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sithsecrets · 3 years

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A Matter of Expediency - Part XIV

2.9 k After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

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Part 14

2.9k words

Mentions: family drama, crying, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, dead loved ones

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Though it is your intention to deal with your family swiftly, your plans are pushed aside for a time.

In the wake of over twenty executions spanning across numerous planets and entire star systems, there’s much to be done. You spend days poring over work histories and background checks, working diligently to replace lost personnel. There are four positions that need filling on the Board of Charitable Affairs alone, though Hux is at your side to vet candidates. And then of course there’s spying to do, for several Valderan mineral companies are replacing key players in their operations. Canto Bight’s casino owners are kissing major ass, stolen funds need redistributing to various charities, several small insurrections must be crushed…

It’s like you blink and nearly a month’s gone by, days passing in a haze of paperwork, meetings, and formal appearances. You and Kylo are pulled here and there, always busy, always doing something, and the whole ordeal is more exhausting than you ever imagined it could be. Sleep becomes a luxury, and not for the first time do you find yourself marveling at the Chancellor’s ability to go without it. Still, the sacrifice is worth the reward, and you’re happy to see things straightening out amongst the Order’s possessions.

Finally, all is well, and you’re able to relax again. Handling your uncle and his children sits at the forefront of your mind, but you’re smart enough to know that you need rest before launching into yet another confrontation. Still, even after several days of decent sleep, you’re dragging your feet at midday, drowsiness clouding your mind and dulling your senses. More than once do you find the notion of taking a nap irresistible, and you sleep the sleep of the dead each time you lie down.

Miriam notices the change in your behavior immediately, though she says nothing as she helps you fix your hair and set your clothes straight each afternoon. Kylo is more vocal with his concerns, more insistent that you seek medical attention. He corners you one afternoon in your shared quarters, catching you just as you’ve awoken from another one of your naps.

“I fear someone or something has made you ill,” your husband presses, pushing back against your flippant view of the matter. You turn away from your vanity, amused as you take in your husband’s furrowed brow and tense posture.

“Kylo,” you say, voice dripping honey, “I’m just a little tired. I’m not dying.”

Your husband rushes to your side, taking your face in his hands as he becomes more desperate than you’ve ever seen him before. “My love, I am begging you—”

“And I,” you cut gently, turning to kiss the inside of his wrist, “am begging you to not worry about this.”

Kylo’s exasperation heightens, though you don’t let him go on.

“I’m fine, darling” you insist, fussing with the cuff of your husband’s sleeve. “I’ve never been better.”

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Returning to the palace is almost surreal, everything just as you left it all those months ago. You hadn’t expected anything to change, not really, but the sameness of it all still makes your chest clench in the strangest way. Every rug, every tapestry, every artifact and decoration… each one reminds you of a time that was not long ago, though you can hardly recognize that version of yourself now.

Two Knights of Ren flank you on either side as you glide into the receiving room you know all too well, your only protection on your home planet. Kylo was insistent for a while there, demanded that you be attended by stormtroopers and Reds and a number of other personnel, but you managed to talk him out of it. Ap’lek and Vicrul are more valuable than fifty imperial guards put together, and besides, you are adored here— the chance of you being harmed is slim to none.

Your uncle’s throne still sits on its dais in the center of the room, this fixture too unchanged. You approach it cautiously, mildly afraid to be caught near the thing on principle. It was the cardinal rule of your childhood— do not sit on Uncle’s throne, not under any circumstances. How many tongue lashings had you received for climbing up here as a child? Ten? Twenty? You can’t be sure after all these years.

What you do know, however, is that your uncle’s throne is even more comfortable now than it was in your childhood.

As if on cue, the patriarch of your remaining family comes striding into the room, mid-conversation with one of his attendants. His entire body shudders when he lays eyes on you, no doubt surprised to see you, or anyone else, for that matter, in this room. Arriving unannounced was a key element in your plan, and, if your uncle’s wide-eyed, horrified gaze is anything to go by, it’s already having the desired effect.

You let your uncle splutter stupidly on the floor for a moment, let him go through aborted versions of your name, your old title, and your new one before he finally blurts, “What are you doing here?”

It’s by no means a respectful way to address his Empress, but you’re too pleased with the way he cringes at his own words to care.

Setting your expression carefully, you gesture about the room with one lofty hand. “I’m here for a visit, Uncle. I wanted to check on the state of things here.” Your voice drops, becomes less pleasant. “The state of our people.”

Your uncle looks as if he’s going to vomit. This pleases you.

Mila is the first to come before you, startled like her father was upon seeing your face. She has the decency to kneel though, to show you respect as she waits for her brothers to arrive. And they do after several minutes, the both of them looking ruffled and perturbed as they shuffle into the room.

“You do not kneel before you Empress?” Ap’lek snaps, incensed by the way Sebastian and Tensin make no move to join their father and sister on the floor.

Sebastian, the smart-mouthed little shit that he is, opens his mouth at once, no doubt about to spit something acidic and defiant in Ap’lek’s face. But your uncle stops his son before he can do something stupid, yanking the eldest boy down onto his knees.

“Shut up and kneel down,” the King hisses. “Both of you.”

Sebastian and Tensin need no further prompting after that, though they obviously aren’t happy about being forced to show fealty to you. Mila, however, looks almost afraid, refusing to meet your eyes even as she says, “To what do we owe this honor, Empress?”

You like this change in your cousin’s demeanor, like the way she addresses you with humility and respect. So, you answer her question calmly, though you can feel rage coming to a boil in your chest.

“I am here, Princess, to tell your father that I know what he’s been doing with his people’s money.”

At this, your uncle pales, shifting uncomfortably on his knees. He, too, now will not look you in the eye, an indirect but still very overt admission of his guilt. You can’t believe him, so shameless and yet so cowardly at the same time.

Your uncle drops his head, voice subdued as he speaks. “Empress, I think you’ve misunderstood—”

Something in your snaps then, for how dare he treat your like you’re stupid, like you haven’t been paying attention?

“Oh no, Uncle, it is you who has misunderstood,” you snap, rising from his throne. Venom drips from your every word, Ap’lek and Vicrul your dark, dangerous shadows as you stalk closer and closer to your family. “You misunderstand the purpose of your tax dollars; you misunderstand the needs of your people. They suffer under the financial burden you’ve placed upon them while you snort spice and fuck whores.”

“Do not speak to my father like that!” Sebastian shouts, jumping to his feet in front of you. His eyes are wild, but you are equally as enraged, getting in his face, daring him to so much as touch you.

“Harm me or my child and it will be the last thing you do, you insolent little fuck.”

All eyes land on you, the members of your family stunned into silence by the implications of what you’ve just said. Mila is the only one brave enough to speak, eyeing you from the floor with a look of utter shock slapped across her face. “You’re pregnant?”

Remembering yourself, you take a breath and set your hands on the almost imperceptible swell of your stomach. “Yes, I am pregnant,” you affirm, speaking softly as you think of all your days spent in bed and the way Kylo cried when you told him what you knew. It was the one reason he was so insistent that you come here armed to the teeth.

Your family looks upon you as if you’re a live explosive then, falling all over themselves to widen the distance between all of you. You crowd right back in, however, undeterred and unafraid. “All of you must understand, then, why I came to do this before my condition progresses any farther.”

Tensin decides to be bold. “And what would this be?”

Cutting your eyes away from him, you look squarely at the King. “I’ve come to take your father’s crown.”

The noise that comes out of Sebastian is indignant and angry. Mila gasps, eyes wide and terrified. Tensin turns white as a sheet. And your uncle? All he does is stare up at your stupidly, mouth opening and closing on what appears to be its own accord for several seconds.

“You can’t— You can’t do that,” he stammers, looking from you, to his throne, and back again. “You can’t— Who will rule in my place? You?”

“I have the galaxy, Uncle,” you state, voice even and calm. “I don’t need this planet.”

The King looks at his eldest son and then back at you, a silent question swimming behind his eyes. You refuse to answer it, simply holding out your hand and eyeing the crown that glitters before you.

“Take that ridiculous thing off your head.”

Your uncle hesitates for a moment, a look of utter heartbreak coming across his face as he finally reaches up and out, handing you his crown as instructed. You hold the thing in your hands for a moment, studying the craftsmanship, the fine jewels that glint so beautifully in the light…

And then you throw it at Mila’s feet.

The clang of metal against marble bounces off the walls of the room again and again, the sound almost painfully loud in your ears until Mila’s able to get her hands on her father’s crown— or, rather, her crown. You see tears in her eyes as she studies it, looking at the gold and gilding as if she can’t believe it’s real.

Your uncle is clearly bewildered, shaking his head as he asks, “Why?”

“Because she’s smarter and more capable than both of your sons put together.” You lean down, really get in his face so that he can feel your anger properly. “And to think that you were going to sell her to the highest bidder.”

These words suck all other protests from your uncle’s mouth, and you can see now that this is over.

“You and the Princes will leave this palace immediately,” you declare. “You are not allowed to return for a year.”

Tensin looks distressed. “This is our home!”

You eye him coolly. “Not anymore. I can’t have you poisoning Mila’s reign with your childish partying and idiotic ideas. Now leave me and your Queen alone, all of you.”

Your uncle and his sons stumble out of the room, dazed and humiliated. Mila finally rises to her feet once they’re gone still weakly clutching her crown in one hand. Tears stream down her face. She looks like she’s been punched in the gut.

“Don’t waste it,” you say simply, tossing your head towards the throne in the center of the room. “I can take it from you just as easily as I took it from him.”

“I won’t,” Mila whispers. You believe her.

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

And then you’re walking out of the room, your guards trailing behind you without a word.

Mila calls out after a moment, calls you by your title and then by your real name.

You turn to her. “Yes?”

“I—” Your cousin is distraught, eyes darting as she pants for breath. “I’ve been do awful to you. I treated you like dirt, I— You could have let Father sell me to that old man, and I would have been miserable. Why would you give me this instead?”

You stare her down for a moment, considering what to say. “I’m not like you, Mila. I’m not cruel.”

Mila shudders like she’s been slapped, and you turn to leave the room.

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Ap’lek and Vicrul fly you out into the countryside after the lot of you make your exit from the palace, cruising at a comfortable speed as you take in the rush of scenery bellow you. This part of your planet feels as though it belongs somewhere else entirely, underdeveloped and free from the crowding of urban sprawl.

Your mother’s house, like the palace you just came from, is exactly as you remember it. The landscaping, the front steps, the courtyards— there’s not a blade of grass out of place, and the joy you feel because of this makes you want to weep.

Stepping inside is like stepping back inside, for you haven’t been to this place since you were a girl. Servants and small droids bustle about, putting on the finishing touches for your arrival. You’d asked to have the place opened up a couple of weeks ago, wanted to spend some time here after you finished dethroning your uncle. But now that you know you’re pregnant, you have other plans for this home.

Shooing Ap’lek and Vicrul away, you go exploring, halfway surprised that you still remember your way around. But no, you haven’t forgotten the layout of this house you love so much, these halls and rooms you played in as a baby.

You peek in your old bedroom, delighted to see that no one’s changed the colors on the walls. The same furniture that looked so big in your eyes then only looks average now— small, even. Your little window even faces the same flowers, the same fields, the same sunshine. At once, you decide that your child will know all these things too, just as you did.

Crossing the threshold in your mother’s room feels almost like stepping into a tomb, though the sensation is not one of dread or gloom like you thought it would be. Her bed and furniture are, like everything else in this house, just as they were when she was alive, though the vanity looks strange without her things strewn across it. You can remember your mother sitting there before the mirror, a tube of lipstick in her hand, a bottle of perfume close by. All little children think that their mothers are beautiful, and you were no different back then. Now, though, you realize that your mother really was a gorgeous woman, buxom and bright and so, so pretty. She would have you help her sometimes before she left for a party, would let you pick out her earrings or ask you which scent you liked better that night. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you reach up and unclip your own jewelry, laying the pieces out carefully on the vanity as your first action as this house’s new mistress.

The covers on the bed aren’t the ones your mother slept under, but you still feel like you’re crawling in bed beside her as you lie down. A length of time passes in silence after that, how much you can’t be sure, but you’re brought back to reality when you hear heavy boots in the hallway. Kylo appears in the doorway not one second later, quiet as he pauses to study you for a moment. And then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots, he’s lying down beside you. The two of your clasp hands, tangling your feet together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“How did it go?” Kylo asks, though you’re sure he already knows.

“Mila will be coronated this afternoon.”

Kylo nods, unfazed. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you say softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek. Kylo turns to kiss your palm, gentle in the same way he’s been gentle since he found out about the baby.

“This is a very beautiful house,” Kylo declares, leaving the topic of your uncle and his children behind. “Why are we here?”

“This is where I grew up,” you explain, fingers in his hair now. “I was born in this room.”

Kylo almost-smiles. “What a lovely place for a child. I see why your mother chose it for you.”

It’s your turn to nod. “I know. I… I want to be pregnant here. I want to give birth here, like my mother did. The baby needs to feel the sun on his face, needs to breathe real air when he takes his first breath.”

Kylo pulls you closer, kisses the top of your head. “I’ve always thought space was too cold for an infant.”

And just like that, the matter’s settled.

Everything’s settled.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #ame #my writing #tw: pregnancy #cw: pregnancy #pregnant!reader

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics Chapter 2.

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by strange shopkeeper Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- almost too well. In fact, Arch's life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as great as it seems....

Directory: [chapter one]

CW: bullying, deadname use (though never revealed), memory problems

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CHAPTER TWO: THE OLD WORLD

Earlier that day,

Their name rang down like an emergency alarm bell in their ears, breaking them from a state full of dreams that they wouldn’t remember by the time their feet had touched the floor. Despite the name not belonging to them any longer, Arch would still be forced to hear it until they could find their own place, their own life, their own bed -without their mother screaming down to them both figuratively and literally.

There it was, the damned name again, screaming down from the top of the stairs, and then the tired list of consequences for being lazy came down with it. You'll be late for the bus, you'll be failing class, you'll be working at McDonalds- which wasn’t fair- Arch knew of several kids in their grade making decent money through working at the one on the corner of twenty-sixth avenue and Carmichael Drive.

“Up! I’m up”-

“You have ten minutes, little lady!”

Arch shook off the comment as they found the shirt that they had worn the day previous laying on the carpet by their dresser. They tugged it on, and added some pants to perfect the outfit. Ruffling short bangs and tufting out the sides more evenly, Arch began to look almost like they had a full night of sleep. They hadn’t. Not with the carelessly loud insomniac who lived above them. Not with the dread of existence in this world to keep them up at night either.

Their mother was never a friendly stranger when it came to change, and after a year of begging her to stop buying dresses and skirts for them, their relationship came to an impasse. It was only a month ago that Arch was accused of heinous things like “being ungrateful for the body their Lord gave them”, and acting treacherously like a boy. At that point, Arch locked themselves in the bathroom with a pair of scissors, and didn't emerge until they had chopped their dark hair off just above the ears- leaving their mother crying on the main floor's hallway and praying to the Virgin Mary to save her daughter from the devil's grip.

Arch gave up going to mass after that too.

The truth was, that Arch was never once ashamed of their body or the way it was made- but they did have a keen sense on how they wanted to act, and apparently, it was too masculine for their mother’s comfort level. They weren’t created to be a boy or a girl, but maybe something slightly in between. The parts of their body didn’t matter nearly as much as who they defined themselves as- and as it was contemplated endlessly during sleepless nights, it was decided, by them and them alone that they were Arch.

In the morning rush up the stairs, Arch nearly stepped on the cat, instead of over it. Maleficent decided the near miss was an invitation to play, and dug her pin sharp claws into the denim at the top of their ankle. Arch kicked her off, unceremoniously and pulled their backpack over one shoulder. They were moving too fast to care whether the little beast had drawn blood this time. Skipping breakfast and any goodbyes, Arch was out the door just in time to watch their bus pass them across the street with the students inside, making obscene gestures with their fingers and tongues at them as it drove away.

Arch should have stayed in bed.

“Shit.” They sighed, taking the opportunity to walk through downtown. At the very least they could start looking for a job, a way out of the hellhole their mother called a home. And by the time they graduated, they would be out. They would be free. They would find this job, even if it took all freaking day.

Presently,

“That’s not what it says on your email or on your resume,” Lyrem noted casually, making a quick scrawl in the margins. “I’ll make certain that your name is respected here, but for governmental and tax purposes, I can’t use Arch until you’ve changed it properly.”

“That’s fine,” They responded. “I thought my chances on getting hired might have been better if I used my real name.”

Lyrem regarded them carefully over the cash desk.

“Arch is your real name. I’ll be looking forward to the day that it is recognized as such,” he advised sagely, “besides, it’s not like I haven’t changed mine a hundred times over. I know it can be a pain.”

Arch looked at them skeptically and stepped back.

“Dude, come on, are you fleeing the IRS? Involved with human trafficking”- Arch shook their head.

Lyrem couldn’t have been younger than fifty years of age, and it was very rare to find a man of that time so accepting of these modern values. He briefly glanced up from the generally unimpressive resume and smiled, almost robotically.

“I was only joking.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Arch inquired, “Your shop has been on this street for as long as I can remember; why do you need someone now? Why did the last part-timer leave?”

Lyrem placed the paper down. It was a fair question, reasonable for anyone to ask if they were being hired on so soon.

“I ran this shop with my wife for many years,” he answered honestly. “But… she is gone now…”

Arch raised their eyebrows, a look of sympathy crossing over their face until Lyrem finished their sentence.

“- Drained my savings account without my knowledge and ran off to Cuba with some ugly bastard named Phillip.”

Oh.

“I just hope she can still find happiness.” Lyrem finished, trailing off.

Oh.

“Sorry I asked.”

Lyrem shrugged.

“You’d have found out eventually, I’m sure. I may rant to you from time to time, I hope that is not an issue.”

“No, never. I love a good rant.” Arch grinned slightly sideways.

“Dress code: simply look presentable, is all I ask- don’t smell like patchouli, I suppose, is another thing, and you can play music in the store as long as it’s tasteful. There’s a record player in the corner.”

Arch had gazed around, there was indeed, a record player in the corner, but an old one- one they had assumed was merely for display use only. The entire shop was set up like something out of a seventies television series. The shag rug in the corner held a couple deep orange velour wingback chairs with the record player nestled between them by the window. Did people just sit in here to hang out?

The hanging chandelier over the desk was stained with a foggy yellow glass, and the shelves of tarot decks and mystical books were perfectly arranged alphabetically by subject, then by author. Lyrem continued as Arch took in the layout of the store.

“There is some Holst, Tchaikovsky, John Denver, Earth, Wind, and Fire and even some Segovia”-

“Mm. What’s Segovia?” Arch asked, turning back to him.

Lyrem’s face fell into utter disappointment. “You heard it yesterday, at the coffee shop.”

Arch didn’t expect such an offended response but then their face twisted in confusion.

“The coffee place was playing City and Colour,” Arch responded, recounting their chance meeting with total clarity. “Everyone knows City and Colour.”

Lyrem suddenly looked quite shaky. Arch moved around the side of the counter as he paled. Unsure what to do, they helped Lyrem into the stool in nestled behind the register in the corner.

“Do you need some water or something? Medication?”

“No!” Lyrem stood upright, pushing Arch away as they crowded him. “No, I’m fine!”

With a raised eyebrow, Arch backed off, suddenly rethinking the opportunity here.

“Apologies, Arch.” Lyrem grounded himself. “I didn’t mean to get so worked up over that.”

Arch looked at him sideways, and changed the subject-

“It happens… Teach me how to use the till?”

Lyrem nodded, attempting to brush off the odd discovery as simply an accident of the aging mind.

The evening shift progressed without further flaw, and after a tour of the store and several small sales later, Arch was taught to close out the till, and to close the store. It was shortly after eight when they both stood outside, and Lyrem handed over a set of silver keys to them.

“There you are. Now, I will put together a proper schedule that will fit around your school hours and have it to you tomorrow when you come in.”

Arch nodded. “Four o’clock?”

“Precisely.”

Arch turned to the left, heading home to the condo toward the southeast. They turned, a thank you, was on the verge of leaving their lips when they realized that Lyrem had left already, and was no where to be seen. The sun was just dipping below the horizon as Arch returned to the street, assuming their employer turned down the alley already to retrieve their vehicle. Arch walked the way home with contented steps, feeling proud- unstoppable, even.

#whump #whump writing #writing #creative writing #deadname #bullying mention #domestic abuse #Mystics by Alpaca #writing blog #whump blog

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gofancyninjaworld · 4 years

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Meta: What rough beast slouches to be born?

