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fweasleyswhore · 3 years

Note

Ok this might be a little long so I’m sorry but finals got me feeling some sort of way. So could you do a fic where it’s finals week and the fem!reader is stressed about what of her NEWTS that Oliver doesn’t have and it’s really late in the library, so late that the librarian isn’t even there because the reader had a key to lock up. And Oliver knows the reader has a tendency to lose track of time and work herself to the bone without really noticing. So he stops by the library to pick her up and basically has to carry her out of the library. And he takes her to his dorm instead because he knows everyone else is sneaking out to party and hogsmeade because they’ve finished whatever newts they had and he knows if he took the reader to her dorm she would keep working. And he’s like “you need some stress relief” and he’s touching her leg but she’s so tired and he’s like “you just lay there and let me do all the work” and it’s just a soft romantic smut and he keeps going until she’s exhausted (like she finishes a couple times ~3) I’m so sorry this is so long I just needed to get this out of my mind

a/n: fucking yes, and as someone who is in finals week i just, need that rn, like oliver to fuck me so good and sleep away the stress just, yes so here you go darling! sorry it took me a hot min to get to

general tags: @fredshmeasley @pandaxnienke

oliver tags: @peachyy-em @losers-club6

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut, 18+ themes, soft romantic smut, fingering/oral fem recieving, unprotected sex

My eyes hurt but I continued scanning my advanced potion book. My N.E.W.T. was next week and I was one of five students who decided to take this class. I was intrigued by potions, having been all my life, so being able to take the highest level class Hogwarts offered I jumped. Of course, I was not very fond of Snape, or how he treated his students but the subject matter was enough to get me through. I felt the weight of the library key in my pocket as I stood up to put some of my books back. Although my stack was getting smaller it wasn’t yet completely finished.

Adjusting the candle my eyes stung as the light flickered. Despite the pain, I set the candle down opening the chapter Chizpurfle Carapace trying to memorize its effects and uses.

“Thought I would find you here.” The voice made me jump causing the candle to turn over and spill wax all over the table. My shock faded and I was filled with anger, swiveling in my chair prepared to hex whoever caused it. My eyes softened when I saw him.

His tongue in his cheek and a worried expression cast over his face as he examined the area. Silently I watched him pull out his wand, casting a spell under his breath his eyes didn’t meet mine.

“Ollie what are you doing here?” I asked. He shifted on his feet, finally pulling his eyes up to mine.

“Looking for my beautiful girl of course.” His words were accompanied by a cheeky grin, confidence rolling off of him in waves. I felt my face heat up but I pushed my feelings aside turning back to my book.

“I need to study,” I said quietly trying to hide my face under the pages of my book.

“No. You need to rest.” He moved in front of me. Successfully capturing my book is his hands and closing it. Deciding against fighting him, knowing of his iron grip I looked up at him. He looked ethereal in the low candle light, towering over me. A soft smile spread across my face just admiring his features.

“I’m not on the Quidditch team you can’t order me around you know.”

“I damn will try.” His words came out with a half hearted laugh.

“Seriously I need to study, can I-” Right when I reached for the book he pulled it out of my reach, a glint in his eye I couldn’t quite read.

“You can try to fight me for your book back, a fight you will lose. Try to study with another book of which I will take from you and bring you back to option one, or you can come out of this dingy library with me and take a break.”

“But I don’t need a break-”

“Yes. You. Do. Now, up.” He held out his free hand for me to take. Sighing I grabbed it, like a truck I felt the days and tireless hours of study finally catch up to me. I faltered slightly as I stood feeling my body try and weigh myself down like a bag of bricks. “Easy now, I got you.”

I felt his arm slip around my waist, offering more support and I leaned into it. Putting the book down on the desk I was as he grabbed his wand, sending the books back into their proper places.

“Thank you Ollie.” He hummed pressing a light kiss to my temple and led me out of the library. I didn’t pay much attention to walking as he led me away, pushing my face into his chest. I breathed in his familiar and distinct scent. Cinnamon Gum, hints of leather and oak. It made me smile and my stomach flip, the only thing convincing me that it wasn’t a dream being I felt his ever present arms around me.

“Key?” He asked, closing the doors with the arm not around me.

“Pocket, here.” I shoved my hands into my pocket, rummaging around for a second before depositing it in his palm. Our fingers touched and the skin on skin contact made fireworks erupt in my body, the feeling of his hand became more present on my waist as I let my mind wander to the other things his hands can do.

“Cmon, why are you standing there like a statue. Let’s go.” His words snapped me out of my daze and I forced my legs to walk, hiding my face in his shoulder as we walked, trying to diminish the thoughts of him in more precarious ways.

My eyes were half closed as we walked back through the portrait hole, trusting Oliver to dispose of me back in my dorm. Finally I fell back against a bed, letting my body relax into it and blinking around trying to see where we are.

“Is this your dorm?” I asked as he pulled off my boot.

“Yeah, I don’t trust you to not go right back to your books when I leave you alone, also I never minded some company.” Pulling off the other boot, he discarded it on his floor and sat beside me. Pushing some stray hairs away from my face. “Can I help?”

I smiled weakly, leaning into his touch. “No, I’m just really stressed. It will be better after the exams pass.” He hummed. I watched his eyes wander to different points in his room, never staying in one place too long. A cheeky smirk found his face and he stopped his searching looking down at me.

“I have an idea.”

“What’s that?” I leaned up, a shiver of excitement tore through me, waking me slightly.

“Let me help you calm down darling.” His hands stopped playing with my hair, they trailed down to my neck, then my chest and finally my thigh. Where he let his hands trail lightly on the skin, moving in small meaningless patterns leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Ollie, I’m tired.” I reminded, catching his drift. The idea did sound wonderful, I just wasn’t interested in foreplay and giving tonight. The idea felt unfair.

“Let me do all the work, can you let me do that for you darling?” He began grabbing my thigh more roughly, the feeling sent shivers down my spine and my stomach flipped in anticipation. He continued, cocking his eyebrow at me.

“Please.” I gave in, the feeling of arousal winning the fight against my tired state. “I need you.”

“That's what I like to hear.” He laughed before leaning down and catching my lips in a kiss. It was slow but it was enough with his added touch to quicken my heart rate. He brought his hand up my thigh, stroking it softly until he got to my underwear, which most definitely soaked at the point. Running his finger up and down my clothed sex he chuckled lightly, pulling away. My lips tried to follow but he got too far, opening my eyes I caught onto his cocky grin.

“Tired are we?” He teased. I let out a short hiff of annoyance preparing to push back but before I could he had pushed my panties aside, thumbing my clit gently. Letting out a soft moan I relaxed pushing my head into his thigh. Everything drained from my mind at the feeling, my body went limp, twitching at the slightest touch.

“Feel good sweetheart?” I nodded in response unable to conjure up words at the given moment. His fingers sped up at my response, working quickly with my slick to make me see stars.

“So good.” I breathed out. My eyes fluttered open to see him smiling at me, the shit eating grin told me my reactions were feeding his ego but the feeling spreading through my body was enough to distract me from caring. He began to thumb with a little more pressure. I felt my hips buck into his touch on their own accord, meeting his every move with ferocity. His other hand came up to stroke my hair, running through it gently and scratching my scalp with his fingers. The feeling felt amazing paired with his work below.

“Come on baby,” He coaxed, picking up his pace below. “Cum darling, let go.” I nodded, screwing my eyes shut and shoving my face into his thigh I let out a languid moan as he worked me through my orgasm, never stopping the rhythm of his hand. I bucked into his touch until it became too much and my hips fell against the bed, he understood, slowing his hand down and going back to stroking my thigh.

“Thank you.” I whispered, a lazy smile found its way to my mouth, batting my eyes up at him.

“I hope you don’t think I'm done with you yet.” he laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“What is the use of… Fluxweed?”

“It has healing properties but can be used in the Polyjuice potion if your sample is picked on the full moon.” I recounted my knowledge on the subject, my books flooding into my mind. “But what does this have to do with anything right now?”

“I don’t want you to be thinking about that right now, I want you to relax.”

“What did you expect? You asked.” A small giggle escaped my lips before I could stop it. Wishing I did when he glared at me.

“I mean,” He said with an eye roll. “When I am done with you I don’t want you to remember what a potion is.” I gulped at his words, his intentions sending a shiver down my spine, feeling myself growing wetter.

“Then I suggest you get to work.” I challenged. He smirked and changed his position on the bed. Hovering over my I finally got a good look at his face.

“You know I suggest you stop back talking if you want me to do this.” I smiled, leaning up I pecked his cheeks which soon took a rosy glow. “I’ll take that as an apology.” I giggled again as he started crawling down my body, peppering kisses to my abdomen that still tickled even through my clothes.

He settled himself between my thighs, pushing up my skirt, he pressed a few kisses to my hips in doing so. He was gentle as if too much pressure would cause me to shatter.

Hooking his fingers into my panties he pulled them down, I helped him by killing them off.

“So pretty,” Pressing another kiss to my folds I giggled at the contact. “My pretty baby.” He lapped a stripe up my folds, making me moan out and buck into his mouth. His hands were on my thighs, rubbing up and down and holding me in place to stop me from doing that again. He soon attached his tongue to my clit, lapping it and sucking gently every so often. The feeling was indescribable, his mouth was skilled and it made my brain foggy. I felt my orgasm quickly build, the pit in my stomach growing with every second of his teasing.

“Just like that,” I breathed out. My hands travelled up under my shirt, squeezing my breasts with instinct. The added feeling added to the fever growing in my stomach. I picked up my head, I tried to meet his eyes. They were staring intently into mine, pupils dark, almost swallowing his iris, a physical indication of his lust. When our eyes met his pace quickened, his lips surrounded my clit, sucking on it while lapping on it with his tongue. “Ollie!” I screamed his name as I came for the second time, arching my back and screwing my eyes shut in the process. He hummed against my clit, working me through my orgasm. His grip on my thighs tightened as they spasmed and tried to close around him.

Pulling back he rested his head on my thigh, placing chaste pecks to my skin. “You did great baby, can you do another one?”

My eyes widened in shock that he wanted to continue but my core ached for more. “Please?” I asked.

“How about another one on my fingers and then you can have my cock?” He purred.

I nodded feverishly. Excitement growing in my stomach, fueling my arousal.

“Spread your legs baby.” He ordered pushing on my thighs. I pulled them up and to the side of my torso. “So pretty, spread out and wet for me.”

“Only for you.” I whispered back.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He plunged a finger into my dripping heat. I clenched around him from the sudden intrusion, moaning as he curved his finger to hit deep inside me just right.

“You like that?” He sped up his finger as he asked, moving it in and against my walls.

“Yes m-more please.” He chuckled darkly, adding another finger and thrusting them to hit the spot inside of me. I moaned at the contact, he made the connection and began thrusting against the spot with more fever. Intermittently scissoring them to open me up.

I felt my muscles twitch as his speed picked up, my stomach twisted with pleasure. He wrapped his lips around my clit and began sucking while continuing his ministrations below.

“Ollie, ‘m gonna cum.” I breathed out, my hips bucked into his touch. Throwing my head back I came hard onto his fingers, my release making obscene noises against his thrusts.

“So good princess.” He cooed. Pulling his fingers out he picked himself up, situated himself between my thighs. He picked up my shaky legs, wrapping them around his hips. I watched him through heavy eyes, he released his cock from his trousers, pulling it free I noted the precum leaking from his pink tip. The sight making me want to drool.

“You want to keep going baby? We can stop if you want to.” He ran his hands up and down my quivering thighs.

“Want you, inside me.” I whimpered, my brain was cloudy and I felt tired but not completely satisfied and I needed more.

With that he pushed completely inside of me in one thrust. He paused, his hips flush with mine, his pelvis rocked against my clit causing me to clench around his length eliciting a groan from him. “Move.” He did as I asked and began to thrust into me at a slow and sensual pace. He brought his head down attaching his lips to mine, one holding himself up the other gripping my hip as he steadily pumped into me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Seemingly understanding my message he dropped to his forearm, his chest pressing against mine. The feeling was erotic, it made the romantic feeling multiply and his thrusts feel all the more deep I loved it truly.

He attached his mouth to my neck, leaving open mouthed kisses against it. I tangled my hands in his hair, pulling on it each time he hit the spot inside of me. “You're such a beautiful princess.” He whispered against the shell of my ear. I moaned in response, unable to talk back in my brain fog.

He thrusted into me again rocking his hips against me as he bottomed out, rubbing against my clit. The feeling made the coil snap within me. My walls clenched around him as I let out a languid moan. He grunted into my neck, continuing his pace until he stuttered, bottoming out and spilling his seed inside of me. He rocked slowly, fucking his cum inside of me before gingerly pulling out with hiss. I was shaking as he did so, letting out a whine and throwing my head back against his pillows.

I tried to slow my ragged breaths as he laid down next to me.

“Better now?” He asked, running a few fingers through my hair. I nodded breathlessly, swallowing hard. “What is the use of a Fairy Wing?” A faint smile on his mouth as he asked.

“Ollie you know honestly, right now, I don’t care.” I laughed. Eying him from the corner of my vision I couldn’t miss the cocky smile that broke out on his face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to!”

“Ugh, come here.” He wrapped me in his strong arms, burying my face in his chest I breathed in his scent, his heartbeat was a constant drum that lulled me to sleep, feeling satisfied and safe in his arms.

#oliver wood #oliver wood fluff #oliver wood smut #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x reader smut #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood fic #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood blurb #oliver wood x fem reader #Harry Potter Characters #Harry Potter #harry potter smut #harry potter character smut #smut #fanfiction

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juminsmysticmc · 3 years

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hey! i'm the pregnant christmas anon aha. my request was that it was around the end of November and mc was worrying about what to get jumin for christmas because he is IMPOSSIBLE to shop for and also gets the best gifts for her and although she can always find something small to get him that he can put on his desk she wanted to get him something good and he noticed something was off with her and said he was worried and should go to the doctor because she hadn't just had a checkup in a while and then she finds out she's pregnant and she was shocked because she was having trouble getting pregnant. "You're getting your christmas present one month early and eight months late, i'm pregnant" (lmao I didn't think it would be this long but pls feel free to change anything about it, I love your writing <3)

Late Christmas Present

You sighed once again as you turned another page. The luxury magazine you were currently reading couldn’t help you at all, and of course Yoosung, who sat across from you, noticed that you were getting nervous. The blonde man decided to forget about his studies and instead asked you if you were alright. You looked up and pointed at the magazine ,,I’m trying to figure out what I could give Jumin as a Christmas present, but there is nothing that I could give him,’’ you whined. Yoosung chuckled. ,,But Mc, it’s October! Christmas is still so far away! I mean, it’s still warm outside,’’ he laughed. You smiled and told him that you always got presents pretty early. ,,I never buy them at the last minute. I always buy them months before so that nothing can stress me out. For my mother, for example, I once bought her Christmas present in August, ahaha,’’ you laughed as you remembered the day you ordered her present even though you were still enjoying the warm sun at the beach.

,,Besides, if I can’t give him an heir for C&R, I could at least get him a good present, but I can’t even do that…’’ you suddenly whined. Your mood changed as you looked outside. ,,Jumin said that it’s okay that it’s harder for me to get pregnant and that I shouldn’t worry about the company, but I know that he wants children. I mean, the way he looks at children when we walk past them already says it all… he’s just too kind to me and I, as a wife, can’t give him anything…’’ Yoosung stayed silent as you whined, but suddenly he commented that you were maybe too stressed. ,,You should try to relax a bit more. Maybe you will have success!’’ he told you, never failing to smile at you. ,,Me? Stressed out? Jumin gives his best to make my life as comfortable as possible. How can I be stressed out? But you....YA YOU SHOULD BE STRESSED OUT!’’ you suddenly nagged at him, your voice raised as you watched his studies.

,,Ahhhh, but I don’t want to!’’ he whined, his eyes on his medical books again. The deal was that you would watch Yoosung to make sure that he would study since he once whined that he couldn’t handle it on his own. And since you were the only house wife and pretty good at understanding things, you agreed to help him. But studying with Yoosung was very hard. The young boy could get himself distracted in just a few seconds! But after you nagged at him, Yoosung luckily went on with his studies, and so the afternoon passed. After Yoosung left the penthouse, his words kept replaying in your head. Thinking that you could use a day to relax, you decided to put some hot water in your bathtub and relax with a little bit of wine and a good facial mask. The water kept flowing in the big bathtub as you looked through your candles to make the atmosphere better. You chose the ones that smelled like flowers and put them all around the room. You even put some rose petals into the water, as well as some nice smelling lotion.

Of course you first showered before you relaxed in the hot water. The wine was standing on your right as you slowly put your shoulders into the water, feeling the relaxation overcoming you. Classical music was coming from your laptop as you enjoyed the beautiful moment. You didn’t know how much time passed, you just knew that the feeling was just so beautiful. When the water began to become colder and your wine was empty, you slowly decided to get up, careful to not hurt yourself as you climbed out of it. Your hand reached for a towel as you exited the room afterwards, just to see your husband who just arrived home. Jumin looked at you as you stood half naked in front of him. ,,I like the way you come to greet me,’’ he laughed as you blushed because of the wine. You were never the type to get embarrassed. Your husband slowly approached you and began to kiss you. He first kissed your lips, then your neck, then up to your ears, and your cheeks. You chuckled at his warm lips and hugged him with your still wet arms. ,,My love, let’s love each other in our bedroom…’’ he whispered in your ear, going ahead to your shared bedroom to put away the towel from your body and kiss every single part of your body… ,,I will just take this frame so that he can put another picture of us on his desk,’’ you said to Yoosung as you scrolled through your phone.

A month had already passed and Yoosung couldn’t believe that you were still worried about the Christmas present for your husband. Suddenly you jumped up, feeling very nauseous. You walked to the bathroom and opened the door, just in time to empty your stomach into the toilet. Your hair fell in your face as your head was over the toilet. You hated this feeling. You felt sick with every second that passed. And not even Yoosung was a big help. The blonde man tried to grab your hair and patted your back as you finally finished vomiting. ,,It’s ten in the morning. You didn’t even eat so much. Why…?’’ he whined. You let your tired body fall on the ground as you supported your head on the wall. Suddenly your head was throbbing and you felt weird. You were scared. You felt kind of hungry and at the same time, sick. ,,I think I have a fever,’’ you whispered, looking over to Yoosung who was panicking over the phone by now. ,,She said that she has a fever,’’ he whined. ,,Jumin, I think she’s dying on me! She’s so pale! What? I didn’t kill her!’’ he by now sobbed. You rolled your eyes ,,Don’t say that I’ll die or he’ll worry! I’m just sick!’’ you tried to nag at him, but you were too sleepy. You had no energy anymore… You didn’t know how much time passed, but Yoosung was by your side the whole time. At some point he even brought a blanket to make you feel warmer while you were sitting on the cold floor since he wasn’t able to carry you to the bed. When you just wanted to get up, you heard the door opening with your husband rushing into the bathroom, followed by bodyguards and men in white coats. ,,My love!’’ he gasped and took you in his arms, your hand weakly around his neck while he carried you to a more comfortable place. ,,I can feel how hot you are…’’ he said meaning that your burning face was pressed against his neck.

,,Mr Han, please take care of everything else outside. We will take care of her,’’ one doctor said. ,,She’s sleeping, but her fever went down immediately. She will probably feel hungry, so make her soup or a bowl of rice. We took a sample of blood and checked her. As soon as we know something, we will let you know,’’ the doctor said and quickly went out to check what illness you had right away. No one knew at that point that you didn’t have any sort of illness… ,,I love you, my wife,’’ Jumin whispered. ,,I wish I could stay here with you, but I need to go to work. I will be back in a little while,’’ Jumin said. The next morning you vomited again. You were also a bit hotter, but everything else was okay. ,,The doctor will probably call here. I hope you have nothing serious, but don’t worry. I will take care of everything,’’ he said and smiled again before he went out of the room, ready to drive to the company. You on the other hand, weren’t that worried. You probably just caught the flu. And so, when the phone rang around twelve, you expected to be right with what you thought, however, the news they gave you made you even happier.

,,Thanks, Doctor. Please don’t tell him anything. I want to surprise him. I can’t believe it… how was that possible?’’ you sobbed happily on the phone. You quickly went on amazon and bought the frame. However, the picture you would put in there was completely different from the one you first thought… Thanks to Seven’s help, you even got the chance to go to the doctor without paparazzi seeing you.

A month passed by and Christmas finally came.

You with Jumin and the RFA sitting together, eating snacks and opening the presents. Seven had the task of making a video of Jumin opening your present, but you still wanted to wait with the big surprise. ,,My wife already got a few presents this morning,’’ Jumin said proudly. ,,Yeah, I saw on her Insta. What was it? A new bag and a necklace, Mc?’’ Zen asked you. You laughed and nodded ,,And the six candles from the USA. They just smell so good!’’ you laughed and held Jumin’s hand. ,,But here is one more for Mc…’’ Yoosung said. You were the one who got the most presents, not just because of Jumin, but the RFA itself had a deep bond with you. ,,Wait, it’s boring. Open your presents too! Don’t just give me mine!’’ you laughed and took the present you chose for Jaehee. ,,open it!’’ you chuckled, excited what your best friend would say. ,,A coffee maker? Woah!’’ she smiled and teared up. You knew her the best, she thought as she hugged you. Well, Jaehee was also the only one who knew about your pregnancy and helped you this month to hide it. It was her who always managed to make you eat healthy things at business meetings and whenever Jumin choosed to eat sushi, she tried her best to make him change plans. ,,I heard that lately, raw fish is very bad for women. I’m worried about Mc, but I will book it-’’ ,,No need, Assistant Kang, Look for a place that sells well cooked food,’’ he always changed his mind. Yoosung opened his presents too, getting a new keyboard, a mouse and a few things he wished for.

