#the real reason that I haven't finished it was because I kept telling myself I'd stay up late and finish it

[martyrofacrimescene]

I'm ACTUALLY going to start the next chapter of Filming Goncharov tonight I promise. If I don't do it then you have permission to hold me hostage until I write at least a page.

#I haven't touched it in months because I was too focused on other things #mainly Show Me #but that's been done for a while I have no excuse now #I also finished the one where Marco gets pegged but that was 21 days ago #and I could say I'm finally finishing tell me what you feel but that would be I lie I've hardly touched it #the real reason that I haven't finished it was because I kept telling myself I'd stay up late and finish it #but then I lay in my bed and wait a bit and I keep ending up falling asleep #I did this last night but I've had so much caffeine (like prolly 400 mgs atp) it's unlikely I'll fall asleep

[sapphosewrites]

For the ask game:

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished? - For 'Terok Nor AU'

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line - choosing 'An Influx of Bashirs'

↻ pick a fic and a different ship and I’ll tell you how I’d rewrite it - 'Necessary Storms' for Kira/Ezri!

Thank you, friend! You know I love an ask game <3

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

The easiest fic for me to write was Whisper a Dangerous Secret, because all I did was come up with a silly little ficlet, and then ectogeo did all the work of turning it into a whole real story with feelings and stakes! My tendency historically has been to say that whatever multichapter fic I finished most recently was the hardest, but I think the award is still held by I Will Choose Free Will, because it cut deep to my own fears about mortality and what it means to make a meaningful life.

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished? - For 'Terok Nor AU'

For the whole series? So so much! It was supposed to end with the arrival of the Federation, but everyone kept leaving such delicious comments and giving me more and more ideas about how to keep it going. Julian and Garak were also supposed to have successfully gotten together already, but every time I sat down to write the scene where it was meant to happen (and it was meant to have happened multiple times by now), I found myself reveling in the tension and angst instead. Originally, I hadn't even decided if it was Section 31 specifically that Julian was running from, and now I've got Sloan running around in season 1! It keeps surprising me, but that's become part of the fun.

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line - choosing 'An Influx of Bashirs'

Ooh, I haven't thought about this fic in a little while, thank you for inviting me to return to it. I'm going to go with...

Once he could have withstood it, but that was before Tain sent an assassin after him and Mila thought that Tain was the one who needed saving, before Tain dangled redemption in front of him along with Mila’s life, before Tain died finally and forever and Garak realized he would never return home and Mila’s face on a viewscreen was the only family he had left.

Which is really angsty, but I like the rhythm of that sentence for reasons I can't articulate.

I'm also delighted to be reminded of this fic in tandem with the Terok Nor AU series, because you reminded me that I had once intended to add a one-shot of canon Julian meeting his Terok Nor AU self!

↻ pick a fic and a different ship and I’ll tell you how I’d rewrite it - 'Necessary Storms' for Kira/Ezri!

Now this is interesting! Kira wasn't in that fic, so the first big question is how to get her there. It's possible she and Ezri are married, and she's become a Starfleet Spouse in parallel to Garak, but I don't see her easily agreeing to leave Bajor to join a starship. Unless, again parallel to Garak, something has forced her to leave Bajor, maybe a political push she couldn't agree with? Like a return to d'jarra? Or maybe her past ties to Odo or something have made her unpalatable to the masses, or maybe there's another isolationist movement and she's too close to the Federation... It's an interesting question to consider, but for these purposes let's keep her with Bajor and have something bring her to Trill. I could see her as already in a relationship with Ezri before the story starts, joining to investigate maybe because Ezri has gone incommunicado and she's worried? Or she also gets kidnapped like Julian because she was close to Dax and knows about the symbiosis commission's secret. Then she and Ezri are in captivity together, and maybe that could provide the space and push for them to admit feelings for each other... Or, if I were really going to restructure the story, maybe what I'd do is have the crew request Kira's help as an expert in resistance movements, to infiltrate or otherwise interact with the uprising, to help rescue Julian and Ezri. And then Garak and Kira have to team up to save their partners.

This is a really fun question to consider, thanks for asking it!

[rjalker]

I uploaded the short story Marooned Under the Sea, by Paul Ernst to the Web Archive as PDF!

"https://archive.org/details/marooned-under-the-sea-by-paul-ernst"

You can read it directly on the Web Archive, and download it in multiple formats :) You can also listen to it there as a text-to-speech audiobook!

Originally published September 4th, 1930, in the magazine Astounding Stories of Super-Science! All of which you can read for free on Project Gutenberg!

"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=astounding+stories+of+super+science&submit_search=Go%21"

Haven't actually finished reading Marooned Under the Sea yet, but it's fun so far. Lots of cool fishies.

And you can also read the story under the cut here!

Marooned Under the Sea

By Paul Ernst

(Editor's note: This document, written on a curious kind of parchment and tied to a piece of driftwood, was reported to have been picked out of the sea near the Fiji Islands. The first and last pages were so water soaked as to be indecipherable.)

Yacht Rosa was due to leave the San Francisco harbor in two hours.

We were going on some mysterious cruise to the South Seas, the details of which I did not know.

"Professor George Berry, the famous zoologist, and myself are going to do some exploring that is hazardous in the extreme," Stanley had said. "For purely mechanical reasons we need a third. You are young and have no family ties, so I thought I'd ask you to go with us. I'd rather not tell you what it's all about until we are on our way."

That was all the explanation he had given. It was sufficient. I was fed-up with life just then: I had enough money to avoid work and was tired of playing.

Three men stick out a strange and desperate adventure among the incredible monsters of the dark sea floor.

"I must warn you that you'll risk your life in this," he had continued, in answer to my acceptance of his invitation.

And I had replied that the hazard, whatever it might be, only made the trip appear more desirable.

So here I was, on board the yacht, about to sail for far places on some scientific mission which had so far been kept veiled in secrecy and which was represented as "hazardous in the extreme." It sounded attractive!

Stanley came aboard accompanied by a lean, wiry man with iron gray hair and cool, alert black eyes.

"Hello, Martin," Stanley greeted me. "I want you to meet Professor Berry, the real leader of this expedition. Professor, this young red-head is Martin Grey, a sort of nephew by adoption who knows more about night life than most cabaret proprietors—and not much of anything else. He has shaken the dangers of the gold-diggers to face with us the dangers of the tropic seas."

The professor gripped my hand, and his cool black eyes gazed into mine with a kind of friendly frostiness.

"Don't pay any attention to him," he advised me. "Twenty years ago, when I first met him, he was on his way to Africa to shoot elephants because some revue beauty had just thrown him over and he felt he ought to do something big and heroic about it. It was shortly afterward that he decided to stay a bachelor all his life, and became such a confirmed woman hater."

He smiled thinly at Stanley's prod in the ribs, and the two went below, talking and laughing with the intimacy of old friendship.

I stayed on deck and soon found myself watching, with no little wonder, an enormous truck and trailer arrangement that drew up on the dock heavily loaded with a single immense crate. It was for us. I speculated as to what it could possibly contain.

It was a twenty or twenty-five-foot cube solidly braced with strap-iron and steel brackets. It evidently contained something fragile. The yacht's donkey engine lowered a hook for it, and swung it over the side and into the hold as daintily as though it had been packed with explosives.

The last of the ship's stores followed it over the side: the group of newspaper reporters who had been trying to pump the captain and first mate for a story were warned to leave, and we were ready to go. Precisely where and for what purpose?

I was to find out almost immediately.

Even as the yacht nosed superciliously away from the dock, the steward approached me with the information that lunch was ready. I went to the small, compactly furnished dining salon, where I was joined by Stanley and the professor.

There were only the three of us at the table. Stanley Browne, noted big game hunter and semi-retired owner of the great Browne Glassworks at Altoona, a man fifteen years my senior but tanned and fit looking; Professor Berry, well known in scientific circles; and myself, known in no branch of activity save the one Stanley had jested about—the night life of my home city, Chicago.

"It's time you knew just what you're up against," said Stanley to me after the consomme had been served. "Now that we've actually sailed, there's no longer any need for secrecy. Indeed there never has been urgent need of it: the Professor and myself merely thought we might provoke incredulity and comment if we stated the purpose of our trip publicly."

He buttered a roll.

"We—the Professor and you and I—are going in for some deep sea diving. And when I say deep, I mean deep. We are going to investigate conditions as they exist one mile down from the surface of the ocean."

"A mile!" I exclaimed. "Why—"

There I stopped. I had only a layman's knowledge of such matters. But I knew that the limit of man's submersion, till then at any rate, was a matter of a few hundred feet.

"Sounds incredible, doesn't it," said Stanley with a smile. "But that's what we're going to do—if the Professor's gadget works as he seems to think it will."

"I don't think it, I know it," retorted the Professor. "And man, man, the things we may see down there! New and unknown species—a world no human has ever seen before—perhaps the secret of all of life—"

"Dragons, sea-serpents, and what not!" Stanley finished with a grin.

"Or, possibly—nothing at all." The Professor shrugged. "I mustn't let my scientific curiosity run away with me. Perhaps we'll find no new thing down down. Our deep sea dredging and classification may already embrace most of the forms of life in the greater depths."

"If it does I want my money back," said Stanley. "When you asked me to finance this expedition for you, I agreed on condition that you would show me a thrill—some real big game, even if I would not be able to shoot it. If we draw blank—"

"The mere descent should satisfy you, my adventuring friend," replied the Professor brusquely. "I think you'll find that thrilling enough."

"But—a mile under the surface!" I marveled, feeling not entirely comfortable. "The pressure! Enormous! It can't be done! That is, I mean, can it be done?"

"It had better be," said Stanley with a humor that I did not entirely appreciate. "If it isn't, the three of us are going to be pressed out like three sheets of tissue paper! For we are assuredly going down that far in the Professor's gadget."

"Was that the thing I saw hoisted aboard just before we left?"

"That was it. We'll stroll around after lunch and look it over."

If I had taken this cruise in search of distraction—I was surely going to be successful! That was plain!

"Just where are we going?" I asked. "You said something about the South Seas, but you've named no special part of them."

"We're bound for Penguin Deep. That's a delightful little dimple in the Kermadec Trough, which," Stanley explained, "is north-northeast of New Zealand almost halfway up to the Fiji Islands. Penguin Deep is ticketed at five thousand one hundred and fifty feet, but it probably runs deeper in spots."

The rest of the meal was consumed in silence. I hardly tasted what I ate; I remember that. Over five thousand feet down—where no man had ever ventured before! Could we make it?

I tried to recall my neglected physics lessons and compute the pressure that far down. I couldn't. But I knew it must be an appalling total of tons to the square inch. What possible arrangement could they have brought in which to make that awful descent?

And, if the descent were accomplished, what in the world would we see when we got down there? Gigantic, hitherto unknown fishes? Marine growths, half animal and half vegetable?

Decidedly, hot rolls and salad, cutlets and baked potatoes, good as they were, could not distract attention from the crowding questions that assailed me. And I could see that Stanley and the Professor were also far away in their thoughts—probably already exploring Penguin Deep.

After lunch we went forward to look at the Professor's gadget, as Stanley insisted on calling it.

It had been carefully unpacked by the crew while we ate, and it shimmered in the electric lighted hold like a great bubble.

It was a giant glass sphere, polished and flawless. Inside it could be made out various objects—a circular bench arrangement on a wooden flooring, batteries that filled the cup between the floor and the bottom arc of the sphere, tall metal cylinders, a small searchlight set next to a mechanism that was indeterminate. At three equidistant points on the sides there were glass handles, as thick as a man's thigh, cast integral with the walls. On the top there was a smaller handle.

At first glance the sphere seemed all in one piece, with the central objects cast inside like a toy ship in a sealed bottle. Then a mathematically precise ring of prismatic reflections showed me that the top third of the ball was a separate piece, fitting conically down like the tapered glass stopper of a monstrous perfume bottle. The handle on the top was for the purpose of lifting this giant's teapot lid, and allowing entrance into the sphere.

"Isn't it a beauty?" murmured Stanley. "It ought to be," he added. "It cost me eighty-six thousand to make it in my own glass factory. Eleven castings before this one came along that was reasonably free of flaws. Twenty-two feet six inches over all, walls five feet thick, new formula unbreakable glass, four men working a month to grind the lid into place, tolerance limits plus or minus zero."

He slapped the Professor's shoulders. "Let's go in and look over the apparatus."

To accommodate the huge ball a well had been constructed in the Rosa's hold. This brought the deck we were standing on up to within six feet of the top ring, above which was rigged a chain hoist for lifting the ponderous lid.

The hoist was revolved, the conical top was swung free, and we clambered into our unique diving shell.

The tall cylinders were revealed as great flasks of compressed air. The indeterminate thing beside the searchlight turned out to be a hand pump, geared to work against heavy pressure. From the suction chamber of this three tubes extended.

"We inhale the air of the chamber," the Professor explained to me, "and exhale through the tubes into the pump cylinder. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. The pump piston is forced down by this geared handle, sending the used air out of the shell through this sixteenth-inch hole. A ball check valve keeps the water from squirting in when the exhaust pressure is released."

He pointed to a telegraphic key which completed a circuit from the batteries in the bottom of the ball to a thread of copper cast through the lid.

"That's your plaything, Martin. You are to raise or lower us by pressing that key. It controls the donkey engine electrically, so that we guide our own destinies though we are a mile beneath our power plant. Stanley works the pump. I direct the searchlight, write down notes, and, I sincerely hope, take snapshots of deep sea life."

For a moment my part of the labor seemed so easy as to be unfair. Merely to sit there and punch a little key at raising and lowering time! But as I thought it over it began to appear more difficult.

The Rosa could not anchor, of course, in a mile of water. We would drift helplessly. If we approached an undersea cliff I must raise us at once to prevent us being smashed against it. And if the cliff were too lofty to be cleared in time....

I mentioned this to the Professor.

"That would be unfortunate," he said, with his frosty smile. "Stanley assures us this glass is unbreakable. He means commercially unbreakable. What would happen to it if it were submitted to the strain of being flung against a rock pile—in addition to the enormous stress of the water pressure—I don't know. It's your job to see that we don't have to find out!"

It had been planned to test the sphere empty first to see how it stood the strain.

We drifted to a full stop over the center of Penguin Deep where we were to gamble our lives in a game with Neptune. Sea anchors were rigged to lessen our drift and the donkey engine was geared to the first cable drum.

There was an impressive row of these drums, each holding an interminable length of three-quarter-inch cable. The bulk of a mile of steel cable has to be seen to be believed!

The glass sphere was lifted from the hold, delicately for all its enormous weight, and swung over the rail preparatory to being lowered into the depths.

Not until that moment did I notice two things: that there was no fastening of any kind to keep the thick lid in place: and that the three-quarter-inch cable looked like a pack thread in comparison to the ponderous bulk it strained to support.

"We couldn't use a heavier cable," said the Professor, "because of the strain. We're overloading the hoist as it is. As for the lid being fastened down—I think you'll find it will be pressed into place securely enough!"

There was unanimous silence as the great globe slipped into the sea—down and down until the last reflection of the morning sun ceased to shimmer from its surface. Drum after drum was played out, till the first mate held his hand up to check the engineer.

"Five thousand feet, sir," he called to Stanley.

"Haul it back up. And let us hope," Stanley added fervently, "that we'll find the gadget in one piece."

The engine began to snort rhythmically. Dripping, vibrating, the coils of cable began to crawl back in place on the drums. There was a glint under the surface again as the sunlight reflected on the nearing sphere.

The great ball flashed out of the water, and a cheer burst from the throats of all of us. It was absolutely unharmed. Only—there was a beading of fine moisture inside the thick globe. What that could mean, none of us could figure out.

"Difference in temperature?" worried the Professor. "No, it's as cold inside as out. Molecules of water driven by sheer pressure through five feet of glass to unite in drops on the inside? Possibly. Well, there's one way to find out. Stanley, Martin—are you ready?"

We nodded, and prepared to visit the bottom a mile below the Rosa's keel. The preparation consisted merely in donning heavy, fleece-lined jumpers to protect us from the cold of the sunless depths.

Soberly we entered the ball to undergo whatever ordeal awaited us on the distant ocean floor. How comparative distance is! A mile walk in the country—it is nothing. A mile ascent in an airplane—a trifle. But a mile descent into pitch black, bone chilling depths of water—that is an immense distance!

Copper wire, on a separate drum, was connected from the engine switch to the copper thread that curled through the glass wall to my telegraphic key. We strapped the mouthpieces of the breathing tubes over our heads, and Browne started the slow turning of the compression pump.

The Professor snapped the searchlight on and off several times to see that it was in working shape. He raised his hand, I pressed the key, and the long descent began.

That plunge into the bottomless depths remains in my memory almost as clearly as the far more fantastic adventures that came to us later.

Smoothly, rapidly, the yellow-green of the surface water dimmed to olive. This in turn grew blacker and blacker. Then we were slipping down into pitch darkness—a big bubble lit by a meagre lamp and containing three fragile human beings that dared to trust the soft pulp of their bodies to the crushing weight of the deepest ocean.

The most impressive thing was the utter soundlessness of our descent. At first there had been a pulsing throb of the donkey engine transmitted to us by the sustaining cable. This died as we slid farther from the Rosa. At length it was hushed entirely, cushioned by the springy length of steel. There was no stir, no sound of any kind. As far as our senses could tell us, we were hanging motionless in the pressing, awesome blackness.

The Professor switched off our light and turned on the searchlight which he trained downward through the wall at as steep an angle as the flooring would permit. Even then the illusion of motionlessness was preserved. There was nothing in the water to mark our progress. We might have been floating in a back void of space.

Down and down we went, for an interminable length of time—till at length we reached the abysmal level where the sun never shone and the eyes of man had never gazed till now.

Words were made to describe familiar articles. I find now when I am faced with the necessity of portraying events and objects beyond the range of normal human experience that I cannot conjure up words to fit. I despair of trying to make you see what we saw, and feel what we felt.

But try to picture yourself in the glass ball with us:

All is profound blackness save for a streak of white, dying about fifty feet away, which is the beam of our searchlight. Twenty feet below is a bare floor of flinty lava and broken shell. This is unrelieved by sea-weed of any kind, appearing like an imagined fragment of Martian or lunar landscape.

The ball sways idly to the push of some explicable submarine current. It is like being in a captive balloon, except that the connecting cable extends stiffly upward instead of downward.

There is a realization, an instinctive feel of awful pressure around you. Logic tells you how you are clamped about, but deeper than logic is the intuition that the glass walls are pressing in on themselves—at the point of collapse. Your ears, tingle with the feel of it: your head rings with it.

You are breathing in through your nose—thin, unsatisfying gulps of air that cause your lungs to labor at their task; and you are exhaling through, your mouth, with difficulty, into the barrel of the powerful pump. No bubbles arise from the tiny hole where the used air is forced into the water. The pressure is too enormous for that. Only a thin, milky line marks its escape from the sphere.

In a ghostly way you see Stanley turning the pump handle. With a handful of waste which he has borrowed from the Rosa's engine room, the Professor wipes from the section of wall through which the searchlight plays the moisture that constantly collects there. I sit with my hand near the key, peering downward and ahead like an engineer in a locomotive cab, ready to raise the shell or lower it as occasion warrants.

And always the suffocating awareness of pressure....

Strange and mystic journey as the tortured glass sphere floated over the bottom, following the slow drift of the Rosa far above!

The finger of light played along the tilted side of a wrecked tramp steamer. There was a crumpled gash in the bow. From this ragged hole suddenly appeared a great, serpentine form....

The Professor clutched at his camera, pointed it, and clenched his hands in a frenzy of disappointment. The serpent shape had disappeared back into the hull. A little later and we had drifted slowly past the wreck.

"Damn it!" the Professor snatched away his mouthpiece to exclaim: "If we could only stop."

The bottom changed character shortly after we had passed the hulk. We began to creep over low, gently rounded mounds.

These were so regular in form that they were puzzling. About fifty feet across and ten in altitude, they looked artificial in their symmetry—like great saucers set on the ocean floor bottom side up. They took on a dirty black hue as our light struck them, and glowed with a faint phosphorescence as they stretched away into the darkness.

A twelve-foot monstrosity, all toad-like head and eyes, swam into the light beam and bumped blindly against the glass ball. For an instant it goggled crazily at us. The Professor took its picture. It blundered away. As it reached the darkness beyond the beam it, too, showed phosphorescent. A belt of blue-white spots like the portholes of a liner extended down its ugly sides.

Along the bottom, between the curious mounds, writhed a wormlike thing. But it was too huge to be described as truly wormlike—it was eighteen or twenty feet long and a foot thick. It was blood red, almost blunt ended and patently without eyes.

I took my gaze off it for an instant. When I looked again it had disappeared. I blinked at this seeming miracle and then discovered a foot or so of its tail protruding from under the edge of one of the mounds. It was threshing furiously about.

It was at this instant that I suddenly found increased difficulty, and glanced at Stanley.

