did to a person.

And she hated it. She hated being in love with Bede. It spoiled their friendship, tarnished each and every interaction they had. Even her memories were tainted now, coated in a different light, permanently changed. It twisted everything Bede said.

Despite the joy being in love brought her, Gloria wished she could tear out her heart and throw it away, before she did something she regretted.

Before it was too late.

Gloria marched through Ballonlea until she was out of sight by the entrance to the Glimwood Tangle, and reached into her bag. She dug out her Corviknight's Pokeball, ready to flee. Someone caught her wrist. She turned instinctively, tears spilling from her eyes before she could blink them away. Bede stood before her, breathless, his hand around the wrist that held her Pokeball. The Galarian cuff he wore around his wrist brushed against her skin. The bracelet she'd given him.

"What-?" She gaped at Bede in shock. He frowned at her, lips twisting in frustration, as he caught his breath.

"You're crying," he said. Confused. Concerned. A myriad of emotions flashed behind his eyes.

Gloria swiped the tears off her cheeks with her free hand. "So?" she huffed.

"I'm-" Bede started, fumbling over his words. He took a breath. "That's because of me, isn't it?"

Gloria said nothing. Her chest, her lungs, her heart, burned with a fire of indignation.

His expression fell. Her silence gave him the answer he was looking for, and he let her wrist drop. Gloria held tight to her Pokeball, but didn't send her Corviknight out. Not yet.

She hadn't expected him to follow her.

"You're not alright, are you?" Bede asked. He exhaled softly, casting his gaze aside. "Look, I… didn't mean to hurt you. I went too far. I'm sorry."

Gloria sniffled. Her tears began to fade, and she let herself study Bede for a moment. The regret in his eyes looked sincere, despite him getting the reason why she was crying wrong. She was so surprised by the whole situation, she didn't know how to reply. He hadn't realised how brushing her aside was what had wounded her, not him teasing her by kissing her wrist, not her falling backwards over her chair. The ache in her heart thrummed over her bruised muscles.

"Here," Bede said, holding out a small crystal bottle in his hand. It was shaped like a pair of delicate wings, a matching stopper at the top.

Gloria pocketed her Corviknight's Pokeball so she could accept it, and stared at the bottle in awe before realising what it was. "Is this the perfume…?"

"You said you liked the way it smelled, so…" Bede shrugged. "Take it as an apology. For hurting you."

Gloria's mouth dropped open with a protest she couldn't voice, her heart squeezing tight. Instead, she cradled the bottle close to her heart.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I accept your apology."

Bede nodded stiffly, still not facing her. The hurt, the regret, reflected in his eyes made her act on impulse, drawn by the desire to soften the pain he was feeling, and she stepped close to him, rising up on her toes.

And Bede turned to face her in that very second.

Gloria shot back with a squeak, almost dropping the perfume bottle as she slapped her hands over her mouth. Her lips tingled and burned.

"I-I didn't mean to-!" she stammered.

Bede stared at her in absolute shock, his eyes going wide, before he looked away hurriedly. He coughed into his hand and flushed to the tips of his ears. It had only been for a split second, but their lips had definitely met. Again.

"Of course. I know you didn't," Bede said, his voice cracking as he spoke.

Gloria stared at her feet as she blushed darkly, feeling her whole body burn with a dizzying heat. "I-I was going to kiss your cheek," she explained. "As- As a thank you. For the perfume…"

And she'd ended up kissing him on the lips instead.

"I-I see." Bede looked just as embarrassed as she felt.

"Please, can we… pretend this never happened…?" she asked, knowing it wasn't so simple. She wouldn't be able to forget this kiss, as accidental and brief as it was.

"Of course." He nodded quickly. "It was an accident, after all."

"Y-Yeah."

An accident that she couldn't wholy regret. Something stirred inside her, a longing to do that again, to kiss him properly this time, and she stamped it out quickly. As nice as it was to kiss Bede, they were friends. He didn't like her in that way.

Although… he had been the one to offer to kiss her the other day…

Gloria shook that thought away. She wanted to quash her feelings for Bede, not fuel them!

"I… I should get going," Gloria said.

"Not on your own Corviknight, I hope." Bede raised an eyebrow at her, and she looked away sheepishly. "Let me call you a Taxi."

"Thanks." She gave him a sheepish, but grateful, smile. As Bede ordered a Sky Taxi, the pain in Gloria's heart settled. Standing next to him, enjoying his presence, didn't feel so bad. She didn't mind passing the time with him, even if it meant doing something as mundane as waiting for a Sky Taxi together.

Her impatience faded. The softening of her heart felt so natural, she couldn't place when it was she had begun to feel like this towards him. When, exactly, she had fallen in love with him.

Perhaps untangling and discarding her feelings towards Bede would be more difficult than she'd thought.

#bederia week 2021 #bederia #dressedinpinkshipping #bede #gloria #btyu

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pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer · 3 years

Text

Right of Law, Section XXVII

(Zaekura meets again with the Le-Koronans, while the situation surrounding Civitas Magna’s kolhii tournament begins to escalate.)

“Everyone will be so happy to see you!” Tamaru said as she bounced down the path. “We were all worried sick!”

Zaekura walked a few steps behind her, flanked by Charla, Antroz, and Emsar. “Yeah, dealing with Atero wasn’t exactly easy, but we managed. I’m hoping it’ll go a little smoother when we have to take the fight to them.”

Tamaru hummed. “That’d be nice...you controlling Atero. Ah, here we are!”

They arrived in a clearing lined with scores of people: Matoran, Toa, Glatorian, and Agori of all kinds, some on solid ground while others perched in the surrounding trees, creating a circular wall of eyes all trained on the visitors. Zaekura felt like she was trying to walk underwater.

“Okay, everyone’s here! Go on, Zaekura.”

“Right, of course. Um…”

She found herself unable to recall the words she had prepared. Charla set a hand on her shoulder then, reminding her to breathe, and she was able to relax a little.

“First of all,” Zaekura said, “I’d like to thank you all for welcoming us. It isn’t lost on me how out of the ordinary this gesture is, nor the implicit risk my being here carries. My name is Zaekura. Up until recently, I lived a very quiet life...but now, the Great Beings have it out for me, since I’m one of the rare few who possess the same potential as them. I’ve had to fight to defend myself, and it’s been…quite an adjustment. But now I realize this isn’t just about me. Countless lives have been destroyed by the Great Beings, and countless more live in constant fear of them. And I want that to end. So now, we’re fighting to stop the Great Beings and take control of Spherus Magna, to reform it into a place where nobody has to live in fear.”

Quiet murmurings rippled through the crowd. To Zaekura, it was nearly deafening.

“I know that I can’t do something like this on my own, so I’m asking for help from anyone who’ll listen. We’ve approached you because we think Bota Magna’s natural resources would be a big help to our cause, but if anyone wants to join the fight, we’ll gladly take you. No matter what, though, I want you all to know this: you are welcome any time. Even if I go back empty-handed, each and every one of you will be free to come and go from my territory as you please, and we’ll fight just as hard to defend you. I don’t need anything in return for that.”

The chattering grew louder. Kiina emerged from the crowd then, saying, “You say you’ll defend us? How do you plan to do that? You’re provoking the Great Beings, fighting nonstop against an insurmountable enemy. That doesn’t sound safe in the slightest.”

Zaekura breathed. “I understand your concern. There will absolutely be risk, I won’t deny that. Our current forces include several Makuta, a few hundred Rahkshi, the militia of both Xia and Mahri-Nui, and a large number of Vorox under the command of the Sand Lord. Several individuals have already requested to be part of a team dedicated to protecting Bota Magna, if you’ll have them.”

Kiina grumbled—not a very clear response, but it was the only one she offered. Taipu was next to emerge, waving and calling, “Hey, Zaekura! Did you get a chance to try out Nuparu’s invention yet?”

She smiled. “I was able to take a look at it and test it out. That’s one impressive machine! We’re still working to reproduce and install them, but we should be using it in a matter of days. Thanks again, Nuparu.”

Taipu shook Nuparu, who tried to hide his grin. Zaekura waited while the chatter continued. Soon, Takua came forward, saying, “I can’t speak for everyone, but...I think you make a pretty good case, Zaekura. The fact is, we are living in fear—I don’t think that’ll change much whether we stay here or come back to the city. Being that close to the fight is definitely scary, so I understand why someone might prefer to stay here. But, a chance to change things, to make a future where we don’t feel like we have to hide...that sounds pretty good too. If you show me a team that I’m convinced can keep Bota Magna safe, I’ll be willing to fight alongside you.”

New energy rushed into Zaekura. “Thank you! I’ll bring them out to meet with you as soon as possible!”

The Le-Koronans talked amongst themselves. Taipu and Nuparu came into the clearing, the former saying, “We’re definitely coming back with you! This is so exciting!”

Gradually, more and more Le-Koronans followed suite. One of them, a Toa of Earth with weathered black and purple armor, came up to Zaekura and smiled at her.

“I can tell that you have a good heart, dear,” she said. “I’m a bit too attached to these woods to leave now, but I want to offer you what help I can.”

“Oh, thank you very much, uh…”

“The name’s Korgot, dear. I’ve become very familiar with the lay of the land here, so if you’re looking for spots to mine or to log, I’ve got a few in mind. Just promise me you won’t overdo it. The people are important, but we have to take care of the jungle itself, too.”

“Korgot. Yes, I promise. Thank you so much!”

They briefly discussed when would be a good time to send a mining team, and then Zaekura answered the questions of a few more Le-Koronans until it seemed everyone’s decision had been made. She gazed over them all, ultimately turning to Charla.

“I’d say this went well.”

Charla giggled. “I’m inclined to agree. Is there anything more you wanted to add, or do we just have that final matter?”

Zaekura glanced back at Emsar, and the Vortixx came to her side. Turning back towards the Le-Koronans remaining behind, she said, “There’s one last thing before we go. I wanted to let you know that Emsar here is venturing deeper into Bota Magna; she’ll be fine on her own, I just didn’t want anyone to be surprised if they saw her.”

Takua looked up at Emsar. “Alright. Where’s she headed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Valwahi.”

The clearing grew eerily still. Quietly, Takua repeated, “Valwahi?”

Zaekura nodded. “Like I said, I’m asking anyone who’ll listen.”

“Do you think they will? The Valwahans aren’t exactly the most understanding bunch.”

“I have to try. Even if we can’t become allies, maybe I can at least make peace with them—that’d be one huge load off my plate when getting things in order once this is all over. Though, I could be thinking a little far ahead with that...”

“Heh...I guess a little optimism doesn’t have to hurt.” Facing Emsar, Takua said, “Good luck, then. Don’t hesitate to ask for help if things go wrong.”

“Much appreciated, but you needn’t worry about me,” Emsar said. “I’m quite prepared should events take a dire turn.”

The Le-Koronans began to scatter, as did Emsar. Antroz said, “Emsar. Please do be careful.”

She grinned back at her. “You too, Makuta? I thought you of all people would know better. Your lack of faith in me is demoralizing.”

“It is precisely because I have faith in you that I’m letting you go alone. This is something that only you can do.”

Emsar paused, then turned away. “Hmhm...you’re still no fun.” She disappeared before anything else could be said.

Zaekura turned back to her party, now far larger than the one she had entered with. “Alright. Let’s get everyone back to Xia!”

“Um…”

She realized Tamaru had come up behind her. “What’s up?”

Tamaru fidgeted, eyes scanning back and forth over the dirt. “I, uh...I’ve been giving it a lot of thought...I didn’t say anything before because I hadn’t really decided, but now, I…” She shut her eyes tight. “I-I want to come with you!”

“Really? If you need more time to think, that’s okay.”

Tamaru shook her head. “No...I need to go before I lose my nerve. I mean, I am nervous, but...if I can really be myself around everyone...I guess I feel like I just have to know.”

Zaekura nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. Are you ready to go?”

After taking one last look back into the jungle, Tamaru nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go!”

***

Hewkii raced down the field, battling for control of the ball with a Toa of Earth. He pulled back his kolhii stick; the Toa of Earth, expecting him to knock the ball forward, shifted his weight to block. Hewkii then swung his stick around, hit the ball back the way they had come, and immediately leapt back to scoop it up.

“The Hydruka’s Hewkii has finally wrested the ball away from Dosne! He’s headed right for Kazi, and the Iconox Iron Wolves’ goalie sure doesn’t look ready for him!”

Hewkii carefully observed the Toa of Ice he needed to aim around. Kazi was laser-focused, but stiff in his movements. He could hear Dosne approaching—at the last second, he threw the ball with all the force he could muster, and it sailed just past Kazi to the cheers of the crowd.

In a special balcony high up the arena’s wall, Ekimu laughed at the spectacle. “That Hewkii’s pretty good! Maybe I shouldn’t kill him after all.”

Standing next to him, Ahkmou chuckled. He busied himself jotting down notes for an article, but his thoughts were elsewhere. This is the opposite of what I wanted. The tournament was supposed to distract these common idiots from the rebellion, but everyone’s heard that Hewkii’s defected—with him center stage, I’m sure it’s all they’re thinking about!

He joined Ekimu’s cheer as another ball was set into play.

Sure, no one’s stupid enough to speak out while Lord Ekimu is right here, but that’s ignoring the bigger picture. This is long-term, delicate work. If I don’t think of something fast, it’s all going to go right down the drain…

Hewkii leapt in to intercept Dosne’s shot. Swinging around, he then sent the ball flying back across the court, catching Kazi completely by surprise. The crowd roared.

“Incredible!” the announcer cried. “The Mahri-Nui Hydruka have won by a landslide! Looks like they’ll be moving onto the next round, folks! I know I don’t want to be the team unlucky enough to go up against them!”

Ekimu applauded with the crowd, but his hands steadily fell still. “Alright, game’s over. You can come out now.”

Ahkmou looked over his shoulder, expecting to see one of the Makuta coming to join them. But he couldn’t quite make out what he was looking at. The shadows in the balcony moved strangely, almost as if they had a will of their own, refusing to surrender the visitor to the light; all Ahkmou could see clearly was an organic purple face with numerous ridges over where a nose and mouth should have been. Confused and terrified at the sight, Ahkmou could only remain silent.

“Forgive the intrusion, Lord Ekimu,” the face said. “We wanted to consult with you, to clarify our orders before acting.”

Ekimu continued to watch the field as the two teams exited. “Who are you?”

“I am Eliminator, of Odina. The Keeper’s realized that the operatives sent previously failed to carry out Lord Heremus’s orders, so my partner and I have been dispatched to rectify the situation.”

“So that’s it. You want Hewkii, I take it?”

Eliminator’s face moved, the shadows moving with it. “He seemed like a good place to start...but, since you haven’t intervened thus far, we suspected you had another plan.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I just don’t want the kolhii tournament interrupted. Once his team’s done, take him if you want.”

Ahkmou jumped as a sudden burst of energy appeared in the space next to Eliminator. The energy grew into a swirling portal, and out of it stepped another being: he was tall, at least twice the height of a Matoran, clad in blue and gold armor that shone through the darkness that clung to his companion. Ahkmou didn’t recognize the gold mask he wore, but he found his eyes more drawn to the enormous double blade he carried.

Kneeling, he said, “If I may, Lord Ekimu. I think there is a much more fruitful route we can take.”

Ekimu grunted.

“Once the tournament has concluded, we will see that Hewkii and his team remain here in Civitas Magna...and be sure that the whole planet knows it. I have heard that Zaekura is quite the bleeding heart, and I am certain that if she knows one of her allies is being held here, she will march in an effort to save him. Once we have lured her in, Eliminator and I will capture her and bring her to Lord Heremus—what happens to her associates will be no concern of ours then.”

“So we bait her out. What was your name?”

The being grinned. “I am Brutaka, my lord.”

At this, Ekimu finally turned around. After staring at Brutaka for a few moments, he said, “I thought you sounded familiar. Good. If you’re here, then the Keeper must be done messing around.”

The crowd began to cheer as new teams took the field.

“Go ahead,” Ekimu said as he turned back to watch. “As long as you don’t make a move before the tournament’s over, I couldn’t care less.”

Brutaka nodded. “Of course, Lord Ekimu. If you’ll excuse us.”

Another portal opened, and Brutaka disappeared into it. Eliminator was already gone by the time Ahkmou turned to look. Facing the field once again, the Toa thought, Odinans...and they’re going to draw Zaekura here...how am I going to cover that up? Can our public opinion survive something like this? If we lose control of the people…

“Ahkmou.”

The Toa started. “Y-Yes, my lord?”

“You’re nervous.”

“Ah...I was just shaken by such a sudden arrival. I’m sorry, my lord: I’ll focus on my job.”

“Good.”

Ahkmou watched as two new teams met in the center of the field. If we lose control of the people...then that means I failed to do what the Great Beings asked. What will happen to me then?

Outside the stadium, Gaaki and Tarduk regrouped near the south entrance. Flipping through her notes, Gaaki said, “Well, that should be enough of a sample size. Any favorites among the people you asked?”

Tarduk squatted next to the wall with a sigh. “The Hydruka are the talk of the town, surprise surprise. Remains to be seen if Ahkmou will even let us publish all this.”

“Same on my end. A couple of die-hards for the other teams, but they hardly have enough to say to fill a feature. A full day’s work and we’re probably going to end up with a block under the horoscopes…”

Tarduk craned his neck. A particularly dense section of crowd had gathered on the other side of the street, thick enough that he couldn’t see exactly what had drawn them. He went to push his way closer, Gaaki following for lack of any other distraction, but the Ga-Matoran soon began to fall behind. Glancing back at her, Tarduk saw that her eyes had gone wide.

“What’s the matter?” Tarduk asked.

“You mean you don’t…” She shook her head. “Er, right, you can’t see from here. Come on!”

Gaaki dove into the crowd. Tarduk began to have second thoughts, but, figuring it was too late now, went in after her. At the epicenter was a Toa of Stone wearing a Komau, with various stone carvings laid out before him on a blanket. The sign behind him made the Agori stiffen: “CARVINGS FOR SALE! ALL PROFITS HELP NYNRAHN REFUGEES!”

“Gaaki,” Tarduk said, grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m just looking,” she said, picking up a small carving.

“With your hands?”

“Yes.”

The Toa of Stone turned towards them. “Anything you’re interested in?” Gaaki set the carving down. “Just browsing. This is impressive work, uh…”

“Onewa.”

“Onewa...oh, you made the statue they added to District 2458’s historical center!”

“So someone does remember! Maybe that commission was worth it after all.” He turned away for a moment to make a sale.

“What brings you here?” Tarduk asked.

“I’m an old friend of one of the players in the tourney. You know Hewkii?”

Tarduk stiffened further. “...I’ve heard quite a lot about him.”

“We go way back. Though, I ended up not being able to get a ticket...but, at least I have a chance to sell some of this work. We need all the help we can get.”

Gaaki prepared to ask something. Tarduk tugged on her arm. She debated continuing anyway, but then the crowd began to quiet, and they both turned to see why. Their spines turned to ice at the sight of Vamprah cutting through the masses.

“Ah,” Onewa said, climbing to his feet, “that took longer than expected. Not the Makuta I was prepared for, either.”

Vamprah stalked forward without a word. Just as Onewa was about to say something more, the Makuta snatched him up in his claws and hurled him against the arena wall. Total stillness fell over the crowd. Turning to the remaining carvings, Vamprah waved one hand and unleashed a burst of Plasma, melting them in a matter of seconds. Then, he turned around to see Onewa slowly getting to his feet.

“Heh...you live up to your reputation,” the Toa said. Blood could be seen dripping from the gashes left in his armor. “Guess that’s what I get for pushing my luck, huh?”

Vamprah advanced towards him again. Tarduk struggled to keep Gaaki still.

“But...I’m not gonna make it that easy for you.” Onewa took something in his hand, a pellet of some kind, and grinned as he crushed it. In the next instant, he was gone.

Vamprah froze. He scanned his surroundings, but saw no trace of his target. Giving one last look to the crowd, Vamprah unfurled his wings and took to the skies, slowly coasting towards the inner city. Gradually, the crowd scattered, while Gaaki just stood staring at the still-warm slag that had been beautiful carvings mere seconds ago.

“He got out,” Tarduk said.

“Yeah...this time. But with Vamprah hunting the Nynrahns, their chances look pretty bleak, don’t they?”

Tarduk sighed. “What can we actually do, Gaaki? If we step out of line, we’re going to disappear just like Kodan.”

“I know!” Gaaki turned and rubbed her temples. After a bit of thought, she said, “Tarduk...don’t tell Ahkmou we were here to see this.”

The Agori raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Gaaki locked eyes with him. “Please, just don’t. He can’t know. If he does...then nobody else will.”

It took Tarduk a long time to decide on his answer. “Alright. But there’s nothing else I can do to help you, Gaaki. Terrible as things are getting, I just don’t see an opening yet…”

Gaaki nodded. They parted ways then, Tarduk heading into the stadium while Gaaki found a secluded bench to rest on. She glanced around, making sure no one was looking, and then pulled at the corner of her breastplate, opening it just long enough to remove a small crystal she quickly tucked into her bag.

A few witnesses are easy to dismiss. But if everyone sees what happened, then at the very least they’ll have to work a lot harder to lie. I’ll need to be careful about exactly what footage I use...but by this time tomorrow, I’ll make sure everyone can see the truth.

#Bionicle #fanfiction #Melding Universe #Right of Law

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xoluvx · 5 years

Text

Peter From Chemistry - P.PxReader

Warning: initial fluff, but some smut at the end & swearing

Summary: You meet a cute boy in your chemistry class & though he seems to be interested, nothing really come out of it. Until he texts you one night asking if he can come over. Oh and did I mention? You’re both hiding something.

Word Count: 3.5K

Alright, so this stemmed from a personal experience. Obviously my person wasn’t Peter Parker and they were definitely no Spider-Man. BUT I thought it’d make for a cool Peter imagine. & there’s nothing better than pulling from personal experience. Also kinda had a hard time figuring out how to end, so enjoy or whateva!

You stumbled into the cold classroom, gripping the strap of your backpack lazily resting on your shoulder. Your eyes shifted to the clock hanging on the wall. 9:02am. Shit, you were late. Two minutes, but still late. All the seats were taken and now you were awkwardly standing there trying not to cause a scene.

“Nice of you to join us, please take a seat.” Too late.