Even Zen got his beauty box from you, feeling very happy about it. ,,There is one last present,’’ Jaehee said and took the little box from the three. She waited until Seven started the camera since he was too busy observing the cute presents he got from you. One of them was a package of Dr. Pepper… but right now he knew that it was his time to work so he quickly took his phone and started the video while nodding to Jaehee. He didn’t know what was going on. Why did he need to take a video? ,,For Jumin, it says. Mr Han, I believe it’s yours,’’ Jaehee said, giving Jumin the cute little box wrapped in a paper with cats. ,,I think I need to sneeze…’’ Zen commented. Jumin’s eyes softened as his fingers touched the written note on it.

,,Your wife, Mc,’’ it said. He looked up to you and seemed emotionally touched. ,,There was no need for it…’’ he whispered and kissed your cheek. ,,Just open it,’’ you giggled, playing with your fingers, feeling kind of nervous. But you knew that he was going to like it. You were sure. Jumin slowly opened the box, careful not to break anything. ,,A frame…’’ he smiled ,,can I show everybody?’’ he asked you, probably expecting it to be kind of… smutty. You lightly slapped his shoulder as Zen rolled his eyes. As soon as Jumin turned around the frame to see the picture in it, he froze. A little note was over the frame. Everyone became tired as they noticed that the rich black haired man was suddenly crying. So did you. Tears rolled down your cheeks. ,,Finally, Jumin turned his head to you and began to stutter ,,I-is that.. r-re-real?’’ he asked you. ,,We did it, Jumin… you’re going to be a father,’’ you hiccuped, taking his hand and putting it on your still flat belly. ,,Hello, daddy. I’m already here, but I will meet you a bit later. Please accept me as a late Christmas present,’’ you said in a childish voice. The video ended with Jumin hugging you and sobbing in your neck as the RFA itself gave you guys an applause; even Zen.

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10.04.2021// 01:38 MEST

#Jumin #jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #mystic messenger jumin #mysticmessenger jumin #zen hyun ryu #Yoosung Kim #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #Headcanon #Mm headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #fanfiction #fanfic #mm fanfic

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mahalidael · 3 years

Text

Those Familiar Spirits

(*sprints up to the podium* FIRST FLYNN FANFIC. sort of. if you don’t count the phantomrose96 one, but flynn doesn’t actually appear in that one so make of it what you will)

Danny was two years old when the police came to their house. He must have thought the flashing lights were fireworks; he ran outside alone to look.

He saw uniforms, a funny black and white car, and a great deal of shouting between the grown-ups. It was July, and very muggy. Flies buzzed around the police cars’ lights as Mom and Dad talked very quietly, and Aunt Alicia yelled, and the police said ma’am, please, we’re trying to help, could you just, ma’am. Ma’am.

Danny ran up to get a better look but was promptly swept up by a police officer and carried back inside as he craned his neck to hear what they were saying.

Mom went inside for a minute and made him and Jazz sit on the couch. She told them gravely, “We’re just going to talk to the nice policemen, okay? Don’t go out there.”

Danny huffed. Jazz noticed his irritation and spoke up. “Can we watch TV if we stay inside?”

“Mm-hm,” said Mom, looking out the window at the lights again, already standing up and gravitating towards them.

Jazz reached for the TV remote and hit the power button with an ease that a four year old will only exhibit when provided with sufficiently busy parents. Danny started chewing on his shirt sleeve as images flashed on the screen; they were big kid cartoons that he had no interest in.

“Mom?” said Jazz, peeking up over the back of the couch.

Mom paused in the doorway and addressed one of the policemen before turning back to Jazz. “Just a second — yeah?”

“Where’s Flynn? He likes this show.”

“Um,” said Mom.

She cleared her throat.

“That’s what the policemen are going to help us with. I’m sure he’ll be back before it’s over.”

Their cousin was not back before it was over. He wasn’t back at all, but this, like most everything else from when he was two years old, fell through Danny’s memory like it was water.

...

Jack had been wary of his sister-in-law coming over for a week. He’d also been wary when Maddie described her sister’s marriage as “getting better” and said that she was “calling off the divorce.”

Anyway, within two days of the visit Danny had gotten it into his head that his uncle’s name was Damn-It-Bob.

But the most disconcerting thing was that Jack couldn’t do much about the situation. Alicia was a notoriously private person, and considered the matter of her marriage between herself, Maddie, and Damn-It-Bob. Trying to get close enough to be allowed into that inner circle was an exercise in self-endangerment. He had tried exactly once in college, and the dislocated wrist he’d gotten out of that arm wrestling match nearly cost him his scholarship.

Getting through to Damn-It-Bob was even more frustrating. Alicia, at least, cared about Maddie’s studies. She didn’t understand them, but looked on with interest as Maddie expertly extracted a sample from the latest ghost specimen and held it up to the light for her sister to see.

Damn-It-Bob was worse than an outsider. He was a snob.

Damn-It-Bob looked like if Alicia didn’t already have a pickup truck, he’d drive a Prius, and if he ever tried tikka masala he’d brag about it. Jack had to assume that if Alicia married him, they had to have some kind of common ground, but damn if he couldn’t figure out what it was. And apparently neither could they.

He had a degree in aerospace engineering, which he constantly emphasized was a really useful science. Alicia didn’t even have to work at the logging company if she didn’t want to keep up the family business.

He tried to charm the kids with pictures of the rockets he’d designed. It worked on Danny, which, yeah, okay, he was two years old, but Jazz seemed to pick up his intentions and tried to steer Danny away. Jeez. If Jack left her alone for five minutes, she might be doing calculus when he came back.

And then there was the kid.

He didn’t even notice that he was there until the Walkers were standing in the living room. Jack had walked behind Alicia to hang up their coats and suddenly saw him standing right behind her.

The kid hadn’t said a word in the entire thirty-minute production of his family coming inside — or if he had, he hadn’t been listened to. He had this sort of rust-colored hair that stuck out in all directions, like they tied up a big ponytail on the top of his head and chopped it off instead of giving him a real haircut.

Getting closer, Jack finally saw why the kid wasn’t talking. He had his nose buried in some book. Oh, so he was one of those, Jack thought. He hadn’t personally been a child who devoured books like a woodchipper, but Vlad had.

In any case, silent reading hour was over. “Hey, bucko!” said Jack. The kid nearly jumped out of his skin, one hand snapping the book shut like a cell phone at the end of a tense call. “Thirsty for knowledge, I see? We’ve got more down in the lab.”

He shrunk away. Alicia noticed and put a hand on his shoulder as she turned her attention away from Maddie. “—so that’s how the union settled. And you two remember Flynn, right?” she said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “We brought him to Danny’s baby shower. He was so shy back then you thought the table was set by a ghost for a solid thirty minutes.”

Maddie’s eyes landed on Flynn and lit up in recognition. “Oh, yeah! I remember. You were at least a head shorter last time we saw you.”

Flynn nodded, staring at his shoes. He hugged the book to his chest like it was a stuffed animal.

Alicia and her husband chuckled politely. “Well, you might have seen him earlier if you didn’t pull out your toys to try and find that ghost,” said her husband, less politely.

“Bob, could you please be civil?” Alicia said under her breath.

“The event was delayed by an hour and we missed our flight over a bunch of—”

“Damn it, Bob—”

“It was a poltergeist, technically,” Maddie laughed nervously, stepping between them, a note of oh lord not this again in her voice.

“Hey, kids, how about we go down to the basement and check out some cool gadgets?” Jack was itching to take Flynn and the children downstairs. He had to ditch the conversation before it went south. “Wanna see what ghost bones look like?”

Flynn actually looked like he was going to respond to that, but Damn-It-Bob cut in. “Flynn probably wouldn’t be interested in theoretical science. He likes studying useful things.”

Yeah, ectoscience was theoretical. You could tell it was bad because it was italicized.

Jack resisted the urge to get passive-aggressive right back. Not in front of the children. “There’s plenty of physical things in the lab that I’m sure Flynn’s gonna love. Every kid loves lasers. Right, Danny?” he queried his son, who was chewing on the leg of the coffee table.

Danny blew a raspberry, which he assumed was a yes. Jack managed to whisk them away before the Walkers started swearing at each other.

He put Jazz and Danny down in the little area of the lab that they’d sectioned off with a foldable plastic dog gate, where Jazz made herself busy putting all the crayons in a straight line before Danny picked them up and started scribbling on the rubber tiled floor.

“So, Flynn! We’ve got some whosits and whatsits to check out. That catches ghosts,” Jack said, pointing at the gadgets skewed across the counter like exploded, “this blasts ghosts, that catches and blasts ghosts, and this is a hot dog maker. What do you wanna see first?”

Flynn shrugged and shuffled an inch backwards.

Okay, this wasn’t going anywhere. Which was odd — they’d opened up the ops center to tourists in the past for alternate revenue, and kids always seemed to be the most excited about the gadgets.

Plan B, he guessed. “What’s that book about, anyway?” he said.

Flynn hesitantly held out the book. Jack took it. It was a big, heavy book, with a hard cover titled The Collected Jack London. Jack went to open it to a random page, but was interrupted when his leafing caused something to fall out from between the pages.

It was a flower. Flynn quickly snatched it off the floor and took his book back, scowling. “It’s sabatia geu — sabatia geutianoides,” he muttered. “It’s one of the rarest flowers in Arkansas, so I can’t pick another one.” He then very carefully flipped to another page in the book, counting the page numbers in whispers until he found the one he was looking for and slipped the flower back inside.

Ah. He could work with that. “Really? Is it the rarest one you’ve got?” he said, posing a challenge.

“Uh, I have Stern’s medlar, but just a leaf I got off the ground. They’re cruh — crit — crit-i-cal-ly endangered.”

“We’ve got some samples of a pretty rare plant ourselves.”

Flynn’s eyes lit up. “Can I see them?”

Jack took Flynn off into a side room. This room was mostly like the last, though being closed to visitors, it was far less organized. He picked Flynn up and lifted him over a heap of spare parts on the floor. “Watch your step.”

A cacophony of containers were heaped on a table in the center of the room. Only a few of them were planter pots that they’d already owned; the rest were old shoeboxes and burned-out pots and pans. They were all filled with soil. Their occupants stretched their purple-black stems towards the overhead sun lamp.

“Rosa sanguinea, also known as the Massachusetts blood blossom,” said Jack. “They were grown in the 1600s — apparently they release an anti-ghost vapor. Unfortunately, we can’t prove whether it works, since we don’t have any intact ghosts to test it on, but they’re delicious.”

“That’s so weird.” Flynn rubbed a black leaf between his fingers, as if he expected the color to come off. “Roses aren’t normally hardy enough to grow inside. And the leaves are naturally black?”

“Yep. Well, maybe. We think they were mutated by long-term exposure to ecto-energy. The biggest patch of them is around Salem, and that place is a hotspot for the natural portals to the dimension ghosts live in,” he said, pointing at the pictures of such that they’d pinned to the corkboard across the room. Jack himself couldn’t believe some of the places that they’d found natural portals in. One of the pictures on the corkboard was of a portal they’d found in a public toilet. “They’re stubborn little buggers, but only in ecto-energized soil — we had to cart the dirt in these pots all the way back from Massachusetts.”

Jack snapped his fingers.

“I’ve got an idea.” He picked up a blood blossom growing in a mason jar and handed it to Flynn. “That’s yours now. Take it back to Arkansas, and it’ll protect you from ghosts.”

“Really?” said Flynn, seemingly more awestruck by the plant itself than any properties it might’ve had. “I can have it?”

“All yours! After all, who knows when you might need it?”

...

Flynn hadn’t wanted to leave Arkansas. He hadn’t wanted to sit in Mom’s funny-smelling truck for ten-odd hours while listening to them argue about money, and ghosts, and damn it Bob, would it kill you to put the toilet paper in the holder the right way just once?

At some of the rest stops, Flynn had stood in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. The door was right behind him and Dad hadn’t left the stall yet. He could just turn around and run into the woods, so Mom and Dad would talk about something other than their horrible marriage.

Because Flynn was ten years old, and the problem that he saw was nothing as complex as an incompatibility of personality, or people growing apart. The problem he saw was that they needed to shut up about the divorce.

That was all he wanted. Something to come in and make them shut up, and make the divorce go away, and put things back where they were supposed to be.

But obviously that’s not how things work. Flynn went outside and picked dandelions that were growing at the edge of the parking lot, and he held them outside the window while they were driving so the seeds would scatter all along the road, and he still ended up visiting Uncle Jack and Aunt Maddie in New York, and Mom and Dad were still fighting over stupid stuff.

Flynn kept trying to put off the tour. He knew that Dad would hate the lab. He stuck with real things, metal and chalk numbers — never mind that one of the major points of contention was the slew of Young Living boxes sitting in their garage. A better statement was that Dad rejected any science he didn’t think he could exploit. Like, son, wildflowers are nice and all, but you know that the real money’s in saffron, right? It sells for twenty-five hundred a pop and it’s not getting any cheaper. Just think about it, son.

“ —converts ectoplasm into a power source.” Aunt Maddie was showing them something embedded in the lab wall. Flynn didn’t really like ectoscience either, but that was mostly because the topic freaked him out. He didn’t like when his friends played that pencil game that let you talk to ghosts, much less when his uncle talked about ripping them apart mmmolecule by mmmolecule.

It just felt kind of rude. They were people, at some point. Everyone knew a dead person.

“Quaint,” said Dad, turning over the hot dog maker he had found on the counter. “Very quaint.” It was his usual word of condemnation. “What’s that hole in the wall?”

It was barely a hole. Not so much because of size, but because it was so badly occupied by a tangle of wire that actually entering it would be impossible. Aunt Maddie said: “Our prototype for a stable portal into the ghost zone.” Dad scoffed, but she smiled tightly and ignored it. “With a reliable and stationary portal, we can collect data faster.”

“And it took you ten years to think of that?”

“Bob, if you don’t want to see it, you can just wait in the guest room,” said Mom, rubbing her temples.

“No, it’s fine, Alicia.” Aunt Maddie sighed. “We’ve been thinking of it. It just took this long to make sure building a portal large enough for a human to enter would be safe. A few years ago, a friend of ours was injured by one that wasn’t any bigger than a car tire — precautions needed to be taken—”

Dad put up his hand in a ‘halt’ gesture. “So, wait. You know that those things can hurt people, and yet you build a big one in your basement, and let your kids in here ?”

“They’re at a safe distance — they’re not even on the same side of the lab,” said Aunt Maddie, eyes narrow.

“Oh, thank goodness you let your toddlers play some paces away from a potential biohazard! ” Dad threw up his hands in fake relief. “I guess that makes it okay, then!”

Aunt Maddie looked like she was gearing up to shout. But she glanced at her kids in their little corner hutch, and seemed to think better of it. “Look, Bob, I — help me understand. Five minutes ago you were calling ghosts ‘fairy tales,’ and now you’re getting on about potentially endangering my children with something that, by your own logic, shouldn’t do anything. What’s your real problem?”

“My ‘real problem’ is that, ghosts or not — and there are certainly not — the fact that someone got hurt at all tells me that you’re tampering with something that you don’t understand—”

“Bob, that’s enough —”

Seed dispersion was one of the fundamental adaptations of the plant world. A seed that dropped straight down from its parent plant was a dead seed. It wouldn’t be able to access sufficient nutrition, water, or light so close.

Mom exiled him and Dad from the lab so she could have a good talk with Aunt Maddie. Uncle Jack awkwardly let them sit on the couch and watch NCIS with him.

“I just think that pseudoscience has no place in being the primary income for a family,” said Dad.

Uncle Jack nodded with a poorly disguised grimace.

“Anyway, have you heard that lavender has anti-autism properties?”

Uncle Jack suddenly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Luckily, Dad seemed to think that the distant laughter was coming from the TV.

Dandelions had a nasty taxonomy. They were wind-dispersed, able to fly up to sixty miles away from their parent plant, where they isolated and readily speciated. This was a large part of the reason why Flynn couldn’t appreciate them without every adult in an eighty-mile radius screaming it’s a weed!

By Sunday, Mom and Dad couldn’t be in the same room together without shouting.

By Wednesday, they wouldn’t speak to each other at all.

By Saturday, they started calling the divorce lawyer again.

That night before they went back to Arkansas, Flynn slept on his aunt and uncle’s couch. He could hear Mom and Dad talking in the guest room above. At indoor voice levels. He didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

The potted blood blossom sat on the end table atop Jack London.

He was woken up at two in the morning when something spritzed him in the face like he was a cat. Flynn squinted in the darkness for what it could be and was immediately spritzed again. He wiped the spray off his face and jolted at the sight of a red smear on his wrist.

A faint hiss was coming from the end table. Flynn watched as the blood blossom emitted a quiet red steam into the air.

He looked around the room nervously. Then he looked out the front window.

At the very end of the street, between the buildings, there was a faint green glow that looked very much like Uncle Jack’s pictures.

Well, of course dandelions were weeds. When something survived too well, humans inevitably got all up in their business, trying to trammel them in. It was a weed because it didn’t cooperate with that.

Flynn didn’t need to pack his bag; he had already loaded everything from the trip back in, but he added some more anyway. He got a knife, a frying pan, and a BIC lighter out of the kitchen. And of course, he took his book and the blood blossom.

Then he walked out the front door for the last time.

It was a muggy July night, and all the lights in the windows were out. The streetlamps pooled in the road. The green light creeped into the alleyway on tiptoe.

Flynn stood before a hole in the world and found himself alone. The hole didn’t appear to properly occupy the alley. It looked like a bad photoshop in person. Just standing a foot away from it, he could feel the static electricity. It felt like it was ruffling his hair in a gesture of approval.

There was a deep hum that might have been the portal, or the flies buzzing around it, or Flynn’s heart getting ready to tear itself from his chest in excitement or fear. He did not know which.

The blood blossom was beginning to overflow its mason jar with red condensation. Flynn poured it out onto the ground. It mixed with the dank puddles in the mundane depressions of the concrete that, absurdly, continued to exist in the presence of something so otherworldly.

Flynn reached through the portal. It felt like cold water — strange, but not icy enough to be unpleasant.

This was what he needed. Something he didn’t know, somewhere his parents couldn’t find him. He could find shelter with those familiar spirits for a little while, and his blood blossom would protect him as his parents looked for him, and then he would come back and they would be so happy and angry to see him that they wouldn’t talk about the divorce again for another year at least, and it would be nice, and it would just be so nice, it would just be so nice when he got back.

And then the light consumed his vision.

...

Twelve years later.

“Jazz? Did you just come through the portal?” Danny squinted at the readout on the specter speeder — the constant green light of the ghost zone made it hard to read at times.

“No?” she said over the speeder’s radio. “I’m still in the lab, why?”

“Because the radar’s picking up signs of life.”

#danny phantom #flynn fenton #dp #dp fanfiction #this flynn goes off the-stove-is-on-fire's version of his backstory btw #flynn walker

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bus-stop-to-kpop · 3 years

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Laboratory of the Naturally Gifted [Subject 028 - Nakamoto Yuta]

Please read the [Prologue] first :)

Subject 028

Name: Nakamoto Yuta

Alias: -

Gender: Male

D.o.B.: October 26, 1995

Nationality: Japanese

Gift: Strength

-can crush heaviest materials

-gift becomes stronger even without exercise

~*~

"He has an appointment in the lab in an hour. I'd like it if you tagged along for that." She smiled while handing you the file on Subject 028. The picture on the file showed a friendly, young Japanese man. However the information given on him scared you a little.

The door was opened for you and you put on a confident face when entering the room. "Hello Yuta. I'm Y/N."

The man looked up from his book and smiled upon seeing you. "Hello there." He closed the book and stood up from his bed to walk over to you. Yuta held out his hand for you to shake and even though you weren't sure if you should shake it, his smile convinced you he was a very nice person.

The handshake surprised you. His touch was very soft and gentle, not what you would have expected from a person gifted with inhumane strength.

"Come sit with me!" Yuta exclaimed, pulling out a chair for you at the table in his room. You thanked him and sat down.

"What book are you reading?" You questioned, pointing to the book he had left on the bed. "Oh this? It's just some Japanese poetry." Yuta went to get the book and laid it on the table in front of you, so that you could look through it. It had a pattern. A poem on the right page and a picture of a location in Japan on the left.

"It's really pretty. Do you like poetry Yuta?" "I don't hate it. I love this book but it's more for the pictures than the poetry." He sighed. You let out an understanding hum. "You must miss Japan, right?" "Of course! After all it's where my family is." You nodded.

Yuta took the book from you "Do you want me to read to you?" "I don't know Japanese, but go for it if you want to." You smiled at him. Yuta picked out a few poems that he read to you. He also translated them so that you could understand what they were about and he explained how the pictures on the left page were related to the poem.

After a knock on the door Yuta went quiet. The door was opened by a tall, bald man. "It's time for your examination!" The man spoke. Yuta sighed, laid the book down and stood up. What surprised you was when he positioned himself in front of the guard, with his back facing him and he held his hands behind his back. The guard brought out shackles and put them on his wrists. "Are those really necessary?" Yuta had complied so far, so why restraint him, besides if he had inhuman strength wouldn't he be able to break them? "It's fine." Yuta said with a light reassuring smile, but his eyes showed pain.

"Are you coming with me Y/N?" He looked at you with puppy dog eyes. "Um...s-sure!" you were a bit flustered by his behavior, but still angered by how he was treated.

The guard started to lead Yuta through the halls, always keeping his hand on Yuta's back as to make sure he wouldn't run away. Following the two of them you kept looking around carefully. There were a few other rooms around you, most weren't labeled, you guessed they were empty. Some had been labeled with names and subject numbers. 'Subject 033 - Hirai Momo', 'Subject 049 - Seo Changbin', 'Subject 047 - Chou Tzuyu' and 'Subject 043 - Kim Jungwoo' were only a few of the names you could read, before the three of you halted in front of a big sliding door.

It opened to let you in and you found yourself in a room that looked like a control center. People were walking around in lab coats, screens were showing various stats and there were a lot of little tubes filled with dark red liquid, which you assumed to be blood.