He had stopped pumping and was clutching at the Professor's arm with one hand while he pointed down with the other. The Professor motioned him toward the pump, and began to click pictures furiously with the camera pointed at the nearest mound.

Wondering at the urgency of Stanley's gesture and the frantic clicking of the camera shutter, I looked more closely at the curious, saucerlike hump.

Under closer inspection something remarkably like a huge, mud-colored eye was revealed! And as we drifted along, twenty feet away on the farther slope, another appeared!

Paralyzed, I stared at the edges of the thing. They were waving almost imperceptibly up and down, creeping!

The mounds were living creatures! Acres and acres of them lying lethargically on the bottom waiting for something to crawl within range of their monstrous edges!

Involuntarily I pressed the key to raise us. But we had gone only a few feet when the Professor called to me.

"Down again, Martin. I don't think these things will bother us unless we scrape against them. Anyway they can't hurt the shell."

I lowered the ball to our former twenty-foot level, and there we swung just over the monsters' backs.

The Professor had said that the giant inverted saucers would probably not bother us if we did not come in contact with them. It soon became apparent that, in a measure, he was right. The creatures either could not or would not lift their enormous bulks from the sea floor.

A gigantic wriggling thing, all grotesque fringe and tentacles, drifted down into the range of our light. Lower it floated until it hovered just above one of the larger mounds. The Professor got its portrait. At the same instant, as though it had heard the click of the shutter and been frightened by it, the thing dropped another foot—and touched the sloping back.

With the speed of light the inverted saucer became a cup. Like a clenching fist, the cup closed over one of the straggling tentacles.

There followed a tug of war that was all the more ghastly for its soundlessness. The hunted jerked spasmodically to get away from the hunter. So wild were its efforts that several times it raised the monster clear of the bottom for a foot or so. But the grim clutch could not be broken.

Closer and closer it was dragged. Then, after a supreme paroxysm, the tentacle parted and the prey escaped. The tentacle disappeared into the mass of the baffled hunter. It made no attempt to follow the fleeing creature. It slowly relaxed along the bottom and waited for its next meal.

The unearthly incident gave us fresh confidence, convincing us that the monsters did not move unless they were directly touched. Of course we could not foresee the fatal accident that was going to put us within reach of one of the giant saucers.

We thought for awhile that these great blobs of cold life were the largest creatures of the depths. It was soon made clear to us how mistaken that notion was!

For a time we gazed spellbound at the nightmare assortment of grotesqueries that gradually assembled around us, attracted no doubt by our light. The things were mainly sightless and of indescribable shape. Most of them were phosphorescent, and they avoided collisions in a way that suggested that they had some buried sense of light perception.

As time passed the Professor emptied his camera, refilled it several times and groaned that he had no more film. Twice as we drifted along I raised us to keep us clear of a gradual upward slope of the smooth floor.

Stanley removed his mouthpiece long enough to suggest that we go back to the surface: we had been submerged for nearly four hours now. But before we could reply a violent movement was felt.

The ball rocked and twirled so that we were forced to cling to the circular bench to avoid being thrown to the floor. It was as though a hurricane of wind had suddenly penetrated the unruffled depths.

"Earthquake?" called Stanley.

"Don't know," answered the Professor. He swung the searchlight in an arc and focussed it at length on something that appeared only as a field of blurred movement. He wiped the moisture from the wall before the lens, and there was revealed to us a sight that makes my heart pound even now when I recall it to memory.

Something vast and serpentine had ventured too near the bottom—and had been caught by the death traps there!

The creature was a writhing mass of gigantic coils. It was impossible even to guess at its length, but its girth was such that the mound-shaped monsters that had fastened to it could not entirely encircle it.

There it twined and knotted: a mighty serpent of the deepest ocean, snapping its awful length and threshing its powerful tail in an effort to dislodge the giant leeches that were flattened against it. And every time it touched the bottom in its blind frenzy, more of the teeming deathtraps attached themselves to it, crawling over their fellows in an effort to find unoccupied areas.

Soon the sea-serpent was a distorted, creeping mass. For one appalling instant its head came into our view....

It resembled the head of a crocodile, only it was ten times larger and covered with scale like the armor plate of a destroyer. The jaws, wide open and slashing with enormous, needle-shaped teeth at the huge parasites, were large enough to have held our glass sphere. One eye appeared. It was at least three feet across and of a shimmering amethyst color.

One of the deadly saucers wrapped itself around the great head. The entire mass of attackers and attacked settled slowly to the bottom.

But before it completely succumbed the beaten monster gave one last, convulsive flick of its tail....

"Good God!" cried Stanley, shrinking away from the pump and staring upward.

I followed his gaze with my own eyes.

In the faint reflected glow of the searchlight I could see row on row of large cups flattened against the top of the ball. As I watched these flattened still more and the big sphere quivered perceptibly.

In its death struggle the mighty serpent had flicked one of the huge leeches against us. It now clung there with blind tenacity, covering nearly two-thirds of our shell with the underside of its body.

I reached for the control key to send us to the surface.

"Don't!" snapped the Professor. "The weight—"

He needed to say no more. My hand recoiled as though the key had been red hot.

The three-quarter-inch cable above us was now sustaining, in addition to its own huge weight, our massive glass ball and the appalling tonnage of this grim blanket of flesh that encircled us. Could it further hold against the strain of lifting that combined tonnage through the press of the water? Almost certainly it could not!

There was nothing we could do but hang there and discover at first hand exactly what happened to things that were clamped in those mighty, living vises!

The Professor turned on the interior bulb. The result was ghastly. It showed every detail of the belly of the thing that gripped us.

Crowded over its entire under surface were gristly, flattened suckers. Now and then a convulsive ripple ran through its surface tissue and great ridges of flesh stood out. With each squeeze the glass shell quivered ominously as though the extreme limit of its pressure resisting power were being reached—and passed.

"A nice fix," remarked the Professor, his calm, dry voice acting like a tonic in that moment of fear. "If we try to go up, the cable would probably break. If we try to outlast the patience of this thing we might run out of air, or actually be staved in."

He paused thoughtfully.

"I suggest, though, that we follow the latter course for awhile at least. It would be just too bad if that cable broke, gentlemen!"

Stanley shuddered, and looked at the dirty white belly that pressed against the glass walls on all sides.

"I vote we stay here for a time."

"And I," was my addition.

I relieved Stanley at the pump. He and the Professor sat down on the bench. Casting frequent glances at the constricted blanket of flesh that covered us, we prepared to wait as composedly as we might for the thing to give up its effort to smash our shell.

The hour that followed was longer than any full day I have ever lived through. Had I not confirmed the passage of time by looking at my watch, I would have sworn that at least twenty hours had passed.

Every half-minute I gazed at that weaving pattern of cup-shaped suckers only five feet away, trying to see if they were relaxing in their pressure. I attempted to persuade myself that they were. But I knew I was only imagining it. Actually they were pressed as flat as ever, and the sphere still quivered at regular intervals as the heavy body squeezed in on itself. There was no sign that its blind, mindless patience was becoming exhausted.

There was little conversation during that interminable hour.

Stanley grinned wryly once and commented on the creature's disappointment if it actually succeeded in getting at us.

"We'd be scattered all over the surrounding half mile by the pressure of the water," he said. "There'd be nothing left for our pet to feed on but five-foot chunks of broken glass. Not a very satisfying meal."

"We might try to reason with the thing—point out how foolish it is to waste its time on us," I suggested, trying to appear as nonchalant as he was.

The Professor said nothing. He was coolly writing in his notebook, describing minutely the appearance of our abysmal captor.

Finally I chanced to look down through a section of wall not covered by our stubborn enemy. I wiped the moisture from the glass before the searchlight so that I could see more clearly.

The bottom seemed to be heaving up and down. I blinked my eyes and looked again. It was not an illusion. With a regular dip and rise we were approaching to within a few feet of the rocky floor and moving back up again. Also we were floating faster than at anytime previous. The bottom was bare again; we had left the crowding, ominous mounds.

I waved to the Professor. He snapped his notebook shut and stared at the uneasy ocean bottom.

"I've been hoping I was wrong," he said simply. "I thought I felt a wavy motion fifteen minutes ago, and it seemed to me to increase steadily."

The three of us stared at each other.

"You mean ..." began Stanley with a shudder.

"I mean that the Rosa, one mile above us, is having difficulties. A storm. Judging from our movement it must be a hurricane: the length of cable would cushion us from any average wave, and we are rising and falling at least fifteen feet."

"My God!" groaned Stanley. "The Rosa is already heeled with the weight of us. She could never weather a hurricane!"

The plight of the crew above our heads was as clear to us as though we had been aboard with them.

Should they cut the cable, figuring that the lives of the three of us were certainly not to be set against the thirty on the yacht?

Should they disconnect the electric control and try to haul us up regardless?

Or should they try to ride out the storm in spite of being crippled by the drag of us?

"I think if I were up there I'd cut us adrift," said Stanley grimly. Both the Professor and myself nodded. "Though," he added hopefully, "my captain is a good gambler...."

The cable quivered like a live thing under the terrific strain. At each downward swoop, before the upswing began, there was a sickening sag.

"We no longer have a decision to make," said the Professor. "Press the key, Martin, and God grant we can rise with all this dead weight."

And at that instant the crew of the Rosa were also relieved of the necessity for making a decision.

At the bottom of one of those long, sickening falls there was a jerk—and we continued on down to the ocean floor!

The sphere rolled over, jumbling the equipment in a tangled mess with the three of us in the center, bruised and cut. The light snapped off as the battery connections were torn loose.

There we lay at the bottom of Penguin Deep, in an inert sphere that was dead and dark in the surrounding blackness—a coffin of glass to hold us through the centuries....

“Martin," I heard the Professor's voice after a time. "Stanley—can either of you move? I'm caught."

"I'm caught, too," came Stanley's gasping answer. "Something on my leg—feels like it's broken."

A heavy object was pressing across my body. With an effort I freed myself and fumbled in the pitch darkness for the other two.

"Lights first," commanded the Professor. "The pump, you know."

I did know! Frantically I scrambled in the dark till I located the batteries. They were right side up and still wired together.

The air grew rapidly foul with no one at the pump. Panting for breath I blundered at the task of connecting the light. After what seemed an eternity I accomplished it.

The light revealed Stanley with an air tank lying across his leg. The mouthpiece of his breathing tube had been forced back over his head, gashing his face in its journey. His face was white with pain.

The Professor was caught under the heavy bench. I freed him and together we attended to Stanley, finding that his leg wasn't broken but only badly bruised.

The mound-shaped monster, dislodged possibly by the fall, was nowhere to be seen.

I resumed work at the pump, the connections of which were so strongly contrived that they had withstood the shock of the upset.

For a moment we were content to rest while the air grew purer. Then we were forced squarely to face our fate.

The Professor summed up the facts in a few concise words.

"We're certainly doomed! Here at the bottom of Penguin Deep we're as out of reach of help as though we were stranded on the moon. We're as good as dead right now."

"If we have nothing left to hope for," whispered Stanley after a time, "we might as well close the air valves and get it over with at once. No use torturing ourselves...."

The Professor moistened his lips.

"It might be wise." He turned to me. "What's your opinion, Martin?"

But I—I confess I had not the stark courage of these two.

"No! No!" I cried out. "Let's keep on living as long as the air holds out. Something might happen—"

I avoided their eyes as I said it, utterly ashamed of my cowardly quibbling with death. What in the name of God could possibly happen to help us?

The Professor shrugged dully, and nodded.

"I feel with Stanley that we ought to get it over in one short stab. But we have no right to force you...." His voice trailed off.

We readjusted our mouthpieces. I turned automatically at the pump; and we silently awaited the last suffocating moment of our final doom.

As before, attracted by the light, a strange assortment of deep-sea life wriggled and darted about us, swimming lazily among the looped coils and twists of our cable which had settled down around us.

Among these were certain fish that resembled great porcupines. Spines a foot and a half long, like living knife blades, protected them from the attacks of other species.

They were the only things we saw that were not constantly writhing away from the jaws of some hostile monster—the only things that seemed able to swim about their own affairs without even deigning to watch for danger.

Fascinated, I watched the six-foot creatures. Here were we, reasoning humans, supposed lords of creation, slowly but surely perishing—while only a few feet away one of the lowest forms of life could exist in perfect safety and tranquility!

Then, as I watched them, I seemed to see a difference in some of them.

The majority of them had two fins just behind the gill slits, typical fish tails and blunt, sloping heads. But now and then I saw a spined monster that was queerly unlike its fellows.

Instead of two front fins, these unique ones had two vacant round holes. The head looked as though it had forgotten to grow; its place was taken by an eyeless, projecting, shield shaped cap. And there was no tail.

Glad to find something to distract my half crazed thoughts, I studied the nearest of these.

They moved slower than their tailed and finned brothers, I noticed. I wondered how they could move at all, lacking in any kind of motive power as they seemed to be.

Next instant the secret of their movement was made clear!

Out of the empty fin holes of the creature I was studying crept two long, powerful looking tentacles. But these were not true tentacles. There were no vacuum discs on them, and they moved as though supported by jointed bones—like arms.

The arms ended in flat paddles that resembled hands. These threshed the water in a sort of breast-stroke, propelling the body forward.

Shortly after the arms had appeared, the spiny head cap was cautiously extended a few inches forward from the main shell. Further it was extended as the head of a turtle might slowly appear from the protection of its bony case. And under it—

"Professor!" I screamed wildly. "My God! Look!"

Both the Professor and Stanley merely stared dully at me. I babbled of what I had seen.

"A man! A human looking thing, anyway! Arms and a head! A man inside a fish's spined hide—like armor!"

They looked pityingly at me. The Professor laid his hand on my shoulder.

"Now, now," he soothed, "don't go to pieces—"

"I tell you I saw it!" I shouted. Then, shrinking from the hysterical loudness of my own voice, I lowered my tone. "Something that looks human has occupied some of those prickly, six-foot shells. I saw arms—and a man's head! I swear it!"

"Nonsense! How could a human being stand the cold, the pressure—"

Here I happened to glance at the wall of the shell through which the searchlight shone.

"Look! See for yourself!"

Squarely in the rays of the light showed a head, projecting from one of the shells and capped with a wide flat helmet of horned bone.

There were eyes and nose and mouth placed on one side of that head—a face! There were even tabs of flesh or bony protuberances that resembled ears.

"Curious," muttered the Professor, staring. "It certainly looks human enough to talk. But it's only a fish, nevertheless. See—in the throat are gill slits."

"But the eyes! Look at them! They're not the eyes of a fish!"

And they were not. There was in them a light of reason, of intelligence. Those eyes were roaming brightly over us, observing the light, the equipment, seeming to note our amazement as we crowded to look at it.

The sphere rocked slightly. Behind the staring, manlike visitor there was a glimpse of enormous, crocodile jaws and huge, amethyst eyes. Instantly the head and arms receded, leaving an empty-seeming, lifeless shell. An impregnable fortress of spines, the thing drifted slowly away through the twisted loops of cable.

"It certainly looked like—" began Stanley shakily.

"The creature was just a fish," said the Professor shaking his head at the light in Stanley's eyes. "Some sort of giant parasite that inhabits the shells of other fish."

He opened the valve of the last air cylinder and seated himself resignedly on the bench.

"We have another half hour or so—"

All of us suddenly put out our hands to brace ourselves. The sphere had moved.

"Look at the cable!" called Stanley.

[ID: A black and white illustration of the glass sphere and its passengers, tilting violently to the side. End ID.]

We did so. It was moving, writhing away from us over the bottom as though abruptly given life of its own. Coil after coil disappeared into the further gloom.

At length the cable was straight. The ball moved again—was dragged a few feet along the rocky floor.

Something—possessed of incredibly vast power—had seized the end of the steel cable and was reeling us in as a fisherman reels in a trout!

Slowly, unsteadily, we slid along the ocean floor. Ahead of us appeared a jagged black wall—a cliff. There was a gloomy hole at its base. Toward this we were being dragged by whatever it was that had caught the end of the cable.

Helpless, we watched ourselves engulfed by the murky den. In the beam of the searchlight we saw that the submarine cavern extended on and on for an unguessable depth. The cable, taut with the strain, stretched ahead out of sight.

Time had been lost track of during that mysterious, ominous journey. It was recalled to us by the state of the air we were breathing.

The Professor removed his mouthpiece and cast the tube aside.

"You might as well stop pumping, Martin," he said quietly. "We're done. There's no more air in the flask."

We stared at each other. Then we shook hands, solemnly, tremulously, taking leave of each other before we departed on that longest of all journeys....

The air in that small space was rapidly exhausted. We lay on the floor, laboring for breath, and closed our eyes....

The Professor, the oldest of the three of us, succumbed first. I heard his breath whistle stertorously and, glancing at him, saw that he was in a coma. In a moment Stanley had joined him in blessed unconsciousness.

I could feel myself drifting off.... Hammers beat at my ears.... Daggers pierced my heaving lungs....

Hazily I could see scores of the bristly, manlike fish when I opened my eyes and glanced through the walls. It was not one monster then, but many that had brought us to their lair. Abruptly, as though a signal had been given, they all streamed back toward the mouth of the cavern....

My eyesight dimmed.... The hammers pulsed louder.... A veil descended over my senses and I knew no more....

A soft sustained roar came to my ears. Through my closed eyelids I could sense light. A dank, fishy smell came to my nostrils.

I groaned and moved feebly, finding that I was resting on something soft and pleasant.

Dazedly I opened my eyes and sat up. An exclamation burst from me as I suddenly remembered what had gone before, and realized that somehow, incredibly, I was still living.

Feeling like a man who has waked from a nightmarish sleep to find himself in his tomb, I gazed about.

I was in a long, lofty rock chamber, the uneven floor of which was covered with shallow pools of water. The further end was of smooth-grained stone that resembled cement. The near end was rough like the walls; but in it there was a small, symmetrical arch, the mouth of a passage leading away to some other point in the bowels of the earth.

The place was flooded with clear light that had a rosy tinge. From my position on the floor I could not see what made the light. It streamed from a crevice that extended clear around the cave parallel with the floor and about twelve feet above it. From this groove, along with the light, came the soft roaring hiss.

Beside me was the glass ball, the cover off and lying a few feet away from the opening in the top. There was no trace of Stanley or the Professor.

I rose from my couch, a thick, mattresslike affair of soft, pliant hide, and walked feebly toward the small arch in the near end of the cave.

Even as I approached it I heard footsteps, and voices resounded in some slurring, musical language. Half a dozen figures suddenly came into view.

They were men, as human as myself! Indeed, as I gazed at them, I felt inclined to think they were even more human!

They were magnificent specimens. The smallest could not have been less than six feet three, and all of them were muscular and finely proportioned. Their faces were arresting in their expression of calm strength and kindliness. They looked like gods, arrayed in soft, thick, beautifully tanned hides in this rosy tinted hole a mile below the ocean's top.

They stared at me for an instant, then advanced toward me. My face must have reflected alarm, for the tallest of them held up his hand, palm outward, in a peaceful gesture.

The leader spoke to me. Of course the slurred, melodious syllable meant nothing to me. He smiled and indicated that I was to follow him. I did so, hardly aware of what I was doing, my brain reeling in an attempt to grasp the situation.

How marvelous, how utterly incredible, to find human beings here! How many were there? Where had they come from? How had they salvaged us from Penguin Deep? I gave it up, striding along with my towering guards like a man walking in his sleep.

At length the low passageway ended, and I exclaimed aloud at what I saw.

I was looking down a long avenue of buildings, all three stories in height. There were large door and window apertures, but no doors nor window panes. In front of each house was a small square with—wonder of wonders!—a lawn of whitish yellow vegetation that resembled grass. In some of the lawns were set artistic fountains of carved rock.

I might have been looking down any prosperous earthly subdivision, save for the fact that the roofs of the houses were the earth itself, which the building walls, in addition to functioning as partitions, served to support. Also earthly subdivisions aren't usually illuminated with rosy light that comes softly roaring from jets set in the walls.

We were walking toward a more brightly lighted area that showed ahead of us. On the way we passed intersections where other, similar streets branched geometrically away to right and left. These were smaller than the one we were on, indicating that ours was Main Street in this bizarre submarine city.

Faces appeared at door and window openings to peer at me as we passed. And even in that jumbled moment I had time to realize that these folk could restrain curiosity better than we can atop the earth. There was no hub-bub, no running out to tag after the queerly dressed foreigner and shout humorous remarks at him.

We approached the bright spot I had noticed from afar. It was an open square, about a city block in area, in the center of which was a royal looking building covered with blazing fragments of crystal and so brilliantly resplendent with light that it seemed to glow at the heart of a pink fire.

I was led toward this and in through a wide doorway. As courteously as though I were a visiting king, I was conducted up a great staircase, down a corridor set with more of the sparkling crystals and into a huge, low room. There my escort bowed and left me.

Still feeling that I could not possibly be awake and seeing actual things, I glanced around.