You searched the room for an empty seat and quickly made your way to an empty stool. The only empty stool. You dropped your backpack on the floor, settling down into the seat. You briefly made eye contact with the boy sitting across from you. It was obvious he was trying hard not to acknowledge you, spare you some embarrassment for walking in late, but his brown eyes caught yours for a second. His lips forming a tight line smile.

The first day of classes always sucked. Syllabi were thrown around; awkward icebreakers were always a must and there were always those uncomfortable silences amongst strangers. You were done with the buffoonery. But alas here you were flipping through the four-page packet compromised of your chemistry course calendar, assignments, and tasks for the next few weeks.

The voice of your professor faded in and out as you skimmed the classroom. You could probably count the number of women in the room with one hand. Your professor being one of them.

You were quickly pulled out of your trance when you heard the professor say, “Okay so please give your name, major, year and why you’re taking this course.” You tried really hard not to roll your eyes. Didn’t professors have any better ice breaker? Better yet, couldn’t they skip it all together? You weren’t here to make friends, you just needed to pass.

You leaned your head on the palm of your hand as you hear people introducing themselves. You really couldn’t care less, until the boy - that one with the big doe eyes and tight line smile - started speaking. He cleared his throat, furrowing his brows. “Um, my name is Peter. I’m a first year undeclared.” The teacher, whose arms were folded, nodded her head. “Why are you taking this course, Peter?”

You watch the boy fumble on the stool, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. “Considering a chemistry minor,” he said giving her a small smile. You tried hard not to smirk, glancing at the dorky pun t-shirt he was wearing; this kid did not look like he needed the course.

Now it was your turn. Having been through this same ice breaker for multiple classes, you were quick. “My name is Y/n. Second year, electrical engineering and physics double major. Minor in chemistry. Taking this course for my minor.”

You felt everyone’s eyes fixate on you. You were used to it. The only pair of eyes that mattered were those of the boy across from you whose mouth had fallen open absorbing in the information. You looked at him briefly, noticing his brows furrowed, one of them unruly. You looked away and towards the professor giving her an awkward smile. “Great, impressive y/n,” she said motioning towards the next student.

That’s how the class went for the next hour and forty-five minutes. It was pure torture. After a painstaking review of the course, the syllabus and the expectations, the teacher closed the class with a quick explanation of the final project.

Final project? You thought to yourself. On cue the professor spoke. “I know the final project is ways out, but this is going to be a partner project so I am giving you the opportunity now to start thinking of who you want to partner with. This is worth 45% of your grade. Partner choices need to be emailed to me by this Sunday. Class dismissed.”

You sighed softly taking in the information, the room quickly engulfed in chatter. People were already busy finding a partner, jotting down numbers, exchanging details. Most of the people here looked like they knew each other. You, never straying from your group of friends and keeping your circles separate, had no idea who you were going to partner with.

As people started exiting the room, you hopped off your stool, grabbing your backpack from the floor. You swung it over your shoulder pulling your phone from its side pocket looking through your texts: roommates wanting to meet up for an early lunch.

You opened the classroom door, ready to leave when you felt a faint touch on your shoulder. You flinched turning to face whoever had touched you. It was the boy. You’d almost forgotten about him.

You walked out of the room, him following close behind. “You want to be partners?” He asked holding tight to the straps of his backpack as he walked next to you. You looked away from your feet to look at him. He had a look you couldn’t quite read. Expecting? Nervous?

You tugged a piece of hair behind your ear and shrugged. “Sure,” you say calmly. Though inside you were freaking relieved you didn’t have to go out of your way to find a partner. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he was cute.

You see him struggle to get his phone out of his hoodie pocket. Fingers fumbling with the material. You try to restrain a laugh, but a small noise slips through your lips. He finally gets a hold of his phone and pulls up a new contact card. He nervously hands you the phone, cheeks burning from the incident.

You smile, typing your phone number into his phone along with your name. You save the information and hand his phone back before turning on your heel. You keep your face turned to him as you walk away. “I’ll see Thursday,” you say throwing him a small smile before turning your back on him, making your way towards the dining hall where you were meeting your roommates.

Peter stood there, phone in his hand, watching you walk away. He watched as your hair bounced ever so slightly with every step you took. He looked down at his phone, a big goofy smile spreading across his face.

You were sprawled across your couch after lunch with your roommates. Hands resting on your belly as you watched one of your roommates working on the coffee table.

Chemistry was the only class you had today, now you had to wait two days to see the cute boy again. You debated whether or not to tell your roommates knowing they’d tease you. He was only a freshman, after all.

Noticing the sudden silence, your roommate looked up putting her pencil down. “What’s on your mind?” she asked. You looked down at her, one of your fingers twirling a piece of your hair. You couldn’t keep the information to yourself any longer, it was just begging to burst out of your chest.

“There’s this cute guy in my class,” you say, mind drifting to thoughts of the boy.

Your roommate quickly got up pushing your legs off the couch so she could sit. “Okay, tell me more!” She pried resting her face in her hand, resting on the couch’s arm chair. “I mean there’s not much to tell. He’s in my chemistry class. We’re partners.” You see her eyes light up mouthing partners using air quotes. You kick her leg, rolling your eyes. “Stop, he’s like super innocent looking.” You say sighing thinking of how awkward he was when asking you to be partners.

Your conversation came to a halt when your phone vibrated. It was resting on the coffee table. Quickly reaching for it, you noticed you’d received a text … from an unsaved number. Curious, you opened the text notification.

‘Hey, it’s Peter. Peter from chemistry.’

You gulped, a small smile forming on your lips. You flashed the phone towards your roommate. “Peter from chemistry,” you say testing how the words sounded slipping off your tongue. Your roommate raised her eyebrows giving you a small joking silent clap. You laugh and look down at your phone, debating what you should say. You settle on a simple Hey.

‘Do we have homework for Thursday?’

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. You knew this was just a ploy to talk to you because the syllabus had all the homework assignments for the rest of the quarter.

‘No homework :)’

Your reply was short and sweet. The three daunting dots popped up on the bottom of the screen and disappeared just as fast. You sighed putting your phone down.

You slipped on to the same stool as the last time you were in this room. This time, you were 20 minutes early. Excessive, yes, but you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself again. You were immersed in your phone, scrolling through social media when you heard the screeching of a stool being pulled out in front of you.

You tried hard not to look up, but not able to resist you quickly glanced up from your phone. Your eyes met Peter’s. He gave you a small smile as he lowered his backpack to the ground. “Hey,” he says playing with his hands now resting on the table. “Hi,” you reply.

You’re not going to lie and pretend like you weren’t hurt by the fact that he never texted you back. You spent all day that Tuesday and the following day wondering if he was going to text back. He never did. Now you kind of resented him for it. He clearly knew you had no homework, yet he went out of his way to try to start a conversation and left you high and dry.

The rest of the class didn’t go any better. The professor lectured. There were awkward glances between you and Peter. Uncomfortable silences when the professor asked your table to “discuss”. You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

‘Can I come over?’

The text that flashed on your phone screen as you laid in bed made your heart skip a beat. It fluttered and you feel the thumping all the way up at the side of your face that laid on the pillows. You opened the text, watching the familiar three dot bubble pop up.

They appeared and disappeared and you wondered what he could be typing.

It’d been a few weeks since that awkward incident. By this point, you and Peter had pushed past the awkwardness focusing on the reason you had his number in the first place. The final project. Yeah, you’d gotten to know a few details of his life (as much as he’d let out), but there been no significant moments that made you believe he was into you.

Until now.

‘I want to see you.’

The second text made your fingers cold. The thumping of your heart picked up its speed and your hand could hardly hold on to your phone. But they did, long enough for you to drop a pin and a simple ‘text me when you’re here’.

It hadn’t been more than five minutes when you received a text from the boy letting you know that he was outside. How the hell did he get here so fast? You wondered. He lived on campus, the house you shared with your roommates was a good few minutes’ walk from the dorms.

You struggled to get out of bed, the nerves of meeting him outside of class. At night. It was too much for you. You were a confident person, yeah. But this boy just seemed to make you all mush all the time.

Grabbing a grip of yourself, you pushed your body off the bed. Feet making instant contact with the cold floor, sending shivers up your spine. In the attempt of mentally preparing yourself to greet Peter, you’d forgotten to change into something “visitor friendly”. Your large t-shirt fell mid-thigh barely hiding your small athletic shorts that clung to every nook and cranny of your behind.

You tugged on the bottom of the shirt pulling it down.

‘It’s kinda cold out here’

You blushed reading the text, feeling bad you’d taken so long. You rushed down the hall and towards the door. When you opened the door, Peter had his hands deep within the pockets of his jeans. The flimsy material of his navy-blue jacket hardly shielding him from the cold.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize opening the door wide enough to let him in. He brushed past you blowing air up to his upper lip and nose trying to get warm. You felt your body tingle at the slightly bit of contact you had made with the side of his arm.

You’d also completely forgotten about your outfit until Peter had settled into your house his eyes lingering. His eyes shifted from your bare thighs up to fabric that poorly covered your breasts. You folded your arms, clearing your throat before guiding Peter to your room. You were too afraid your roommates might walk out at any instance.

He nervously followed, playing with the zipper of his jacket. When you’d reach the door of your room, you turned back to Peter giving him a small nervous smile. Peter cleared his throat, stepping into your sacred land.

“You can sit,” you spoke in a soft voice patting the space next to you on the bed. Peter rubbed his hands together, still cold. Yet, he removed his jacket revealing his toned arms in a tight shirt. One you’d never seen before. You bit the inside of your lip, your throat suddenly dry.

Peter slid his body next to yours, his hands crossed on his lap. There’d been zero physical contact, but somehow this felt very intimate. There was a silence, not awkward, between the two of you. It was soon filled with the rustling of your covers moving under your body as you shifted your weight. Peter cleared his throat shifting his eyes to meet your gaze.

“So… you wanted to see me?” you ask, the awkwardness now settling in.

You didn’t feel awkward being in his presence. You felt awkward that he seemed to be the one to always make the first move, but never followed through. Not but ten minutes ago he was asking to come over, stating he wanted to see you. You’d caught a glimpse of the confident Peter you hoped was deep inside, but now he was sitting at the foot of your bed playing his fingers nervously.

“I – I just …” For someone who was wicked smart, he couldn’t articulate a coherent thought. Your hand rested on the exposed skin of your thigh watching Peter’s lips move nervously.

Peter’s eyes were fixated on you. Yours were fixated on his lips watching his bottom lip quivered as you inched closer. There was an obvious attraction. An unexplainable pull. Two forces destined to be together. The beating of your heart became louder and obvious as your body neared Peter’s, who was now matching your own movements.

You brushed your nose against Peter’s, familiarizing yourself with his breathing. He tilted his head, your lips brushing ever so slightly before pulling away to brush your nose. You gulped; the anticipation too high. The hand that was resting on your thigh moved to hold on to Peter’s arm feeling the way his bicep flexed when he felt your delicate touch.

His lips were parted, inches from yours. You were so close you were practically exchanging breaths. He’d exhale and you’d inhale. Peter brought his right hand to the back of your neck, massaging the sensitive area. His mouth still so fucking close to yours, but never actually touching.

You whimpered, your hand falling down to his thigh gripping it tightly. A plea for more.

Peter’s tongue curiously traced your top lip. He clenched his jaw, still gripping to the back of your neck, before repeating the action on your bottom lip. It took every fiber in your body to control yourself, letting Peter take the lead. He had been the one asking to come over after all, you wanted to see what he could do.

He dug his fingers deeper into your neck eliciting a moan. The moan that sent him over the edge. He attacked your lips with his own. Hunger in each nip and tug at your bottom lip. His tongue brushed your bottom lip begging for permission. You open your mouth inviting him in.

Your tongues danced, so glorious. The feeling rushing all the way down to your core. Your body pushing itself against his side as he played with your hair, faces moving this way and that.

You brought yourself to sit on your knees, hovering over Peter. Both your hands finding their way to his face working on tilting his head to give you the best angle to devour him.

His free hand had cupped the bottom of your thigh and was slowly creeping up your ass and towards your back. You shivered under his touch, his hands still cold from the minutes he spent waiting for you.

“Do you want this?” He asked pulling himself from your grip. Searching your face for answers. You eagerly nodded, the lust slipping through your lips when you felt his hand reach under your shorts to squeeze the supple skin.

He pulled you down so you were straddling his lap. Your lips reconnected. This time it was soft and deep. Your lips connecting and reconnecting as your faces titled in opposite directions every few seconds.

You felt his fingers digging into the sides of your waist, his hips bucked longing to feel your every movement. You ground your hips into his, whimpering into his mouth.

Fuck you, Peter from chemistry. You thought melting under his touch.

& fuck you he did.

The birds outside your window brought you out of your slumber. Feeling your tense body, you stretch into a starfish before hitting the back of Peter’s head.

You retracted your hand, mentality cursing. You hadn’t forgotten about last night. Hell, it was going to take a long time to forget about the way he listened to your body. The way he made you quiver. The way he licked the skin under your ear sending you into a fit of moans and whimpers.

How the hell did this boy know how to do all this? And better yet, how could you get him to do it again?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt the body next to you shift his weight. A low groan escaping his lips as he brought his arms up to shield his eyes from the sun peeking through your blinds.

You bit your lip watching the veins in his arms and the way his hair was pointing in all different directions. He was a god. No doubt.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He mumbled his arms still slung over his eyes but an obvious smirk had taken over his lips.

“HA” you replied turning your back to him, a sad attempt at hiding your flushed cheeks.

It wasn’t long before you felt his body molding on your back, his arm wrapped around you bringing you closer. The tip of his nose caressed your shoulder. You settled into the embrace as he planted a kiss on the same spot. Then the nape of your neck. And finally that sweet spot right below your ear.

“We should get out of bed,” you whisper bringing your hand up to your nightstand to grab your phone. Peter eyed your movements. You pressed the home button to check the time and as soon as your lock screen flashed, Peter’s body went limp.

Noticing the sudden shift, you turned your head towards him as much as you could asking what was wrong.

Peter, still collecting his thoughts, finally responded. “Why do you have a picture of Tony Stark and a little girl as your screensaver?”

Your brows furrowed moving your body so that you were now fully facing Peter. “You mean a picture of myself? ... with my dad?” You asked confused clutching to the comforter.

Peter’s mouth was suddenly dry and he was trying really hard to swallow the shock. “Your dad?” He asked hoping you’d say you were pranking him.

You sat up, pulling the sheets to cover your breast. “I thought you knew? Everyone here knows who I am.” You say referring back to the obvious knowledge. You were an electrical engineer and physics double major with a chemistry minor for fucks sake. Try saying that five times.

Peter laid flat on his back, groaning and placing his palms on his eyes trying to process the information. Did he really just have sex with Mr. Stark’s daughter? Worse. Did she know he was Spider-Man?

“Wait if you’re Tony Stark’s daughter why are you never at the compound?” He instantly regretted saying that knowing he had definitely given up his cover, if she didn’t already know.

“How do you know that?” She asked. Confusion written on her face.

Peter groaned again. Should he tell her? Or should he risk having her snoop around and find out by someone who wasn’t him?

“I’m Spider-Man!!” He blurted searching your face for some form of comfort or understanding.

Your mouth formed an O. Why did this lifestyle, heroes and whatnot, follow you everywhere? I mean apart from the fact that you were Tony Stark’s daughter and it was kinda written in your cards. You groaned coming to terms with your fate.

Goddamit, Peter from chemistry. Fuck you. You thought straddling his lap. His hands instantly finding his favorite parts of you.

PART TWO

Masterlist ♥

#peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #spiderman

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sparklingskz · 5 years

Text

the heart of the matter | kim seungmin

▸ genre: college au, fluff!!

▸ description: you’re supposed to be registered into the physics class for humanity majors but somehow you’re in the advanced class, and Seungmin comes to your rescue.

▸ word count: 2.4k

▸ a/n: some cute seungmin for u (✿◠‿◠) also idk why I added those emojis in the text messages, i was just feeling like it ig lol

“I’m sorry, but it seems you’re registered in the advanced physics class,” the woman working at the front desk answered.

“This can’t be.” Exasperation dripped from your tone. “I’m sure I enrolled in the class for humanity majors. Can you please check again?”

You watched as the woman clicked on the screen a few times. “Your name is on the advanced list, so I’m afraid you’ll need to attend that class.” She directed a sad look at you.

“Isn’t there a way to change it? Transfer me to the easier course?” you pleaded.

“You can, but only after the first semester has passed,” she said after shrugging.

You sighed. “Okay, thank you.”

It seems you’ll have to survive until the end of the semester.

When you checked your schedule that morning, your heart stopped for a second when you noticed the small “advanced physics” printed, and immediately headed towards the university’s administration to figure out what was happening.

Turns out you probably messed up when you were selecting your classes.

Anyways, there was no use to cry because of it now. You resignedly headed to the physics room, mentally preparing yourself for what was about to come.

You were standing in front of the classroom doors, pondering whether to go in or not. To say you were confident would be a complete lie. However, you needed the attendance if you wanted to pass, so you took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

You sat down on the second row and took out your materials, and were completely prepared to pay attention to try and save yourself from failing.

Oh, but it was not going to be so easy.

Only half an hour had passed and you were suffering. Physics was never your forte, and now that you had to learn things way above your level, you’d have to work twice as hard. You were trying your best, taking notes of everything the professor was saying, your hand aching every once in a while.

Some time later the lesson ended, and you quickly packed your stuff and left the classroom, feeling exhausted from all the information you had to engrave into your brain.

This was definitely going to be a tough semester.

“Why is this so difficult?” you whined as you buried your head into your hands.

You were currently at the library, your physics notes and a book opened right in front of you, trying to absorb as much knowledge as you could.

It was not going very well.

You were a humanities major, for God’s sake! All these formulas and theorems weren’t going to be of any use to you, but if you wanted to do well on your upcoming test you’d have to learn all of them by that time.

Frustration was quickly building up on you, but you picked up your book and delved right into it again.

You were jotting down a few definitions when you suddenly felt a soft voice addressing you.

“Excuse me?”

You looked up towards the voice and were met with a boy sitting on the table next to you, looking at you curiously.

“Um, yes?” you asked, wondering what he would want.

“Are you studying for the advanced physics class?”

“I’m trying,” you sighed.

“Do you want some help? I think I don’t suck that much at physics,” he said, shrugging.

At this point, you’d take any help you can get, even if you didn’t know the boy.

“If you don’t mind, that would actually be good,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.

He returned your smile and picked up his things and moved to go sit right next to you, setting his supplies down on the table.

“Oh! I just realized I haven’t told you my name. I’m Seungmin.” He extended his hand for you to shake, and you took it.

“I’m y/n. How did you know I needed help?” you inquired.

“Well, let’s say I could feel your frustration from where I was seated, and you look like you’re one second away from having a meltdown during class.”

You laughed a bit and looked at the floor. “Yeah, I’m hopeless.”

“Don’t say that! Look, I know it may be difficult but just take a deep breath and let’s start with the basics, okay?” Seungmin said softly.

You looked up at him, and you could swear you were staring at an angel. This boy, who was very cute you might add, offering his help to you? Maybe choosing the advanced class wasn’t a complete mistake.

“There, you got it right!” Seungmin exclaimed and high-fived you.

“Looks like I’m not that hopeless after all,” you said with a smile.

Seungmin had spent the past hour teaching you, and you could say that you had understood everything. It was like he had a special way with words, he made the complicated terms you learnt in class make sense and everything sound way more simple than it probably was.

Whatever it was, you were grateful.

It was when Seungmin yawned you noticed how late it had gotten. “You must be tired, sorry for keeping you here so long trying to teach my humanities major brain,” you said, closing your books.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. By the way, why are you taking the advanced class?” he tilted his head, like a cute puppy.

“I made a mistake when registering my classes, so now I’m stuck until the first semester ends,” you said sadly, both of you standing up and heading towards the library’s exit.

“Well, if you’d like I could continue tutoring you, I’m not that busy this semester.”

You stopped on your tracks to face him. “You’d really do that?”

“Yeah, why not? You shouldn’t have to suffer because of your mistake, and if I can help in any way, then I’d be happy to,” he finished with a smile.

Perhaps angels did exist in real life, you thought.

“If you’re sure… I would really appreciate the help.”

You both traded numbers and went your separate ways, the image of the nice boy stuck in your mind.

Some time had passed, and you had met up with Seungmin a few times to study. Well, at least most of the time, because you sometimes got off track and ended up talking about random topics and getting to know each other. You weren’t complaining, though.

You found out that the boy was actually a physics major, hence his deep understanding on the subject. He loved it, so he also loved teaching it to you (you found this piece of information especially endearing).

Every time you studied, you brought him food as to repay him, because he wouldn’t accept money and he was, as he himself put it, a “starving college student”. Turns out, you were meeting at least twice a week to eat and occasionally study, only when it was necessary as you thought it was way more fun to just talk for hours about anything and everything.

You wouldn’t deny that your heart would race a little every time you met.

However, you’d have to ignore such thoughts because you had a final exam coming up, and a large part of your grade for the course depended on the score you got. You wanted to do well so you would be able to transfer to the easier class without any regrets.

You texted Seungmin so you could meet up to (actually) study.

you (15:34 pm): hey I need help for the final exam, are u free today? (^▽^)

seungminnie ♡ (15:36 pm): do u have food

you (15:37 pm): who do u take me for, of course

seungminnie ♡ (15:38 pm): then I’m free ヽ(^◇^*)/

you (15:40 pm): see u at the library dork

You locked your phone and headed to the library.

When you got there, you immediately spotted Seungmin, who was sitting on the table you two used every time you studied there. You went over and said hello, sitting down next to him.

After talking about random topics for a few minutes, you took out your physics supplies and watched as Seungmin did the same thing.

You were looking at the amount of information you’d have to internalize, and your leg immediately started bouncing up and down, nerves flooding your entire system.

Seungmin seemed to notice your nervousness. “Y/n, you’ll do fine,” he said, resting his hand on top of your leg, stopping its bouncing. “Relax.”

How is he asking you to relax when his hand is right there, you didn’t know.

“It’s just… A lot of information,” you sighed.

“And we’ll go through it, don’t worry.” He directed a smile at you, instantly calming you down.

You trusted him, definitely. After all, he was one of the people you had grown closer to during your time in college, and you knew he did his best to teach you, taking time out of his day to help you out.

And you appreciated that.

You watched as he opened the physics book, getting everything set up for you to review. You got into your studying mindset, ignoring the way your heart jumped when of your hands brushed when reaching for your notes.

This would be a long evening.

