#Carlos is pissing me off so I had to focus on something else for a sec

[faultyvessel]

I find it interesting that the university of what it is explained away Night Vale’s unreachable-ness because it could mean 1) the town is now completely blocked off and people can’t accidentally find it and the scientists inadvertently locked themselves inside it (and the only people who can get in are the people from Desert Bluffs 2 hmmmmmm) or 2) Even though the road doesn’t connect to anything entry is actually possible (and like, it shows up on maps and outside surveillance and shit) and more normal can start pouring in, and Lubelle has someone to explain the weirdness TO other than the Night Vale citizens who don’t want to hear it. And, I don’t think that bodes well for the current battle of “unexplainable versus normalcy” that’s waging.

I find both options intriguing, concerning, and Im not sure the U of What is Is Thought about repercussions of it.

[silvergrayandmauve]

How dare they give my “Kamilla blitzes Thawne when he has Cisco backed into a corner” fantasy to Allegra and Chester.

Of course, Kamilla was gonna use a gun. And shoot him in the head, ‘cause we’re applying the Heroes life hack of healing-powers-can’t-help-you-if-your-brain-can’t-work here. And Thawne was gonna be doing the hand thing again—you know, something that would actually have the audience tense, thinking maybe he was gonna kill Cisco for good this time, and paralleling the season 1 finale when he had Barry cornered until Eddie shot himself. Instead of being the dollar store recycle of “Thawne killing the tech nerd who lives to tell the tale and then discovers he has powers”.

The other option was Barry being the one who was cornered again and Cisco being the one to come to his rescue and end Thawne, which would’ve made more sense thematically speaking. It would give Barry his big final showdown with Thawne, just with the twist of Cisco getting the last word. But I still liked the idea of Kamilla doing it, because, in the perfect world where everyone important is present and everyone on Team Flash gets tasks in the final episode that actually make sense for their characters, she would be the only unexpected non-O.G. to take down a big bad because he’s hurt her man enough, and damn it, she’s pissed. She’s also not officially on Team Flash, so the no-kill rule doesn’t apply to her.

Neither version was gonna end with a happy kissing scene, it was gonna end with Cisco and Kamilla/Cisco and Barry taking a minute to catch their breath and take in what just happened, and realize that it’s finally over, and then they would probably hug (the Kamisco version would definitely end in a hug, but with Barry being the main character, his version might end with everyone else making it to where they are just after, or Cisco supporting him as he limps back to where the rest of the team is, and then Barry and Iris having an emotional reunion at the center of it, à la the Wenclair hug). Basically, it was gonna end in comfort, not in celebration (that could come afterward, at the big “once again the day is saved” party), because shit’s heavy and emotions are difficult, and this is the last episode and we need catharsis.

Thawne’s ending should have been big and satisfying, and Chester and Allegra just don’t have the history with Thawne to give that situation any weight and make it a worthwhile face-off. It’s just another overblown anticlimactic Ericverse barely-a-fight scene (feat. Cheap Death Fakeout). And with Carlos being unable to appear in the finale, they should’ve either made Barry fighting Thawne the main focus, or they should’ve left Thawne dead from their last showdown and just not bothered with him at all.

Just…give me the good old days when the villains got up close and personal and the heroes actually had some fear in their eyes, and needed a sec to recover afterwards.

[captastra]

Here’s a one shot I’ve been working on for Jill and Carlos in a roommate au. Thank you @cybilsbennett for the idea!! I hope you all enjoy :)

Jill sighed as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment. It had been a long day at the office and she was ready to finally relax and unwind. She knew she worked too much, Chris and Leon certainly never let her forget, but it was easy to get lost in the job. So she forced herself to enjoy the little things, a warm bath, a home cooked meal, the few nights she was able to get it. 

I wonder if Carlos is home, she thought as she walked down the hallway.

Music filled the hall as she opened the door. She recognized the song coming from the speakers in their apartment. He must be painting tonight, she thought. When they first became roommates, it wasn’t something that he had shared with her. But after he dragged her and her friends into one of his weekly game nights, he had brought his paint station out into the open and wound up taking a good chunk of their living room.

She didn’t mind that he was painting, in fact she admired the skill and dedication he put into the models. What was starting to get to her was that he had started acting all secretive about what he was painting a week or so ago. Every time she came home and went to say hi, he would quickly block her view from what he was working on. Initially she hadn’t thought much of it, but after the third day she had to ask.

He had brushed her off the first few times she had asked and Jill had told herself to drop it. If he didn’t want to tell her then it was none of her business. But the way he always smiled at her, that aggravatingly cute cheeky smile, that made her feel like it was special, something just for her, made it challenging to not be curious.

He didn’t call out to her as she stepped through the doorway. Haphazardly tossing her jacket and bag to the side, Jill was about to call out to him when an idea came to mind. He hadn’t noticed her entering the apartment so maybe this would finally be her chance to go see what he was so secretly working on.

She moved as softly as she could down the hall to the door that led to the living room. His desk wasn’t facing the door which made it easy for her to peek around the door frame.

Sure enough, Carlos sat hunched over as he focused on whatever model he was painting. His large frame made it difficult to see what specifically he was working on from where she stood. Even though she tried her best to hold on to “just roommates”, it was hard not to admire him, admire the way his muscles moved under his shirt as shifted slightly while painting. 

Jill shook her head. No time for those thoughts, she thought to herself. She was on a mission. Stepping as quietly as she could on the hardwood floors, Jill slowly made her way towards Carlos. The music helped in masking any noise she made and before long she was already halfway across the room. He hummed along to the song and bobbed his head slightly but his focus didn’t stray from whatever he was working on. None the wiser to what she was doing.