In a corner was another of the mattresslike couches made of the thick, soft hide that seemed to be the principal fabric of the place. A few feet away was a table set with dishes of food in barbaric profusion. None of the viands looked familiar but all appealed to the appetite. The floor was strewn with soft skins, and comfortable, carved benches were scattered about.

I walked to the window and looked out. Underneath was a plot of the cream colored grass through which ran a tiny stream. This widened at intervals into clear pools beside which were set stone benches. A hundred yards away was the edge of the square, where the regular, three storied houses began.

While I was staring at this unearthly vista, still unable to think with any coherence. I heard my name called. I turned to face Stanley and the Professor.

Both were pale in the rose light, and Stanley limped with the pain of his bruised leg: but both had recovered from their partial suffocation as completely as had I.

"We thought perhaps you'd decided to swim back up to the Rosa and leave us to our fates," said Stanley after we had stopped pumping each other's arms and had seated ourselves.

"And I thought—well, I didn't think much of anything," I replied. "I was too busy straining my eyesight over the wonders of this city. Did you ever see anything like it?"

"We haven't seen it at all, save for a view from the windows," said Stanley. "All we know of the place is that a while ago we woke up in a room like this, only much smaller and less lavish. I wonder why you rate this distinction?"

I described the streets as I had seen them. (It is impossible for me to think of them as anything but streets; it would seem as though the rock roof over all would give the appearance of a series of tunnels; but I had always the impression of airiness and openness.)

"Light and heat are furnished by natural gas," said the Professor when I remarked on the perfection of these two necessities. "That's what makes the low roaring noise—the thousands of burning jets. But the presence of gas here isn't as unusual as the presence of air. Where does that come from? Through wandering underground mazes, from some cave mouth in the Fiji Islands to the north? That would indicate that all the earth around here is honeycombed like a gigantic section of sponge. I wonder—"

"Have you any idea how we were rescued?" I interrupted, a little impatient of his abstract scientific ponderings.

"We have," said Stanley. "A woman told us. We woke up to find her nursing us—gorgeous looking thing—finest woman I've ever seen, and I've seen a good many—"

"She didn't exactly 'tell' us," remarked the Professor with his thin smile. Women were only interesting to him as biological studies. "She drew a diagram that explained it.

"That tunnel, Martin, was like the outer diving chamber of a submarine. We were hauled in on a big windlass—driven by gas turbines, I think. Once we were inside, a twenty-yard, counterbalanced wall of rock was lowered across the entrance. Then the water was drained out through a well, and into a subterranean body of water that extends under the entire city. And here we are."

We fell silent. Here we were. But what was going to happen to us among these friendly-seeming people; and how—if ever—we were going to get back to the earth's surface, were questions we could not even try to answer.

We ate of the appetizing food laid out on the long table. Shortly afterward we heard steps in the corridor outside the room.

A woman entered. She was ravishingly beautiful, tall, slender but symmetrically rounded. A soft leather robe slanted upward across her breast to a single shoulder fastening and ended just above her knees in a skirt arrangement. Around her head was a regal circlet of silvery gray metal with a flashing bit of crystal set in the center above her broad, low forehead.

She smiled at Stanley who looked dazzled and smiled eagerly back.

She pointed toward the door, signifying that we were to go with her. We did so; and were led down the great staircase and to a huge room that took up half the ground floor of the building. And here we met the nobility of the little kingdom—the upper class that governed the immaculate little city.

They were standing along the walls, leaving a lane down the center of the room—tall, finely modelled men and women dressed in the single garments of soft leather. There were people there with gray hair and wisdom wrinkled faces; but all were alike in being erect of body, firm of bearing and in splendid health.

They stopped talking as we entered the big room. Our gaze strayed ahead down the lane toward the further wall.

Here was a raised dais. On it was a gleaming crystal encrusted throne. And occupying it was the most queenly, exquisitely beautiful woman I had ever dreamed about.

Woman? She was just a girl in years in spite of her grave and royal air. Her eyes were deep violet. Her hair was black as ebony and gleaming with sudden glints of light. Her skin—

But she cannot be described. Only a great painter could give a hint of her glory. Too, I might truthfully be described as prejudiced about her perfections.

The Queen, for patently she was that, bowed graciously at us. It seemed to me—though I told myself that I was an imaginative fool—that her eyes rested longest on me, and had in them an expression not granted to the Professor or Stanley.

She spoke to us a melodious sentence or two, and waved her beautiful hand in which was a short ivory wand, evidently a scepter.

"She's probably giving us the keys to the city," whispered Stanley. He edged nearer the fair one who had conducted us. "I sincerely hope there's room here for us."

The open lane closed in on us. Men and women crowded about us speaking to us and smiling ruefully as they realized we could not understand. I noticed that, for some curious reason, they seemed fascinated by the color of my hair. Red-haired men were evidently scarce there.

At length the beauty who had so captured Stanley's fancy, and who seemed to have been appointed a sort of mentor for us, suggested in sign language that we might want to return to our quarters.

It was a welcome suggestion. We were done in by the experiences and emotions that had gripped us since leaving the Rosa such an incredibly few hours ago.

We went back to the second floor. I to my luxurious big apartment and Stanley and the Professor to their smaller but equally comfortable rooms.

A pleasant period slid by, every waking hour of which was filled with new experiences.

The city's name, we found, was Zyobor. It was a perfect little community. There were artisans and thinkers, artists and laborers—all alike in being physically perfect beyond belief and cultured as no race on top the ground is cultured.

As we began to learn the language, more exact details of the practical methods of existence were revealed to us.

The surrounding earth furnished them with building materials, metals and unlimited gas. The sea, so near us and yet so securely walled away, gave them food. Which warrants a more detailed description.

We were informed that the manlike, two-armed fishes were the servants of these people—domesticated animals, in a sense, only of an extremely high order of intelligence. They were directed by mental telepathy (Every man, woman and child in Zyobor was skilled at thought projection. They conversed constantly, from end to end of the city, by mental telepathy.)

Protected in their spined shells, which they captured from the schools of porcupine fish that swarmed in Penguin Deep, they gathered sea vegetation from the higher levels and trapped sea creatures. These were brought into the subterranean chamber where our glass ball now reposed. Then the chamber was emptied of water and the food was borne to the city.

The vast army of mound-fish provided the bulk of the population's food, and also furnished the thick, pliant skin they used for clothing and drapes. They were cultivated as we cultivate cattle—an ominous herd, to be handled with care and approached by the fish-servants with due caution.

Thus, with all reasonable wants satisfied, with talent and brains to design beautiful surroundings, lighted and warmed by inexhaustible natural gas, these fortunate beings lived their sheltered lives in their rosy underground world.

At least I thought their lives were sheltered then. It was only later, when talking to the beautiful young Queen, that I learned of the dread menace that had begun to draw near to them just a short time before we were rescued....

My first impression, when we had entered the throne room that first day, that the Queen had regarded me more intently than she had Stanley or the Professor, had been right. It pleased her to treat me as an equal, and to give me more of her time than was granted to any other person in the city.

Every day, for a growing number of hours, we were together in her apartment. She personally instructed me in the language, and such was my desire to talk to this radiant being that I made an apt pupil.

Soon I had progressed enough to converse with her—in a stilted, incorrect way—on all but the most abstract of subjects. It was a fine language. I liked it, as I liked everything else about Zyobor. The upper earth seemed far away and well forgotten.

Her name, I found, was Aga. A beautiful name....

"How did your kingdom begin?" I asked her one day, while we were sitting beside one of the small pools in the gardens. We were close together. Now and then my shoulder touched hers, and she did not draw away.

"I know not," she replied. "It is older than any of our ancient records can say. I am the three hundred and eleventh of the present reigning line."

"And we are the first to enter thy realm from the upper world?"

"Thou art the first."

"There is no other entrance but the sea-way into which we were drawn?"

"There is no other entrance."

I was silent, trying to realize the finality of my residence here.

At the moment I didn't care much if I never got home!

"In the monarchies we know above," I said finally, avoiding her violet eyes, "it is not the custom for the queen—or king—to reign alone. A consort is chosen. Is it not so here? Has thou not, among thy nobles, some one thou hast destined—"

I stopped, feeling that if she dismissed me in anger and never spoke to me again the punishment would be just.

But she wasn't angry. A lovely tide of color stained her cheeks. Her lips parted, and she turned her head. For a long time she said nothing. Then she faced me, with a light in her eyes that sent the blood racing in my veins.

"I have not yet chosen," she murmured. "Mayhap soon I shall tell thee why."

She rose and hurried back toward the palace. But at the door she paused—and smiled at me in a way that had nothing whatever to do with queenship.

As the time sped by the three of us settled into the routine of the city as though we had never known of anything else.

The Professor spent most of his time down by the sea chamber where the food was dragged in by the intelligent servant-fish.

He was in a zoologist's paradise. Not a creature that came in there had ever been catalogued before. He wrote reams of notes on the parchment paper used by the citizens in recording their transactions. Particularly was he interested in the vast, lowly mound-fish.

One time, when I happened to be with him, the receding waters of the chamber disclosed the body of one of the odd herdsmen of these deep sea flocks. Then the Professor's elation knew no bounds. We hurried forward to look at it.

"It is a typical fish," puzzled the Professor when we had cut the body out of its usurped armor. "Cold blooded, adapted to the chill and pressure of the deeps. There are the gills I observed before ... yet it looks very human."

It surely did. There were the jointed arms, and the rudimentary hands. Its forehead was domed; and the brain, when dissected, proved much larger than the brain of a true fish. Also its bones were not those of a mammal, but the cartilagenous bones of a fish. It was not quite six feet long; just fitted the horny shell.

"But its intelligence!" fretted the Professor, glorying in his inability to classify this marvelous specimen. "No fish could ever attain such mental development. Evolution working backward from human to reptile and then fish—or a new freak of evolution whereby a fish on a short cut toward becoming human?" He sighed and gave it up. But more reams of notes were written.

"Why do you take them?" I asked. "No one but yourself will ever see them."

He looked at me with professorial absent-mindedness.

"I take them for the fun of it, principally. But perhaps, sometime, we may figure out a way of getting them up. My God! Wouldn't my learned brother scientists be set in an uproar!"

He bent to his observations and dissections again, cursing now and then at the distortion suffered by the specimens when they were released from the deep sea pressure and swelled and burst in the atmospheric pressure in the cave.

Stanley was engrossed in a different way. Since the moment he laid eyes on her, he had belonged to the stately woman who had first nursed him back to consciousness. Mayis was her name.

From shepherding the three of us around Zyobor and explaining its marvels to us, she had taken to exclusive tutorship of Stanley. And Stanley fairly ate it up.

"You, the notorious woman hater," I taunted him one time, "the wary bachelor—to fall at last. And for a woman of another world—almost of another planet! I'm amazed!"

"I don't know why you should be amazed," said he stiffly.

"You've been telling me ever since I was a kid that women were all useless, all alike—"

"I find I was mistaken," he interrupted. "They aren't all alike. There's only one Mayis. She is—different."

"What do you talk about all the time? You're with her constantly."

"I'm not with her any more than you're with the Queen," he shot back at me. "What do you find to talk about?"

That shut me up. He went to look for Mayis; and I wandered to the royal apartments in search of Aga.

In the first days of our friendship I had several times surprised in Aga's eyes a curious expression, one that seemed compounded of despair, horror and resignation.

I had seen that same expression in the eyes of the nobles of late, and in the faces of all the people I encountered in the streets—who, I mustn't forget to add here, never failed to treat me with a deference that was as intoxicating as it was inexplicable.

It was as though some terrible fate hovered over the populace, some dreadful doom about which nothing could be done. No one put into words any fears that might confirm that impression; but continually I got the idea that everybody there went about in a state of attempting to live normally and happily while life was still left—before some awful, wholesale death descended on them.

At last, from Aga, I learned the fateful reason.

But first—a confession that was hastened by the knowledge of the fate of the city—I learned from her something that changed all of life for me.

We were surrounded by the luxury of her private apartment. We sat on a low divan, side by side. I wanted, more than anything I had ever wanted before, to put my arms around her. But I dared not. One does not make love easily to a queen, the three hundred and eleventh of a proud line.

And then, as maids have done often in all countries, and, perhaps, on all planets, she took the initiative herself.

"We have a curious custom in Zyobor of which I have not yet told thee," she murmured. "It concerns the kings of Zyobor. The color of their hair."

She glanced up at my own carrot-top, and then averted her gaze.

"For all of our history our kings have had—red hair. On the few occasions when the line has been reduced to a lone queen, as in my case, the red-haired men of the kingdom have striven together in public combat to determine which was most powerful and brave. The winner became the Queen's consort."

"And in this case?" I asked, my heart beginning to pound madly.

"In my case, my lord, there is to be no—no striving. When I was a child our only two red-haired males died, one by accident, one by sickness. Now there are none others but infants, none of eligible age. But—by a miracle—thou—"

She stopped; then gazed up at me from under long, gold flecked lashes.

"I was afraid ... I was doomed to die ... alone...."

It was after I had replied impetuously to this, that she told me of the terror that was about to engulf all life in the beautiful undersea city.

"Thou hast wonder, perhaps, why I should be forward enough to tell thee this instead of waiting for thine own confession first," she faltered. "Know, then—the reason is the shortness of the time we are fated to spend together. We shall belong each to the other only a little while. Then shall we belong to death! And I—when I knew the time was to be so brief—"

And I listened with growing horror to her account of the enemy that was advancing toward us with every passing moment.

About twenty miles away, in the lowest depression of Penguin Deep, lived a race of monsters which the people of Aga's city called Quabos.

The Quabos were grim beings that were more intelligent than Aga's fish-servants—even, she thought, more intelligent than humans themselves. They had existed in their dark hole, as far as the Zyobites knew, from the beginning of time.

Through the countless centuries they had constructed for themselves a vast series of dens in the rock. There they had hidden away from the deep-sea dangers. They, too, preyed on the mound-fish; but as there was plenty of food for all, the Zyobites had never paid much attention to them.

But—just before we had appeared, there had come about a subterranean quake that changed the entire complexion of matters in Penguin Deep.

The earthquake wiped out the elaborately burrowed sea tunnels of the Quabos, killing half of them at a blow and driving the rest out into the unfriendly openness of the deep.

Now this was fatal to them. They were not used to physical self defense. During the thousands of years of residence in their sheltered burrows they had become utterly unable to exist when exposed to the primeval dangers of the sea. It was as though the civilization-softened citizens of New York should suddenly be set down in a howling wilderness with nothing but their bare hands with which to contrive all the necessities of a living.

Such was the situation at the time Stanley, the Professor and myself arrived in Zyobor.

The Quabos must find an immediate haven or perish. On the ocean bottom they were threatened by the mound-fish. In the higher levels they were in danger from almost everything that swam: few things were so defenceless as themselves after their long inertia.

Their answer was Zyobor. There, in perfect security, only to be reached by the diving chamber that could be sealed at will by the twenty-yard, counterbalanced lock, the Quabos would be even more protected than in their former runways.

So—they were working day and night to invade Aga's city!

"But Aga," I interrupted impulsively at this point. "If these monsters are fishes, how could they live here in air—"

I stopped as my objection answered itself before she could reply.

They would not have to live in air to inhabit Zyobor. They would inundate the city—flood that peaceful, beautiful place with the awful pressure of the lowest depths!

That thought, in turn, suggested to me that every building in Zyobor would be swept flat if subjected suddenly to the rush of the sea. The great low cavern, without the support of the myriad walls, would probably collapse—trapping the invading Quabos and leaving the rest without a home once more.

But Aga answered this before I could voice it.

The Quabos had foreseen that point. They were tunneling slowly but surely toward the city from a point about half a mile from the diving chamber. And as they advanced, they blocked up the passageway behind them at intervals, drilled down to the great underground sea that lay beneath all this section, and drained a little of the water away.

In this manner they lightened, bit by bit, the enormous weight of the ocean depths. When the city was finally reached, not only would it be ensured against sudden destruction but the Quabos themselves would have become accustomed to the difference in pressure. Had they gone immediately from the accustomed press of Penguin Deep into the atmosphere of Zyobor, they would have burst into bits. As it was they would be able to flood the city slowly, without injury to themselves.

"Now thou knowest our fate," concluded Aga with a shudder. "Zyobor will be a part of the great waters. We ourselves shall be food for these monsters...." She faltered and stopped.

"But this cannot be!" I exclaimed, clenching my fists impotently. "There must be something we can do; some way—"

"There is nothing to be done. Our wisest men have set themselves sleeplessly to the task of defence. There is no defence possible."

"We can't simply sit here and wait! Your people are wonderful, but this is no time for resignation. Send for my two friends, Aga. We will have a council of war, we four, and see if we can find a way!"

She shrugged despairfully, started to speak, then sent in quest of Stanley and the Professor.

They as well as myself, had had no idea of the menace that crept nearer us with each passing hour. They were dumbfounded, horrified to learn of the peril. We sat awhile in silence, realizing our situation to the full.

Then the Professor spoke:

"If only we could see what these things look like! It might help in planning to defeat them."

"That can be done with ease," said Aga. "Come."

We went with her to the gardens and approached the nearest pool.

"My fish-men are watching the Quabos constantly. They report to me by telepathy whenever I send my thoughts their way. I will let you see, on the pool, the things they are now seeing."

She stared intently at the sheet of water. And gradually, as we watched, a picture appeared—a picture that will never fade from my memory in any smallest detail.

The Quabos had huddled for protection into a large cave at the foot of the cliff outside Zyobor. There were a great many Quabos, and the cave was relatively confining. Now we saw, through the eyes of the spine protected outpost of the Queen, these monstrous refugees crowded together like sheep.

The watery cavern was a creeping mass of viscous tentacles, enormous staring eyes and globular heads. The cave was paved three deep with the horrible things, and they were attached to the it walls and roof in solid blocks.

"My God!" whispered Stanley. "There are thousands of them!"

There were. And that they were in distress was evident.

The layers on the floor were weaving and shifting constantly as the bottom creatures struggled feebly to rise to the top of the mass and be relieved of the weight of their brothers. Also they were famished....

One of the blood red, gigantic worms floated near the cave entrance. Like lightning the nearest Quabos darted after it. In a moment the prey was torn to bits by the ravenous monsters.

The other side of the story was immediately portrayed to us.

With the emerging of the reckless Quabos, a sea-serpent appeared from above and snapped up three of their number. Evidently the huge serpent considered them succulent tidbits, and made it its business to wait near the cave and avail itself of just such rash chance-taking as this.

[ID: A black and white illustration showing barbed fish-guards and Quabo swimming. End ID.]

While we watched the nightmare scene, a Quabo disengaged itself from the parent mass and floated upward into the clear, giving us a chance to see more distinctly what the creatures looked like.

There was a black, shiny head as large as a sugar barrel. In this were eyes the size of dinner plates, and gleaming with a cold, hellish intelligence. Four long, twining tentacles were attached directly to the head. Dotted along these were rudimentary sucker discs, that had evidently become atrophied by the soft living of thousands of the creature's ancestors.

As though emerging from the pool into which we were gazing, the monster darted viciously at us. At once it disappeared: the fish-servant through whose eyes we were seeing all this had evidently retreated from the approach; although, protected by its spines, it could not have been in actual danger.

"How dost thou know of the tunneling?" I asked Aga. "Thy fish-men cannot be present there, in the rear of the tunnel, to report."

"My artisans have knowledge of each forward move," she answered. "I will show thee."

We walked back to the palace and descended to a smooth-lined vault. There we saw a great stone shaft sunk down into the rock of the floor. On this was a delicate vibration recording instrument of some sort, with a needle that quivered rhythmically over several degrees of an arc.

"This tells of each move of the Quabos," said Aga. "It also tells us where they will break through the city wall. How near to us are they, Kilor?" she asked an attendant who was studying the dial, and who had bowed respectfully to Aga and myself as we approached.

"They will break into the city in four rixas at the present rate of advance, Your Majesty."

Four rixas! In a little over sixteen days, as we count time, the city of Zyobor would be delivered into the hands—or, rather, tentacles—of the slimy, starving demons that huddled in the cavern outside!

Somberly we followed Aga back to her apartment.

As thou seest," she murmured, "there is nothing to be done. We can only resign ourselves to the fate that nears us, and enjoy as much as may be the few remaining rixas...."

She glanced at me.

The Professor's dry, cool voice cut across our wordless, engrossed communion.

"I don't think we'll give up quite as easily as all that. We can at least try to outwit our enemies. If it does nothing else for us, the effort can serve to distract our minds."

He drew from his pocket a sheet of parchment and the stub of his last remaining pencil. His fingers busied themselves apparently idly in the tracing of geometric lines.

"Looking ahead to the exact details of our destruction," he mused coolly, "we see that our most direct and ominous enemy is the sea itself. When the city is flooded, we drown—and later the Quabos can enter at will."

He drew a few more lines, and marked a cross at a point in the outer rim of the diagram.