Right, webcomic chapter 125 has raised quite a few questions about cyborgs and I purposely left it aside. Until now. I’m sorry for the length, but I’m only allowed one ‘readmore’. :(

What we knew

Many moons ago for us, 9 or so weeks ago for them, Genos showed up at Saitama’s doorstep like a refugee from another world, telling a tale of destroyed towns, rampaging cyborgs, and desperate revenge quests. It’s seemed rather far-fetched, particularly as not much has happened on that front. Over the course of the story, we’ve had little bits of independent corroboration about the veracity of his story. The town that he was born in was definitely erased from the map. Yes, a cyborg is wanted in connection with the incident.

But where is that guy? Does it have anything to do with the powered suit-flogging cyborgs seen early on the series? Does it have anything to do with the ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ chapter the manga offered us with Drive Knight (but no context as to how that glimpse fitted into the wider story)? Come to that, where are all the cyborgs?

To start with, there are a lot of cyborgs of various sorts in OPM. Quite a few moons ago, I wrote a bit about them, drawing a distinction between those who used parts to replace lost function and those who looked at it as a change of identity: “Is the Organization a Claw Analogue?”

Chapter 125 has been surprisingly good about confirming some of what I surmised about cyborgs, but it’s brought some very good additional information! On we go!

There are cyborgs; and then there are Cyborgs

Our ambassador through the world of cyborgs is new Neo Hero recruit Koko (Solitude), who modified his body for the world of cyborg fighting, only he was a little too successful and no one would bet on him. We see him scanning various people and passing commentary on them.

The first to give him serious pause is Webigaza, who lost six months of life to getting her body modifications done -- no wonder she’s pissed off that her rival has self-destructed in the interim.

Koko is shaken by her having 71% of her body modified.

obsessive determination is terrifying to look at

Percentage body modification of the sort Koko is used to seeing, 30% maximum, you can do right here right here and now. It’s equivalent to losing a leg and most of the other. Here and now, we can also do brain implants to control tremors or fits or some neurological conditions, replace part of the heart, spine fusions, quite a few bits and pieces. The sort of modifications Koko is used to seeing are very functional ones that make sense for someone looking to get an edge in fighting for money. They’re also along the lines of what we’ve seen with One-Shotter or Death Gatling.

If you lose and replace all four limbs, that's 50% of your body modified. While quadruple amputees unfortunately exist IRL, I don’t know if anyone has had the kind of money, physical fitness and pure grit to do that. Nevertheless it’s not technically impossible. 60% sounds about right before you're now looking at breaking into the more vital parts of your body. The point at which the risk involved just can't be justified in terms of restoring function or health. I’m emphasising that because I’m going to come back to this point. He’s shaken because modifications that extensive aren’t about simply gaining an edge; they’re being willing to exchange serious bodily harm for serious power. It says a lot about who Webigaza is.

Within the Hero Association, I think we do know a hero round about that 60% mark. Jet Nice Guy comes to mind. He sports an armored exterior, powerful artificial limbs (which will need internal reinforcement to not just rip up his body), but his innards are all human. After the way he started to bleed out after Nyan slashed him, I realised that the reason it looked like intestines when the Deep Sea King ripped him open is because they were... >.< Sorry, dude.

the worst of both worlds -- too modified to have an easy life, still too weak to deal with the real monsters that exist

Scary enough, but then the security staff come in to stop the kerfuffle that Koko and his buddy, Mars Leo, were causing. Koko scanned them and was stunned into horror:

as disciplined and ruthless a pair of killers as you could never hope to lay eyes on. Definitely not frothing at the mouth, these two!

These two have modified themselves so extensively they’re almost inhuman. 94, 95% body modification is equivalent to having only 3.5 - 4.2 kg of live mass left assuming an original live mass of 70 kg. And, if the similar naming convention didn’t tip you off to it, it’s around the sort of hyper-extensive modification we see Genos having. [See under the readmore for a first-principles estimation I did a long time ago.] Maybe Drive Knight too if he’s a cyborg. What kind of power have they exchanged their human bodies for? What kind of people are willing to do that to themselves? Koko is very sure that he does NOT want to know.

When he tells you who he is, believe him

That’s dating advice often given to ladies overlooking obvious red flags but it goes with great force in OPM. ONE has characters tell us who they are early on, even if it doesn’t mean anything to us for a long time.

And he’s had Genos be a particularly straightforward and truthful character. He doesn’t always interpret things correctly, but he says it exactly as he sees it. Looking at the way the high percentage cyborgs we’ve met thus far either be very inhuman looking or completely disguised as regular human beings, he’s chosen an appearance that puts both his humanity and mechanical nature on display.

Something that the chapter has brought up that I've kept saying to people on the Discord and on Reddit: there is no medically justifiable reason for Genos to have a body as modified as he does. Which Genos TELLS US for fuck’s sake. His giant wall of text is a synopsis, no more and no less.

When he says that “...I asked Professor Kuseno to perform a procedure to modify my body. Then I was reborn as a cyborg for justice...” (Viz) “...I begged Dr Stench (sic) to transform me into a cyborg and I was reborn as a cyborg who fights for justice...” (Boon scanslations, who copied verbatim whoever did the webcomic version). It’s nothing to do with health. Feel free to have whatever headcanons you like, but please don’t confuse them with the story.

But it doesn’t end there. I look at Destro and Erimin and realise that there’s another perfectly truthful statement that’s been staring us in the face.

Genos knows. Why would he ask a mechanical engineer who uses a wearable battle suit and pilots armed drones to modify his body, let alone modify it to such an insane degree? Because he knows that Dr Kuseno knows how to build cyborgs like the one who destroyed his town.

We don’t know if Destro and Erimin have any responsibility for the destroyed town, but someone of their ilk does. Which brings us to a third nakedly truthful statement. When Genos talks of not believing that he could be defeated by anything other than the rampaging cyborg, he’s not anticipating winning because he’s suicidal. It’s because he’s aware that if he’s throwing rock, so too is his enemy: mutual annihilation is the best he can hope for.

At least until he met Saitama. And started to hope for not mutual destruction, but victory (check the difference in chapter 108 of the webcomic).

a world away from the attitude of mutually-assured destruction he started with.

Stepping away from the text a bit, it casts a different light on why he’s been so desperate to learn from Saitama. Learning Saitama's secret is his balance-breaker. He wants something other than rock, that is guaranteed to smash whatever rock his enemy might throw. But that’s not all there is. As Garou said, once he discovered Blue Fire’s flamethrower, once you know how a freakish weapon works, you know it. Any edge a new weapon might give Genos is liable to be studied and replicated (see how quickly Dr Kuseno was able to reverse engineer and adapt the principles of G-4′s curving energy beams). But Saitama’s strength is unphysical: no matter how closely you inspect his body, you can never relate the physicality of Saitama’s body to the power he can generate. That unphysicality, that’s what Genos wants too. It also puts in context why he’s been so fascinated by psychic power and wants to learn it if at all possible.

neat trick, I’ll take two! Genos dodging G4′s beams in chapter 38, and putting the principle of them to good use in chapter 120

And finally, since in his world, knowledge is literally power, it gives yet another layered reason Genos is so determined to keep anyone else from becoming Saitama’s disciple. If they learn his secret too, then the advantage he seeks will be lost. (that it doesn’t work quite that way for Saitama is a fact for us to enjoy and for him to find out).

Nothing is as scary as a human being

Nothing is as scary as a human being is one of the things that Reigen says to Tome on occasion. It’s in full force in OPM. Monsters may be strong, but they all live in the now. Only a human being could have put together the Monster Association. When it comes to cyborgs, their abilities may be inhuman but their thoughts, imaginations, morals and appetites are all 100% human. It’s a terrifying combination.

There’s something I missed when I likened The Organization to a Claw Analogue. In Mob Psycho 100, the protagonists are children and they're fighting an organisation made up of over-grown children -- adults who have refused to grow up. In One-Punch Man, the protagonists are adults and the bad humans in the story are very much adults too. With calculated cruelty and depravity to match. When The Organization bares its claws for real, this is going to get so brutal.

If Genos has not been standing still, then neither has his enemy. From the manga, even if we hold Drive Knight blameless and independent of all this mess, his besting Nyan told us that cyborgs can indeed come crazy-strong and highlighted how much more work Genos had yet to do. It also highlighted how very clever and calculating cyborgs can be -- well, they’re human, duh! If I was worried for his prospects then, in the webcomic, Genos is nowhere near as psychologically, physically or emotionally ready as his manga version is. And the guys who look to be his enemies aren’t going to be cutting him any slack. They’re very real. They’re not mad. And they’re closer than he ever imagined.

Fighting monsters is barely adequate preparation for whatever it is that’s to come.

Whenever Genos gets dragged into whatever it is those cyborgs are up to -- or runs into it, since he claims he’s still hunting the rampaging cyborg -- ‘rough’ doesn’t begin to describe it.

Extra Stuff

Edited from an answer I gave on Reddit to the question of how much of Genos was still organic about 2 years ago. It’s unexpectedly relevant!

Short answer: by mass, under 10% , assuming he would have weighed approximately 70 kg. By function, quite a bit.

The long answer.

I’m going to write this starting from what is most readily observable and readily inferred to the least. In appreciation of this being a work of fiction that treats physical laws lightly, I too am taking a more-or-less approach and will keep technical terms to a minimum. I'm also not a medic and I don't play one on TV -- assume generous hand-wavium. Items in {curly brackets} are incidental notes you can skip.

Level 0: Canonically observable. The least controversial observation is that Genos does have an organic brain. Genos does not live in a lab, but is able to live largely independently, including being able to eat whatever he likes with no ill-effect. Not just that, but he lives an active and hard-fighting life that appears to do him no permanent harm (I will return to this in a few paragraphs). What can we take from this?

Edit: There is also ONE’s initial settings for Genos, which I quote here from the Hero Data Book

ONE: There's no need to visit Dr. Kuseno's place every time when his wrist break down, because he got his own spare parts at hand. Dr Kuseno's Lab is there In case for a big reparation job, a drastic upgrade or an examination.

It’s tempting to think that because we see that he definitely has a brain that’s all there is – the brain in a jar phenomenon, so to speak. Something a lot of people miss is that the spinal cord proper isn’t optional either -- it’s a core part of the central nervous system. Spinal cords are a lot shorter than most people think they are, averaging 12 inches long for women and 15 inches for men. The rest are nerve processes that can be cut and will regrow (within limits). We’re also happy to allow for nerves and their endings -- there must be an interface for the prosthetics so they're under the fine voluntary control that we see. However, that’s not all that there can be. The Cartesian mind-body duality is completely wrong when it comes to physiology. Our brains are intimately bound with our bodies and our bodies with our brains. So what does one need?

Level 1: Perfusion. This is the most obvious one. Without a blood supply providing oxygen, glucose and removing waste products from our brains, we have 4-5 seconds of consciousness available, 2-3 minutes in which we can escape brain damage and 8-10 minutes in which not to die. So, number one is a reliable blood supply. Absolutely necessary therefore are a means of generating the various blood cells, perfusing and distributing them and disposing of damaged cells (red blood cells have a lifespan of 1-2 months). While not as acutely important, a self-sustaining blood supply is also the basis of a functioning immune system. It's a bit of an oops moment when your super-killer cyborg catches a cold and dies.

Accordingly, bone marrow is essential as a source of hematopoietic (blood-forming) stem cells. A suitably reduced blood vessel and lymphatic vessel system is also needed to run the blood where it needs to go. {An awesome feature of living beings is that new blood vessels will be recruited to where they need to go and redundant branches pruned back, a process known as vascular remodelling}. A reduced liver and possibly spleen will be needed to appropriately destroy worn out blood cells. At least one functional kidney, in the role of producing the hormone erythropoietin, without which red blood cells will not be formed. Not essential: a heart and lungs, which he definitely doesn't have. How much blood is needed? I’ll come to that answer once we’ve tallied how much body is needed.

Additionally, since part of perfusion is getting rid of metabolic waste, a liver and kidney will be absolutely indispensable.

Level 2: Homoeostasis. A living organism has a very narrow range in which its internal environment, such as oxygen saturation, temperature, pH (acidity or alkalinity) amongst other things can vary without harm.

There are around 40 or so hormones, the signalling molecules that keep us going as functional concerns, regulating such things as blood pressure, salt/water balance, available energy, sleep cycle, body temperature, mood, immune system... the list goes on. Each has a stupid number of secondary functions and interacts with others in a ludicrous number of ways (note highly scientific language). Their levels vary and change on the order of seconds to hours. It's a good job that the main organiser of homoeostasis, the hypothalamus, is part of the brain. {Incidentally, this is why a brain-dead cadaver cannot be kept ‘alive’ on life support indefinitely – everything falls out of sync and eventually to pieces.} To do this artificially is to have your cyborg never leave the lab: if you're not constantly monitoring and adjusting levels, then they will die. Fortunately, as mentioned, a living, functional brain has the control network needed to keep everything working without the extensive and expensive effort. Just add air, water and food (in that priority).

At this point, we've already met most of the organs needed to maintain homoeostasis in their capacity of maintaining a blood supply. We need to add some bone, not just to serve as a niche (living environment) for the bone marrow and its stem cells mentioned previously but as a source and sink for minerals, the adrenal glands and the thyroid gland. Finally, one must not forget pancreatic islets -- or it'll be for nothing as he goes into a diabetic coma.

Level 3: Energy. Speaking of food, a brain needs essential fatty acids for turnover and lots and lots of glucose for energy. It’s entirely possible to supply nutrients as total parenteral nutrion (TPN for short). People whose digestive systems have completely failed get individually formulated TPN solutions, which requires that they spend several hours a day feeding it into their blood supply. Not something we see Genos do. And yes, you heard it here: not everyone poops, but everyone sure as hell pees. While a brain only weighs about 1.5 kg, it uses up about 500 calories a day as glucose, so 700 ish calories a day should suffice for all the needs of his live mass. This bears no relationship to the amount of food we see Genos put away on occasion. Why hasn’t he wrecked his liver in a matter of weeks? The answer would appear to lie in the artificial digestive system Dr. Kuseno has given him which turns food into biofuel. It must be patched into a feedback loop which allows it to only supply what’s physiologically necessary at any given time. Lucky for some!

Level 4: So how much body does that add up to exactly? Nothing says you have to keep the necessary organs and blood vessel network the same size. With only a 1.5 kg brain to support, many can be shrunk a good 50% if not more. A total living mass of 7 kg would be quite feasible. We know from organ-on-a-chip experiments (and from unfortunate people who have lost part of their organs) that provided the essential architecture of the tissue is respected, they will work fine. Nothing says you have to keep them in the same place as the original organs were -- you can encapsulate it all in a can and shorten the nerves serving the organs to a more rational, manageable length. It's nice and compact and can be protected as heavily as the brain is.

Now we’re in a position to answer how much blood Genos has. There are about 70 ml of blood per kilogram of body weight, so at ~ 7 kg, we’re talking about 500 ml of blood. For comparison, the typical 70 kg person has 5 litres of blood. Why does this matter? Because it allows us to answer a question many may be curious about: how often does Genos get hurt?

The answer is: Almost Never. With so little body, and with most of that body consisting of aptly named vital organs, even small injuries can turn catastrophic in no time. Genos will bleed out with around 150 ml of blood loss, which is less than half of what is donated in a typical blood donation. Horrible and dramatic as the smashes he gets into are, it’s more akin to a Formula 1 race car tumbling end over end and catching fire, only for the driver to walk out unscathed. His cyborg parts are replaceable and can be sacrificed to protect what’s irreplaceable if need be.

#OPM #cyborg #Genos #meta #ONE hides things in plain sight #because they don't make sense until they do

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 4 years

Text

From Delaware With Love

Title: From Delaware With Love (COMPLETE) - Part 2 of SOME SUNNY DAY Series

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Dean x OFC

Summary: Julie and Dean continued... a few months after A View To A Winchester.

Word Count: 7,500

Story Content: language, angst, therapy, fluff, smut, show-level violence

“Sweet smiles. Nothing but trouble.”

Dean mumbled, ankle deep in water in a rather large run off pipe. Someone had thought it a good idea to cut this pipe lengthwise and level with the ground. His boots filled with water. The chilly, dark October night was only going to make this experience more unpleasant for Dean.

He’d slipped into the drainage system seconds prior, missing his foothold. But had managed to remain upright. His arms had flailed about to keep balance. The flashlight, held tight in his hand, scattered its white beam about as if Dean was in a nightclub; instead of preparing to hop a fence into a graveyard.

“Shit.” The sheathed machete dangled and rocked back and forth from one of his belt loops. His heart raced at the adrenaline surge of the miraculous feat of his feet and the soggy state of his socks. The bottom fabric of his jeans darkened and soaked up liquid of a questionable nature.

He huffed, made sure his foot placement was on solid ground, then hiked out the water pipe. The eight foot high chain link fence met him on the other side. The top appeared safe enough. No barb wire. The climb though. He sighed.

“Should have brought some wire cutters.” He grumbled, testing the bottom of the fence to try and pry some of the fence back to shimmie under. “Shit.” An owl hooted somewhere off in the not too far distance. Fallen leaves crunched under and stuck to his wet soles.

His plan of attack was getting worked out when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Can’t let it go to voicemail again. I won’t get a sexy greeting when I get home. Dean clicked the accept button. “Hey, Jules. What’s up?”

“Hey, I’ve been calling you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. You called?” He weighed his options at playing dumb.

A pause. “Yeah, Dean. Like three times. Where are you?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m looking into that thing your mom mentioned to me this afternoon.”

“What thing?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Nooo.” Julie dragged out the one syllable. Dean wasn’t sure who was going to get read the riot act worse, him or Brigida.

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you then.”

“Dean…” She sighed.

He cased the surrounding park area with his eyes, turning a full three sixty. The last thing he needed was for something supernatural to sneak up on him while he was being sidetracked by his lady. Not the way Dean Winchester goes out. He gripped the fence with one hand and gave her his best low rumble, leaning into the chainlink. “You gonna say my name like that when I have you under me tonight?”

She sighed again. “Not if you don’t tell me what’s going on. And, it’s already eight o’clock. What could you possibly be looking into this late for mom?”

A story he’d worked out after the second missed call poured from his mouth. Not a lot of details. Vague. Just enough. The Winchester Way. “Got a call into the night nurse manager at that assisted living home. I’m on my way there now to ask a couple questions. Using one of my bounty hunter covers.” Not a full out lie.

“Oh my God. She roped you into investigating that stuff Gloria told her about today?”

“It’s fine, baby. Really. I should only be another hour. Two at the most. Wait up for me?” That slight hint of a beg would get her to cave. He was sure of it.

Julie groaned. “I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”

Dean whined, soft.

Another pause. “Use your key. Wake me up when you get in.”

He grinned. “Sweetheart, if you don’t wake up when I get in, I’m not doin’ it right.”

She laughed at his cheesiness. He focused on that sound, used it to counter the impending dread of the current situation. “Just take some of the nonsense my mother hears from her friends with a grain, no, a ton of salt next time.” Julie added. “You don’t always have to swoop in and save the day, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And, come home!” She ordered.

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Turned out none of that had been nonsense. Brigida had seen Dean that Wednesday right around one o’clock. She’d come back after visiting her friend Gloria and decided to drop off a tray of baked ziti at his front door. The pasta should have been his clue. Unassuming little witch with her gluten spells.

Rattling on about the visit with Gloria, she made herself at home in Dean’s kitchen. The huge serving of sauce and cheese and carbs placed in front of him was enough for three people. Brigida sprinkled in the conversation over Dean’s feast along with her freshly grated parmesan cheese. Gloria lived in Golden Rays Assisted Living Senior Center. The poor woman had been all upset that afternoon, couldn’t enjoy her visit or lunch. That made Brigida upset by association.

The day before, Gloria had heard a pair of family members of an elderly resident that had recently passed. Gloria listened in on every word all the way from her favorite spot in the commons area. Which, Brigida added, was amazing since Gloria was deaf in one ear. The family was screaming in the hallway at someone in charge, threatening to sue. An insistence continued as they were escorted out. Something foul had been done to their father’s body before it could be removed from the premises.

Dean had sounded deeply apologetic about the situation in between mouthfuls of food. Nodding and chewing. Damn, I would have been such a chubster if Brigida had been my mom. He stopped chewing when Brigida mentioned what Gloria had heard from another resident. The gossip was someone had chewed on the dead body and sliced some flesh from the thigh.

“But, that wasn’t the only time it’s happened, Dean-ah.” Brigida shook her head. “Gloria says some nurses were going on about weird stuff with a body a month ago. The woman had died in her sleep and they didn’t get around to check on her until the morning.” She waved both hands around in shock and disbelief high over her short, stubby frame. “What kind of place let’s someone stay dead in their bed the whole night-ah? I mean, we’d do the vigils in the houses for the dead when I was in Italy as a child.” She made the sign of the cross. “But, those people were dead in their beds on purpose. These nurses are getting paid to do a job and are too busy on their phones. These damn phones.”