Another door was opened and the guard pushed Yuta inside. You were about to follow when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. "You are not allowed within that area. I must ask you to wait for Subject 028 right here." A woman spoke. She was wearing a lab coat and big goggles. "Oh, okay. I'm sorry." you apologized. The woman gave you a small smile and a nod before leading you to a big window through which you could see into the room that Yuta was in.

They had taken off his shackles and he was now laying on a hospital bed. Two women, dressed as nurses were standing beside him, one was getting a syringe ready. They drew some blood from the crook of Yuta's left arm. He didn't seem to like it as he looked away with a pained expression. The nurses were talking, but through the glass there was no way you would be able to understand what they were saying. One of them came to bring out a sample of Yuta's blood.

"Is Yuta okay?" You hurried to ask her. She eyed you with a strange look and didn't answer your question. Once again the doctor from before put her hand on your shoulder "Subject 028 is fine. We are just running a medical checkup on him." It was calming to hear that Yuta was okay.

A big truck came rolling into the room Yuta was in and loaded off an object made out of strange dark material. "What is that?" You asked the doctor who had taken a stand next to you at the window, clutching a clip board to her chest.

"It's a weight. This one is about 12.000 pounds." She said it so casually, but you almost choked on your own spit. "12.000 pounds?!" Yuta approached the weight and seemed to lift it with ease. Your eyes widened in shock but the doctor just hummed and scribbled notes down. She turned around and talked to someone "Tell them to bring in the 14.000 pound one!" She seemed excited as another truck loaded off a bigger weight. Yuta lifted it with ease. "Mhm. Astonishing. He struggled with that one last time but now he seems to be fine." The female doctor mumbled while walking off.

Yuta looked around the room for a while, he saw you standing at the window so he waved to you with a proud smile, though he did look a little exhausted. You waved back hesitantly, kind of intimidated now that you had seen him use his gift.

Once more they drew blood from Yuta, this time from his right arm. Before Yuta could leave the room he had to put the shackles back on.

The door opened and the guard was back on him immediately. You walked over to them. "Y/N. Did you see what I did there? Wasn't I totally cool?" The Japanese male asked excitedly. "Yeah~" Your voice trembled a bit but Yuta didn't seem to notice.

Again you were following Yuta and the guard through the halls. "Can we go see WinWin?" Yuta beamed at the guard as you passed an elevator, but he got ignored. Who was WinWin? You should ask him about that later.

When you arrived back at Yutas room, the lady that had partnered you with Yuta was waiting for you. "Y/N your work is done for today." she said in a strict tone and if she wouldn't have given you a small smile you would have believed she was angry.

"Is Y/N leaving already?" Yuta asked. "Yes but do not worry Subject 028. She will be back tomorrow. Right?" It threw you off that once again no one used Yuta's actual name. "Uh, yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." You smiled at Yuta and waved one last time before the lady led you away.

#nct #nct x reader #nct yuta #nct yuta x reader #nct au #nakamoto yuta #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop au #kpop superpower au #kpop nct #kpop scenarios #admin j

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365daysofsasuhina · 4 years

Text

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020 || Day Three: Don’t Laugh ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Orochimaru ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Like Magic ] [ AO3 Link ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

Another September...another year at Hogwarts.

Sitting in a train compartment with a few other Hufflepuffs she vaguely knows, Hinata mostly just daydreams about arriving at the school. Because despite the fact that she’s now a third year, Hinata has...well, very few friends. And with her nature as a wallflower, she’s often overlooked, anyway.

So, it’s mostly classes and learning that she enjoys during her time away from home. And, well...being away from home.

But she tries not to think about that.

Instead, her excitement grows the closer they get to the school. And by the time they make it to the carriages, she almost bounces on her seat after giving the thestral pulling it a greeting pat.

She’s always been able to see them.

...she has her mother to thank for that.

The Great Hall is just as she remembers it, as is the feast. Clapping for every new addition to her house, Hinata gives them shy smiles, reminiscing over how nervous she’d been before being Sorted. Her father had been hopeful for Ravenclaw, his own house.

But, as usual, Hinata disappointed him.

The common room of the Hufflepuff dormitory is lively that evening, Hinata sitting along the edge and watching with a smile as the new Puffs are given the grand tour. Bright-eyed and slack-jawed, it’s clear they’re just as in awe as she was.

But she turns in early, wanting to be on time for her first class in the morning. Excitement and wistfulness, she knows, will mean sleep will be hard to come by. All the same, Hinata closes her eyes and does her best to relax.

And next thing she knows...it’s morning! The first out of bed, she dresses and dashes for the hall to get her breakfast, looking over her schedule yet again.

Oddly enough, the first class of the day is Potions.

It brings about a duality in feeling. On one hand, it’s a useful class. Given she wants to be an Herbologist someday, knowing what many of the plants she’ll be working with are for is good knowledge to have. But, on the other hand...the professor scares her. A slippery, sharp-eyed person she still doesn’t know the gender of. All she does know is that Professor Orochimaru scares the living daylights out of her. Which, most days, makes learning in their class rather...difficult.

They’re also set to have said class as a double with the Slytherin third years. While Hinata does her best not to be biased, there’s a handful of them that, admittedly, give her a rather bad feeling.

Still...it’s a necessary evil, either way. She’ll make due. Nothing can beat down her determination to learn all she needs to know. Not even creepy teachers or jeering classmates.

So, once breakfast is over, she fetches her book, her cauldron, and her ingredients...and heads down down down into the castle dungeons for Potions.

Thankfully, she isn’t the first one there, nor the only Puff. They all give each other subtle, knowing glances. Even if they aren’t close friends, they’re still allies in this rather...unfortunate predicament.

Not long before the bell, the professor emerges from their office, looking them all over with thinly-veiled disdain, while a glance to their Slytherin students earns a thin-lipped smile. “Welcome, third years, to our first Potions lesson of the year. Luckily for you, we are to begin with a brewing. If you’ll open your books to page seven…”

With that, the lesson begins, and everyone follows along as the potion in question is detailed.

“Now, to encourage a little...cross-house friendliness, I want each of you to find a brewing partner outside your house. You will be graded on whichever potion turns out least favorable, so you must work together. Slytherins, I expect you to help your Hufflepuff colleagues.”

Several Puffs manage half-hearted glares at the obvious jab, but do as they’re told. Most pairs sit across from one another, clearly wanting to be as far apart as possible.

Hinata, finishing up her notes, finds herself to be one of the last without a partner until - of his own volition - one takes the other seat, making her jump.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hex you,” he drawls, setting down his things. “Are you Hufflepuffs always so on-edge?”

“I...I didn’t see you come over,” Hinata mumbles in explanation, turning a flustered pink. “...um...I’m Hinata,” she then offers. “Hinata...Hyūga.”

At that, his head snaps up, eyes wide. “...Hyūga?”

Oh dear, here we go. “Y...yes.”

“...pleasure. Sasuke Uchiha,” he greets, holding out a hand for her to gingerly shake. “I didn’t know there was a Hyūga in Hufflepuff.”

That gets her to shift a bit. “My, um...I have a cousin, he’s - he’s in Ravenclaw.”

“Neji, right? I’ve heard of him. Decent Chaser.”

“...you play Quidditch?”

“Team Seeker,” he replies with a smirk, clearly happy with his position.

“Oh...I-I don’t play, but um...I-I watch matches when I can. Mostly Neji’s and...my house’s.”

“Hufflepuff usually doesn’t fare well, does it?”

She quiets. “...I guess not. I...don’t pay the standings much mind. O-or houses. I just...keep to...myself…” Her tone fades to a somber silence.

To her surprise, Sasuke looks at her strangely, expression one she can’t read. “...it’s not for everyone,” he then replies nonchalantly. “What do you like, then?”

“Herbology!” At her sudden, loud reply, Hinata flushes pink again. “I-I mean...I like...herbology…”

“Never been much good with plants myself,” he replies, beginning to measure ingredients as Hinata fumbles to do the same. “I like Potions. Transfiguration isn't bad, either.”

“Charms is...is one I enjoy.”

“Not really my speed, but that’s all right.” Rifling through his bag, he then frowns. “...do you have a spare rat tail, by any chance? I could have sworn I brought one…”

“Um…” Fishing in her own, Hinata hands him one.

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“It - it’s fine.”

“Fair’s fair,” he counters, sounding resolute as he adds it.

A bit taken aback, Hinata watches him for a moment before smiling.

Maybe not all Slytherins are jerks.

They keep on for a time, double-checking one another’s work as they go. Sasuke’s right: he’s good at this, catching a few mistakes she nearly makes and making her blush in embarrassment every time. But for some reason he’s patient with her.

“All right, next is...powdered dragonfly chitin,” he notes, taking out a vial and unstopping it. “Apparently this makes it pretty volatile, so do it slowly, all right?”

Hinata nods, cautiously measuring the right amount and sprinkling it bit by bit into her cauldron. Small sparks fly every time it impacts, and she can’t help but flinch back.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Sasuke sneezes.

Right over the top of his spoon.

Causing the entire load to fall in at once.

With a flash, a cloud of smoke and sparks rises up from the brew, drawing every eye in the classroom, including the professor’s.

Wide-eyed, Hinata leans back as the din clears, Sasuke coughing and trying to wave it away.

...his eyebrows are gone.

Clearly completely unaware, he squints against the smell of burnt potion, face sooty. “...see what I mean?” he manages to note with another cough.

“S...Sasuke…?”

“What?”

“Your…?” She hesitantly points at her own brow.

Reaching up, Sasuke feels at his, slowing to a stop as he feels not hair, but smooth skin.

The entire dungeon is silent.

Looking to Hinata in equal surprise, he moves his hand to point to her. “Don’t...you dare...laugh.”

Staring, stupefied, Hinata only feels the urge as he speaks, drawing her lips between her teeth.

“Hyūga…”

Her head shakes.

“I’m warning you.”

“Given that your potion is now completely ruined, mister Uchiha,” Orochimaru then cuts in, “you might as well go the hospital wing for those little burns on your cheeks. And seeing as your partner is finished with a…” The Slytherin head of house leans over her cauldron, looking mildly impressed. “...adequate potion, I will average your grades...and she can accompany you to make sure you don’t blow anything else up on the way.”

Looking entirely annoyed, Sasuke clears his cauldron with a wave of his wand, packing up as Hinata bottles a sample to be fully graded, then doing the same and scurrying after him.

“You don’t need to escort me.”

“But...but the professor said -?”

“The professor can kiss my ass,” Sasuke growls, making Hinata stumble at the sudden coarse language. “It was the last step! We both had it perfect! I just -!”

“I-it’s okay! Maybe...maybe we can have a do-over, if...if we ask nicely?”

“Tch, fat chance of that.”

Chastised, Hinata nonetheless keeps up, giving him the occasional glance. His face is still smudged with soot, but...she can’t take her eyes off his bare brows.

“Something funny?”

“N-no! I...I’m sorry that happened...do your cheeks hurt?”

“...a bit. I’ll be fine. Five minutes in the hospital wing and I’ll be right as rain. Maybe I’ll even get my eyebrows back.”

Before she can stop it, Hinata looses a snort.

“...I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m sorry, it just s-slipped out!”

To her surprise, then does the same. “It’s fine, Hyūga. At least you know what I meant about the chitin now, right?”

“Y...yeah.”

Thankfully they take Sasuke right in, and Hinata - not knowing what else to do until the period ends - lingers awkwardly outside until he’s released.

And with both eyebrows, to boot.

“You didn’t have to wait.”

“Well, um...I-I didn’t want to go back,” she admits sheepishly.

“Me neither. Think I’ll just get a head start to my next class.”

“That’s...a good idea.”

Glancing to her thoughtfully, Sasuke offers, “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hyūga.”

That gets her to jolt a bit in surprise. “I...yes! I...I guess you will.”

“And I won’t lose my eyebrows next time.”

Her lips curl before she thinks to hide them behind a sleeve cuff.

Smirking back at her, he gives a mock salute. “Later, Hyūga.”

“...bye!” Waving as he retreats, Hinata checks her schedule. Transfiguration next, single class. Hopefully this one is a bit less...eventful.

...but...well, maybe she’s finally making a friend.

And a Slytherin, to boot.

...well, so much for my doing these in decent time xD Here it is almost two am and I’m just posting...whoops. Annnywho, some Harry Potter verse! With a shy Puff Hinata and a smug Slytherin Sasuke because of course. F in the chat for Sasuke’s eyebrows. Not gonna lie, this was fun to write xD I like this crossover, so I’ll try to do more of it if any further prompts make sense for it. But on that note, I had a long day, so I’m gonna call it a night~ Thanks for reading, lovelies!

#sasuhinabigflash2020 #shbf2020 #sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #orochimaru #like magic [ au ]

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mewts-guide · 3 years

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PTAVVS & GOLDEN CIRLCE

Ptavvs:

When I began writing Ptavvs, (the first track to my two track EP) I was maybe five chapters or so into the novel.

So before I begin with the breakdown of the novel and how it inspired me, I have to fill you in on some thing first.

Three days before I began reading, I had actually asked a girl out on a date.

… I was definitely excited because I had known her for some time already and never really went for it because, well to put it simply, I was always busy and my focus was never really on girls.

The day of our date rolls around and without really thinking about it I grabbed Larry Nivens, World of Ptavvs off my book shelf and went on my way. I was 15 minutes early and so the best thing I could have done was bring the book with me, because now I had something to do while I waited.

No biggie.

After some time, maybe nine or ten pages in, I looked up, searching for said date, checking the time.

Time was cutting close to the time we had agreed on.

Nothing.

I figured that she was running late or something, looking for excuses really, to keep myself from feeling like a moron.

Nothing.

After about thirty minutes of waiting, I decided that was long enough and just made my way home.

Sucks right??

No worries though, I had a feeling it wasn’t going to happen anyway and I knew what I was getting myself into so I didn’t bother beating myself up over it.

I sat under the patio, comfortable with my new friend, Larry Niven and this wonderful novel I was beginning to enjoy.

Before you go any further down, I just want to mention this next section will contain spoilers regarding The World of Ptavvs.

That night I went out with a good friend and of course we did some heavy drinking.

When I got home, my laptop was open and ready for whatever session I had been working on the previous days before.

The session was a joke I had been working on because I wanted to convince my friend that I could make tech house the way I liked it. But I had been struggling so much to make it work, but I sat anyways and began to mess around with some sounds and to my surprise I was able to put something together that blew drunk me out of this world!

Of course this happened in maybe an hour or so and there really wasn’t much of a structure other than what I had but I was definitely enjoying what I now had compared to what was there before.

I called it a night and went to bed.

The next morning I woke up and jumped on Ableton and surprised that what I had wrote down still sounded as good and exciting as I had heard it the night before! I was so excited I made a quick arrangement and exported it out to post it on SoundCloud so my friend could hear what a masterpiece I had put together in my stupor.

The first thing that came to my mind was Ptavvs.

My copy of Larry Nivens, World of Ptavvs has a neat little illustration on the back cover of the book, with blaring text that demands attention, “GET OUT OF MY MIND!”

That alone resonated through me and I was so interested in much more the novel could offer me and as I said before, I was only a few chapters into the novel.

So I continued reading.

If you have not read the novel, go read it. If you don’t have any interest in the novel and just want to know the story behind the song, then continue.

Early into the book, things go south for our main character (an alien being pretty much takes over his mind and the minds of many others in an experiment gone wrong but in the process the aline also shares a mind with the main character, so they both become on sin the same) and there’s this small portion where our main characters wife, though not present at the time of the failed experiment, feels that something has gone terribly wrong and sense the danger her husband is now in.

So she takes action and head down to the laboratory only to find that her worst fears are true and that feeling she held inside her the night before, was correct.

Reading this excited me because though the nature of this book and the topic of it is between man and alien in a struggle between minds, it was interesting to see the insight that our female character also picked up on these readings of course its just SCIFI and anything is possible but it was an interesting note to take that the author deliberately made this a pivotal moment to add spice and realism to the book in that sense.

The relationship our main character has with his wife was somewhat strange but it was the most human thing in the novel that I could relate with.

Im taking both side of the main characters wife and the Thrint Alien, who in a sense has also lost his ability to maintain healthy state of mind, because let’s face it, in this novel, the alien is our very human main character, Larry.

Let’s talk about our other main character, the Thrint alien. The bad guy, I guess in this novel.

I’m not sure if I could really say he was the antagonist because the situation he was put in, really the entire time it seemed like he was reacting to a threat, because he had never faced a species with mental capabilities as a human and the entire time his survival or at least the upper hand he was over humanity is some sort of mental shield that will protect him from incoming mental psych abilities.

(if I haven’t convinced you enough this far down to go and read the novel for yourself, please at least go and read the synopsis or a brief overview of the novel.)

So, Thrint Alien has met a powerful foe: a human.

And the entire time you are reading the story from the Thrint’s point of view, he is shocked, absolutely stunned by powerful human emotions.

Reading his comments on nicotine addiction, hunger, depression, sadness and even restlessness really brought joy to me because I was listening to someone who was feeling for the very first time human emotion!

WOW did that drive!

I had to dedicate this song to this wonderful piece of work.

But what does this say about me? Or the human race?

I’m not sure…

I think the strange thing about life, is the longer you go the more you know, but knowledge isn’t that easy to pass on, not in plain terms at least.

We can often put mental barriers up when people are tying to help us.

We can often lower our defenses when people are trying to hurt us.

We can fall in love one day and hate the next.

We often do this to ourselves!

We do a lot of strange things and I would even say the way we react to these emotions is the same as our Thrint Alien in the novel.

I want to express these ideas and feelings with people without causing them alarm.

I wasn’t bothered too much about the failed date but I think it would sort of seep in and my voice really came through with the, “I’ve got nothing..” sample.

This is what motivated me to incorporate the samples that were used in the final version of the song.

I wanted people to feel that connection or to at least understand what I’m trying to say with the song.

#science fiction #science-fiction #larry niven #music #books #novels #emotions

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cautious-creation · 3 years

Text

“Ensign.” “Commander.”

Fandom & Character: Star Trek:Voyager, Commander Chakotay

Pairing(s): Chakotay x 1st person female y/n

Word/page count: 3300ish words, 3.5 pages

CW/TW: fluff, superior officer x subordinate relationship, past loss of a grandparent, discussion of grief, power dynamic

Summary: an ensign and her commander fall in love in the Delta quadrant

“Ensign.” he walked into the lab, holding what I assumed was the information I needed,

”Commander?” it didn’t make much sense for him to come down to the lab to deliver it. He looked up from the data and gave me a smile in greeting, which put me at ease; at least there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. I returned the smile.

“I’ve got that data from Seven.” he handed me the data.

“Thank you, sir,” I turned in my seat back to my work station, “you really didn’t need to come down here, I was about to head to astrometrics.” he leaned against the work station beside me, looking at another information pad he’d brought with him.

“Captain’s in command and I needed a break from the bridge. I’ve heard about how quiet it is down here this time of day.” he dismissed.

“That’s why I prefer this shift, sir.” he paused from his work, looking at me.

“You don’t need to be so formal, ensign. After two years stuck in the delta quadrant together I’d think we could all benefit from being a little more casual.” I chuckled.

“I’ll try. It’s become a bit of a habit. Early in my starfleet career I was told I had a tendency to speak a little too casually, particularly with senior officers. I had to… re-train… myself. I seemed to have unintentionally made a few officers feel disrespected.” I smiled, reminiscing.

He nodded in agreement, “I’ve always found it a little problematic, some senior officers seem to use it to stroke their egos.” I laughed,

“That was part of my problem.” he laughed with me. “I understand why it’s necessary, but some people take it too far and it gets in the way of strong relationships being formed by the crew.” he smiled, seeming to admire my perspective.

“I’m glad I came down here. I think we could have some very interesting conversations.”

I nodded “I think so too.”

He pushed off of the work bench, “I need to head back to the bridge, good luck with that assessment, ensign.” he headed for the door, giving a nod for farewell.

“Thank you… commander.” he gave me a smirk as he walked out the door. I grinned, turned back to my console to put that luck to use.

“Well, my professor for xenosociology seemed to have a burning hatred for students like me, who actually question things, so I decided to move to xenobiology and that ended up expanding out to botany, neurology, anatomy, I almost took a psychology course. That professor made me never want to take a sociology course again, and yet, I still keep on looking into it myself.” Chakotay and I both smiled fondly at the memories of our respective experiences at Starfleet academy.

“Considering the horror stories I’ve heard from some of my Maquis friends, I had smooth sailing through my days at the academy. Sociology is fascinating, but I’ve always loved anthropology.”

“Anything else for you two?” Neelix came past our table, gathering our used dishes. It was something he tends to do when he’s trying to ‘subtly’ listen in on people’s conversations. He’d been doing it a lot when Chakotay and I had meals together.

“I’m alright thanks.” I looked at Chakotay, he shook his head,

“Thank you, Neelix.” Neelix gave a small nod and left the table.

I waited for Neelix to leave earshot before I spoke again.

“I think he might be spying on us.” I leaned forward and spoke in a playful whisper.

He chuckled “I’ve been told that our… association has become a subject of gossip among the crew.”

We smiled at each other.

“Well, aren’t they presumptuous.” he shook his head in amusement looking down at the table.

When he looked up, our gazes locked on one another. Everything around us seemed to go quiet. I tilted my head to the side, a furrowed brow and slight smile on my face. He’s a handsome man, charming too. So kind and gentle, righteous, patient. A good man.

Subconsciously, my hand dragged along the table until the backs of my fingers touched the back of his hand. He hooked his index finger over mine. It was practically a ‘pinky swear’. Just that little bit of physical contact felt like so much. It was a good feeling. I looked down at our hands and sighed.

“Are you alright?” his question drew my gaze back to his now concerned expression. I gave a lazy smile and slowly nodded.

“I just… “ I decided to take a risk, “Why don’t we have dinner in my quarters this evening? There’s a family recipe I’ve been meaning to try and I could use the excuse to finally do it.” a small, thoughtful frown crossed his face as he looked at our hands.

“No obligation, commander. Just an option. I’ve put it off this long, and the recipe isn’t going anywhere.” I spoke softly.