A loud creaking sound filled the silent room. Jill froze as she realized that the song had ended right as she had stepped on the floor.

Shit.

Carlos let out a small yelp in surprise as he turned to see Jill standing behind him. He scrambled up out of the chair, knocking over stuff in the process as he attempted to hide whatever he was working on. Jill cringed as she watched him fumble about and a wave of embarrassment came over her. The last thing she wanted was to screw up his work and make a mess. If only he didn’t have to be so secretive about what he was doing! Or give her that cute smile…

Now though? Jill glanced over at his desk and saw that sure enough, something had been spilled over. She could only assume it was paint and whispered silent prayers that it didn’t completely ruin what he was working on. He had to be pissed at her and rightfully so. 

Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone, Jill chided herself. Carlos had yet to say anything and at this point she expected nothing but the worst.

“Dammit Jill. You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

There it was. Jill closed her eyes and took a breath before speaking. “I’m so sorry Carlo—“

He let out a chuckle and she stopped talking, surprised. Jill kept silent as she watched him inspect the desk and shook his head. His usually fluffy hair was pinned back in the front to keep out of his eyes as he worked, but that didn’t stop him as he ran his free hand through his hair.

“Alright, it’s not as bad as it looks, just wash. Nothing that can't be cleaned up.” He sighed but still wore a small smile. Jill felt herself relax slightly, relieved that he wasn’t mad at her. She kept her expression flat though when he brought his eyes to hers. “What was so important to see that you had to sneak up on me like that?”

Jill brought her arm across her stomach as if to protect herself but didn’t break his stare. “I wanted to know what you were working on,” she shrugged, “figured I’d have a chance to see this oh so secret project. You’ve made it pretty clear it's for our game.” At this point honesty was better than trying to lie. She was more surprised he wasn’t pissed at her.

She watched as Carlos glanced over his shoulder. When he looked back at her, he wore a lopsided grin and started to make his way towards her, hand still behind his back. He looked down at her and Jill had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from making some quip.

He lifted the other hand that was free and booped her on the nose. “You’ll have to wait like everyone else.”

“I can’t help but be curious, Carlos.” She found herself pouting slightly when that made him smile wider. “And don’t smile at me like that. It's your fault you got me into your games. And I’m guessing whatever it is you are working on has something to do with that.” Jill motioned to whatever he was hiding behind his back but Carlos easily blocked her view.

“After the mess you already made you’re still trying to look?” He shook his head as he glanced back at the table and then back at her.

Jill absentmindedly scratched at her temple. “I could help clean up,” she motioned towards the desk,” if you want. I’m more worried about making it worse though.” 

“You probably would too.” He ignored Jill’s scoff and continued. “How about you go relax for a bit. Let me clean up and then we can get dinner started. You can make my favorite to make up for this.”

His gave her a sweet smile and Jill couldn’t help but cave under it. It was like he knew the power it had over her but she didn’t dwell on the thought. Carlos grabbed her shoulder and steered her towards the hallway.

“I thought you hated my cooking,” Jill asked as she let Carlos guide her. “You’ve mentioned it on multiple occasions. Practically banned me fro—“

“Some of your cooking,” he shrugged, “not all of it.” 

Jill stared at his face, searching for any meaning behind his words, but his face didn't betray any alternative emotion.

“I’m not happy about the mess Jill, but it's just wash. You are going to have to wait like everyone else in the group to see it and in the meantime you’ll make it up to me.”

“Ok, if you're sure…”

“I am. Now get outta here.” He shoved her playfully and Jill smiled at him before making her way to her room.

[telli1206]

The Heart Will Follow (Ch. 3)

Jay’s never had a crush...until he met Carlos. And now he can’t stay away.

Carlos doesn’t know what to make of Jay’s presence, yet. But what should he do, exactly, about a boy that’s both cute AND terrifying?

A collection of Jaylos isle meetings, inspired by this beautiful headcanon I came across randomly that I can’t get out of my head. 

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Forever In Your Mind

“So...he just...left?”

Carlos bites his lip and lets his gaze drop to his lap. He’ll look anywhere to avoid Evie’s concentrated stare right now. He can hear the concern in her voice, but it feels too new, too...unsettling, to have someone care about his safety. He’s just not used to that. At all.

“I wonder why...” he hears Evie mutter to herself, and he looks up to catch sight of her furrowed brow and lips pursed tightly in thought. When she glances up and sees Carlos watching her, her eyes immediately soften, and she places a hand over his, flashing a warm smile to try to reassure him.

“Jay is so weird sometimes,” she muses, shaking her head. “Who knows why he was out there. The important thing is, he left you alone. Right?”

“I guess,” Carlos agrees, heaving a sigh. He decides against telling Evie exactly why Jay said he had chosen to leave him alone. He couldn’t really explain what Jay had said, honestly. Why would he give a shit about how Carlos’ mom would react? And his...eyes? Yeah, he definitely didn’t need to upset Evie any further with more of Jay’s weird comments.

“I-I didn’t get the impression that he’d try to steal from me again,” he offers, and quirks a smile when Evie beams back at him. 

“Good! So let’s not waste another second then talking about that...that skeezy thief,” she huffs, and shifts her focus back to her open textbook. She flips through a few pages before noticing how Carlos has stilled, and is now sitting stiff and unmoving beside her. There’s a look of distress on his face, and his cheeks are blooming the brightest pink color. 