Dean tried to steer her away from the technology rant. A common theme in her conversations. He swallowed down some pasta. “What weird stuff, Brigida?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to the other body?”

“Oh. The same thing. The thigh had been cut. Butchered up. Like someone was slicing up a steak for later.” She shivered, another sign of the cross and some mumblings in Italian. That’s when Brigida pulled out that sweet little smile of hers with puppy dog eyes that could give Sam a run for his money. “Do you think you could ask around? You know people, right? All that bounty ‘unting stuff Giulia says you do. You must know people.”

He’d headed to Golden Rays right after lunch. The plan was to go in as a son looking for some long term care options for a sick mother. Along the way he’d scope out the place, talk to some of the residents. That would put Brigida at ease.

These kinds of places were always sad and depressing. The Facility Director, chirping on about the positive aspects of around the clock care, seemed oblivious to the actual environment she was highlighting to Dean. Random wheelchaired residents parked by windows or in corners stared off at nothing. Walkers were used as weapons by the more mobile elders. They’d goad the nurses with the tennis ball covered legs and refused medications. Loud fits of nonsensical outbursts or arguments over a game of checkers could be heard in the commons area over the DIY channel on the television.

“Would it be alright to talk to some of your residents? You know, just to get the real skinny on this place?” Dean asked, flashing the fifty-something woman escorting him around his million dollar smile. “Not that you’d ever tell me a lie, Tameca. But you know… only the best for my mom.”

She tugged and righted her wrinkled pencil skirt. “Well, I can give you a few minutes.” She smiled back and fussed with her hair. “How about I go and get you a packet of information to take home with you?” He nodded. She tapped his forearm. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean sighed, gazing at a nurse on the other end of the room with a couple residents. Nothing had his radar up. His nose twitched at the antiseptic cleaner in the air being used to hide a lingering scent of urine.

“You’re Dean!” The exclamation forced Dean’s head to spin. A woman with a jet black head of hair, coiffed like a football helmet, sat on one of the couches, an arthritic finger crooked in his general direction.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “I am. And, who might you be?” He raised his voice, knowing it was better to assume everyone had a hearing issue in this place.

She gave him a knowing nod and tapped the cane on the carpet in front of her feet. “Gloria.”

“Ah. THE Gloria? Friend of Brigida?” He smiled and pointed to the empty seat next to her. “Alright if I join you?”

“I never turn down the company of a handsome fella.” She grinned.

Dean eased into the couch. “Did Brigida tell you I might be coming by?”

“No. But she’s talked about you every week for the past three months when she comes by for lunch. ‘Dean this. Dean that. Dean’s such a good boyfriend to my daughter.’” Gloria leaned in. “She shows everyone here pictures of you on her phone.”

“Really?” That was a little concerning. “Pictures?” When the hell did she take a picture of me?

Gloria waved his look away. “She’s happy is all. And, wants to brag a little. Don’t be too hard on her. Giulia means the world to her. From what I’ve heard, you make her pretty happy.” Her wrinkles smoothed as she turned serious. “Are you here about what I told Brigida? She said she’d mention it to you. I heard about how you rescued Giulia.” She whispered and fussed with something in her ear.

Ah, one of those ‘I’ll only use my hearing aid when I want to types’. “Yes.” Dean matched her tone. “Did she tell everyone here about that, too?”

“No. Italians only like to hang our clean laundry out for everyone to stare at. Not the dirty stuff.”

Dean chuckled. “Is there anything else you can tell me, about what’s been going on?”

“Well,” she scooted a little closer next to him on the couch and grabbed his knee, “Heard something kind of scary about Night Nurse Nancy.”

Sounds like a character in a porn. “Okay.”

“Freddie… well, he almost checked out the other night. I just got an earful from him. He told me that he was having trouble breathing… real bad sleep apnea.” She pointed to a man who looked to be about a hundred sleeping in a wheelchair.

Dean pointed, brows raised in confusion. “You got an earful out of that man?”

She nodded. “I’m the only one he talks to around here. Everyone thinks he’s a nut job. Anyway, he told me he woke up the other night and thought he was dreaming, when he saw Nancy standing over his bed. She took the damn CPAP machine off his face and just watched him. For minutes. And, then…”

Dean frowned. “Yeah?”

“She licked his face. Said he was going to taste yummy.”

Still sounds like a character in a porn.

Gloria continued. “But, Nancy’s been acting a bit strange over the past couple months.”

“Well, face licking is definitely a contender for strange behavior.”

“Depends on the situation, young man.” Gloria flirted with a wrinkle-laden grin.

Dean cleared his throat.

The old woman didn’t skip a beat in the conversation. “She’s been missing work a lot. Used to be like clockwork. Real dependable.” Gloria sighed. “And, she used to smell so nice. Like begonias. Now, when she comes into my room to help me get ready for bed,” her nose wrinkled up, “she smells like a sewer.”

Pieces slotted into place in Dean’s head. “Would you happen to know Night Nurse Nancy’s last name and when she comes into work?”

Gloria did know Nancy’s last name. It was Kissle and she usually started her shift at six o’clock. Dean said his goodbyes. Gloria teased he should come by one day with Brigida for lunch. The macaroni and cheese they served on Wednesdays wasn’t half bad. Even Brigida ate it. Tameca, the Facility Director, cornered him with a Golden Rays folder before he could duck out and insisted she get his phone number. He obliged, giving her his other, other cell phone contact.

Dean drove Baby to the nearest coffee shop, lugged his business laptop in with him, logged onto the Free WiFi, and did his best Sam impression for a good half hour. Sipping on some black coffee, he used his hunting know-how and skip tracking tools and resources to find out as much as he could about Nancy Kissle. He and Julie exchanged some lively and sexy text messages in between his research. He told her he was out on a quick job, but should be able to swing by her house later. If not for dinner, then most definitely dessert (winky face emoji, tongue licking face emoji).

The information hadn’t been too hard to dig up. Nancy was a little over fifty. Single. Never married. Lived about five miles from the facility. There was no harm in swinging by her place of residence. Maybe he could ask her a few questions. Or do some snooping. He had a hunch, but he needed to be sure. It was almost five. Maybe he’d get lucky. But, his stomach grumbled, so he grabbed a sandwich to eat in the car before he left.

The five story apartment complex looked like any other. Unassuming, boxy and boring, with a worn green covered awning leading to the entrance doors. A horseshoe shaped parking lot wrapped around the building. Dean drove around the lot, slow and determined, until his eyes landed on the license plate attached to Nancy Kissle’s motor vehicle registration. Still here. He parked far away from the puke green compact hatchback belonging to the nurse. He frowned at the similarity in shape and size the suspect’s car had to Julie’s.

Deciding his usual attire would not be too out of the ordinary for anyone to remember if things went south, he slid a hammer into the large interior pocket of his army jacket. Dean was flying by the seat of his pants again. And, he kind of enjoyed it. Baby’s door clicked closed upon his exit.

Enjoyment versus duty. That was the crux of his last therapy session with Tricia that very morning, hours before Brigida arrived. Tricia was a sixty year old licensed therapist who also had thirty years of hunting under her now hung up belt.

Dean pulled his phone out and paced outside the locked doors of the apartment building. He pretended to have a conversation with someone, glancing in the glass doors, until a man appeared in a hurry on his way out. He chatted away into the phone and slid through the space of the open doorway the resident had left in their wake.

The tiny entryway had a wall of lockers that served as mailboxes on one side. The room smelled like dirty gym socks.

Charming. Nothing like Tricia’s place, that’s for sure. Tricia had a condo in Denver, Colorado. Dean got a little tour of her swanky abode in their first telehealth session two months ago. He’d needed proof of her credentials. The diplomas on her wall made no difference. He wanted to see her hunter’s stash, her old tools of the trade. A pull of a safe door, hidden behind an expensive looking painting that pried back from the wall on a hinge, let him peek via video chat at the guns, knives, spell books, and ingredients used to make tinctures and antidotes. There were even a few vampire teeth and werewolf claws in a mason jar. They tinkled against the glass when she shook it. The only things Tricia hunted now were elk. An eight point trophy hung above the wall behind her in the office.

Dean noted the permits and approvals hanging over his head in the apartment building alcove. He also did a sweep for cameras. One pointed at the entrance door. But, lucky him, there was no sign of another one. Especially one pointing in the direction of what he’d been looking for since he stepped inside. Assuring no one was heading in or out, he sprinted to the far corner and pulled the fire alarm. A pitiful dinging emerged from the ancient system. Seconds later, the other alarms in the building triggered and echoed back, louder and with purpose. His eyes darted up the stairwell and then the elevator. Let’s hope Nancy is responsible and follows guidelines in an emergency. Dean started up the steps, slow, feeling that surge of enjoyment pulse through him.

Enjoyment versus duty. He had lists to put together for his next therapy session. Forty three fucking years old and I gotta do homework. Things he did for enjoyment. Things he did because he had to. See if any connected, overlapped. Dean already told her he’d enjoyed hunting. Needed it like breathing. Had grown into embracing the duty and found a carnal pleasure in the hunt at a young age. Tricia already knew the whispered, hero tales of the fabled Winchesters. In fact, having Dean Winchester as a client was like hitting the jackpot. She might write a dissertation about him if he ever gave her permission. Dean wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or a threat.

The question, Tricia posed, was if he could consider himself a good person, not broken, outside the realm of normalcy, because he found enjoyment in the duties of a hunter. There were many things people enjoyed centuries, even only decades past, that had been considered evil, abnormal. If enlightenment and acceptance was possible on a societal level by a large majority, Dean should be able to give himself the same hall pass.

Residents passed him down the apartment building stairwell. Some in a hurry, others grumbling at the disruption. “Wrong way, buddy.” A smart ass, about Dean’s age, tossed the comment out at him.

“Making sure my girlfriend isn’t home, thanks.” Dean mumbled. As he rounded the corner and glanced up, he identified Nancy from her drivers license picture, exiting the door marked “3rd.” Dean slowed as the ample bosomed woman he’d been looking for passed his figure. The stench Gloria mentioned wafted into his nose. Not a sewer. But how would Gloria know that smell or have anything else but a sewer to compare it to? Only someone who’s spent time six feet under would know that smell. All those endless hours racked up, thousands of them probably, surrounded by dirt and rotting corpses. That’s the smell of a graveyard.

Nancy continued down the stairs, not even giving Dean a second glance. A peek down the zig zags, making sure that if he couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see him, gave him the confidence to head through the door into the third floor hallway. A sweeping survey of the hall confirmed he was alone. The order of the numbered apartment doors guided his direction. His steps hurried to the right and followed the bend that turned left. Boots halted at the threshold of 3E. A floor mat covered in cartoon cats chasing balls of yarn welcomed him.

Poor Nancy. He knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Dean deemed the area around him clear with a tilt of his head left, then right, and a tuning of his ears to the sounds of nothing in the hall. He pulled the picks out of his pocket. Fiddling with the pins in the lock, hunched over, for longer than anticipated made his back uncomfortable. An inner debate of a kick down was admonished once the click of success bolted him upright to twist the doorknob.

A meow from a long haired white cat greeted him when he stepped in the doorway. It snaked and rubbed around one of his shins, purring, transferring its fur onto Dean’s jeans. Another orange tabby was not as friendly, frozen in place near the love seat in the living room. Dean took another step inside and the orange cat fled the scene. The white feline bolted after it in what looked like a playful chase. The earthy scent hit him, like compost on steroids.

Dean readied himself with the hammer in hand and canvassed the small apartment. The cat food and water bowls were filled in the living room. He passed by the bathroom. There were self care products on the vanity, all arranged nice and neat. The litter box in a nook in the hallway was clean. What the hell? Maybe it’s not…

A turn of a corner had him in the kitchen. The chest freezer in the spot where a table would normally sit halted his steps. Locked. He aimed and swung the hammer on the tiny combination lock twice. It broke into pieces and scattered on the floor. The contents of the freezer made Dean cringe. “Son of a bitch.” He mumbled. “Poor Nancy.”

Nancy still wore the tattered remains of her bloody nurse uniform. She’d been folded and wedged into the freezer like a trash compactor had given up halfway through. An even more macabre version of a contortionist trick. The ghoul hadn’t even bothered to close the eyes of its victim. Not that Dean had expected something close to mercy from anything supernatural. Her eyeballs were covered in a layer of frost and cloudy. The cat pattern of her scrubs bloody in patches where the monster had been snacking.

He closed the lid, then opened the fridge door. Clear glass storage containers, all from a matching set with pink plastic lids, were filled with, at first glance, cuts of meat, pork. “The fucker’s moved in. And, it likes cats. And, not just as a side dish.”

Keeping Nancy on ice to use her form. Nice and comfy living her life after a couple months. Must have bought the freezer right after she died. A blaring firetruck and sounds of activity from the open kitchen window had him peek down to the parking lot. Shit. Her car’s gone. His watch read that it was almost six. It must have gone to work. Gotta get another lead on this thing and its habits. Routines. Can’t wait here for when it gets back and can’t off it at the nursing home.

A pile of envelopes, bills and paperwork piled up on the kitchen counter got his attention. His fingers waded through, looking for anything out of the ordinary. “Hm. All Saints Cathedral Cemetery.” He studied the invoice. “A mausoleum crypt? Buying a vacation home, too?” He snapped a picture of the invoice to grab the address and crypt location. “Well, I know where I’m going next.”

Now, after tossing the machete over first as a precaution, Dean climbed over the chain link fence, grumbling and cursing. He might be really close to wrapping up this issue. And, dammit, he wanted to get home to Julie. Warm in her bed, waiting for him. Safe.

It took another twenty minutes to search the grounds of the cemetery. Dean tracked down the ten by ten crypt that Nurse Nancy had put a down payment on. The elaborate, gothic stone work and the crumbling mortar of the exterior proved this wasn’t new construction. What the hell? Can you lease these things?

The makeshift crowbar, an iron post loosened from a fence five minutes prior, wedged into the gap between the crypt gate and the jamb broke the seal with little effort. Dean recalled the brother and sister ghoul duo that had killed his half-brother Adam. Need to make sure this is a swinging singles pad and not a home for the fucking Brady Bunch.

The post clanged to the concrete. “Lucy! I’m home!” Dean belted out in his best Desi impression. The machete eased out of the sheath. The swish of the blade swirling in his rotating wrist. It finally settled in position by his thigh. The flashlight focused on the corners of the stone structure, the walls, the ceiling, the ground.

Nothing here. Not yet.

A gust of wind shot past Dean, into the crypt. At least, he’d thought it was the wind for a second. Then Nancy, a crazed look in her eye, out of breath, hair wild, appeared before him in the center of the floor. And smiled.

Her palm connected to his sternum in a classic Bruce Lee move. The force threw Dean backwards out of the crypt onto squishy sod, and thankfully not a tombstone, about ten feet away. He landed arms flailed and outstretched - on purpose to avoid slicing off any important bits with the machete. “Ooof!” Dean groaned. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning.” His flashlight now lost, he rose trying to focus in the dark. The ghoul’s shadow strolled over. “Strong, silent type, huh?” Dean shrugged and wheezed. “Can’t shut me up to save my life.” He gripped the machete like a baseball bat. “I gotta know, though.” He gasped. “What’s up with the cats?” His insides vibrated from the manhandling.

Nancy stopped, a couple feet in front of his figure. Her head tilted.

“I mean is the crazy cat lady thing just a bit? You have a partner in crime helping you out with all this?”

“What? Never been killed by a strong, independent ghoul before?” She finally spoke. Her voice shrill. Cackling.

Dean smiled. “All I needed to hear.” He swung.

And didn’t miss.

When he got back to his car, Dean called Detective Marty Tullman and explained the whole mess.

“Damn, Winchester. Again? If I weren’t as good a cop as I am and seen the things I’d seen, I’d think you were some serial killer baitin’ me along.” Marty sounded tired over the line.

“Saved your life, remember?” Dean reminded.

“Yeah, yeah. So, what I gotta clean up?”

“I tried to clean up my prints back in the apartment. But, in case any get lifted…”

He sighed, “Yeah, yeah.”

“And, the twinsie ghoul is in the crypt for safekeeping. Just so you see it for yourself.” He snapped his finger. “Get those cats some nice homes, Detective.”

The powerful jets of his bathroom shower sprayed hot water with an intense focus on all his aching muscles. He leaned into the heat and wet for a good ten minutes, stretching and grunting, trying to squash the adrenaline surge along with the impending soreness. A helping of pain meds and a beer were taken for good measure. The comfy sweats, his blue Henley, and slippers would be enough for the quick trek to his final destination. He slipped house keys and the phone into a pocket after locking up. Debated, then rounded the front of his house to cut through the neighbor’s backyard. No more fence climbing tonight.

Dean halted at the end of Wes and Samuel’s driveway, spotting the red embers of a cigarette near the back porch, before their motion sensor spotlighted him.

“Hello, Dean.” Samuel crooned his way. A camel colored cardigan hung loose from his shoulders and hunched frame, leaning elbows on bent knees. A puff of the cigarette had it blazing red again.

“Sorry, Samuel. Alright if I head through?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask. Neighbors and all.” He grinned in the golden glow. “You should probably install a gate between your backyard and Julie’s, though. For convenience.” A tip of the head toward Julie’s house followed, along with a wink.

Dean smiled. “Good idea. I’ll run the idea by her. Have a good night.”

As he walked away, Dean heard Samuel mumble, “Not as good a night as you’ll be having, I’m sure.”

Dean crept through Julie’s house, avoiding as many of the creaks in the floor as possible. It was a thoughtful gesture on his part but totally unnecessary. He’d learned over the past couple months how sound of a sleeper his lady was. Out like a light when she didn’t have much to fuss or worry about. Out even faster after a horizontal, or on occasion vertical, sexy romp with him. She mumbled one night, in his arms as she drifted, that she hadn’t slept so well in years. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled him, hearing that.

He slid through the doorway into her bedroom. His eyes caught her luscious frame tangled in a mess of comforter and sheets in the middle of the bed. Such a bed hog. He touched the small lamp on the nightstand to get a better view. His and her house key, and silenced phone, landed on the dresser.

The adrenaline flooded through him again. He wet his lips and strolled to the foot of the bed. Took his time. Drank her in. Ready for me. Her bare shoulders peeking out from the covers indicated she’d gone to bed with not much on, anticipating his return. Her little moans, her version of snoring, increased an octave with each inhale. He waited for it to reach that plateau, crest, and die down again, quiet and calm. He’d gotten used to that little detail, stayed up close to an hour one night to memorize her breathing pattern. It helped his not as restful sleeping habits adjust to hers.

Dean pulled at the comforter with a tight grip. It snagged with the dead weight. The insistence and tugging caused her to moan in her sleep. Dean’s commando cock twitched. She rolled over onto her back, freed the comforter. Feeling like he hit the jackpot, Dean realized he had hooked the sheet as well. Julie rolled to her other side and sighed.

Oh, yes. Sooo ready for me. He peeled the sheet back and away. Saw the slope and crook of her arms hiding those breasts he needed to get his mouth on. The dip of her spine and the curve of her ass and those plump cheeks he wanted to slap. Thighs he wanted wrapped around his ears, blocking out any noise so all he could hear was his mouth sucking and working her pussy into a puddle. The tight cords on the back of her knees he ached to feel clench over his shoulders.

Dean removed his shirt and sweatpants. His cock was now at full attention and already dripping with precum. “Jules.” He whispered, the comforter and sheets now a small hill at the bottom of the mattress. He had to climb over, careful and slow. He slipped onto his tummy and army-crawled toward her.

His hard cock slid and pushed into the mattress. He groaned. She stirred. Another sigh and she rolled fast, flopped onto her back, slapping his cheek with curled fingers and the back of her hand. Dean cursed. Julie snored.

He felt his eyes widen. Her breasts rose with each deep breath. He tilted his head away from her offending arm and slithered over to her chest. He whispered. “You better not slap me again, Jules. Not in the mood.” She moaned, in her dream world, back at him. “Shit. Maybe I am.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. His chin hovered inches above her ribcage. The shadow of his profile covered the rise of her soft tummy. The hunger rose with the travel of his gaze over the solid, protruding hip bones. He loved to gnaw on them before getting down to business between her legs. She was a feast for sore eyes.

There’d still been so much he wanted to explore with this woman. He had to keep reminding himself to believe he had time with her. The safe part, that’s most important right now. Thoughts and visions of tying her up had gotten him hard beyond comprehension. Hell, he even toyed with the offering of Jules wrapping silk cords around his wrists. Pink ones. He’d talked him through how bad of an idea all of that was in front of the bathroom mirror weeks back. There was the potential flashback and trigger of Jules’ kidnapping by the Jinn. None of it would be a wise venture. He couldn’t ask her, even in jest, if she’d be up for that kind of kink. At least not now.