“Come on y/n, I know you know this,” Seungmin said.

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. “I think I’m just a bit distracted.”

Oh, damn right you were. You didn’t know what was happening to you that specific day, but you weren’t paying enough attention to your textbook or Seungmin’s attempts at explaining. Instead you were paying attention to the way his hands moved enthusiastically when he was trying to express something, the way he slowly blinked when reading, or the way his mannerisms resembled a cute puppy (you couldn’t explain how, but he did).

And all this was affecting your concentration.

“Okay, you know what? Let’s take a break.” He closed the textbook. “We’ll take a nice walk around campus and come back to finish studying, how does that sound?” Seungmin said.

That definitely was better than staying in there dealing with whatever was happening to you. “Okay, let’s go.”

You both grabbed your things and went outside, and started strolling along the buildings on your campus.

The atmosphere was serene. Not many people were outside at that particular time so you both walked in a comfortable silence, Seungmin’s presence comforting beside you. You didn’t talk much except for some punctual comments here and there, preferring to just enjoy the moment and relax before going back inside.

Before you had a chance to do that, though, you both walked next to one of the green areas on campus, some trees, grass and benches adorning the area. That’s when Seungmin turned to face you.

“Hey, how about we continue studying outside? I read that a change in scenery can do the brain good when retaining information,” he said, nudging you with his elbow.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh really? And where did you read that?” You asked, unconvinced.

“I don’t know, Pinterest?” he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, it’s probably true.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond when he grabbed your hand and dragged you to sit on the grass, under the shade of a big tree.

You weren’t going to lie and say that studying there didn’t sound like a good idea.

You took out your supplies and got to work, a slight breeze surrounding you both and the feeling of soft grass under your fingertips accompanying you.

The moment you handed in your finished test, you could physically feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. You wouldn’t have to worry about physics until after you got your results back, and you could confidently say you thought you did very well.

A week after that day, you were walking along campus next to Seungmin (“y/n you need to get out of your dorm and stop stressing over your test, you told me you did well!”), checking your phone every ten minutes to see if you got your grade back.

When you heard the typical notification sound, you froze. On the screen, an email from your physics professor was displayed for you to open.

A few seconds later, Seungmin spoke. “So? What are you waiting for, a damn invitation? Open it!”

You snapped out of it and tapped the notification, and you skimmed through the email to see how you did.

A big 87/100 was written, next to “grade”.

“I passed!” you exclaimed, jumping up and down. “Eighty-seven out of a hundred!”

In the thrill of the moment, you threw your arms around Seungmin, embracing him into a big hug. It was all thanks to him, after all.

“Thank you so so much Seungmin, I couldn’t have done it without you,” you said, retreating your arms from around his neck.

He smiled widely at you. “Please, you were the one that answered that test, I just helped,” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Don’t be modest. Hey, check your grade too!” you suddenly exclaimed.

You watched as Seungmin took out his phone from his pocket and unlocked it. He tapped the screen a few times before announcing his score, “I got a ninety-five,” he smiled at you.

“Wasn’t expecting anything less from you, to be honest.”

He playfully hit your arm because of your comment, before speaking. “This needs a celebration. Want to grab some food? It’s almost dinner time, I’ll treat.”

“Oh? What happened to ‘I’m a starving college student, please feed me?’” You raised your eyebrows at him teasingly.

“Maybe I want to treat my date to some food, I can’t do that?”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard him say that. A date? Did Seungmin like you back? Wait, you didn’t even conclude that you liked him, you just thought he was cute and had an amazing personality, you loved his laugh, the way he talked, how he was so patient with you whenever you studied, and all his little quirks and traits.

Oh.

Maybe you did like him.

“A date? As in… non-platonic?” you asked, just to clear things up.

“I mean…” He scratched his neck, not meeting your gaze. “If you don’t have a problem with it, I would like to.”

In a sudden urge of confidence, you grabbed his hand into yours, making him look up at you. “I would like to,” you said while smiling.

He gave you a bright smile in return. “Let’s get going, then.”

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids onsehots #stray kids blurbs #stray kids reactions #kim seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin #seungmin fluff #seungmin imagines #seungmin scenarios #seungmin oneshots #seungmin x reader #fluff

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Remoras Full Chapter XVIII: Ray of Light

There I sat in the same hospital bed that I had been in for the past few weeks. There wasn’t much to the room I was in; the counter by the wall had sparse medical equipment lying around. In the middle of it was a sink, with a soap dispenser overhead. Truth be told, I could have left a week ago, and the dreary gray ambiance of the room left a lot to be desired. Last week, Shirley came to check in on me, just like she had done each day prior.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I greeted her as she opened the door to the hospital room.

She was not amused, and I never expected her to be. That same tired expression, those bags under her eyes, that glare like “why are you still here?” It’s funny to note how I’ve heard her interactions with other patients, and how soft and patient she sounds. Of course, that was her job, and seeing others in such poor health could take a toll on her. ‘Emotional labor’ they called it. Of course, such a thing also happens in any other job, but especially in such positions where one had to care for another. Compassion burnout could have been another word for it. No matter how much she put on a smile, and no matter how much she meant it, no doubt it got to her, just as it would any other.

“I’m discharging you. You should go home, see your wife, tell her the good news,” she informed me without any hint of glee or celebratory cheer.

I recall how I turned my head toward the window, where the snowy barren landscape lay. Yes, the hospital was not my home, yet I treated it like a retreat from home all the same. It was an oddity to think of how much I had grown to love the atmosphere of the hospital. Whether that be a certain feeling the hospital food brought me with its lack of imagination, or the fact that it was so short staff, and yet what little staff there was did their damnedest to improve the lives that entered.

“What about my physical therapy?” I asked and hoped she would take the bait.

“You’ve been receiving that as part of your care. Have you not gotten used to your prosthetic?” She saw right through me. Of course she did, she’s probably dealt with others like me in the past.

Truth be told, I didn’t think I would ever get used to it. Yes, in time it would give me no trouble, and maybe I would just accept it as part of my life, but it wasn’t the physical aspect of it I wouldn’t get used to: it was that it served as a reminder that all of my antics had caught up to me. I slipped up, I underestimated someone I knew better than to have and I paid the price for it. No, the worst thing about it was that I could have avoided the issue altogether, but I just stopped caring about my own life.

“Tell me, doc, is it possible to have phantom limb when I technically have a limb?” I held up my arm (a rather brilliant thing in its own right. One would be hard pressed to tell it was a prosthetic and not the real thing. If not for all the fancy wires on the inside, I would have believed it myself) as I spoke those words, the question rather irrelevant. It was just my usual tactic: talking to fill space.

“Yes, I have heard such cases. Your turn, Ray: why are you so insistent on staying here longer?”

“I don’t really know,” I closed my eyes. My words sounded so sprained, despite there being no pain attached to them. There wasn’t so much of the sly smile like I had sported for so long. If I had an answer, it was buried somewhere else in a folder I refused to open.

Exhausted, she let out a sigh of defeat. It wasn’t ideal for her, and doubtful I benefited much from it.

“I’ll give you another week here. But you can’t just stay in bed doing nothing and have all your meals in bed. I’ll give you physical exercises and watch to make sure you’re doing them. Flex and grip exercise, things like that.”

“Have I really been in bed this whole time?” I asked her, rather coy, and this time the familiar smile returned to me. Glad to see it hadn’t left completely.

“Pacing about the room is not what I consider walking around. Come on, what have you been doing this whole time, anyway?”

“Mostly reflecting. It’s been a good opportunity to think some things over,” I replied in earnest.

“And? Has it helped?”

I shook my head and smiled.

Her blank expression shifted to a near frown.

“That’s a shame.” “Isn’t it?” I more mouthed than spoke. If she heard me, it didn’t show. She motioned toward the door and before she turned to me and said:

“By the way, if you’re going to complain about the hospital food being bland, either go home already or make your food yourself. I know you’re capable.”

Throughout the following days, she had kept her word, as did I.

My strolls through the halls netted me some treasures I wouldn’t have found otherwise. One patient lent me a book to read, one of the head nurses gave me some blank sheets of paper and a pen, and I did as Shirley suggested and helped out in the kitchen.

With the book, it was in Danish, which despite how useful it would be to learn given the region (also given the region, I could have tried learning some of the Inuit languages at one point in time or another), I never did. But I still tried to read through it and parse through what few words I could discern.

One thing I could have done with the pen and paper was try to write a letter to Sunny, as she was always sentimental about those things. I could have also jotted down the steps to the strategy Remora and I had talked over, that could have helped. Rather than either of those things, I tried to practice drawing. Simple things, like birds and foxes, but the way I saw it, the things I did with the pen didn’t matter so much as the fact that I was testing out my new hand.

Nothing about it struck me as odd until I helped out in the kitchen. Somewhere that should have been my habitat and yet I felt myself in a foreign environment. I tried to hold a large pot full of boiling water and I felt my new hand shake as I lifted it up to transfer to a different burner. It was as if I was just as well off trying to lift it one-handed. My theory for the whole thing was that my body wasn’t yet consistent with registering that I had two hands again.

Even with the physical routines and little tasks I gave myself, there were still gaps of time scattered throughout which plagued me. I would ponder aloud such things like, “I miss everyone, don’t I? So why doesn’t it feel like I do? For that matter, what am I avoiding?”

No answer came. It didn’t need to. I was sure I knew, somewhere anyway.

When the week passed, Shirley, or as I ought to call her, Dr. Cole-Slaw entered the room once more, and found me seated at the desk.

“What have you been up to?” She asked, skipping past the “hello” and “how are you?”

I looked up from the paper. Little lines were drawn here and there. Nothing too fancy.

“Examining my psyche,” I told her, then folded my hands behind my head and grinned. It was a grin in the same way a popped balloon floated.

“What did you find?” She asked, and I thought I caught a hint of playfulness in her own voice. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Air,” I told her. “Nothing but air.”

She put her hand on her chin and looked down, then squinted as she shook her head.

“Maybe if my own brain was at full capacity, I’d know what you mean, but I’ve been swamped with more things than I’m sure you’re willing to hear.”

I closed my grin, then pushed up my glasses.

“You don’t know that for sure. If nothing else, I’m a listener.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty on your plate once you get back home. Speaking of, are you ready?”

I lifted myself out of my chair and drifted over to the window. Beside the hospital was a small body of water, a pond. Skies were clear, the sun shone over the snowy landscape. Even barren, it could be a thing of beauty.

I put my hand over the glass and murmured.

“Do you think they missed me?”

“I’m sure of it,” she replied, the same softness I’ve heard her use on patients.

“Do you know who I’m talking about?”

“No,” she admitted. “But even as air, your presence is pronounced enough that I’m sure the place has felt different with you missing from it.”

“Yeah. You might be right.”

I turned around and smiled, not even sure what for.

“I suppose with this, we’re even. Or, now I’m the one who owes you a favor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she met my smile with her own, and hers seemed more genuine.

I made my preparations to leave the room, and soon I would wait in the lobby for one of the hospital vehicles to take me back to my diner. For whatever reason, the silence of the in-between seemed to give me more excitement than my destination. No, there wasn’t a journey to be had. There were only resting periods.

When we arrived, I thanked the driver, slipped them some cash as a tip, then headed toward the door. There was a fog which had taken shape outside, obscuring all shapes around me, save for the modest restaurant without a name. From that fog, I felt a strong gust pull me forward, and I made my careful steps toward the door. As I opened the door, I looked back and the fog was gone. As if it were never there.

I shook my head. Little tricks of the mind like that were the last thing I needed. Call me superstitious, but something like that struck me as a bad omen. Then again, there was no fear which accompanied the vision (or lack of), and instead there was just the observation. Casual notation. If it were more out of the ordinary, I might have been my usual self and felt the obsessive need to explain or understand the how’s and why’s. Instead, I just walked through that door and into the place I called my home.

Slow and deliberate was my entrance. As I entered the diner and took in the scenery, a series of thoughts greeted me before any familiar face did.

What will I encounter? How much has changed since I left? Have things changed for the better, or worse? Has everyone gotten closer, or gotten along better? Or is there further friction? What of mystery? And intrigue? What developments, if any, have transpired? If there was a mess, will I need to clean it up?

During my time at the hospital, I never once believed anything would change when I returned. Why would I? It wasn’t like I was expecting much to happen while I was away. What with how little activity there had been over the past year or so.

So imagine my surprise when I walked in and saw people seated at the tables. Actual living and breathing people. Not many, mind you, but just the fact that they were there, and that I didn’t know them, was astounding enough. I was used to being familiar with everyone who walked through those doors. Ah, but maybe that wasn’t fair of me. Those days seemed long gone.

“Here’s your menu,” were the first words I heard spoken. They came from someone familiar, with that rough, but mousy voice, but her appearance was a little different. Her hair was tied into twin-tails with little braids in the back of her hair.

Menus? I wondered. Even when my diner thrived, I never had those. I’d just let people order anything that came to mind, and more than likely, I’d have the ingredients.

Nobody else seemed to notice me yet, nor did I notice Sunny or the other two anywhere. I made my way over to the table she was serving.

“Hey, who might you be?” One of the customers asked, a shaggy looking fellow with thick, brown hair going every which way and a bit of a stubble. I was about to open my mouth to introduce myself, but the words didn’t seem to want to come out. Demetria turned to address me as well.

“I’ll be right with yo-o-o –!” She just about jumped in place, startled at the sight of me. “Ray! Didn’t know you’d be back today!”

As out of place as I felt, no, more out of body than out of place, it was easy enough to act like my old self. Besides, it wasn’t like I was really all that different than the version of me that she knew. I gave her a chuckle in response, then cleared my throat before speaking.

“Well, I haven’t informed anyone that I would be coming back today,” I explained.

I wonder if that’s okay with you all. If that’s okay with Sunny, I thought, though the thought was rather ridiculous. Sunny couldn’t care less about things like advance notice. Hell, she might have been happier with the surprise entrance.

“Hello,” I faced the customer. “My name is Ray Sunshine. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I extended my hand (the new one) toward the customer and gave off the closest I could to a warm smile. He looked at my hand, then up at me.

“Sorry, man, but my hands got sauce on ‘em,” he informed me with a pile of food in his mouth. Probably a good call on his part, as I didn’t know where else his hands might have been. On his plate were enchiladas as well as biscuits and gravy. Outstanding.

I returned my focus toward Demetria.

“We have menus now?” I asked her.

“Oh, yeah. I’m no designer or anything, but I stayed up all night making little paper menus. Figured I’d make things easier for Tigershark, so I put down some things I know she can make and put random prices on them. I’m not that good at figuring out how much things should cost, so I just guestimated here and there,” she explained.

“May I take a look?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” she handed one to me. I scanned through the folded paper. There wasn’t a whole lot, and nary a selection of drinks, but what was there impressed me. Some breakfast food (good diner staple), some French and Italian cuisine, as well as a few good desserts to cap it off. I found some of the prices on the food to be a little too low, and some a little too high, but I could make adjustments to it.

“That was real nice of you,” I commended Demetria’s handiwork, even if it was rather rough around the edges.

“Nah, I just figure if it makes Tigershark’s job easier, it makes my job easier,” she waved off the compliment.

“And we have customers now?”

“Well...I wouldn’t say we’ve gotten popular, but there’s been a few people here and there.”

“Even still…”

...That’s impressive, I was about to say, but instead faced the gentleman with the messy hands.

“How did you come about this place?”

“So I’m, like, a cashier at this general store. Or I was until Aurora B. She robbed the place and I was like ‘go ahead, I hate my boss, anyway’ and before I ran out, I asked if she knew any good places to eat and she recommended this place.”

Why anyone would ask for food recommendations after getting robbed was beyond me, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t used to people acting in unusual ways. What astounded me more was the name he said. ‘Aurora B’. I’ve heard rumors and stories about her. How ruthless her and her gang of bandits could be. I’ve considered trying to meet her at times, but then other things would always take up my attention instead. Still, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots.

“Aurora. She was here?” I asked, and waited for either person to answer.

“Yeah! But it’s okay because we recovered all our losses!” Demetria was the one to fess up. Odd, too, seeing as she was the one who would sometimes recite the motto “snitches get stitches.”

I put my hand over my face and shook my head.

“Shame she’s not here. I would have loved to meet her,” I muttered.

“Oh, by the way!” The guest reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. “Aurora told me to return this to you.”

Demetria swiped the knife out of his hand and sheathed it in her pocket, then laughed a nervous laugh.

“Jeez, I can’t believe I forgot about this!” Despite the nervousness on display, there was a definite delight and excitement to her voice as well.

...Just how much have I missed?

There was more I needed to see.

“Do take care,” I bid the messy gentleman. “I hear things have been rather dangerous as of late.”

God damn, that sounded like stock dialogue for a fantasy setting. How distasteful. At least I could hold out hope that something would be done soon enough. That was, if I could put my trust in Remora, which I wasn’t sure I could. Hell, part of my initial excitement from hearing her plan was the simple fact that she had hints of a schemer in her as well.

Well, of course. She’s a sniper, not a dumb muscle. Maybe she’s not so good with understanding people, but forming a strategy must come as second nature to her.

I put such a note in the back of my mind. Everything in time, at its own pace. For now, I took my stride over to the kitchen, where Tigershark stood on a stool and stirred a big pot.

Despite it already being open, I gave the kitchen door a good knock.

“Hello? I’d like to speak with the manager,” I called over to Tigershark. She looked over and a big grin spread on her face. She jumped down from the stool and ran up to hug me.

“Ray! You’re here!”

“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” I gave a playful reply.

“Why were you gone so long?” She demanded to know.

What a good question. But what can I say? She must know that I was at the hospital, but that doesn’t explain the extended stay. Then again, what would? Usually someone like me would know what to say to anyone, but here I am with a loss for words.

“I was sick…” I tried to explain.

“I know! But I didn’t think you’d be sick for that long! You’re better now, right?”

Such energy. She wasn’t much for saying things quietly, was she? Still, she was perceptive and resourceful. Was it Remora’s doing or my own? Or maybe she had learned such traits from her parents, whoever they might have been. If only I could have met such people.

“I’m better now...I’m better now…” I muttered, and broke away from the hug. Maybe in some ways, I was, but in others, I had gotten worse.

“Are you sure?” Tigershark asked.

Oh no. Worrying a child was the last thing I wanted. For her sake, I smiled.

“Yeah, in fact, I’ve decided to give you a promotion.”

“What?!” Her eyes grew all wide, her hands balled into fists.

“Yes. I’ll be promoting you from manager to head chef. How does that sound?” I hoped she wouldn’t realize that was actually a downgrade.

“Yay! I’ll be the best head chef!”

That I’m sure. And I’m more suited to be the manager, anyway.

“By the way, best head chef, have you seen Sunny anywhere?” It was due time for a reunion, after all. My heart was in more of a rush than I was. No, I think I was misinterpreting signals. Instead, it might have been my continued hesitation. Was it a fear of facing her? Whatever it was, I felt like a schoolboy having a first crush. I loved to make others cringe, but with the way I felt, it was like I was getting a taste of my own medicine.

“She’s upstairs!” Tigershark told me while pointing up at the ceiling.

Let’s just get this over with, growled an impatient thought. That wasn’t me at all; if I was nothing else, I was a patient person.

“Thank you,” I smiled and softened my voice for Tigershark. “I’ll catch up with you later. I’d like to speak with the love of my wife. Err...my wife.”

If I made any more slip ups like that, my head would surely fall from my shoulders, and they didn’t make prosthetics for that.

So I made my way through the back of the diner and down the hall to the attic. Each step heavy with trepidation. Once I made my way up, I stood in place at the end of the bed: she was resting.

I let her rest. Nothing was urgent.

Unsure what to do next, I walked over and sat at the edge of the bed.

“I’m back. I’m still alive. Trying to live. Got a new arm and everything. It hurts sometimes. Like a swollen ankle hurts. Stings, less like a bee sting, and more like a failed operation. But the operation was a success. I think I feel out of place in my own home. I feel like I’ve lost my sense of self, but I know the version of me that people are familiar with. I feel like I can act like that person, even if it doesn’t feel as natural as it used to,” I recited, a low mutter. Though it was addressed to her, it was spoken in such a way that I hoped for her not to hear, so that she could continue to rest.

Instead, I heard a stir. There was a rustle in the blankets, then arms wrapped around me from behind, a heavy press of warmth. I took Sunny’s hands into my own.

“Mm. It’s good to see you again,” she yawned in her sleepy voice. Yet just as energetic, if not more, than Tigershark’s.

“Even if you heard all that?” I asked, not even sure if she had.

Her head was on my shoulder and I felt her nod.

“Sometimes the self comes and goes like waves, the tides pulling in, then back out to sea,” she mused.

I closed my eyes and thought of the ocean, but that only helped for a couple seconds, as thoughts turned to trying to figure out which ocean. Then my imagination conjured up images of a shipwreck, being lost at sea, and a lighthouse obscured by a fog.

“I feel like a fog,” I croaked out the words.

“Then can I be the sun to clear the fog?” Her voice soothed in my ear.

“You ask to be the sun, but can you handle its rays?” I retaliated in a way which was meant to sound romantic, but it didn’t really come out that way. To save face, I fell back and landed on her lap.

We both laughed and I turned to her.

“What’s wrong with us? You’re napping and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Even adventurers need to take breaks,” she said all matter of fact, like I needed such a reminder. “How’s your arm doing, by the way?”

“It’s like I never lost anything. See?” I lifted up my arm and pulled down my sleeve to show her. “Looks just like the real thing, even has fake hair particles on the ‘skin’. If not for the fact that it detaches, it may as well be considered the real thing.”

“Does it hurt?”

I paused and pondered the question.

“Sometimes. Mostly, it’s an adjustment. I can do most of the things I could before, and feel every action, as well. Yet at times I feel disconnected, like I’m detached from the things I’m doing.”

“I wonder what it’s like. Trying to discover your own skin again,” she mused. Once again, I returned the favor.

“I’d rather discover yours again,” I teased.

“Oho?”

I closed my eyes.

“But for now, I’d like to just lay here and rest.”

When I awoke, I was the only one on the bed. At first, I thought that I had returned to my old self, as I didn’t seem to have much of a care in the world and I was eager to solve a few mysterious, or at the very least, find things to amuse myself. Maybe none of those things were true, but I wanted to believe that for as long as possible.

I got up, showered, then donned a tuxedo without so much as a second thought. Once I had gotten myself all ready, I made my way to the kitchen up front and met up once more with Sunny and Tigershark, who were busy preparing meals.