“Ok. Something else is wrong. What is it?” Evie demands, and Carlos squeaks quietly at the forcefulness in her tone. He’s biting his tongue, but Evie can see the way his eyes are continuously darting to the door and back.

“No! Carlos, tell me you don’t. You don’t need to...” She pinches her nose, sighing in frustration at the way Carlos shifts in his seat, his hands pressed firmly into his lap. “You didn’t go before class started??”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t have to! I swear. It...it just came up all of a sudden.”

Carlos can feel the guilt pooling in his gut already. He didn’t want to ignore all the help Evie had given him, all the advice that she had gathered to survive Dragon Hall.

Initially, Carlos had no regrets about the cup of coffee he drank this morning. More like the exact opposite - he was grateful. 

Cruella had thrown a full mug at his head as he was trying to leave for school, which wasn’t unusual. Even though she had agreed to let him attend classes in exchange for extra chores after school and on the weekends, his departure every morning was a painful reminder to her of the chores that wouldn’t get done until later, including her breakfast dishes.

What WAS unusual about this morning, however, was that Carlos had managed to catch the mug this time without barely a spill of the scalding tar black coffee that it contained. With his mother already stomping out of the room in a fit of angry rambles to no one but herself, Carlos had taken full advantage of the hot liquid, flooding his belly and providing some satiation and warmth against the chill of the morning air.

It wasn’t until now, when the drink had caught up to his system, did the heeding of Evie’s number one warning cause him a tinge of remorse.

“Y-you’re going to have to hold it Carlos!” Evie hissed, her voice shrill with fear. “I wasn’t lying when I said that leaving class ALONE is a suicide mission!”

Carlos tries his best to settle his squirming. He crosses his ankles tightly, keeping his hands pressed firmly down to help ignore the feeling building inside. But the pressure is just too intense to ignore. He looks up at Evie just as the tears start to well in his eyes.

“Shit, FINE,” she groans, smacking her hand to her forehead. “Listen to me, ok? If you’re going to do this, there’s only one way to go.”

-----

Carlos shuffles quickly down the hall, trying his best to be quiet. Evie’s directions were very specific, and he plans to follow them perfectly. The little pangs of regret he feels for upsetting his new friend, his only friend, are still fresh, and he has no intention of hurting her like that again. Not after all she’s done for Carlos already.

“Take a right - you’ll walk past three classrooms and a bathroom. Walk past the bathroom. Do NOT use that one, Carlos. Ok? Keep walking. Promise me you’ll keep walking.”

He squeezes his eyes closed and scoots past the bathroom as promised, despite his borderline painful need to go right now. He’s not going to make it much longer, and he starts looking around at all the isolated doorways, contemplating the option of relieving himself there if he can’t manage to find the very specific bathroom Evie told him he absolutely had to use.

Luckily, he spots it just a few feet away on the other side of the hallway, exactly where Evie said it would be. He breathes a short sigh of relief as he darts across and slips through the door.  

At first glance, the bathroom looks and sounds empty. But he knows better than to trust his senses completely. So Carlos takes a quick scan of each corner and stall to confirm that he is, indeed, alone before sliding into the last stall closest to the window and locking the door behind him.

Carlos completely forgets the world around him then, lost in the exhiliration of finally being able to relieve himself. He’s had to pee for so long he can’t even stop the happy groan that escapes his lips, the pressure inside immediately gone in that blissful moment. He’s so focused on that pleasant feeling that he almost...almost...doesn’t hear the soft creaking of the bathroom door opening.

It’s a slow sound, just barely audible, but he manages to catch it anyway, the years of constant need to remain alert and attentive now on his side. He  sucks in his breath and forces himself to stop his stream, wincing in pain at the involuntary pause. He hops onto the toilet seat ledge nimbly and balances there, remaning motionless, quiet, and with his ears piqued to listen.

The door closes with a soft scrape along the damaged linoleum floor, followed closely by the pad of slow, deliberate footsteps. They pause for a moment at each stall as they move along, clearly looking for something. Or someone.

When they make a stop in front of Carlos’ stall, his muscles tense uncomfortably to make himself be as still as possible. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently wishes for whoever’s on the other side to leave him alone.

But instead, the feet step closer to him, and he hears a dry chuckle.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Jay sing-songs. “I know you’re in there, De Vil.”

Evil, poor Evie’s going to hate him for this.

Carlos lets out a breath and drops to the ground with a loud stomp. No point in being quiet now is there?

“Fine, fine! You caught me, ok? Just, let me finish pissing and I’ll come out. I’m almost done.”

“Aw, I interrupted your pee pee break??” Jay teases. “Sorry, pup! By all means, continue.”

Carlos rolls his eyes as he turns back to the toilet. Word travels fast at this school, and his mother’s transgressions were the talk of Dragon Hall within a day of his arrival. The puppy jokes and nicknames that have already started are beyond annoying, but there’s not much he can do about it.

He’s focused on finishing now, trying to hurry himself so Jay doesn’t have time to entertain the idea of breaking in the stall. But only a second later he can hear the lock jostling, making him jump a little and drop his aim. He curses at the pee trickling on his feet, shaking off and hurriedly tucking himself in just as Jay frees the latch and pushes the door open. 

Carlos is met with a wicked smirk, which Jay immediately drops to a frown when he spots Carlos fumbling the button of his shorts closed.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” he mumbles, sauntering closer. Carlos stumbles back, slamming the backs of his knees into the porcelain bowl of the toilet and causing him to arch awkwardly. He turns his body and catches himself on the tank before he can fall farther, taking the opportunity to flick the handle and flush before he launches himself back.