So, the weeks together had been playful, light, and he let her guide him. Watched with surprise and awe when she expressed her cute little dominant side. Especially when his mouth went where it wanted to right now. Or, that time she was down on her knees, giving him the privilege of her mouth on his cock, and decided to slap his ass right as he got close to coming.

As much as he ached to wake her with his tongue or cock deep inside, it was not a good idea.

“Julie?” He whispered, louder.

Nothing.

“Julie?” He nudged into her side with his chin. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

An angry little moan escaped. Grumpy.

He sighed, then spoke louder, with more force. “Okay. I guess I’ll just get dressed and head back home.” He leaned on his side, propped up on an elbow, ready to rock off the mattress, watching for any reaction from her.

That dangerous arm curled around his chest, hooking into his side. “Dean?” she asked, stirring from sleep, eyes still closed.

“Who else would be naked in your bed?” He teased and relaxed into the softness of her body. Her tummy was the perfect pillow for the side of his face. His neck and shoulder wedged against her waist. A nuzzle made her sigh, knowing she appreciated that he took a razor to his scruff after the shower earlier.

He studied her face from his vantage, past her breastbone, caught the lips turning into a smile. “Depends on the night. Have to check my schedule.” She mumbled. “What time is it?”

Dean swiveled his head to read the alarm clock. “After ten.”

“Deeaann.” She grumbled. “Why so late?”

“Shhh…” He dialed down her grumpiness with a handful of breast and the soft rolling of her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You gonna yell at me or let me take care of you?”

A pleasant moan erupted. “Can’t we do both?” She whispered.

He chuckled. “Bossy.”

“Baby.” She countered.

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that?” Dean bolted up, rocked back on his knees, bare ass against his heels. Julie’s eyes bolted open as well. He loved that look of amazement and lust he could conjure. He grabbed her by a knee with both hands, lifted the leg up in the air and swung it around him, scissoring her open like a living doll. Just as quick, he leaned down kissing her tummy. His forearms tunneled under her back between the mattress, lifting and placing her in a more comfortable position now that he’d bent her into an odd angle. Her head flopped by the side of the bed.

She giggled as he cradled the back of her head with one hand and shoved two pillows under her ponytail. “So thoughtful.” She teased.

“I try, sweetheart.”

Julie’s smile softened. Her cool fingers gripped his jaw. “I know.” She lifted off the pillows and seized his lips in a kiss. “Hm.” The sound vibrated in his mouth. Continued to pulse through his skin when she released. “I missed you.”

He grinned. “You just had me last night.”

She shrugged. “And?”

He sat back up between her legs. His knees splayed under her thighs. All of her opening to him. His thumb slipped through the fold, light and teasing. She groaned. He was still sore as hell but he was going to spend at least an hour on her body. “How do you want me tonight? Cause I have all sorts of ideas.”

She bit her bottom lip before speaking, squirming under his touch. “I had a surprise for you. That was why I wanted you to come home early.”

His eyes dipped down to inspect the wetness coating the two fingers he had swiped past the dark curls and through the pink folds. He licked his lips and gazed back up at her face.

“Dean. Shit. I guess it can wait until the weekend.”

“Seriously? You’re going to hit me with ‘had a surprise for you’ and make me wait?” He lowered his voice on purpose. “Come on, baby. What was the surprise?” He searched for her wet hole, found it, and snuck in with a fingertip.

“You made me wait.” She shot back. Dean smirked at how hard she was trying to stay focused and angry. “God, why do you have to be so goddamn infuriating, adorable, and fuckable all at the same time?” She huffed and stared him down with a shaky, crumbling glare.

“Gift.” He strummed her clit with his thumb, found that spot that tapped her like the second hand of a clock. Slight tremors shook through her skin and hitched breath. His mouth betrayed him, confessing, “Damn, I love how your body responds to me. Wanna be inside. Feel you all around me.” He tested her with a soft order. “Grab a condom. You’re closer. And, I don’t want to stop… this.” He thrummed her hard now.

She hummed, thinking. Her chest arched up. “So, maybe then I should give you your surprise?”

“Jules.” He groaned. “Come on, baby. One way or another, we’ve got to shift this into the next gear. Quick.”

“I went on the pill a few weeks ago.” She moaned out.

Dean stilled his movements. “Huh?”

Her panting continued. He watched her try to come down from the arousal. “Went to the doctor and got some birth control.” Her mouth danced around the explanation. “Steve had gotten snipped years ago. I thought… if you wanted… if this was going somewhere… we might want…” She shrugged. “Be closer.”

Dean’s lips parted, listening to her. His hands left the warmth and wet of her. He leaned down, let his hands cage her at the waist.

“I had to get tested, just to make sure, right after I found out what the asshole did.” She continued. “So, I know I’m fine.” Her eyebrows raised in hope.

Dean smiled.

“If you aren’t sure, we can wait until you get tested. I mean, with all your past man whoring.” She smiled back.

“Man whoring?” He chuckled.

“No one is this good without lots of experience.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re pretty damn good. Does that mean…?”

She tilted her head and pursed her lips.

He sighed. “Want to know one of the scariest things I ever did?”

The curiosity won and she nodded.

“Getting tested for every damn STD two years ago. When I moved to Delaware… after…” There were still the secrets he had to navigate through. He’d only told her more about his mom and dad and his nomad existence with Sam over the past month. But, nothing about the supernatural and the Winchester saga. He sighed, hating the need to audit the details. “I figured if I was going to clean slate it, I might as well know if I had anything else to worry about. I mean, I’d had the occasional… annoyances over the years… with all my man whoring as you so nicely put it.”

She giggled, her hands gliding up his arms, muscles bulging, locked straight on either side of her waist now. “And?”

“By some miracle, all good.” He begrudgingly gave Chuck credit for that.

She nodded, the smile growing. “And no one but me since you got tested?”

“Nope. No other pussy has passed these lips or been introduced to my cock.”

She slapped his biceps. “Nice.” Her lids narrowed. “What about ass?”

He laughed. “Nope. No other orifices.” He added as her mouth opened to question again. “Female or male.”

“Oh. Do I get to hear some fun tales?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Let’s see how this goes first?” Dean asked.

Julie nodded, let the words breathe out husky and deep. “Yes. Please.” She removed one of the pillows under her head and got comfy. “Andiamo, Bello.”

Dean gulped, buckled at the elbows and lay prone on top. Staring into her eyes, cushioning into the soft curves and feeling the hard ridges. “Not fair, Jules. You know what you do to me when you start talking Italian.”

Her hands roamed over his shoulders. “You feel so good already, Dean.” She kissed his lips soft and tender. “I’ve been wanting to really feel you since that first night together.”

His hardening cock settled into the warmth, sliding and teasing into the folds with a subtle rocking of hips. “You’re sure?” He asked. “You let me inside like this, I may never come out.” She giggled into her moan. Their lips, wet with the mingling and his licking, slipped over each other. Need. Want. All of her body heating up under his. So close. The thought of being even closer to this woman stilled him for a moment, froze him in the kiss. Should I? Without her knowing all of it?

He knew she felt whatever that was that happened in him. She pulled back. Threaded fingers through his hair and stared into his eyes. Deep. Hard. “Honest? In this moment?” She asked, smiling.

He nodded, those words heard from her often over the past weeks, requesting a glimpse into his thoughts.

“No plans on hurting me?”

“Of course not, sweetheart.” He whispered. “Right through to my bones. All I wanna do is make you happy.” He shrugged. “And, not piss you off too much in the attempt.”

She squirmed and circled her hips under him. “Pissing me off is half the fun, though, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Maybe.” Her motions ignited him again. “God, you’re really gonna let me, huh?” He licked his lips and then hers. “It’s been so long since I’ve done that. Hot stuff isn’t gonna last long.”

“Then enjoy every second.” She mumbled, slid over to nibble on his ear and whispered. “I wanna watch.”

Dean groaned. “Fuck. Really not gonna last long if you keep ordering me around.” He took a deep breath and pushed up into a plank position. Her face tilted up, breath hot, exhaling fast against his chin. Their bodies shifted and eased in place, both of them focusing on the heat of their sex. One hand pushed her bent leg farther up and into the mattress, then stroked his length, still wet with her. “Can you see alright?” He asked.

She nodded, kissing his chin.

He smiled and dipped down to brush her forehead with his lips. His cock slid through her folds, slipping and coating, readying. He knew what he was looking for, of course. Knew her anatomy and proportions, had them seared and memorized in his brain. But he wanted to enjoy the feel of every inch of pink and plush and pulsing flesh. Enjoy every second.

Her hip tilted up, eager. Her face was flushed. She licked her lips and Dean almost collapsed on top of her.

He pressed the tip to her entrance. “This what you want so bad?”

“You know it is.”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart?”

“Want to feel you. Just you, deep inside.”

“Fuckin’ Hell.”

He moaned and pressed in an inch. His hand assisted in the guidance for another second or two. Then, he let go, balanced above her on locked arms again, his back curving downward in a slalom slope to his ass. His eyes closed, relishing the exquisite torture of skin to skin; the clutch of her walls accepting him; the sounds she made, a little more high pitched than usual.

His eyes opened, catching her staring at his face. He smiled. “Thought you wanted a good view down below?”

“Nothing wrong with the view up here, either.” She urged him down to share a kiss, soft and slow.

He broke from her mouth. “Watch us, Jules.”

She nodded. And he watched with her as their bodies connected. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he eased down, seated into her complete and full. And she gave him the sweetest smile.

“Sweet smiles.” He groaned in delight. “Nothing but trouble.”

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean x ofc #spnfanficpond #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic series

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feuillyys · 6 years

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Tbh, what do you think the Les Amemes™ would do for jobs?

(i realized halfway through this that you might have meant for this to be about 100% less serious than it ended up being but)

enjolras becomes a motivational speaker, and it’s something that shocks everyone. he spent a lot of time in college unsure of what he should do that would have the most positive impact on society and on the people in his life, but it all started by accident when he was filmed going off his soapbox and getting emotional and somehow went viral. he becomes really well known for helping inspire people to overcome their temporary situations, for feeling comfortable in their own skin, for coming to terms with and accepting their gender and sexual identities even if no one else does. he gives a TEDtalk once and all his friends make memes out of it but it stays in the top ten most viewed for weeks after it airs. he finds the best way to make an impact is to inspire others to start trying, too.

grantaire is the art teacher at an elementary school. he had a little bit of success selling his own artwork but put it aside when he found out how fun it was to spend day after day with little kids. he found it wasn’t so hard to get up in the mornings when he was doing it for something he loved. (plus he invested in a really good coffee machine. like. a really good one). he loves teaching the young ones because they don’t care about balance or lines or composition, they just want to create and he misses how simple it used to be. he has an entire scrapbook at home filled with every creation he’s ever been given and when he’s feeling particularly low he pulls it out and smiles at all of them and then let’s himself paint for fun, just like them.

courfeyrac spent a lot of his years struggling to decide what he wanted to do with his life. he didn’t decide on purpose to become a teacher, but it seemed like the logical choice as soon as he filled his schedule with education classes. he’s the teacher that everyone loves, eccentric in his fashion tastes and always making the assignments crafts, but his success rate is exceptionally high and he genuinely cares about his students. he teaches them to be kind, and accepting, and helps them come to terms with their passions regardless of what they are.

combeferre becomes a pediatric surgeon. it’s hard at first, and he comes home to his apartment some days during residency and just cries for hours until his phone rings and he has to go back. but he turns out to be exceptional at it, and he turns out to be a phenomenal teacher to all the residents who come after him. kids adore him because he talks to them like regular people, he teaches them about the medicine and space and moths and Star Wars and any other interests they have, and parents love him because he’s the best there is at ensuring that their kid wakes up safe and sound.

feuilly is a social worker, specializing in children, families, and schools. he takes special care in following up on all of his cases, and he always finds the perfect family for a child to stay with. he takes on a lot of pro bono cases—god knows he can afford it with all the random jobs he takes on the weekends. he has an eery sixth sense for knowing when a fit is right or wrong, but he never closes a case unless he’s certain he leaves a family more whole than when he met them.

bahorel tried law school, he really did, but his passion laid elsewhere. as soon as he dropped out, he convinced his family to help him open a youth arts center where he devotes his time helping kids of all ages advance their skills in drawing, painting, acting, singing, dancing, all of it. the kids he sees come and go often tell him they owe their successes to him, and he cries and hangs up copies of their graduation pictures or stage productions on the wall of his office.

joly gets his medical degree and promptly decides to open up a free clinic. he raises awareness for chronic illnesses and specializes in treatments for amputees, he starts a foundation that is constantly raising money, proceeds going to his clinic so that he can continue treating people but also going to research because medicine is about progressing. he doesn’t necessarily want to be the one to do the research, he chose to work as a doctor in a clinic for a reason, but he knows it’s important.

bossuet becomes a therapist. he’s hand rounds and bouts of bad luck but it’s left him with lots of advice and lots of empathy to give. he makes sure to let each of his clients know that their choosing to come must be on their own times and he takes special care getting to know each and every individual one of them. sometimes when their eyes go tight at the mention of money, bossuet will wave them out the door at the end of the session laughing about how the credit card machine is broken, isn’t that silly, it’s just his luck—and his patients come back the next time extra grateful for him.

jehan is a writer; but the kick is they write under a pseudonym and only a few people in the world actually know. when they finished their first official work, the fame wasn’t as important as the message seemed, so they searched for a publisher who would support the pseudonym and has only told a few people outside of that what they actually do for a living. the rest of les amis assume they just work odd jobs whenever they feel like it. but jehan writes, and sells a lot of copies, and they love it endlessly.

marius is a professor of linguistics at a university. he knows so many languages and is so fiercely passionate about the way language is structured and formed and evolving—his classes almost always fill up first, and have waitlists that are pages long. the students love how interesting he finds words, many of them are entranced by the way he always sees the world through rose-colored glasses, and a lot of them are there to giggle at the way he blushes and stutters just so when someone compliments him in any way.

cosette gives music lessons out of her house. there’s literally not an instrument she can’t pick up and have mastered in five minutes, so she teaches it all. piano, guitar, harp, accordion, a didgeridoo one time, a cello, a trumpet once, singing, even dancing. she just cares about music and wants to give everyone the chance to learn. her youngest student is four years old and her oldest is eighty three, and alongside teaching them musical theory she shows them how to use music to always see joy in the world.

éponine models for a while, before she finds her groove more comfortably in designing clothes. she gets a lucky break when a successful model catches sight of one of her designs, and begs her to let him wear it on the next catwalk. when she isn’t designing clothes, she’s helping r out at the school and teaching new techniques to the elementary kids who hang off of every word she says. she’s always dressed to the nines, but unbeknownst to the majority of the fashion industry is the way she spends her free time making clothing to give to people who can’t afford it. she donates a lot of her creations to homeless shelters, and often enlists gavroche to help her find places to give out clothes.

musichetta owns a restaurant chain. it started off as just a small café hidden behind the streets of paris but got really popular for its delicious sandwiches and atmosphere. her shops are social media famous, and many people visit her now just to take aesthetic pictures of the shop and order a panini and a coffee to go. she beams with pride and her creation but still works at the original, wiping counters and greeting guests and, even occasionally, taking pictures when asked.

bonus;gavroche wants to be just like his sister when he grows up. his style in clothes is a lot different from her edgy chic vintage, but he loves how much she loves it and finds his own ways to make his clothing unique and fun.

#les amis #les mis #les miserables #headcanons #this got wildly out of control and i cried at least twice bc of how soft i am for my boys so #anyway #remy rambles #asks #anon

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danielphantamiel · 6 years

Text

Chapter 1

3 Avengers sat at the head of the meeting table, hunched together and discussing something of high importance. “Does he even have another identity? I’ve never heard Bats call him something else.” The Flash said, looking around as if the man in question would suddenly appear. “Same here. And Bruce is the one who picked him up off the street and got him to join. Does that mean even Bruce hasn’t seen his secret identity?” Captain America mumbled. “Isn’t he a ghost? It’s kind of hard to have a secret identity when it died.” Wonder Woman said and leaned back in her chair. Steve sighed “that’s true. So we even know how old he was when he died?” He asked, looking over to Barry, the closest friend out of the three. Barry shrugged and cast a glance over to Diana. “He probably doesn’t remember having a human form, if he even did. Ghost lose their memories over time and he might be dead for a while.” Barry explained. Diana sighed. “But he looks so young. And if he has been dead for a while, why did we just now find him? And what was he doing before this?” She asked. It did beg the question of Phantom’s origins. There was a short silence, broken by Barry, who could not take short silences. “How old does he even look? He seems ageless but also very young at the same time.” Barry said. “I don’t know. Maybe 24? 25? Younger than me is all I can say.” Steve said. “You’re 100.” Diana flatlined with a small smirk. “That’s the only solid fact we have about him though. He’s younger than me.” Steve stated with a grin. Barry gave a little chuckle. “But seriously. My bet it 27. Anyone else willing to bet?” He said and pulled out a 20 from god knows where. Steve smiled. “29,” He said and slapped a bill on the table. They both looked over to Diana. She sighed and smiled. “28. But I’ll keep the money to make sure you two don’t cheat.” She said and snatched the bills from the table. “Are we gonna have an open betting pool?” Barry asked. Steve shrugged. “It wouldn’t be my fault if someone were to find out about our little bet.” Diana stood. “Just send them to me if a little mistake is made. I’m still the keeper.” She said and strode away. Barry and Steve smiled at each other. This could be interesting.

A few weeks later, most of the league had bets on Phantom’s age. There were even smaller betting pools on what his day job was and if he had a girlfriend. Batman was still not aware that silent bets were being made about Phantom and carried on his business. No one seemed to notice that Phantom had been gone for a couple of weeks. No one besides Diana, Steve and Barry. “Where did the kid go? I swear he was just here yesterday!” Barry said. “He hasn’t been here in weeks Barry, what’s your sense of time like?” Steve asked. “Too fast.” Barry grinned. “Both of you. Focus. We need to go talk to Bruce because if anyone knows where he is, it’s Bruce.” She said. The two nodded and set off to find him. Bruce happened to be sitting in the lab, surrounded by computer screens and energy drinks. This was a shock to them all because none of them had seen him look this disheveled or tired. “Bruce?” Diana whispered and Bruce jumped. It looked like he hadn’t been disturbed in hours. “Sorry, you startled me. What’s going on?” He asked, subtly cleaning up the place and moving the windows on his screen. “Nothing much what’s going on with you? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!” Barry said and Bruce looked away, as to not make eye contact. He coughed. “What’s going on Bruce. Or do I have to use the lasso to get it out of you?” Diana asked. Bruce coughed again. “He’s gone. I can’t find him.” He mumbled. “Who?” Diana asked, kneeling down to meet his level on the floor. “Phantom. He’s gone. He’s no where. It’s like he disappeared.” Bruce said, his eyes finally calming down enough to focus on something other than a screen. “How long has he been gone?” Diana asked. “I don’t know. The last I saw him was 3 weeks ago. After he didn’t show up here for a week I started to look. He’s been no where for a week, which is when I put the machines to work. He’s gone.” He said and slumped over. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, we’ll find him. Barry, get him to a bed.” Diana said. “No! I can’t stop now!” Bruce said, using a lot of his energy to move quickly and regretting it. “When was the last time you slept, Bruce.” Diana asked. He slumped back onto the wall. “A week? It doesn’t matter.” He said and tried to stand. Barry rushed over and helped him up. “You’re going to bed. We’ll go find him. Where do you think he is?” Diana asked. “Check his hometown. You’ll find it on the map I have pulled up.” He sighed, giving up, “Alfred will get you tracking devices that will help you find him. Please bring him back safely.” Bruce said and allowed himself to be carried over to a bed. Diana looked at the map on the screen and sent the coordinates to Alfred. All three of them rushed out of the room after making sure Bruce was comfortable. “Make sure he gets food and such when he wakes up. You should probably get him to the medical room because we don’t know his stability.” Diana said to Superman. He nodded and the three left for the Bat Cave.

They got to the Bat Cave and found Alfred standing between a car and a plethora of tracking devices on a table. “I’ve narrowed down his location to two buildings, all you have to do is stick the tracking device to to the ground around the building and it should be able to pick up his signal. Flash, I’m assuming you’ll run but if you don’t want to there’s enough room in the car for you. It doesn’t go as fast as you can though. It should take you an hour to get there if you drive the recommended speed limit but I can always rework it to make it faster.” He said as the hero’s were picking up their devices. “Rework it.” Steve said. Alfred nodded and all three jumped into the car. Flash started the car and veered out of the Bat Cave. “Do you know how to drive without killing us?” Steve asked, gripping the safety handle. “Sure if we want to get there in 3 days. Lemme do what I gotta and we’ll be there quick.” He said, taking the winding back roads and speeding at 150 miles an hour. “Just don’t make me vomit.” Steve said, knuckles turning white from gripping the bar. Barry sighed. “I’ll do my best. What’s the plan when we get there anyway? Plant the devices on the ground and wait?” He asked. “Basically. Watch that turn there.” Steve said as they sped on through the turn. “I’m going to die in this damn car.” Steve said and gripped the armrest. Diana giggled from the back seat.