After a good yawn, I greeted the two of them.

“How goes Sunny Delight and Best Chef?” I waved my hand as I addressed them. They both looked over and had wide grins on their faces.

“Hey hun, how was your nap?” Sunny asked.

“Simply splendid,” I replied, my hands in my pockets. I trotted over toward the open window of the kitchen and saw two ladies with a blanket over them. One with long, red hair, with lanky arms and a slight scrawny appearance. The other was shorter, and a little chubbier. She had short, blue hair in a pixie cut and looked rather full of herself.

“I see we have customers again,” I noted. “I wonder. Everyone’s got a story to tell, right? What’s theirs?”

Tigershark was the one to answer that.

“Demetria told me they were in a blizzard outside and nearly froze to death!”

“Oh, so that blanket must have come from her room?” I asked.

Tigershark shook her head with the fury of a tiger. “No! Remora’s! She said she knows what it’s like to be cold!”

“Oh,” I was just a little taken aback. To think Remora would do something nice like that. Well, maybe it made a bit of sense.

Despite the commotion in the kitchen, I was able to lean into the window and listen in on their conversation. At the moment, the red haired one had struck a conversation with Demetria. Something about Demetria’s cousin and unrequited love. It became clear from how exaggerated the story had gotten that the redhead was just making things up as she went, yet Demetria was captivated enough by it to keep asking questions, and each answer would turn instead to insisting on knowing where said cousin lived. It didn’t even seem like she was that interested in the cousin, herself, so I couldn’t understand the importance of such a story.

Still, I continued to listen. Then the kitchen door opened, and my attention shifted toward who was at the door: Remora. I didn’t recognize her at first because her hair had grown a little longer, and it was now in a near black color. Still, her typical posture and always-freezing demeanor was hard not to recognize.

“Ah, I was wondering when I would see you again,” I greeted. Something welled up in me. Anger, or bitterness, perhaps, but I did my best to push it down. No matter what it was, I refused to stop treating her like a guest and more than that, a friend.

At first she stood tall, then she slouched over and began to shiver.

“Hi. Yes. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room. Brr…” She chattered her teeth and groaned out the words as she pointed her thumb to her left.

“Wait!” I called after her. “Before you go, I’d like to know what you can tell me about those two out there.”

Her head swayed and shifted from one end to the other and then she looked back at me.

“I don’t trust them,” she stated. “Might have something to do with their hair…”

It took me a second to register what she meant, but then it clicked and a laugh slipped from me. Rather unintentional, too.

“What? Are you worried they might be alternate versions of you?” I joked. It didn’t come out with the same sly tone that I would have made the same comments with in the past. What replaced it was a bitter, dry voice. I really didn’t know what to make of myself. Perhaps lucky for me, she returned with a dry statement of her own.

“Ha. ‘Alternate-version-of-myself’? Am I a joke to you?” She bore her teeth and growled out the words. Yet her tone of voice was still so sterile and icy.

“Only endearingly,” I replied. “However, I do apologize if I took it too far.”

“I’m not mad, if that’s what you mean...I’m chill. Just chill.” Her knees shook and she began to rub her hands together. “I’m mostly wary because they talked about different timelines and versions of Earth. Forgive me if I’m just a little on edge.”

That surprised me. I was used to her being on edge, but not her apologizing for it. Had something changed for her as well to make her act in such a way? Or could it have to do with her plan?

“Understandable,” I told her. “I am surprised, though, that you gave them a blanket. That was rather nice of you.”

She blinked. “Was it? I just don’t like the idea of others having to go through the same thing I do. If anything, I’m only thinking about myself.”

“Whatever the reason, I’m sure they appreciated it.”

Then, I watched as she clenched her fists, before releasing them and taking heavy breaths.

“I...I’m trying. To not come off so abrasive. I don’t know why it’s so hard to be a person.”

I smiled, then looked back out the window and closed my eyes. I didn’t want her to see in case a tear were to fall. Same thing went for the other two in the room. Maybe Sunny could be privy to it, but the rest? I didn’t want to know.

“I don’t know, either.”

It was a solid few seconds. Less silence, more of a buzz. But when I turned around, my frigid friend was gone. Ah, was it even fair to consider her a friend? For my current state, it was hard to define what constituted that and what didn’t. I decided not to pursue an answer, as I believed no matter how I would chip away at the answer, I would come up fruitless. Instead, I let myself be swept in the idea that I could play at being my old self and strike up a conversation with the two.

I headed out the kitchen and when I got out the door, Sunny called to me.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“What kind of manager would I be if I didn’t ensure guest satisfaction?” I turned to her with a smile and a suave little short nod.

My heels tapped against the floor and each step was a careful one, as if I were preparing for a dance. The one with the red hair turned to face me and I just about cleared my throat when I realized I was missing my glasses. So I reached into my pocket, took a cloth and cleaned off the lenses, then placed them on.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” my greeting a natural (imitation of a) cordial tone. I hope your meal has been well. I am the owner, Ray Sunshine. Please let me know if you need anything.”

Said redhead waved her hand away as if she were working up a rude customer broadway act. I could only imagine what she would say next.

“Yeah, Raymond? Can I call you Raymond? Look, this meal has been fab,” I looked down at her plate and noticed she hadn’t even touched it. Either she wasn’t really hungry or she just got too distracted talking things up with my waitress. “But I’ve got a lot on my plate. Some bloke stole my rental car, and I was only renting it to get to the airport. Now, my body’s built pretty tough, I’ve eaten my spinach, but I’m hopeless without a GPS, so I’m a little unsure how I’m going to get to the airport now.”

Again, quite a ridiculous string of dialogue, and I would be remiss to say I wasn’t used to hearing such things, but with the two pieces of evidence I had beside me: the name of the city she had managed to extract from Demetria and that Remora mentioned them hopping timelines. What was I dealing with? Some kind of cosmic drifters? Whoever those two were, I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“You guys can’t hustle me,” then I squinted my eyes. What are you two really after? I refrained from asking such a question out loud. There was reason enough to be suspicious and yet, I found myself unable to care about the whole thing. “Not only that, but it’s unnecessary.”

Then, I did something rather uncharacteristic of me:

“There’s a hatch in the kitchen which leads to our basement. That’s where we brew all our ales. You’ll find a load of barrels down there. In the back of the basement, there’s a door which leads to a tunnel. You follow that tunnel all the way through and at the end of the tunnel is another flight of stairs and another hatch which leads to the airport,” I recited the words, eyes closed. To think I would disclose such a secret, to strangers no less. Whatever their motive or reason, I found I couldn’t care less.

“Why do you have something like that in your basement?” She asked, rather puzzled at the notion. Didn’t she know that most diners had a basement? Or maybe just the few I’ve visited.

“Let’s say it’s come in handy when a few deals have gone sour,” I stated.

“I see. And you’re just gonna let us go through there. I mean, I appreciate it, but why?”

I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged.

“Maybe I’m feeling generous,” I walked away after that. I didn’t really have a good reason. Maybe I never had a good reason for any of the things I did. I shook my head and retreated to the back. Back to that familiar desk with all those stacks of papers. I know what I said to Remora, about her being in charge of it. Call it selfish of me, but I hoped she would return that position to me so that I may have some semblance of my old life.

I held the stacks of paper full of requests in my hands. Each one I read through, I set aside in frustration. Most were junk, and the ones that weren’t seemed like obvious traps. What ever happened to the interesting ones? Or the ones where the deceit wasn’t so obvious?

Fingertips of my new hand met their way to my forehead as I looked down and shook my head. Back down at the papers, I noticed how some of them were interesting. Requests for heists in dangerous locations, recovering ancient artifacts, investigating rumors of certain monsters in certain regions. Those kind of things. But maybe that’s why they weren’t appealing to me – they were all the kinds of things I’ve dealt with in the past. Once, I would have found them interesting.

Most of the so-called “monsters” would usually have mundane, albeit weird, explanations. There were the heists and other dangerous endeavors, but after years of smooth talking, cutting deals, and infiltration, I found it all too tedious.

I set the stack of papers down and leaned back into my chair. I just about took a nap in it until I remembered those two visitors. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, then dialed Cybele’s number. After a few rings, she picked up.

“Hello?” She sounded just a bit tired, like I had woken her up.

“Hello, Cybele. Sorry if I woke you,” I replied.

“You didn’t. I just always sound tired. Anyway, how have you been? I tried to check in a few weeks ago, but you weren’t there. I met your accountant and she said you were shot and had to go to the hospital. Are you okay now?” Sill asked, still sounding tired, but a hint of worry as well.

“Yes, I’m all better. What’s this about an accountant?” I asked, though I already had an idea what was going on.

“You know, Rae Morris? She looked pretty official, anyway.”

I didn’t know why I always had to learn from secondhand accounts that Remora went and introduced herself with made up identities, but it was obvious ‘Rae Morris’ had been her.

“Right. I forget about the people I hire sometimes. Anyway, I just called to let you know that two people are going to show up to the airport.”

“Oh? You want me to take them somewhere?”

“No, I…” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to tell her. If there was anything I really wanted. Those two could have been bad news, or they could have been honest-to-goodness down on their luck folks who needed a place to go.

“Oh. Then what about them?” She sounded disappointed. Hell, when was the last time I gave her work?

“Yes. Take them to their destination and keep a close eye on them.”

“All right, do you want me to report anything to you afterward?”

“No, unless you find anything worth reporting.”

“Oh, okay! It’s good to hear from you, by the way.”

“Yeah. You too.”

I hung up the phone and I was surprised to see Demetria sitting in the chair in front of me. She had her arms folded and pursed her lip with a worried look on her face.

“Yes? Can I help you?” I asked and wondered how much she heard of my conversation. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t anything too private.

She pointed her thumb behind her in the direction of Remora’s room; the door was open, something I wasn’t used to seeing. I couldn’t get a clear view of the rest, so I didn’t know what I was supposed to notice.

“What about it?” I asked.

“She’s shivering,” Demetria informed me, as if she had just learned that water was, in fact, not a dry substance.

“And?”

Her eyes widened, then her brow creased and a frown formed.

“What do you mean ‘and’? What if she’s sick? Shouldn’t we try to help her?”

“There’s nothing we can do to help,” I informed her.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I think it’s better to ask her yourself.”

“I would, but she doesn’t like talking about herself and I try to respect that.”

“Have you never noticed her shivering before?” I really was dumbfounded, something I thought was no longer possible.

“I have! But I just figured it made sense, given the setting. But it’s hot in here, isn’t it? And there’s times it’s really hot in here, so I don’t know. Like, I think she messes with the heater, which, if it helps, fine. I can manage. I just think one of us should try something to help, it can’t just be that there’s nothing we can do. If not me, someone else.”

“You must really care about her.”

“Maybe? But it’s not like I want anyone else here to get sick.”

“What about when I was sick?” I asked, and it seemed like my bitterness was really starting to show, yet I meant no malice.

“I never noticed, and next thing I know, bam. You’re in the hospital.”

I see. I really didn’t need to hold it against anyone, seeing as I kept it a secret until it got bad enough that I had to be admitted.

“I’m curious. Is it still a crush or something else?”

She lowered her head.

“I...I don’t know. Sometimes I get these ideas about her and I, like being pinned to the wall, or being kissed all over, or being put in a headlock, but then I’m not really sure if I want those things or if I just think I should want them. It’s really weird, like, I know I can be a lot sometimes, and I’ve been trying to ease up, but I don’t know how to act sometimes and it comes out bad. I really am trying, but it’s hard when I don’t know what I want.”

That she found herself able to admit such a thing to me, I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit proud.

“Just be patient. Some things take a while to figure out,” I replied, not sure if that was the right piece of advice.

“I know I admire her, though. I really don’t want to disappoint her and I’m really hard on myself when I feel like I do.”

If anything, you may find yourself being the one disappointed, I thought. One of those things that was better left unsaid.

“Like I said, be patient with yourself, and with her. You may not think so, but there are things she finds difficult as well.”

“I’ll try…”

Of course, after such an honest conversation, Remora walked out of her room. Demetria looked up and the excitement she must have felt must have outweighed anything I tried to get through to her in conversation. I would say “ah, to be young again,” but I don’t think I ever acted in such a way toward anyone.

“Remora! Are you doing okay?! I can get you a warm towel! Or rub your back, if you need me to! Maybe you’ll warm up if we hold hands!” Demetria jumped up and down and all the while, Remora just stood there with a blank expression on her face, unsure how to respond.

“I know I’m not really good at cooking like Tigershark, but I could make you some soup! My mom used to do that all the time when I was sick!”

“Uh…” Remora was, without a doubt, at a loss for words.

“We could wrap ourselves in blankets! And hold each other real close! And –!” Then, Demetria stopped, and shook her head. Her voice lowered to an ashamed whisper as she said, “sorry,” before running off to her room.

Remora continued to stand, speechless, before she turned to me and asked, “why is she like that?”

For some reason, it never occurred to me that Remora didn’t see the signs. After all, it was so obvious to anyone else.

“You mean you don’t know?” I leaned forward and asked.

“Know what?”

“Do you not know what a crush is?”

She made a gesture where one palm of hers was flat, while the other was folded like she was about to claw at someone, then squeezed the flat palm.

“No, not literal. Like...infatuation?”

“Oh. Of course I know that.” She blinked, then asked. “So that’s what her deal is?”

I nodded.

“If that’s all it is, then if I just have sex with her, it’ll go away, right?”

I…I sure was glad I never brewed myself some tea, because otherwise I would have spat it all out.

“What?! How do you figure that?!”

“I mean, get it over with, problem solved, right?”

“That would just wind her up more!” I was exasperated. Sheesh. “Right when I thought I had your thought process figured out, you go and floor me with this.”

“Floor...you?”

I shook my head, my palm against my forehead.

“I don’t see what the problem is. If I don’t have anything going on, as long as the other person is satisfied, I don’t mind. It’s not like I feel anything from it, anyway.”

Huh. Learned something new, I guess. Even so…

“I don’t think that’s the right idea for this situation,” I informed her.

“Why not? I can’t have this keep going on. She does all these things that I don’t understand and it frustrates me. She always tries to get my attention and wants me to be impressed by simple things and sometimes thinks I’m mad at her, when I really just don’t want to talk or am just confused. Then, the rare moments she says something serious, it’s also something I don’t understand because I’m not used to being questioned. I’m not used to it.”

After all that, she was in a huff, but she continued.

“I’m used to not understanding people. But I’m not used to being told things that permeate my thoughts for days on end as I struggle to find the answer. I can’t deal with the constant focus on me. Those weird requests and reactions. It’s too much.”

“Please be patient with her,” I tried to reason. “She’s a little lost in life right now and doesn’t really understand what she wants. I know it can be hard to deal with, but I don’t think she means bad.”

Whatever my intention was with that, it was lost on her. She took a second, then replied:

“Maybe in other cases, I could be patient. If she were a target, I could bide my time, as long as the job was done. This is different. I need this dealt with now.”

She then walked toward Demetria’s room. Before I did, I called to her.

“Are you really going to...err…?”

“No. I’m just going to talk. I need to make sure this is resolved.”

I watched her approach the door, give it a few knocks with the back of her hand, and then the door opened for her. As it closed, I too began to think of the both of them, but with a different matter:

Now that I was back, the plan would soon be in action. I knew Remora intended all of us to be a part of it, and while Demetria survived that mansion incident, and there was the ‘girls night out’ with Sunny, I still wasn’t sure it was a good idea for someone like her to be involved in such a dangerous excursion. That went for Tigershark, as well. No matter how strong she was, she was still a kid, and I just couldn’t imagine the idea of putting a child in danger. Especially considering…

I’m going to have to discuss this, won’t I?

Maybe that’s what I had been avoiding, but that didn’t make sense. I was excited to hear about it at the time, and it seemed like it would benefit all of us. No, I think it had to be something else. Just like what I had told Sunny. There was a disconnect, and I too no longer knew what I wanted.

So I waited. It wasn’t that I had always exhibited patience throughout my life, but I saw things as a nice cup of tea: in order to get the desired flavor, it needed to sit for a little while.

That was a nice sentiment, but after a while, and them still in that room, my desire to find out what their conversation was about took over, and I got up out of my seat and motioned through the hallway. I stood in front of the door, unable to hear anything. I was sure that if I leaned my ear closer, I could have caught something, but I decided against it.

This feels voyeuristic.

More than that, I found I had no real interest in listening in aside from a mild curiosity.

I turned back and headed toward my desk, when I heard laughter from the two of them.

Oh. That sounds...positive?

Before I could reach the desk, I heard the door opened and out stepped Remora.

“Were you listening in on us?” She asked, and I turned around.

“I only heard laughter. I assume it went well?” I replied with a softened voice, and tried to work in a smile. In turn, she looked away.

“It was uncomfortable.”

“Oh? Why? Did she say or do something to make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s not that. I just don’t like to talk about myself in such a revealing manner. Which I did, that is, if she picked up on enough things, anyway.”

“Well, if it was so uncomfortable, why did you do it?”

“Because it needed to happen.”

As I sat back in my chair, I addressed Remora, which I was sure she was tired of having any kind of conversation.

“At the risk of possibly making you more uncomfortable, may I speak with you for a bit?” I inquired as I motioned for her to sit. She took her seat in the swivel chair in front of my desk.

“Is it important?” She asked.

“I believe it is,” I replied. “It’s about the mission we’ve discussed at the hospital.”

“Yeah? What of it?”

“I don’t think we should take Demetria along,” I began. “I don’t think she could handle something like that.”

“She’s more capable than you realize. We already discussed it, too. As long as all of us work on protecting each other, there should be no problem,” she explained. I still had my concerns.

“Nor do I think we should bring Tigershark along.”

“Fine. She’ll stay here,” she was quick to compromise. But that wasn’t what I was getting at.

“I don’t like the idea of her being by herself, either. I doubt much harm would come to her within the diner, but I still don’t feel comfortable with it,” I argued. By now she must have thought I was just being difficult to work with. Oh well. Same could be said about her.

“Then what do you propose?” She asked, and I got to thinking. Once I figured out a solution, it really was a contradiction.

“We all go together, but after a certain point, probably once things get too bad, one of us heads back with Tigershark. It doesn’t matter which of us does so, I’ll even volunteer if I have to, but I think it’s better that way.”

“How will that work without being noticed?”

“First, nothing is certain. But, worst case scenario, I don’t think she’d want to be there to see or hear it. Second, I’m sure you can work up a distraction.”

“Is that all you wanted to discuss?”

I gave her a short nod, which prompted her to tilt her head.

“Sorry, I guess I’m not done after all,” I added.

“That sounds like you, all right.”

Ha. As if the rest of what I was about to say would.

“I thought over many things while I was in the hospital,” I told her. “I don’t expect you to understand as I hardly understand, myself. But I’ve been evaluating how I’ve been, all the things I’ve done, and I have to ask, do you think of me as a clown?”

“No,” she answered. “I’ve managed to dig up some of your history, and through all your schemes and resources you’ve acquired through manipulation, it would leave some to think that you were building up something, or that there was something complex about you. But I think I understand now that that’s not the case. Rather, you seem to do things just to see if you can. You’re neither a clown nor a court jester, because you don’t seek to amuse anyone but yourself.”

Ah, there it was. Funny how the one who understood people the least would be the easiest one to talk to.

“You may be right about that,” I admitted, without a hint of amusement. “You know, when I was younger, I would make myself busy with little things I didn’t really need to do, all to make myself seem busy. There were men who I dated, or had relations with, anyway, who I would have them wait for arranged dates and ‘schedule them in’. I suppose that’s not too abnormal for someone busy, but I would also demand that they call to confirm our arrangements. As I told them, the reason behind it was that I always had something going on, and I never knew when something important might come up. The truth was, most of the time I just wasn’t interested in them, no matter how attractive I found them or how much I meant to them.”

“Why does that matter? Dwelling on those things doesn’t matter considering you’re much older now,” she replied, and she was right to say so. None of those relationships lasted, through no fault of them, and just the fact that they often caught on to how little I cared for it.

“That’s the thing: I don’t think I’m all that different now. Aside from Sunny, my daughter, and to an extent, Tigershark, I feel I care little for others.”

“Not even me?” She asked, and I found it odd. Just as odd as her earlier statement about how to deal with Demetria.

“Why do you sound disappointed? I thought you didn’t care about others.”

“I don’t, but it’s just that you’ve tried to be accommodating toward me, so I just thought that you did.”

“You don’t have to care about someone to be nice to them. I try to be welcoming toward everyone I work with.”

“I see.”

Although there wasn’t really any emotion behind her voice, she still seemed disappointed by my answer. I just didn’t know what else to say about it.

“Look, it’s not that I can’t or won’t ever. It’s just a strange feeling I have. It’s just like you said, I had no particular reason behind the things I did, except for that they provided me amusement. But now they do nothing for me. I’ve started to feel a sense of emptiness about it all and I wonder how I managed to keep up such a carefree facade for so long. It’s like I’m trying to put on an act like I am how I’ve always been, but I don’t think I’ve ever been genuine. I feel like it’s growing harder to mask my bitterness and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life, if anything.”

She wasted no time in her response, as she leaned forward, her elbow on the desk, and her hand covering the right half of her mouth, as if she were about to tell me a secret and she didn’t want anyone else to know.

“I’ll be honest with you, this isn’t exactly the happiest place on earth,” she rasped, and any other day, I would have let out a chuckle. I think I had reached my quota.

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

“If anything, I’m surprised it’s just now starting to affect you,” she continued. “I mean, the harsh weather conditions, the isolated area, the many deaths that have occurred, it’s enough to make anyone bitter.”

“That’s why I I admire Sunny so much. See, her carefree attitude is genuine. We’ve had hardships and she can be fairly rational at times, but through it all, she’s kept a positive attitude.”

“I imagine it helps to have someone like her around to get you by,” Remora concurred. I felt a dizziness befall me and I no longer desired to remain on the subject on hand. Or rather, I no longer desired to be the subject at hand.

“By the way, what made you choose this place?” I asked instead. She shrugged in response.

“It seemed the most fitting place to be, given my condition. That, and...this feels like the closest to a home that I know. I believe I was born in the area, or at least, I was found somewhere close by.”

“I think I can see the logic in that,” I replied after some thought. Then, one last question came to mind. Something that I never thought to ask, but felt like I should have been curious about.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I’m just curious, why Remora? There’s no pun associated with it, and not to mention, you never changed your last name along with it.”