“Hey there!” Jay snorts, grabbing Carlos around the waist and pulling him close when Carlos’ body lands against him. The boy is quick to twist and squirm, freeing himself from the thief and lunging for the door. Jay is faster though, and slams the stall shut with one hand before Carlos can escape.

“Come now, C, did I say it was time for us to leave??” Jay tuts. Carlos presses his face against the stall door, biting his lip hard to avoid a snappy retort. He’s at Jay’s mercy in this stall, and doubts he’ll be a fair match against the boy’s muscles, rippling obviously from the cutoff sleeves of his vest.

A surprisingly gentle hand cups under Carlos’ chin, guiding his face away from the door. Reluctantly, he follows it, until his body is turned and fully facing Jay. His face is tipped upward to meet Jay’s smile, which seems less menacing but somehow still cocky and triumphant. Carlos can’t fight the sneer on his own lips, which only prompts more laughter from Jay.

“Ohhh, someone’s a little fiery, huh De Vil? You’ve got some balls, considering you’re the one invading my bathroom without my permission.” 

Carlos perks a brow, glaring questioningly at the brunette. “Your bathroom? I-I ...really? Ev-I mean, nobody, told me that.”

Jay shakes his head at that, and releases his grip on Carlos’ chin, letting his fingers drop to tease along his jawline instead. Carlos holds his breath at the gentle sensation, pushing himself into the door with enough force that he can feel the latch digging into his back. It’s painful, but if it’s the only way to spare some space between him and Jay, he’ll take what he can get.

“Guess that’s lesson one then, pup,” Jay taunts, fingers still lightly caressing Carlos’ face. “The halls are mine when class is in session. You got that?” Carlos musters a short nod. “Good. And that includes any place there’s not a teacher. You need to use the bathroom? Grab stuff from a storage closet? Or even just hide out in there, you gotta pay the toll.”

“T-toll?” 

Jay still feels too close, so Carlos tries to shift back more, which only produces a sharp pain when the latch scrapes him harshly again. He’s grateful for the distraction, though, when Jay dips in closer and grins wide.

“Yep. Everyone’s gotta pay up. No exceptions.”

Carlos stares at Jay for a moment, but feels uneasy when the boy is more than happy to stare back at him, their noses close and practically touching. He swallows thickly then, letting his gaze fall to the floor between them as he carefully sorts his words.

“I-I...but...Jay. Y-you know. I already told...” he looks up for a second and catches a glance at Jay’s now audacious smirk. And that makes him seethe.

“You know I don’t have anything,” Carlos states flatly, feeling a new surge of confidence. “I already told you. My mom’s a bitch, I barely get food and clothes. You think I have shit to spare for you?”

He shrinks back after his bold outburst, waiting for Jay’s response. But the thief doesn’t move, and his smirk doesn’t fade. He does take a generous step back though, allowing almost an arm’s length between him and Carlos. Carlos relaxes slightly at that, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he’s able to free his back from the painful latch. But even with the space between them now, Jay’s eyes never leave his. Carlos hasn’t even seen him blink! And the lingering stare is making him shiver.

“Well, not all tolls have to be cash and stuff, do they?” Jay retorts, licking his lips a little. “I’ve accepted, other...forms of payment. But you know that, don’t you? Smart guy like you. I know you’ve heard the rumors.”

Carlos swallows again, his mouth feeling horribly dry all of a sudden. He has heard the rumors. How could he not? Jay and Mal are the big bads of the school. There’s plenty of stories being passed around by everyone, mostly pointing out the best ways to avoid bodily harm at the hands of the two of them. And while he has heard that both are mostly appeased by money or things to hock for money, the entire student body is also aware of Jay’s willingness to trade, physical pleasures, as well. Though Evie had made it clear that it’s usually girls that makes those kind of offers, the kind that Jay is happy to accept, Carlos can’t help but wonder if that’s what Jay’s implying right now. Because the way he looks at him, and the constant lazy scans of his eyes up and down Carlos’ body, are giving him pause. 

Can Jay be asking for that? From Carlos? That seems...impossible.

But then Jay leans back in, bracing an arm above Carlos with a brow cocked and a suggestive curl to his lips, and Carlos thinks it might actually be entirely possible.

“I think you know what I’m thinking.” Jay interrupts Carlos’ thoughts with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Up to you, pup. You barged into my bathroom and used my stall. Now, how are you going to make that up to me, hm?”

Carlos chews on his lip, refusing to dare a look at Jay. He’s not sure what to say if he did, so he keeps his eyes trained on his fingers, tangling and untangling them together while he thinks. 

Fuck, he really should have listened to Evie.

Both boys are distracted then by the slam! of the bathroom door and irritably loud clacks across the linoleum.

“Carlos?? Are you in here??”

Evie! Carlos bites back a smile.

“Ev-mmph!”

A hand claps over his mouth, with Jay’s eyes wide and glaring at him. Carlos squirms, twisting away from Jay’s hand and wriggling along the stall door in the process. Then they hear an audible sigh, followed by a few slower clicks forward.

“Carlos, I know you’re in there.”

He wants to answer, but Jay keeps his hand in place, putting a finger to his own lips to silence Carlos.

“Jay, I know you’re in there, too.”

Jay grits his teeth and rolls his eyes as Evie raps harshly on the door.

“Come on, boys. Do you think I can’t see your feet? Stop wasting my time and open up.”