They got to Phantoms hometown after 30 minutes of extreme speeding and Steve silently fearing for his life. The trio found the buildings they were looking for and looked up to the building and read the name. “G.I.W? What does that stand for?” Barry asked. Diana placed her device on the ground and it lit up and made a beeping noise. “Guess he’s here. We shouldn’t just barge in though, in case they have him bound and such. We should wait until later. Night maybe.” Barry said. “What if he needs us now? What if he’s close to death?” Diana said. She didn’t wait before busting down the front door and rushing down the set of stairs. Both of the boys looked at each other before following her down the building. They all met upon a gruesome sight with Phantom laying on a table and two men in white with scalpels and a man and women with clipboards and prongs. The table was angled so the trio couldn’t see all of Phantom. Phantom was strapped down with metal handcuffs with green sparks coming off of them. Phantom was well awake and terrified. “What are you d-“ one of the scientists started when he was hit in the head with Captain America’s shield. The other three were gathered by Diana and tied up by Barry. “Who are you?” Diana yelled. Barry had never seen her this angry. “The Guys In White and the Fenton’s!” The one in white said back. “What is your purpose with Phantom?” She asked. “To dissect him and study his anatomy. He is a very interesting creature. We want see how he works.” The women said. “Why do you do this as torture? Why keep him awake?” Diana asked with more anger in her face than ever. “Because he isn’t human so it doesn’t matter. Also he cant feel pain though he does scream quite a lot whenever we start a procedure. We don’t know why yet so we just keep him awake for study.” The women said again. “We don’t care about him. All we care about is science. He’s just a pawn.” The larger man said. Barry walked over to Diana. “I found sedatives to knock them out. Would you like me too?” He asked. “Do it.” She said and turned around. Barry sedated all three and gathered her cord. Steve had managed to get Phantom out of his shackles and sit him up. Phantom stared down at the floor, shivering. “Phantom. We need to get you to the Bat Cave.” Diana said. Danny tried to stand but fell back against the table. Barry rushed to his side and grabbed him underneath his arm. Danny jumped back and stumbled away backing up against the wall. “Don’t move as quickly. You’ll scare him.” Steve said. Diana slowly approached him with her hand out. “Phantom, we need you to come with us so Bruce can help you. Please?” She asked kneeling down. Phantom looked at her and slowly moved closer to her. After a tantalizingly long moment he grabbed her hand. She slowly rose, as to not scare him and lead him up to the car with Barry and Steve following. Barry and Steve seemed to mentally connect with a discussion about what happened to Phantom. Questions whirled through their minds as they got up to the car, with Diana and Phantom taking the back. “I’ll drive,” Steve said, “don’t want to move to fast.” Barry tossed him the keys and got into the passenger seat. Steve started the car as Diana comforted Phantom. It was probably the quietest car ride ever.

They got back to the Bat Cave and found a very wobbly Bruce waiting for them, much to Alfred’s distaste it seemed. The car stopped and Phantom jumped out of the car and bolted to Bruce. Suddenly they both were on the ground and Phantom seemed to be crying. Bruce was whispering comforts to Phantom and slowly sitting up. He stood and helped him up, with the help of Alfred and Barry. “You need to show me what they did. I have to make sure they didn’t infect you.” Bruce was saying. Phantom shook his head and tried to back away from Bruce. He held Phantom tighter and continued to try and coax him out of his state. Phantom kept shaking his head and hurried his face further into Bruce’s shoulder. “We won’t judge you. We promise.” Diana spoke up. Phantom sighed, sensing his defeat. He pulled up his elastic shirt as best he could. Bruce’s eyes widened slightly and Barry had to stop a gasp from escaping him. There were old scars, new scars. Old wounds, new wounds. Bruce looked at Phantom with sadness in his face. “How old are the other ones?” He asked. “Most of them are from when I gust started fighting” he said and dropped his shirt, making sure it covered him well. “How long ago was that?” Barry asked. “3 years ago.” Phantom said and quietly fell to the floor.

More to come probably. It will be less angsty I promise

@bluebellball

P.S this is my DP side blog

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loversandantiheroes · 7 years

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Jigsaw - A Whouffaldi Fic - Part 5

Author’s Note: This is the most plot-heavy thing I’ve ever done for a fic. I hope like hell I’ve done it justice.

Summary: Because some pieces can’t be kept apart forever. Post- Hell Bent reunion fic. Part five.

Rating: T

Warnings: A lot of talking heads, Runaway sci-fi jargon, Ohila being Queen of the Smug.

Word Count: 3262

AO3 Link: here

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

The hatch hisses to a close. There’s a soft whine as the engines power back up, the ship wobbling as it lifts into the air just enough to make Clara sway on her feet, but no more. Me has already found one of the webbed seats in the lower hold and buckled herself in, nose patiently in the copy of The Hybrid she had plucked from Ohila’s fingers, pages fluttering by as she sets to work. Clara can only pace, jaw working nervously. The absence of her heartbeat is deafeningly loud. It ought to be in her throat, beating hard enough to rattle her teeth. Instead it sits in stubborn silence, patient and still. Her throat has a wicked lump in it all the same, tightness creeping up her back and around her ribs, constricting.

The General ducks away from her immediately, rushing up into the cockpit to speak to the pilot, leaving only Ohila in the hold. That knowing smile is creeping back across the woman’s face, mild eyes regarding her intently.

“How long?” She tilts her head questioningly. “You’re twenty-four years late by my estimations, but I deeply doubt it’s been the same for you.”

“No. No that is not how we start. Not after that, after what that little girl.... There is no way she should’ve known those words.”

“I think it might be relevant.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think,” Clara bit back.

Ohila smiled wider. “A position that is likely to change before very much longer, I suspect. But as you like it. Where would you rather we start?”

“Have a guess.” She cocks her head so sharply at the book in Me’s hands she hears her neck crackle. “Where’d it come from? Who wrote it? How the hell did they know so much? Were you lot spying on us the whole bloody time?”

“It is not the work of the Sisterhood of Karn, if that is what you are suggesting. And to the best of my knowledge, no, the Council made no attempt to spy on you or the Doctor, their position was far too precarious for something so overt.”

“Then how?”

“I don’t know. Not for certain. I have my suspicions, of course.”

“Then speak,” Clara hisses through gritted teeth.

Another long, assessing look. “Four possibilities. One: the information was pulled directly from the two of you while you were in the cloisters. Trauma is a great amplifier of psychic projection. It is possible the parts you two were shouting at the top of your minds about were accidentally filed by the Matrix.

“Two: the Doctor’s confession dial. A confession dial is meant to house a Time Lord’s consciousness, to purify it before it can be uploaded to the Matrix. Given the sheer amount of time the Doctor spent within the dial, I consider it likely enough that there was a great deal of data stored within.”

Coldness creeps up Clara’s back and belly. How the hell were these people so empty? They’re like ice, she thought. Thin shells of ice shaped like people, wind whistling through the hollow places where something like humanity should’ve dwelt.

If Ohila sees the derision in Clara’s eyes, she makes no sign. “Three,” she continues with a nod. “Both. The Doctor’s confession dial was uploaded to the Matrix, and the data pulled from the two of you while you were in the Cloisters filled in the gaps. Given the completion of the final product, provided it is not in fact grossly inflated by someone else, I’d imagine this is the most likely.”

Clara blinks. “You’ve read it, haven’t you?”

Ohila doesn’t answer, but the set of her mouth says enough. “Four,” she carries on, “unlikely but just possibly: it’s a fake.”

“It isn’t,” Me says flatly. Her eyes flick up over the edge of the book. Me has broken more than one world’s record for speed-reading in multiple languages, and she’s already passed the halfway mark. “I’ve some experience piecing together personal history through text,” she says to Ohila. “If I were a betting woman, and I have been a few times, I’d wager good money this is legitimate.” Then, to Clara, “The account of my village,” she flicks back, shows Clara the page. “False Odin. The Mire. My name. My death. It’s all here.”

“Alright, so me and the Doctor we get filed. And after that? You lot don’t seem that likely to get nostalgic and publish an old Time Lord’s tell-all memoirs. That’s too sentimental. You’ve no use for-” for love stories, she thinks, but says instead, “for fairytales. How did the story get out?”

Ohila shakes her head, the red veil shuddering. “That, we don’t know. The story seemed to travel by word of mouth for a little while. The book came after. You’ll have to forgive my presumption, I assumed you knew.”

The laughter shakes out of her before she can stop it. “You thought we planned this!”

“He was half mad when he returned, Miss Oswald.” There is an edge to her voice, but it is old and dulled. Anger worn down to a nub of disappointment. “He broke every code he’d sworn himself to with the singular purpose of saving someone who could not be saved. Tell me, when, after the two of you ran away, after the Doctor drove Rassilon from the planet and set the High Council to work in the sewers, when the people then suddenly began singing songs of The Doctor and his Impossible Girl and how they whisked Gallifrey off to safety, and when those same people formed a blockade around the woman he would’ve let the universe burn for, who would you have thought responsible?”

Any protest she might have had immediately dies on her lips. That, she has to concede, sounds exactly like the Doctor.

“Look at them,” Ohila wave a hand at the narrow window in the rear hatch.

Clara peers out at the wastes as they recede in distance and shadow, the last light fading. She can only just see the crowd, a wide smudge of crimson slowly turning violet, faces like moons staring after her, arms raised.

“Are they...they’re following us.”

“They’re following you,” the old woman corrects with a tut. “Swept up in stories. Twenty-four years is a stitch on Gallifrey, but it is enough time for a story to find an ear and take root. Time Lords, the high-born especially, don’t care for fairytales by default, you have that right. They bred that out of the stock with looms and genocide centuries ago. The Doctor has always been something of an anomaly. An accidental hero, here and everywhere. An idiot with a code that even his own people don’t understand. And then the people that stood in awe of him found he broke that code for the sake of you.”

“Leave it to him to break through the eons to go home and start a book club. Idiot.”

For the first time, a look of fondness flits across the older woman’s face. “He is that. And even now he makes you smile.”

Clara’s hand flies to her mouth, finds the corners curved up, lips pressed tight and trembling. The thought of him left an ache deep in her chest, something like shrapnel in a long-healed wound.

“Tell me,” Ohila says, lips pursed in thought, staring out at the dim purple expanse outside the hatch. “Is it true?”

Clara blinks. “Is what true?”

“That you were here on Gallifrey on the last day of the Time War. That the Doctor, the one my sisterhood rescued on Karn and begged to intervene at last in a war that threatened every stitch of existence, was going to cut the still-beating heart out of the war to end it once and for all. And that it was you who stayed his hand. Look at them, trailing after you. They revere you, Miss Oswald, give them another ten years and they’ll have shrines in your honor, if they haven’t already. They think you saved their lives. I need to know: is that true?”

She nods, a cold weight like a stone in her belly. “Yes. He thought it was the only option. Destroy Gallifrey and the Dalek fleet all at once. The weapon, the Moment, it pulled two of his future selves in to show him the consequences. It was all in the past for him, my...the Doctor when I knew him. But the Moment it showed us the last battle. The fall of Arcadia. So many dead and dying. And so many still alive and terrified. People that would’ve…”

There is a flash behind her eyelids when she blinks. Distortion grenades. Dalek fire. An echo of screams she couldn’t hear, not even then. She winces, shaking her head. “Never cruel or cowardly. That was what he said. That was his promise. I just reminded him to hold to it.”

The old woman nods, eyes skimming the horizon. She is thinking so loudly Clara almost fancies she can hear the squeak and whirr of gear wheels turning.

Finally, Ohila lays a hand on Clara’s arm, her grip alarmingly strong. “How long?” she says in a whisper, and that more than the bruising force of her fingers on her elbow makes Clara shudder. She opens her mouth, an easy lie on the tip of her tongue without thinking, and Ohila’s grip tightens. “Resist your first impulse; do not lie. Do not think me a fool. You and he are cut from the same cloth, Miss Oswald, I have no doubt in my mind that you have run as far and as fast as you could for as long as you could. But I need to know how long.”

Clara licks her lips. Her mouth is so dry she’s unsure she can speak. Her lungs absolutely refuse to pull in the air she needs to make a sound. “I’m not sure precisely,” she croaks. “Twelve hundred years, I think, give or take a century.”

Ohila’s eyes blaze, not with anger but, triumph? Clara rocks back on her heels as the old woman gives her arm one last squeeze and then releases her.

“We should be at the Capitol shortly,” the General says, climbing the stairs down to the hold. “The extraction chamber is being prepared.”

“I’d suggest getting back on the com, General,” Ohila replies, smiling. “Tell them to expect us in Medical first.”

* * *

“Oh,” is all Me can say.

“That can’t be right,” the General breathes. “That is impossible.”

Clara hears the unmistakable sound of a display being smacked repeatedly. One of the medics, a small, mousy woman squeaks, followed by an awkward sound of shuffling as the General is ushered away from the equipment. “It’s functioning properly, ma’am I assure you.”

Clara stares up at the ceiling where what looks like the universe’s smallest laser light show still draws patterns over her body. Me is too far away, but she can see Ohila, her hands folded patiently in front of her, smiling raptly. Two more of the Sisterhood stand at her side, younger women, at least by appearances, still and silent as statues, robed and veiled in red.

“What is it? Is something wrong with me?”

“If, if these readings are correct… Miss Oswald by all rights you should be dead.”

“Fascinating,” Ohila says. Then, to Clara, “You can get up now, I should think you’ll want to see this.”

The readout is a bit different than what she’s grown used to in her own TARDIS. Newer, she expects, a Type-40 TARDIS was a museum piece back when the Doctor had stolen his, let alone now. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take a total screaming genius (even if she is one) to deduce that whatever that golden static is swirling around her body scan, it must not be good.

“Ok that’s...that’s in me. What is that?” She pushes past the gawking General and stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Me, whose mouth is hanging open just a fraction.

“Oh Clara this has been a day,” she says. The perpetual Viking is nearly laughing. “This is incredible.”

She squints, frowns. “Is that...that’s vortex energy?”

Me taps the screen. “And artron energy. And huon particles.”

“I’m afraid so,” the General mutters apologetically. “This combination in these amounts, it should be killing you. Your only saving grace is your suspended status and a fixed death. How in God’s name have you absorbed so much?”

Clara bit the inside of her cheeks. “I’ve...travelled a bit between now and then.” She flashes what she hopes is one of her more winning smiles. “Suspended status, fixed death, and a time machine. I figured I had a bit of wiggle room.”

Clara watches the General’s eyes widen, ticking back and forth from her to the displays and back again. “How much ‘wiggle room’ did you take?”

“Twelve hundred years,” Ohila offers brightly. “Give or take a century.”

Me traces a finger over the screen. “The Artron energy’s just from the time travel itself, any time traveller picks that up. These two, though, your body should’ve metabolised any traces of these you picked up.”

“It would have,” Clara says, nodding dumbly. “If I wasn’t frozen. Should’ve guessed that’d have an effect. It’s been building up this whole time, a thousand years of energy condensed into one protracted moment.”

“It’s inert, I think,” Me offered, “otherwise you would’ve either exploded or turned into a demi-god, whichever one came first. You were exposed to the Doctor’s time stream once and lived. I don’t know, it might’ve acted like an inoculation, given you a degree of immunity to the effects. Must be why it never showed up on our own scanner, but….oh.”

The immortal goes quiet. Behind her, the General is pacing, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Ok, something’s bad. What is it? I mean condolences are hardly a concern at this stage. This is like trying to tell me I’ve got cancer before you throw me in front of a train. So what’s the problem? Are they gonna have to bury me in a lead-lined coffin so I don’t give everyone in Blackpool a time head?”

Me wheels abruptly on Ohila. “The book,” she says, flapping a hand.

The old woman hands it over immediately. She is, Clara is fairly certain, grinning even wider now.

Me flips through the pages wildly. Finds the page. “Hang on, where is it? Ah, here! ‘Time travel is damage. It’s like a tear in the fabric of reality. That,’ the Doctor said, nodding at the tangle of blue-white energy, ‘is the scar tissue of my journey through the universe. My path through time and space from Gallifrey to Trenzalore. My own personal time tunnel.’”

The General swears under her breath.

“Catching on, are we?” Ohila says.

“Fuck.” Clara leans over the console, shoulders hunched. “I’ll leave the same, won’t I? Twelve-hundred years of time travel and I’m going to leave the same kind of scar on Trap Street. God I am stupid! ”

“Worse, I think,” Me says softly. Her fingers work quickly on the console, symbols turning and shifting rapidly. “Because I think the quantum shade might just be enough to…”

The golden static on the displays turns a dark red. Warnings flash. Warning: Catalyst detected. Energy balance unstable. Approaching critical mass. Temporal explosion imminent.

“To do that.”

“An explosion that powerful,” Ohila says patiently, not to Clara, but to the General, “at the moment of her death, would tear that wound wide open.”

“It’s enough to pull the whole of London in,” Clara whispers, horrified.

“And Trap Street with it.” Something very close to panic in the back of the immortal’s eyes.

“A harbor for interplanetary asylum-seekers,” Ohila says, voice sharp and grim as a needle. “A place of tenuous peace at best, a peace you were only able to keep with judicious application of a quantum shade. Think of it, General. Sontarons. Zygons. Scovax. Cybermen. Daleks. All of them falling into Clara Oswald’s time stream. A time stream that is irrevocably tied to the Doctor and to Gallifrey. The Time War will begin again and it will reach farther than ever before.”

“Her death is fixed!” the General cries, a tremor of fear in her voice, eyes wide and overbright against her dark skin. Part of Clara is alarmed to see the veneer on the Time Lord crack. Another, deeper, part of her is grimly pleased to see it. “What would you have me do? The Web of Time could unravel! She must go back!”

“And if we send her back to die we all but hand over the ability to undo Gallifrey’s salvation. You would be placing the threads of the universe in the hands of some of your most hated enemies.”

“And she is standing right here and you can damn well start talking to her,” Clara growls through gritted teeth. She runs a shaking hand through her hair and laughs, the sound shrill and barking and bitter. “You lot, fat lot of fucking good you are. You tell me I can’t keep running because maybe I’ll destroy the universe, now you tell me I can’t die because maybe Gallifrey falls all over again. Loving these options.”

A minute nod to the other Sisters. They nod, bow, and glide silently from the room. Slowly, Ohila says, “There is a third option.”

“So start talking,” Clara says. “Make it good and make it fast, or I swear I will run, and the widest net in the universe will not be able to catch me again.”

“Don’t die.”

Clara sputters, half-laughing. “Oh. Of course. How stupid of me. Why didn’t I think of that? Just don’t die! It’s so simple!” Her volume rises rapidly, the panic in the room finally catching hold, finding fuel, spreading. Caught I’m caught I’m caught -

The old woman takes her wrists, holds them firm even as Clara recoils from the touch. “You are human, Miss Oswald. Simple, mortal, human. Death is your only birthright. But death, for a Time Lord, is little more than a temporary inconvenience. Don’t die; regenerate.”

Clara can only stare, mouth agape. “I’m no Time Lord!”

A smile, patient and almost kind. “No. Not yet, Miss Oswald. But you might yet be. The Time Lords became what they are from exposure to the Time Vortex, from the same energy that has suffused your every cell. You are a powder keg, but what if you could control the burn? What if that energy was turned to your advantage?”

“You cannot be serious,” the General looks aghast.

“Would you rather the alternative?” Ohila shoots back. “This is the best chance I can offer. For the sake of Gallifrey. My sisterhood is charged with guarding the elixir of life. We have used it to facilitate a regeneration in the Doctor once as he lay dying. I believe with the right adjustment, it could be used to catalyse the energy in you.”

“We have no precedent for this, her biology may not be compatible for such a change.”

“There is precedent enough,” Me says, her eyes glittering. “River Song. Different method, same result. Part human, part Time Lord.”

“Have you another option you can offer her, General?” Ohila asks, voice venom-sweet. “I would dearly love to hear it.”

The General turns away, scowling.

“In that case, I think you should follow me, Miss Oswald.” She spares a glance over her shoulder as she sweeps out of the room. “Be sure the extraction chamber is ready. This will not take long.”