“Actually, I was just thinking about timing. My shift ends at twenty hundred hours, yours starts at… oh three hundred?” I nodded, “That doesn’t give you much time to sleep.” his concern was sweet.

“I can manage with four to five hours.”

He beamed at me “Then, ensign, I accept your invitation.”

I smiled. I couldn’t deny I was excited for this dinner. All our meals so far had been in the mess hall. I’d started to get uncomfortable with all the glances we’d get. Perhaps it’s a bit odd for an ensign and a ship’s first officer to spend so much time together, or to be so close with one another; but it’s not as if we’d been doing anything unsavoury and definitely nothing that would go against regulations. Little goes unnoticed on a ship like this and whatever gossip may be circulating is milked dry very quickly; any new material is quickly scavenged upon. I didn’t want to risk Chakotay’s reputation or even his position. Nothing unbecoming a Starfleet officer.

It would be nice to spend some off duty time together away from prying eyes. We’d come to enjoy each other’s company, and Chakotay was right, our conversations were quite interesting.

He was taking a sip of his coffee when Tuvok called him to the bridge. He excused himself, saying he’d see me later, I wished him luck on the bridge and went back to the novel I’d been reading. Neelix came by soon after Chakotay left, not-so-subtly prying into the nature of our relationship. I played dumb, not falling for any of his sneaky questions. It was amusing to watch him getting progressively more frustrated, my form of justice for his intrusion.

I spent that afternoon napping and cooking. At nineteen hundred hours I showered and changed out of my uniform. I couldn’t decide what to wear so I ended up putting on a fresh uniform, sans jacket. I spent probably more energy than I ought to on decisions like what tablecloth to use, candles or no candles, wine or no wine and I decided to only dim the lights slightly. I didn’t want to push it, we hadn’t defined the nature of our relationship, I’d prefer to go too platonic than too romantic.

Five minutes after twenty hundred hours my doorbell chimed and Chakotay presented me with a bottle of wine.

“Oh, fantastic. I couldn’t decide if I should open a bottle.” he smiled and I stepped aside to let him in. He’d clearly just come from the bridge. His uniform made him look quite dapper, but I could tell he was fatigued from his duty shift.

“So, what’s this family recipe you’ve been so excited about? It smells amazing.” he approached the dishes of food on the table.

“How about you sort out the wine while I dish up?” I handed him the bottle and a corkscrew, then moved to the table to give him the story.

“My great aunt gave me instructions for green beans, creamed spinach and butternut puree. The bread is my paternal grandfather’s sourdough recipe; a lot of research and development went into that one; and my uncle taught us the trick of dipping bread in a shallow bowl of balsamic vinegar and olive oil. There’s a tradition that I think my dad started, to fry or grill sticks of halloumi cheese and season them with lemon.” Chakotay had poured the wine and sat in the chair opposite me. I placed a plate in front of him and sat down to mine.

“It might not be the most cohesive meal but together it reminds me of home.” there was a pause, an unprompted moment of silence for those we were so far away from.

He lifted his glass, “To… our families back home, and the one we have right here on Voyager.” I smiled. The crisp sound of the glasses touching split the hum of the ship for a moment. Such a beautifully wholesome sentiment.

“How’s the bridge, commander?” I tore some bread and dipped it into the oil vinegar mix.

“The bridge is just fine, ensign. No alien contact, no helm challenges, refreshingly quiet. How about the lab?” he took a forkful of butternut.

“We’ve been getting some momentum on that analysis. Surprisingly, there’s been a lot of data to sift through. The sample turned out to be far more interesting than we thought it would be.” he nodded,

“That’s good news.” I took a sip of my wine, “Now, enough about work. How’s life?”

I chuckled, “Life is work and work is life here on Voyager, commander.” he shook his head, amused.

‘Ensign’ and ‘commander’ had become our pet names for each other, an inside joke that he and I shared. With all the prying ears and eyes it was fun to have something they didn't understand, and it helped us to seem more professional with each other for the sake of those concerned or bothered by the relationship Chakotay and I had developed.

“I’m glad we could have dinner without spectators for once.” I nodded, agreeing. It had started to feel invasive.

“It’s kind of unsettling to have everyone watching and listening to us. I get that it’s a small ship but surely that doesn’t mean we’re no longer allowed at least a little bit of privacy.”

“You’d think a crew of Starfleet officers would have a little more discretion than this.”

I scoffed playfully, “at least we haven’t been getting much commentary from our colleagues.”

“The captain said something this morning,” I frowned

“She did?” he nodded

“It wasn’t about us specifically, but the implication was there.”

“What did she say?”

“Something along the lines of being sensitive to the consequences of specific relationships within the crew, considering that we’ll all be stuck with each other on Voyager for a long time to come.”

“I’m impressed, an approach like that to a situation like this takes a lot of finesse on the captain’s part. But I’m not surprised, we’re ‘stuck’ out here with one of the wisest Starfleet captains I know.” He nodded. I could see how he admired her.

“I can’t think of another captain who would’ve been able to keep Voyager going this long out here in the Delta quadrant.” I agreed.

“You know who else’s work out here has been exemplary?” I decided to lighten the mood, “Harry Kim. If it was up to me he’d be a full fledged lieutenant by now.” Chakotay seemed amused,

“His work has been exemplary.” The sentiment was sincere.

“You haven’t done too badly yourself, commander.” His smile was small and bashful.

There was a moment or two of silence and we continued eating.

“You must’ve used a week of replicator rations on this.” he sat on the couch, taking the mug of tea I handed him.

“Only two days, actually. The beans and spinach were from the airponics bay. I used some of a weird bulbous vegetable Neelix had in storage to stretch the butternut I replicated and he had some Talaxian spices close enough to imitate cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. I replicated the flour for the bread but yeast was a bit more difficult to get my hands on. The halloumi I had to replicate.”

“What about the lemon juice?” I chuckled.

“Six months into Neelix’s cooking I decided we needed some citrus so I grafted cuttings of about five different plants. We’ve ended up with limes, lemons, grapefruit, blood orange and an oddly bitter variety of Bolian tangerine. Neelix seems to get quite excited whenever I tell him the franken-tree has yielded another fruit. Which is rare because of how small it still is. Fortunately, citrus keeps well. The lemon I used tonight was in storage for about a month and a half.” Chakotay smiled.

“I think that citrus franken-tree is one of your greatest achievements yet in terms of crew morale.” I chuckled,

“It’s definitely been one of the more challenging undertakings I’ve had while on Voyager.”

“You put a lot of effort into this meal.” I shrugged,

“I couldn’t have done it without Neelix’s help.” I frowned, “And it’s something I’d been needing to do for myself, a little bit of self-care. I’m glad I could share it with someone.” I looked up at him. I was glad that I had him to share the experience with.

“I’m honoured to have been allowed to share this meal with you.” His sincere smile put me at ease. I placed my mug of tea on the coffee table in front of me and leaned back into the couch.

“I’ve been missing home a lot recently. I guess the anniversary of my grandmother’s death hit me harder than I expected.” he took my hand in his,

“You could have said something.” I responded to his concerned expression with a sad smile and looked down at our joined hands.

“I wanted to try working through it myself. I thought it would last a couple of days and I’d be back to normal.” my gaze became distant as I thought back

“Her leg of lamb stew was legendary. Not even my aunt could recreate it. She’d been cooking it on the day she died.” a small forlorn crease grazed my brow, “Two months after she died, I think it was on her birthday, it was taken out of cold storage and we all sat down to eat the last meal she ever made. It was… almost like a last goodbye. There was such a finality to that meal. I was only nine years old.” a single tear ran down my cheek, Chakotay gave my hand a comforting squeeze, “Her death changed my whole world view.”

“In what way?” His gentle question refocused my gaze. I shook my head slightly.

“I don’t remember.” It was true, but I knew for certain that I wouldn’t have grown into the person I had become if it wasn’t for her influence on my life, as well as the influence of her death.

“She meant a lot to you. I’m not surprised things didn’t just go back to normal for you after two days.” I smiled fondly and sighed, looking up and seeing his caring expression,

“Thank you for having this dinner with me.” he smiled softly,

“Of course. I’m glad I did.”

We sat for a while, my thoughts starting to gather again.

“A while back I programmed a traditional malva pudding recipe into the replicator data banks, well, our family recipe. Would you care for a piece?”

“I have no idea what it is, but I’m willing to try it.” I chuckled, getting up and heading to the replicator.

“It’s a traditional South African dish. My version is a bit different from what you’d find described in an historical database,” I sat back down with two plates of the syrup laced pound cake type dessert.

“Usually it’s served with custard or ice cream, but I think that just dulls the flavour.” one bite and a smile spread onto my face.

“I haven’t ever had anything like this. You’ll have to give me the recipe.” I shook my head.

“Sorry, commander, that’s a family secret.” he chuckled.

“I might just have to order you to, ensign.” I laughed at him.

“Good luck with that, Chakotay.” it was a little startling to both of us to hear me call him by name, before that, I never had. That sounds bizarre, but it’s true.

“Chakotay,” it still sounded odd, my plate made a thud against the coffee table “I think we need to talk about some things.” he nodded, placing his plate down beside mine.

I took a deep breath. My chest tightened in anxiety. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I knew we needed to address some things about our relationship but I feel like I couldn’t quite describe them.

“I… “ I looked down trying to find the words, “we need to discuss… ‘us’, the nature of our relationship. What we… want out of this relationship, where we see it progressing. How we respond to the crew and commanding officers about… this.” he held my fidgeting hands in his and flashed me a soft, concerned smile.

“Well, I believe we’ve come to be close friends.” the smile that responded tried to hide my slight disappointment, “But, as for what I see in the future of our relationship… “ he looked down at our hands, “That’s a little more… sensitive.”

I gave an empathetic smile and chuckled, “I know the feeling.”

He sighed. “I care about you, a lot.”

“And I you.” I gave a small smile.

“I’d absolutely be happy to continue as friends,” he locked eye contact, searching for my thoughts, “but I’d hoped we could work towards a romantic relationship.” I grinned. I couldn’t describe the relief that I felt.

“Me too.” he beamed back at me and almost seemed to blush.

One of his hands released mine and came to the side of my face, my now free hand lay on his chest, beside his neck, against the undershirt exposed by his unfastened jacket. The warmth of his body against my skin brought a slight flush to my face. His thumb padded over my cheek. My fingers fiddled with the pips on his collar.

I looked up at his handsome face, his gentle, calming eyes focused on mine. My fingers itched to trace along the lines gracing the skin around his left brow bone, cheek bone and temple. He was frustratingly close to me. I so badly wanted to reach out and touch those dimples that smiled at me. His eyes enthralled me.

I took another risk, letting my other hand rise to meet his face, the tips of my fingers lightly dragged along his tattoo. He seemed to sigh into my touch, which made a contented smile cross my face. My heart fluttered, I felt so peaceful.

“I don’t think you’ve told me, why the tattoo?” he smiled.

“My father. He wore it to honour our culture, I wear it to honour him.” my heart swelled.

“That’s so pure.” he chuckled bashfully. I gave him a thoughtful smile.

“You’re a good guy, Chakotay.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before today. I like the way it sounds when you do.” it was my turn to blush.

“Chakotay, what are we gonna do about this?” I chuckled. My palm settled against his cheek.

“Well, what I would like to do about it, is to kiss you.” how suave, I’d been smiling every few seconds that evening, now was no exception.

“I’m not quite there yet, Chakotay.” I liked the way it sounded too, “I hope this can tide you over for now.” I leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll hold out for you.” he took my face in his hands and gave an equally gentle kiss to my forehead. My hands rested on his shoulders. A gleeful smile spread across my lips.

#Star Trek #Star Trek:Voyager #Chakotay #commander chakotay #fanfiction #fanfic

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ashiversary · 4 years

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If We're Honest - Chapter 3

Read the full fic on ao3!

It was a testament to how little Blanche knew Candela that they did not see this coming.

Blanche stared at the restaurant, which was one of the most upscale in Opal City, with dismay. The patrons glittered in suits and floor-length gowns with diamonds and sipped the most expensive wines the city had to offer. “I am not dressed for this,” Blanche said as Candela took their arm and steered them through the door.

“Don’t worry, darling, they know me here,” Candela replied. This was not reassuring, as Candela was wearing a red silk gown with a plunging neckline and golden six-inch heels. Rubies glimmered at her ears and throat, and a series of gold bangles covered her wrists. She was stunning. Blanche could not believe she kept red-carpet attire in a gym bag in her car.

They considered it extremely discourteous of her to not warn them. Or give them the chance to stop by their apartment to change into a suit.

The only comfort was that Spark hadn’t changed either, and was still in his orange tank and leather jacket.

“Candy, I thought we were going to a steakhouse!” Spark complained as Candela spoke to the hostess.

“This is a steakhouse! Yes, I have a reservation for three,” Candela said when the hostess asked.

“Just because steaks are on the menu does not make it a steakhouse,” Blanche said. Spark sent them a grateful look for taking his side, and the sense of camaraderie made Blanche feel slightly better.

Candela did not reply, and Spark and Blanche were forced to follow her and the hostess through the restaurant to the table. It was covered by a snow-white tablecloth and crystal wine glasses. Spark went to pull out Candela’s chair, which pleased her, but Blanche made sure to sit down before Spark could repeat the gesture for them. No thank you.

Their little group attracted some curious and amused glances, which was no surprise given that Candela was the only one dressed appropriately for the venue. Blanche did their best to ignore the attention as they unfolded their pristine white cloth napkin and draped it over their lap. Despite their efforts, their face and chest grew hot and sweaty at the sound of nearby laughter. It was a couple on a date who weren’t even looking in their direction, but it felt like their amusement was directed at Blanche regardless.

It could have been worse, they knew. At least Spark was in the same boat as them. He whined to Candela for misleading him about where they were going to eat, and she smirked in reply. She seemed to enjoy being the best dressed person at the table. Blanche could deal with agents of chaos, but they liked to have some warning that was what they were dealing with.

As Spark flipped his menu open, he grumbled, “They probably don’t even have chicken tenders here.”

Blanche had to stifle a laugh as they were reminded of their twin, whose tastes leaned toward juvenile.

Candela grimaced. “Definitely not. But they do have steak!” She helped Spark by flipping to the appropriate page of his menu. “Ribs too, see?”

Appeased for the moment, Spark scanned the page for his choices while Candela ordered a bottle of wine for the table. Red, of course.

Blanche scanned their own menu and winced at the prices. They had been a research assistant for the last few years, and that had not been a high-paying job. Spark must be able to read their face, because he leaned into their space while Candela was busy chatting with the server about the day’s specials. “I can cover ya, if ya want,” Spark whispered.

Blanche flushed. They could make it work with their finances. It just would have been easier if they hadn’t moved from a different region recently. “It’s all right. I’ll manage.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. Candy comes from money, so she forgets about this stuff. It’s not payday yet. Let me cover you.”

Ugh, he had such a reassuring smile. “I’ll pay you back later.” They hoped he would not argue. Soulmate or not, they did not know him well enough to accept freebies yet.

“Sure thing!”

This arrangement did make them feel better, and they were able to choose a tasty-looking seafood dish without too much guilt. Spark ordered his steak, along with vegetables and an extra side of potatoes. Blanche couldn’t imagine attempting to eat that much food at once, but Candela acted as if this were normal.

The table lapsed into silence, and Blanche felt that they ought to say something to incite conversation. After all, they were the new person being integrated into an established friendship (Blanche wasn’t sure about thinking of either of them as more than that yet). “So, Candela, were you born in Opal?” Blanche asked, fishing for a safe topic.

Something flickered across her face that told them that this topic might not have been as safe as they had thought. However, before they could apologize and backtrack, she smiled. “Oh, not at all! I’ve lived here for a couple years now, but I was born in Unova.”

“I see.” Blanche had never been to Unova and was curious about what kind of pokemon Candela saw growing up. But there was a strange tension in the air, so they weren’t sure it would be right to ask.

Spark, however, felt no such restraint. “Candy’s got four older brothers!” He grinned as he said it. “Can ya believe it? I’m an only child, so I can’t imagine.”

“It sounds boisterous,” Blanche replied.

Candela waved a hand. “It certainly was! It’s much quieter now that they don’t talk to me.”

Oh. Despite her flippant tone, there was pain in her eyes. “May I ask?” She didn’t have to tell them if she didn’t want to, but they would like to know the source of her pain if she was comfortable sharing it with them.

She sighed and drummed her fingers on the table before she picked up her wine and took a generous sip. “It was stupid, really.”

“I’m sure it isn’t stupid, if it caused you pain,” Blanche murmured.

Candela sent them a grateful look. “Thank you, darling. But how it happened was stupid.” She sighed and tapped the side of her wine glass. “Spark knows the story. My family has a long history tied to Moltres. It’s kind of like our guardian legendary. The tradition is that the oldest child will form a bond, which is like this telepathic connection, with Moltres. It was supposed to be my oldest brother Lucifel next, but I encountered Moltres while walking home one night. It recognized my bloodline and formed the bond.” She sighed again.

“And that’s bad?” Blanche asked.

Candela shrugged. “My parents were furious. In their mind, I usurped tradition and stole my brother’s birthright. It didn’t matter that I didn’t do it on purpose. I was a bad and rebellious daughter who brought shame to the family. Everyone stopped talking to me, even my Grandma. Eventually I couldn’t take it and moved in with my cousin in Alola. Her family is much less traditional than mine. One way or another, I ended up here.”

Spark reached out to rub her bare shoulder. She leaned into the touch and managed a small smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put a dampener on our date.”

“It’s no problem, Candy. Don’t worry about it.”

The server came back with their meals, offering fresh ground pepper before disappearing to serve the next table. Blanche sampled their seafood pasta and was very pleased - it was delicious, with just the right amounts of butter and garlic.

Blanche didn’t want to detract from Candela’s story, but now seemed like a good time to mention Articuno.

“I do know about bonds with legendaries,” Blanche said. Both of the others looked at them in surprise, though Candela recovered first and took advantage of Spark’s inattention to steal a bite of his steak. Blanche ignored this and continued. “While I was travelling around Kanto and Johto with Professor Oak, I encountered Articuno.”

“And it bonded with you?” Spark asked with far more excitement than Blanche thought that the situation warranted. He shook Candela’s shoulder. “Did you hear that, Candy? Can you believe it?”

“Right?” Candela said around another stolen bite of steak. “Three for three. What are the odds, Sparky?”

“I beg your pardon?” Blanche was missing some context.

“Sparky here is bonded with Zapdos!” Candela said, laughing, draping an arm around Spark’s shoulders and pointing to his face.

“Are you joking?” Blanche wanted to make sure. They weren’t always the best at catching on to jokes.

“Nope! Met it at the power plant with my Uncle when I was a kid. Been together ever since.”

Blanche looked between them. They could understand the other two’s mirth now. What were the chances of the three of them being soulmates, team leaders of the Go Program, and bonded to Kanto’s titans? “Unbelievable.” Was all they could think to say.

“I know!” Spark said.

“Well, eat up, you two,” Candela said. “The food is getting cold.”

The date was very relaxed after that, enough so that Blanche forgot to be self conscious that they weren’t dressed appropriately for the venue. The wine made them all tipsy. Spark and Candela tried to talk Blanche into coming to Spark’s apartment to play Super Smash Bros, but Blanche wasn’t comfortable with that yet and ended up taking a taxi home. Once there, they kicked off their shoes and flopped face down on their bed until morning.

The next day, the soulmate bond between the team leaders seemed to be all anyone could talk about. By lunch Blanche was both annoyed and flustered by all the people congratulating them and the shy approaches from young interns asking if the rumours were true. It didn’t help that interest kicked up several notches when Spark and Candela showed up at lunch with grins and sandwiches.

Blanche accepted their invitation to a picnic with a sigh.

“Aw, Blanche, we’re gonna think you aren’t happy to see us,” Spark teased as they settled into a small courtyard outside Mystic Headquarters.

Blanche was squinting at their sandwich with suspicion. It was somehow their favourite, despite the fact that they had no recollection of telling Spark what kind of sandwiches they liked. They hadn’t been so drunk the night before as to have forgotten something like that. “Did Annie tell you what sandwiches I like?” they wondered out loud, for that was the only explanation they could think of. As their assistant, Annie was almost always around. She would have picked up on their tastes.

Spark’s expression turned sheepish, and he shook his head. “Um, no, about that…” he began, and Blanche turned their suspicious squint from the sandwich to him. Candela choked on her apple juice as she laughed, and Spark waved a hand. “No, no, it’s nothing weird! I just, y’know, happened to run into Noire, so I asked.”

That didn’t clear things up. “How did you run into Noire?”

“Well, they dropped by Instinct - like, literally, through the ceiling - to steal some rare pokemon eggs. I recognized ‘em as your sib, so, y’know, once I’d thwarted their plans I asked.”

Candela laughed harder. “Darling, you’re so weird,” she sighed. “You captured a Rocket exec just to interrogate them about Blanche’s food preferences?”

“Well, sure,” Spark said. “Why not?”

Blanche put their face in their hands. They could not believe Noire had not called to laugh at them about their soulmate being a major dork. In fairness, Noire was also a major dork.

“Anyway, they’re coming over tonight so I can wreck their ass in Mario Kart. Wanna join?” Spark continued.

Blanche supposed they could not complain about Noire and Spark getting along if this fledgling potential relationship was to work out. But goodness it was awkward.

“Oh, I’d love to come,” Candela said, getting her laughter under control. Her smile glittered dangerously, and there was no doubt she would also love to kick Noire’s butt at Mario Kart. “I have to pay them back for messing with my team, don’t I?” She leaned over to wrap her free arm around Blanche’s. “Do come, Blanche. It won’t be as much fun without you.”

And if that wasn’t one of the sweetest things Blanche had ever been told. Their cheeks went pink. No one had ever called them fun before. They were too serious, too awkward, too stoic. Noire was the fun, friendly one. But if they were wanted… “I’ll see if I can make time,” Blanche said, trying to play it cool.