She scoffed. Or chuckled. It was hard to tell, really.

“Yeah...real careless on my part. There’s a funny story about that, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“It was sometime when I first arrived in this timeline, I wasn’t yet recognized, I had just changed my hair to red, and I felt free to go wherever I wanted. So I walked through a random city one day and came across an aquarium. There was one large tank with sharks inside, and next to those sharks were these weird fish with suction cups. Next to the tank was the name of said fish, and it said ‘remora’. I found it odd how those things latched on those sharks, and how the shark just...let it. I knew it wasn’t that interesting, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away, either.”

“So that’s why?” I asked.

“No, otherwise I’d have walked into a sandwich shop long ago and decided my name was Turkey Club. Rather, I was about to move on to the other creatures on display, but then this young woman approached me, rather out of the blue, too. She said hi, and I didn’t know what to say. Like, she asked if I liked fish, and I told her that they tasted good. Then she started to ramble on about if she were a fish or something, I don’t remember. But I do remember her stomach growled, and people do act weird when they’re hungry, so I offered a bit of money.”

“Did you ever learn that person’s name?” I asked, already having an idea who the mystery person was.

“No. It was a random encounter, anyway. I’m surprised I even remember that much. Anyway, she asked for my name and I just drew a blank and said the first thing that came to mind, which was the name of that weird fish attached to the shark. After a while, I just decided the name would stick, since after all, I didn’t plan on meeting anyone, anyway.”

“About that young woman, what do you think you would say if you ever saw her again?”

Again, she shrugged in response.

“I don’t know. ‘You better have been eating well’ or something? Like, I know I for one don’t like being hungry, so I’d hope she’s been taking care of herself. But otherwise, I don’t know if I’d really have anything else to say, seeing as I doubt we’d run into each other again.”

“Yes, but hypothetical speaking, I think it’s interesting to imagine such scenarios. Those ‘what-ifs’.”

“Heh. I suppose so. Sometimes I think it’s a rather small world, even though I know the opposite’s true. Like, there’s so many people, but somehow you end up finding others who are connected to you in some way. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Indeed. That’s a good way to put it: small world. Short, even.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, never mind,” I told her. “It’s getting late and I know we all have many things ahead of us, so I should try to get some sleep.”

It felt odd, but I thought I could see just a hint of a smile on her face. I wondered if it was genuine, or if I even saw a smile at all.

“Yes, I agree. Rest, then,” and then she stood from her seat. I did the same.

“One last thing, Remora,” I added.

“Yes?”

“You seem different from how you were before as well,” I remarked, then headed toward the staircase to the attic so I could meet the one sunflower in this tundra. As I made my way up, I heard Remora’s voice from behind me.

“I don’t see how,” was her reply, and though there wasn’t so much of a warmth to her voice, I didn’t quite catch the same iciness that I was used to.

Then again, I still wasn’t quite sure if I was correct on how I perceived anyone to be anymore, let alone myself.

#writing #slice of life #melancholy #fiction #ray sunshine #velvet and coriander cameo #remora #sunny #tigershark #ray is back #lots of talking #long chapter #story

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always5hineee · 4 years

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Profit Margin- Chapter 11: One Time Offer

Chapter warnings: Mild language and mention of intense themes

Word count: 1507

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"State your name."

"Y/N..."

"Full name."

"Y/N... (M/L) L/N."

She answered all of his preliminary questions with ease. Age, heritage, living situation, parental situation, life prior to her kidnapping, etcetera. It became a bit stranger when he started asking about... stranger concepts. Childhood trauma. Experience with weapons. Ever having been threatened with a weapon. Sexual assaults, familial or otherwise. Experience with anxiety. Experience with depression. Any mental or physical diagnoses. Past relationships. Although she felt that all of these were quite intrusive, she answered as honestly as possible.

The entire time, he had been jotting things down on some sheet of paper. After he had stopped, he started asking her to walk him through the steps of what the people who knew her were going through right now. Would they look for her? What were the chances of her getting rescued? At this point, she became even more confused. Was he trying to gauge the danger of holding onto her for so long? But in that case, why ask the other questions?

When it seemed he was satisfied, he stood from his desk, looking at her.

"Well, I wouldn't say you're much more special than I had initially expected, but you do intrigue me to some extent." Looking up to the area behind her, he tapped on the desk, causing a change in the room. While the back and front walls remained unchanged, the two side walls shifted colors, becoming windows. They had been some form of one-way mirror? Now, she saw Lucas, Xiaojun, and Hendery lined up on the left, and YangYang, Ten, and a third person on the right. Looking closely, her heart sank as she saw the familiar form of yet another of her idols... WinWin.

"All of them have been listening to your answers. Now, we hold a debate, followed by a vote. Of course, I make the decisions, but I've rarely given any executive orders. We function as a group." Raising his hands, he said quite loudly, "You can all come in." They filed in through the doors. Hendery was smiling slightly creepily as usual, Ten and Xiaojun were stoic, YangYang and WinWin looked fairly nonchalant, and Lucas looked incredibly worried.

"I am willing to allow Y/N to train as a member of our backup team." Kun stated bluntly. Of course, we'll have to find a way to control and test her actual loyalty, as well as keep her ready for sale should it not work out. Aside from that, our other option is to dispose of her immediately." He finished. "On that note, feel free to discuss."

"I think the answer is clear here." Hendery was the first to jump in. "Do we really want to allocate all of that time, all of those resources, into such a shaky investment? What happens if she kills us and escapes? Or gets us caught? We should just take our half a mil and go."

"At the same time, added support could make for a better return." WinWin mentioned. "We've always been seven people, we're unsure if that's the peak. It could be that adding an eighth exponentially grows our output, and thus our funds."

"The risk is too high." Hendery shot back. "Plus, who's gonna want to take the effort to train her?"

"I'd do it." Ten cut in. She was surprised, but even Kun seemed as though he wasn't expecting it.

"Alright, so we have two votes for keep, one for reject." Kun tallied up. "Any other weigh-ins?"

"I'd warn you that if you want her back up to her initial value, we'd have to treat her bruises and other wounds. We have yet to check up on the actual damage." Xiaojun cut in. "It could take me anywhere from a week to a month to completely restore her. In that case, you'd have the time to test this little theory out."

"Three for yes. YangYang?"

"I... honestly don't even care." the boy shrugged. "If Ten's the one dealing with her, that's no skin off my back. If you want me to pick a side, though, I kinda have to agree with Hendery. As much as I like the idea of money, it just seems a little risky."

"Two no, three yes? Lucas, you could even it out if you wanted, or make it a majority. What do you think?" The blood drained from Lucas's face, obviously worried. On the one hand, they were already suspicious of his relationship to Y/N, but on the other, if he went against her, it was all up to Kun. Swallowing hard, he looked over to her.

"I trust WinWin's judgement on financials, so my vote is keep." He steadied his voice. "We'll just have to keep an eye on her. If something goes haywire, there are plenty of people willing to pay good money for young girls." As he said this, Hendery's expression changed from passive amusement to sheer infuriation. Kun ignored the tension, addressing the decision.

"In that case, it looks like Y/N is here to stay. Ten, walk her with Xiaojun to the medical bay, get her cleaned up. You get one chance to train her properly. Worst case scenario, if something goes completely wrong, we can sell her in parts. Lucas, you stay, I want to speak with you." Her heart skipped beat. Shit. Had she gotten him in trouble? He looked sick to his stomach as he walked towards Kun's desk, but she couldn't stay to see as Xiaojnun and Ten took her away.

"Do we need to restrain you?" Ten asked.

"No."

"Good." They led her towards what she assumed was the medical bay, on yet another different floor. They asked if she knew where the stairs were, and she explained that she was actually very unfamiliar with the entirety of the building. Understanding, he promised to show her around after they checked her out.

When they arrived at the medical bay, she looked around in awe. There was a long room with what had to have been ten sets of cots, each with open curtains between each. They had her follow them to the back, where there was a thin door. Upon opening it, she saw a few real beds, several large tables, and the walls lined with counters and cabinets- it was a weird mix of sleeping quarters and a doctor's office.

"Here, sit down." Xiaojun offered, patting a hand on the bed. "Are you wearing anything under that?" Her eyes widened in horror as he asked this. She began sputtering for an answer, trying to decide whether to run or slap him. "No, no! Not like that!" He said in a loud, awkward voice, noting her expression. "I- I just meant so that I could look at your bruises properly- Not-" She mentally scorned herself for reacting so poorly.

"O-oh, yeah, it's fine."

"Okay, well in that case, Ten, do you mind stepping out?" The man looked slightly hesitant, but nodded and turned around to leave.

"I'll be outside the door." Xiaojun nodded in agreement. As he pulled together his tools, she awkwardly took off the dress. She knew many fans of WayV had probably dreamed of taking off their clothes in front of a member, but definitely not like this... He instructed her to lay down flat, pulling on a pair of disposable rubber gloves.

"Alright, tell me if this hurts." He pressed a hand to her side, assumedly because there was some bruising there. Although it was a bit achy, that was the case for most of her body, so she said nothing. "Okay, next." They continued this process for a few minutes. When he pressed against one of her thighs, the spot that had been banged into the floor caused her to wince. She didn't mention it, but he noticed easily. In addition, one of her upper arms was badly bruised, along with her temple.

"It seems like you have no broken bones or serious organ damage, just heavy bruising. I'll give you some countertop pain killers. If you find yourself having PTSD or going into shock: nightmares, anxiety, all of that, you just let me know, okay?" She nodded, crossing her legs awkwardly. She didn't feel comfortable without the dress, as much as she had hated it before. Taking the gloves off, he opened a few cabinets, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a little white bottle, and a pair of flip flips.

"It isn't much, but it'll be nicer than having to wear the dress. You can wear these for now, I'll have Ten take you down to the closet on your way to the training grounds. We'll be outside, you can come when you're ready." He left the room, leaving her on the bed. Well, apparently they trusted her enough not to find a scalpel in here and skin them alive. She knew she wouldn't be successful. It would be best to bide her time for now...

Go to Chapter 12

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ami-incants · 4 years

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RUNE JUNE: DAY 3 - Consulting the Runes Part 1

Today I'm going to look at what to ask the runes and how to draw a spread. I'm not going to get into meanings, as each rune will get it's own day later in the month. Following on from yesterday’s post, I'm going to use ‘Oracle’ as a catch-all to refer to wherever you feel your rune wisdom comes from, whether it's deities, spirits, ancestors, the Higher Self etc.

Can I only do readings for myself?

That largely depends on individual belief, mainly related to where you feel the runes’ knowledge comes from. Some people feel that the runes only allow you to access your inner intuition, in which case readings would be much less reliable when reading for someone else, as you won’t know every detail of the situation. Personally, I do readings for other people and even those I don’t know particularly well have said that they find my readings accurate. When discussing reading for someone else, I use the term ‘querent’ to refer to the person I’m drawing on behalf of. Readings for others can be a great way to get to know the runes and their meanings, as when pulling for yourself all the time you tend to pull the same runes which apply to your current situation.

TL;DR - No.

What should I ask?

The first thing to know with the runes is that the thing you want to talk about won't always be the thing your Oracle wants to talk about. Sometimes it's because you're dwelling on something that's best moved on from, there's something more pressing to tackle, you're asking about things the Oracle doesn't know about or you've ignored their advice on the topic too many times and they're sulking about it. To avoid the frustration this causes, I now ask the runes if I can do a reading before I start (using the yes/no method explained below). I use the following questions in this order:

1. Can I do a reading now? 2. Can I do a reading for [X]? 3. Can I do a reading on [topic] for [X]? 4. Can I do a [reading type] on [topic] for [X]?

It may seem unnecessary, as you could just skip to question 4 and get a yes, but I've been turned down often enough that I've learnt going through it this way helps identify the problem quicker, if there is one.

Unless you’re using the yes/no method (explained below), it’s best to keep questions broad. ‘What do I/the querent need to know’ is where I usually start from and you can add on a time period (today, this week, this month etc) or a topic (about work, my relationship, my family, my health etc).

For a spread, I tend to say “This is a [reading type] spread for [querent] about [topic]” (if there is a topic) while shaking or handling the runes, and then concentrate on the question/aspect of the issue that I’m drawing.

There are some ethical matters to consider - mainly whether it’s okay to draw runes about someone else without their knowledge. It’s generally considered bad manners, and many rune readers will refuse to read for someone else if you ask them to. Even if they were willing, it may be difficult to focus on a person they don’t know and aren’t in the presence of. Some people may ask the runes if it is okay to pull on behalf of a friend who hasn’t and possibly can’t give express permission at that moment. Where relationships are concerned, wording can help overcome this. “Do they love me?” is very specific and relies on the Oracle being able to access the partner’s feelings. “What is in store for [querent]’s relationship with [partner]?” is broader and is likely to give you a good idea of the answer to the original question.

TL;DR - Keep your questions to broad topics (except for the yes/no method).

How do I choose a rune?

There's a lot of different variations when it comes to rune reading, and it's really a case of going with what feels right to you. Here's the different ways I've seen people use to select a rune, whether they're doing a simple question or a spread. Whichever method you choose, you should have your question, topic or querent firmly in your mind. Please note that these ‘names’ are just my personal ways of referring to the different styles, I don’t know if there’s any actual names for them.

🌸 Shake & Take: Give the runes a shake in their pouch and reach in and take a rune. Some people take the first one they touch, I like to get my hand right in there and feel around until one feels 'right'. I don't usually shake first, but move them around with my hand in the bag before choosing one. Sometimes when doing this, more runes than I was intending to take want to be picked. 🌸 Shake & Tip: Some people don't like to put their hand in the bag as they feel it disturbs the runes' energy, so will carefully tip out a single rune. This can be good for people doing readings for others and not wanting that person's energy on the runes, as they can see you're not choosing the runes intentionally by feeling the engraving. 🌸 Spread & Flip: Others prefer to lay out all of the runes face-down, mix them up and then see which ones it feels right to turn over.

TL;DR - I mean, just do what feels right to you.

Using the Yes/No method

This is useful when you’re feeling indecisive about something relatively simple or looking for a bit of clarification. Nine of the runes in the Elder Futhark look the same whichever way up you look at them, and the other sixteen can be reversed, also called merkstave. For the yes/no method, runes that are pulled merkstave indicate ‘no’ and runes pulled upright indicate ‘yes’. If one of the nine irreversible runes are pulled, I’ve most commonly seen it indicates you should ask again. In my experience, I have discerned that an irreversible rune can indicate one of the following:

💮 You weren’t concentrating on the question. Focus and try again. 💮 Your question wasn’t clear. Reword, making it more specific. 💮 Your Oracle doesn’t believe it is in your best interests to know at this time. Ask them if that’s the case. 💮 Your Oracle doesn’t know, possibly because there are too many variables at this time. Ask them if that’s the case.

Although it’s not necessary, it can be worth noting which rune you pull as occasionally they’ll be trying to tell you something more than just yes/no, even if you make your intention clear.

About Spreads

So I’m not going to go into all of the spreads I use, because most are detailed on this handy website and I’d just be rehashing what’s there and taking credit for it. If I’m not sure which spread to use, I ask the runes using the yes/no method. Some of the spreads are well suited to asking a question based on a particular topic, and some are already geared towards a topic. Tarot spreads generally transfer well for runes, so you can make use of those too if it feels right.

While I don’t bother for yes/no questions, when pulling a spread I find it helpful to set the mood. For me, that means casting a circle, lighting a candle, maybe incense. I lay the runes drawn onto a cloth, in the shape and order indicated for that spread. You may see the same spreads laid out in a different order from one website to another, as some follow the modern western left-to-right method and others prefer the more traditional (for the runes) right-to-left method.

When pulling spreads, it’s sometimes recommended to pull a rune, note it down and then return it to the bag before drawing the next (slightly more difficult if you’re using the Spread & Flip method). This is so that you draw from the whole set each time, and runes have the chance to be pulled more than once if they are needed. When doing spreads for others, I provide an image of their completed reading. If returning the runes to the bag, I have to find them all again at the end and possibly edit two or more images together if the same rune is pulled more than once. To try and avoid doing this unnecessarily, I ask the runes if I should draw and return or draw and lay (using yes/no). To test the accuracy of this, I have sometimes returned the runes when they have said it wasn’t necessary. The results were that when they have said to draw and lay, I haven’t pulled the same rune more than once. When they said to draw and return (admittedly, doesn’t happen often), I have always pulled at least one rune more than once.

When interpreting a spread, it’s important to think about how they relate to their position in the spread as well as to each other. To work this out, I go through the spread in stages.

🌼 Write down the questions and runes with principal connotations (for me, that’s gender, element and deities). 🌼 Consider each rune in conjunction with it’s question and write down your initial thoughts. 🌼 Consider the Cycle of Initiation (which I will discuss on another day). 🌼 Check my favourite websites and jot down meanings that jump out at me, considering the questions. 🌼 Consider the story of the reading, looking for patterns, similarities and complementary sentiments in the different runes. 🌼 Take the principal connotations into account and finalise.

If I’m not sure about the meaning of a spread (usually when the Oracle has picked a different topic to what I asked about, or has taken things in a direction I wasn’t expecting) I pull a single rune, sometimes called a Rune of Clarification or Odin’s Rune. Yes/no questions can also be used for clarification, but for either method all runes should be returned to the bag first.

It’s a good idea to have a notebook where you can jot down your rune readings. It can be useful if you want to look back over a reading again after learning and increasing your understanding, and also for noticing patterns. There may be particular runes or themes which keep coming up that you may miss the importance of in a single reading. More ways to consult the runes will be discussed in Part 2 and 3.

#runes #runestones #ami reads runes #ami talks #rune reading #oracle #how to read runes #rune reading 101 #consulting the runes part 1 #rune june #rune spreads #yes/no #long post

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saiilorstars · 4 years

Text

Dare To Forget Me

// Story Masterlist //

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Original female character

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Author’s Note: This story will follow SVU’s cases as well as arcs of my own creations.

I only own the OC, Montserrat.

Montserrat’s face claim: Ellie Kemper

Summary: Detective Montserrat Novak originally planned to transfer to SVU but mysteriously withdrew her papers. Nine months later, Olivia Benson pulls her profile up when Montserrat becomes a material witness to an SVU case. From there on out, Montserrat is permanently interrelated with SVU whether she would want or not. Now she finds herself dealing with Detectives who strive to make justice for those in need and an ADA whom she seems to have a talent at pulling all his right strings.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Ch: 1: A Runaway.

Sirens blared in a cold New York street. Flashes of light from firefighters, ambulances and police cars joined together in the street, lighting the buildings on both sides of the street. Most of them were business buildings but the few that were apartments had their windows opened to see below.

Unfortunately, there was a victim being brought into an ambulance. The girl was unconscious but it wasn't too surprising due to the state she was in. Someone hurt her with passion.

"Ma'am? Just wait here, a paramedic will be with you shortly," a cop was telling a second woman, a ginger, on the scene. Said woman was holding a towel around her palm to slow down the blood of a cut. Her dark brown eyes flickered from the cops to the ambulances, scared of what would come next. She knew the process all too well but the moment wasn't the right one.

As soon as the cop turned her attention away, the ginger made a getaway. Due to the gravity of the situation, it was easy slipping away from the scene. The cops hadn't finished taping off the crime scene and by the time someone figured out she was missing, she was already in a cab.

~0~

Sergeant Olivia Benson and Detective Amanda Rollins reported to the crime scene only twenty minutes after the arrival of the others. By that time, the victim had already been taken to Bellevue hospital. Once the Sergeant got word of what happened in a brief minute, she went off on the attentive cop in question.

"You're telling me we had a witness who saw everything and you lost her?" Olivia Benson had been at the job for about fourteen years and yet somehow she was still stunned sometimes by the mistakes she saw in her line of work.

The cop stammered while he made an excuse for his lack of attention but Olivia knew it was pointless to even argue it. The mistake was done.

"You know what, just tell us you got a name from her."

"I didn't," the cop hated his situation at the moment. "It was a rush and -and it's my first night on the field."

"What did she look like?" Amanda tried another way to get some valuable information. The cop looked too green to hassle for the mistake.

"Uh, dark orange hair…" the cop thought hard for a moment, "Dark brown eyes. Baggy clothes. She was wearing a baggy green jacket. Um...she had a purse but she took that I guess. And she had wound on her palm." The last detail pulled both women's attention. The cop realized he should have started with that. "I-I guess the perp must have cut her or something. We gave her a cloth in the meantime."

"Great, and you still let her get away," Olivia mumbled to herself after jotting down the description. "Thanks."

As she and Amanda walked off, the blonde detective thought about something. "If she had a cut - a stab wound…"

"Then she had to have gone to a hospital," Olivia said for she had thought the same thing too.

While their victim underwent her treatment - remaining unconscious for the entire duration - the detectives and Sergeant put all their focus on getting as much evidence as they could from the scene. A decent amount of that time was also put into finding the missing witness who turned out to be the only witness.

"Our victim-" Detective Nick Amaro was pinning a photograph of their rape victim on their pinboard, "-Hayley Connors, is still under but we do have the obvious evidence of a violent attack. CSU found blood at the scene but so far it only matches that of Hayley's."

"Yeah, but it corroborates with the story of the knife used to cut our missing witness," Detective Fin Tutuola, or Fin, reminded them. "But let me guess, knife hasn't been recovered yet?"

Detective Sonny Carisi's languid hand gesture was enough to answer. "If only it were that easy, huh?"

"You should know that by now," Detective Munch added on with the same sarcasm.

Amanda scoffed from her seat at the table. Her attention was on her computer screen where a footage of a hospital ER room was streaming. "I may have a view on the witness, though.

"Hey, Liv?" Fin called their temporary Sergeant from her office. "Amanda may have the witness!"

Olivia came in a hurry to see the footage along with the others. Amanda replayed the specific time where a ginger in a green, baggy coat arrived at an ER reception desk. She was still holding the cloth the cop mentioned she'd been given at the scene.

"Definitely her," Amanda concluded once she checked over the description they had of the woman.

"She looks familiar," Olivia's admission came as a surprise to the detectives. She met their curious gazes with confused expression. "I don't know who she is but...the face…"

The footage didn't exactly show the woman all too well but it was enough to get the case moving. Still getting that brief familiar vibe, Olivia decided to go to the hospital herself, along with Nick, to see what they could figure out about the woman.

~ 0 ~

"Yes, I remember her," a nurse at the ER reception of the Lenox Hill Hospital nodded her head after Nick showed her the photograph of the ginger woman. "Poor thing came with a slashed palm."