"What will happen? The Quabos force through the last shell of the city wall. The water from their tunnel floods into Zyobor. But—and mark me well—only the water from the tunnel! The outer end, remember, is blocked off in their pressure-reducing process. The vast body of the sea itself cannot immediately be let in here because the Quabos must take as long a time to re-accustom themselves to its pressure as they did to work out of it."

He spread the parchment sheet before us.

"Is this a roughly accurate plan of the city?" he asked Aga.

She inclined her lovely head.

"And this," indicating the cross, "is the spot where the Quabos will break in?"

Again she nodded, shuddering.

"Then tell me what you think of this," said the Professor.

And he proceeded to sketch out a plan so simple, and yet so seemingly efficient, that the rest of us gazed at him with wordless admiration.

"My friend, my friend," whispered Aga at last, "thou hast saved us. Thou art the guardian hero of Zyobor—"

"Not too fast, Your Highness," interrupted the Professor with his frosty smile. "I shall be much surprised if this little scheme actually saves the city. We may find the rock so thick there that our task is hopeless—though I imagine the Quabos picked a thin section for help in their own plans."

A vague look came into his eyes.

"I must certainly get my hands on one of these monsters ... superhumanly intelligent fish ... marvelous—akin to the octopus, perhaps?"

He wandered off, changed from the resourceful schemer to the dreamy man of scientific abstractions.

The Queen gazed after him with wonder in her eyes.

"A great man," she murmured, "but is he—a little mad?"

"No, only a little absent-minded," I replied. Then, "Come on, Stanley. We'll round up every able bodied citizen in Zyobor and get to work. I suppose they have some kind of rock drilling machinery here?"

They had. And they strangely resembled our own rock drills: revolving metal shafts, driven by gas turbines, tipped with fragments of the same crystal that glittered so profusely in the palace walls. Another proof that practically every basic, badly needed tool had been invented again and again, in all lands and times, as the necessity for it arose.

With hundreds of the powerful men of Zyobor working as closely together as they could without cramping each others movements, and with the whole city resounding to the roar of the machinery, we labored at the defence that might possibly check the advance of the hideous Quabos.

And with every breath we drew, waking or sleeping, we realized that the cold blooded, inhuman invaders had crept a fraction of an inch closer in their tunneling.

The Quabos against the Zyobites! Fish against man! Two diametrically opposed species of life in a struggle to the death! Which of us would survive?

The hour of the struggle approached. Every soul in Zyobor moved in a daze, with strained face and fear haunted eyes. Their proficiency in mental telepathy was a curse to them now: every one carried constantly, transmitted from the brains of the servant-fish outposts, a thought picture of that outer cavern in the murky depths of which writhed the thousands of crowding Quabos. Each mind in Zyobor was in continual torment.

Spared that trouble, at least, Stanley and the Professor and I walked down to the fortification we had so hastily contrived. It was finished. And none too soon: the vibration indicator in the palace vault told us that only two feet of rock separated us from the burrowing monsters!

The Professor's scheme had been to cut a long slot down through the rock floor of the city to the roof of the vast, mysterious body of water below.

This slot was placed directly in front of the spot in the city wall where the Quabos were about to emerge. As they forced through the last shell of rock, the deluge of water, instead of drowning the city, was supposed to drain down the oblong vent. Any Quabos that were too near the tunnel entrance would be swept down too.

In silence we approached the edge of the great trough and stared down.

There was a stratum of black granite, fortunately only about thirty feet thick at this point, and then—the depths! A low roar reached our ears from far, far beneath us. A steady blast of ice cold air fanned up against us.

The Professor threw down a large fragment of rock. Seconds elapsed and we heard no splash. The unseen surface was too far below for the noise of the rock's fall to carry on up to us.

"The mystery of this ball of earth on which we live!" murmured the Professor. "Here is this enormous underground body of water. We are far below sea level. Where, then, is it flowing? What does it empty into? Can it be that our planet is honeycombed with such hollows as this we are in? And is each inhabited by some form of life?"

He sighed and shook his head.

"The thought is too big! For, if that were true, wouldn't the seas be drained from the surface of the earth should an accidental passage be formed from the ocean bed down to such a giant river as this beneath us? How little we know!"

The wild clamor of an alarm bell interrupted his musing. From all the city houses poured masses of people, to form in solid lines behind the large well.

In addition to men, there were many women in those lines, tall and strong, ready to stand by their mates as long as life was left them. There were children, too, scarcely in their teens, prepared to fight for the existence of the race. Every able-bodied Zyobite was mustered against the cold-blooded Things that pressed so near.

The arms of these desperate fighters were pitiful compared to our own war weapons. With no need in the city for fighting engines, none had ever been developed. Now the best that could be had was a sort of ax, used for dissecting the mound-fish, and various knives fashioned for peaceful purposes.

Again the bell clamored forth a warning, this time twice repeated. Every hand grasped its weapon. Every eye went hopefully to the hole in the floor on which our immediate fate depended, then valiantly to the section of wall above it.

This quivered perceptibly. A heavy, pointed instrument broke through; was withdrawn; and a hissing stream of water spurted out.

The Quabos were about to break in upon us!

With a crash that made the solid rock tremble, a section of the wall collapsed. It was the top half of the end of the Quabos' tunnel. They had so wrought that the lower half stayed in place—a thing we did not have time to recognize as significant until later.

A solid wall of water, in which writhed dozens of tentacled monsters, was upon us, and we had time for nothing but action.

The ditch had of necessity been placed directly under the Quabos' entrance. The first rush of water carried half over it. With it were borne scores of the cold-blooded invaders.

In an instant we were standing knee deep in a torrent that tore at our footing, while we hacked frantically with knives and axes at the slimy tentacles that reached up to drag us under.

A soft, horrible mass swept against my legs. I was overthrown. A tentacle slithered around my neck and constricted viciously like a length of rotten cable. I sawed at it with the long, notched blade I carried. Choking for air, I felt the pressure relax and scrambled to my knees.

Two more tentacles went around me, one winding about my legs and the other crushing my waist. Two huge eyes glared fiendishly at me.

I plunged the knife again and again into the barrel-shaped head. It did not bleed: a few drops of thin, yellowish liquid oozed from the wounds but aside from this my slashing seemed to make no impression.

In a frenzy I defended myself against the nightmare head that was winding surely toward me. Meanwhile I devoted every energy to keeping on my feet. If I ever went under again—

It seemed to me that the creature was weakening. With redoubled fury I hacked at the spidery shape. And gradually, when it seemed as though I could not withstand its weight and crushing tentacles another second, it slipped away and floated off on the shallow, roaring rapids.

For a moment I stood there, catching my breath and regaining my strength. Shifting, terrible scenes flashed before my eyes.

A tall Zyobite and an almost equally stalwart woman were both caught by one gigantic Quabo which had a tentacle around the throat of each. The man and woman were chopping at the viscous, gruesome head. One of the Thing's eyes was gashed across, giving it a fearsome, blind appearance. It heaved convulsively, and the three struggling figures toppled into the water and were swirled away.

The Professor was almost buried by a Quabo that had all four of its tentacles wound about him. As methodically as though he were in a laboratory dissecting room, he was cutting the slippery lengths away, one by one, till the fourth parted and left him free.

A giant Zyobite was struggling with two of the monsters. He had an ax in each hand, and was whirling them with such strength and rapidity that they formed flashing circles of light over his head. But he was torn down at last and borne off by the almost undiminished flood that gushed from the tunnel.

And now, without warning, a heavy soft body flung against my back, and the accident most to be dreaded in that mêlée occurred.

I was knocked off my feet! My head was pressed under the water. On my chest was a mass that was yielding but immovable, soft but terribly strong. Animated, firm jelly! I had no chance to use my knife. My arms were held powerless against my sides.

Water filled my nose and mouth. I strangled for breath, heaving at the implacable weight that pinned me helpless. Bright spots swirled before my eyes. There was a roaring in my ears. My lungs felt as though filled with molten lead. I was drowning....

Vaguely I felt the pressure loosen at last. An arm—with good, solid flesh and bone in it—slipped under my shoulders and dragged me up into the air.

"Don't you know—can't drown a fish—holding it under water?" panted a voice.

I opened my eyes and saw Stanley, his face pale with the thrill of battle, his chin jutting forward in a berserk line, his eyes snapping with eager, wary fires.

I grinned up at him and he slapped me on the back—almost completing the choking process started by the salt water I'd inhaled.

"That's better. Now—at it again!"

I don't remember the rest of the tumult. The air seemed filled with loathsome tentacles and bright metal blades. It was a confused eternity until the decreased volume of water in the tunnel gave us a respite....

As the tunnel slowly emptied the pressure dropped, and the incoming flood poured squarely into the trough instead of half over it. From that moment there was very little more for us to do.

Our little army—with about a fourth of its number gone—had only to guard the ditch and see that none of the Quabos caught the edges as they hurtled out of their passage.

For perhaps ten minutes longer the water poured from the break in the wall, with now and then a doomed Quabo that goggled horribly at us as it was dashed down the hole in the floor to whatever awesome depths were beneath.

Then the flow ceased. The last oleaginous corpse was pushed over the edge. And the city, save for an ankle-deep sheet of water that was rapidly draining out the vents in the streets, presented its former appearance.

The Zyobites leaned wearily against convenient walls and began telling themselves how fortunate they were to have been spared what seemed certain destruction.

The Professor didn't share in the general feeling of triumph.

"Don't be so childishly optimistic!" he snapped as I began to congratulate him on the victory his ditch had given us. "Our troubles aren't over yet!"

"But we've proved that we can stand up to them in a hand-to-tentacle fight—"

His thin, frosty smile appeared.

"One of those devils, normally, is stronger than any three men. The only reason all of us weren't destroyed at once is that they were slowly suffocating as they fought. The foot and a half of water we were in wasn't enough to let their gills function properly. Now if they were able to stand right up to us and not be handicapped by lack of water to breathe ... I wonder.... Is that part of their plan? Is there any way they could manage ...?"

"But, Professor," I argued, "it's all over, isn't it? The tunnel is emptied, and all the Quabos are—"

"The tunnel isn't emptied. It's only half emptied! I'll show you."

He called Stanley; and the three of us went to the break.

"See," the Professor pointed out to us as we approached the jagged hole, "the Quabos only drilled through the top half of their tunnel ending. That means that the tunnel still has about four feet of water in it—enough to accommodate a great many of the monsters. There may be four or five hundred of them left in there; possibly more. We can expect renewed hostilities at any time!"

"But won't it be just a repetition of the first battle?" remonstrated Stanley. "In the end they'll be killed or will drown for lack of water as these first ones did."

The Professor shook his head.

"They're too clever to do that twice. The very fact that they kept half their number in reserve shows that they have some new trick to try. Otherwise they'd all have come at once in one supreme effort."

He paced back and forth.

"They're ingenious, intelligent. They're fighting for their very existence. They must have figured out some way of breathing in air, some way of attacking us on a more even basis in case that first rush went wrong. What can it be?"

"I think you're borrowing trouble before it is necessary—" I began, smiling at his elaborate, scientific pessimism. But I was interrupted by a startled shout from Stanley.

"Professor Martin," he cried, pointing to the tunnel mouth. "Look!"

Like twin snakes crawling up to sun themselves, two tentacles had appeared over the rock rim. They hooked over the edge; and leisurely, with grim surety of invulnerability, the barrel-like head of a Quabo balanced itself on the ledge and glared at us.

For a moment we stared, paralyzed, at the Thing. And, during that moment it squatted there, as undistressed as though the air were its natural element, its gills flapping slowly up and down supplying it with oxygen.

The thing that held us rooted to the spot with fearful amazement was the fantastic device that permitted it to be almost as much at home in air as in water.

Over the great, globular head was set an oval glass shell. This was filled with water. A flexible metal tube hung down from the rear. Evidently it carried a constant stream of fresh water. As we gazed we saw intermittent trickles emerging from the bottom of the crystalline case.

Point for point the creature's equipment was the same as diving equipment used by men, only it was exactly opposite in function. A helmet that enabled a fish to breathe in air, instead of a helmet to allow a man to breathe in water!

Stanley was the first of us to recover from the shock of this spectacle. He faced about and raised his voice in shouts of warning to the resting Zyobites. For other glass encased monsters had appeared beside the first, now.

One by one, in single file like a line of enormous marching insects, they crawled down the wall and humped along on their tentacles—around the ditch and toward us!

The deadly infallibility of that second attack!

The Quabos advanced on us like armored tanks bearing down on defenceless savages. Their glass helmets, in addition to containing water for their breathing, protected them from our knives and axes. We were utterly helpless against them.

They marched in ranks about twenty yards apart, each rank helping the one in front to carry the cumbersome water-hoses which trailed back to the central water supply in the tunnel.

Their movements were slow, weighted down as they were by the great glass helmets, but they were appallingly sure.

We could not even retard their advance, let alone stop it. Here were no suffocating, faltering creatures. Here were beings possessed of their full vigor, each one equal to three of us even as the Professor had conjectured. Their only weak points were their tentacles which trailed outside the glass cases. But these they kept coiled close, so that to reach them and hack at them we had to step within range of their terrific clutches.

The Zyobites fought with the valor of despair added to their inherent noble bravery. Man after man closed with the monstrous, armored Things—only to be seized and crushed by the weaving tentacles.

Occasionally a terrific blow with an ax would crack one of the glass helmets. Then the denuded Quabo would flounder convulsively in the air till it drowned. But there were all too few of these individual victories. The main body of the Quabos, rank on rank, dragging their water-hose behind them, came on with the steadiness of a machine.

Slowly we were driven back down the broad street and toward the palace. As we retreated, old people and children came from the houses and went with us, leaving their dwellings to the mercy of the monsters.

A block from the palace we bunched together and, by sheer mass and ferocity, actually stopped the machinelike advance for a few moments. Miscellaneous weapons had been brought from the houses—sledges, stone benches, anything that might break the Quabos' helmets—and handed to us in silence by the noncombatants.

Somebody tugged at my sleeve. Looking down I saw a little girl. She had dragged a heavy metal bar out to the fray and was trying to get some fighter's attention and give it to him.

I seized the formidable weapon and jumped at the nearest Quabo, a ten-foot giant whose eyes were glinting gigantically at me through the distorting curve of the glass.

Disregarding the clutching tentacles entirely, I swung the bar against the helmet. It cracked. I swung again and it fell in fragments, spilling the gallons of water it had contained.

The tentacles wound vengefully around me, but in a few seconds they relaxed as the thing gasped out its life in the air.

I turned to repeat the process on another if I could, and found myself facing the Queen. Her head was held bravely high, though the violet of her eyes had gone almost black with fear and repulsion of the terrible things we fought.

"Aga!" I cried. "Why art thou here! Go back to the palace at once!"

"I came to fight beside thee," she answered composedly, though her delicate lips quivered. "All is lost, it seems. So shall I die beside thee."

I started to reply, to urge her again to seek the safety of the palace. But by now the deadly advance of the tentacled demons had begun once more.

Fighting vainly, the population of Zyobor was swept into the palace grounds, then into the building itself.

Men, women and children huddled shoulder to shoulder in the cramping quarters. An ironic picture came to me of the crowding masses of Quabos stuffed into the protection of the outer cave, waiting the outcome of the fight being waged by their warriors. Here were we in a similar circumstance, waiting for the battle to be decided. Though there was little doubt in the minds of any of us as to what the outcome would be.

Guards, the strongest men of the city, were stationed with sledges at the doors and windows. The Quabos, able only to enter one at a time, halted a moment and there was a badly needed breathing spell.

"We've got to find some drastic means of defence," said the Professor, "or we won't last another three hours."

"If you asked me, I'd say we couldn't last another three hours anyway," replied Stanley with a shrug. "These fish have out-thought us!"

"Nonsense! There may still be a way—"

"A brace of machine-guns...." I murmured hopefully.

"You might as well wish for a dozen light cannon!" snapped the Professor. "Please try to concentrate, and see if any effective weapon suggests itself to you—something more available at the moment than machine-guns."

In silence the three of us racked our brains for a means of defence. Aga, leaving for a time the task of soothing her more hysterical subjects, came quietly over to us and sat on the bench beside me.

Frankly I could think of nothing. To my mind we were surely doomed. What arms could possibly be contrived at such short notice? What weapon could be called forth to be effective against the thick glass helmets?

But as I glanced at Stanley I saw his face set in a new expression as his thoughts took a turn that suggested possible salvation.

"Glass," he muttered. "Glass. What destroys it? Sharp blows ... certain acids ... variation in temperature ... heat and cold.... That's it! That's it!"

He turned excitedly to the Queen.

"I think we have it! At least it's worth trying. If there is any tubing around...." He stopped as he realized he was talking in English, and resumed stiltedly in Aga's own language.

"Hast thou, in the palace, any lengths of pipe like to that which the Quabos drag behind them?"

"No ..." Aga began, her eyes round and wondering. Then she interrupted herself. "Ah, yes! There is! In a vault near that of Kilor's there is a great spool of it. He had it fashioned to carry air for one of his experiments—"

"Come along!" cried Stanley. "I'll explain what I have in mind while we dig up this coil of hose."

A score of Zyobite workmen were gathered at once. The length of hose—made of some linen-like fabric of tough, shredded sea-weed and covered with a flexible metal sheath—was cut into three pieces each about fifty yards long. These were connected to three of the largest gas vents of the palace.

Stanley, the Professor and I each took an end. And we prepared to fight, with fire, the creatures of water.

"It ought to work," Stanley, repeated several times as though trying to reassure himself as well as us. "It's simple enough: the water in those helmets is ice cold: if fire is suddenly squirted against them they'll crack with the uneven expansion."

"Unless," retorted the Professor, "their glass has some special heat and cold resisting quality."

Stanley shrugged.

"It may well have some such properties. How such creatures can make glass at all is beyond me!"

Dragging our hose to the big front entrance of the palace, and warning the crowded people to keep their feet clear of it, we prepared to test out the efficiency of this, our last resource against the enemy.

For an instant we paused just inside the doorway, looking out at the ugly, glassed-in Things that were massing to attack us again.

The ranks of Quabos had closed in now, till they extended down the street for several hundred yards in close formation—a forest of great pulpy heads with huge eyes that glared unblinkingly at the glittering, pink building that was their objective.

"Light up!" ordered Stanley, setting an example by touching his hose nozzle to the nearest wall jet. A spurt of fire belched from his hose, streaming out for four or five feet in a solid red cone. The Professor and I touched off our torches; and we moved slowly out the door toward the ranks of Quabos.

"Don't try to save yourselves from their tentacles," advised Stanley. "Walk right up to them, direct the fire against their helmets, and damn the consequences. If they grip too hard you can always play the torch on their tentacles till they think better of it."

The Quabos' front line humped grimly toward us, unblinking eyes glaring, tentacles writhing warily, little spurts of used water trickling from their helmets.

"Keep together," warned Stanley, "so that if any one of us loses his light he can get it from the hose of one of the other two. And—Here they come!"

There was no more time for commands. The Quabos in front, supplied with slack in their hoses by those behind, leaped at us with incredible agility. We fell back a step so that none should get at our backs.

The last stand was begun.

It was not a battle so much as a series of fierce duels. The Quabos realized their new danger instantly, and devoted all their efforts to extinguishing our torches. We parried and thrust with the flaming hoses in an equally desperate effort to prevent it.

One of them scuttled toward me like a great crab. A tentacle darted toward my right arm. Another was pressed against the nozzle. There was a sickening smell—and the tentacle was jerked spasmodically away.

I caught the hose in my left hand and turned the fiery jet against the water-filled helmet.

A shout of savage exultation broke from my lips. Hardly, had the flame touched the glass before it cracked! There was a report like a pistol shot—and a miniature Niagara of water and splintered glass poured at my feet!

The tentacle around my arm tightened, then relaxed. The monster shuddered in a convulsive heap on the ground.

I went toward the next one, swinging the flaring hose in a slow arc as I advanced. The creature lunged at me and threshed at the burning jet with all four of its feelers. But it had been exposed to the air for a long time now. The ghastly tentacles were dry; withered and soft. A touch of the fire seared them unmercifully.

Nevertheless with a swift move it slapped a tentacle squarely down over the hose nozzle. The flame was extinguished as the flame of a candle is pinched out between thumb and forefinger. I retreated.

"Catch!" came a voice behind me.

The Professor swung his four-foot jet my way. I held my hose to it, and the flame burst out again. A touch at my grisly antagonist's helmet—a sharp crack—the welcome rush of water over the cream-colored grass—and another monster was writhing in the death throes!

Keeping close together, the three of us faced the massed Quabos in the palace grounds. Again and again the fiery weapon of one or the other of us was dashed out—to be re-lighted from the nearest hose. Again and again loud detonations heralded the collapse of more of the invaders.

But it seemed as though their flailing tentacles were as myriad as the stars they had never seen. It seemed as though their numbers would never appreciably diminish. We thrust and parried till our arms grew numb. And still there appeared to be hundreds of the Quabos left.