“Great! I’ll provide snacks. All ya gotta do is show up,” Spark said, beaming.

“Very well.” Blanche was abysmal in the kitchen, so at least it wasn’t going to be a potluck. Candela was still holding onto their arm. It felt nice. Very nice.

Blanche still had not told them.

The thought of bringing up their background made their heart hammer and a lump stick in their throat. It was too hard. They did not want to. But if they did not, would it not be deceitful? Candela and Spark had both told Blanche things about their pasts, things that were difficult for them to say. Reciprocating would be the right thing to do.

“While you’re here, there was something I wanted to tell you,” Blanche began. Even those words had to be forced out of their mouth. Candela gave their arm a brief squeeze. There was so much comfort in that touch. It gave Blanche the courage to continue. Spark stopped teasing the wild pidgey that had landed on his shoulder in hopes of bits of sandwich, and was giving Blanche his full attention. He didn’t seem to notice that this gave the pidgey the opportunity to steal a large chunk of his sandwich meat and take flight for a nearby tree to eat its spoils.

“When we were children, Noire and I were found on the streets of Orre.” The memories, vague and clouded as they were, came up. Blanche pushed the back in order to continue. “We were found by Team Rocket taking shelter among stacks of pallets at an abandoned warehouse. I do not remember how we got there. Neither does Noire.” They only remembered two days prior at most, but they weren’t sure of that. They remembered twisting a spigot on the side of the building and getting a thin trickle of water. They remembered hunger, blistering hot days, and cold nights. Fear. That was all.

“That’s okay, Blanche,” Spark hastened to reassure them. “We’re all orphans, in a way.” He glanced at Candela, whose parents were still alive but had effectively abandoned her. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you. But that’s not it.” Blanche drew in a deep breath, then pressed on. “I don’t recall anything before that clearly. But I do have… I suppose I would call them *impressions* of things. Nothing clear. Locked doors. Needles. Terror. People in white coats. That’s all.”

Spark scooted until he was sitting on Blanche’s other side. He draped his arm over their shoulders and squeezed. “That’s rough. Thank you for telling us,” he murmured.

Blanche was mortified to feel tears prick their eyes. They swiped at their face with the back of their hand to wipe away the moisture, and Spark squeezed again. “Hey. It’s okay. Cry if you gotta. It’s tough stuff we’re talking about.”

Blanche hiccuped, and despite Spark’s reassurance, they were ashamed of their weakness. How stupid was it to cry over things that the didn’t even remember? “I might not be human,” they choked out.

“Of course you are!” Candela’s voice was fierce. She pushed up until she was kneeling and cupped their face in her hands. Blanche wanted to look away, but Candela wasn’t having it. “No, no, you listen to me,” she said. Her eyes were gold. Had Blanche ever noticed that before? “You are human. Absolutely. Just as human as me and Sparky over there, even though he has the mentality of a pokemon sometimes and eats weird things he finds in the forest.”

Blanche gave a wet laugh, and Candela smiled in relief. “Hey, I’m serious! He once ate this weird twisty berry and his face was paralyzed for an entire day. Who does that?”

“Hey! It was only temporary. And Go dared me. I don’t back down from a challenge, Candy.”

“But did you learn your lesson? No!” Candela shot back. “He tried to eat an apricorn the next day,” she explained to Blanche.

“Apricorns can be juiced, but they are not edible raw,” Blanche said.

“Well, I know that now,” Spark said. “Geez, Candy, you never let anything go.”

“It was only two months ago Spark!” Despite her more aggressive tone toward Spark, Candela’s hands remained gentle on Blanche’s face. She stopped frowning at Spark to smile at Blanche and give them a soft kiss on the forehead. Blanche flushed and automatically pulled away. They weren’t used to such casual affection.

Fortunately, Candela didn’t seem to be offended. “Finish your sandwich, Blanche,” she said, and settled herself back on the grass to eat her own.

Spark was frowning as his sandwich like he’d just realized there was a chunk missing. Blanche opted not to tell him about the pidgey. “Like Candy said,” Spark continued. “You’re human for sure. No matter how your life started. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blanche said.

The other two had to leave shortly after in order to make it back to their respective team headquarters in time. Blanche was sorry to see them go. They couldn’t quite see the relationship as romantic yet, but they were starting to consider Spark and Candela to be very good friends.

And maybe that was how it started. As friends. There was always the chance to move on to other things later.

Then again, given the behaviour the other two had exhibited, they clearly didn’t view this as a platonic relationship of any sort.

When they got back to their office, Annie had a stack of reports waiting that needed their review and approval. She smiled at them as they slid behind their desk. “Did you have a good lunch?” she chirped.

“Yes, thank you,” Blanche replied. They picked up the first report in the stack and grimaced, already knowing that this one was going to be a mess. This tech was brilliant in the lab, but their writing left much to be desired.

“I’m glad you’re taking proper breaks now,” she said. “I thought you were going to be one of the types that works themselves to death when you first started, so I’m glad that’s not the case.”

Blanhce grimaced at being so accurately called out. “I am exactly that type.” It was difficult to focus on a conversation and skim a report at the same time, and their attention drifted away from Annie to the report in their hands. “I haven’t been given much of a choice about taking breaks at the moment, though.” After all, it was Spark and Candela who kept showing up unannounced and making them leave work that they otherwise wouldn’t.

Because Annie no longer registered in their mind, they missed her murmured, “Is that so?” and the thoughtful gleam in her eye. Therefore, they did not expect it later when she put her hands on their desk with a smile and said, “Chief! Leader Spark is here to pick you up!”

Blanche was in the middle of working through a thorny supplier issue and it took them a second to process what she’d said, so what came out was an intelligent, “Huh?”

Annie continued to smile. “Leader Spark is waiting for you down in reception! We couldn’t let him come up because of the Pokemon snuffles outbreak among some new breeding pairs at Instinct. It’s a minor illness but highly contagious, so it’s better if he doesn’t access the elevator used to transport lab pokemon.” While she talked, Annie packed the materials she knew they would want to take him with them into their briefcase, along with some thumb drives and a malfunctioning lure Blanche had been trying to repair in their spare time.

“But why is he here?” Blanche glanced at the clock. “It’s only six.”

“It’s 6:45.” Was it Blanche’s imagination or did Annie’s smile look a bit threatening? “I heard that you, Leader Spark, and Leader Candela have plans for the evening. It’s rude to keep them waiting!”

Blanche blinked at her as she tossed their coat over their shoulders and shoved their briefcase into their hands.

Baffled by Annie’s pushiness, Blanche nonetheless logged out of their computer and complied. They did not want to be on bad terms with their assistant, and it seemed important to Annie that Blanche clear out. The warning edge to her tone dissipated when Blanche stood up and shoved their arms through the sleeves of their coat.

They eyed Annie with suspicion. “You seem to be in quite a hurry to see me out.”

“Not at all!” That was feigned innocence if Blanche ever saw it. “It’s just that Leader Spark is already here and all, and it would be rude to make him wait.”

Blanche didn’t know what she was up to, but they supposed it wouldn’t be anything nefarious. To their understanding, Annie had been with Mystic for some time and there had never been any complaints about her conduct. “All right. Have a good evening.”

“You too, Chief! See you tomorrow!”

Blanche locked the office door behind them, and with a final wave, Annie skipped off to her own, smaller office, presumably to get ready to leave herself.

Spark was indeed waiting when Blanche reached the main level. Rather than his typical leader attire, he was wearing jeans that appeared to have torn and faded through wear rather than been purchased that way and a T-shirt that said “If found, return to Go.”

“Is that a custom shirt?” Blanche asked as they approached.

Spark had been browsing memes on his phone. At the sound of Blanche’s voice, he put his phone away and leaped up to take their hands. Blanche was caught off guard and let him, though their cheeks went pink when he squeezed their hands with obvious affection. “Heya, Blanche! Ready to go?”

“I suppose. I’d like to stop by my place and change, if that’s all right.”

“No prob!” Spark let go of one of Blanche’s hands, but held on to the other as he led them to where he’d parked his car on the street. “And yeah, me’n Go had these made up a li’l while after I started with Instinct. I keep it and the jeans in a bag at work in case my clothes get yucked. You know how it is, working with pokemon.”

“Indeed.” Blanche slid into the passenger’s seat and crossed their legs. “I find your change of clothes much more practical than Candela’s.”

Spark laughed, and Blanche knew they were both thinking of the red dress and accessories from the other day. “Yeah, well, Candy’s like that. She does have a change of more practical clothes at Valor, too. And gym clothes. She says she’s gotta be prepared for any situation, her appearance included. Gotta admire that, even if it’s not for me.”

“I suppose.”

They pulled in next to Blanche’s apartment. Blanche went upstairs to stow away their briefcase and change into something more casual. They weren’t comfortable enough with the other two yet to not dress on the nicer end of casual, so they put on their nicest pair of jeans and a teal button-up shirt. After that they floundered a little, unsure what was expected of them and if they needed to bring anything else. Spark had said they just needed to show up, but did they really?

This was ridiculous. They were keeping him waiting with pointless dithering. Blanche sighed and trooped back out. Spark had passed the time by browsing memes again, and he put his phone away and headed in what Blanche assumed was the direction of his own home.

The inside of Spark’s apartment was cluttered and cozy, but also gave away the fact that a bachelor lived there. There was equipment for raising baby pokemon scattered about, dirty dishes scattered in the sink, and Blanche saw through an open door that Spark’s shower curtain was shoved straight through the rod. There was a nice smell wafting from the kitchen, and Candela poked her head out.

“Spark! I pulled the stuff in the oven like you asked!” she said, coming over to give Spark a hug. They seemed to have adjusted easily to the reality of being soulmates and had made the shift from friends to lovers without thinking too deeply about it. Blanche wished they could be so lighthearted about things.

“Thanks, Candy. Ya got it at the right temperature, yeah?” he asked, kicking off his shoes and placing them on the rack by the door. The shoes on the rack were a mess, but Blanche supposed the fact that they were up off the floor was a point in Spark’s favour as they discarded their own shoes and added them to the mess.

“Of course I’ve got them on the right temp. I know how to work an oven,” Candela said, her lips turning downward in a pout. This might be the first time Blanche had seen her without lipstick. Candela rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Spark passed her on the way into the kitchen. “He doesn’t trust me,” she huffed to Blanche, who smiled.

“I do trust ya, Candy! I just… gotta make sure.” Blanche could not see Spark from their vantage point, but they could hear pots clanking as he moved around.

With no idea what else to do, since they doubted they would fit in Spark’s kitchen while he and Candela were already in there, Blanche sat on the couch. Their lap was immediately invaded by a clutch of tiny Vulpix kits, who seemed to have been sleeping under a blanket until Blanche disturbed them. Delighted, Blanche scratched their little heads and was relieved that they had not chosen to sit on that blanket. If they had crushed the little babies, they would have died.

There was a knock at the door, which Candela went to answer. “Hello Rocket,” she said, managing somehow to sound both cheerful and menacing at the same time.

The response was unmistakably Noire. “Bite me.”

Noire stomped into the apartment still wearing their boots. “We brought booze- oh, babies!” they broke off with a gasp. Noire shoved the packs of beer into Candela’s arms and knelt on the floor in front of Blanche to coo at the kits.

Amelie kicked off her own boots, gave Candela a polite nod, and came in to join them.

Whatever Spark was doing in the kitchen caused the apartment to be full of delectable smells. Noire kept sniffing the air as they tried to steal all of the Vulpix kits from Blanche’s lap. Blanche kept stealing them back, and this continued until the kits began to protest loudly and Amelie confiscated them all.

Noire counted this as a victory until they realized that she did not plan to share with them, and they returned to the couch to sulk with Blanche.

Spark came out of the kitchen bearing steaming pans of food, and they all gravitated in that direction with their mouths watering. “I didn’t know you could cook,” Blanche commented to Spark.

He grinned, but there was an edge of shyness to it. “Oh, yeah, I love to cook. Feeding people is one of my favourite things.”

There was rice and stir-fried veggies, a platter of meatballs, bread that appeared home-made, though it was not fresh from the oven, and a plate of fresh-baked cookies. They all piled their plates high and settled around the living room, since Spark didn’t have enough chairs in his tiny eating area, and the chairs he did have held baskets of sleeping Pichu.

Candela and Spark opted to sit on the floor, sitting close enough to brush against Blanche’s legs. Amelie sat on the couch with Noire half lounging in her lap. Whenever Noire’s feet came too close to Blanche’s lap, and therefore their plate, Blanche would pinch Noire’s toes.

“This is delicious,” said Blanche. On impulse, they ruffled Spark’s hair, and was immediately embarrassed.

Spark twisted around to grin up at them. “Thanks! Glad you like it!” He lifted one hand to squeeze Blanche’s knee, and their face went hot. Spark blinked in surprise at their reaction, then smiled. “Hey, uh, Blanche,” he said, almost shy.

“Hm?”

“Sorry if this is sudden, but… Can I kiss you?”

Blanche flushed all over and a nervous, fluttery feeling filled their chest. It was probably too soon, but Blanche wasn’t as opposed to the idea as they thought they would be.

Blanche’s hands clenched their jeans and they bit their lower lip as they nodded. “I suppose,” they said, aware that their voice sounded small and uncertain.

Spark had not removed his hand from Blanche’s knee. He kept it there for support as he turned toward Blanche and shifted into a kneeling position. Blanche’s heart pounded against their ribs as he leaned closer. When they felt his breath on their face and his hand cup their cheek, they closed their eyes.

The kiss was soft and gentle. It was obvious that Spark was trying not to scare them away. Blanche’s hand came up to grip Spark’s t-shirt, and they only pulled away when Noire started making fake gagging sounds.

“Blanche, gross,” Noire groaned.

Blanche turned their head to glare at their twin. “Like you don’t kiss Amelie in front of me.”

Noire glared back. “That’s different. I’m eating here!”

Blanche was going to snap back, but hands on their face distracted them. Blanche looked up in surprise as Candela shoved Spark out of the way and settled on Blanche’s lap. “Aw, does little Noire not like PDA?” she purred, snuggling against Blanche’s chest and turning their face the same red as her t-shirt. She looped an arm around Blanche’s neck and smirked at Noire.

While Noire sputtered, Candela leaned in so close that her breath tickled Blanche’s ear as she whispered, “May I have a kiss too, darling?”

Half the reason they accepted was desire, but they would be lying if the other half wasn’t the need to antagonize Noire.

Whatever concerns Spark had about scaring Blanche away, Candela did not share. This was not a light, gentle kiss. It was hot and hungry, and by the time Candela pulled away Blanche was panting to catch their breath.

Candela smiled at them, softer and happier than Blanche had ever seen her.

They opened their mouth to say something, but were interrupted by Spark’s whistle. “Nice, Candy,” he said, awed.

Candela snorted.

Blanche peeked to the side to gauge Noire’s reaction. Noire was red-faced and sputtering. When their eyes met Blanche’s they snapped. “What the HELL. Did you invite me here just to watch you guys make out?”

Blanche couldn’t help it - they started to laugh. Soon the others joined in, even Amelie, while Noire whined and sputtered.

This wasn’t bad. It was quite nice. Blanche wouldn’t mind having soulmates, if it meant they could have a lot of days like this in their future.

#Pokemon Go #Ashiversary #chiiwifruit #submission #fanfiction #Blanche #Spark #Candela #Team Mystic #Team Instinct #Team Valor #If We're Honest

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lilacmiracle · 4 years

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The Terrifying Case of Iplier Manor - Sneak Peek

okay so:

here’s a tiny, tiny sample of the sequel to this. because 1) i’m excited about this thing and i want to build a fraction of the hype that i have for it and 2) i don’t like writing a bunch and having nothing online to show for it. and, for your convenience, i also have this on AO3 if you prefer.

beta read by @coffee-bean-boi

The video opens on a series of clips that are presumably filmed later in the episode. The first clip shows Ryan in front of a broken mirror while looking over at Shane, asking, breathlessly, “What the fuck?” The second clip shows Ryan, still in front of the broken mirror, with a bottle of what is presumably holy water. He sprays it at Shane. The third and final clip shows Ryan, Shane, and a new person, all in a different room, this one with a wood fireplace, with a flashlight that has been brightly turned on. The flashlight switches off, and Ryan screams very loudly.

The video then cuts to the intro for most ‘Supernatural’ episodes, with the building in the background being a version of the Manor, rendered in a 2-Dimensional style.

The video then cuts to Ryan and Shane standing in front of the double doors to the Manor, with Ryan on the right and Shane on the left.

“We are here at Iplier Manor, site of the Wharfstache Disappearances, for this season’s finale and my one demon sacrifice for this season.”

I’m really fucking scared, man. I -- I don’t wanna do this.

It’s fiiiiiine. I mean, what’s the worst that’s gonna happen? Spooky lawyer ghosts?

We could die! We could disappear like those other people!

Only if the Colonel comes.

“This house, if it is, in fact, inhabited by a demon, is by far the most dangerous location that we have ever investigated. As such, we have brought in a psychic to help us in our investigation.”

The new person from the third clip steps into frame. She appears to be an older woman with short, gray hair and loose clothes. She is wearing loose necklaces and an abundance of bracelets that hang off of her wrists.

Hello, my name is Lily, and I am here to help these two with their investigation on this Manor right here.

With that, the Ghoul Boys™ and Lily head inside of the Manor.

I have a Bible and my holy water.

You’re gonna be fine, Ryan.

I sure hope so.

“This episode is going to be rather out of the ordinary with regards to our other demon investigations, considering the fact that we have already covered the history of this house in our last True Crime episode. However, there are a few odd occurrences inside of these walls that were not covered in that video.”

The video cuts to black, fading into a black-and-white image of Mark Iplier. Ryan’s narration continues.

“This Manor has a long history of misery, being the place of many a divorce and untimely death, all of which were ruled to be by natural causes. Things start getting weird when the actor Mark Iplier buys the house for himself and his new wife, Celine Iplier, in early 1913. Investigators found a diary that is believed to have been owned by Celine Iplier. The entries in this diary paint a terrible picture -- Mark was being twisted into the form of a monster, wrote one entry.”

The image on the video had shifted into an image of Celine when Ryan mentioned her. Now, it shows an image of aged paper, with a message written in practiced cursive. A female voice begins to read:

“Friday, February 20, 1914,

This house has become more and more oppressive. I sense darkness within it, and I think that Mark does as well. I am concerned, for if he feels what I can -- he is not trained in anything beyond our world, he has no access to what is past our mortal realm. For the house to make itself known, even to him, is a sign of something terrible.

I can feel him changing, shifting; he has been ever since he bought this place. Hell, he changed the moment he set foot through those damned doors. I don’t know what the house is twisting him into -- I just know that I won’t like the end result.”

There is a sound effect of the turning of a page, and the image onscreen is replaced by a new one -- another aged piece of paper, the same perfect penmanship, a different message that’s somehow even more ominous. The same voice begins to read:

#BFU/MCU Sequel Shit

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ti-bae-rius · 5 years

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The Heart of New York (part 1)

“You really should eat breakfast.”

“Working,” Ty muttered, ignoring Livvy’s stern protest from where she floated listlessly above the unoccupied bed in his room. His lack of roommate was frankly a relief. The Scholomance was great for small nooks and crannies to hide in away from other scholars, but sometimes he just wanted somewhere to lay down and escape people altogether. Except for Livvy. It was worse when she wasn’t there, when thoughts of everything and everyone he’d left behind filtered through. There was Julian and Emma, back from their travelling and back to being the new demon-hunting legends of Los Angeles. There was Mark, with Kieran and Cristina in their beautiful faerie cottage, separated from everyone but each other. There was Dru, though she sent postcards and photos that Ty covered his walls with. And Tavvy and Helen and Aline. And then, tucked away in a cardboard box, wrapped in packing tape and then sealed in a safe, were memories of Kit.

“You’re thinking about him,” Livvy said softly. “You have that look on your face.”

“Shut up. I’ll go get breakfast, okay?” Ty said, blushing.

“That’s the spirit. Nothing like some light haunting to keep you eating properly,” she teased, and Ty shut the door to his room, a heavy book tucked under his arm to read at breakfast. His life had been occupied for the last year with the demon he was researching. Elusive, photophobic, and - until now - undocumented, the demon was a complete enigma. Which, of course, meant it was a perfect candidate for his investigation. It was called a nyrual, and Ty was itching to find one. He wanted samples of its hide and ichor to study. But up here in the Carpathian Mountains, the cold-blooded demon was unlikely to appear.

He sank down onto the end of one of the long tables that ran the length of the room with a cup of tea and a pastry, the book open beside him. He was careful not to get any flakes of pastry on the pages and, when he was done, pulled one cotton reading glove on to leaf through the pages. His work was spreading across the table, maps and diagrams seeming to burst out of his notebook and onto the table all around him. The only thing that made him look up was when he hit the bottom of his mug and became aware he was drinking the tea leaves at the bottom.

“Someone’s coming,” Livvy warned and Ty prepared himself. She always kept an eye out to see if anyone was headed over when he was working, giving him those precious few moments to pull his mind away from his work. Changing from one task to another was never something that felt completely comfortable, like a piece of his brain was still with the last thing, but having it not be so instantaneous was a help.

“Blackthorn, you have a letter.”

Ty pushed his headphones around his neck.

“A letter,” he repeated absently. “Thanks.”

He glanced up at his classmate and she winked. That was happening more and more recently. Sometimes he wondered just what they saw in him, what warranted the sideways glances and giggles and winks. He’d looked at old photos and didn’t see all that much difference. Girls liked guys with muscles - Ty knew that. But he wasn’t strong, not like Julian. He looked more like Mark, lithe and long, with willowy limbs. Though he trained to keep his skills honed, he spent more time hefting heavy tomes from room to room and climbing the ladders attached to the library shelves than he did doing strength and cardio. Â But then, he wasn’t sure he wanted the Scholomance girls to look at him like that. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he did know was that no one made his heart race and his stomach knot the way memories of Kit did. But still, he didn’t know what that meant â€“ if it meant anything at all. There was guilt there, and fear, and a nagging grief that seemed to whistle through the hole it left in his chest like wind through the rocks off the LA beach. A million emotions mixed together meant it was hard to isolate any in particular, which was just fine as far as Ty was concerned.