Jay grumbles, dropping his hand from Carlos’ mouth and giving him the chance to scurry away from the door. Jay tries to reach for him again but Carlos slides back quickly, jamming himself behind the toilet and against the cement wall to avoid Jay’s grasp.

“Well fuck,” Jay grunts, giving Carlos a frustrated glare. At that moment they here the latch click, and Jay steps back just in time to avoid the door swinging open.

“Boys,” Evie scolds, her eyes stern as they dart between Jay and Carlos, before finally settling on the dark haired boy in front of her.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Jay?” she scolds, crossing her arms as she glares coldly at him. “You know you don’t belong in here.”

“Calm down, Blue,” Jay snickers. “You know damn well I go wherever I want. Besides, you’re the one in the men’s room, aren’t you? Last time I checked, you weren’t properly...equipped, to come in here.”

He glares back at her, a proud smirk splayed on his lips. But Evie doesn’t falter, stepping forward instead and marching her way slowly towards the other boy in the corner.

“As if I’d ever want to use a men’s room anyway,” she snaps back, reaching a hand towards Carlos, He grabs it, intertwining their fingers with a relieved smile. Evie flashes a grin his way before returning to Jay with a disgusted sneer.

“And you’ve never seen what I’m equipped with, so don’t you dare try to go around talking about me like I would actually stoop to being one of your little fucktoys.”

She gives Carlos a gentle tug and he springs quickly away from the wall, following Evie’s lead to stand behind her, placing her between him and Jay.

“This bathroom is neutral territory and you know it.” Evie grits, leaning into Jay’s face. “You’re this close to doing your own chemistry homework,” she threatens with a pinch of her fingers. “I bet Jafar wouldn’t be too keen on you getting kicked out of school and losing all your marks here.”

Jay scoffs and looks away, but stays silent. Evie breaks into a smug grin, shoving Jay lightly in the chest. “So, Carlos and I are going to leave now, and you can find another form of payment elsewhere. Got it?”

She whips away before Jay can respond and struts out of the stall, dragging Carlos along behind her. They manage to reach the door before Jay stomps out after them.

“Hey! You wanna be a little bitch then we could just re-nig on our deal! What do you think of that? Just leave you to the fucking wolves at this school. Puppy, too,” he adds with a nod to Carlos. “You’ll get beat so bad the first week you’ll be begging for us again!”

Evie’s gaze softens, and she looks at Jay with a bit of pity before turning back to Carlos.

“Sweetie, go right out the door and wait for me, ok?” Evie asks gently, but Carlos’ brow is furrowed, and he looks confused.

“But-”

“Carlos, please? I’ll be right out. We just need to...talk. It’ll just take a minute.”

Carlos watches her for a moment, searching her face. She smiles brightly at him, and he finally nods and walks out into the hall and leaves them alone.

Evie gives an exasperated sigh. “Look,” she starts, and she reachs for Jay’s hand to give it a squeeze. His eyes widen in surprise at the gesture. “I’m going to let this slide, ok? I just...don’t think you’re thinking straight right now.”

Jay throws a heated glare at Evie as her lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t think you’re being subtle, do you?” she chuckles, shaking her head. “Carlos may not see what’s going on, but he’s the only one that’s clueless, Jay.”

She drops his hand and takes a step back, reaching for the door handle. “He’s my friend,” she whispers, just loud enough for Jay to hear. “And I’m going to protect him, so just...don’t do anything you might regret.” 

Evie pulls the door open slightly and moves to leave, but pauses when she hears Jay snickering behind her.

“What, is that supposed to be some kind of threat?”

She glances up through the doorway and catches a glimpse of Carlos just outside. His eyes are wide with curiosity and worry, and Evie can’t stop herself from smiling.

“Take it however you want, Jay,” she quips over her shoulder. “I was only trying to give you some friendly advice.”

“We’re not friends,” he hisses through his teeth.

"Maybe we’re not,” Evie replies coldly, “But we’re not enemies, are we? Unless you want to change that? You know where to find me if you do,” she teases with a wiggle of her fingers.

“Bye for now, Jay-Jay.”

Evie giggles to herself as she walks out of the bathroom, ignoring the muffled roars coming from behind the now closed door and looping her arm through Carlos’ to pull him along.

“We can study at my house tonight, ok? I just need to see about fixing one little problem and then we can get going.”

[morganaspendragonss]

The Broken Soul of TK Strand (1/?)

so, that bonus fic i mentioned. i cannot take credit for it - it is a translation of 'la esencia rota de tk strand' by road1985, which in turn was inspired by my fic, 'out, damned spot'

i am so grateful to the original author for not only taking the time to write something based on one of my works, but also for allowing me to discuss the plot with her and translate it into english, especially when i am still learning her language. the only thing of this that is mine is the translation, and i sincerely apologise for any mistakes on this front 💚

ao3 | 3k | hurt tk, worried carlos, rituals, kidnapping, angst and hurt/comfort

The man leaned out from the alley and watched the scene. He had spent so much time preparing, he had carefully chosen the victim from many candidates weeks ago, and now it had all gone to shit because of a cigarette and some curtains embroidered by an old woman for her grandson.

He liked the fire. It was erratic, unpredictable, and powerful, just like his Lord, just as he himself aspired to be.

He watched the flames and longed to get closer, to touch them and know first hand the home of his master. But he still wasn’t prepared; he was missing one more sacrifice, the last one. He just needed one more soul, and then the doorway to hell would be open for him.