By order of the Queen three stout Zyobites stepped up to us and relieved us of our exhausting labor. Gladly we handed the hoses to them and went to the palace for a much needed rest.

Two more shifts of fighters took the flaming jets before the monsters began the retreat slowly back toward their tunnel. And here the Professor took command again.

"We mustn't let them get away to try some new scheme!" he snapped. "Martin, take fifty men and beat them back to the break in the wall. Go around a side street. They move so slowly that you can easily cut off their retreat."

"There isn't any more hose—" began Stanley.

"There's plenty of it. The Quabos brought it with them." The Professor turned to me again. "Take metal-saws with you. Cut sections of the Quabos water-hose and connect them to the nearest wall jets. Run!"

I ran, with fifty of the men of Zyobor close behind me. We dodged out the side of the palace grounds least guarded by the Quabos, ducking between their ranks like infantry men threading through an opposition of powerful but slow-moving tanks. Four of our number were caught, but the rest got through unscathed.

Down a side street we raced, and along a parallel avenue toward the tunnel. As we went I prayed that all the Quabos had centered their attention on the palace and left their vulnerable water-hoses unguarded.

They had! When we stole up the last block toward the break we found the nearest Quabo was a hundred yards down the street—and working further away with every move.

At once we set to work on the scores of hoses that quivered over the floor with each move of the distant monsters.

A Zyobite with the muscles of a Hercules swung his ax mightily down on a hose. The metal was soft enough to be sheered through by the stroke. The cut ends were smashed so that they could not be crammed down over the tapering jets; but we could use our metal-saws for cleaner severances at the other ends.

The giant with the ax stepped from hose to hose. Lengths were completed with the saws. A man was placed at each jet to hold the connections in position. Before the Quabos had reached us we had rigged six fire-hoses and had cut through forty or fifty more water-lines.

The end was certain and not long in coming.

We sprayed the monsters with fire as workmen spray fruit trees with insect poison. Stanley, the Professor and a Zyobite came up in the rear with their three hoses.

Caught between the two forces, the beaten fish milled in hopeless confusion and indecision.

In half an hour they were all reduced to huddles of slimy wet flesh that dotted the pavement from the break back to the palace grounds. The invaders were completely annihilated—and the city of Zyobor was saved!

"Now," said the Professor triumphantly, "we have only to knock out the bottom half of the tunnel wall, empty the tunnel and make sure there are no more Quabos lurking there. After that we can fill it in with solid cement. The Queen can order her fish-servants to guard the outer cave and see that no food gets in to the starving monsters there. The war is over, gentlemen. The Quabos are as good as exterminated at this moment. And I can get back to my zoological work...."

Stanley and I looked at each other. We knew each others thoughts well enough.

He could resume his companionship with the beautiful Mayis. And I—I had Aga....

With the menace of the Quabos banished forever, the city of Zyobor resumed its normal way.

The citizens lowered their dead into the great well we had cut, with appropriate rites performed by the Queen. The daily tasks and pleasures were picked up where they had been dropped. The haunting fear died from the eyes of the people.

Shortly afterward, with great ceremony and celebration, I was made King of Zyobor, to rule by Aga's side. Stanley took Mayis for his wife. He is second to me in power. The Professor is the official wise man of the city.

Life flows smoothly for us in this pink lighted community. We are more than content with our lot here. Our only concern has been the grief that must have been occasioned our relatives and friends when the Rosa sailed home without us.

Now we have thought of a way in which, with luck, we may communicate with the upper world. By relays of my Queen's fish-servants we believe we can send up the Professor's invaluable notes[A] and this informal account of what has happened since we left San Francisco that....

(Editor's note: There was no trace of any "notes." The yacht, Rosa, was reported lost with all hands in a hurricane off New Zealand. Aboard her were a Professor George Berry and the owner, Stanley Browne. There is no record, however, of any passenger by the name of Martin Grey. To date no one has taken this document seriously enough to consider financing an expedition of investigation to Penguin Deep.)

#free books #Astounding Stories of Super-Science #Science Fiction #Scifi #deep sea exploration #Deep sea scifi #described images

[miss-smutty]

Forbidden - Chapter 2

Summary- Jess couldn't stop thinking about the guy she'd met in the coffee shop, he was drop dead gorgeous, mature and everything she's always wanted but how would she find him again when she didn't even know his name?

Word count- 3.1K

Pairing- Prof!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, slight smut talk

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 13th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

Chapter 1

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again.

If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

"Morning, you feeling any better?" Ellie was awake before me as usual, she spent hours getting ready in the morning and was now sat at her desk finishing her make up.

"I suppose, can't beat myself up forever can I?" I was more the get up and go kind of girl, I could never understand why she'd take hours getting ready just to go to class but I suppose you never know who you're going to bump into.

"No you can not. Not when there's literally thousands of guys here to take your pick of." 

"Psh!" I finally pull myself out of bed after thinking about the thought of possibly bumping into my hunk again I changed my mind about making myself a little more presentable.

"What d'ya mean psh?" Ellie turns to look at you, her mascara wand in her hand and only one eye made up, she looked ridiculous. How could you take her seriously looking like that? 

"I mean I'm not interested in these childish boys anymore El, I want a man." 

"Fuck me, you spoke to the guy for two minutes and already you're acting like you've lost the love of your life." Wow, that hurt a little.

"I didn't say I was talking about him although it would be nice. I just meant I'm sick of playing all these childish games and never knowing where I stand. Don't you get sick of being the one who always falls deeper? Getting messed about and then being the one who's left hurt?" I joined her at the desk, putting on a little mascara and eyeliner. "I want a man who knows what he wants and treats me better. Don't you?"

"Well shit, when you put it like that I can't argue with you. It would be nice, hey I wonder if Mr Aussie has a brother?" She waggles her eyebrows at me, making me laugh. "I gotta go babe, what class you got?" 

"My first Comms class this morning." I did not sound excited at the prospect because I really wasn't. I'd put it off in freshman and sophomore years but thought I better get it over and done with before my senior year.

"Oh really? I didn't know you'd taken that class. I heard a load of seniors talking the other day and apparently the Professor is drop dead gorgeous. I was thinking about taking it up too just to see what all the fuss was about." 

"Well that should make the class a lot more interesting, maybe it isn't going to be as bad as I thought."

"See, every cloud and all that. See you tonight, fancy the bar?" She shouts over her shoulder as she walks towards the door.

"Sounds good, see you later."

I looked over my outfit I'd already chosen for the day, just some jeans and a plain t-shirt and realised it wouldn't do. Not when there's the prospect of a hot Professor to impress. My wardrobe desperately needed an update, especially now I was focused on finding myself a man and not one of these easily pleased college boys, that were happy with anything as long as I showed a bit of leg and tits. I settled with some tight black jeans with a black, lace-rimmed, cami body suit and a cute little cream, cropped blazer to finish it off. It made me feel confident when I checked myself out in the mirror and if I do say so myself I looked smoking hot. I checked the time on my phone, realising I was going to be late I quickly ran the curling tongs through the ends of my long blonde hair before grabbing my bag and rushing out of the door.

In the hopes of catching the eye of this new professor I'd completely forgotten about the hottie from the coffee shop, which was probably a good thing, it's not like I'm ever going to see him again. I kind of wished I would though, especially when I was looking and feeling this great but hey, on to bigger and better prospects.

I thought that being late would mean I'd be stuck with a lame choice of desk in class but luckily the back row was practically empty and I could hide in the corner of the lecture theatre. I laughed to myself when I realised that practically all the girls were occupying the front desks, obviously they'd heard the rumours too.

I pushed my hair behind my ears and fumbled in my bag for my pen and notepad, when I glanced to the door and caught the eyes of a student I hadn't seen before. I couldn't deny how attractive he was, with his bright blue eyes and floppy hair, oh and that smile. Wow! He smiled brightly at me as he made his way to the back of the class, his eyes glinting, shining like diamonds as he ignored the whispers from the girls at the front. The whole row of desks were free so when he chose the desk right next to me, my stomach fluttered.

I kept my eyes on my notepad, doodling on the front cover so as to avoid that eye contact with him again. I could see a cheeky glint in his eyes and I'd learnt from experience what that meant, trouble. I wasn't ready to get myself back into a situation like that again.

My eyes shot to the front as I heard the room erupt into wolf whistles, the girls at the front giggling and whispering to each other, I rolled my eyes at them, how embarrassing. 

Then I realised what all the fuss was about and my heart almost stopped beating, thudding against my chest at an alarming rate. How is this even possible? How the fuck could he be a professor? Surely he's not old enough. Oh fuck.

I sank lower in my chair, willing the ground to just swallow me up or maybe if I got low enough I would escape his notice. No such luck, his eyes scanned the class and when they fell on mine, his face lit up with anger? No not anger. A hunger. His eyes scanned my body, falling over my hair and down to my cleavage. I felt hot under his gaze, was I blushing? Sweating? Oh god, I've never wished for class to be over so much in my life.

My professor was the guy I'd been shamelessly flirting with in the coffee shop. I don't understand how this could be real, I know I wanted to bump into him again but this is such a cruel twist of fate. I'd never even suspected him to be a professor, he was so damn thick and muscly. The clothes he wore were so stylish and he looked way too young to be a professor. He must be so embarrassed that he'd been flirting with a student, I definitely was embarrassed that I'd been flirting with a professor.

I was so panicked, I didn't have a clue what to do in this situation. Squirming in my seat, trying to look anywhere but at the Professor but I could feel his eyes on me as he prepared for the class to start. People were still whispering amongst themselves and I risked a glance in his direction, that made me bite on to my lip to stop myself from screeching. His eyes were still on me, subtly glancing up from the pile of paper he'd just taken out of his bag, his eyebrows furrowed as he studied me. He certainly didn't look embarrassed infact he looked downright feral and the thought of it made my pussy clench, so much so I had to cross my legs under the table.

"I guess you're obsessed with this new Professor too, huh?" The guy next to me leant across his desk to whisper and fuck me if I wasn't imagining it but he was Australian too. Like have we just suddenly had a huge delivery of hot Australian guys arrive at the University? This was just downright unfair, how was I meant to cope?

"No, what makes you say that?" Why did I ask that question? Like it wasn't obvious how much I was sweating and squirming in my seat. Luckily he didn't have time to answer when my eyes were drawn back to the professor as he stood at the front of the class with his hands casually in his pockets and cleared his throat to get our attention.

If I wasn't mistaken, now he looked angry, the muscles in his neck more prominent as he glared between me and the guy next to me.

Was he angry that my attention had been taken away from him and was on another guy? Or because we were talking when we should've been paying attention?

"Now I've got your attention, we're going to use our first session to get to know each other a little better. You'll be doing quite a lot of speeches so it's best if you feel comfortable with one another. I'll start by introducing myself." That sexy accent makes me sweat even more, nevermind the fact that his eyes keep finding their way back to me. "So, I'm Professor Hemsworth and I'm originally from Melbourne in Australia." His eyes meet mine again, a knowing look in them.

"G'day mate." Some idiot from the back shouted, making everyone laugh and I couldn't help but join in a little. Professor Hemsworth smiled at the joke, his eyes creasing in the corners and his smile growing wider when he looked to me and saw me giggling.

"Yeah, very original. Alright, alight, settle down now." His voice is so commanding and authoritive, it's such a turn on. "So, I haven't been here for very long and I'm still getting used to how different things are here. The weather for one." He earned a couple of laughs from people. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, he was so mesmerizing. The way his face animated as he spoke, his eyebrows raising and lips curling.

"I was going to ask you all to go easy on me but that's not going to happen is it?" He got a couple of head shakes and sympathetic looks from the girls. "No, I thought not. Well now it's my turn to torture you. I'll start alphabetically, stand up and tell everyone something about yourself." I swallowed back my fear, this is the reason I'd put off this class until now and as if it wasn't hard enough talking in front of a whole class I now had to do it in front of Professor Hemsworth too.

"Claire Abbott." Fuck. He'd started, at least my name would be one of the last ones.

"Hi I'm Claire." The tall blonde at the front stood up, twirling her hair around her finger and giggling like a child. I rolled my eyes at her and caught the Professor smirk in my direction. "I erm… I don't know what to say?" She looks up at the Professor questioningly.

"Just anything about yourself that we might find interesting, the first thing that comes to mind." He replied.

"Well I own four horses and I'm the cheer captain." I rolled my eyes again, scoffing quietly and Professor Hemsworth had to hold in a laugh as he looked in my direction.

"Talk about predictable." The guy next to me leaned over to whisper to me again.

"Totally." I laughed back at him and when I looked back at the Professor he was glaring straight at us again, his face set sternly.

"You two at the back, we'll wait for you shall we?" Professor Hemsworth said sternly, everyone turned around to look at us but I barely noticed, I was too focused on the way his stern voice made my cunt flutter when he called me out.

I didn't speak for the rest of the class, although I had the urge to, just to hear the way his voice sounded when he was angry. I couldn't concentrate on what the other students were saying, too focused on watching the way the Professor's face changed everytime he looked my way, which was pretty often, to my suprise.

"Jake Hudson." In my peripheral, I saw the guy next to me stand and when he did, Professor Hemsworth's eyes narrowed.

"Hi I'm Jake." He pushed his hands in to his pockets cooly, glancing at me as he did. "I'm also from Australia." He looked at the professor slyly, a smirk forming on his lips, laughing at the other students shouting G'day mate. "I was forced to move here but I'm glad I did because I've just met the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." The class burst into rounds of whistles and cheers as Jake sat down, smiling at me cockily. I could feel my cheeks blushing, I was flattered, he was absolutely gorgeous but hadn't I sworn of boys my own age?

Professor Hemsworth looked even more angry now as he loosened his tie a little, that black tie that draws my view down, like a arrow pointing straight to his cock. I tried to keep my eyes down on my desk, doodling in my notebook so I could avoid that hungry gaze, anxiously waiting for my turn. What the hell was I going to say?

"Jessica Watson." Shit. I stood slowly, trying to give myself more time to think, I couldn't stand everyone's eyes being on me especially the Professors and Jakes.

"Hey, I'm Jessica." I smiled nervously, tucking my hair behind my ear. "These last couple of days have been pretty eventful for me." I looked away from the chalk board so I could search Professor Hemsworth's face. "I'm living the life of a romance novels heroine and I'm excited to see what the next couple of days bring." I sat down keeping the gaze of the professor, I'd forgotten I was in a room full of people until I heard the ooh's and ahh's and my cheeks turned scarlet. The Professor's eyes glowed with heat as he watched me sit down before shaking his head and turning back to the class. Jake also caught my eye as I sat back at my desk, my cheeks still burning, he smiled at me, the kind of smile that crinkles your eyes. I felt kind of bad that he probably thought I was talking about him when in fact I was talking about our professor.

"I hope we all feel a bit more comfortable with each other now, some of you shared some pretty revealing things." He looked at me again. "Some of you, not so much." He raised his eyebrows at a group of guys. "I'll have a schedule for you all next time I see you, anybody that has any questions can see me after class, everyone else is free to leave." His eyes scanned me as he turned around to sit at his desk, I watched a couple of girls approach him predictably.

"Are you going to the party at our frat this weekend?" I had to reluctantly pull my eyes away from the Professor while Jake spoke, so he was a Alpha Kappa, not surprising really.

"Yeah, I think so. My roommate mentioned it."

"Oh good, I'll see you there then. Jessica." He smiled, standing from his seat.

"Jess." I corrected him. I hated being called Jessica, it was so formal.

"Well Jess, I'll see you around." He winked at me as he pulled his backpack on to his shoulder.

There were still a couple of girls taking up the Professor's attention and I wasn't sure yet whether I wanted to sneak past or wait to speak to him. I thought about it for a minute my fingertips drumming against my desk when the girls left and he was alone. As soon as the door closed, his gaze was on me and I could hear the silence in the room like a ringing in my ears. We stayed like that for a couple of seconds, staring at each other, no one saying a word until her cleared his throat. I blinked a couple of times, realising how stupid I must look before getting up from my seat and packing my things away.

"Did you need to talk Miss Watson?" I could hear amusement in his voice as he sat back on his desk casually, his arms folded across his chest.

"I erm…" I walked towards him, my legs feeling like jelly all of sudden and trying not to fall down the stairs. "I wanted to apologise, I had no idea you were a Professor." I said as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I didn't know what to do with myself but I was nervous about getting closer to him. He made the atmosphere feel tense, like if I was to reach out and touch him I would burn my fingers so I stood awkwardly at the bottom of the steps.

"There's no need to apologise Miss Watson, I also had no idea you were a student but I was hoping to bump into you again. Funny how things work out isn't it?" He cocked his eyebrow at me, still looking amused as he watched me squirm. When he said he'd been hoping to bump into me again it made me feel more confident, like I wasn't imagining the way he'd been looking at me for the last hour.

"I think fate can be rather cruel Professor Hemsworth." I smiled at him as I finally closed the distance between us, watching his eyes flare with hunger when I called him Professor.

"Oh really? Why is that Miss Watson?" His eyes narrowed, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as I got close enough to touch him, I didn't though. I didn't dare break that boundary, not yet.

I smiled at him through my lashes, biting on to my lip. "I was hoping to bump into you again too, only now the thought of what could've happened will have to remain a fantasy." Wow! I was not expecting that, did I sound like a slut? Shit. I looked back up at him and caught him gulp, that hunger in his eyes shining, his pupils blown with lust, he loosened his tie even more and I caught a glimpse of his smooth chest and chickened out. The tension was way too much and I was about to do something I was going to regret, I could live with being a huge tease instead.

"I better get to my next class, we can't have anyone thinking I'm your favourite now can we?" I smiled to myself when I noticed the muscles in his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. Turning to leave I looked back over my shoulder and his eyes were glued to my hips, watching them sway as I walked and I realised I had him exactly where I wanted him but was it worth the risk?

#smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #chris hemsworth x oc #chris Hemsworth x ofc #chris Hemsworth series #thor series #thor smut #thor x you #chris Hemsworth #chris hemsworth fic #chris hems x you #chris hems x oc

[littleoddwriter]

Bored | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader | Smut

"hello I have a request as usual  (nsf/w as warned lol) Prompt 24 "I am working here!" (sorry don't know the exact line.) Roman Sionis x male!reader. Reader is needy as usual for reasons (idk, woke up after a particular dream, is just horny because he is, wants Roman, take your pick) but Roman is working in the living room or in the club or something and so he really can't just abandon that for reader because it's ~important work~. Reader keeps badgering him and whining for him so eventually roman snaps (hence that line) and yeah, the whole cock warming etc ensues, you know what I mean" @iscariot-rising​

summary; You’re bored and horny and want attention from Roman, who is working. Smut ensues. This is really just PWP.

notes; KINKS: Daddy!Kink; Degradation (Reader is being called a ‘whore’ and a ‘slut’); Dom/Sub; Cockwarming; Facefucking; Fingersucking; Bratting (i guess); Subspace. Male!Reader; PWP; Lemon; Smut; Boredom; Horniness; Roman is beautiful. 

You were bored out of your mind. Not having much, or anything really, to do you didn't know what to make of yourself for the day; and usually you would do something with Roman, whatever he felt like doing, but he was working. He sat at the dining table in front of his laptop and typing away on some things. You didn't know what he was doing and which of his businesses it concerned, but you really wanted him to stop and pay attention to you instead.

Lying on the chaise longue that was closest to the dining table, you looked at him.

You've been looking at him for a while; and you knew that he was trying to ignore the feeling of your eyes on him. Your gaze roamed over his body, picking out details about him; like how his hair wasn't done as nicely as usual, a few strands loose and hanging over his forehead, and how he didn't use hair gel to put it into place, so it looked fluffy and soft. He also didn't bother to put on one of his many suits, instead he sat there in his purple silk robe, a grey soft cotton shirt that still cost more than your smartphone, and his pyjama pants with his face printed on them, such as his slippers with his initials on them. It was a favourite of yours. He looked delectable in everything he wore, but fuck, you really liked it when he just looked comfortable and less well put together. It turned you on. Which, fair enough, wasn't hard for him to achieve; you were horny for him basically all day, every day as it was.

When you were bored, you usually were also extra horny. It was just how it worked for you. Usually, you would have resorted to getting yourself off, but since you've been with Roman that was barely needed anymore and frankly, it left you feeling unsatisfied.

Instead you thought that Roman should take a break from working anyway; he's been at it for at least two hours straight, so that would be fair.

So you whined, pathetically and unmistakebly wanton, and elongating each syllable, "Daddy."

Roman ignored you, not even glancing at you or stopping to type. Nothing.

Pouting, you did it again.

Still no reaction.

Fine then.

"Daddy, I'm bored! Bored and horny. Daddy, please." You were laying it on thick, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

That got a bit of a reaction out of him; he stopped typing for a moment, closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Then he continued to ignore you. Pity.