"Great, did you get her name? Her address?"

The nurse gave a kind smile and shook her head. "Sorry Detectives, I'm not at liberty to give you that information."

"It's Sergeant, first of all," Olivia set her hands on her hips and sternly looked at the woman, "And second of all, this woman is a material witness for our rape case. Besides, she was hurt too and odds are it was by the same perp so she needs to speak with us."

The nurse looked around the room, clearly in a conflict. "I can't give you the address because she didn't put one down."

Nick and Olivia exchanged glances with each other. This mysterious woman was turning out to be more of a hassle than previously thought.

"She didn't put one down?" Olivia repeated. "And you didn't notice that?"

"We were a little more preoccupied with her state," the nurse said, about to elaborate when Nick cut in.

"Give us her name then. Now, please."

The nurse sighed but ultimately obliged. "She wrote down Montserrat Novak on the paperwork."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "That was her name?" the nurse nodded her head, definitely looking sure of it. Behind her, both Nick and Amanda exchanged knowing glances. "Did she say anything else? Where she was coming from?"

"No, she was just here for the slash," the nurse replied.

"Okay…" Olivia gave her thank you and turned away, but even her walking pace had picked up in an unusual stride.

"Hey, Liv, you think what we're thinking?" Nick had to ask as they exited the building.

"I knew she looked familiar," Olivia said, though neither Nick nor Amanda wasn't sure if it had been the answer to his question or if she'd just been talking to herself.

~ 0 ~

"Detective Montserrat Novak from the Homicide division in Queens," Olivia pulled up the photograph of the familiar ginger woman for the rest of the squad to see. "She also happens to be a cousin of one of our previous ADAs: Casey Novak."

"Who's now Manhattan's Homicide ADA," Fin nodded.

"She was our witness?" Sonny raised an eyebrow. The mysterious detective seemed too put together to be such a mess for a witness.

"Yeah," Olivia took a seat at the edge of the table, arms crossed.

"And you know her how…?" Nick asked the winning question everyone was thinking about.

"I don't know her," Olivia clarified first. "I knew of her."

"Casey never mentioned she had a family member on the job," Munch leaned back against his chair, eyes examining the photo of Detective Novak. "They don't look alike."

"If you guys haven't met then...what?" Amanda shrugged. "Did Casey talk about her or something?"

"Almost nine months ago, Montserrat-" Olivia pointed at the screen, "-was set to be my replacement at SVU after I took the Sergeant's test."

"My partner?" Nick immediately took interest at that moment. Olivia gave another nod.

"Clearly she didn't make it or else I wouldn't be here," Sonny smirked. His transfer papers were put in faster after the spot before him opened up. Now he knew why.

"What a shame," Fin's joke was met a playful roll of eyes from the new detective.

"So where is she, then?" Munch asked. "Back at Homicide?"

"I have no idea," Olivia got up from the table, unfolding her arms to gently graze her fingers over the table. "She had all the paperwork to transfer - she looked like the right candidate - but then she just retracted. There was never an explanation."

"Should we start making calls to Homicide?" Amanda wondered as she closed her laptop.

"Why bother when we can go straight to the family. Let's just ask Casey," Finn wondered what the ADA would have to say about this once they informed her.

"At this point, it might just be easier," Munch agreed on the tactic.

"It is," Olivia nodded and started heading out.

"Wait a minute," Sonny called to the woman, only stopping her for a second, "Shouldn't we call Barba then first?"

"Why? I'll get him there anyways," Olivia shrugged and continued on out.

"A Sergeant and a fellow ADA to deal with?" Finn turned to his co-workers, unable to keep his smile from showing. "I'd like to see what poor Casey does."

~ 0 ~

Olivia was set to find Casey and have a civilized conversation about the situation. She honestly didn't think they'd need to subpoena Montserrat, but if things got to that point then she wouldn't hesitate.

This was exactly what her conversation with SVU's ADA, Rafael Barba, sounded like. He was surprised to find their missing witness was related to a fellow co-worker.

"I think Casey will understand our situation and she'll get us in contact with Montserrat," Olivia said for the third time since she got to Rafael's office.

"It sounds like your assuring yourself," he noticed.

She stopped pacing in front of his desk to momentarily look at him. "I worked with Casey for years. She was our longest ADA so she knows exactly what our situation looks like."

"Right," Rafael agreed on that matter, but he then added, "However, I doubt any of her cases had her own family as a witness. If this Montserrat purposely ran from the scene it doesn't exactly give good credibility."

"We don't know what happened nor why she did," Olivia pointed him to stop. "But she's a Detective - and she wanted to transfer to SVU - so she should be willing to help."

"Exactly, she should be willing to help us. But she ran off," Rafael didn't think he needed to explain more than that. "Exactly what kind of Detective does that?"

"You start asking those questions, we lose the case even before we step into the courtroom," Olivia warned. She checked her phone for the time and saw it was past noon. "Casey's lunch hour ended, right?"

"Yeah," Rafael got up from his chair and levelled a look with the woman. "I have to warn you Olivia, Casey might just protect her cousin."

"I know Casey and she wouldn't. You know Casey and you know she wouldn't," Olivia started heading for the office doors. "Plus, if we tell her that her cousin is our only witness in this case, she'll be more than willing to help us."

"She better because as of now, Detective Novak would be the only one who could tell us what happened," Rafael bitterly said as he followed Olivia. It irked him this runaway Detective was the only person who could make or break his case. "Hayley doesn't remember-"

"-yeah, because she was drugged," Olivia reminded him.

"True and I'll be sure to mention that in court. But the point still stands that she can't talk much about the rape if she doesn't remember."

"I know," Olivia sighed, about to retort when they both heard an ongoing argument from the hallway.

"...you know the deal…"

"Of course I do, Casey! I have to appear but - would you stop walking so fast!?"

"I have a meeting with a Detective-"

"-listen to me Casey!"

"Could it be that easy?" Rafael whispered to Olivia as the two continued to listen.

"Let's find out," Olivia stepped out into the hallway. As soon as they did, they spotted the familiar figure of Homicide ADA Casey Novak striding down the hall with a smaller ginger haired woman following behind her.

"I know it was wrong but I was scared!" the ginger woman was still shouting despite the attention she was getting from other people passing by. "I'm not at my best!"

"You know exactly what you need to do, Montse. They're good people-"

"-but it doesn't change my situation!"

Casey whirled around and met the woman's gaze. "You know what you need to do. And if you don't, I'll bring you in myself." She left the woman with that and headed into her office.

Olivia was not going to give the woman a chance to flee again. "Scuse me?" she started for the woman in a hasty pace. "Detective Montserrat Novak? I'm Sergeant Olivia Benson and I need to…" but Olivia trailed off when Montserrat slowly turned around.

There was one detail no one had bothered to give the SVU squad.

Montserrat Novak was pregnant.

#noblecrescentedit #law & order svu #svu #rafael barba x oc #rafael barba x original female character #rafael barba #olivia benson #sonny carisi #amanda rollins #fin tutuola #casey novak #svu fic #svu fanfiction

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detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3 - Similar Minds

Part 3/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 8526

Warnings: Swearing, mild suggestive banter, implied character death, traumatic car accident related flashback/panic attack.

Genre: Self-insert/Angst

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: Arriving in Camden, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detective Rachel, and Connor began investigating the AX400 case. Rachel is determined to show off her skills and impress Connor. However, things begin to go awry when the AX400 flees from the scene and the pair has to pursue it and the child in its care.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

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

I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m not a fan of car rides.

Driving, or at least before self-driving cars became the norm, I was more comfortable with. Hell, I actually really enjoyed car rides before.

But now that I was more acutely and painfully aware of my own mortality? It was like sitting in a tin can of death and impending doom for me. It’s why I always tried to take public transit. Which is strange because for the longest time, I did not trust public transit until I had no choice but to use it.

I watched the first episode of BBC’s Sherlock way back when, and since then, I did not trust public transit, especially taxis.

Granted, it’s not like I panic. I used to. I wasn’t able to ride in cars for a good long while, but after putting in the effort as well as doing the steps to overcome my fear that my psychologist recommended I take, I’m now able to at least tolerate car rides.

Do I like them? No. Do they give me anxiety and perhaps trigger me? Yes. But can I deal with them? Yes, depending on the circumstances. I’m not perfect and I have off days like everyone else.

But I’d like to think I was pretty good at hiding my anxiety. That was until I had both the pleasure and misfortune of being temporarily partnered with Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife, as he introduced himself as. “Are you alright, Rachel?” He asked me. “I’ve detected a large spike in your heart rate as well as a drop in temperature and signs of hyperventilation.” If I had remembered that he could literally do a scan of my vitals and know what’s wrong with me, I would’ve avoided this altogether. I wasn’t exactly a fan of feeling vulnerable in the police environment, but there was something so sincere about Connor’s queries. Which was strange, since he was an android and couldn’t really portray truth or lies differently. But maybe that was why he came off as sincere as he did.

I looked up at him, clutching tightly to my left arm. He was seated in the front beside Hank, since they were the ones that were actually partners and I was just their backup. Although, I knew I was more than that to Hank. As sour as he was, he liked my company, as much as I enjoyed pissing him off. I wasn’t like Gavin, though. I just mildly annoyed people with dumb or lewd jokes or my weird quirks and random thoughts.

Gavin was, well, an insufferable asshole.

I always had a feeling that Hank had a bit of a soft spot for me, and not in the creepy “old man coming onto a young vulnerable woman” sort of way. I think he recognized that I did some really good work despite my oddities. Hell, he even admitted that I was a better detective than a lot of them on the force (always glaring at Gavin when he said that). If I wasn’t working on a case, he’d get me to tag along on whatever case he was working on. Or he’d recommend the better cases to me, usually the harder ones that he didn’t want to deal with but couldn’t trust the others to take on either.

That last part kind of annoyed me, but the pride I felt after solving them every time sort of kept me from stopping him. Especially if it came with a jealous glare from Gavin. That was sheer nirvana on the spectrum of my “smug bastard” metre.

“Rachel?”

Connor calling me by name snapped me out of my thoughts. “Oh, sorry. I zoned out.” I quickly apologized, nervously adjusting my short hair and pushing my glasses up my nose. “What was the question?”

“I was just asking if you were alright.” Connor repeated.

“Oh, yeah! I’m fine.” I said, shuffling in my seat, trying somehow not to focus on the outside and inside of the self-driving car at the same time. “I just...don’t like car rides.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We’ll get there in about a minute.” Hank assured me, glancing back at me with a gruff smile. “And on the way back, you can play your music and tune out.”

I smiled appreciatively. He knew that playing and humming and singing to my music helped me stay calm and relax. “Thanks, Hank.”

The greying man gave me a nod and turned back around, however Connor’s gaze was glued to me. As he stared at me, I stared back at him. It wasn’t really threatening as it was odd, and I wasn’t really sure what he was thinking of. I noticed his LED was spinning yellow for a brief moment before it settled back to its pristine blue hue. “What profession usually shares the best gossip?” He suddenly asked me.

I squinted my eyes at him skeptically. Is this a test? A trick question? I tried to think about what a real answer to his question would be. “Uhhhh, I guess NSA agent?” I answered.

“Landscape development.” I tilted my head at him curiously. Huh? “After all, they’ve got dirt on just about everyone.”

My eyes immediately snapped shut as I took in a deep and sharp inhale and let it back out when I realized that Connor was actually telling me a joke. And a really bad one.

“Ah, Jesus fucking Christ. Not you, too.” Hank complained with a groan.

As much as I wanted to agree with him, I was trying really hard to fight a smile and a laugh as I sort of blinked my eyes at my shoes. As hard as I tried, I could feel the involuntary grin start spreading across my face and the urges of a snicker erupting in my belly. Eventually, I gave in and conceded defeat, bursting into a fit of begrudging giggles. “That was so bad, Connor.”

He seemed to blink in confusion. “You didn’t like it?” I could’ve sworn you saw wounded pride in his deep brown eyes. But not the brazen kind, the kind that made me want to wrap my arms around him and apologize.

“No no! I love it, unfortunately.” I said, still giggling and trying to play it off. “That was so bad, but it was also really clever.”

“I have more, if you’d like to hear them.” Connor offered.

“Please don’t encourage her.” Hank grumbled.

I then gave the android, whom I had already decided was a dork, a confident smirk. “How about I tell you one, first?” I suggested. “And you’re not allowed to look up the answer for it. That’s cheating.”

“Oh Jesus, here we go.” Hank sighed.

“I won’t.” Connor assured me, his facial expression not changing very much, but the corner of his mouth was ever so slightly upturned.

I tried to rack my brain for some of my favourite jokes, and I quickly remembered one that was always fun to tell. “What do you get when you mix a dyslexic, an insomniac, and an agnostic?” I asked him, my right eyebrow raised expectantly, my hands folded in my lap.

Connor paused for a moment before he answered. “I’m not sure.” He replied. “What do you get when you mix a dyslexic, an insomniac, and an agnostic?”

I found it sort of endearing that he repeated the whole question even though he didn’t have to. I put on my biggest and smuggest grin before I delivered the punchline. “Someone who lies awake at two in the morning wondering whether or not there’s a Dog.” I said with a small dramatic gesture of my hands as I leaned back in my seat.

From beside Connor, I heard Hank snicker. I couldn’t hold back my swollen sense of pride. “Okay, fine, that one was pretty clever.”

“See? You like my jokes, Hank.” I pressed insistently.

He scoffed. “Yeah, when they’re good.”

I raised both my eyebrows at him. “So, all of them, then.”

I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Alright, listen here, smartass.”

But he didn’t really have a response to my joke as I felt the car start slowing down and I realized that I actually forgot about my anxiety for the remainder of the trip. “We’re here.”

As Hank got out of the car, Connor remained there for a moment. “I thought it was clever, and I enjoyed it. I appreciate your sense of humour.”

Connor then got up after Hank, and I sat there briefly for a moment before getting out of the car to follow them. There was one thought that was swirling in my head at that moment. Did he do that on purpose? To distract me from the car ride?

I pulled my hood up as we approached, as I was not a fan of the rain, but didn’t feel like bringing an umbrella. It wasn’t raining hard enough to need one, I figured.

I saw a familiar face. Hank’s buddy, Ben Collins. I didn’t know him that well, personally, but we were on a first name basis and in all the interactions I’ve had with him, he was pretty friendly. “Mornin’, Hank.” He greeted, eyeing Connor and then myself. “I see you’ve got that with you.” I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of displeasure. I knew he wasn’t hostile, more just neutral. But it still stung somewhere in me to refer to Connor that way. “And Rachel, your favourite detective.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Ha ha, he asked me to come along and since I had nothing else to do and didn’t wanna miss out on this action, I decided to tag along.” I said coolly.

“Alright, no need to be jumpy. I was just askin’.” Ben said, not trying to start a fight.

I knew he meant nothing by it, but I didn’t want to be known as just “Hank’s favourite.” I had my own merits I was pretty damn proud of.

“She’s one of the best detectives there is in this city, so count yourself lucky I brought her along.” I smiled a brief smile at Hank. It was nice knowing that he always had my back.

“Not denying that, Hank.” Ben replied with a nonchalant shrug.

I folded my arms and regarded him patiently. “So, what have we got, Ben?”

The stocky white-haired man flipped open a notepad and I took mine own to start jotting down notes. “Well, it was seen in the convenience store down that way.” He gestured to the place, and I took note of it. “The cashier said that it was with a young girl and it asked for some cash for a place to spend.”

I looked up at him. “And?” I asked.

“It left, taking the girl with it.” Ben replied.

“So, nothing was taken.” I conjectured.

“Nope.” He affirmed. “It just left.”

I quickly took note of that. “Where else was it seen?”

“The only other place it was seen was the laundromat just over there.” I looked over at it and took note of it. “And hanging around the motel that way.” I looked over in that direction and took another note.

My notepad looked a lot like this:

Model AX400

Took off with a little girl

Belonged to Todd Williams (scumbag, I don’t believe him for a second)

Was seen in the convenience store asking for spare cash, but didn’t take anything

Was also seen in the laundromat and around the motel

Given all this information, I had a pretty clear idea of what happened. But it still wasn’t completely conclusive. Not until I fully immersed myself and started doing what I did best.

“Alright, thanks Ben.” Hank said, turning around to look at the street.

Ben turned in the same direction as I eyed him. “We’ve got officers sweeping the neighbourhood, in case anyone saw anything.”

Hank nodded. “Okay. Well, let me know if they turn anything up.”

Ben looked over across Hank. “What are you gonna do with that?”

I followed his gaze and found Connor idling by away from us. He was sort of just standing there in the rain looking at nothing. It made me sort of chuckle a bit, seeing him just kind of there. “I’ve no idea.” Hank said.

I scoffed. “Why not use him?” I suggested as I started making my way towards the android. “Or, better yet,” I turned around to face Hank with a smug grin, “wait until I do my thing. I wanna see the look on his face.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I doubt you’ll be able to show him up, but I’d love to see you try.” He agreed. “It’ll at least be interesting whether or not you do.”

“And isn’t that the best kind of rivalry?” I said somewhat jokingly. As fun as it would be to be able to rival a prototype detective android, I did actually want to work with him. I just couldn’t help the smug bastard in me that wanted to impress him.

I approached Connor, noticing him staring off, his LED spinning a pensive yellow. “So, robo-cop.” I started off. “What’cha gettin?”

“It took the first bus that came along,” he started, turning towards me, “and stayed at the end of the line. Its decision wasn’t planned, it was driven by fear.”

I pulled out my notepad and I took note of that. I felt Hank approach behind me, scoffing. “Androids don’t feel fear.” He contested.

“Deviants do.” Connor corrected. “They get overwhelmed by their emotions and make irrational decisions.”

“I wouldn’t call it irrational.” I chimed in. “They may be rash and impulsive, but they’re not irrational. They’re not mindless. They’re still driven by rational thought processes unless under specific circumstances of extreme and persistent abuse of various sorts.” Hank raised a skeptical eyebrow at me. “It’s reasonable to assume. Besides, on the way here, I pulled out my phone and did a search on the AX400 and found an interview with its owner, Todd Williams, on channel 16 news. He claimed that the android attacked him unprovoked, but immediately he struck me as not being truthful. First, I find it extremely hard to believe that it attacked him ‘for no reason.’ No one just does shit like that for no reason, so he’s hiding something. He also didn’t mention anything about having a daughter.”

Hank shrugged. “So?”

“The AX400 model is designed to be a caretaker of the home.” I continued on. “Take care of chores around the house, take care of cleaning, preparing dinner, all of that. That also includes child care. So, the android was already looking after a little girl when it was living with Todd in his home. The fact that he didn’t mention anything about his daughter is really setting off my alarm bells that he shouldn’t be trusted. So, if the android felt that it had to look after the young girl, that also means protecting her. And if it recognized Todd as a threat to her, it stands to reason that it broke through its programming and became deviant in order to protect the girl and save her, escaping Todd and fighting him off.”

Connor’s LED was spinning a frantic yellow. “I don’t understand.” He said, and I could recognize vocal frustration. “What makes you so sure about this conclusion? Conjecture?”

“A very strong gut instinct.” I replied. “And when it’s mattered, mine haven’t been wrong.”

“You can’t make conclusions based on a ‘gut feeling,’ detective.” Connor shook his head, his brows furrowed. “Not without enough evidence to support it.”

I scoffed at him. “You think that humans are less advanced than machines like you just because we call processes and programs things like ‘feelings’ and ‘instincts?’” I challenged him. “The human brain is like a computer, constantly taking in, recalling, collecting, and retaining information. Hell, instincts are just your brain recalling similar scenarios and examples and patterns from several different situations in only a fraction of a second. So when someone has ‘a bad feeling’ about someone, it’s not just an irrational feeling. It’s their brain analyzing a bunch of different patterns they’ve seen or experienced and telling that person that ‘this person fits this pattern, do not trust them.’

“And that’s the feeling I get about Todd.” I let out a sigh. “Because he’s not the first ‘Todd’ I’ve had to meet, unfortunately. And people like him aren’t particularly original. And humans are very good at detecting when something is wrong with something or someone. And as much as I wish more cops were more unbiased and logical like you are, I’m gonna go with Occam’s Razor on this one.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Hank shut it down. He knew I had a tendency to ramble on, and tended to stop me before I got too carried away. On the one hand, I really didn’t like being interrupted like that, especially because I knew I was going to forget that tangent later. But on the other, it was nice having someone who could keep you on-track. “That still doesn’t tell us where it went.”

“It didn’t have a plan. And it had nowhere to go.” Connor said, his LED returning to a calm blue. “Maybe it didn’t go far.”

“Maybe.” Hank agreed.

“Well, you said that it got off at a bus stop at the end of the line.” I reminded Connor. “Which one would that be?”

He pointed at it, across the street. “That one over there.”

I nodded and closed my notebook. “Then that’s where we start.” I began making my way over, Hank and Connor following closely.

As I approached the bus stop across the street, I sat down and let out a long sigh. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on either side of my face. On each hand, my index and middle fingers were situated on my forehead just above my eyebrows while the other two were folded, and my thumbs were pressing into my cheeks. I was taking a few deep breaths, trying to clear my mind and get into the right frame.

“What is she doing, Lieutenant?” I heard Connor whisper.

“You don’t have to whisper, I’m right here.” I said, not with hostility. “And I’m just getting into the zone.”

Connor paused for a moment. “To do what?” I could practically see his LED flickering yellow in my mind as I pictured him.

“You’ll understand in a moment.” I assured him. Hank and Connor were both silent as I found my centre. And after a few moments, I got up from my seat, clasped my hands behind my back and opened my eyes. “Alright, I’m a deviant android who has just escaped the home of an unstable and dangerous man who has proven himself to be a serious threat to his daughter, the child whom I was tasked to look after and whose safety is now my top priority.” I said, all the information we’ve gathered clear and at the forefront of my consciousness. “We’ve reached the end of the line, and now we have nowhere to go. It’s late, it’s raining, and - Connor, what was the temperature last night?”

“2° Celsius.” He responded immediately.

I turned to him. “You used Celsius instead of Farenheit, I’m surprised.”

“You’ve lived on the Canadian west coast for most of your life.” Connor said bluntly. “I figured you’d prefer it that way.”

“Well, you figured correctly.” I agreed. “Imperial is stupid and dumb and makes no sense. Imperial is for losers.”