But it wasn’t just any soul he needed; he couldn’t choose the first stranger who crossed his path. That would be too easy - his Lord had told him so in dreams. To open the door to hell, he had to find pure souls which were close to the dark side, good souls that had been through horrible experiences and whose pain could be extracted together with their body’s vital liquid.

With each one of the souls he had already extracted, he had improved the ritual a little more. It was becoming cleaner, more discrete, and it seemed that the police still hadn’t found the other three bodies. With luck, he would finish the ritual before that happened.

But because everything couldn’t be perfect, the fire had ruined his plans.

He had spent days researching the people living in that building. All of them had problems, but David Archings was his target. An orphan and divorced, it was said that his parents died because of him, and this had destroyed his marriage even though the police found no proof. Now he lived alone in a small flat where no-one ever visited him.

He was a sad man, consumed by grief, and few would miss him.

But the fire had taken him before he could do anything, and this delayed his plans.

Or not.

Whilst he watched the flames consuming the building, the firefighters arrived. They worked quickly and in a matter of minutes, the fire was under control and almost extinguished.

He hated these people who always destroyed the work of his Lord. Who were they to put out the flames of the kingdom of darkness?

On more than one occasion, he had thought out teaching the firefighters a lesson, showing that that they weren’t and never would be stronger than the power of his master.

But there were always so many of them, always with police involved. For someone who enjoyed going unseen and carrying out assignments quickly, it would be too complicated and too much work to hurt them.

Despite everything, that night, the cards played a very different hand, one which could solve all his problems.

In that first moment, he didn’t know why he noticed the young paramedic, but there had been something about that that caught his attention. He had a special aura, which changed from dark to light and dark again, depending on the moment.

It was easy to focus on him. If men interested him, he would say that he was truly attractive. If he were searching for a pretty face, there was no doubt that the boy had it. He didn’t know him at all, but he could tell that he had a sad smile which hid fear and regrets - exactly the kind of darkness that he wanted and needed.

“TK,” an older man said, one of the firefighters who, judging by the resemblance, was clearly his father. “We couldn’t have done anything even if we had arrived earlier.”

“I know, but I can’t get the idea out of my head that it was my fault we got here late.”

“It could have happened to anyone.” The older man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You are one of the best firefighters I know, and now one of the best paramedics. We all have the right to make mistakes sometimes.”

The man began to see some of the darkness he needed for the ritual, but he needed more.

Another man, a police officer, came closer to the young man and opened his arms. The firefighter buried himself in them and the officer kissed his head. It was obvious that they were a couple; they weren’t hiding that they were together, and there was a great love between them. The officer was worried for the paramedic - it almost seemed like it had been taken from a romantic novel.

“Ty, your father is right. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. Tommy said that the man was dead before you got here.”

“I know, but I always think that it’s not fair, that things could have gone another way.”

The man smiled; the paramedic blamed himself for these two deaths but it was easy to see that he carried more guilt inside him.

“When these things happen, I remember what happened to me. If it hadn’t been for my dad always worrying about me, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“That’s a thing of the past and, look, thanks to it, you are here. Have you thought about it that way?” The police officer kissed him and they hugged again before leaving.

It was incredible. He had only thought about taking a soul who was close enough to what he needed. But that paramedic who had been a firefighter, that TK, was exactly what he needed. He was a broken soul, an aged vase in danger of shattering into a million pieces. A firefighter, perfect for punishing those meddlers, and, further, in a relationship with a police officer.

But he was surrounded by people and in the middle of a shift; he wouldn’t be able to take him that night. His master had taught him to have patience, so he let him go, taking note of the firefighters’ station number, so he knew where he worked.

The idea that he would have the soul he was sure was the perfect subject excited him greatly. He didn’t want any mistakes or to find him with a perfect family at home, so he decided to wait and do things right.

*

TK didn’t sleep well that night. They returned to the station after the fire, but he needed time to get to sleep and he woke up many times. When he finally did manage to sleep, he had nightmares about the idea that they could have saved those two strangers.

It wasn’t his fault, not directly at least, but if he had been ready earlier, if he hadn’t forgotten to replace the bandages in the ambulance, they would have arrived on time. Maybe then things would have turned out differently. He couldn’t be sure of course, but the nightmares did nothing but tell him just that.

He got up. Everything was still; with a little bit of luck nothing else would happen and they could finish the shift calmly and go home. But this didn’t make him feel any better, so he made himself a tea - if he had a coffee he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink - and left the station. There were barely any buildings around it, so there was always a beautiful view of the sky.

A little while ago, they had placed some deck chairs on the small back patio and TK sat on one, with a blanket around his shoulders as it was a cool night. He drank the tea slowly as he watched the stars; they never changed, no matter what happened below. Whether people lived or died, the stars remained unshakeable and, in a certain way, this comforted him.

He liked the idea that there were things that couldn’t be changed, things that always happened in a certain way and, as much as he or anyone tried, it couldn’t change.

He closed his eyes - maybe he would be able to sleep out here, and in the worst case, he would catch a cold and spend a couple of days in bed with Carlos. That didn’t sound bad at all. TK drank the last drop of the tea and tried to relax; he had almost managed it when a noise at his back grabbed his attention.

It sounded like a crack, like branches breaking or something similar. He got up and peered into the darkness but there was no-one there and nothing moved. The sound returned, a little closer; maybe it was a wounded animal or one that was trying to get into the station’s trash in search of food.

“Hello?” TK called, only to feel like an idiot a second later; he already knew that there was no-one there.