Standing up, you sauntered over to him, swaying your hips a little. He paid you no mind. When you reached him, you draped your arms over his shoulders and leaned your forehead against the back of his head. Fuck, his hair really was as soft as it looked. Nuzzling it, you withdrew your arms so far, that your hands sat on his shoulders. You squeezed them, kneading the tense muscles there.

"Daddy, please pay attention to me. Please, I need you!" You whined again, pressing kisses into his hair.

"I'm trying to fucking work here! So, could you stop fucking annoying me? Fuck!" He growled.

For a short moment, you faltered, unsure if he really wanted you to stop entirely, or if perhaps he was just playing it up. It was always hard to tell with him.

When he didn't try to pry out of your hands on him, though, you were fairly sure that he was alright with it after all and just playing along.

"But Daddy, I really need you! You wouldn't want me to go and just get myself off, would you?"

Roman sighed, sounding annoyed with you, and leaned back against you. Promptly, he grabbed one of your hands and tugged you forward. You lost your balance and came around the chair he was sitting on, when you felt a little more steady again. Standing next to him, he looked up at you, your hand still tightly grasped in his own.

"You wanna play with Daddy, even though he is so very busy, huh, baby boy?" He rasped, a playfully dangerous edge to his voice and eyes.

You swallowed thickly, already so fucking aroused by him; you could only nod dumbly.

"Use your words, sweet boy. I've taught you better than this, haven't I?"

"Y-yes, Daddy. Please, I need you, I can't wait till you're done."

"Well then, baby, I don't want to keep you waiting any longer, now do I?" You shook your head. "No, of course I don't. Why don't you go and get yourself a pillow from the chaise longue, hm?"

He let go of your wrist after you whimpered a 'yes, Daddy' once more, and then you went and got one of the many pillows. You chose your favourite, the really fluffy one with the orange fur on top.

Coming back to him, you stood just a few inches away from him, the pillow close to your chest, enveloped by your arms. "What now, Daddy?"

"Now, I'd like you to get in between my legs and on your knees, like a good little boy, 'kay?" As he said that, he spread his legs wide enough for you to fit in between.

Without hesitation, you got under the table, put the pillow on the floor and kneeled on it. Then you looked up at him, smiling and looking eager as ever.

"Good boy," he cooed and you bit your lower lip in response, shivering slightly.

He lifted his hips slightly, as he pulled down his pants. Of course he wasn't wearing any underwear, so he pulled them down just far enough that he could pull out his half-hard cock comfortably. Your mouth watered at the sight. You'd never get over how fucking perfect it was; to you anyway.

"Keep it warm then, will you? No sucking, no bobbing your head - just keep it in your mouth and hold still. 'Kay?"

"Yes, Daddy! Anything for you," you moaned, grinning stupidly up at him.

"Dumb little slut," he murmured, smirking down at you. "C'mon then, Daddy won't ask again," he rasped and gripped the back of your head tightly, pulling you forward and into his crotch.

You let loose another lewd moan and mouthed at his cock a little, licking over it and pressing open mouthed, panting kisses on it. Roman pulled on your hair to get you back on track, as you got so distracted by having his dick in your face. You stopped mouthing at him and instead put him in your mouth just far enough to not breach your throat, so you could still breathe shallowly. Then you leaned your head against his thigh, unseeingly looking up at him through your lashes. He loosened his grip on your hair and stroked it gently.

"That's my good boy, hm?" You made an excited, affirmative sound in the back of your throat. "Yes, you are. Now, promise to keep still and let me finish my work. When I'm done, I'll play with you properly, 'kay?"

You gave him a thumbs up and relaxed into having his softening cock in your mouth.

Drool formed in the corners of your mouth and your bottom lip, running down your chin. You weren't allowed to suckle or swallow, so you didn't, and let it all flow instead. Usually, you didn't like it, and neither did Roman; but in moments like that your mind was blissfully empty and Sionis liked to indulge you. So, neither of you could really give a fuck about the drool making a mess of your shirt, his pants, and the pillow below you.

You couldn't possibly tell how long it's been, but your joints and your neck were rather stiff, when Roman pulled on your hair again to make you pay attention and get off his cock. Still a little behind on everything happening, you slowly rose your head from his thigh and let his cock slip from your mouth; a trail of spit and a little precome connecting your lips to his length.

"What a good boy you are, hm? Kept still the entire two hours I've had you on your knees here. Aw, baby, let's go then, have a bit of real fun. What does that sound like to you, sweet boy?" Roman cooed stroking your hair gently and as if you were a dog, rather than a person.

"Love it, please, Daddy, want you," you slurred, smiling up at him.

Gently, he held your jaw away from himself as he pushed out the chair and stood up, smirking down at you.

"I'm going to fuck your face, 'kay, baby?"

You could only nod frantically, despite the grip on your jaw.

He gripped his cock with his own hand and moved it up and down, swirling over the head and making himself groan, as he got hard. When he was fully erect, he buried both of his hands in your hair and gripped onto your head tightly, but not painfully so. You opened your mouth wide for him, and then he was already guiding his hard cock into your waiting, spit-slick mouth. Both of you moaned at that.

Then he started moving, first thrusting in shallowly, yet with force behind it. When he felt like you got used to it enough, he moved his hips quicker and with more intent, shoving his cock down your throat repeatedly, until he kept it there, buried down your tight, convulsing throat. Tears started to roll down your cheeks then, your face red, your eyes unseeing.

He pulled out when you could barely keep your eyes open anymore. Roman gave you a few seconds to breathe and then he was back inside and down your throat once more. That process was repeated a few times, until eventually, he kept his cockhead in your mouth and jacked himself off, coming in your mouth with loud groans.

You moaned lewdly, and as if it was the best thing in the world, which to you, in this moment - it was.

When he was done, he tucked himself back into his pants and looked down at you. You had a stupid, happy smile on your face, and showed off your empty mouth, after having swallowed down his load.

You were hard and aching in your pants, and you wanted to come so desperately, but you couldn't make yourself signalise it in any way, too fucked out already.

"Aw, baby, look at you. Absolutely fucking ruined. You're such a filthy fucking whore for Daddy, aren't you?" His voice was raw and husky now, it made you whine wantonly.

"Yes, Daddy!" It was barely intelligible at all.

"Get yourself off for me, will you? Right here, right now. But don't make a mess of the floor, 'kay?" Roman commanded you.

Obediently as ever, you nodded and got your own hard cock out of your sweat pants. To wet your hand and make the slide of it a little easier, you put your fingers in your mouth and drooled all over your hand for a minute, still looking up at Roman with such desperation and adoration in your eyes.

When you deemed your hand wet enough, you wrapped it around your cock and started moving it up and down roughly in a quick pace. Roman kept cooing and rasping filthy shit to you and you came impossibly quick, making an even bigger mess of your shirt and sweat pants than before already. You moaned loudly all the way through it, but focused on not getting anything on the floor. Satisfied, you noted that your come only landed on your clothes, and your hand, and nothing else.

Afterwards, you were panting, red-faced and looking fucked out in the best possible way.

"Thank you, Daddy!" You slurred.

"You're welcome, baby," Roman replied and helped you to stand up and into the nearest bathroom. 

#tw daddy kink #tw degradation #tw kink #lemon fic #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis x you #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x male!reader #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor imagine

[skittles1229]

Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: Weird Circumstances

You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 

California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 

I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 

My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...

Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament

          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 

     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.

     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 

     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 

     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..

There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here

https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb

#dashiegames #dashiexp #dashie x reader #fanfictions #fanfic #self insert #romance

[z-iridest]

(A/N: Okay, guys, I hope you enjoy a little Denki Kaminari fluff ^.^ A big thank you to @lxvely-mha for helping me with the idea, if you haven't checked out their blog, YOU HAVE NOT LIVED! Lxvly, this is for you, and I hope you don't mind if I drew from your headcannons for Denki Kaminari as a boyfriend)

Hungry Eyes: A Denki Kaminari x Shy & Clumsy Female! Reader One Shot

It all started with a dance....

As the daughter of a pro hero, I had to be ready for anything. A villain attack, random people wanting an autograph from my Dad, and my Dad's infamous loud as hell outbursts to name a few. Considering that the Pro Hero I'm talking about is Present Mic, it's actually kind of ironic that his daughter is a silent, shy klutz that has a similar quirk to his. Mine is literally a sonic scream.....

My clumsiness is going to be my death one day. It's why I've never danced at any school dances, preferring to be either sitting on the sidelines, or next to the DJ booth (sometimes in it if my Dad was the DJ). I'd already embarrassed myself several times tripping over anything and everything, no reason to do it with an audience. To be fair, my Dad did try teaching me how to dance..... Hours of sore feet on my Dad's end later and me falling on my rear way too many times, we were both ready to call it quits. Speaking of my Dad....

There's only a handful of people I've ever talked outloud to: My Dad, My Mom, and my Uncle: Shota Aizawa (yeah, Aizawa is my godfather, get over it). Everyone else, I talk to using JSL or writing down what I want to say. I only talk to people I'm not comfortable around when it's an absolute necessity. Why? Allow me to take you back a few months ago....

See, when I first started at U.A., I started dating this guy... You actually know him. Remember Monoma from Class 1-B? Yeah....

Well, everything was going great with him... Until I caught him making out with a different girl. He had the audacity to tell me it was my own fault for not measuring up to his "perfect standards" and told me I'd never be good enough to live up to my Dad's rep as a Pro Hero, that I was a waste of space. I kinda just shut down after that, refusing to talk to my Dad or Uncle Shota for a while, especially since Monoma spread a rumor around school that I was quirkless. That got me bullied a bit until Dad got wind of it.....

Boy, was he mad....

But don't worry! Everything's fine now. The rumors died down about a month ago, though I think that was mainly due to me joining the BakuSquad.... For those who don't know, the BakuSquad is a group of a bunch of loveable goofballs and their explosive pomeranian of a leader: Katsuki Bakugo. Mina was the one who brought me into the group, and thank god, they never pushed me to talk. I mainly just listened to their antics and tried to hold back fits of laughter. It almost felt normal...

Almost....

Since we broke up, Monoma has a bad habit of cornering me at my locker after school to try to get me to go back to dating him. I always tell him no, and he pushes me around until either Kirishima, Bakugo, Sero or Kaminari come looking for me. I think deep down, he's scared half to hell of Kaminari, because the one time Monoma didn't stop when Kaminari told him to... Oh boy, Pikachu Boy went all out on Monoma, shocking him until he made a run for it. It was actually really funny to watch, I won't lie.....

Back to what I was saying: As the kid of a pro hero, you have to be ready for anything. But, that's where fate'll get you good...

When you least expect it, fate can just (excuse my french) bitch slap you out of nowhere. For example.....

"You did what?!" The only reason I was talking to Mina and Jiro at that second was out of shock. We were in my dorm room, so there was no one around to hear me talk anyways outside of Mina and Jirou.

"Mina decided to nominate you and Kaminari for the couple to do the first dance at the Mid-Summer Dance this year for the first years, and you guys won the school's vote." Jirou told me. I let out a humiliated whine and plopped facedown onto my pillow. The Mid Summer Dance was a school wide dance party to have fun in the final days of summer. One couple from each year did the first, second and third slow dances, the first years being the ones to kick off the actual dance. I felt a hand on my back.

"Aww, come on, Y/N, it's not that bad." Mina's voice told me. I sat up faster than Iida can run, and looked at her with a look that told her I thought she was crazy.

"Are you forgetting who you're talking to? The resident klutz of U.A. High, that's who! I'm gonna die, that's it! Game over, no pro hero career for me! Y/N Yamada, dead at 16! Cause of death: Embarrassing tumble in front of the whole school! I'll be lucky if the dress I wear that night doesn't rip or something on the way there." I burried my face in my pillow again. "Besides, I don't know how to dance. I've always avoided the dancefloor at parties or anything like that."

"Why don't you just ask Kaminari to teach you how to dance?" Jirou asked.

"I've never talked in front of him, remember? And I can't ask him, it'd be too embarrassing." I reminded Jirou.

"Fine, if you won't ask Kaminari to teach you how to dance, I'll ask him for you." Mina's words pierced me with more horror than any thriller movie. Believe me, that's saying something because I hate horror movies.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I shouted, jumping up, but Mina was already out of my room, calling for Kaminari. I raced out of my room after her, but by the time I caught up, she was already telling Kaminari. Crap....The second Kaminari locked eyes with me, I bolted back into my room and hid in the closet. Damn it, Mina! I felt heat rise to my face. Great, now I'm blushing.... Just a few minutes later, I heard footsteps. They stopped before I heard voices.

"Jirou, have you seen Y/N?" Kaminari's voice.

"She's hiding in there." Traitor. I heard footsteps walk away. Okay, maybe Kaminari walked away. Maybe he...

"Y/N?" Damn it, he didn't walk away. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't dance?" I slowly came out of the closet and signed my answer in JSL.

I thought it was obvious. I'm the resident klutz of U.A., so....

"You're scared of falling in front of everyone? You always seem so fearless." Kaminari told me, sitting on my bed. I gave him a You've gotta be kidding me look as I sat down next to him. "I'm serious!"

Looks can be deceiving. I'm scared of everything. I put on a facade during training to make it look like I'm not scared when I actually am.

"You're still such a badass... Anyway, back to the dance. What were you gonna do when the night of the dance came and you still didn't know how to dance?" Kaminari asked me. I shrugged.

I would have figured out something.

"Like what, bailing on the dance all together?" Kaminari asked, raising an eyebrow. I opened my mouth, but quickly closed it. That had been the last resort. "That's what I thought." He stood up and offered his hand to me. "Come on, the dance is a couple weeks away, but we'd better start now if you're gonna be ready." With no other choice, I placed my hand in Kaminari's, a sudden spark flowing from me to him.

And it wasn't from his quirk.

I didn't have time to ponder what the spark even was, because Kaminari pulled me up off my bed and started pulling me to the gym where the dance would be held. I had just enough time to notice how perfectly my hand seemed to fit in his. What's wrong with me?

It was then that the real work began. While keeping up with studying and homework from all my classes (which I had to help Kaminari with most of), and planning the dance with the Dance Committee, I was taking dance lessons with Kaminari. Surprisingly, no matter how much I stepped on his toes, he stayed patient and helped me through it. Everytime I tripped and started falling, he caught me easily. "Now that the worst's happened, you don't have to be scared. I've got you." Kaminari had told me with a wink the first time I had tripped and he had caught me. I have no idea why, but I started blushing like an idiot around him, and kept tripping outside of our dance lessons, worse than my normal clumsiness. If this is what having a crush was, I was falling hard for the human Pikachu.... Literally.

Before I knew it, it was the day before the dance. Kaminari and I danced alone in the gym, and much to my own surprise, I didn't trip. Not once. Kaminari was grinning wider than a Cheshire cat when we finally finished.

"Yes! I knew you could do it, that was awesome!" Kaminari exclaimed with the biggest smile on his face as he pumped both fists in the air. I covered my mouth to keep a laugh in, but it slipped out in a giggle. When I looked up, Denki was looking at me with the most adorable look ever. His head was tilted to one side slightly, and his eyes held this just... Adoring look. "Y'know... Your laugh is adorable." I felt the heat rise to my face as I looked away from him. "I mean it." He made me look at him, giving me a sweet smile. He was so close, one single move from either of us, and we'd be kissing. He cleared his throat after a good long minute, giving me a sheepish smile. "Want to run through it one more time?" He asked me. I nodded and we danced again. I couldn't stop the smile on my face as I danced, feeling happy for the first time in a long time. I noticed that the more I smiled, the more Denki smiled. As we finished the routine perfectly for the second time that day, I felt Denki interlace his fingers with mine, the look on his face serious. He raised one hand, gently cupping the side of my face. My heart started pounding fiercely against my chest. What was going to happen next? "Y/N.... I want to ask you something...." He told me, his eyes and his voice soft. Just as he opened his mouth to continue, my phone rang. I groaned.

"Sorry, I gotta take this." I shrugged before answering my phone.

"Y/N, where are you? We have to do the final preparations for the party!" Mina's voice shrilled at the other end. Iida must have been right there, otherwise she wouldn't have called me about something like this.

"Do I really have to be there?" I asked.

"No, I just need you to answer a couple things over the phone." Mina told me.

"Go for it." I told her, giving Kaminari an apologetic look. He gave me a thumbs up as if silently telling me it was fine. I leaned against the wall behind me as I listened to Mina's questions, answering each one. Everytime I talked, I noticed Denki having that same adoring look on his face. Just as I shifted against the wall a bit, I saw Kaminari start to walk over to me.

"Y/N?" Kaminari called my name, and I noticed he had a determined look on his face."I was wondering... Do you want to go to the dance with me?" I put the phone down for a second, feeling a little confused.

"Yeah, I mean, the BakuSquad's all going together, right? I think Bakugo has us leaving the dorms around 7 or something..." I told him. I heard Mina call my name and put the phone back to my ear. Jeeze, how many more questions did this girl have?

"No, I mean, with me." Denki told me. What was he getting at?

"Yeah, I can swing by your dorm around 6:30." I told him. He did mean arrive there as a group with the squad.... Didn't he? Mina asked me another question before I could think about what he meant. "Yeah, when you're facing the stage it has to go on the left... Right." I shook my head as Mina sounded confused. "No, the left, not the right." I heard Denki mumble something under his breath, something along the lines of,

"Oh man, this is gonna be hard." I suddenly felt his hand on mine as he placed his other arm on the wall next to me. Is he... Doing the kabedon on me? I felt my cheeks turn bright red, as he was really, really close to me now. I was forced to look into his gold eyes, which held a very serious look. "Y/N..." He moved my phone fully from my ear, keeping my closed hand in his. I swear, Mina was intently listening in, because I could hear her suddenly go silent on the other line. "Would you.... Be my date for the Mid-Summer Dance?" A smile crept onto my face, which caused him to chuckle a bit. "And... If you don't absolutely hate me by the end of it... Would you... consider... Maybe, being more than friends?" I smiled up at him brighter. I was getting asked out by my crush! "Maybe?"

"Like... Boyfriend and girlfriend where we can... Hold hands instead of just fist bumping and slugging each other all the time, and... We can text, and I can tell you how great you are, because, Kaminari, you really are great, and I'm the luckiest girl in the world, you're so sweet and adorable, and..." I suddenly felt something warm and soft against my lips, effectively cutting me off. Despite the dark blush on my face, I melted into Denki's kiss. When we finally pulled away, he grinned down at me.

"First of all, you call me Denki. And second, if anyone's the lucky one, it's me, sweetheart." I closed my eyes and blushed darker, if it was humanly possible, as he softly kissed my forehead. I giggled and hugged him, feeling him hug me back. "Well then, milady, until tomorrow night." He grinned goofily as he held my hand in his, bowing and pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand. With a wink and the most adorable smile, he was gone.

When I got back to the dorms, I was greeted by all the girls, each one having the stupidest smile on their faces as they all sat in the common room. I blushed under their stares and said only two words, knowing Mina had heard what had happened after dance practice and had told all the girls. "Shut up." I told them, causing all of them to burst into a giggle fit.

Right after school the next day, the girls of 1-A practically dragged me to my room to get me ready for the dance. Mina, Momo and Ochaco teamed up on picking the dress while Toru and Jirou teamed up on curing my hair. Once my hair was finished being curled and fully hair sprayed, Toru pinned one side of my hair out of my face with bobby pins before Mina, Asui and Ochaco carefully helped me into the dress they chose: an adorable white, off the shoulder sundress that fell to my knees in length. While Ochaco grabbed a pair of white heels for me to wear, Mina did my makeup for me. I put my heels on myself once Mina was done and grabbed my purse, blushing when I saw that all the girls were admiring their work. "Twirl, Y/N! Twirl for us!" Toru cheered at me. I blushed and twirled. The dress spun before falling back into place, the girls awwing before I spoke up, looking at the time.

"Uh, guys? It's 6:45." My words forced them into action, a unanimous:

"Oh, crap!" Leaving each of the girls as they scampered off to go get ready, realizing they had very little time left to ready themselves because of fawning over every little detail when it came to me. I giggled and looked at my reflection. I didn't look completely like myself, but for the first time in a long time... I felt... Beautiful.

At 7, I left the comfortable confines of my room to join everyone else in the common room. I felt my face turn dark red as the chatter from the boys suddenly stopped, all attention on me.

"Damn, Yamada, you look great." Kirishima spoke up first, a grin on his face.

"Great? Try goregous!" Sero spoke up. All the boys except for Bakugo, Midoriya, Todoroki and Kamin... I mean Denki, started arguing about what word was best to describe me. I snuck a look at Denki. That teasing bastard was wearing black dress pants with really nice black shoes and a tucked in, white button up shirt with the top two buttons undone. He just had to dress like that for tonight... I exchanged glances with Denki, and I swear, there was a shit-eating grin on Kaminari's face as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Man, if I'd known you'd get all cleaned up this good for me, I would have asked you out weeks ago." Denki told me as he looked down at me.