“Hey!” Hank protested. I raised my eyebrow quizzically at him. He then shuffled in place before he shrugged. “Whatever.”

Getting back into my mindspace, I took another breath. “Anyways, it’s late, it’s cold, and it’s raining. I have a child with me who is very susceptible to the elements, and traveling any further from this street would be unwise, so my priority is find a place to spend the night that’s warm, sheltered, safe, and/or comfortable. So, I take the little girl’s hand and I start walking, walking, walking, walking,” I repeated going down the street and looking around, “walking, and walking until I see a motel across the street. A motel would be ideal for the girl. It’s comfortable, safe, warm, and dry, and sheltered. However, it is not discreet and we could potentially be discovered or turned in by the staff. I start crossing the street so I can get a closer look and I can evaluate my options. And as I get closer, I also notice the convenience store further ahead, so potentially I could get money or supplies since given the panic and desperation a few hours ago, it can be reasonably assumed we left with nothing but the clothes on our backs.

“And as I approach the motel, I see that you need $40 up-front and that androids weren’t allowed in. Seeing as I have no money and I can be very easily identified as an android because,” I then turned to Connor who was following close behind me, “correct me if I’m wrong, but all working androids are required to wear something similar to what you’re wearing to be easily recognizable, correct?”

“Correct.” He said with a nod. “It’s in accordance with the American Androids Act of 2029 that all androids must be clearly identified and distinguishable from humans.”

I got back on track. “Right, troubling implications of that aside, I would need money and a change of clothes, both things I do not have. So, I disregard the motel for now and go into the convenience store. Now, we know for a fact that the android did not take anything from the store, and I do not think that there is another realistically feasible way to scrounge up $40 for a room, so I think it’s safe to say that we can eliminate the motel from our potential hiding places.”

“What about the laundromat?” Hank asked. Connor was uncharacteristically quiet. “It may not have taken money, but it could’ve stolen some clothes.”

“In terms of whether or not we stayed in the motel, that doesn’t matter if we don’t have the money for a room.” I pointed out. “Stealing clothes could both be to disguise the android and keep the little girl warm and dry. Stealing money would only help with getting a motel room. So while the laundromat is a considering factor, it is not a determining factor. So, because we know that it did not steal from the convenience store, we can rule out the motel.”

Hank nodded. “Makes sense.” He agreed. “So what does that leave us with, then?”

“Working on that.” I assured him. I took another deep breath and resumed my role. “Okay, so motel is off the table. So, what other options do I potentially have? So, I cross the street again. And I’m walking, and walking, and walking, and walking, and I see a parking lot!” I pointed at the sign that said “parking.” I continued. “So, I go to check it out.”

I made my way towards it and peaked in. There was a car inside, but it looked abandoned. I opened the gate and stepped inside, getting a better look at the place. My gaze was fixed on the car. “I notice that the car is abandoned. It would safe, more comfortable than would honestly be expected, but not ideal, warm, and sheltered. But, it’s kind of open and exposed.” I glanced behind me at the gaps in the tarps surrounding the chain link fencing. “And the car has not been touched. Nothing. If they were here, they didn’t stay. So, what’s the next option?”

I turned around and saw the towering abandoned structure just on the other side of the inner fence. “A creepy, decrepit, abandoned house to squat in. Definitely not ideal. It’s sheltered, and it’s definitely hidden. Nobody would look for us in there. But I’m not sure if it would be safe or warm or comfortable. But, seeing as they didn’t stay in the motel and they clearly left the car undisturbed, looks like by process of elimination, we’re left with,” I groaned in defeated disappointment. “The creepy, decrepit, abandoned house. Great, one of every woman’s worst fucking nightmares.”

Hank nodded, standing beside me. “Well, that all makes sense to me.”

“There’s blue blood on the fence. Another android was definitely here.” I snapped my head in his direction. “That was incredible!” Connor exclaimed, to my complete surprise. Damn, that’s some high praise! But he then did something that was unexpected, but honestly, it was fucking adorable. He pretended to straighten his tie and cleared his throat as if he were embarrassed. And if I didn’t know him any better, I’d say he was. “Very impressive, Rachel.”

I smiled wide and beaming, soaking up the android’s praise. “Why thank you, Connor. That is quite the compliment, coming from you.”

“Your mental process as you were analyzing the different outcomes and evidence and possibilities piecing together the previous night,” he went on. “It seems to be a lot like reconstruction.”

I tilted my head at him, intrigued. “Reconstruction?” I echoed.

He nodded. “It’s one of my programs. By analyzing evidence and samples and compiling them, I’m able to create a theoretical reconstruction of the scenario that I can play back that can show more literally to me what took place.”

“Oh!” I said, taking in his explanation. “Interesting!”

“I am curious, though.” He interjected. “Why did you say all of your thoughts out loud like that? Is it necessary?”

“Well, it’d be pretty weird if I just walked off without saying anything, now wouldn’t it?” I said with a scoff. “But it also helps me remain focused and on-track. See, in my head, I’m holding so many ideas, clusters, thoughts, and pieces all at once. So, depending on the circumstances and the subject, information and details tend to get lost very easily. Saying it all out loud means I have to think about and focus on what I’m saying, which helps it stick. It keeps me in a rhythm and when I say my thoughts out loud, it helps me not only process it, but retain it. Because otherwise, I can potentially forget important details as soon as I turn around, as I know I often tend to do.”

Connor nodded, seeming to understand. “Ah, I see.”

“If you two are done sucking each other off, we have a deviant to find and a case to solve.” Hank interrupted.

I groaned at him. “Did you have to phrase it like that?” I asked.

“If it means you’ll stop talking, yeah.” Hank responded.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, point taken.” I conceded. “Let’s go into the creepy home that definitely won’t house my impending doom.”

Connor approached the fencing and looked up at the house. “Anybody home?” He called. He got no response, so he quickly knelt down and crawled through the fencing on the bottom, which I realized had been cut with fence cutters.

I grimaced up at the house. “Why did it have to be a creepy house straight out of a horror movie?” I complained.

Hank scoffed at me. “Well, if you don’t like it, you can just stay out here and I’ll go in after him.”

I did not like that idea. “Oh, Hell no! That’s worse!” I refused. “How about you stay here and I go in with Connor?”

I didn’t even wait for an answer from Hank before I crawled through the fencing on the bottom. “Well, that was easy.”

I glared at him from behind me. “Oh, shut up, Hank.”

“Yeah, speak for yourself.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Now hurry up, he’s already way ahead of you.”

Taking up a brisk pace, I quickly caught up with Connor, who quickly regarded me with confusion. “This could be dangerous.” He said. “You should’ve stayed behind with Lieutenant Anderson.”

I looked up into his eyes. “I didn’t like the idea of you going in alone, and I also didn’t like the idea of being by myself.” I answered. “At least this way, we can watch each other’s backs.”

Connor nodded, seeming to accept my justification. Dutifully, I followed in behind him, acutely aware of the gun in my holster. He seemed to be rounding the perimeter of the house before he found boards he could peek through. I sneakily peeked in from the corner and found what looked like a person just standing in the middle of the room. I didn’t get a good enough look at them, but I felt my gut tighten and my jaw clench. Connor, however, remained calm as usual, and walked on ahead whilst I followed him. Across from the boards was a green door with a silver knob. I saw that it had a little paw print on it, and I thought it was cute. This must’ve been a pretty nice place before it fell in shambles. I thought, briefly.

Connor wrapped his hand around the knob and twisted it, and the door gave way without much resistance. Connor and I stepped through and the green door closed behind us under its own weight.

When I saw him in the middle of the room, I felt my heart stop and my blood turn to ice. “Oh my God...” I whispered. He was unmistakably an android, but the left side of his face had been torn and his hands were weathered and he looked as though he was wearing only what he could manage to scrounge out of the garbage. Upon seeing his face, I instinctively grabbed my left arm. He was twitching uncontrollably, out of fear, no doubt. It took all of my will to keep my eyes from watering at the horrid sight.

Connor approached the disfigured android slowly. In a quiet voice, Connor began speaking to him. “Don’t be afraid.” He reassured the android, as he began making his way around the room, inspecting it. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the android, and I was quickly failing to keep my tears from welling. “What happened to you?” I asked in a hushed whisper. “Who did this to you?”

The android looked up at me and locked eyes with me, and I noticed that the eye on his left where his wounds were was damaged and had gone dark blue. “Humans.” He responded quickly. “Humans...” He answered. “Humans hurt Ralph...humans did this to Ralph.”

I felt my heart break into a million pieces and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. “I’m so sorry.” I said, quickly wiping away the tears from my eyes and taking a moist breath in through my nose as I tried to recompose myself.

Connor took notice of me as he continued to search, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I’m looking for an AX400. Have you seen it?” He asked.

“Ralph’s seen nobody...” The android replied hastily.

Connor continued analyzing various details of the room. “Are there any other androids here?” He asked.

“Other androids?” Ralph asked, looking up at Connor before looking back down at the ground. “No...Ralph is alone...”

Anytime he spoke, I just felt my heart break even more. I looked away and started to walk towards the stairs. “There’s blue blood on the fence.” Connor pointed out. “I know another android was here.”

“Ralph scratched himself coming through...” He answered immediately. “That’s Ralph’s blood...”

But as I approached the stairs, I noticed an odd, but unmistakable smell. Another aspect of my atypicalities was that aside from my eyesight, my senses were particularly sensitive. Although, I also had auditory processing issues and was hard of hearing, so my hearing was not always reliable.

But one of those senses was my sense of smell. I could pick up smells very easily and a lot quicker than other people could. Particular smells also tended to trigger sensory overload or just generally set me off. It’s one of the reasons I can’t fucking stand chewing gum in any capacity.

But this was a smell I’d experienced enough times to know it when I smelled it. And it was not pleasant. It was the smell of a human cadaver. At least a week old, it had to be. But from what I could tell, it was not on this floor with us. It smelled like it was coming from up the stairs

Connor noticed my attention on the stairs and walked towards me. My eyes kept going to Ralph and the scars on his face, and I could hardly find it in myself to blame him. After what he’d been through, what reason did he have to not lash out out of fear? What reason did he have not to think that any human would just hurt him more? Humans probably would hurt him again or did. And as much as I was not comfortable with the fact that Ralph was probably a murderer, I didn’t want him destroyed. I wanted him helped, and I wanted him not to have suffered through what he had suffered to make him this way. He didn’t deserve this. I thought, with a fury flowing through my veins. None of them do.

As Connor was slowly going up the stairs, I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. When my eyes found it, I realized what was happening. Below the stairs was the barest movement of a crouching shape. The AX400 and the girl were hiding down there below the stairs. And Ralph was protecting them.

“Is anyone upstairs?” Connor asked, already up half the flight and peering up to the second floor.

“No.” Ralph replied. “Nobody.”

Connor looked over at Ralph, his gaze lingering for a moment on the disfigured android. But then his gaze locked onto me. I knew he was no fool. He knew I noticed something was amiss and he took that as his cue to investigate. Either the smell wasn’t strong enough for Connor to notice, or he just couldn’t smell at all. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if androids could smell.

I had a choice to make. If I gave Connor the idea that there was something up there to investigate, he would arrest Ralph and have him destroyed. Which, perhaps he did deserve. But I didn’t feel like it was my right to decide his fate. Not when we had something else more important to deal with at the moment.

Deciding to keep Ralph’s secret, I shook my head at Connor, telling him that there was nothing upstairs.

Connor’s yellow LED spun back to blue as he quickly made his way back onto the ground floor.

The android detective was making his way to check where I saw the fugitives hiding. I felt my heart start beating faster, until I heard Hank’s voice from behind us. “Connor, Rachel, what the hell are you doin’ in there?!”

“Coming, Lieutenant!” Connor called, kneeling down.

As soon as he did, Ralph wrapped his arms around Connor faster than I could react and I pulled my gun on him. “RUN! QUICK! KARA!” Ralph was yanking Connor backwards, and I quickly realized he wasn’t trying to hurt him.

He was allowing the others space to get away. From under the stairs, two people burst out and bolted around through the door on the left of the room, and Hank quickly came in the way we did as Ralph threw Connor onto the ground weakly.

The moment Hank entered the room, I saw my chance and took it, giving chase after them. From behind me, I heard Connor shouting. “It’s here! Call it in!”

I didn’t slow down for a moment as I was laser focused on catching up to Kara and the girl before Connor got to them. I didn’t want them dead, but I’d rather be the first to reach them than anyone else.

I rushed past an officer in pursuit, the pair still in my sights. It didn’t take much to keep pace with them. They were within arm’s length, but I obviously wasn’t going to just grab them. “Wait!” I cried.

But they didn’t stop. They kept running. I couldn’t blame them. When I almost had them in my reach, they quickly turned a sharp corner into an alley. When they reached a fence blocking their path, I pulled my gun on them. “Freeze! Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” A complete fucking lie, but I couldn’t let them leave.

They both turned around slowly, their hands in the air. As I approached them, stepping closer, I took notice of what the android looked like. Her hair was short and blonde. It looked as though it had just been cut. But most remarkably, I noticed her LED.

Or lack thereof. She didn’t have one. Which means she must have removed it. And without it, along with her human clothes, she looked nearly indistinguishable from a human.

The android known as Kara began to speak directly to me. “You care about androids, I know you do! I saw it! When you looked at Ralph! When you talked to him!” She pleaded. “We can’t stay here, you have to let us go!”

I wanted to. So badly, I wanted to let them be free and run away. But...I had to know the truth. “What happened between you and Todd?” I asked her. “Why did you run away?”

“He was going to hurt Alice!” Kara answered without any hesitation. So, Alice is her name. “She was in danger. I couldn’t let him hurt her. I had no choice! I had to protect her!”

As if being pulled down by a weight, my arms began lowering. “I knew it.” I said, more to myself than them, but they heard it anyways. “I was right.”

But a familiar voice quickly divided my attention. “Don’t shoot, Rachel!” Connor’s voice echoed from behind me. “We need it alive!”

Taking this opportunity, I mouthed one thing to them. Run! I then turned to Connor and glared at him. “Oh, wow! Thank you Captain Obvious!” I started, chewing him out. “It’s not like anyone in their right mind could tell that the android who’s responsible for the life of a young child needed to be kept alive!”

“They’re getting away!” Connor cried as he rushed past me.

Looking back to the fence, I felt relief that they were already pretty much over the fence and out of our reach. I quickly put the gun back into my holster and rushed to join Connor at the fence.

Kara locked eyes with Connor and then myself before she and Alice slid down the muddy slope. But then I looked ahead of them and I realized what they were facing.

The highway. They were going to cross the highway.

Immediately, I felt the worst kind of lightning pierce my veins. My heart was pounding out of my chest and I felt like I was choking on air itself. Feelings of helplessness, pressure on my chest and head, and sensations like shards in my skin began overwhelming my senses.

But there was only one thing going through my mind.

I couldn’t let them cross.

I grabbed the fence and started to climb up it, but I suddenly felt hands clutching onto my wrist and pulling me back down. “What are you doing?” Connor asked.

“They’re not gonna make it across the highway!” I cried, trying to scramble up the fence, but Connor kept holding me and then pulling me down with impossible strength. “If I don’t save them, they won’t make it! I can’t let them die out there!”

“If you go after them, there’s almost no chance of you succeeding!” Connor said, holding me down. “If you die on that road, there’s no coming back for you! Don’t you understand, Rachel?!”

“I don’t care!” I practically screamed, trying to fight my way out of his grip, feeling my breath grow rapid and frantic. “I can’t let them die out there! I can’t let them die!”

“I can’t let you take that risk!” Connor insisted, grabbing my face and forcing me to stare at him. “If you die, you don’t get a second chance. Do you hear me?”

“Don’t you dare, Rachel!” Hank’s husky voice called from behind us. He sauntered up and leaned against the fence, catching his breath. “Oh, fuck...that’s insane.”

He let go of me, and I couldn’t control the streams of tears that poured down my face as my limbs began to tremble violently. I hated that he was right, but every fibre of my body was screaming at me to stop them before it was too late. The sounds of the cars were practically deafening even though they were so far away, and the sounds of sirens only made it worse.

Suddenly, I felt Connor shift, and looked over to see Hank yanking him down. “Hey! Where you goin’?”

“I can’t let them get away!” Connor retorted.

I stared at Connor straight in the face. “Don’t you fucking dare!” I practically screamed at him.

“They won’t.” Hank said. “They’ll never make it to the other side.”

“I can’t take that chance!” This time, both Hank and I had to pull Connor down to stop him from jumping the fence.

“Hey, you will get yourself killed!” Hank shouted at him. “Do NOT go after ‘em, Connor. That’s an order!”

But Connor didn’t listen, and I felt my heart constrict so tightly I could hear my rapid heartbeat in my ears and pounding in my head. “CONNOR! God damn it!” Hank growled as Connor slipped out of our grasps and jumped the fence.

As I watched Connor slide down the slope, I lost all control. “IF YOU DIE OUT THERE, I SWEAR I WILL DRAG YOUR ASS BACK HERE AND KILL YOU AGAIN MYSELF, GOD DAMN IT!” I screeched at full volume.

But as soon as I did that, I collapsed against the fence, and as I saw Kara and Alice desperately dodge the oncoming vehicles, I completely shut down.

Images of being trapped in a flipped car at night began racing through my head. I couldn’t bear to watch anymore. I slumped against the fence, my back to the highway, and I started rocking back and forth involuntarily mumbling incomprehensibly as horrible bloody memories began to thump and pound and bang on my brain and every nerve and vein in my body felt like it was doing to burst. Numbness in my left arm. Shards of glass embedded in my skin everywhere. Horrible pain in my whole body. The feeling of the rough pavement as I managed to crawl out of the flipped vehicle. The sounds of sirens and the flashing of red and blue emergency lights. A slumped figure against the pavement as I tried desperately to reach out and call for them.

Only to reach them, hold them, and watch my whole life slip from my fingers, my heart and soul dying with the light in their eyes as I clutched onto them, screaming and desperately willing them to come back to me. For all of this to be a horrible nightmare. That I would wake up in a second and I could confide in the love of my life about what I dreamed about that night in their arms as we slept.

Only to be pulled away and be forced under as I watched everything fall apart around me.

“Rachel!” I heard a voice breaking through my visions. “Rachel, it’s okay! I’m right here, just breathe!” I recognized that it was Hank’s voice, and I felt him clutching at my arms. I snapped my eyes open as the horrible echoes of my visions swirled in my tired and wounded head. “Breathe, kiddo. It’s okay. They made it. You don’t have to worry about them.”

They did? I thought. So it was all a bad dream? But then I realized what Hank meant, and I was quickly dragged back to reality. Oh. Right. Kara, Alice, and Connor.

Forcing myself to breathe deeply, the sounds and visions started to dull. “That’s it, kiddo. That’s it. Just breathe.” Hank said softly, gently holding onto me and kneeling in front of me. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be alright. Just look at me, listen to me, and just breathe.”

I did as he asked, and I started to remember my surroundings and why I was here. The case. This morning. The street. The house. The chase. As I kept breathing, my muscles began to relax, and I realized that I was clutching my left arm really tightly, and let go, putting both my hands on the ground on either side of me. My heart was still racing and my eyes felt sore, but I was beginning to come back from that horrible low place. I swallowed and I knew my voice had become hoarse. “There you go, kiddo.” Hank said, gently shaking me. I gently grabbed his arms with my hands and looked him in the eyes. “It’s okay, everything’s fine. Connor’s coming back right now. No one died. Everyone made it.”

Connor. His name repeated in my head. That’s right. Connor. My brows furrowed in complete anger. That fucking asshole!

“Looks like you’ve caught your breath, now.” Hank said, reassuring me. “Can you stand up?”

Letting out a long sigh, I nodded. “Yeah...I think so.” I croaked.

Without waiting, Hank hooked an arm around my back under my arms and started helping me to my feet. As soon as I was standing, he pulled me aside so I was leaning against the corner between the alley wall and the fence. I clutched my chest, taking in several deep breaths. My heartbeat had slowed, but it was still beating so fast.

As soon as Connor climbed back over the fence, my attention was completely focused on him. Unbridled rage began to boil in my veins as I glared at this selfish plastic moron. “You!” I snarled, lacing my broken voice with as much venom as I could bring myself to inject. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU COULD HAVE DIED OUT THERE!”

Connor looked taken aback for a brief moment, but for the most part, his face was relatively reserved. “I couldn’t let them -”

“Quiet!” I shouted, shoving him harshly. “Watching ONE person die in a road accident was one too many! I don’t want you adding to that list just because you wanna recklessly and selfishly risk your own life without any regard for anyone else!”

“If I get destroyed, my memory will simply be transferred to the next-”

“I DON’T CARE!” I shouted at him. Everything went quiet as I stared at him. But I felt so tired, and exhausted, and broken that I couldn’t keep up the tough love act for long and broke into quiet sobs.

Hank gently grabbed my shoulders, angling me away from Connor. Nothing was said for a long long moment. If not for what just preceded this, I would’ve considered this a moment of respite.

“I’m sorry.” Connor said, softly and meekly.

Taking a few breaths between my weak and stifled sobs, I turned to face him, but did not walk towards him. “The important thing...is that no one died today...that everyone made it.” I managed to get out between breaths and sobs.

Hank started gently walking me out of the alley. “Let’s just head back to the car.” He suggested. “We did what we could. There’s nothing more for us to do, here.”

I nodded, leaning on Hank, occasionally stealing a glance back at Connor. Even after yelling at him, I couldn’t help but feel a sharp stab of guilt when he looked at me like that. Like a wounded puppy.

We eventually made our way to the car, and I was able to walk without Hank supporting me. “You wanna sit in the front this time, Rachel?” He asked me.

I looked at him and gave him a weak smile, but it was as much of one as I could muster. “That would be nice.” I answered quietly.

“Yeah, just go on in and have a seat. I’ll just let Ben know what happened.” Hank assured me, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He walked off to find his colleague, and Connor came up behind me. He didn’t really say anything, and we just sort of looked at each other for a long moment before I opened the door and sat in the passenger’s seat.

As soon as I closed the door, I let out a long sigh and wiped my eyes. I leaned back into my chair and felt my eyes well up again. I wasn’t going to fall apart again, but I clearly wasn’t done feeling all the horrible things. “Fuck...” I breathed as I slumped into my chair.