He went back to his room with the letter, books tucked under his arm, and put it all down on the desk. Letters were usually from his family, and he’d read it later. He hoped it was from Dru, maybe including some photos from home, or a cool piece of sea glass she thought he’d like. His desk drawer was full of trinkets from Dru; a handful of cherry blossom from his first spring away from LA, a pressed bush mallow flower that grew near the brush, the shed skin of a rattlesnake. It was just itching to be opened now. He edged a finger under the flap of the envelope and started when he saw the official Clave seal.

“Who’s it from?” Livvy asked, floating closer to read over his shoulder.

“Alec Lightwood,” Ty breathed. Alec Lightwood was a god amongst men, a personal hero of Ty’s. He was quiet and serious and unbelievably smart. Ty would never want to be Consul, but he wouldn’t mind being like Alec. His eyes scanned the letter now and his hands spasmed in excitement when he got to the end. “Livvy!”

“I saw!” she exclaimed, twirling around in her white burial gown happily.

“I am writing to you because I’m aware of your research into the nyrual demon species. We believe we may have located a pod in the New York’s Brooklyn area. We will be leading a hunt tonight at nightfall. If you can spare some time and researchers, we’d be glad to have you. Shadowhunters will be waiting for you on the corner of Fulton and Franklin from eleven tonight. Thanks in advance, Consul Alec Lightwood,” Ty read, then looked up at Livvy, wide-eyed. “Wait, eleven? That’s...that’s nine here. That’s...” He checked his phone - there was barely any service here anyway, it was functioning mostly as a clock and a notepad - and leapt to his feet. “That’s less than an hour.”

He started strapping on gear frantically, Livvy reminding him where his knives and stele were stored. Everything felt rushed and manic, and the rest of his team didn’t even know this was happening yet. With leg holsters half-buckled and his robes streaming behind him like banners, Ty tore through the Scholomance halls, knocking on the doors to his fellow researchers’ rooms, telling them the plan one by one. By the time they were gathered by the portal, everyone drawing runes on each other with haste, Ty already felt breathless. Livvy was muttering reassurances, lingering close by. Only when the head of the Scholomance stepped forward did everyone fall silent. It was hard not to; the Scholomance was led now by Jia Penhallow, after she’d stepped down from a governmental position to spend more time with her family. Even now, the Penhallow name and her gaze commanded attention just the same way it always had.

“Centurions, you are the greatest scholars the Shadow World has to offer. This is a unique academic opportunity, a fact I’m sure is not lost on you. The Consul is counting on you. You are the next generation of graduates from this hallowed establishment. Do not let us down.”

Ty felt as if he was vibrating. His whole life had led up to this. Every day he’d spent working all night because he thought he’d found a lead, every time he was yanked out of sleep by a sudden idea that sent him running through the halls to the library in the darkness, every backhanded comment about his worth on this mission. It was leading up to this. His project, the demon he was investigating, with his research team. They were headed to New York, to the very core of modern Shadowhunter politics, and he was right there at the centre of it. He looked around at his team, who all looked back, wide-eyed. They looked alert, even though most of them had only woken up a half hour ago.

“Blackthorn, would you like to give any final instructions to your team?” Jia offered, and Ty stepped forward. Though speaking to even one of them individually in a social setting seemed like a potential threat, speaking about work was fine. This was his thing; this he could do.

“You should all have brought some containers for samples. If you can draw ichor, or remove any hide from the demon, transfer it to a sterile container as soon as possible. Anything you can take to examine later - saliva, swabs, anything - will be useful. Remember that the demon is photophobic, but this is a last resort. We want to study it, so your witchlights and any bright device is a last resort. Spread the word to Shadowhunters to avoid seraph blades where possible. The light will scare them off, and if we’re going to figure out what this demon’s modus operandi is, we need to gather intel before we can dispatch it.” He pushed his headphones over his ears, grinning. “Let’s go.”

He let the others go first, lingering back until only one of his team stayed. She glanced back at him worriedly.

“Are you seriously going to wear those to a battle?” she asked, nodding to his headphones.

“If I want to get back alive, I am,” Ty told her. She wavered but turned and leapt into the portal.

Ty took a deep breath and turned to Jia, who gave him a nod of good luck, and walked away. He looked up at Livvy, who grinned.

“Go. Your team are waiting. I’ll be right behind you.”

He nodded, shook out his hands like he was drying them to relieve some of the building anxiety, and stepped confidently into the swirling surface of the portal, his boots finding the disconcerting nothingness on the other side before the noise of the battle and the New York streets hit him in a wall of sound.

#rae #malec #kitty #kitty blackdale #the heart of new york #thony #rae and lauryn #laurae #fanfic #fic #kitty fic #malec fic #twp #the wicked powers #tda #the dark artifices

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dragonfics · 5 years

Text

What’s in a name?

Chapter 3: No need for paperwork

Ship: Spicyhoney

Tags: Doctor Rus, patient Edge, LV issues, discrimination, dehumanisation, asylum-style setting, institutional captivity, forced institutionalisation, needles, minor medical procedures, unethical medical practice, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: If you'd asked Rus a week ago what he expected to be doing next Friday night... it most certainly would not be this.

Notes: Emphasis on the ‘dehumanisation’ tag this chapter, just a warning.

Read on AO3

Below the cut

Rus ate alone during lunch. He’d always been the sociable type, but here, he’d been having a little difficulty making ‘friends’. The break room was usually quiet anyway. Breaks were short and few during the day, and people seldom spoke to each other. Or to Rus, at least.

Today, the doctor on the table next to Rus was having a very loud conversation with his colleagues. Rus eyed him; thick mane and golden fur, his canines glistened as if they’d been whitened. His tail swished animatedly behind him as he spoke, his rumbling voice carrying through the room. Rus was about to stuff his earbuds in when he caught something.

“... oh and have you heard about all the security stuff they’re planning for ward D? I’m good mates with the head of security—good mates—he told me they’re gonna be changing policies there to make it more… well, you know what the patients are like in there.” He cut a chunk off the steak on his plate and shovelled it into his mouth.

“What kind of changesss?” asked the nurse sitting next to him, her forked tongue flicking.

“Hm, well—” The lion held up a claw and finished chewing. “More tranquiliser, chaining ‘em up when they’re giving them their meds. Apparently there’ve been a few too many incidents.”

Rus swallowed, stirring his yoghurt around its tub. “um—” He cleared his throat, leaning over. “excuse me, did you say ward d?”

The lion twisted around in his seat, his green eyes widening when he saw Rus. “That’s right.” He tilted his head. “You new around here?”

“i was transferred from training a few weeks ago—i work in ward d.”

He lifted a brow. “Really?” He glanced at his colleagues before scooting his chair closer to Rus and leaning in. “You know, I’m pretty close with the head of admin. I could probably get you transferred to a different ward, if you like. Gotta be rough for a trainee starting in ward D.” Rus opened his mouth to remark that he was not a trainee, thank you, and he did not need to be transferred—but the lion kept speaking. “I work in research. It’s pretty comfy. No one above five LV, and we mostly just handle samples.” He held out his paw, flashing a grin. “Boris, by the way.”

Rus slowly shook his hand. “rus… and uh, that’s okay, thanks. but—what do you know about the changes?”

Boris glanced over his shoulder, then dipped his head, moving closer. His eyes were gleaming, thrilled to share the information only he was privy to. “Well, I’m not really meant to say, but I’ve heard it’s ‘cause they wanna increase experimentation. You know, looking for cures and stuff—that’s my area.”

Rus’s mana ran cold. “experimentation… don’t you mean research?”

Boris tilted his hand, shrugging. “Eh, same thing. They gotta get more samples from the ones with high LV. Problem is, most of ‘em don’t like it. React badly to needles and shit—you’d know, working in ward D. So they wanna keep ‘em more sedated.” Boris grinned and Rus’s soul churned. He was tempted to remark that none of his patients had ever resisted giving samples. Not much, anyway. “We’re getting more pressure from the city council to find a cure. Means more work for me but I don’t mind. Makes it all a bit more exciting, don’t you think?”

“not really the word i’d use,” Rus muttered, but Boris didn’t seem to hear him.

“Yeah, I reckon it’s gonna help us out a lot. You done much research since starting here?”

Rus nodded. Part of his job was analysing the samples he took from patients; scanning the mana for traces of LV, trying to see what effect the suppressants had. But once the mana was out of their bodies, it was all but indistinguishable from the mana of monsters with no LV. Which meant that LV was linked to the soul, making it inseparable from the monsters themselves. Rus had always taken it as a dead end, but clearly they were taking their… ‘research’ to the next level.

“so, this… experimentation…” Rus swallowed. “how will it even get through? i don’t think the patients will be very willing to sign consent forms—”

Boris’s laughter was booming. “Consent forms?” He clapped Rus on the shoulder. “You’re cute, new guy.” He glanced at the others. “Isn’t he cute?” He leaned in again. “Sweetheart, we’re doing them a favour here. Do you know how much money is being put into this? How many resources? The least they could give us in return is a little gratitude. Once we’ve figured it all out, they might even be rehabilitated. If any of them have any issues with this—” He chuckled. “Well, I know what I’d do with them if I was running this place.” He gave Rus a long look, as if expecting him to ask. When Rus said nothing, he stretched and stood up. “Keep an eye on your email. You’ll probably be hearing all about it soon.”

Sure enough, within the week, the whole place was buzzing with talk of the new changes. There seemed to be mixed opinions on it—though the responses from the staff were largely positive, from the talk Rus had overheard.

“I know it’s not exactly gonna be comfortable,” Jackie had said when Rus had asked her about it. “But once we’re past the transition stage I reckon it’s going to make things run a lot smoother around here. Don’t you think?”

Rus had mumbled his disagreement. He was the minority, it seemed, but not entirely alone. He’d overheard snatches of conversations from some of the other nurses and doctors.

“—not exactly right, is it?”

“—don’t think I’m going to be sticking around here if this is the way things are going—”

“I mean, it’s awful, kind of cruel, but I guess it’s just the way things are with these creatures.”

Most seemed willing to accept it, if grudgingly.

More than a few patients were displeased about the changes. There were far more incidences of violent outbursts in the ward that week. When passing a group of nurses leaving a patient’s room one evening, Rus caught sight of a full tray of used tranquiliser needles on their med cart. “And they wonder why we’re putting these new policies in place,” one of them muttered, wiping his hands off on his pants.

The job of informing the patients of the changes was left to their respective doctors, though by the end of the week, most had already received the news through gossip. None of Rus’s patients took the information with grace, not that he expected any less.

For some reason, he left twenty-two for last. He didn’t try to justify the decision to himself, but something inside him squirmed with dread every time he thought about doing it. Thursday was the deadline, and when evening came, he couldn’t put it off any longer. He added the jelly cup from his lunch box to twenty-two’s dinner tray, ignoring Jackie’s raised eyebrow. “can you wait outside?” he asked when they reached twenty-two’s door.

“Uh… I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, doc.” Jackie eyed the door dubiously. “You know this probably isn’t going to go well, right?”

“it’s okay.” Rus tapped his collar with his fingertip. “i have my panic button. if i’m not out in five, come and get me. but—i don’t think he’ll hurt me.”

Jackie sighed, shrugging. “Alright. Just don’t die, please. The paperwork for that is horrendous.”

On a normal day, Rus might have humoured her with an eye roll. But today, he lacked the energy. He opened the door and walked in with lead feet. Twenty-two was sitting at the windowsill. The book in his lap was closed, his gaze trained on the streaks of blood in the sky. “hey,” Rus said, wheeling in his cart. “i brought you something extra for dinner.” He placed the tray next to the bed, but twenty-two didn’t look up. “i don’t know if you like raspberry, but i figured anything would be better than the usual.”

Twenty-two turned to look at him and Rus had to refrain from shrinking away. His red eye-lights were pinpricks, almost consumed by the black depths of his sockets. On the arms of his chair, his hands were fists. “Just tell me, doctor,” he said. “Read the new policies to me. I know that’s why you’re here. You’ve put it off long enough so let’s just get it over with.”

Rus swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He took the letter out of his pocket and unfolded it for what felt like the hundredth time that week. “well, the first change is—”

“No, no.” Twenty-two was shaking his head. “Read it as is. Read the exact words it says on the page.”

Rus took a shaky breath. “i don’t know if…”

“Read it.”

His tone left no room for argument. Closing his eyes briefly, Rus looked down at the page. “dear patient, as of the fourteenth of this month, several new policies will be put into place. these are to ensure the safety of both staff and—and patients.”

Twenty-two waved his hand. “Go on.”

“cuffs will be installed in all rooms for patients above ten lv. when medication is administered or samples taken, patients will be cuffed and—and if necessary… muzzled.” Rus broke off sharply, barely getting the last word out.

Twenty-two was looking out the window again, resting his chin on his palm. His gaze was distant. “Keep reading.”

“patients with lv above twelve will have their suppressant dosage increased to the maximum, no exceptions. all patients will be issued an ankle tag which they must wear at all times. this will monitor their magic use. those who exceed a set threshold will lose their meal p-privileges for the rest of the day. those who break this boundary twice will lose meal privileges for two days, and so on.” Rus stopped at the next one, his words choking off suddenly.

“I believe there’s more, doctor,” twenty-two said, his voice deceptively soft. Rus’s hands trembled around the sheet of paper. His sockets burned.

“in order to assist with furthering the research of this facility, patients may be required to give additional samples, as well as undergo certain—e-experiments.” Rus pressed a hand over his mouth, sucking in a sharp breath.

Twenty-two nodded, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “That should be interesting, shouldn’t it?” he said in a raspy voice.

“i’m sorry,” Rus whispered, for all the good an apology would do. He folded the sheet again, stepping towards twenty-two.

“Don’t put that away just yet, I believe there’s more. Am I wrong?”

Grimacing, Rus unfolded it again, and read the last paragraph. “all policies will be strictly enforced. breaking them will result in consequences for both patient and carer. these changes are in the best interest of everyone, and cooperation is crucial to the smooth and safe running of this facility.” Rus shut his eyes, a sick burning in his soul. “patients are advised that these changes are for their benefit, and—” He grit his teeth. “i can’t—i can’t read this—”

“You’re my doctor. I believe you have a responsibility to inform me of any policy changes the facility will be making.” Twenty-two leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Well?”

Rus closed his eyes, stewing in hatred. Not directed at twenty-two, but right now, he was the most immediate target. His jaw clenched, he read the final line of the letter. “patients are advised that these changes are for their benefit, and that not adhering to them would be—” He swallowed, breathing out. “would be an act of both disrespect and ingratitude.” His voice broke off and he stuffed the letter back into his pocket. There was a burning in his soul. His fists were shaking at his sides.

Twenty-two had turned back to the window, his face hidden. “Thank you, doctor. Is that all?”

Rus reached for his shoulder. “please don’t—”

“I’d like to be alone, if that’s still permitted.”

Rus shut his eyes and exhaled. “i’m sorry,” he said in a brittle voice, pushing the med cart back out. Jackie was waiting for him in the hallway. Her long ears sagged when she saw his face, and she sighed.

“Hey.” She patted his arm. “I told you, you shouldn’t get attached.”

“he’s—” Rus caught his breath, closing his eyes. “they’re my patients. it’s my job to care about their wellbeing.”

“It’s for the best.”

“it’s barbaric,” Rus hissed.

“You knew what this job was when you came here, didn’t you?” She leaned in, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s our instinct to care, but these guys aren’t actually our patients. They’re our subjects.” She frowned, meeting Rus’s eye. “Why did you come here?”

Rus looked down at his shaking hands. Two nurses passed them, one laughing loudly at something the other one had said. Rus squeezed his hands into fists, staring after them with his teeth gritted. “i wanted to help them.”

“And you will,” Jackie said firmly. “When we find a cure for their affliction, we’ll know it was because of our work.”

Rus shook his head, whispering, “what if we’re making a mistake?”

***

The policies wouldn’t be effective for another week, but the following day, signs of their arrival were already starting to pop up all over the ward. Sonya told him they were getting in an extra large shipment of tranquiliser that afternoon. They had already started strapping muzzles to the med carts. And in almost every room Rus walked past, they were installing chains and cuffs to the walls. Half-sedated patients were being escorted between rooms throughout the ward. Rus did his best not to look at their muzzled faces.

He’d been putting off twenty-two’s evening checkup. He was meant to be informing him that he would be transferred to a different room later tonight so that cuffs could be installed in his room over the weekend. Sonya had given him the transfer papers this morning, and they’d been burning a hole in his pocket all day.

It was growing dark by the time he and Jackie started finishing up. “shit… twenty-two,” Rus said, glancing at his schedule. “go home,” he told Jackie. “i’ll take care of it. i just need to give him his dinner and prep him for the transfer. i can handle it.” She seemed relieved at the early dismissal. The day had been spent transferring patients between rooms. A lot of tranquiliser had been involved and Rus didn’t care to linger on the details.

He scanned his card at room twenty-two and pushed the med cart through the door. “dinner,” he announced, kicking the door shut behind him. “i put it in the microwave so it should be warm.” He picked up the tray and glanced around, but twenty-two wasn’t in his armchair, or his bed…

Rus gasped, dropping the tray with a loud clatter as something cold and sharp touched his throat. He could feel the press of twenty-two’s body behind him, and his arm was tight across Rus’s throat. Before Rus could react, he ripped the panic button off his collar and tossed it across the room. “Don’t even think about screaming.”

Rus’s head pounded, a million thoughts rushing through his mind, at least half of them involving the needle pressed to his throat. “if—” he broke off, straining to keep his voice level. “if this is another one of your games—”

“It’s not a fucking game!” No. No, it definitely wasn’t. The needle pressed harder and Rus shut his eyes, breathing a silent prayer. “I can’t stay here anymore. I’m sorry, doc, but this is my only way out.”

“just—just think about what you’re doing,” Rus whispered, his air almost choked off by twenty-two’s hold. “this isn’t who you are—”

“Don’t try, doctor. I’ve been in this place since before you started practicing medicine. I know your tricks. I’m a killer. It’s why I’m here.”

“you don’t want to do this…”

“Shut up!” Twenty-two squeezed harder and Rus whimpered, fighting for air. “It’s—it’s just tranquiliser. It’ll knock you out for a few hours, then I’ll be long gone.” He slipped Rus’s ID card out of his pocket. “I—I just need this. I just need this and I can get out.”

Rus squirmed under his tight grip. “th—that tranquiliser is meant for monsters with at least ten lv,” he rasped. “my hp is too low—it’ll kill me.” Twenty-two exhaled hard, shifting his grip. Rus could hear the needle shaking in his hand, so close to his neck.

“You’re lying.”

“you know i’m not.” LV crackled in the air and Rus blinked away tears. “you told me before that you didn’t want to hurt me,” he whispered.

“I don’t.” Twenty-two inhaled deeply. “But I will if I have to.”

Rus fought back the overwhelming urge to panic. The electricity tingling up his spine, the impulse to writhe and scream; he fought them back. “you don’t want to. think about what you’re doing—even if you get me out of the way, what will you do next? you think they’re just going to ignore you? a patient walking unaccompanied through the ward?”

“I’ll think of something,” twenty-two hissed. “I’ll—I’ll fight if I have to.”

“i know you’re strong, you are. but you’re on suppressants. even on your best day, you couldn’t take five nurses with tranquiliser—and security will be down in minutes.” Twenty-two’s grip grew tighter and Rus felt the warmth of building tears in his sockets. “please,” he whispered. “you don’t want to do this.” Outside, the sky was turning purple. Rus idly wondered if it would be the last time he saw it.

“I can’t stay here,” twenty-two choked. “I’ll die. I’ll die before I spend another day in these walls.”

Rus shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before whispering, “i can help you.”

“No you can’t!” twenty-two snapped, and Rus choked as he jolted. “You can’t help me! Don’t give me that. Don’t give me that bullshit.”

“no,” Rus gasped, struggling in twenty-two’s grip. “i—i can help you get out.” Twenty-two went quiet, his breathing loud against Rus’s ear. Cautiously, Rus went on. “if you let me take the lead, we can pretend i’m taking you to a different room. i have your transfer papers. we can—”

Twenty-two’s grip shifted threateningly and Rus broke off. “No. No, I don’t trust you for a second.”

“you have to.”

“And what’s to stop you from marching me straight to the tranquilising room when I’m not holding this to your throat anymore?” He pressed the tip of the needle to Rus’s vertebrae as if to emphasise his point, and Rus winced.

“i want to help you. i don’t want to see you die. i—”

“I don’t believe you.”

“i can only offer you my word. please. please let me help you.”

Twenty-two’s silence weighed on the room, and with each passing second, Rus became acutely aware of the cold tip of the needle against his throat. He could feel the unsteady rise and fall of twenty-two’s chest behind him, his breath hot on Rus’s neck.

Then slowly, he released Rus. For several long seconds, Rus stood frozen. He gradually lifted his hands up in a defensive gesture, careful not to make any quick movements. He kept his eyes trained on twenty-two. It was unsettling seeing him without his composure. His complacent smirk and steady, burning eyes. His hand shook around the needle, and his eye-lights were flicking unsteadily between Rus and the door.

Without breaking eye contact, Rus crouched and reached for the set of cuffs on the med cart. Twenty-two took a step back, bearing the needle like a knife. “What are you doing?”

Rus froze, focusing on keeping his voice steady. “patients have to be cuffed when they’re moved between rooms… a-and muzzled.”

Twenty-two’s eyes went wide and his jaw tightened. “No. No! You’re not putting those things on me. I won’t let you.”

Rus took a deep breath. “an uncuffed patient walking the halls would raise too many alarms. we have to make it believable or this won’t work.”

Twenty-two wiped a hand over his face, inhaling sharply, then pointed the needle at Rus’s throat. “If you double cross me, I’ll kill you for every pathetic bit of EXP you’re worth. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rus nodded, whispering, “okay. okay… i understand...”