"Blame the girls, they wouldn't let me out of my room until I accepted their wish to do a full on makeover." I blushed darker. "You cleaned up really nice too, by the way." He grinned down at me before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Only for my baby... Besides, girls should know you didn't need to put on makeup and style your hair just to impress me, princess. You're beautiful to me no matter what you look like." He whispered in my ear before softly kissing the tip of my nose. I hid my dark red face in his chest as Kaminari spoke up over the guys, cutting off their arguement. "It's all very flattering, but the best word to describe her is simple: Angelic." I could practically feel the cheesy smile he was shooting at me in that second. I looked up at him and opened my mouth to respond, but the girls had joined us just then.

When we got there, Dad was blasting music left and right, doing his DJ thing as always. I laughed a bit as I saw him living up. I had to admit, the decoration committee did an awesome job at turning the big old gym into a dancefloor. I felt Kaminari kiss my cheek and I turned toward him. "Go ahead and say hi to your Dad, I'll grab us some punch." He told me. I smiled and nodded before pulling him down into a quick kiss... Which he turned into 3 sweet little pecks. I giggled and he winked before leaving my side. As I made my way toward the DJ booth, Jirou caught me.

"Y'know, we all knew he had a crush on you. As soon as you guys started doing dance lessons, he suddenly stopped flirting with all the girls and started keeping Mineta in line." She told me.

"Seriously?" I asked. She nodded.

"Yeah, Mina and I knew it was a matter of time before he asked you out. We just weren't expecting it to happen yesterday." She told me. I smiled. "I really am happy for you guys. You especially look extremely happy."

"I haven't smiled like this in a long time, Jirou." I told her honestly. She smiled and we exchanged a hug before I continued walking toward my Dad. He grinned when he saw me and exited the DJ booth for a second to give me a hug.

"You look beautiful, baby bird." Dad told me, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. I smiled up at him.

"Thanks, Dad." I told him.

"You nervous for the dance?"

"A little. But, I've been practicing for the past two weeks, so I think I'll be okay."

"Who is your partner anyway? Everytime I was about to find out, I got pulled away."

"You'll see, Dad." I winked at him before leaving to rejoin Denki. Instead, I ran into the only person who could ruin the night for me.....

"Wow, Y/N, you never dressed like this for me." Monoma crooned at me.

"I never felt comfortable until now, please excuse me." I said as I started to walk away. My heart came to a slamming hault in my chest as Monoma grabbed my wrist, stopping me from going anywhere. "M-Monoma, let me go!" I told him, feeling a panic attack coming on. My anxiety was shooting through the roof....

"You're not going anywhere with him." Monoma hissed at me. "You're mine."

"Not anymore." I yanked my wrist out of his grip, gingerly holding it. "Denki cares about me way more than you ever could care. You don't care about anyone but yourself, and I'd take back dating you if I could." I told him, trying to calm myself down. He growled, roughly grabbing my arm and pushing me into a corner. My breathing got so short, I couldn't breathe.

"Wrong move." He snarled at me. Right before he could touch me, he yelped, a spark of electricity zapping through him. Behind him was Denki, his quirk crackling in his right hand, and boy did he looked pissed.

"Denki." A breath of relief left me as I scampered behind him, feeling his right hand hold mine as Monoma growled angrily, getting back up.

"Nobody puts my baby in a corner." Denki snarled, aiming a bolt of his quirk at the ground near Monoma's feet. That blue eyed, selfish blond screamed like a girl and ran for it, his classmates laughing at him while Kendo scolded him. As soon as Monoma was gone, Denki deactivated his quirk, turned around and wrapped his arms around me protectively. "You okay, babe?" He asked. I nodded.

"I am now." I told him before kissing his cheek. "Thanks for saving me." He grinned down at me and winked just as my Dad announced that it was time to dance. He let go of me and offered his arm.

"Shall we, milady?" He asked. I giggled and took his arm.

"Do you even have to ask?" I questioned in counter. He chuckled before leading me to the dancefloor. Once of the floor, we took our starting positions before the beat of the song started. (A/N: Start listening to Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen for this part ^.^).

As soon as the beat started, we started to move, our eyes never leaving each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see all of Class 1-A gathered around us, watching us as we danced. "Everyone's watching us." I whispered to him.

"They don't matter right now. It's just you and me right now, baby." He whispered back with a grin. I giggled as I had fun, dancing with him. I knew, without a doubt, that my Dad was watching us, and I mentally cringed. Denki wasn't exactly popular with the teachers in a good way..... My thoughts distracted me enough to make me trip over my own feet after the second verse. Thank God for Denki, because he caught me and made it look like he was dipping me, which caused our classmates to cheer. He winked. "Told you I'd catch you." He softly told me. I smiled and we continued to dance, Denki spinning me at certain points and the next dip he did being during the instrumental after the bridge after twirling me again.

We continued dancing until the music started to fade out, stopping in the middle and slowly bringing our conjoined hands down. A roar of applause thundered from the crowd and Denki pulled me into a hug. I did it.... I danced with my boyfriend without getting embarrased! I felt him tense a bit after a second and I turned to see my Dad giving Denki the "I'm watching you" look. I rolled my eyes and pulled Denki into a kiss, feeling him hold me tighter as we kissed.

This night couldn't have been more perfect.....

Epliouge ( A/N: Extra just for fun!)

A couple days after the dance, Monoma tried to corner me again, this time being stupid enough to do it while the BakuSquad was still around me. I heard a snarl leave my boyfriend, but I put my hand out, stopping him from doing anything as I glared at my ex as he fired off insult after insult at me. But, he really crossed the line, pissing me off in the process, when he insulted Denki. Finally having had enough, I slammed my locker shut and faced Monoma with the sharpest glare on my face. If looks could kill.... "Monoma, you are absolutely pathetic. You can say whatever you want about me, but insulting my boyfriend? It's about time you GET A LIFE!" I used my quirk on Monoma, letting out the loud energy I had contained for months on end thanks to him. He flew backwards and hit the wall while Sero, Kirishima, even Bakugo laughed their asses off. Denki smirked as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Told you: You're a badass." Denki told me.

"Come on, guys, let's get the hell out of here." I told my friends, walking out beside my boyfriend.

(A/N: Tada! ^.^ Hope you guys enjoyed!)

Taglist: @lxvely-mha @fakeanimefanntnt

[punkscowardschampions]

Drew & Ro

Drew: Hi, Ro 😊 Ro: Hello Drew: How are you? Ro: Fine thank you, are you okay? Drew: That's good, me too Ro: If you're looking for Meena, I haven't seen her today Drew: No, no, she's at the restaurant Drew: I just wanted to talk to you, is that okay? Ro: oh Ro: I'm sorry, of course Ro: what would you like to talk about? Drew: just what you're up to, what's going on with you lately Drew: the usual stuff Ro: I've been learning 'Gaspard de la Nuit' for an upcoming piano recital Ro: it has been likened to solving endless quadratic equations in one's head, so I've been kept fairly busy with it Drew: Wow, you're so smart Drew: it's very impressive Ro: not really, I just enjoy music and I needed a sufficiently challenging piece to perform Drew: Of course you are Drew: you're like the smartest girl in your year, right? Drew: with my sister Ro: I don't know about that, but I do work hard, as does your sister Drew: So, what are you doing once you've finished practicing? Ro: It's highly likely I'll need to do some yoga to unwind Drew: That's cool Drew: I like to work out too Ro: you should add some poses, it's really beneficial for so many reasons I won't outright preach at you about Drew: Tell me about it 🙂 Ro: Well, increased flexibility is obvious and well known, as is I'm sure, increased muscle strength and tone but it will also help prevent you getting injured during your other work outs and any other sports you enjoy doing, whilst improving your performance in those Ro: it will ensure you can maintain a balanced metabolism and aid weight loss too but I don't think you need to worry there Ro: those are the physical benefits anyway Drew: Wow, see, super smart Drew: Will you teach me sometime? Ro: I've only ever taught piano to children but I'm willing to try if you are Drew: I'm a good student Ro: What's your favourite subject? Drew: Economics, it's useful, one of the only classes that is Drew: how about you? Ro: if I was being forced to pick one, I'll follow your reasoning and choose Latin Drew: What's Latin good for? Ro: studying medicine Drew: Oh Drew: you're going to be a nurse, that's amazing Drew: caring too Ro: No, I'm going to be a doctor Drew: Even more amazing Ro: what do you want to be when you grow up? Drew: 😂 Am I not grown up yet? Ro: I don't know you well enough yet to answer that Drew: I'll be 17 in about a month Drew: you're 15, right? Ro: Yes, but it's less about age and more about experience, not to mention maturity happens later for boys in every sense of the word Drew: I've got plenty of experience, and maturity, I can assure you Ro: it's okay, you don't need to assure me of anything, I started doing yoga when I was really young, I'll still teach you Drew: Ali does it all the time too Ro: she does Ro: she has a much stronger core than I do Drew: but you're flexible Ro: Ali's very flexible too Drew: Yeah Drew: do you wanna go out sometime, like? Ro: excuse me? Drew: Why not? Ro: because it feels like you're playing a joke on me or something Drew: I wouldn't do that Drew: if you don't want to, I understand Ro: I just don't understand why you want to Drew: Because you're smart and pretty Ro: you're almost 17 and this is the first conversation you've ever had with me Drew: You're quiet Drew: I didn't wanna scare you Ro: honestly, your chosen timing is the only thing putting me on edge Drew: What's wrong with my timing? Ro: how it corresponds with what's going on between Ali and Caleb Drew: It's nothing to do with them Ro: I'm just saying, I'm not willing to be her stand in for the next 9 months, and if that's why you asked me, please don't do so again Drew: I've never even been out with Ali Ro: okay Drew: Well I'm sorry if my asking made you feel uncomfortable Ro: It's fine, you aren't the first boy to make me feel uncomfortable Drew: I didn't mean to, I just wanted to get to know you better Ro: how did you intend to do that? Drew: By going out, talking some more Ro: of course, but I'd like to know where Drew: where would you like to go? Ro: I'd like you to take the lead, as you asked me Drew: I can do that Drew: [time to ask Meena about nerdy shit going on/places 'cos that's all he needs to do] Drew: would you prefer [a a more traditional date moment] or [b something more casual but her] Ro: which one would you prefer, it's your night too Drew: I'd like to take you to [a] Ro: I'd like to go there Drew: How does Friday night work for you? Ro: what time? Drew: 6? Ro: Can you make it 7? Drew: Sure Drew: but I will have to leave at 10 at the latest Drew: I do the dishes when the restaurant is done for the night so Ro: that's okay I have to get up early, there aren't enough hours in the day for everything I need to do otherwise Drew: 👍 Drew: That works for me too Ro: I'm sorry for questioning your intentions, it's only that I come second to Ali very often in a lot of things Drew: That's not how I see you at all Drew: but it's fine, I wasn't offended Ro: I'm glad, I don't wish to offend you Drew: I'll let you know if you do, but it seems unlikely Ro: because I'm 'quiet' or because you aren't easily offended? Drew: that just doesn't seem like the sort of person you are Ro: there's a hopefulness within that statement which I would hate to discourage Drew: I'd like to get to know the real you, whoever that may be Ro: I've just realised I know nothing about you yet either Drew: It's a chance for us both Drew: assuming you're equally as interested Ro: I'm not uninterested, I was initially wary, that's all Drew: Not holding that against you Ro: I understand if you chose to and it, in turn, causes you to be wary of me Ro: that would be a fate deserved Drew: Of course not Drew: just shows you're sensible Ro: like I said earlier, you're not the first boy to make me feel uncomfortable and had this been a joke of some kind, that wouldn't be a first either Drew: I understand Ro: you're clearly different Ro: unless you're planning to balance a bucket of pig's blood over the door when I walk through Drew: oh, that's that film with the girl from kick ass in Ro: it was a book before that, as well as an older film Drew: oh, cool Drew: but yeah, no pig's blood, I promise Ro: I promise no human blood Drew: 😂 well that's good Drew: thanks Ro: you're welcome Drew: Sorry to be abrupt, but Meena needs me to walk her to her class so I've got to go for now Ro: It's fine, there's no need to inconvenience Meena for my sake Ro: and anyway, it would a lie to pretend as if I'm a stranger to abruptness or a French exit myself so Ro: you obviously take your responsibilities seriously, which means your maturity claims can't be entirely unfounded Drew: She is the most important person in my life Drew: to try and claim anything else would always be a lie 🙂 Ro: I prefer the truth Drew: then that suits me too Ro: farewell for now, Drew Drew: 👋

[cliquestitsandicks]

Tracking Kat

Episode 1: Kat is mourning the end of her relationship with Adena. It has been 5 weeks since the breakup in Paris. She's still looking at old pictures of them and posted one. She still hasn't sent Adena's equipment to her, even though Adena has been texting her asking for it. By the end of the episode, she's admitted to (in order) Alex, Patrick, and Jane & Sutton that she is not okay. She is still sad about the end of her relationship. Alex tells her "you're so hard on yourself. You got your heart broken. There's no expiration date on heartbreak. You move on when you're ready to move on and when you *are* ready, you will find someone amazing. Someone who will never leave." Then Patrick is an entitled, invasive dick. She told her girls she wasn't ready for it to be real yet and that's why she hadn't told them... but she broke down in front of them. She'd finally accepted it was over. End of the episode, she makes an instagram post exposing her vulnerability to the world and packs up Adena's things for good.

Episode 2: Kat injects Jane for fertility treatment. She is very familiar with Jane's reproductive system at this point - best friends. She learns the Wild Susan, a club Adena took her to that became a safe space she frequents and which happens to be 1 of only TWO lesbian bars in the city, is closing. She learns the only reason it's happening is because developers want to gentrify the neighborhood. We learn Kat has a lawyer (not sure how that may come up later) that she met through the #BeReal campaign. Anyway, Kat throws a queer prom as a fundraiser to help save the Wild Susan. It ultimately fails because $42,000 in one night from poor people is a bit much. But it was a valiant effort and, as Kat learns, the gentrifiers were well aware of its impossibility. This episode is leading up to her political career. "I've been so into my feelings lately, it feels really good to challenge my energy into something that really matters". I am so proud of Kat. In Season 1, I would have worried she was avoiding her feelings, but the writers made a big deal of showing she's done the exact opposite of that in the prior episode.

Episode 3: Kat has been researching councilman Reynolds and he's a total piece of shit - helping gentrifiers, cutting funding to parks, and voting against paid maternity leave. She's fired up. Our girl is P A S S I O N A T E & informed! We meet the councilwoman for whom she plans to volunteer and her campaign manager, Tia. Tia's a tiny, bubbly boss with natural hair and a bright smile and we see Kat brighten up. We later learn she and Kat have more in common, both being NYU grads (actually overlapping while there) and both brilliant. Tia, however, is not from a wealthy and connected background. In their initial meeting, Kat tells Tia "I'm just looking for something to channel my rage and depression". Kat enlists her besties to help get the councilwoman to unseat problematic Reynolds. Sutton clearly sees something between Kat and Tia because she does a friend's background check (checking the social media) and tells Kat she looks very single to which Kat responds "it really doesn't matter because I'm still getting over Adena" and Jane seems skeptical of Kat's protestations with her silent smirk. We learn Kat has really soft lips. Kat is the voice of reason for Alex, being the first one to acknowledge the hypersexual "dangerous" Black man depiction that will likely be projected onto him if he admits he is the man in his friend's story. Then we see her naturally command the crowd at the rally. Again, I am so proud of Kat. She isn't holding back when she knows she should speak up. She's taking control of her narrative. She's fighting for what's right in a constructive manner. And now Tia, who has way more experience with this than Kat, is recommending she run for office.

Episode 4: We start the episode with Kat describing what would be her district and job description to her best friends. She's looking excited about the potential to do something that matters and really help people. In her conversation with the Toby (?. don't know, don't care), we get to see more of Tia being supportive of Kat and Kat being confronted with whether she's motivated to actually run or just wants someone to beat Reynolds. We learn Kat had an abortion in 2013 when she was 20 AS IS HER GOTDAMN RIGHT BECAUSE IT'S HER BODY, but it's something she's felt some sort of shame/concern over seeing as nobody close to her knew about it. Then, and this is so great, after telling her friends she has the conversation with Tia. Tia shares that she's had one as well and completely understands not wanting it to be public knowledge, but in sharing her experience educates Kat on yet another way vulnerable people are having their rights stripped, this time through manipulation and "crisis centers" that shouldn't exist. Tia remains supportive and doesn't pressure Kat at all with her decision. "I am by your side if they come for you, but you gotta do what's right for you". When we get that great speech from Jacqueline we see Kat being moved my the statement that you'll never know what you're capable of if you don't take a leap faith to face challenges that frighten you, then you'll never know what you're capable of. [i'd like to pause right now to say Jacqueline is fucking wonderful and i love her like my white auntie. also Sutton needed to hear that again just as much as Kat and i really appreciate this entire moment.] When Kat leaves Jacqueline's celebration, she passes by one of those "crisis centers" Tia told her about and decides to use her voice to help others. "I like to think of myself as a pretty strong, empowered, forward-thinking, open-minded woman. But, up until now, I haven't been able to talk about my abortion. If me putting myself out there helps even one woman to feel less alone, less ashamed, and less guilty then it's worth it." And just like us, dear Tia is blown away. She actually exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding and biiiiiiiitch (!!!! excitedly). and then they're dancing! This is the episode, upon rewatch, when i recognize how often Tia touches Kat unnecessarily.

Episode 5: Kat's entire recap includes Tia, ending with Sutton saying "she seems to be very single". Her very first scene, Tia is complimenting her walking out of some campaigning event we later learn was a Town Hall. Can we just talk about Kat's blazer for a second? First of all, i want it. Second, how did they find something so perfectly her? It's colorful but still semi-professional, fun, but still about her business. Heart-eye inducing. ok. So the next time we see Kat, she and Tia (whose last name they finally mention as Clayton) are reviewing campaign platform and doing debate prep at Kat's apartment. Tia's complimenting Kat almost continuously at this point. Clearly she's impressed, borderline gushing. and Kat tries to brush it off. Tia's not letting her. And there's this moment when Tia forces herself to break eye contact with her (around 5:40 of the episode). The show tells us Kat still hasn't dated since Adena, but Sutton brings up the "stupid smile" she gets whenever Tia's mentioned. She's making better decisions than Patrick and her being compared to Patrick is lowkey happening a lot. I'm starting to wonder if they're setting up Kat taking over digital if she doesn't win the campaign. Ok, the song choice as they pan to Kat and Tia... "I never normally check my phone 10 times in a minute. I'm not the girl to be kept on hold 10 miles from the finish." Again, Tia is very touchy with Kat, never anything inappropriate of course, but the hand is always on the back or the arm. and their interaction is just.. lovely. I squeal. it's so cute. they're so comfortable. Kat invites Tia to the dinner BEFORE (i got the timing on that mixed up before) Tia says she's "a boring straight girl" [the test determined that was a LIE... nah, my good sis Tia is dealing with some internalized homophobia which is no joking matter, but we don't learn that until the next episode]. Apparently, Kat can cook now? So she just liked Adena's food better i guess? idk... anyway. I get why some of the things Tia said can be taken as flirting, but i still believe that you accept what someone says is their sexuality until they say otherwise. yes, that's even when they're saying things like "when i see what i want, i go for it" and "Annndd she can cook. it's hot" and looking at you like that. Kat telling Jane to apologize because he's her boss and she got suuuper disrespectful and would absolutely deserve getting fired makes me proud. She's the mature friend now. She's the one with a level head on her shoulders. Kat finally makes her feelings known to Tia, but this is after Tia has already stated she's straight. Tia reiterates that this is a professional relationship and apologizes for Kat getting the wrong idea. I'm reminded of when Alex Danvers told Maggie Sawyer she was into her and she was rejected... but in that example i was floored and heartbroken for Alex because ugh, i just didn't see that coming. With this, however, it felt like Tia was clear in her words even if it shocked the hell out of me what the words were. So i didn't feel heartbroken for Kat. I thought... tbh... she brought it on herself for refusing to respect Tia's "no", however soft it was. But the writers did let us know it wasn't over with the music selection... Kat looking at "You and Tia make a great team :)" as "I'll go to war for you" plays.

Episode 6: All the emails have been released and Kat has no worries at all about that because she's a professional. And we get to see her be a boss addressing the entire group. Patrick isn't there this episode (YAY for our sanity!) and i think Kat being a boss so often when Patrick isn't around is intentional. When we see Tia, she says last night is forgotten but she thinks it's a bad idea to remain Kat's campaign manager... which is clearly a hard rejection. One can argue that it's too harsh for someone merely admitting they were into you. But it's just as easy to argue that it's appropriate after telling someone, very clearly, that you are not into them romantically and them ignoring that and saying that you were flirting with them on this date they never called a date before you were already there?? so i'm not mad at it. At the end of the episode, we find out that Tia was rejecting herself, not Kat. Turns out, Ms. Tia Clayton has known she's attracted to women since she was in high school, but she "didn't want to want it". Tia is so TINY AND ANXIOUS ABOUT HER SEXUALITY AND MANY OF US HAVE BEEN THERE. But... and i say this in jest... for someone who is really trying not to be out in the open with her gay, she sure was comfortable kissing Kat all outdoors for anyone to see. My good sis is smitten. I'm excited for the story. Again with the music during their scenes though... "I cannot fallll in love with youuuuu. I cannot feeeeel this way so soon, so soon." Also, my girlfriend and I have watched the gifset of the kiss over the phone and swooned (we live in different states for now). This episode, we also got the flashbacks (i missed Lauren so much). Kat's got red streaks in her hair, is a friend to strangers, has regrettable sex with men who taste like pickles, and is cute as a button. She also called Jacqueline "Mama Jackie" and that's it; that's her name now.