#whouffaldi #twelve x clara #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #good god I hope this lives up to the ridiculous build up #*hides under a couch cushion*

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stone-man-warrior · 5 years

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November 2, 2018: 2:53 pm:

November 2, 2018: 1:56 pm:<br><br>I am the last remaining US American Citizen... StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-11-02T17:53:30-0400 - Updated: 2018-11-02T17:53:30-0400

November 2, 2018: 1:56 pm: I am the last remaining US American Citizen in Josephine County Oregon. All of the other American Citizens have been killed. That Victims are dead, or being held in captivity, and forced to perform tasks for their captors. The American Victims names are still being used as if the Victims are alive and well, but most are not alive, and none are well. The terrorists are an army. They are arranged by rank. They are not a conventional army, and are nearly impossible to identify as a terrorist army. The terrorist army occupies the Counties of Josephine, Jackson, Douglas, and Klamath having entirely consumed those counties. The State of Oregon, in it's entirety is presumed to be in the same condition, however, my travels are limited to the counties mentioned. I do have information from traveling North and South years ago that supports the notion that the attack was well under way at those times that I did travel. I know for a fact that is indisputable that the four counties mentioned are in complete control of terrorist army's and are no longer a part of the USA, they only appear as though they remain part of the USA. The terrorists are mostly of two distinguishable varieties, they are Screen Actor Guild, and other sub-unions of the guild that includes entertainers and media personalities of all disciplines. They are the leadership. The SAG provides commands, supplies, funding and necessary resources for the other variety of terrorists who are the soldiers who do the killing. Those soldiers use the cover of the Seventh Day Adventist church, and deceptive appearance of innocence and non-threatening outward behavior. The innocent appearance is the same as camouflage, it works better than any other kind of camouflage. The cities and towns in the counties mentioned look as though they operate in a normal way, the reality is that these terrorists have trained for this kind of urban, social warfare such that the entire city is a war zone that looks like a thriving city. They trained for this, then carried out the plan, and it works. Now, there are no more US American Citizens. The American Citizens who found out about teh takeover, tried to call for help to 911, only to find that the 911 emergency phone service as well as the State, City, and County law enforcement had been taken over first, and callers to 911 emergency for help, were killed by assassins sent by the 911 terrorist controlled 911 phone operator. The assassins are often dressed in real, official police cars and dressed in real official uniforms tha t once belonged to a real police officer. The FBI in Oregon has also been taken over. There is no way to get help on the phone, or on the internet. The internet usage has also been taken over. The use of Nitrous Oxide mixed with Versed airborne gas has facilitated this takeover. The gas is deadly dangerous for the entire planet. I am the last American in Josephine County, and as such, I am under attack daily. Every day for the past five years, some group of assassins has come to my home to try and kill me. They use the Nitrous Oxide/Versed gas, blow the gas into my home with specially made apparatus that fits in the corner of the front door and forces the gas around the weather stripping and into the house. They use the "weep holes" at the bottom of the windows to put a small hose there and blow gas into my home. They climb one the roof, and blow the gas into the chimney, and into the living room through the wood stove from outside. They do this in groups of people, terrorists all around the house simultaneously blowing gas into my home from a number of the windows and the front door. I defend with a lighter to ignite the gas, and that has kept me alive. When they do enter my home as they have been successful many times this past week, they bring swords with them, and I have to fight terrorists with swords inside my house while I am exposed to the gas. The terrorists are also exposing themselves to the gas, so that works in my favor. There is always someone outside, away from exposure to the gas, who stays in radio contact with the terrorists who have entered my home, thereby directing them, and keeping them alert while being exposed to their own gas. Today, the attack is subtle so far. The terrorists assassinated with an attack from 598 "MyStreet" did a drive-by to identify what I look like. Someone was waiting on Russel road at the house next to mine for me to come outside, they watch my door constantly. When I did come outside for a walk, and to get my mail, the terrorist spotter on Russel began to make noise signals that instruct the terrorist assassins associated with 598 to begin to drive past me, knowing that I go check my mail everyday. The terrorist assassins associated with 598 were staged and ready to get into a car and drive to "MyStreet" upon hearing the audible signal. The terrorist assassins are people who look non-threatening and drive a nice car that is suitable for family use, it's part of the training and part of the cover for the assassins to have perfectly suitable and non-threatening looking cars and trucks. Today, a brown, late model Chevrolet with driver and passenger drove past me while I was walking back from my mailbox on teh road. The passenger was blonde, mid twenties, female with black horn rimmed glasses on. I could not see the driver through the reflections on the glass and the vehicle and passenger were not regular people that live on "MyStreet". They are actor soldiers, they came to kill, and they have others with them that are yet unseen. The terrorist cell at 598 is called "Medical Democrats". Not because they are democrats, but because they are part of "Club-Med" variety of terrorists who serve the needs of SAG. "Medical Democrat" terrorist Club-Med operatives are involved in all things medical associated with terrorism, One thing that Medical Democrat, Club-Med sub-cells do, is track down and kill "Medicare Part-D" recipients. The victims are killed, and the medications are perpetuated after the victim has been killed. The medical records of Medicare Part-D patients are also useful to provide that new prescriptions can be obtained based on the conditions that are already documented. A replacement impostor from Screen Actor Guild portrays the deceased patient in mocked up doctor appointments and checkups at medical facilities that have been taken over by the terrorists. It's an elaborate scheme that works because it provides a paper trail to the prescriptions that are consumed by the members of the Screen Actor Guild. In this way, they don't get caught, they advance the terrorism by killing and replacing American Victims with impostors, they obtain the drugs that the Screen Actor Guild desires, and they take the Social Security Income that belongs to the Medicare Part-D recipient and re-route that income to terrorists for the purpose of further advancing the terrorism. No one will help. I get attacked every day. I make a report here about the terrorism everyday. People come and read what I write here, they understand that I cannot reach help with a phone or the internet, and that I am begging for help with these entries, yet, no one will make a phone call to the Department of Defense and ask them to read this page. Why will no one make a phone call to national Security people and direct them to this page?

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+1'd by: william

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-11-02T21:26:18-0400

November 2, 2018: 5:58 pm: I just returned from shopping in Socio-terrific Dystopian Grants Pass Oregon where murders happen fast and unnoticed while American Citizens purchase fuel, groceries, and whatever they need to survive, or, simply the things they desire. Terrorist foggers burst and launched away at the AM/PM convenience store and gas station near the Wal-Mart. Foggers releasing Nitrous Oxide/Versed airborne gas were ignited and presumable died as a result. The Nitrous Oxide/Versed airborne gas tanks are rectally holstered, allowing the terrorists to conceal the gas while also allowing hands free for other activities. At the Fred Meyer gas station I was shot with a 0.25 caliber, very tiny, two shot, custom made gun as I got out of my car. The bullet bounced off of me and rolled away. The fake attendant, who in reality lives at the Corner of Russel Road and "MtStreet", is a Seventh Day Adventist terrorist soldier who has a very large marijuana grow site of more than one hundred BIG marijuana plants. The plants would not be an issue for me, or anyone, if they were not used to fund terrorism. The Seventh Day Adventist soldier marijuana growers, like all of the Seventh Day Adventist soldiers, are extremely loyal to their religious ways and do not consume the marijuana that they grow. They sell the marijuana for profit to Screen Actor Guild members and rock stars. The money they generate is used to fund terrorism, and used to find new ways to kill US American Citizens and replace those Victims with terrorist soldiers who assume the identity of the Victims with the aid of the impostor State Police. The fake gas station attendant, SDA terrorist marijuana assassin who shot me at the gas pump as I got out of my car, suffered a severe neck wound as a result of the encounter. I was told at the Wal-Mart later on that the assassin died of his wounds. At the Wal-Mart Terrorists in the store were ignited while releasing Nitrous Oxide/Versed airborne gas inside the store while pretending to be Wal-mart customers shopping. They go about the business of pushing a shopping cart through the isles of the store while releasing the gas when they are instructed that an American Citizen has entered the store. Today, about half of the people in the Wal-Mart had disabled people with them.There were terrorist handlers, and their were the disabled people such as the elderly, and mostly, today, the disabled people were those who have birth defects and developmental conditions such as cerebral palsy, Alzheimer's, and down syndrome types of conditions. It is not unusual to see terrorist handlers of disabled people at the Grants Pass Wal-Mart, but today, there were more than I have ever seen at one time. The terrorist handlers use the disabled victims for a variety of uses that include that these patients will often have many names that they must remember, then the terrorist handlers are able to take these victims around to different, participating Club-Med doctors and get a variety of prescription pain medicine for the consumption of rock stars and movie stars. The disabled people use their list of names they must remember because they are forced into behaving, and they do not get their own prescriptions, and are considered as disposable people. Club-Med: Where American disabled people suffer, so that rock stars can take their pills, and then another. No one will help stop the madness.

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-11-02T21:34:38-0400 - Updated: 2018-11-02T21:35:48-0400

November 2, 2018: 6:27 pm: One such disabled victim of the conditions described above is believed to be handled and held captive by someone who drives a late model grey colored SUV with the words "4 Matic" on the rear right side of the trunk lid. and the license plate, Oregon "EAT PIZZA" However, the "EAT PIZZA" is abbreviated, and unfortunately I do not know the abbreviation. EAT PZZA or EAT PIZA or some other way of writing that on a vanity license plate. The license plate frame around it said the words "Tennis is my racket" The victim is a man, about thirty years old, dark hair, possibly of Hispanic decent, and has what appears to be a mild case of cerebral palsy, if there is such a thing as a mild case.

william - 2018-11-03T20:18:35-0400Wow yo, i believe you

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zebraslovescupcakestoo · 4 years

Text

The Guardian Contract

Warning: This is super long...

I was watching from afar... Well, from the door but just to pop my head enough to see him in that autopsy room.

What's going on and who do I spy with my golden colored eyes? Here's a brief story.

I have met this new coroner at my latest BBQ party a few weeks ago by some friends of mine. His name was Matteo DeLuca. He was a very interesting guy for one thing.

He had long, curly or wavy, dark brown hair, he was tanned, average height, looks like a prince, wears a lot of royal blue and it looked like he wears first class Italian profession whenever I see him outside of work. But the one thing that got me curious on his appearance was that he wore some sort of a masked but beautiful ribbon-bandanna that covered his eyes except you can only see two blank eyes where they were.

Now for his personality, I will be honest that I only have a portion to see the full picture. I might assumed that he's calm, charming, well-mannered, self-calculated and somewhat mysterious.

His relationships with everyone he knows, work and might have met... it was somehow... unpredictable?

For starters, he seems to get along well with most of my family except for Alex. He claimed that they've met before and I have a feeling that there's more to this story than what they've said, especially if Alex wanted to leave as soon as Matteo entered the room...

For work, he was doing his job and socialized normally. Some enjoyed talking to him, others were weary for some reason and some occasionally, have become fearful when they saw him... Not in reaction but more like a 'feeling.'

THAT was bothering me for one point of view, but the other thing that I noticed is that recently after I met him, I have the feeling that I'm being closely watched by someone... or something.

I started to notice during my patrols that there were more black dogs than usual in the city. It was no surprise that there were strays and it was common to see them every day. However, it seemed to me that they were watching me... but they wouldn't dare to come near me. I did however tried to fed one of them with a piece ham, which I sometimes have in my lunch, but he ran far from me when I approach him. I did took a trip to the animal shelter one time to see if they're having an over populated animal problems but it turns out that it was the opposite. I did asked if they had any reports of black dogs being spotted more often recently and they said that they never heard any of the sort. We ended our conversation with a 'keep your eyes out for them.'

It wasn't a coincidence until-

*Clap!* The sound of one of the doors to the refrigerator, for a dead body, was opened up. I saw him placing her well to position her before putting her there... This bring back that painful memory of my sister...

“You did said that we will meet again, but I didn't expect to be so soon, my dear.” I heard him say. “I did warned you that your ego and pride would be as fatal as drinking and medication. That guy who has an obsession for you has proven it.”

He then placed a clean, white sheet over her face, which was horribly disfigured and probably the cause of death. But even her face was not too damage to realized who it was.

I may not be one of those guys who knew first class people, but I knew her from the local newspapers in the scandals. Her name was Kyle Manberg. She was known as a young socialite in these parts, not to mentioned that she owns enough money to buy and sell Joey Drew Studios if she wanted. (But also that would make Bendy put her on his hit list.)

She was also no different from being a snobbish, rude, selfish rich girl... I rest my case.

I wasn't the one who was working on the case, but thankfully it was solved in less than a week and we have enough evidence to put him behind bars before any other girl would be fallen victim because of it.

He then made a hand gesture like a familiar prayer and then recited:

“O, Anubis! Mighty Anubis! Kyle has entered the gates to your realm, And we ask that you deem her worthy. Her spirit is a brave one, And her soul is an honorable one .”

I covered my mouth and placed my self glued to the wall next to me. Oh.. My... Ra! He's Egyptian too?! Wasn't he Italian? Or did he his the fact that he was partially Egyptian? Or was he both like I am?

“O, Anubis! Mighty Anubis! As you take her measure, And weigh her heart as she stands before you, Know that she was loved by many, And will be remembered by all.”

I then felt something vibrating from one of my coat pocket. I took it out to revealed some sort of a bracelet that had beautiful sapphire-like beads with a black jackal at the tip core... I sensed some sort of 'power' resonate from this...

“Anubis, welcome Kyle and deem her worthy of entrance, That she may walk through your realm, And be under your protection for all eternity.”

I found it from one of my parole yesterday. I was actually almost ambushed by three, big, tough guys and I was in a bit of a pickle... Thankfully, there was a large, black dog that looked like a wolf from the dark side of the alley that wee were in. As soon as the 'fearless' guys sees him with his big glowing golden eyes staring at them, they scattered like leaves in Autumn...

I took another look after watching them leave and the dog was gone, but I noticed that there was something shining from where he was... this thing I'm holding right now.

“O, Anubis! Mighty Anubis! Watch over Kyle as she bows before you...”

He then finished his prayer and it stopped vibrate... This is so... conflicting! I am so confused that I don't know if I should be overjoyed to meet someone that would be the same as I am OR should I be concerned and place my logic judgement on the evidences of being stalked.

“Are you here to return my prayer beads or asking to keep them?” I heard him soft spoke to me and I just blurred. “NYARGH!!! Oh My Osiris! You're so quiet!” Why did I let my guard down just now? This is so not like me! He chuckled. “Mi dispiace, I didn't meant to scare you. I was actually looking for that recently. It's very special and important to me, may I have it back?” He extended his arm in gesture.

I was a bit hesitant to give it back, but I really didn't want to cause a stir without sufficient evidence. He may be a bit odd at one point, but I can't judge him just yet. So I hand it over. “Grazie.” He rewarded me with a smile. “Would you like to join me for dinner this evening as a repayment?”

I immediately decline with a reason. “I'm afraid I can't. I promised to be home with a new book that the twins love to read. It's been popular lately with the dog themes recently.” Asides from black dogs....

He looked from aside to see my girl coming with some folders. “Mr. DeLuca? Have you finished your autopsy report?”

“Of course, I have my notes here. The victim died before her face was ruined with a heavy blunt object.” He said handing over the report.

“Huh? But I thought she only died on impact.” She looked confused.

“Actually, I found traces of this new 'diet pill' called 'Thinner' in her stomach along with some alcohol that was ingested that I discovered is wine. The ingredients mixed together made a recipe for death without the victim noticing it. I recently noticed it among the recent 'clients' I have diagnosed with. I've immediately made a close copy of this report for the purpose of alerting the health board committees about this new pills that are distributed and to take a second look upon the selling drug's ingredients. But aside from that, I also found some undigested pieces of lasagna, which this proves that she was indeed at that restaurant of Chez Garfield's that would prove her at the same time as the culprit, as it was on one of the receipt that is now in the evidence vault.”

We were both shook. I personally know that coroners in my experiences only do one part of the job and only sticks too it, but he just looked at the whole case and piece it together better than I could have. Now I know how Watson would feel whenever Sherlock can deduct his theories in minutes while he took a minimum three hours of concentrations...

“Wow! That was so accurate! I've heard that would be the case, but you might be right! Good job, Matteo!” Kitty was certainly impressed. I was a bit... jealous.

No no! Keep it humble, Felix! Dad wanted you to be humble. You'll get your chance soon!

“I thank you for compliments, but the detectives would have come to the came conclusion if they saw my report and their evidences. You're Katarinna, the girl at the desk and Felix's partner, correct? I can see he's a very lucky guy.” He flatter her and she's giggling and blushing. Now I'm getting jealous.

“Say, mind if I ask to have your friend just for the evening? I wished to make a friend here and he seems so much friendlier than the ones I was introduced to.” He asked her the similar question that I declined earlier.

“But I've-” She clapped my mouth. “Why, of course! He would me more than happy to show you around! He knows great spots for us and knows which areas to avoid for you know, shady activities and such. I'm sure you two will be great friends, right? I can look after the kids.” She looked at me begging to accept it. Why is she insisted, I did have one plausible theory...

“Oh? I didn't know you were married.” He asked confused. I corrected. “Oh no! Not really! I'm a guardian to my nephews!”

He then hummed in understatement and he took out a piece of paper and a pen. “I'll give you my address and you can come by 5. Is it alright?” He then gave it to me.

In this situation, I'm pretty much convinced to change my answer. “Alright, if that's what you both wanted.” I admitted in defeat.

“I knew you'll like it. I will start shopping for tonight.” He then left us alone.

Once we were, I had to ask her politely. “Kitty, I promised to read a story to the twins tonight. I can't make it.” I might be busy sometimes, but I don't want to leave them alone like I was at that age.

“Felix, this is a good opportunity for you to make a new friend or maybe a new ally for us, if you think about it. PLUS! Sheba really is falling for him. You know how she's been since 'you know what' happened a couple of years back with meeting someone new.”

Bingo. That's why she wanted me to be friends with. My 'sight' told me that was the motive. However, I can't say that it wasn't a good thing.

“I know that we both cared for Sheba as a friend, but I think she can manage her own relationship. Besides, I heard that he's is some sort of a new socialite, with his character and all, I don't know-” She then begged with big, bright, baby blue eyes. “Pleeeeeeeeeease! Just go out and ask him for our dear best friend's request? Me and Sheba can handle the twins. I'm sure they'll understand! She also said that if you can get him a date for her, she will go easy on you during practice sessions!”

This act is getting old... but I still can't say no to her after all she had done for me and being there in my darkest times...

“Alright, I will try but I can't make any guaranteed if this doesn't work out.” She then hug me tightly and showered me with kisses. “Oh, thank you, thank you thank you! I knew you're a real sweetheart! And IF you did manage for her date, I will so something extra special!” She winked before she disappeared...

I did my best not to shout with excitement, but I will admit that THIS is my chance to impress her again and step up my game! It's been a bit dicey with me and my cousin who's trying to steal her from me. He knew that she loves me, but sometimes his 'charms' can be persuaded... not to mentioned that he can get more expensive gifts *Cough! * that are actually stolen... BUT what I lack in that department made up for my hard work and honesty! Two things my cousin hates the most.

Of course, this would mean that I have to break my promise to the bed time reading... I knew that I would do my best to raise them after my sister's and my father's death... I'm gonna be like them and spend more time on work rather than parenting them. Not to mentioned they're exactly like my sister's characteristic of trouble making at that age... I'll pray that I won't have grey hair before I hit the 30 mark and that they'll learn to behave soon.

----Time for coffee ----

I sat at the coffee shop to wait for my coffee friend, Sam Toucan, for our usual coffee time.

It might have been two years, but it's like we were friends for a long time. Sam for me was like an older brother that I wish I have and at the same time GLAD I haven't. He is one of the most honest person I ever known, he can be brutally on the point with no filter and he's very a loyal friend...

And he was the first one to introduce me to Matteo at our BBQ party last month.

He came in and then he ordered the usual before sitting down with his big suitcase, which was rare for him to carry one as usual. But I think his face expression had explained what's gong on with his day. “Tabarnak. Why do these pot heads think I'm the only defense attorney that will help them? This is getting ridiculous!”

“Hey! At least you're getting a lot of cases AND you're in you own personal office away from the others! Did anyone of them involves something like a SUPER secretive case? Like an aristocratic robbery and wanted to be like, keep it private? Or maybe it's one of them top business influences that has something to do with Bendy's empire that would give us an advantage?” I tried to cheer him up and maybe have some good leads on this big case. Sam may not look like it, but he's a really good prosecutor. He might not be the best defence attorney, but he knows how to push and pull when he sees somethings not right.

Why did he switched? Well... that's a story for another day.

“How about a husband suing his wife cause he's tired of having peanut butter sandwiches every day for lunch or a teen wanted to sue her B-F-F-F-F-F! For not responding to her for a full week? Does THAT excite you, detective?” He showed his papers and I fell back to reality planet with his sarcasm. So much for movie plot references.

“Well... at least they'll know where you are? But enough about that, did you have any backgrounds on this Matteo DeLuca character? I only have rumors, but they're only so much reliable and I wondered if I REALLY should be trusting him for dinner tonight.” I knew that I shouldn't judge him too quickly, but there's a line between accepting offers with someone you knew well and someone you knew once.