Twenty-two put his hands together and Rus cuffed them. Under his fierce red eyes, Rus shook so much he struggled to get the muzzle on. He could hear twenty-two’s ragged breathing behind the mask. “it’s going to be okay. it’ll be okay,” he breathed, more for his own sake. He scanned his keycard and guided twenty-two out into the hall with a hand on his shoulder.

He heard twenty-two’s breath catch. “left,” he said quietly, avoiding the gazes of a passing group of nurses. Thankfully, due to the ‘refurbishments’, twenty-two wasn’t the only patient being moved around, so they didn’t attract many second glances. The closest exit to this wing of the hospital was the back exit through storage, but they’d still have to go through security to get there. Rus desperately wished he’d had more time to plan this. But almost every word out of his mouth these past five minutes had been based on survival instinct and pure adrenaline.

When they reached the reached the large vault doors, Rus showed the security guard twenty-two’s transfer papers. He hoped to the King that the guard wouldn’t notice how much his hands were shaking. She eyed the sheet of paper over. “From room twenty-two?” she asked.

“that’s right,” Rus said in a stiff voice. The guard looked back at the sheet of paper, glancing between the photo stamped on it, and twenty-two. Rus could feel sweat building on the back of his neck, and he was certain it couldn’t all be attributed to the humidity. Twenty-two was silent, but his shoulder was stiff under Rus’s hand.

Finally, the guard nodded, typing in the passcode and scanning her card to let them through. “All good, go on through.” Rus offered her a faint smile, and fought against the urge to hurry through the door.

This section of the hospital was quieter, and mostly home to research labs and spare rooms. A few of the ward D monsters had been moved here temporarily for the renovations—including twenty-two, by some miracle Rus wasn’t going to painstake over.

Each step down the corridor felt like walking through quicksand. It took every ounce of Rus’s will not to run. Whenever they passed someone, Rus feared—they know, they know, they know.

“Hey! Rus!”

Rus jumped, squeezing twenty-two’s shoulder so hard he grunted. He turned around slowly, his soul already plummeting into an abyss of dread. The doctor from the break room—Boris—was hurrying towards him, his thick golden mane flowing about his face. He grinned his sparkling white grin and put a hand on Rus’s shoulder. “Fancy running into you in this neck of the woods. Come to join me in research for the evening?”

Rus swallowed. They hadn’t been caught. Not yet. Breathe. “no, uh… just delivering a patient actually—transferring. i’m transferring him. while his room is renovated.” He spoke too quickly. Calm down!

Boris looked at twenty-two the same way one might look at a container of forgotten leftovers at the back of the fridge. “Ah. Well, if you ever want a break from… all this—you’re more than welcome to join me in research sometime.” He gave Rus’s arm a soft squeeze, beaming. “I could put a word in for you with the head of admin. She and I are close, you know! I’m sure she could arrange something.”

Down the corridor to the left, Rus could see the glowing sign for an emergency exit. “uh… sure. yeah, sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

“yeah.” Rus cleared his throat, fidgeting impatiently. “do you mind excusing me? i—i should really get this patient to his room.”

“Of course, of course! By all means. I look forward to working with you, Rus. Oh! Before you go—” He slipped a paper card into Rus’s breast pocket and Rus stared at him, bewildered. “My number. You can contact me any time, sweetheart.” Winking, he walked away.

“o-okay...” Rus tried to push the thought from his mind, and hurried twenty-two on. They walked passed all the patient rooms and stopped outside the emergency exit. Rus hesitated to check if anyone was watching them, as deep as the temptation was to bolt through without looking back. No one was looking their way. He pushed the door open and hurried twenty-two through. Their footsteps echoed through the stairwell, and if they both jogged more than walked, Rus wasn’t complaining.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Rus had to scan his ID card again. They emerged into a long grey corridor lined with shelves and cupboards. Rus could hear the rumble of machinery through the concrete walls, and feel the outside heat creeping in. So close.

The sound of someone whistling echoed down the corridor and Rus froze. Without thinking, he opened one of the storage cupboards and pushed twenty-two towards it. “hide!” he hissed when twenty-two resisted. “you can’t be seen here, you need to hide.” Through the mask of his muzzle, twenty-two’s eyes were narrowed, but he quickly complied. Rus closed the door behind him just as the janitor rounded the corner. He stopped for a second and adjusted his glasses, as if surprised to see Rus. Rus greeted him with a wave and a weak smile.

“You looking for something, love?” the janitor asked.

“no, no, i’m alright,” Rus said. “just uh—getting more tranquiliser.”

The janitor lifted a thick brow. “Don’t you have a stock cupboard in your ward?”

Rus swallowed, nodding slowly. “yes… they just sent me to restock.” He could hear the mana pounding in his skull, his soul so loud it might have been echoing off the walls.

“Ah, alright then. Thought they normally got the aides to do that, but what do I know. Guess the doctors aren’t busy enough these days!” He chuckled to himself, and Rus forced a smile. “Need any help finding it?”

Rus shook his head. “nope! don’t bother yourself. thank you.”

“I’ll leave you be then. Come visit again, no one else bothers.” The janitor ambled on, resuming his whistling. Rus waited until he’d turned the corner before opening the cupboard. Twenty-two gave him a disgruntled look and Rus grimaced.

“you can look at me like that when you get caught,” he muttered.

At the end of the corridor they came to a fork. Far to their left, down a stretch of empty passageway, was a frame of light—and a door. Daylight. Rus guided Edge down the corridor, their feet scuffling loudly against the concrete. When they reached the end, he scanned his card and the door clicked open.

They were hit with a wave of heat. The open desert stretched ahead of them, barred only by the perimeter fence. Sand kicked up around their feet, and Rus had never been so relieved for it.

He fumbled the key into the lock of twenty-two’s cuffs, stumbling back when twenty-two sank to his knees in the sand. He tore off the muzzle and tossed it aside, grasping at handfuls of dirt. His sockets were wide and glazed as he let the sand trickle between his fingers. His mouth hung open and his breathing was heavy.

Rus glanced around anxiously, half-expecting a team of security to leap out from behind a bush. “i don’t know how to get past the fence,” he said, “this is where my clearance ends, i’m sorry.”

Twenty-two didn’t look at him, his eyes fixed on the stretching desert ahead. “How far to the city?”

“about thirty miles.”

He nodded and stood up, walking towards the fence. “Good. I can walk.”

“but you—” Rus stared in a mingle of awe and horror as he climbed the full height of the fence with startling agility, hooking his bony fingers and bare feet between the mesh. When he reached the barbed wire, he paused for only a moment before gripping it with both hands and pushing it aside. A startled gasp bubbled from Rus’s throat. Even from this distance, he could see the bloody scrapes on twenty-two’s hands as he scrambled over the wire. He landed on the other side with little more than a grunt. His jumpsuit was torn and his bones cut and bloody. It was almost comedically horrific.

Rus shrunk back as twenty-two turned around to look at him. “Don’t follow me.” Without another word, he ran off and disappeared into the desert.

#spicyhoney #papcest #us papyrus #uf papyrus #my writing #doctor rus #patient edge #hospital setting #asylum #forced institutionalisation #dehumanisation

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komorebirei · 5 years

Text

The Water Was Never Afraid - Chapter 15: Indulge

(AO3)

I’m already out… it can’t hurt. I’ll just see if she’s home, Chat Noir reasoned.

He did a swift about-face by the Louvre and made his way back toward the Ȋle Saint-Louis.

It was Sunday evening, the sun was still out, and he had just finished his brief meeting with Ladybug. Nothing remarkable, as usual, but it was nice to get out and stretch his legs.

The week had been particularly busy, with deadlines looming, and Adrien had been working into the evening nearly every day, taking breaks only to spend time with Kagami or his father.

That meant no clandestine rendezvous with Marinette.

Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t incessantly think about her. All he had been wanting to do all week was to don the magic suit, vault across Paris, and throw twigs at his Princess’ balcony doors until she came out.

However… self-control.

Now, though, fate had brought him somewhat near her apartment, and in the supersuit no less, so he latched onto the excuse to indulge in a visit.

As he crossed the Seine, his enhanced hearing picked up something subtle in the air. Music, if he could call it that.

When he arrived, the French doors were thrown open, and he could now clearly hear the sounds of a piano coming from within.

“Princess,” he called out, trying to sound suave instead of desperate.

The sound of the piano stopped, and Marinette’s head peeked out the door. Her eyes immediately locked onto his as he perched on the branch.

“Why, Princess,” he affected a dramatic tone, “I decided to go out on a limb and hazard a guess that you were home. And how happy I am that you are! You look radiant, sweet Princess.”

“Oh, Minou,” she rolled her eyes and indicated with a gesture that he was welcome to her balcony. “Such a clown, as always.”

“Well, this humble jester would be delighted to have the honor to make his Princess laugh.” He bounded onto her balcony and gave her a deep bow.

“Chat, you’re too much!” Marinette laughed, shoving him lightly.

Chat Noir melted under her touch. Do that again, Princess. He trailed her as she made her way back toward the French doors. “Did I hear a piano? I didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t, as you can probably tell. Though, I’m trying to learn.” Marinette shrugged and looked over her shoulder at Chat, one hand on the door. “I just got home, so I was unwinding a little before getting down to work. Wanna come in?”

Chat nodded gratefully. “You have to work tonight?” He tried to recall whether he was supposed to know she worked at Gabriel or not, and decided to play it safe. “Where do you work, Princess?”

“I’m an intern for Gabriel… and it’s not that I have to, I really just want to be prepared. This week we’re presenting winter concepts and I want to put together a few fabric samples to demonstrate my ideas, since some of them might be hard to understand from just sketches.”

“So thorough. I love that about you, Marinette.”

She turned to look at him, and her blue eyes were so clear that he was afraid for a moment she could see him through the mask, that the way he’d said it was too ‘Adrien’ and not enough ‘Chat.’ Did he cross the line? Friends complimented each other like that, didn’t they?

“Well, then, Princess,” Chat grinned, laying it on thick to cover his insecurity. “Back to the topic of piano. What piece are you learning?”

“Well…” Marinette twisted a lock of hair between her fingers in an adorable nervous gesture. “I mean, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Satie’s Gymnopedie No. 1? I read online that it’s a good piece for beginners and I thought it was pretty… I kind of know how to read music from playing the violin for a couple years in école, but it’s been a while and I’m extremely slow.” She giggled nervously as she made her way to an electric piano that was set up on the side of the room.

“Is this piano new?” Chat hovered behind her as she sat down on the bench.

“Yeah, I just got it this week.” Marinette continued to play with her hair self-consciously. “Kind of an impulsive purchase, but… I’ve been wanting to learn an instrument for a while. I love music, and it’s nice to have a hobby for when I need a breather from designing.”

“Hmm… that makes sense.” Chat smiled at her fondly. “Why piano?”

Marinette blushed, inexplicably. “Piano’s a good instrument… I mean, a lot of people start with piano, right?” She laughed—the kind of laugh intended to diffuse embarrassment.

Chat cocked his head, curious about the reason behind her obvious discomfort.

“Okay, I’ll admit it.” Marinette twisted on the bench to face him, wearing a sheepish expression. “The reason I picked piano is… I have a friend who plays the piano. Since I’ve known him, I’ve paid attention to piano music more, and it’s inspired me to start learning.”

Chat’s breath caught. Could that friend be him, perchance? Was the dusting of pink on her cheeks only a result of his rose-colored glasses, or was she really blushing? “Ah… really?”

“Yes, he plays very well. It’s because of him that I love the piano.” Marinette’s eyes crinkled in an earnest smile, then she turned back to the keys and laid her hands on them tentatively.

Chat Noir was afraid to ask who that friend might be. At least, uncertainty allowed him to indulge in hope that he had inspired Marinette in some way. He reached out and raised one of Marinette’s hands slightly, careful not to scratch her with his claws. “Raise your hands and round your fingers. Like this.” He demonstrated with his own hand.

Marinette looked at him in awed surprise. “Hold on, Chat Noir, you know how to play?”

“A little…” He shrugged in faux modesty. “I’ve played since I was five, after all.” He gave her an exaggerated wink to show he was being light-hearted and was only pretending to boast.

“Oh, I didn’t know!” Marinette squealed. “Play something!”

He lifted his hand and waved his fingers. “Can’t, Princess. Have you seen these clawsome paws?”

Marinette pouted.

He probably could have played, but there would be a lot of clicking, and he’d scratch her brand new piano. Plus, he didn’t want to dissuade her from trying. He grinned. “Maybe if you meet me as a civilian.”

“Don’t be silly, Chat. Okay, at least help me then, and don’t laugh. I’m horrible.”

“No, you’re just a work in progress. Now, enough attempts to get out of playing.” He nudged her. “Go ahead.”

She played the opening chords, with long pauses in between, looking back and forth between the sheet music and her hands. When the melodic line was supposed to start, she abruptly folded her hands in her lap. “Ugh. I can’t.”

“What are you talking about, Princess?” Chat cried. “You were doing great!”

“That’s as far as I’ve gotten so far.”

Chat stroked his chin. “It might help if you started memorizing measure by measure, so you don’t have to figure out the notes each time. When I was first learning, I took it slow figuring out the way the piece was supposed to sound and where my hands were supposed to go. I couldn’t play anything up to speed until I had it memorized. But the more you get used to processing the score, the easier it gets to sight-read.”

“That seems like a good tactic—I’ll try. Thanks, Chat.” Marinette smiled. “Anyway, I don’t want to bore you with this.”

“I’m not bored at all, Princess. I’m actually really excited you’re learning to play. If you want to continue, I’ll help you.”

“Help me?”

“Put your hands on the keys. Let’s pick up where you left off…”

When she did, he shifted her fingers around so they were on the right keys, and nodded. She pressed. He tapped the fingers on her right hand one by one to indicate the melodic notes. She followed his lead.

They continued like that for some time, not speaking. The stuttering rhythm of chords played out of time was the only sound that filled the space.

“See? You played the whole first page. That’s not hard, is it?” Chat’s hand lingered on hers.

“I guess not.”

Chat let go and stepped away painfully. “Keep practicing, Princess. You’ll be amazing in no time.”

“I don’t know about that, but… thanks for your help, Chat Noir.” She gave him a bright smile. “Would you like some macarons? Maman brought some over when she came to visit this morning.”

“Sure, Princess. Yes, please.” He caught himself before saying, ‘I missed the Dupain-Cheng macarons’—Chat Noir hadn’t ever had any, not even during that misguided brunch eight years ago. He took a seat at the table—solid polished wood, stained a rosy brown.

“With tea? Or coffee?” Marinette called from the kitchen area.

“Whatever you’re having.” Chat played with the cuffs on his suit and looked around her apartment. He had been so distracted by his revelation last time, he hadn’t really paid much attention to his surroundings.

The space wasn’t large, but it felt bright and inviting. The white walls were decorated with framed fashion illustrations by other designers, among which Chat Noir recognized his father’s work. White shelves built into recessed areas of the walls were lined with books—mostly related to fashion or art, but there were some novels and books of poetry as well. “Milan Kundera?” he asked, glimpsing a title he didn’t expect to see.

“I love his writing!” Marinette piped up cheerfully. “It’s beautiful. The Unbearable Lightness of Being really left an impression on me.”

“I read it a few years ago. I don’t remember all that much about the plot, except that I really liked it.”

“It wasn’t so much the plot that I liked about it,” Marinette mused. “More the way he described things. And captured the essence of people and emotions.”

Chat nodded, making a mental note to read it again.

The palette of Marinette’s decor had expanded beyond the pinks of her adolescence. Splashes of color brightened the room—an orange armchair, a fuschia vase. A string of colorful mini paper lanterns dangled from one corner of a curtain rod to the floor.

The flat was clean, cheerful, and warm, just like Marinette.

She soon joined him with macarons and two cups of tea. “I hope this is okay. Oolong tea—I don’t put sugar in it, but I can get some for you if you want…?”

“No sugar. Thanks, Princess.” He grinned, accepting the refreshments. The macarons were green and pink-orange. “What flavors are the macarons?”

“Matcha and passion fruit.”

Chat Noir couldn’t stop grinning. “My favorite!”

“Which one?”

“Uh…” Chat Noir wondered how common it was to have passion fruit as a favorite flavor. Marinette had already found out today that he could play the piano. How many clues could he get away with dropping before she figured him out? Though it was tempting the test the answer to that question, he decided to play it safe. “Both? I like them both.” He picked a matcha one to eat first.

Marinette looked pleased about this. She took a nibble of a passion fruit one. “Weird combination I guess, but the creamy bitterness of the matcha offsets the tangy sweetness of the passion fruit. That’s why I asked for these two flavors. Plus, the colors look pretty together. Don’t you think, Chaton?” She winked.

“You have the best taste, Princess.” Chat Noir smiled at her tenderly, disarmed by the wink. Taking a sip of oolong tea, he fell silent, contemplating a question that had he had been wanting to ask her. Of all people, she seemed like someone who would have a good answer. “Marinette, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He hesitated. Even though it was a perfectly normal concern, he still didn’t feel comfortable talking about this to anyone. He bit his lip.

“What is it, Minou?” Now she looked worried.

He gave her a small smile to allay her worries, but it fell away before he spoke. “How do you help a person heal from losing someone?”

Marinette put down the macaron she was eating. “Chaton… is this why you were so upset the other day? Did you lose someone?”

“I…” Chat Noir balked. He hadn’t really thought of it that way—his mother had already been missing from his life for eight years. “Yes, but… it’s my father. He hasn’t been taking it well, and I want to help him, but I have no idea if I’m doing it right.”

“Oh, Minou…” Marinette sighed and pursed her lips, looking down at her hands. She seemed to be considering very carefully what to answer.

“Sorry to dump that on you,” Chat Noir murmured, wishing he could take it back.

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” she emphasized. “I’m just trying to think. I’ve never lost anyone in my immediate family, so I’m not entirely sure what it’s like… but when Maman’s mother passed away, she used to write a letter to her every night. She’d put the letters in this special box. After a year of doing that, she burned all the letters… I was really young at the time, so I didn’t fully understand, but she always seemed happier after writing a letter. Maybe something like that might help.” She shrugged apologetically. “Sorry I don’t have any better advice.”

“Hmm…” Chat Noir pressed a finger to his lips in thought. “No, that’s a good idea, actually.”

“Are you okay?”

He looked up to see Marinette gazing at him in concern. A smile sprang to his lips automatically. “Of course, Princess, don’t worry about me!”

In spite of his words, she got up and circled around him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. He felt her cheek press against the back of his head, and the vibration of her voice as she spoke: “Don’t forget, I’m here for you. If you’re ever not okay, just come and I’ll give you hugs and snacks.”

Chat Noir’s heart was doing somersaults, but he played it cool. “Snacks, Princess? You just sealed the deal.”

“Silly cat.”

He squeezed her arms. He’d trade all the snacks in the world to hug this girl for the rest of his life.

It was when that thought popped into his mind that a moment of clarity hit Chat Noir. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right for him to be thinking of another girl this way, and not his girlfriend. He hadn’t even thought about Kagami all night—he couldn’t live a lie anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending with Kagami that nothing had changed, and that he felt the same way she did. It wasn’t fair to her. It would be kinder to break up with her than to continue doing this.

“What are you thinking about, Minou?” Marinette’s voice near his ear was soft as feathers.

His insides were churning as if he’d ingested poison. “Ah… nothing. Just… grateful that we’re friends.” He stood up, dislodging her arms, leaving his macaron half-eaten and tea barely touched. “Sorry, but I need to go. Thank you so much for everything.”

Marinette looked at him in alarm, sensing his agitation. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Princess.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not. I just… sorry. I can’t stay.” He made his way toward the balcony doors, mind buzzing with the sense of wrongness and determination to make things right.

“Wait!” Marinette ran after him, panic rising. “What happened? If it’s my fault—I’m sorry!”

His heart broke at the thought of leaving her distressed and worrying about his sudden departure. Spinning around, he caught her in his arms and embraced her tightly, breathing in her scent. “You did nothing wrong, Princess,” he murmured into her hair. “There’s just something I need to fix. See you later…” Kissing the top of her head so lightly she probably didn’t feel it, he released her and left through her balcony without looking back.

#Miraculous Ladybug #MiraculousLadybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #MiraculousLadybugFanfiction #Marichat #Adrigami #Adrienette #The Water Was Never Afraid

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millenniumhprp · 5 years

Text

“Gina my love, I absolutely loved your application. Your original character sounds fantastic and I can’t wait to see him on the dash. ~Admin M

Congrats Gina! You have been accepted to play as Benjamin Cooper (FC: Chance Perdomo)! Now, you have 48 hours to create your blog and follow our checklist. Once completed, please send a message to the main page and we will provide the link to the OOC blog / Discord.

In the meantime, if you have any questions regarding the process, just send us a message here and we’ll be happy to answer you. Great job! We can’t wait to see how you bring your character to life. Happy RPing!

Name: Gina

Preferred Pronouns: She / Her

Age: 23

Time Zone: MST-AZ

Activity level: I work for local news, so sometimes can be swept away easily for work – plus my shift is odd. However, I will try to get on every single night, if not every other day. <3

Previous Roleplaying Experience: over 12 years of forums and tumblr alike haha

How did you find out about Millennium? I’m an admin and set it up :P

What are you most excited for in the RP? THE TOURNAMENT – and older characters 😊

Anything Else: [removed]

IN CHARACTER

Character’s Name: Bejamin Cooper

Face claim: Chance Perdomo

Preferred Pronouns: He / Him

Age: 17

School: Hogwarts

Year: 7th

Blood-Status: Half-blood

House: Slytherin

How do they feel about their house placement? Indifferent. He does not want his house to define him. Only himself and his actions.

Job: During the summers with his mother, something in the Muggle world.

Biography: (tw: abuse & alcoholism)

Vola anima per aeterna - fly through eternal life.