I felt Connor lean forward and I knew he was going to try to talk to me. Despite my outburst earlier, I didn’t hate him. Hell, I chewed him out because I was so scared I was going to watch him die because of his own stupid reckless bullshit. But...I definitely did not have the energy or patience to talk to him right now. “I’m sorry.” He said, and I hated the twinge I felt because he sounded so sincere. “I should’ve considered how you and Hank would feel if -”

I couldn’t do it. “Connor, I don’t wanna talk right now!” I cut him off. He snapped his mouth shut and gave me that injured puppy dog look again. I let out another sigh as I sunk further and further into my seat. “Just...please. Not right now. Maybe later, but...just let me wind down, please.” I begged him.

I couldn’t even look at him in the rear view window. I couldn’t bear to see his dark eyes boring into my soul. He was quiet for a good while until he spoke up. “Alright.” He agreed. “I’m sorry.”

I closed my eyes and let out another breath through my nose. As soon as I heard the driver’s side door open, I knew Hank was back. “Sorry it took so long.” He apologized. I quickly fastened my seatbelt as he started the car. “You can put on whatever tunes you want and just relax the whole way back, okay?”

I looked weakly up at Hank. “Thank you.” Was all I could muster. I pulled out my phone and connected it to his radio, scrolling through my playlists. I thought of playing an album full of easy-listening piano songs, but I decided that would be too quiet and sombre for a fifteen minute car ride. So instead, I scrolled to my usual ‘happy music’ that I played when I needed a good auditory pick-me-up. I put on an old Owl City album and let it play. As Hank started the car, it began driving, and very quickly, I managed to drift off to sleep, hoping to get at least some rest before the day was over.

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ecto-american · 5 years

Text

Worldbuilding

DannyMay 2019 themed story, I’m not late I’m just going my own pace pls be nice to me

Day 8: Worldbuilding (shh it's close enough)

Maddie knew that she was lying. It was really weird. Jazz wasn't much of a liar. She rarely did anything that would warrant needing to lie, so knowing that Jazz was lying to her...it made her uneasy.

She glanced in the review mirror at Phantom and Jazz as she drove. Phantom was laying in the backseat, head propped up on a pillow that rested in Jazz's lap. Jazz had brought the whiteboard along, having let it rest on the floorboards along with the markers. She was speaking softly to Phantom some nice, comforting words, words that Maddie was sure Phantom would never be able to remember. He had instantly dozed off upon being given more pain reliever. Jack ended up carrying him to the RV.

Jack didn't speak much, aside from a brief phone calls he had made. In a final ditch effort to see where Danny was, he had called Valerie's dad. Maddie knew that he and Valerie had broken up a while ago, but from how her son spoke, they still seemed to be friendly and on good terms with each other. Once more, it was reported that nobody had seen Danny. It caused Maddie some stress, especially given the reactions of the duo in the back.

Jazz had frozen up anxiously. Even Phantom, having briefly woken up upon hearing Jack's loud voice, had stiffened. They were hiding something. Maddie just knew that they both had knowledge of where Danny was. But why were they hiding it? Danny was a good kid. She doubted he'd have gotten into something like drugs. Maybe a secret girlfriend? But Jazz would spill the beans if that was the case, to prevent all the worrying.

The other was another call to the hospital, stating that they were nearly there. From what Jack had described, they were understandably skeptical of the situation. Ghost hunters, asking human doctors to help them heal a ghost? It sounded insane. But for some reason, Phantom was incredibly popular in town. It wasn't just the local youth that looked up to him. Adults, her own peers, were looking at this kid as a hero.

She pulled into the hospital parking lot, and as promised, there was somebody waiting outside for them. A skeptical looking pair of nurses looked surprised upon Maddie pulling up. Jack rolled down the window.

"Hey, we had called ahead?" Jack half-asked aloud, almost hesitant.

"Oh, yeah," the first nurse nodded. "May I see?"

Maddie put the RV in park, and she and Jack both exited. Jazz opened the door for them. By now, Jazz had helped Phantom sit up properly into the seat. One of the nurses stepped up to properly see inside, holding onto a door handle. Maddie could see the heartbreak on the nurse's face. She used her free hand to lightly touch Phantom's swollen face, trying to get a feel for the injury as Phantom let out a small whimper.

"How's it look?" her coworker asked. A glance and a mouthing of the words "really bad" was all it took for the other to nod. "I'll go get a stretcher."

Why they didn't already have one ready, Maddie wasn't sure. It almost irritated her, but she decided to not let that get to her. It only took a few moments for the other nurse to return, along with another staff member. Carefully, they began to help Phantom out of the RV and onto the stretcher.

"Will you be staying?" one had turned to ask the Fentons.

"I wanna stay!" Jazz blurted out. Maddie stared at her daughter. Jazz had gotten the whiteboard out, clutching it tightly to her chest with a fist full of markers. In return, Jazz had shot Maddie a pitiful look. "Please, Mom?"

"Honey, your dad's going to be taking you back for the college tour," Maddie reminded her. Jazz's lip quivered. "And I need to get home to make sure Danny gets to bed at a reasonable hour.

"We can't just leave him here all alone," Jazz lightly argued. "I'll just skip the college tour."

Skip the college tour?

Who on Earth was this girl, and what did she do with Jasmine Fenton?

"Jazz, you've been waiting a long time for this tour," Maddie scolded. "You're not going to skip it." Jack lightly nudged his wife.

"Mads, she's kinda right," he whispered. "Phantom's a ghost. They may not be able to treat him correctly. And this would be a great chance to study his ecto-biology and get some tests."

Maddie thought for a moment, studying Phantom as he was settled in on the stretcher. A nurse was talking to him in a very motherly tone about how they were going to take good care of him. Phantom barely seemed to notice, staring off into seemingly nothing.

"I'll stay," Maddie finally decided with a light sigh. Jack grinned.

"Jazz and I will swing by the house, and we'll bring you the other car and some stuff to take samples and what-not," Jack offered. Maddie seemed to brighten at the idea of finally getting a solid ectoplasm sample from Phantom, one that wasn't contaminated by being on the ground or splattered against a wall, and all the ecto-biological information they could collect.

"Can you pack me my kindle, and the charger and one for my phone?" Maddie requested. "I feel like I'll be here a while."

"You got it, babe," Jack replied. Maddie glanced at Jazz. She had no clue how her daughter really was feeling at this point. Her face had turned blank of emotion, a bit pale.

"We'll be back, then," Jazz said slowly. She offered the board and markers to Maddie, and she accepted them.

"I'll see you in a bit, sweetie," Maddie told her, leaning down to peck her forehead lovingly. Jazz smiled weakly at her, and she gave Jack a quick peck as well.

"So you're staying?" a nurse questioned. Maddie nodded. "Well come on, let's see what we can do."

Maddie gave a brief wave to her family as they loaded back up in the RV. She glanced at the staff as they were assuring Phantom was comfortable on the stretcher.

"Sorry hon, we're just going to put this over you to avoid any drama wheeling you back," the other nurse apologized. Phantom gave a half nod and wheeze. She pulled a white sheet over his form before they began to wheel him inside, the ghost hunter following shortly after.

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Maddie sat with the whiteboard in Phantom's private room. Thankfully, nobody outside of hospital staff had noticed him being wheeled in, nor did people seem to give much thought as to why Maddie herself was there. After some debate and confused questions on how they'd even proceed, Maddie and the nurses had decided that the only thing keeping Phantom in bed would be an IV drip of pain medication that was slowly relieving his pain. The ghost had been changed out of her son's shirt and what was left of his jumpsuit into a hospital gown.

She had begun to take notes on everything she was learning so far on her phone. Phantom could drink water, even specifically asking for it. Whether or not it was a need or just a thing he could do, he still could drink it. He appears to feel pain. He has bones, teeth. Human medicines work on him to a certain extent it seemed. But how? Lightly tapping her foot, she sighed. Phantom was such an eternal mystery.

A soft knock at the door caught her attention, and it startled Phantom awake. The door opened, and a short brunette doctor entered, giving a warm smile.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Carrington, I'll be taking care of you today," she introduced herself. She reached out to shake Maddie's hand, before going over to do the same with Phantom. Phantom was staring at her curiously as he accepted her hand.

"I'm Maddie Fenton, I'm one half of the Fentons ghost research and hunting team," Maddie replied. Dr. Carrington nodded knowingly, despite still looking a bit puzzled. Maddie knew why. A ghost hunter. Helping a ghost. It wasn't your everyday sight.

"So, the problem seems kind of obvious to me. Your jaw hurts pretty bad, huh?" Dr. Carrington sounded very sympathetic. Phantom gave a half-nod. "Don't worry, dear, we'll see what we can do about it. But firstly, we're going to try and get some basic information about you, okay?"

Phantom nodded.

"He hasn't really been able to talk, so we've been using this," Maddie said, and she held up the board.

"That's perfectly fine," Dr. Carrington replied, and she began to flip through her clipboard. "Can you give him the board, and we can get started?"

Maddie nodded, and she shifted to hand Phantom the board and a marker. Phantom accepted both of them. He uncapped the marker and testingly scribbled on the board. Maddie hummed curiously.

"He's a lot more alert now," she noted to the doctor. Dr. Carrington glanced at Phantom in between her writing on the paper.

"How was he before?" she asked.

"Very...unresponsive," Maddie explained. "Could barely focus, unable to write much on the board before. Jazz, my daughter, could only really get information out of him by writing stuff on the board and having him pick, like gesturing to yes or no." Dr. Carrington made an impressed noise.

"Very smart of her," she commented, and she jotted that down. "It was likely a symptom of being in shock and in pain, but now he's likely more stable due to consistent medication and just simply time giving him a chance to recover. So, Danny, right?" It was weird to hear Phantom being called Danny. It...felt almost chilling to remember that Phantom shared a name with her son.

Phantom nodded.

"Alright, Danny, so can you tell me a little bit about you? Date of birth, where you were born, any allergies, any pre-existing medical conditions?" Dr. Carrington asked.

Phantom began to scribble on the board. Maddie watched him closely as Phantom was able to steadily hold the marker and write. Dr. Carrington waited patiently before he finally turned the board to her. She silently read it to herself.

"My goodness, you've been through a lot," she said almost in awe.

"May I see?" Maddie questioned. Phantom stared at her, wide eyed. Dr. Carrington lightly ruffled his hair.

"You don't have to show," she assured him. "It can be doctor-patient confidentiality."

Maddie frowned. She was doing all this to help this town's menace, and she wasn't going to get any access to this information? It was absolutely insulting. Dr. Carrington began to focus on writing down what Phantom had written on the board while the ghost and ghost hunter locked in a staring contest.

Finally, Phantom shyly broke his gaze. He hesitantly handed Maddie the board. She accepted it, and she scanned what Phantom had written in response.

4/3, 16, born in Wisconsin, allergic to penicillin

And the worst part was the previous medical conditions. Phantom had instead made a list of previous injuries. They were very vague and to the point. Stab to chest breathing issues, broken nose breathing, crushed knee chronic pain, ecto-gun to face headaches. Near the end, it seemed as if Phantom had begun to run out of space, despite having more to say. His handwriting got smaller and smaller.

Maddie reluctantly gave Phantom the board back, and she leaned back in her chair as she watched the doctor begin to ask Phantom what had happened. She jotted down in her phone the information Phantom had provided, and it hit her. Phantom's information matched her son's exactly. Same birthday, same age, same birth state, same allergy. It sent a shiver up her spine as she stared. This...the absolute odds of this being just a coincidence were simply too outlandish.

Soon, Phantom turned the board to the doctor. She silently read it, and her face paled the further she read. Maddie was dying of curiosity. The hunter leaned forward, trying to grasp a peak. Phantom glanced at her, and he soon turned the board to her. And she felt herself grow a bit numb at the words.

Fought Skulker. Wanted my pelt. Choked me out. Woke up strapped down on table because of cutting. He hit jaw so I couldn't ghostly wail.

"How did you escape?" Maddie asked aloud. Phantom didn't look at her, or make any moves to write down how.

"So it's not just your jaw?" the doctor changed the subject. She pointed to Phantom's neck with her pen. "I could see the cut on your neck, but didn't know it was...due to that. May we see?"

Phantom nodded. Dr. Carrington helped him sit up and pull the hospital gown off his shoulders and forwards. The bandaging Jack had done earlier was done with a gentle care, and specks of green ectoplasm had begun to bleed through. The doctor picked up some medical scissors to cut away the bandaging, carefully pulling them off.

Maddie had gone hunting before. She grew up in Alabama, and she remembered her dad showing her and her sister how to skin what they hunted. The carefully made cut was a lot cleaner and less graphic than she had imagined. It wasn't the half-hazardly passionate cut that she was expecting, something that would tell her that this skinning was just a feral ghost action. It was definitely intentional. Somebody really did want to skin Phantom.

"Oh my, this is really something," Dr. Carrington murmured to herself. "But I think this should heal just fine. It looks like you got lucky on this front." She smiled warmly at him. "Just some stitches, which we'll likely do during surgery. But right now, I wanna go ahead and get some X-rays of your jaw and chest. Alright?" Phantom gave a light nod. "Excellent. The nurse will be here in a second to take you. And then we'll see what all we can do for you, alright?" She lightly patted Phantom's shoulder, and she flashed the two a smile before leaving the room.

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Two men in white suits walked up to the desk. The bald, more built one reached into his inner shirt pocket to produce a badge. The other, a fairly skinny white haired young man, fumbled and searched his pockets in a brief panic before copying his partner, also producing his badge.

"I'm Agent K, this is Agent G from the Guys in White," the first one spoke. "We're here for the arrest of a Danny Phantom. We were informed that he was admitted here as a patient about an hour ago."

The woman working behind the station looked worried, and she began to flip through some papers on her desk.

"Um, I can direct you to the doctor assigned to work his case," she said hesitantly. "Or, actually, let me page her."

"That would be very helpful, thank you," Agent K spoke.

The employee paged the doctor, and the agents waited patiently. Agent G leaned into the other agent.

"When he gets out, can I taze him?" he asked quietly. Agent K rolled his eyes.

"No," he told him sternly, keeping his voice low as to not attract unwanted attention. "Not unless he attacks you. There's civilians here, we can't afford that kind of casualty. We're to take him in as quietly and quickly as we can to avoid property damage."

Agent G said nothing, standing quietly for a moment. He rocked on his heels, fidgeting while Agent K stood nearly as still as a statue.

"...So when do I shoot the ecto-gun?"

Agent K took his sunglasses off to rub at his eyes tiredly. Rookies.

"You don't unless there's a clear and present danger," Agent K scowled. He put his sunglasses on, despite being inside. "Calm down, or I'm going to make you sit in the car."

Agent G frowned, but he didn't say anything else. He sighed boredly, checking his watch. Agent K kept his eyes locked on the doors that led further into the hospital.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Dr. Carrington came out accompanied by a woman in a nice business suit, holding a file folder full of papers. They went to the station, speaking briefly with the worker who pointed out the agents. They approached them. Agent K nudged Agent G, who stopped fidgeting and stood straight with him.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Carrington, and this is one of the lawyers who represent the hospital, Elizabeth Ohmer," she introduced herself and her companion. Ohmer nodded. "I understand that you're here for my patient?"

"Yes, we're from the Guys in White," Agent K did the talking, once again pulling out his badge. Agent G copied him. "We understand that you have a ghost named Danny Phantom in your care, and we have a warrant for him to be released into our custody immediately."

"Well, as government officials, you should know that you need to wait until the suspect has received the proper care and is discharged before you can bring them into custody," the lawyer reminded him with a frown. Agent K frowned in return.

"He's wanted for felony level offenses," Agent K informed her. "We have a right to bring him in for questioning for his criminal offenses. You are interfering with the law, and I suggest you hand over the ghost before you get arrested too."

"We've done nothing wrong," Ohmer kept a level tone and voice with them, despite giving them a certain Look. Agent K didn't flinch, though the rookie was quickly growing intimidated. "Mr. Phantom is in no condition to talk to you nor be discharged at this time. You are welcome to stay here and wait for him to recover, we have plenty of coffee and magazines that you can read while you wait. But you should know that there's absolutely no way that I'm letting this kid leave the hospital until he's had treatment and can be assured that he's on a steady recovery path. Mr. Phantom is a self-reported minor at sixteen, meaning that even if you have him wanted for felony offenses, in the state of Illinois, you still have to have a youth officer present for questioning purposes and for processing once you've charged them."

Ohmer reached into her folder file to hand Agent K a piece of paper. The agent accepted it, silently reading the contents. It was simply a packet from a legal document, highlighted in bright yellow being the parts of note. It detailed what she said. He looked up at her.

"You can't apply United States laws to a ghost," Agent K argued. Agent G remained silent. Dr. Carrington shrugged.

"Given that Mr. Phantom self-reported that he was born in Wisconsin, that makes him a minor citizen of the United States, so I think we can apply those laws to him. If you question him without a youth officer in this hospital, I can and will contact the media, state and police about how you've violated the civil rights of the town's celebrity. I don't think that you also want to risk a lawsuit from Mr. Phantom himself over it,," she replied. She pulled out another piece of paper, similar to the other. A description of the legal rights that were arguably applicable to Phantom, with more highlights. Agent K's face visibly dropped in defeat as he took it. "You're not the first government agent to walk into the hospital, and you won't be the last. Now of course, you are allowed to stick around if you really want to, but you may not talk to him at this time until both Mr. Phantom is ready to receive visitors and you have a youth officer."

Agent K narrowed his eyes, his anger hidden by his sunglasses. They came prepared for him, and this was imposing a problem. A problem on the worst kind of scale: Legal loopholes and technicalities.

"As of now, Mr. Phantom's undergoing some tests so we can figure out how best to treat him," Dr. Carrington spoke up. "He will likely not be ready or able to talk to any officers until tomorrow, the very earliest."

"What are the details of his condition?" Agent K questioned.

"All I can say at this time is that we're still assessing what the problem is," the doctor replied. "Would you like security to escort you out, or would you like to wait?"

Agent K took a deep breath and exhaled harshly in frustration. Agent G's head glanced back and forth between the hospital employees and his coworker, anxiously waiting.

"...We'll be in the waiting room," Agent K finally said. Dr. Carrington and Ohmer nodded. "We still have a warrant, and Mr. Phantom is to be released to our custody upon being discharged. And you are still to alert us if there is any security or physical threat from Phantom. He is a massive threat to Amity Park's safety, and we cannot just leave the area."

"Alright. We'll call you if either of those happen," she replied. "But be warned. You will be here a while."

Agent K didn't reply, simply giving a brief nod before turning. He lightly nudged Agent G.

"Come on, rookie," he told him, and they moved to take a seat.

They settled into seats, and the second they sat, Agent G began to fidget before leaning into Agent K.

"So what?" he asked quietly. "We taze him later?" Agent K sighed.

"No, you moron," he hissed. "I'm going to update the boss, and then we wait." Agent G looked dumbfounded.

"Just...wait?" he asked. "But I thought we'd have a cool shootout, ya know? With ecto-guns and blast shields, and then of course I save a hot nurse who's so thankful I saved her she-"

"Shut up," Agent K grumbled, pulling out his cell phone. He couldn't wait for Agent O to get back from vacation so, if nothing else, he had somebody else to help deal with yet another trigger happy rookie. "The Guys in White is mostly paperwork and waiting."

"And you're cool with that?"

"We get paid by the hour, and I've been catching up on Game of Thrones," Agent K explained, hitting his boss's contact info and slumping in his seat.

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Dr. Carrington and Maddie stood together with as they looked at the X-rays. All of this was fascinating, the knowledge that Phantom had a skeletal system, and that it was basically a human's. They were a bit silent as they studied the images before them. The door opened, but they paid no attention to it, and the surgeon came up to them. He let out a low whistle the second he saw them.

"Damn," he spoke in awe.

"Seven fractures," Dr. Carrington agreed. She held up his pen to the X-rays as she spoke. "You can see the comminuted fracture, and he's also got four other oblique fractures. Plus seven missing teeth, five more are badly damaged and tongue nearly chopped off. Kid went through hell."

"We're going to need to basically wire this kid back in one piece," the surgeon agreed. He also used his pen to point out injuries. "His left side has most of the damage, it looks like a hard impact."

"Yeah, he reported being in a fight with another ghost," Maddie spoke up.

"Mrs. Fenton, will you be joining us in surgery?" the surgeon asked. He hesitated. "Of course, we typically would never. But given the circumstances, we may need your expertise." Maddie nodded.

"Yes, I'll be happy to assist," she replied. "It'll be a good chance to really study some of Phantom's anatomy."

"You're going to have only this chance," Dr. Carrington said with a grimace. "The Guys in White have a warrant for his arrest. When he gets discharged, they'll likely be taking him in." Maddie raised an eyebrow.

"Waiting? That doesn't sound like the Guys in White," Maddie commented. The doctor smiled at her.

"Legal loopholes and technicalities mean we can keep him here until I discharge him," she replied, and she gave a sigh. "But if you can, Mrs. Fenton, can you see what you can do? To keep him from having to go to the Guys in White?"

"I don't have anything that could help," Maddie told her with a helpless shrug. "The Guys in White have jurisdiction over us."

"There must be something," the surgeon frowned. "Isn't there any kind of ghost related laws? Or something?"

"I may just need to advise him to get a lawyer," Dr. Carrington mused to herself. "But I don't know how well that'd work. The Guys in White operate in a different kind of court system I think, like the military? Does that sound about right?"

"Why are you so worried about this anyway?" Maddie questioned. "Phantom's done terrible things."

"He's sixteen, Maddie," the doctor spoke quietly. "I have a daughter his age. He's just a kid doing his best. You can look at him and just...you can just kind of tell. I've had patients come in who were people he rescued from burning buildings and car accidents. Evil ghosts don't do that. Evil beings don't do that. He's been doing a lot of good, really working to make a change. I don't want to see the Guys in White hurting him for that."

Maddie thought about her own sixteen year old. Danny. He shared so many similarities with Phantom, it was scary. And it couldn't be a coincidence. Why hadn't he called her yet? Something was very wrong.

"I'll have to see what I can come up with," Maddie sighed. "But for now, what do we need to prepare?"

Dr. Carrington nodded, and she began to speak more in depth about the possible surgery plans. Maddie watched as the two doctors debated the best course of action. This was going to be a long night.

#broken ectoplasm #danny phantom #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #jack fenton #dannymay #dannymay 19 #my dannymay #my dannymay19 #worldbuilding #I tried to be as accurate as I could with injuries and the law but I'm sorry if it's off oaishfg #I TRIED STICKER #my phics #phics

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