He headed towards the trash cans but there was nothing there, and he sighed in relief - he would not have wanted a pissed-off raccoon to throw itself at him. TK turned around, but a dark figure, wearing a large coat or cape that didn’t even show a centimetre of skin, appeared in front of him.

“Who are you?” he asked, taking a step back and throwing two of the dumpsters to the floor.

He received no response other than seeing the gleaming edge of a knife the man had taken from under his clothes as he approached him.

The station lights turned on - throwing the dumpsters had raised the alarm. The stranger turned - he wouldn’t be able to do what he wanted, but before Paul and Judd arrived, he used the knife against him. TK raised his arm in defence and shouted at the sensation of the blade cutting his skin. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, but no-one was there save for his friends running towards him.

“TK, are you okay? What happened?”

He looked around him, but the stranger had already managed to disappear. “Where did he go?”

“Who? Hey, that cut looks bad,” Judd said, helping him to his feet.

“There was someone here, he attacked me with a knife.”

Owen and the others arrived a moment later, and searched the station, but found no-one. Judd pushed TK to go back inside so that Tommy could treat his arm.

“It’s not a deep cut, but it has nicked a couple of veins so it looks worse than it is,” his captain said as she finished bandaging his arm. “You said that a hooded stranger did this? It’s possible that you tripped and cut it on glass or a broken bottle.”

“There was someone in front of me, he had a knife.”

“Something tells me that the fire today affected you a lot,” Owen said behind him. “Captain Vega, don’t you think it would be a good idea for him to go home and rest?”

“No! I’m fine, really. That man attacked me and then disappeared.”

But they forced him to go home.

Carlos was waiting for him; he had been asleep but he always left the sound on his phone in case anything happened to TK. Judd had called him and told him what had happened and that TK had been put in a car home.

He met him at the door, barely having time to prepare himself before TK was hugging him.

“I’m not crazy, babe, and the fire didn’t affect me so much that I’m having hallucinations of people attacking me.”

“Shhh, I know. I know you’re not crazy.” Carlos left kisses on TK’s forehead and cheek, and did the same when he took his hands, kissing the palms and the back as he led him to the sofa. “You need to sleep and relax. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“But…”

“But nothing, baby. Sleep, and I’ll stay awake so no-one else tries to hurt you.”

TK wasn’t sure if Carlos believed him or not, but he always felt safe in his arms. He let go and, without bothering to change his clothes, curled up next to Carlos on the sofa. He sighed, feeling his arms surrounding him, and closed his eyes.

They were all right about something - between the last shift and what had happened by the dumpsters, he was exhausted and needed sleep, so it wouldn’t hurt to do it.

When he woke up, Carlos was still awake, reading. By the yawn he gave, it was clear that he had fulfilled his promise and not slept all night.

“Are you feeling better?”

TK looked at his arm, hoping that what had happened the previous night had been a dream. But the bandage was still there.

He nodded. It was stupid to think that someone wanted to hurt him, or that they’d wait around the station until dawn to do it. Maybe it was true, maybe he had had a nightmare about the fire and ended up cutting himself with glass, like Tommy had said.

The kiss to his cheek brought him back to reality.

“Should I make breakfast?”

“We could do it together?” TK offered, but Carlos clicked his tongue and laughed. “Okay, sorry, what I meant is that you make breakfast and I’ll lend a hand.”

“Perfect.” With another kiss to the forehead, Carlos circled his waist and made him get up. He looked happy, with that warm, perfect smile that made TK feel as if nothing could go wrong. “What’s up? Why are you looking at me like that?” Carlos asked.

TK shook his head and the smile returned. His arm didn’t hurt and the fear of the hooded stranger disappeared all at once. He took Carlos’s hand to go to the kitchen and they spent the next hour making a breakfast that, between laughs, games, caresses, and a round of sex on the kitchen island, ended up more on them instead of being eaten.

“Happy anniversary,” Carlos whispered in TK’s ear, feeling the fast beat of his heart.

“Oh, are you serious? We’ve been together for a year today?”

“You forgot, right?”

“Babe, I’m so sorry, I… No, I did forget, but I’ll make it up to you.”

Carlos took off his flour-covered shirt and gave him a quick kiss. “You don’t have to, don’t worry,” he said, before heading to the bathroom.

“Carlos, babe, wait.” TK tugged at him. “Everything’s been so perfect with you. And it’s gone so fast too. When we started dating for real, I didn’t want to give myself hope that we would last and I decided to take it day by day. I was always scared that…”

Carlos took his face in both hands. “I’m not Alex, nor could I ever be Alex.” He never lost his smile; even now that he was hurt, he kept smiling and kissing TK. “And I’m going to be here, with you, forever. I love you, Ty. I love you so much, so I’m going to carry on as if I hadn’t heard anything, and I’ll wait for you at the precinct at six tonight so we can celebrate our anniversary.”

“Okay, though what we just did…”

“That was just the appetiser. Babe, you have no idea what I have prepared for tonight.”

*

TK worked that shift like normal, though every once in a while, he looked at his arm. He’d convinced himself that it was impossible that someone would have attacked him. Why go to the station to hurt him? Why him? It didn’t make sense.

Luckily, the shift was quiet and it enabled him to rest; they only went on one call and the rest of the day, Tommy and his father both told him to take it easy. But now that he wasn’t thinking about the fire, he couldn’t get out of his head how bad Carlos must be feeling after TK forgot their anniversary.

He had to do something, to somehow make it up to him.