“I understand that you don't trust people easily like I do, but I did had helpful tips from him during court trials. I will not deny that his autopsy reports were at least the most accurate to date compared to the others. Heck! Some whom I sort of 'tolerated' but I don't really hate most of them, even were impressed from his work and mature attitude. He seems like a calm, well-mannered kind of guy. He's probably not like any others who's wild at that age like you are, so at least that's a common ground to work with.” He assured me. So he's more disciplined that I though he was.

“I heard that he's somewhat rich and that he goes to social elite parties in this city from occasions. I'm sure that's not from a coroner's status alone.” Not to mentioned that he also had a ribbon mask across his eyes, unless it's an European, fashion, trending thing at the moment, it would make him too strange for his own good.

“From what I dug up, he's originally from Lucca, Italy. Born from a wealthy family and was part of the war efforts in a hospital. He was just helping out as a assistant coroner, but it was a difficult time for them at the end. Fortunately, his background was clear of any war crime so he's not a 'bad guy' perspective, with all the fiasco with their own dictator, Benito Mussolini, a few years back and his country is far better off than most of the others that are recovering at the moment. He was around 20 at the time, so that makes him around 25... That's like an in-between number for us.”

“He does look like my age, but what about his social rank?” I had to remind him.

“I was about to. I did checked his family background, it seems like his father was a well respected and a wealthy business men. Matteo however, followed his grandfather's footsteps of being a coroner instead of a making money, business guy. After the war, he lost contact with his father while his grandfather retired from practice and settled to a quiet country side before moving here himself in a few years. I'm guessing that he's looking for a fresh start like most of us after that.” He then saw the owner coming with our coffee pot and our signature cups.

I was silent for a minute when he mentioned about his father... Mine was killed while his was missing... My guesses is that he might have a similar fate and that he might never know... But wait... He DID recited a prayer to Anubis.

“Sam, did Matteo ever said or have an Egyptian relative or even been through Egypt?” There was one question that I was wondering since noon.

He thought about it. “Well... He never mentioned anything about it and I didn't find anything on record. This information was after the war, after all. If he might have been, I think it might have been lost. There were raids and chaos here and there... It was thanks to his father's safe that his papers were legit and kept all the records to have him here. If he does know he is or has been, he didn't mentioned it. Why ask?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I... found an object that looked like a black dog and it's decoration looks like Egyptian hieroglyphics. So I thought it's COULD be a possibility that he might be or he might have visited there. OR! His father might have given him as a gift-”

*CRASH! CLANG! DING-A-LING! *

There was that breaking dish sound following something black rushing out of the door... Another black dog, perhaps?

“Big Bird! Are you alright?” Sam shouted to the owner, but he nodded and gave an O.K. Gesture.

“Did you see that?” I asked. “See what?” He then asked. “Have you seen something black passing through the door?”

“No... I only heard a jingle after that... I was facing away from the front door in my position, so it's a possibility.” Right. I forgot that it was my turn to face the front door's direction. What were the odds of all days?

I sighed. “Well, I guess that I would find that out tonight. I hope that the twins will behave and that I will be there around 8.”

“Ne t'inquiete pas, mon ami. If I DID knew he's gonna be trouble, I would have known first hand. I think he should be fine and I'll be there if anything happens... unlike the times that you get off on your own without telling.” He then gave me the 'Look.'

I put up my hands in defense. “I swore! I'm not gonna go off alone like that again!”

----- Time skip on the way to dinner time!----

So... This is it huh?

I stand in front one of the uptown apartment's tenant’s door in one of my better outfits to go out. I wore a nice blue checkered sweater over a white buttoned shirt, light brown pants and bark brown shoes. I did kinda feel bad when I had to tell the twins about meeting a 'new friend,' until Sheba and Kitty reminded them that it was the same guy who came to our party this past summer and they were relieved. They actually liked him and they said that they've seen him at the nurse's office a few times... Inky said that he was very nice, so I'm guessing that there's nothing to fear...

I hope.

I knocked on the door and waited. Then it opened it up to see Matteo in a black vest, blue buttoned up shirt with a plum colored tie, black dress pants and black shoes. He looked like a million bucks and he was happy to see me.

“Felix! Benvenoto! I am so pleased that you've came! I have prepared our dinner. Please make yourself at home, I would love to make a new friend from our work asides on our working hours.” He shook my hand and I was guided to the inside.

His place looked like I just jumped from middle to first class. There was some beautiful European castle paintings, floral painted vases, masks that reminded me of those Italian Carnivals, Fleur-de-lis patterns on a large, blue blanket.

This guy is pretty well off.

He showed me to the dinning area with a lovely three-pieced chandelier hanging from a dinning table and chairs that would fit for a royal family on a country holiday... Just how RICH was he?

“I hope that my place isn't overwhelming. Most of these used to be my father's and my grandfather's that I didn't wished to give it away carelessly. Qui.” He moved a chair for me to sit.

I sat down gently. “I do understand that this would cost more than I could ever earn in my whole life if I live long enough. This is- is- is really something.” Why am I shuddering for? Because this is expensive! I felt like it would have been cheaper to go out to dinner than eat home made whatever main dish that would cost more than my house.

However, the scent from the kitchen had signaled that it's ready. “Ah! Scusami! I need to check if it's done. I made a very special dish that my nonna used to make since I was a little bambino. I hope you like it!” He place me back and he left the room.

I felt nervous. Not just from his place or how well he set up these elegant looking plates on the table, but also that I kinda have a portion of his picture to deal with. I knew that he seems like he's well-mannered and that he's very nice to the people, including kids if Inky said so. Of course, it could be just an act... I don't like to throw suspicions without any proof but I did seen this kind of act before and still today among 'popular' people.

I then saw him coming in with a small pot with a cover and place it on the table. He said that He's gonna get the main one shortly and I nodded. Is it a side dish before the main one? I didn't knew he can cook! Now I feel like I'm not the only guy who does that once in a while! I wondered if I can ask for recipes if it taste just as good as it's smell.

I then smell something REALLY good once he came with another pot. I nearly drooled but I was used to having good manners so I managed well. He sets it aside from the first one. “I've used to love cooking when I was very little with nonna! She and nonno were the ones who used to raise me when papa had to work all the time to support us. He was the bread and butter of our famiglia and he was very proud of his work... apart from nonno's.”

I wanted to ask more about it until he opened the first pot. It looked like there was some made of rice, macaroni, and lentils mixed together, topped with a spiced tomato sauce and garlic vinegar and garnished with chickpeas and crispy fried onions. I've also seen a bit of sprinklings of garlic juice, garlic vinegar and hot sauce. “This is called the Egyptian Kushari. It's a very popular dish from the 19th century in Egypt which originates from Israel. I love to try out new recipes, especially the ones from the Easts. I've also made our main dish, the Caprese Lasagna.” He then opened up what I've sort of had it in cut squares but now in fancy rolls. I didn't know you can do that.

“Wow, Matteo! I didn't know you can cook! I doubt that I can do the same like you can.” I complimented. “Grazie! It's like I've done the same with autopsies but smells more delicious and cut with fresh ingredients instead of organs.” He smiled at that.

Please don't make me waste your hard work with day job stories.

He chuckled as he took out a fork and knife. “Mi dispiace. I got my coroner's humour from nonno when I was growing up. He was very nice to me and I'm used to the dead.”

“Ha ha... True. Kinda like my line of work whenever there's a murderer report and that I needed to go to a crime scene. But I don't make any joke about it... It's a long story for me.” I tried to get along with a wary smile. I'm not that joking type when it comes to innocent victims and deceased family members. “I hope I didn't offended you. Have I said something I shouldn't have?” He asked me with a worried tone.

“Oh! Er- not really! I just had... bad personal experiences. It's not your fault, of course! You didn't know me well and this is our first time talking outside of work! This IS a chance for getting to know each other, after all!” I tried to assure him for the sake of Kitty and Sheba AND not to upset him on purpose on first, 'official' impressions!

“That is true. I like honesty in people and you showed me more than enough proof at times we've interacted at work. I've hardly said anything about myself at that BBQ party.” He said as he then took out the big scoop for the Kushari and place a nice portion on my plate.

“Well, you know! It's probably everybody else who talks over, especially with Woody and Sheba, that we barely said anything at all. So this would be a pretty good time to talk about each other!” I said as he then took his turn for his share.

“I like to hear your story first. So that I can understand you better.” He politely asked.

It took me a while for me to tell my story from my childhood, my sister, my father, then my family and friends.

“I see... you've experienced more unexpected deaths and you're the sole guardian of your nephews. I admire your determination of finding your sister's killer and ending this Alfonso's mafia empire. It's quite a big order to fill. I've did heard rumors about the mafia withing the social circles, but I wouldn't be surprise that it's actually true.” Matteo said after I finished my story.

“I know that I haven't got it easy, but I'm doing fine right now. It's thanks to my friends and family to support and inspire me.” I proudly said.

“If it's not much trouble, mind if I tell you a bit about myself? You can eat your meal now.” He asked and then pointed out my plate that I haven't touched yet. “Ah! I'm so sorry! Please! I'll eat and listen!” I was so talkative that I completely forgotten my meal. How rude can I be?!

“Va tutto bene! It's alright! I liked your story and I don't get angry over food. Would you like a drink?” He asked with a smile. “Milk, if you have some. No alcohol.” I answered.

“Very well.” He said as he leaves and then he returned in a minute with my glass, his own wine glass and a bottle of wine.

“I assume that you don't smoke either.” He sets down my glass. “No, I don't. I have nothing against people who does, but I don't want to have a bad habit and then my kids would be learning from that too.” I've seen people getting addicted and they think they can drink/smoke their problems away but in reality they're only getting it worse. Also, I needed to be in good physical condition just in case if there's an emergency.

“I understand. I myself don't drink much, but when I do, it's only in the company that I trust most. You, my new friend, is worthy to make a toast.” He then poured some nearly half full and raised his glass. “To our new friendship! I do hope that we would be very good amici from now on!” I smile and raised my glass to cling with his.

“Now, as I was saying, my story is a bit normal but at the same time unusual. I was from a city called Lucca in sweet Italy. My country was a very beautiful place to visit until that dreadful war have taken over. I was fortunate enough that I was able to leave it behind and try to start a new life like nonna would want me to have. It wasn't that I wanted to leave, but I came here for... personal business.” He said that last part in a different tone. I can't remember, but I think there was something else that he had hidden from everybody... it's a gut feeling.

“Ah! Listen to me being so gloomy! Maybe I should have started as a child instead. I have said that I only had my grandparents and my father when I was growing up. I never knew my mother, but I was told that she died after I was born. I used to go to her grave site at least once a week with nonna. I did already mentioned that my grandparents raised me most of my life and that my father was a wealthy business men that puts bread and butter on our table. We were pretty wealthy, but nothing like royals. My nonno was a medical doctor until he got a job as a coroner when I was around 8. We would rather spend time together with simplicity rather than in luxury, but my father, who he rarely came home once in a while, preferred to enjoy some sophisticated activities instead. Yet, we still love each other despite of our differences.”

So his grandparents wanted to raise him with a simple life while his father wanted him to be more like an aristocrat. A rather complex view, but at least he sounded like he turned out alright so far...

“My father wasn't fond of becoming a doctor from what nonno told me, but he told me that papa just wanted to support us and have a better life. I couldn't blame him for that. Most of my collection you'll see here was from him over the years. My relationship with papa was bit... how shall I say it? Awkward, most of the time.”

“Well, sometimes our parents do have a hard time understanding their kids. I know how that was with mine sometimes.” I sympathize with him. This Kushari dish is actually pretty good!

“Grazie. So after a few years and while I was studying in medical school, the war broke out and my nonno was assigned to help in the army's as a doctor. I was then too, send there. You cannot imagine the pain, suffering and yes, even deaths I've seen that early in my career. I was thankful that nonno was there to help me through. Now, I'm used to them.” He smiled down at the wine in his glass. He's lucky that he had someone at his side during those times, otherwise it would be very stressful and may cause some sort of mental breakdown. I saw those in hospitals sometimes.

“After the war, we noticed that my father hasn't contacted us for almost a year. We thought that it might be work, but once we checked his workplace, he was nowhere to be seen. We tried talking to co-workers, neighbours and the police, but there was no sign of him anywhere. It broke nonna's heart that we still haven't found him and that well... we might think the war might have taken him.” I gulped down. Not knowing what had happened to a family member would be just as worse as knowing one that was killed and still on the loose.

“I... I'm sorry for what happened.” He then smiled. “Oh no. It's alright. If there's a chance that he's alive, we will keep our hopes up. If he's not well... we shall at least made a proper burial for him.” I then finished off my dinner.

He sounded like he did care for his father, despite everything he just said. “I shall put these in the sink for now and we can discuss something more in the living room.” He took my plate and his to the kitchen.

I then went to where he said while I heard some rinsing to see some Egyptian artifacts that was wonderfully displayed in his cabinets. It reminded me of those times that I enjoyed going in the museums when I was younger and yes, the Egyptian themes were my favorites. I don't know why or if it has something to do with me being half Egyptian from what I was told, but I just felt like I had a really deep connections with them...

I see some golden scarabs, a Horus necklace and other items related to other gods at that time. Mostly on Anubis. However, I made eye contact to one particular piece that made me stop cold.

It was a picture of him and my cousin. In front of one of them pyramids... Except Matteo wasn't wearing an eye mask in it!

As I took a closer look at his eyes, it has that same odd grey tone like me and Alex had whenever we had our pictures taken. Which means that's another sign that he's got a 'special' talent too! But what is his specialty? I mean, mine is uncovering secrets and lies while my cousin, at one time, had better combat abilities. So what is his and does it relate to Anubis' powers?

Not to mention-

“I see you've found my previous relationship with him.” He said that and it shocked me. I didn't know that he was JUST behind me! Is assassination part of his personality traits?!

No! No! Calm down! Don't judge too soon! I was just focusing too much on the objects and that picture.

He then chuckled. “Mi Dispiace! I didn't want to alarm you.” He then reached out to the cabinet's handle and I move out of the way. He opened up and reach the photo and a large, black book that was tucked behind it. I think I was too focused on that picture to notice it. “But I do not wished to disturb your examination.”

“I noticed and you've mentioned previously when we first met that you and my cousin before you move here... How was he when you both met- Actually! HOW did you two met? Is it in Egypt like in that photo or somewhere else?”

I really wanted to know how well they've known each other. If they're friends, that means one more person to look out for. But wait, if they ARE, why was Alex so afraid that he nearly jumped out of his skin when they've made eye contact? How did Sam and Woody trust him so well in that short amount of time? And why does this has anything to do with me asides a request for Kitty and Sheba?

“Let's have you sit down for a minute. This would be an... interesting story.” He said to me like it's going to be a very special 'thing' but I can't help but feeling... oddly suspicious? If that makes any sense for feeling that this can go very south pretty fast. I sat on that lovely blue Victorian-like couch and I saw him pulled out an old photo album. He took out one of the pictures and showed it to me.

This was probably taken in a theater or opera based on their evening tuxedos and that he wasn't wearing that mask at that time too. “I first met your cousin in my home country where I was attending for a musical classic along with an acquaintance of my grandfather's who was an archaeologist named Professor Clayton Baritone. He was at first an charming individual with a shared common passion for Egypt's culture like myself. I may have been raised Italian, but I always had that attracted 'home' feeling whenever I see or hear from that place.”

“I can relate. I thought that it was probably just me that had these feelings... I told a few times that our museum-Oops! I mean- please continue!” Why am I rambling about? This is HIS story! Not mine, stupid!

“You seemed like you're the same as I... Just like your cousin... He told me a fabricated story about how he was studying as a history teacher and that he wanted to experience an excursion from us who were going to attend in three weeks from then.”

The only things that my cousin is interested in are diamonds and recently my girl... It would had to be something VERY important if he wanted something really bad from there. I kept my cool and asked. “I see... how did he know and did he said anything else at that time? Like, me?”

“If you're what he described as a cousin who his whole family claimed that you were the 'perfect' child, he might be exaggerating. I only had a few pieces that was true or not with him.”

I raised an eye brow on that. “Perfect child? I have no traits of being a perfectionist. In fact, I thought that he was pretty cool himself when we were younger. Before... stuff happens between us.” I used to think that he was like a normal kid back then. He was decent soccer player and that British game called 'Cricket,' which is similar to baseball here in U.S.A. He was pretty smart and did very well in school until... he somewhat 'vanished' in the teenage years and I didn't see him until more than a year ago.

“Was he a different person with you too?” He asked. “Well... you might say that. I'm still trying to figure that part out. But how did things happened after that and in Egypt? What went down there?”

He was silent for a few seconds and explained. “After we've became well known to each other, we made an agreement with the professor for him to accompany us for an experience. Thinking that this would help him tell personal life stories for future students and to avoid from a certain rumors of robberies that also happened around that time.” Gee! I wondered WHO would do such a thing? “Once we were in Egypt, we're in the areas that were accessible at that time since the end of war, we've found an old historic site that was where the gods were worshiped in those days. There were many before us who visited there even before the war, but it was still impressive that it was so well kept all this time.” I knew that Egypt was close to it's borders of Europe, but I'm betting that it was probably down south if it was untouched. “For the both of us at the time, it was like a pretty good times we had. We were studying hieroglyphics, had nice lunch, learning to ride camels from locals and other great activities.” He seems like he and Alex was really enjoying themselves like old friends on a trip.

But then I realized about the next dreaded question. “So... what happened on... how it ended?”

He smirked as if he knew that I would ask that. “How our friendship ended? Here. Let me spoil you what he did.” He lifted his mask to reveal a very bad scar across his eyes. I covered my mouth before I gasped. “This happened on the last three days that we had left on our trip. The evening of that day, I was looking for him to come at a party that was hosted. I assumed that he was in our rooms that we shared, but I noticed that he escaped from the widow and that he was planning other than 'historical' facts. I knew that he was fascinated on sacred objects and knowledgeable on what is real and not, but I wouldn't expect that he was going to steal a very forbidden artifact that should never leave in those catacombs. After I've gathered what information that the locals on where he might be, I found out that he sneak-in on one of the tombs that was well guarded and off limits to tourists.”

I then saw some shadows stared to form around him. He was also showing his canine fans. I was getting scared. “When I finally caught him holding one of the forbidden treasures, the Apophis' eye, I've confronted him about his plans and his true intentions. He was a thief, an international thief that was wanted in many countries... and a good liar. Heh!”

I then saw the shadows growing much larger and shaped into black dogs. Like the ones that I've noticed and seen around here. I don't like where this is going.

“As much as I've fought, I wasn't experienced enough in combats as of riffles.” Riffles?! “B-but didn't you- Weren't you-” I staggered until I heard something cocked. I didn't realized that he had a pistol in his left hand... Nor did I sensed it.

“This little guy was a parting gift from nonno before I traveled here in search of him. You do remembered that Italy was one in alliance with Germany and that there was a huge fiasco on the government after Mussolini's death during those times? I had to train myself for protecting anyone who tries to do harm or even attempting to steal our hospital. Most of the time I've only gave 'warning' shots... Others didn't get the message.”

So he DOES have some secrets... What in Anubis name did my cousin got me into this time?!

O.K., think rationally, it's clear that he wants revenge on my cousin for stealing and scaring him, right? And I believed that he dug a bit to find out about me being related as his cousin, right?

I was thinking something to get him calm down a bit until he said. “Don't get this wrong. I'm not here to take you out nor any of your friends... I'm here to set things right and return the eye.” He then un-cocked the pistol and I saw it vanished into the shadows... No wonder I couldn't 'detect' it earlier. Now I need to worry about the 'shadow' dogs that were staring at me with deep, blue eyes at me like I'm their latest chew toy!

“You mean... that Apophis' eye thing? What does it look like and how can-”

“It is a rare jewel that looks like a bloody colored diamond. When in daylight, it looks like any regular diamond but when it was hit by moonlight, it became bloody red. It was, according to legends, a trophy by one the gods after Apophis was defeated. It may sound a bit far fetched on how and which ones in particular, some say that it was either Bastet or Horus, but the treasure was just as real.” He sighed. “Even if the days of the Egyptian ways were long gone, that forbidden treasure is still a dangerous artifact that should NEVER be in anyone's hands. Even I was getting disturbing vibes from it's glass contain.”

I can see that he was getting upset for that fact that he let Alex getting away for that. I do to whenever I encounter either him or Bendy, no matter how well I do, they always played dirty to get away.

“Matteo... This wasn't your fault. If anyone's to be blamed on what happened, it's Alex. I'm not sure what I can do, but I know he does pop here from time to time just to steal my girl or a treasure in Chicago's exhibition. I never knew that he would do something like this at that level of cruelty... just for a diamond.”