Growing up was something of a difficulty for Benjamin. His father was a Pureblood – descendent from the Nott family – and emphasized the need for the young boy to learn magic when Benjamin first started showing his abilities at a young age. His mother was a Half-Blood, raised by a Muggle-born mother herself. Thus, she pleaded with her husband frequently that Benjamin needed the chance at a normal life without magic or the wizarding world. Especially since her own mother died in a tragic accident due to the aftermath of a battle from the first wizarding war. She wanted to give her son another option – knowing that a storm was coming. She saw how dangerous it was and didn’t want her only child growing up in such a dangerous place – and had another life to escape to if need be. Often, their screams from their fights shook the house, sending Benjamin into tears as he tried to cover his ears to block out the world. Drown it with his own thoughts and dreams. All while hiding in the back of the broom closet. Later, Benjamin learned that his father manipulated him many times. The Nott family was keen on memory charms and influence – making impressions and dictating many decisions often by corrupt ways. Out of guilt from thinking he was causing his parents fight, Benjamin often hid away or sometimes even ran. But one day, he didn’t have to. His father, suitcases in hand, left with another woman while his mother was left crying. Out of spite, Benjamin took his mother’s last name, protecting her as the new war began.

Raising him as a single parent, Benjamin’s mother moved them to a two-bedroom house right on the shore-line of Weymouth, Dorset in England. It was away from the center of the war, but another waged at home. His mother was in a drunken state most of the time, leaving the boy to write to himself, feeling lost in the world. She even took him out of Hogwarts during his fourth year – fearing the war would take her precious boy away. He went to a Muggle boarding school but missed the halls and corridors of Hogwarts. His home. Afterall, there, he thrived academically, particularly in potions. He liked to tinker with them, making them better. And in charms, he did the same. His journal was filled with ideas and potential inventions. Even so, Benjamin still practiced magic, eager to return once the war was over.

Now that the school is reopened, Benjamin has refused to finish Muggle school and told his mother that he is returning to Hogwarts. No matter what. Of course, she was distraught, and still has not come around. The fear of the Triwizard Tournament clouds her mind, wanting to keep Benjamin as far away as possible. However, he doesn’t need her protection. He’s fine on his own – witty, intelligent, cunning…qualities he knows are passed down from his father. All Benjamin wants is to be his own self, independent, and make his name known to the world. Not a Nott – nor a Half-Blood. Simply Benjamin Cooper. And he will stop at nothing to get his way.

What will your character bring to the RP? A male character split between the traits of his parents and the ambition to be his own person. He’s got the wit and tendencies of a villain, but longs to be good. I want to toy with the light and dark of a soul theme – and let Benjamin find his own way.

Patronus: Gray Wolf

Wand: 11 ½ inches, slightly springy, alder wood, unicorn hair core.

Head Canons:

· During his first school-years at Hogwarts, in the summertime, his mother (a professor at the University) would be sure that Benjamin had full knowledge of the history of the Muggle World as well. Many times, she gave him books to read and take at least one Muggle-schooling course. Although, the war had caused her paranoia and thus led her to be more distant. Benjamin would then browse the library in their home on his free will whenever he decided to visit. After years of studying, he finds that he likes literature from the Muggle world and learning its history; because of this, Benjamin has a burning desire to travel, but also incorporate magic.

· Benjamin is pansexual; however; aromantic. While he enjoys sexual encounters, he does not actively seek love or feel it often. In fact, he is often even more satisfied with friendships and other non-romantic relationships. He thinks this may change because he’s never been in love and goes in with an open mind. Benjamin’s severely insecure and does not believe in love due to his parents.

· To keep a savings in mind, Benjamin worked a part-time job during the summer holidays. Oddly enough, at a bakery that is owned by his elderly neighbors. After his father left, his mother wanted to move out of London completely and migrated them towards the sea-side in Weymouth, Dorset England. The ocean did wonders for Benjamin, allowing him to gain a sense of wonder and appreciation for Muggle life even more. The summer meant he could swim, relax, and study. His neighbor, Lyle, was elderly and allows Benjamin to take his sailboat out if he cleans it up and also gave him his part-time job at his wife’s bakery. Discipline and responsibilities come with a job, which is what Benjamin believes he needs to become a man; to have courage and never let himself standby and watch any other horrible event pass before his very eyes.

Extras: Jupiter by Sleeping at Last

Para Sample: (tw: abuse, fighting, & alcoholism)

“Look at him, Camilla! He��ll never amount to anything.” Nathaniel Nott shouted to his wife as she held a younger, four-year-old version of Benjamin.

“He’s just a boy! Of course he won’t with you talking like this!” Camilla bent down, wiping the tears from Benjamin’s reddened cheeks, “Sweetheart, go to your room…please…”

All the young boy could do was look at his mother, saddened by how she seemed so broken. Every night was the same. His mother, fearing magic, did not want the boy to learn it when it became time that he would get the letter from Hogwarts. She feared it because it had killed her own mother - but Nathaniel, his father, tried to reason that it was dark magic that had done that. And with the tantrums Benjamin sometimes had, he was proven to show signs of magic with lights faintly flickering from time to time when he cried. Nathaniel, from pleading with his mother, led to arguments and fights - leaving all parties saddened greatly. Seeing the look in his father’s eyes, Benjamin quickly ran up the stairs, hiding in the broom closet with his knees hugged to his chest.

Some years later, even after Nathaniel left, the pain of being different; a freak; grew worse…

While growing up, Benjamin was faced with many issues. First his abuse, his mother becoming an alcoholic, and his father leaving. It made him feel unwanted and uncared for….as if he was the cause for all the issues. As if he were to blame. If that was what love was, he wanted none of it. Unfortunately, at home was not the only place where his insecurities thrived.

At age twelve, despite having gotten the letter from Hogwarts, Camilla refused to let her son learn magic at first. In the end, he started a year later than most Hogwarts students, making him feel behind and stupid. However, it was not his fault. As his mother tried to raise him as “normal”, Benjamin knew in his heart that he didn’t belong. It became evident as he was starting to be brought up in Muggle schooling, unable to control his magic when his emotions were heightened.

Being an awkward, shy boy, Benjamin was always bullied. Whenever the kids would push him or tease him, the bullies would suddenly trip on thin air. And one day, the boys were going too far. They began calling the young boy names saying that he was talking to the ‘Devil’ when he would whisper in his sleep at nap time (from nightmares) or utter words that he remembered his father saying when practicing and showing him simple spells.

They kicked the back of his desk, threw papers at him, pushed his arms, and even put gum in his hair. And while trying to control his anger, the young Benjamin’s temper slipped, making the teacher’s desk move forward and even start to lift before Benjamin fell to the ground, scared and shaking.

“You freak!” he heard a young girl scream and all he could do was crawl up from the ground and run. He ran until he reached his house where Benjamin hugged his knees to his chest and cried back to his broom closet, where the lights flickered from his hurricane of emotions. The young boy was confused, scared, and angry. He had no idea what to do. But the gentle touch of his mother’s hand on his shoulder was the only comfort he felt at the time. He always thought he was a freak.

Even now, Benjamin still feels out of place. Having finally been social at new Muggle schools when he was pulled from Hogwarts, it had done him a lot of good, but a lot of harm as well. He craved to be “normal” or at least fit in. He didn’t want to cause any pain that he felt when he was younger. To him, he was scared to death of being his father, but he was also terrified of being that boy once more. Benjamin has many fears; thus, those fears are his insecurities. Although he must be careful to not let them get in the way as he returns to Hogwarts – a new, improved, young man.

#accepted #chance perdomo #Hogwarts #Slytherin #harry potter roleplay #harry potter next generation rp

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horrorkingdom · 3 years

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Ubloo, Part Three

I watched the white lines in the middle of the highway disappear one by one under the hood of my car as I sped down the interstate. If I watched them long enough they would eventually just bleed into one long hazy line of white in a sea of asphalt, and then I would snap out my stare, and they would be separate again.

I reached over to the passenger side seat and grabbed my pint of gin. It’s sad how good I’ve gotten at twisting the cap off with one hand, while the other is on the wheel. I took a big swig and finished the bottle, then tossed it out my driver’s side window and heard the glass shatter in a satisfying splash.

“It had to have been microsleep.” I kept telling myself. I don’t know if I was finally starting to lose it or if I’d already drunk too much by noon and was just rambling, but I had to somehow rationalize the fact that I’d seen Ubloo, and not heard him afterwards.

In the end I chalked it up to hallucinations brought on by the lack of sleep, and told myself that I would try to get at least 5 hours tonight. For the past few weeks I’ve been running on just about 4 hours a night, or however long I can stomach those terrifying nightmares.

In my rear-view mirror I checked on the box that housed Robert Jennings’ things. Today was finally the day I would learn what that book meant. I can’t tell you how long I compared this writing to samples on my laptop for, and it wasn’t until a very blind stroke of luck that I figured out what it actually was.

I was sitting at a hotel bar in Pennsylvania when a man came and sat next to me. We made some small talk at first but I think he was scared off a bit by my disheveled appearance. We drank in silence for a few minutes and then he broke it abruptly.

“You can read that shit?” He said, all but gracefully.

“Unfortunately no.” I sighed. “In fact I’m just trying to figure out what language it is to be completely honest.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his beer and started picking at the label. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Sure, just be very careful with it.” I slid the book over to him carefully. He opened the front cover and flipped through the first couple pages.

“Well I tell you.” He began. “It’s some sort of African writing.”

My ears perked up at this.

“African?” I asked hopefully.

“Yeah I used to be a security guard at the National History Museum over in New York City. I swear I saw some shit just like this in there.”

I didn’t even bother thanking the man. I grabbed the book from him and sprinted up to my hotel room to begin working. I must have wrote damn near 500 e-mails that night, with a small sample of the writing attached, to every African history professor, museum curator and African language translator I could find an address for.

That’s how I met Eli.

Eli was a retired African history professor living in Natchez, Mississippi. The e-mail he sent back seemed a little surprised and excited all at once. He told me that this writing was an almost extinct language that he learned translating documents for a professor while studying for his doctorate. I told him that I would pay any sum of money should he help me translate this book, as long as I hand deliver it to him and he reads it directly to me. I couldn’t risk losing this book in the mail, and besides, Natchez was right on my route to the Louisiana house.

I had finished reading Robert’s Journal about two weeks ago. He wrote about the dreams, how hard the burden was to bear and how it was affecting his family life. Robert went knocking on one of his tenant’s doors, after not hearing from him (or receiving the rent) for weeks. He let himself in and found him there, wrists slit in the bathtub. Apparently a pair of his old jeans were laying on the bathroom floor, and in a pocket Robert found a picture of the Louisiana house, with the address “hastily” scribbled on the back of it. I found it curious that he made no mention of where he found the other book though.

Robert also theorized about what exactly Ubloo was trying to do. He seemed to believe it was some vengeful spirit, feeding on our nightmares or fear. Truth be told his Journal wasn’t too useful, it was simply a recording of everything he’d been through in the three years he dealt with this curse.

I snapped out of my thoughts just in time to hear her scream.

K-THUMP

And then a big crash as my windshield spider-webbed inward. I swerved out of instinct and lost control of the car. It veered off the highway and down the embankment, throwing the woman from my hood and sending her rag-dolling across the landscape until she was stopped by a tree, and I heard her spine snap from the whiplash with a sharp pop.

My car finally slid to a stop and then I heard him.

“OH MY GOD! MARY!”

An old man was running down the embankment now over to where the woman lay.

“MARY! SWEETHEART PLEASE!”

He knelt down and cradled her head in his arms, her legs twisted into sickening shapes. He turned and looked at me, still in shock, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. It wasn’t until I had a half moment to collect myself that I realized the gravity of what just happened.

“BACK UP! I’M A DOCTOR!” I yelled, opening the door and running halfway over to the man.

“She’s DEAD you idiot! You KILLED her!” The old man sobbed into the hair on the top of his wife’s head.

I stopped halfway between my car and the tree. The two of them couldn’t have been younger than 70. A little up the road I noticed a car pulled off to the side. They must have broken down or gotten a flat, she was probably trying to flag me down, or maybe just standing too far into the lane.

“I’m sorry, I…” I stammered out, choking up. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You were fucking drunk you idiot!” He snapped back at me. “A drunk just like your old man! That’s what killed him and what killed your Mother too!”

I was taken aback by this.

“No, that’s not true!”

“It is!” The old man reached behind his back and pulled out a revolver. “Look what you’ve done boy! It’s all your fault!”

And with that, he cocked the revolver, put it in his mouth, and I watched his brains splatter out the back of his head in a burst of color.

I stood there in shock, listening to the still silence of the aftermath. I scratched the back of my head and stared at the man and woman. How the fuck am I going to get out of this? I scratched the back of my head again, what an odd moment for it to be tickling like this.

Then I felt my hair ruffle. I spun on my heel surprised and scared and there he was. His long trunk recoiling back towards his head and the long black pointed tongue hanging lazily out of the end of it. He stared at me with those deep black horrible eyes. So black I could see my reflection in them, the reflection of me standing there frozen in fear. He bobbed slowly up on his legs and back down almost gracefully. His head cocked to the side just a fraction of an inch and without any movement I heard it.

“Ubloo!”

I woke up to a gasp of hot stale air. The world came back to me slowly as I drank in my surroundings, and then everything flooded back at once. I had pulled over at a rest stop just outside of Natchez to take a leak and grab a coffee. I must have fallen asleep in the car.

“FUCK.” I slammed my hand onto the steering wheel.

I must have had at least 50 dreams with that thing and yet he still somehow managed to catch me off guard. I reached into my center console and pulled out the pill bottle of adderall. I threw two in my mouth and forced them down with a swig of gin.

For a second I sat there, head against the steering wheel fighting off my thoughts, and then I turned the key and started the car, and left the rest stop parking lot.

It took me about another half hour to get to where Eli lived. His house was large and old from the looks of it. His driveway was much longer than I was used to. The land surrounding his house stretched on for what seemed like forever. I guess city-living has made a place like this seem unnatural to me.

I drove my car to the front of his house and he came outside and waved. He had been expecting me, I called him when I was just about two minutes out. He was about my height but much older, in his late sixties. He had a full head of white hair and a white goatee to match it. His skin was wrinkled and he had a pair of half-framed glasses resting on his nose.

He lit up a cigarette as I got out of the car and stretched my legs.

“Afternoon Doctor.” He called from his front steps. “I must say I been mighty lookin’ forward to this book a’yours. Can’t find much that hasn’t been found a’ready, and if I have me the chance to translate some new discovery well, I guess we could call us even.”

He spoke with a thick Mississippi accent but he was understandable. He looked me over for a few seconds and then spoke again.

“My you look turrble Doctor. Long drive?” He asked me, with a tone of sincerity.

“Just a rough night.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. I opened the back door of my car and pulled the book out of its box. I shut the door and then studied the cover one last time in mystery as I walked over to Eli.

“Here she is.” I said handing over the book.

Eli took the book in his hands and pushed his glasses up to get a better look. He squinted at the cover in the sunlight for about three seconds before I saw his eyes widen and his mouth open slightly.

“Doctor.” He said gravely. “Where did you find this?”

“It was given to me by a friend.” I lied, but only half. “Why, what’s it called?”

Eli turned and stared at me for a long time, and I could almost see the gears in his head turning as he was starting to realize just why I looked so haggard.

“It’s a religious text.” He started, his voice wavering. “Written by a witch doctor from the Binuma Tribe.”

“Witch doctor?” I asked curiously. “Like voodoo?”

“Yes Doctor.” Eli turned to look at me as he spoke. “But not just any voodoo. The Binuma Tribe, and most specifically this witch doctor, are referred to in African folklore as one of the most ruthless in history.”

We stood there for a moment together on his front steps. With only the sound of the wind to keep us company.

“Well Doctor.” Eli began. “Let’s go inside, and make sure this ain’t a fake before we jump to such rash conclusions.”

We went inside together and Eli brought me to his study. He began examining the book, the text, the paper, everything. While he did this he had me running about doing various tasks for him. Pulling samples from his filing cabinets, looking up texts that he didn’t have on the internet, fetching sweet tea from the fridge. After about two hours he finally sat back in his chair and turned to look at me.

“Gosh a’mighty Doctor, this is the real deal.”

I was overjoyed to hear this. Truth be told I hadn’t even considered the possibility that this text was fake, and now that I was just minutes from answers about Ubloo, about how to stop or kill him, I finally felt a weight lift a little from my shoulders.

“So I tell you what.” Eli began. “I got a guest bed upstairs. If you have nowhere else to be you can shack up with me here and we can translate this book in—oh I don’t know—three days?”

My stomach dropped.

“I’m sorry Eli but that’s too much time.” He looked back up at me again. “I need to be back on the road by sundown.”

He looked surprised, and rightfully so.

“Hell, boy you look like you haven’t slept in days! Surely you can take one night off from the road?”

“I’m sorry but I’m running out of time.” I got up and walked over to where Eli had the book. “May I?”

“Well of course Doctor, it is yours after all.”

I flipped through the pages to the chapter I needed.

“Not anymore Eli.” I said as I got closer to the text I had to hear. “Once I leave this is yours, do whatever you like with it.”

I stopped finally on the page I needed. A crude picture of Ubloo stared up at me surrounded by text.

“Please, this is the text I need.” I said before he could ask anything.

Eli turned down to the page and read in silence for a few minutes, and as he did, I could see him understand. When he was finally done he turned and looked at me with big sad eyes.

“How long?” He asked.

“About two months.” I said back, my heart breaking with finally being able to tell someone who would understand.

“Jesus…” He said trailing off, and then; “one moment Doctor.”

He got up and walked to the kitchen, and came back with a tray. On it, two glasses full with ice, and a bottle of what looked like whiskey. I laughed, and for just a second I felt human again. Eli poured me a glass, then him, and we drank together in silence.

“So now you understand why I can’t stay.” I finally said.

“I do Doctor. Now, you might want to sit down for this, because it’s quite a long story.”

I took a seat next to Eli and braced myself, heart racing for what was coming next.

“This creature, this… thing, is called ‘Daiala Bu Umba.’”

“Daiala Bu Umba?” I asked curiously, feeling odd that these people didn’t come up with the same name both Robert and Andrew had.

“Yes, Daiala Bu Umba, this translates to ‘The One Who Shows.’”

A shiver ran down my spine as Eli continued on.

“It says here that this witch doctor was very powerful, and that his people—the Binuma Tribe—were being chased across the dessert by a rival clan. Rather than the clan hunt them down in battle, they sent their best warriors into the Binuma camp at night, and slaughtered them in their sleep.

The witch doctor was away, praying to the gods for his people to escape, but the gods had abandoned him for using voodoo to defeat his enemies, and his prayers were not answered. When he returned to camp, he found all of his tribe slaughtered in their beds, including his wife who was with child. The witch doctor was overcome with grief and hatred, and turned to his most powerful voodoo to exact vengeance on the rival clan, and abandon the gods that turned their backs on him.

He gathered everything of use he could find left behind by the raid; elephant tusks, snake skins, animal bones and anything that held any significant properties. He piled them together with the bodies of his fallen tribe and burned them all, chanting a voodoo curse all the while, a curse to be place on the rival clan, to summon a spirit that would haunt their sleep the way they haunted his Tribe’s.”

Eli stopped and looked up at me.

“Do you want me to keep going, Doctor?”

I took a sip of my whiskey and solemnly nodded.

“In a matter of days, the rival clan were all having horrific nightmares and could not sleep. They dreamt of being raided by other tribes and seeing their women and children raped and enslaved, of crops burning and dry seasons that never ended. Before long, the clan turned on each other, or took their own lives, until none remained.

But something was wrong. When the witch doctor heard the clan was destroyed he celebrated, but he continued to hear of people being afflicted by The One Who Shows. He realized that the beast he made could not be stopped, for it had an appetite for despair that could not be satisfied. One by one, people would be afflicted by the spirit, and when they died, it would pass on to another, and so on and so on.”

He stopped and looked back up at me and stared.

“Well? Could they stop it?” I asked

“It doesn’t say.” Eli said through his sadness. “It says that tribes began to exile anyone who contracted the deadly spirit, for it was impossible to fight. Leaving the spirit to be contracted by a different tribe.”

My stomach dropped entirely. Well that’s it. There’s no escape for me. I’m going to have to deal with Ubloo for as long as I live… Or as short as I live. I see now why Andrew and Robert took their lives.

My eyes began to well up and Eli poured me another glass of whiskey.

“I’ll understand if you want to get back on the road Doctor. I’ll keep translating and I’ll call you if I find anything that helps.”

I gulped down the whiskey in one shot and wiped my eyes on my sleeve.

“Thanks Eli.” I forced out. “Let me know, I’ll show myself out.”

I got up before he could stop me and headed for the front door. Before I could get down to my car Eli was in the doorway and called out to me.

“Doctor! Just where is it you’re going? If you don’t mind me asking.” He said, the sadness on his voice made the question hang in the evening air.

“To follow a dead man’s footsteps.” I answered. “That lead to somewhere in Louisiana.”

Eli stared back at me and his eyes began to well up with tears.

“Well I wish you the best Doctor. I can’t imagine the things you’ve seen and I won’t pretend to, but God bless you for fightin’.”

I nodded and opened my car door, but stopped and looked up at Eli.

“Daiala Bu Umba.” I said with a half laugh. “That’s a lot better than what I’ve been calling it.”

“What have you been calling it, Doctor?”

I stopped for a second and thought about just how silly the name I had for him was.

“Ubloo.” I said with a half-smile.

“Ubloo?” Eli looked at me confused.

“Yeah, that’s what it always says to me right at the end of a dream.” I hesitated. “Does it mean anything?”

Eli looked down at me with a stare I will never forget, a look in his eyes that I know he will never give to another man in his life, and he said:

“Yes Doctor. Ubloo is short for ‘Ubua Loo.’”

The wind blew gently between us and the grass swayed in the waning sunlight as I awaited what would most likely be the last thing I’d ever hear from him.

“It means wake up.”

Credit To – DifferentWind

#horror #creepy #horror community #creepy photo #creepypasta #spooky #dark stories #dark aesthetic

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