#the bold type season 3 #the bold type #katia #kat edison #tia clayton #TBT S3 SPOILERS #i rewatched the whole season today

[lovemecharlie]

Three Months In.

This takes place after Good Luck, Charlie. We're plugging in the holes and continuing this story line, giving you the aftermath.

The news spread like wildfire. Charlie was pregnant and now everyone in the house knew although Charlie didn't look much bigger than usual. What they didn't know, was how far long and by who.

"She can do a paternity test while you're still pregnant and we could figure all of this out together as a unit," Hennessy reasoned in favor of Charlie seeing the family physician. Charlie heard every word, but Erik's threat was louder in her ear.

“I won’t kill that nigga. Simply because if it is his baby I wouldn’t forgive myself if the kid grew up without a father. I know that hurt. If it’s mine he’s dying though.”

Those were Erik's exact words when he'd shown up at her job to bring her back. He'd accepted the possibility of the child not being his and the possible involvement of another father figure in the household, although Charlie wouldn't disrespect him like that by bringing another nigga in there on principle. However, his murderous threat was very real and Charlie worried that if the baby was his, he'd kill Trevante.

Trevante had done nothing wrong. He was a good and patient distraction during a rough point in her life. Erik should be thanking him if anything for keeping her company and laughing with her after he'd broken her heart. In Charlie's mind, Erik could blame himself.. not Trevante. She'd told him as much. He didn't want to hear it, but he listened. Since Charlie had been back, Erik's ear was open and focused on her vocal chords whether he liked what she had to say or not. Every word she spoke or even mumbled under her breath, he heard. He stayed so close to her, she started to wonder if he could read her thoughts.

"What you thinking about, Cha?" She'd felt him staring at her and now his hand landed gently on her shoulder as she sprinkled cheese on her homemade pizza crust. This was him being attentive.

If you touch Trevante, N'Jadaka, I swear on this marriage and your left testicle... Don't. Do not.

"I'm just thinking.. about this pizza," she said flippantly with no expression, but his digging eyes knew different.

"Communication is our issue, Charlie. You know every fucking thing about me. I know every fucking thing about you. Yet somehow, I can't get into this one part of your mind, it's like you got it locked away and that's that unpredictable part that will misunderstand me one day and up and leave. You won't say shit, you'll just disappear one day and then I'm a be wondering what I did wrong for the next ten years."

"Sounds familiar. I feel like I'm stepping over landmines emotionally with you sometimes, like I gotta reign myself in. I'm a heavy lover, Erik. Still waters run deep. You don't always feel me and that's what I need. I crave it like I crave sweets on my period or like you crave pussy."

"I can be that for you, you just gotta be patient with me and talk to me like you doing now. I'll get it down.. just like you need it, just work with me and don't give up." His arms wrapped around her from behind.

"I wouldn't have come back if I planned to give up. I plan to make this marriage work and communicate with you the way I've learned that I need to, so you gotta be patient with me too."

"I'm patient," he nodded with a kiss on her neck. "How's the baby?" He rubbed her stomach in her simple olive green dress and she nodded. He hadn't told her to get tested, but she wasn't dumb, she knew him like she knew herself and he wanted to know badly if he was the father. She could see the question written on his forehead, he was that transparent. She wouldn't even see a physician because then they'd know exactly how far along she was and Erik would find out the truth based on the dates, she was convinced he would.

She already knew who the father was without a doubt. Trevante knew who the father was too, she didn't have to tell him.

She walked over to the refrigerator. "I'm gonna bake this pizza from scratch since I'm back in this obscenely large mansion and it has a pizza oven. What toppings do you want this time?"

"Pepperoni. Your titties bigger..." Charlie kept her eyes on the food unsure of where he'd lead the conversation. He'd been trying to fuck since she got back, but she was scared he'd hit it a bit too well.. make her confess her secrets and her sins. "..I didn't think that was possible," he added and she knew he was still staring. "You thickening up all over. You know it's hard for Daddy too keep his hands to himself when you this thick."

"I've just been eating," Charlie deadpanned. Erik's quick gust of silent laughter made her look up. He was leaning on the counter, smiling and it made her pause her actions and smile back. She sighed, her shoulders finally relaxing. "I did miss you, N'Jadaka." She genuinely meant it. As hurt as she was, she'd always loved him and that could never change. "..In all your stupid lil moments," she snickered turning quickly to wait on his comeback to fire.

"Mine?! What about you, Ms. Troublemaker," he yelled playfully, watching her shove the pizza into the oven.

"I have no idea what you're referring to." Her stubborn eyes gave nothing away while his twinkled with humor and she was warmed to know that no matter what they went through in their relationship, they could bounce back and still have fun just like this.

As long as he didn't kill Tre.

---

"Girl, you're pregnant now. You can't be eating all this junk and empty calories. You're eating for two and some things you just don't need to eat," Hennessy admonished taking Charlie's pint of Rocky Road and replacing it with a big bowl of spinach and tomato salad.

"Don't nobody want no twigs and berries," Charlie grimaced, ultimately caving and accepting the healthier option. She was just hungry.. and all the time. Hennessy had the kitchen staff restock the fridge with healthier choices removing all of the snacks to make things easier. With two pregnant women in the house, one six months along and battling with her health, they needed all the nutrients they could gather.

"I wish we could sneak in and talk to Angel," Charlie said wistfully staring at the salad on her fork. "But Erik has her under lock and key like a prisoner, afraid that anything will be too much. I mean, the girl is physically fragile right now, yes, but she's not fragile fragile. I just wanna see her.. Lay eyes. I've only seen her like once since I've been back and that was when we gave her her gifts."

"You know how stubborn that man is. Once he gets it in his mind that he's right, no one can change his mind."

"She's probably lonely... and what about the nursery? Can't we finish it?"

"No, he's contacting Kristina Rhodes, the interior designer she loves. She'll be okay, it'll be a good surprise for her."

"Yeah, that's true," Charlie agreed stuffing her mouth with more salad as she stood with the bowl. "Someone still needs to pluck that wild hair up Erik's ass though. If Angel weren't going through hell with her pregnancy, she would set him straight."

"Sounds like a mission for King Jade," Hennessy stared. Charlie thought about it. She might be okay to go if she remained in control. He wouldn't get her in his clutches.

"You know, a month ago I'd have been too tired and nauseous, but I've been feeling pretty good lately," Charlie stretched. "You might be right. It has been a while afterall.. I just have to make sure I pee first. I haven't been able to stop."

"That's normal because neither could Angel, but you should still get your check-ups. Even if you don't do the paternity test, we don't need a repeat of this drama or Erik acting any crazier than he already is because if he snaps, I'm scared we'll all be locked in this house and I'll have to hurt him."

"Pfft," Charlie grinned, "I'd poof with Poosy and get medical care elsewhere. After witnessing this bearded nut in action, I refuse."

---

Charlie stared at the Mischief Managed mug sitting on her desk full of honey and ginger tea. She pinched the bridge of her nose, stressed as Trevante kept insisting and insisting the same thing over and over.

"I don't care, Tre... No," she shrugged. "No, I'm not telling him... Oh well!... Not yet," she reiterated. Trevante kept pushing her to tell Erik and the rest of the kompound the truth and to see a physician to check on her and the baby's health, but Erik's threat was still fresh to her and echoing in her head.

"Stop fuckin worrying about me, Charlie, I'm good. I keep telling you, I'm a grown man and I can handle myself. That baby has a father and you know who it is. Don't make him worry too long... It's his baby too and if I were him I'd wanna know."

Always so level headed. Trevante was a gem and she'd forever be grateful for him. She smirked, picking up her mug. "So, was the pussy worth this drama?" She sipped her tea, imagining his face from her blunt question.

"..Uhhhhhhh..," he paused and she gasped, smiling at the phone. "I'm kidding, hell yeah it was worth it. I wanted you before you knew who I was... but I respect your relationship. As long as you're happy."

As long as you're happy.

"I am," Charlie smiled. There weren't many people, men especially, that she trusted.. and not many people, men especially, would genuinely be happy for a person in Charlie's situation. She was very aware of that fact and she respected him more than she could ever verbally express.

---

"I've been keeping this big secret because I've been afraid of the fallout, but I don't know. I don't know if I should tell the truth. What do you think, Lady Tigra?" Charlie sat with her legs folded staring at the clouds moving slowly across the sky as the large Bengal and Siberian mixed tiger splashed up from her pond wetting Charlie's loose grey t-shirt and black leggings. She laughed. She wasn't soaked, it was just a splash.

"Should I do it," Charlie asked as the large feline emerged, circling her to sit beside her before laying down. Charlie rubbed her back, the wet thick hairs a comfort. "You know, they say if you have heartburn it's because your kid has a lot of hair. I wonder if Mini Charlie will be as hairy as us.. That reminds me.. we need a name for this new bundle of joy. I'm thinking Czar if it's a boy.. or D'artagnan, something interesting. Atreyu..."

"And if she's a girl?" Erik's voice came smoothly from behind causing Charlie to look back. She wondered how much he'd heard.

"I'm not sure, I thought of Monaco," she murmured, looking up at him. He sat on her other side, watching the same sky in thoughtful silence.

"I've been thinking Jada.. pretty like her mom."

Charlie smiled, watching him from the corner of her eye. It was a peaceful scene that she wished she could stay in forever.. that moment, wedged between Erik and Tigra, her protectors.. the sun high and the clouds clear.. wind blowing a gentle breeze. She decided it was now or never.

"I like N'Jada.. It has a little bit of both her parents."

There it was. She'd dropped the bomb waiting for it to register.

Erik's eyes widened as he turned to her, his breathing suddenly faster. He searched her eyes intensely grabbing her face and waiting for her to take it back, flinging himself at her when she smiled. She fell on Tigra and rolled trying to crawl as Tigra looked on, Erik's embrace tight and his lips covering her in a barrage of excited kisses. "OKAY," Charlie yelled through tears of laughter. "Tell me you forreal. How you know," Erik rushed not letting her up.

"Condoms, Erik! Lots of condoms. You really thought I'd let some guy nut in me? I barely let you nut in me!.. Now that you know the truth, you better not bother Trevante, let's just both leave him alone."

"Girl ain't nobody thinking bout that nigga, this my kid!" He stood helping her to her feet before grabbing her up in another tight embrace that threatened to break her in half. It was the best news he'd gotten in a while. A long while. Hoisting her up into his arms, he jogged back to the house with her clinging to his torso, her legs around his waist. He burst through the door like the police, causing a ruckus as he yelled to anyone in the house who could hear.

"IT'S MY BABY!! Y'ALL!! IT'S MY MUHFUCKIN BABY!! MY WIFE, MY SEED!!"

He held Charlie to his body preventing her from jumping down as he continued his loud decree.

"What the hell is wrong with you," Davita came running with Kimora close behind.

"It's my baby," he repeated, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Did she get the paternity test?"

"No need, my condom game strong," Charlie sighed. "Plus, I did the math after my last period and this pitbull here was definitely in these guts. It was before I left."

"You didn't think you should say anything before.." Davita wasn't sold.

"I'm just glad it's Erik's," Kimora shrugged with a smirk.

Josephine poofed into the room in a black bra and high-waisted thong, her mouth covered in a black half-mask. "Hrrerrer," she removed the mask that blocked her speech, "What's happening down here?"

Erik finally set Charlie down wrapping his arms around her to show off her stomach. "It's my baby, I'm the father."

"YESSSS," she cheered getting as hype as he was, hugging him. He almost squeezed the life from her too. Charlie noticed Josie's eyes bulge in shock. "O-Okay, calm down!"

He chuckled separating himself and taking off toward the stairs, no doubt to locate and tell everyone else in the house the news as Charlie sighed in relief, a large weight off her shoulders.

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @trevantesbrat

#the kompound #fics #charlie #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik stevens

[texasthegreatdestroyer]

One Heart, Two Souls.

Chapter 1, Part 2.

“You knew my husband, didn't you?”

“Yes, we were good friends.”

“So you too know my sadness, how much I miss him so?

“...Yes.”

The silence was brief between us. I was so sick of it, who would've thought it would have been a good thing if it continued on? Her hands started shaking. I thought she might be crying, but she looked to me, there were no tears upon her. I was wrong, it was the exact opposite. She giggled before she spoke. No wife currently grieving over a dead spouse giggles.

“You've seen me naked, haven't you?”

She moved closer to me and put her hand on me in a romantic gesture.

“What was your name, sir?”

“A-Auron.”

I was extremely flustered by her advances on me.

“Tell me Auron, did you like what you saw?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I'm grieving, you're grieving, it wouldn't be wrong if we sought comfort from each

other.”

She leaned in to kiss me, but I pulled away.

“I'm sorry, but I can't! You're Jecht's wife dammit! I can't do that to him!”

It was clear she was desperate to fill the void in her heart where her husband's love should be. She moved herself into my lap.

“Please? You're my only salvation. Only you can save me from myself. Misery enjoys company, you know? Besides, I'll make it worth your while. I'll suck your-”

That was it, I didn't even hesitate to get up. Unfortunately, I said something I shouldn't have out of discomfort

How many men have you said that to!-”

I wanted to end the sentence with, “Whore”, but I didn't get a chance to, as I fell backwards. I had slipped on something and hit my head against the wall. My head was bleeding.

Lucky for me though, seeing that, she discarded the comment. She tried to help me, but she was too weak.

I eventually got up on my own. She looked at me real solemnly.

“I'm really sorry.”

Her voice was small and shaky. I played it nice, looked up at her and gave her a hint of a smile. I was preparing to leave as I was probably unwanted at this point.

“I should be going, but I’ll be back in the morning to discuss Jecht's will with you… you should probably get some rest.”

“Yes, thank you for your help today.”

I nodded my head at her.

“You have a good night ma’am.”

“You too.”

I was getting prepared to leave, when I saw Tidus sitting by the door, reading his book.

I bent down and put out my hand to shake it.

“I'm Auron by the way, nice to meet you Tidus.”

The boy looked up at me with discontent, then went back to reading his book.

“Good night.” I had said before walking out the door. He said nothing back. With a quick sigh, I walked out being confident that my place there was finalized. Unwelcome I was. Not like I really was wanted from the start.

I walked all through Zanarkand a good part of the night. I didn't really have anywhere to go. Besides, I had a lot on my mind. I was disgusted with myself. I led Jecht's wife on. It wasn't intentional, but it did happen. Why erupts she do that to him? How could she. It was pretty close to morning when I found a spot in an alleyway to crash out in.

I wanted to sleep, but something about sleeping pin the streets in a busy city was not appealing to me, so I wasn't able to sleep. Lucky for me though, Morning came quickly, and I needed to leave early anyways. I was on the other side of town.

It didn't really help my cause any thinking about the events that played out last night. All I could really do was put it the back of my mind and be there to be professional. Talk business. Nothing more.

I knocked on the door. Tidus answered the door. When I came in, I sat down on the nearest couch.

“Where's your mother?”

“She's asleep. She left very late last night and didn't get back until early in the

morning.”

“When did she leave last night?”

“She left at three a.m. and didn't get back until five. She woke me up to lock the door.”

What was she thinking?

“So, what are you and my mom going to talk about?

“Your father's will.”

“What is a will? The old lady next to us tells mom often of how the other people next door are trying to get on my mom's good side, so they can claim me, get the will, and keep it for themselves.”

Tsk. Vultures.

“I don't like them though, they're mean to me.”

“Don't worry, if things play out right, they won't be a problem, just wait and see.”

“But, what is a will?”

“A will is usually a lump sum of cash you receive when someone dies, that is if you are put on the will. The money is what is left behind in savings that belonged to the deceased. A will could be anything, money, belongings, or sometimes a demand. A demand happens to be your father's case.”

A sad look appeared on his face.

“Why does everyone think mom is going to die?”

“She seems… very sick.”

“Yeah, but she's fine! She's has to be! Sick people eventually get better! She has to as well, right?”

“Yes, but that's not always the case, some people don't get better at all.”

“She's not some people! Mommy will get better, I know she will!”

The boy's face gleamed with an innocent smile at the idea of his confidence. He's just a little angel. At that moment, I didn't just want to guard his life, I wanted to guard his heart.

The conversation was through, when a woman's voice cut into it.

“Tidus!”

I looked to find his mother standing in the entrance of the hallway.

She scowled at him, he reacted by cowering. The poor boy looked like a dough that had just been beaten. My heart melted instantly for him. What did the poor kid do this time? I wondered. She spoke again and in a scolding manner.

“Why didn't you wake me up when he got here?”

“You were sleepy last night mommy, so I didn't want to wake you up.”

“What did I tell you?”

“I'm sorry.”

“We have important things to discuss! I told you to waffle me up when he got here!”

She looked over to me worth a more welcoming stare than her poor son. I looked over to him. He had picked up a book and started reading. With a gesture from his mother, I followed her back to her room.

She had a bunch of papers cluttered on one desk. Out was an old thing and looked Just as fragile as her. The legs looked like they were about to snap under the weight of the desktop if you poked it too hard. A fragile desk for a fragile woman.

“Sorry. I know my room is a mess. You had me really thinking last night, so I made a trip to mine and Tidus’s social worker downtown at three. I didn't make it back till five in three morning. Let me tell you, people don't joke weekend they say,

“Zanarkand never sleeps.” I was surprised to find the office still open and or social worker filling out papers.”

“I heard. You left your son alone?”

“I told him to lock the door, it wasn't the first time I left him alone. Don't worry.”

“I am going to worry because it's dangerous to leave your seven-year old child at home, by himself, at three o'clock in the morning, for two hours! Should I go into the many scenarios of which things could have gone terribly wrong!?

I couldn't help myself. I heads to yell. She was vetoing entirely reckless with her child, not realizing how delicate bee actually was.

“I'm glad you care so deeply for my son as you do.”

“Can we talk about this later? We need to discuss your husband's will.”

“I need you to take custody of my son when my time here is up.”

“Wha-”

“I know this is sudden, I believe you knew my husband well, and you Monday be the only person I can trust. You get my will and this house. Everything you need to take care of him is provided. The only other person I can trust with this task is an old and disabled woman and can't take care of him, and the other people next door only want the money. They will put Tidus in foster care the first chance they get. I know you think I'm a horrible mother, but you have to believe me when I say I really do love my son. I don't want him in the hands of people who don't care about him. You will though, I can tell. You're already attached. So will you take him?”

“... I will take him, that is Jecht's will and I'll fulfill it.”

“Thank you… We should get started, these papers aren't going to fill themselves out.”

We went straight to it. Thirty minutes in, and she began to doze off.

I tried to get her to lay down for a bit, but she refused.

“Really, if you're tired, you should try to sleep.”

“No. These papers need to be finished.”

“We're halfway through, there's no harm in taking a break.”

“But if I lay down, there's no guarantee I'll wake back up either.”

She had a point, in order to become Tidus’s guardian, I had no choice but to fill these papers out.

Some odd minutes past by, and we had finished filling out everything. I was finally able to get Tidus’s mother back to bed. I felt no reason to stay, so I grabbed my sword and started heading towards the door. When I was walking by the kitchen, something caught my eye.

Tidus was trying to reach a box of crackers sitting on the counter, he wasn't quite tall enough to reach them, but he kept trying. It had occurred to me that he hasn't eaten all this time. I searched the cupboards for a plate until I eventually found one. I took the crackers and put them on a plate for him, then rummaged through the freezer box to get the stuff to make him a sandwich.

I made him two sandwiches, one for now, and another for later in case his mom didn't wake up for the rest of the day, or to sick to make him anything. We sat together while he ate.

“Not too shabby” I'd ask.

“Nope!”

His answer was muffled, but his head movements showed approval. After he finished eating, I resumed my departure. I was heading to the door when he ran up behind me and put his arms around me.

“Thank You for the sandwich Auron! Bye!”

I was flustered, I wasn't used to embrace, so out seemed normal of me to react. When my face cleared up, I turned to him and smiled.

“You're welcome, kiddo. See you around.”

I walked out this door, but something was trying to pull me back. It was as if the whole house was going to blow up and be disintegrated with everyone in it if I didn't turn back around.

I left that night, but I felt I had made a big mistake, and at a critical moment too. When I learned of this mistake, I had never been so scared in my life.

#auron