I then heard some of the snarls from one of the shadow dogs. “Wh-what did I say? I know that he loves diamonds but-”

“You just forgot what I just said about the Apophis' eye.” He said. “That Bloody red colored diamond? It's curse thing is an Egyptian myth and nowadays it doesn't make any sense or solid proof. It's probably just a made up story to scare off any potential theft and well-”

Suddenly the two dogs jumped both on my arms and I screamed as I was forced on my knees. “Matteo! Stop! *gasp *?!”

I looked up to see his eyes... they we're staring in a really golden color into mine... I then fainted.

--- The next morning ----

I sat on my couch in deep thought, curled in to a ball with both knees up and think of what EXACTLY happened last night.

I was invited to know this new coroner, had a meal, we chatted, we we're at first on good terms, then I was looking at some treasures AND then things gone south!!

I tried to remembered what happened when I fainted, but all I remembered is being woken up on his couch when Sam and Woody we're chatting with him and then I fell back into sleep. From what they told me once I woke up a few hours later, they told me that I probably ate something at supper that made me nauseous and that I feel ill not soon after... By Matteo's perspective.

If only I had proof that he's a threat! I mean, how can they believed something like that so easily?! It wasn't like them, especially for Sam!

I was already mad that not only that, but early this morning, they all told me to take a day off and that maybe it's because I was working too hard lately and not worry about the kids...

I knew that they'll be back at supper due to after school activities, but I was so confused and pissed!

I sighed. “Dear Ra... Why did my life had to be more complicated than it is? Why am I stuck getting more bad guys on my plate?” I then heard a knock on the door and wondered who could it be. It wasn't like any mail would come this late and any close friends would shout their names while doing so.

Who could it be? I got up at the door and then that face from last night re-appeared. I tried closing as quick as I could but he beat me to it. “Felix, please. I'm not here to make enemies. I wished to apologized what happened last night.” He said.

“If you REALLY didn't mean it, why the heck did you did THAT in the first place? If it's about my cousin, leave me and the others out of this!” I was about to say something until he said in a serious tone. “If you don't believed me, then use your eyes. I'm telling the truth. I am not here to get you and your close ones.”

I didn't want to believe another word, but then my eyes started twitching and begged me... I had this 'talent' that tells me like a gut feeling saying that I HAVE to use it. I only blink once and my sight was seeing him.

“...I'm telling the truth. I am not here to get you and your close ones.” I heard him repeated. I saw no detection of lying and not-so surprisingly but still, I saw THE Anubis in his shadow form. The only other Egyptian deities I've seen was Bastet sometimes and Sekmeth at one point from my cousin...

But the main point to this that he wasn't lying... He's not after me... “Then... why are you here asides apologizing?”

“I came here to apologies and... I had to clarify on why I'm really here for. May I come in for a few minutes?” He pleadingly asked. I was still not trusting, but I didn't 'see' anything malicious intentions...

“I will only say what I need and leave... per favore.” His golden eyes says that he's indeed telling the truth...

I decided to give him a second chance... Like I've done this with another close friend of mine.

“I'm gonna give you just ONE more chance. Don't make me regret it.” I finally admitted. His face expression had brighten up and immediately hug me and swirled me inside. “Grazie!” I was shocked at that gesture. Do Italian hug guys like this?

“Ok! Ok! Now put me down!” I said and he did. “Mi dispace! After I lost my temper last night... I thought that I might have left a bad first impression.” He said with a weak smile.

“Well... I did had a really deep thinking a moment ago and well... part of that was a bit my fault about the beliefs of a 'curse' and stuff. I was taught at a young age to use logic instead of superstitions beliefs.” I admitted. I may not believed wholeheartedly about the Egyptian beliefs, but I do get how this can be affected in everyday life and how coincidentally it's true...

“Let me guess, you've had a parent that was against using 'those' talents and to rely on hard evidence?” He then hits the nail right on the head. “H-huh?”

“I can sometimes tell the cover because I've read the book.” He kindly smiled and knew what I've been through when I started to discovered about my 'talent.'

“You... You're grandparents didn't like it?” I asked. “More like religiously against it... But thankfully I didn't got caught.” He then implied.

That. Is. Next. Level. Scary. It might have been easier for him to confess them that he's gay than to say that!

“YOU'RE are in a whole other level than I was. Italy is well known for- Ah!” I forgot about what is really important. “Wait! Actually, you said about what happened last night! Let's just- Keep it simple!” I do not want to debate on THAT. He then patted on my head. “Don't worry. I'm not here to judge on what beliefs we are into.” He treated me like I'm a kid that tries to be a grown up... I felt a bit embarrassed of the fact that I'm constantly reminded of how small I am.

We then went to the living room and settled down. He then started to explain. “Now about last night... I've already said that I was with your cousin over a year ago.”

I nodded. “Yeah. He impersonated as a student to become a historical teacher, got on the trip to Egypt with you and the professor, had some memorable moments until that one night changed everything and... attacked you. AND then stole a 'cursed' diamond.” I repeated on what he said last night.

“In that order, yes. I had that horrible flashback on that night and I got angry. Not only for letting him get away, but also stealing a forbidden treasure that no one knows that the curse is real. Even if they never heard of it before.” He said.

“I'm sorry that I might have said something like that, but what does this diamond do in actuality? If it's not a 'warning' myth for thieves to lay off of it, then what does it actually do?” How bad can this be if this is what's worth killing for, especially for Alex?

“When was the last time you've met him? Asides that BBQ party?” he asked.

“Alex? Well... I would say... in an unexpected... robbery incident. OK! Two weeks ago, I saw him robbing at a high end jewelry store. We had a brawl with our whips and guns and despite he got away with a few, most of the items were still safe. I knew he was just as good as his fighting skills, but it was a big differences over these past few months. Unless maybe... Sekmeth might have something to do with this, but I don't 'sense' her presence in a long time...” I've did seen her in my dreams sometimes, but it was like I couldn't remembered why she was there.

“Have you notice anything else different? His face? Voice?” He tried asking as I tried to remembered something that would be out of place...

“I... think not but... I DO feel like there was a different presence within him... Unlike Sekmeth, I felt like this was a whole other being.” I can kinda tell how strong an Egyptian's deity is at presence, but I didn't had anyone else but Alex and Matteo for this.

He was surprised. “His 'presence' was different... Which means time is still on his side for now.” He then was deep in thoughts.

“Matteo... What does this 'Apophis' eye' do to users? Do they increased their abilities?” I guessed.

“More like that but at the expenses of the user's life span. The more he uses, the shorter he will live and at the same time, his powers would increased when he's at that stage when he's not gonna live much longer. It only takes one use of it's power before it becomes addictive. It would be the same for us even if we had good intentions.”

I gulped. So that's why he needed to find him. Whether I believed him or not, I did had a hard time fighting with my cousin and Matteo seems like he wasn't built for combat... except for some gun expertise. Then again, I still don't know if he had a plan on taking him down...

“So... what's your plan for him? You're gonna track him down and...?”

“I shall find that eye before he can do more harm. I would preferred to avoid any unnecessary violence and then... I need to destroy it for good.” He planned out.

“I would say that would be the best case scenario but there's one TEENIE tiny problem with that... Diamonds are the toughest gems. Even if you did manage to take it back, it would be almost impossible without a diamond cutting tool of a sort.” I mean, it's not impossible, but I know that it will take some sort of a really powerful weaponry to break it and it's not so easy to get your hands on one of them.

“There's no need to destroy it physically. When I was attacked and fainted that night, I had a visit from my guardian himself and I learn an ancient spell that will purify the diamond's curse and it would then became just a simple piece of stone. But in order to do that, I must bind a guardian contact with another fellow Egyptian descendant who posses the golden eyes.”

“Eh? Why? Can't you do it by yourself? You seem pretty powerful, I mean, well... What's your specialty, exactly? Seeing the dead? Grim reaping something?” As his guardian was a popular deity nowadays with Egyptian treasuries around the world, Anubis had quite several roles with different stories and myths on what he actually does and it's a LONG list.

He giggled. “How did you know that I DO see the dead?” My mind was then blank for a second. I mean, I did NOT intend it to be true but... After what I've seen so far, does this seem all real or was this a gag? My mind is a mess figuring this out.

“Of course, I can prove to you with another trick, one that won't cause any harm but will convince you that one of my 'abilities' from last night are real... I learn it after that night in Egypt. Look closely at that shadow from the one chair sofa.”

He pointed out at that couch I was sitting on before he came. In this daytime, the chair had that shadowy silhouette that would be big enough for my two nephews to crouch down. He did so and right in front of my eyes, he disappeared into the shadow.

I was shocked. Am I still tired or did THAT just happened? I crouched down to touch where the shadow is and figuring out how he done it. I've been in this house almost my entire life and if I knew about a secret passage, I would know. Little do I realized, I didn't noticed him right behind me until he gently touched my shoulder. I turned to see him and gasped. That is one deadly assassination move if he was one...

“I learned how to travel in shadows, merge, manipulate to name a few... my fighting skills, I've barely made much progress.” He confessed. Well, that explains a bit in a 'magical' sense... But who am I to judge if I myself had 'mysterious' abilities?

“Matteo, I know that we've barely had time to know each other and now I know why you're here for a 'purpose,' but why would you choose me specifically? Like, aren't there others like us or is it because I'm closely related to him that I had to do it?” If there were others like me, I would be very curious on who they are, what they do and who's their 'guardian spirit.' Like one of those test quizzes in magazines but with interactions.

“For the first one, I only met Alex and you with the same eye color. If they are, we probably haven't met them yet. For the second part well...” He was silent for a second until I got up to face him. “Whether you're cousins or not, he does have an agenda for you... He did told me he didn't like you.”

“I'm not surprised at that cause one time he told me 'Go kill yourself' with a smile.” I said. “But after what happened with you, him, then last night up until now... I... Don't know what to say.” Alex IS dangerous to some extent, but is he really going as far to kill me like this one of these days?

“You can say that as long as he held the Apophis' eye in his possession, he will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants at any price. I can easily sneak pass with one of my abilities, but finding it would require one of yours. You can detect what is real treasure and what is not, am I correct?” He asked.

I raised a question anyone could have asked in this moment. “Does that 'grim reaper's abilities' also included revealing dark secrets?” I raised an eye brow too at that.

He smile in amusement. “Not exactly. Anubis himself told me about it when I was looking where he is.” I frowned a bit feeling jealous. A little. But fair enough.

“I'm not gonna ask more on it... For now but anyways, what can I do to help? I can barely manage all of this before we've met, including life and my cousin rarely drops in from time to time.” Sure, a detective's job can be hectic, but I don't wanna to be completely take over my time because of my family and friends.

“Which is why we need to make a guardian contract. It will keep you safer and helps me to track down his hideout and cleanse the diamond's curse.” He repeatedly asked for this.

“Ummm... About that 'guardian contract' thing, I don't know what that's all about.” I confessed. Please Anubis that you've DID explain it to him cause I sure heck don't!

“A guardian contract is a sacred deal between two chosen descendants like we are. These contracts are strictly for serious issues like your cousin's crime that he committed, but they are very powerful and the best defense against it. In order to do so, one must ask for what he wants and in return he must give something to the other.” He broke it down. “However, once that contract is done, the shared abilities is not available anymore.”

“So meaning that in order to 'use' my ability to see real treasures, you must give something just like it in return?” I tried to understand it.

He nodded and offered this. “I will offer the ability to spare death or in your case, one of your nine lives.” My eyes were then wide opened. “Here. I will show you.” He then 'materialized' a hand gun and it doesn't take much to figure this one out. I immediately hold on to his wrist and said. “NO nonononononononono! I believe you! You're untouchable to death himself and probably ask to go at a pub once! Please put it away!” Last thing I need in this house is more chaos. He dispersed it like dust and I relaxed. “If you're gonna do something like that, at least don't do it in public.” I begged him.

“I won't. Now about that contract... I can also add another one favor... if you want to.” He asked for another proposal.

“Huh? You want something else?” I asked.

“I want to ask you to help me if ever I need assistance to confront your cousin. In combat, if ever there would be one.” He asked for me. “He's wanted from Egypt ever since and there's a price for his head. Cleansing the curse is one thing, but we both do agree that he still needs to pay for his actions.” He's wanted in that country too? Argh! Just how much countries is he gonna ruin too?!

“I get that he's wanted but... we've seen how he's pretty powerful on our own.” I told him that he's not gonna be easy to beat.

“Alone, yes, but two together, we have a much better standing chance.” He said.

“But... would that also required to do something in return under a 'guardian contract' thing?” I get that you'll gain an ability for a period of time until it's done, but does that work with a second favors?

“Not exactly. The guardian contract is only capable of one agreement each. This one is more on a personal matter, however, I will still give you something in return if we agreed do so.” He explained.

“Ok, so it's just one for each contract, I get it. Um. IF we do manage to bring Alex to justice on the secret agency for international affairs, what's gonna be for me?” I mean if it's plausible, what can he do that's on the same level as that?

He gave a silent moment to declare these words. “I can find the person that is responsible for your sister's death and it's victims.”

My mind draw to a blank. Sure, I did told much of my life story last night on the dinner table, but how is he gonna catch someone that's been never caught since?

“I can speak with the dead if I want to. They always 'tell' me things that the living wouldn't dare... I wouldn't estimate it even if you do believe me.” He said to me.

“B-but... nobody can't even find this guy up to date, not even me with MY abilities... Are you sure? If this IS a ray of hope, it would mean SO much for me and my late father.” I made a promise when I decided to become a detective that I will find my sister's killer, no matter how small the chances are.

“I see that's what you've wanted the most in the world. If this is too much for you to handle, I will understand. I won't pressure you and pretend that this never happened.” He bow his head a bit.

I think quite a bit for a minute. On one hand, if I accepted this, I can gain a temporary ability of his while he 'cleansed' the cursed diamond. If I wanted, I can help him capture Alex and report him to the International police and find my sister's killer.

On the other hand, that would require some more time than I can 'borrow' already. Sure, Matteo did said that he was gonna do the work, but he's probably gonna need my help to and I can't blame him for that.

But back on the first hand, this might be the only chance to find my sister's killer. The police connections weren't always the best and I can do only so much in my position...

My sister was very special to me and she's done so much...

Yet there was one other thing that I wanted to ask when he proposed the deal.

“Matteo.” I asked. “If 'we' manage to only 'cleanse' the diamond but not catching Alex, does the contract fail?”

“Well, I can still help you find the person responsible of your sister's death, but then I can only go as far as to say the name.” He confessed. Still good though. “Why you asked? Would you like me to assist there too?”

“No just... what are you gonna do then if that happened?” He did confessed he's not a great combat fighter... I then remembered what he can do instead. “Actually, never mind, I just remembered what you can do a few minutes ago!”

He smiled and then extended his hands out with his palm facing upwards. “Now... do you want to enter the guardian contract with me, knowing very well what is needed to be done?”

“Just one more thing... If say that one of us didn't want to do it anymore, what will happen?” What's the risk if this is a flop?

“We will lose the shared abilities and our gods will punish us.” He explained. Oh joy! More bad news. I thought that I would never get enough.

But still, if he's willing to take a risk like this to me like I would when I joined the police force with my line of work, I'll take it too.

I placed my right hand over his, then placed his other over mine, ask to place my other like he did and I did so.

He then chanted something like a 'spell' for a contract before he stops speaking and then I felt something strange. My vision around me blurred but I can still see Matteo clearly. Then I saw a shadowy figure emerging behind him and forms into the god of the dead himself, Anubis. Matteo's eyes were then brighten to a full golden color like it was shining. I then felt like I can't move or say anything. I then noticed Anubis' hands reached out for a hand shake at me, but in actuality, 'someone' behind me... I think it was Bastet herself.

I then noticed a golden ribbon wrapping around our arms as they formed a hand shake. Is this what he calls it a contract agreement? I then felt closing my eyes...

“Felix, Are you alright?” I opened them again to see Matteo again in my normal vision. I looked around to see that everything is normal and my sights are fine. I noticed that I'm still holding Matteo's hands and I released them as soon as I realized it. “I'm sorry! How long did I hold it?”

“Not long. I awoke only a second before you did.” He said so with a smile. “Was that just.. it?” I asked. I never done this before and I didn't felt anything strange. At least not yet.

“Of course it worked. I've seen Bastet and partly Anubis made a pact like we did. Now we both have a common goal and share one of our talents. I can now see what is the real treasure and you'll have a free pass from death. For now...” He said with confident.

“So what are we gonna do now or what do you want me to do first?” I asked him since he wanted to embarked this mission.

He gave me a pause and said. “For now, nothing.” I was surprised. “Alex only comes once in a while here and as soon as he saw Kitty, he's determined to get her in his claws. I can manage tracking him down and where he's usually stay in. If I needed more assistance, I can call you whenever the chance I can get. Besides, didn't you have enough on your plate with this Alfonso business?” He reminded me of one of my big life goals.

“Oh.. right... But wait! What if Alex tries to attack you again when you're alone? I mean, sure you're practically 'untouchable' to death, but you've said that you're not a great combat fighter and well... um...” I couldn't say about his scar that was hidden behind that masked bandage.

“Hmm... good point. I almost lost my eyes and had to cover half my face because of him. Do you know anyone around here that can teach me with a few tips on hands on combats?” He asked. I can only think of one person and that... was a gamble that I have to risk and the one of the reasons that I accepted his dinner invite last night.“Do you know Sheba?” I asked. “I've heard of her name once.” He confessed.

“Sheba's is one of my close friends since childhood and she's one of my coaches for training in the police academy.” I told him with a smile.

“I see... and is it the same miss Sheba your lady wanted me to ask if you'd take my offer last night, am I correct?” He smirked. Oh, Osiris! He got me! He laughed at my reaction. “Mi dispiace! I've over heard your conversation unintentionally. So this Sheba person... I am willing to take her to a dinner date in exchange if she agrees.”

“Yes! Yes! Please!” I replied. Anything to help me get Alex to back off of Kitty!

“Then it's settled..?” He then seems like he noticed something but I don't. “What is it, Matteo?” I asked.

“Felix, caro amico, would you mind sitting here for a few minutes? I will be right back.” He pushed me down on the sofa and headed upstairs. What is he doing and how did he know-

“AAAAAAAAH!” Crick!Crack! CRASH!!!

Was I heard from outside. I rushed to the window to open up and only to see that our ladder was half broken on the ground and the person that's lying on top of the rose bushes with an anvil was no other than Alex. I then heard another voice.

“Oi! Felix! Good t'min! I caught it on camera!” I looked to see Woody with his camera already and waved with approval.

“Woody?! What the heck is going on?!” How in the world can this be a coincidence when Matteo and I talked about him only to find him right outside of my house?!

I then heard Matteo coming back. “Woody and I had notice he was in the city earlier and I wanted to make amends before he comes here. That other friend, Sam Toucan, told me about a 'security' plan that he helped installed and I merely tested out to see if it worked. Miss Kitty would be pleased.” He tells me.

I was too confused despite that I understand what they were saying... But I decided to ask this. “Tell me, does this new security system comes with insurance of replacing the ladder and the rose bushes?”

“Well, we're going to meet him up at that coffee shop, so you can come along and Matteo is welcome too if he wants!” Woody said from the outside.

“Indeed. We still have plenty of time before school is done. Come now, new amico!” Matteo then grabs me and then we headed off, not hearing what my cousin mumbling 'I hate your new friends...'

----Author's notes----

OMG!!!! I am Sooooo late in my fanfics updates and I was so unmotivated lately.... Hope this long AF story would make up for it. I was originally gonna make it into a series like Golden Eyes, but I just don't have that kind of time and I got yelled at for staying late...

So here's my 3rd introduction of my OC, Matteo DeLuca. The coroner that speaks for the dead and his guardian is Anubis. I did wanted a character that's mysterious but had flaws if I wanted to make a good OCs. Otherwise, it's gonna be one of those over rated characters that's too good to be true. I hope that if Anubis DOES speak in this I wanted his character to be like this second guy!

I am planning to remake my second OC which was Woody McPecker. I didn't like him much the first time and he was an extra for the Golden Eyes series, but after some thoughts, I decided to re-brand him for new! So hope I can make a decent character with him!

I also added some cuisine recipies here for mixed rice dish Kushari and lasagna rolls here for anyone interested to cook these!

Love to hear your comments in my ask, don't be afraid to do so!

All BBTIM characters belongs to @marini4 and OCs Sam Toucan, Matteo DeLuca and Woody McPecker belongs to me.

#bendy before the ink machine #Felix The Cat #Felix #humanized #sam toucan #woody woodpecker #OC #marini4 #fanfiction #fanfic #Anubis #bastet #egyptian #Egypt

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shopggdbonsales-blog · 5 years

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batchaoticcollectionnight-blog · 6 years

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