“Can I leave a little early today?” he asked Captain Vega, before telling her everything that had happened.

“Go, buy him something pretty - forgetting the first anniversary is very serious.”

*

He had studied the area, parking the car somewhere that wouldn’t appear suspicious, but also a place where he could see the soul he lacked.

His blood was perfect; the ritual he had done last night had been a success, and its taste was exquisite. Now all that was left was to take him and prepare him for the final ritual.

He had decided to wait until his shift was over, but there was no doubt that fate was helping him, as he saw him leave two hours early. He got out of the car, seeing him put in his headphones, and raised his hood to avoid the wind.

“Hey, TK!” a voice behind them said, the only thing that hadn’t gone as he expected, the only thing that made him improvise.

He hid the syringe he carried in his jacket pocket and, gripping tightly to the iron bar he’d found nearby, hit his victim in the head.

TK fell to the floor, sounds reverberating around him, barely able to see anything other than white lights.

“He’s already left,” said another voice inside the station.

“I’m… I’m here. Help,” TK breathed, his voice barely there. Even that was painful as he watched the stranger, the same from the previous night, approached him with an iron bar in his hand. “Dad… Judd… Please.”

“For the return of the Great Dark Lord,” said the other man, closing the gap that separated him from TK. He knelt in front of him and placed the iron on his chest. “For the Lord of the Dark to walk the earth, you will give your life, your blood, and your soul. You are the fourth chosen. The fourth cardinal point to mark his return.”

“Please, you’re wrong… I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

“You are. Soon you will see.”

Before TK could say anything else, a second blow to his head left him sprawled on the ground, like a broken toy.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[this week’s T5F was requested by anon]

Top 5 Worst Choices That Didn’t Matter

“This game series adapts to the choices you make. The story is tailored by how you play.”

......Yeah okay, Telltale. 

There are a lot of important choices to make over the course of the twdg series, but as we all know, not every single choice matters. One of the biggest things people tend to complain about Telltale games is the illusion of choice and “my choices don’t matter! We all get the same ending anyway!” which is fair, I get it. 

I personally try to look at the choices in a more positive light. Like, yeah it doesn’t matter if you cut Lee’s arm off or not. No matter what, you can’t save him and he’s going to die at the end of S1. Except that choice does matter, just not in the way we wanted it to. It matters because it shapes the story we the player want to tell. 

Who is your Lee? Is he willing to do anything to rescue Clementine? Including cutting his own arm off if it means giving him just enough time to get to her, even though it’s going to hurt like hell and could possibly leave him worse off? 

Or is your Lee someone who won’t risk that, even if there is the smallest hope that they cut it off in time and he could live? He’s willing to let the infection spread and kill him because he needs both arms and all the energy he has left to get to Clementine?

Sure, it doesn’t matter in the end-- Lee still dies, but two armed Lee isn’t the same man as one armed Lee, and that’s important to your story. Plus, that choice is memorable as hell. 

But these kinds of choices that are impactful to your story in various ways? Yeah, we’re not talking about those today. Nope. Today we’re talking about choices that meant absolutely nothing. They never came back, they didn’t impacted the story in a meaningful way, they’re forgetful, and they’re just the worst. I don’t like ‘em.

Before we get started, just wanna shoutout @pi-creates​ for helping me bounce all these choices around and reminding me of so many things I forgot.

5.  Telling Clementine to bring AJ back to Richmond

One of the last choices you’ll make as Javier Garcia happens during a conversation with Clementine. The two are talking about AJ and Clementine’s wondering if she was a good mom [which still don’t love the direction they went there for okay ANF] and Javi has the choice to tell her to bring AJ back to Richmond, or to leave him at the ranch. 

And funny enough.... this means nothing. It does nothing. It’s said and nothing is remembered. Clementine never brings AJ back, she never mentions Javi telling her to bring him or leave him... all we get is a single line in TFS during the ranch flashback where Clementine says that they can’t go back because it’s a warzone that way.... but she says that no matter what. 

It also doesn’t help that this come at the very end of the season but isn’t a huge choice the affects the endings. I dunno if they were trying to plant ideas that “Ooohh this choice could decide whether Clem sees the Garcia’s ever again! Clementine’s story isn’t over y’all! The Garcia’s could come back and we could see Richmond again!”

But then TFS happened and they were like “Ha, that’s stupid, no one likes the Garcia’s.” and they are never mentioned by name again. 

4. Helping Sarah in the green house

Ugh, okay.

So, there’s this point in S2 where you’re trapped in Howe’s and put to work in the green house with Sarah and Reggie. Y’see, Sarah isn’t doing so good at this. Carver got pissed at her for talking earlier and forced Carlos to slap her... which he did, and it knocked her on her ass, and now she’s in shock. 

Then ya got Reggie who keeps talking about how he’s on thin ice with Carver but also he’s this close to being let out of the holding area, so behave and all will be chill. He gives you a task to trip and pick berries or whatever, when you notice that Sarah is just kinda standing there.

So you got a choice: Do you focus on your own work, or do you help Sarah out?

Well, it doesn’t matter what you pick. 

It.... it literally doesn’t matter. Sure, you could argue that it helps Sarah out and adds friendship points with her.... except no, not really. It’s never brought up again. She doesn’t even guilt you if you don’t help her, which is something you’d expect from these games. 

Oh, and Reggie dies no matter what. Yeah, Carver comes in and thinks a couple of berry bushes is the perfect reason to throw this man off of a rooftop... but then he doesn’t do anything to Clementine or Sarah either way. He doesn’t get mad if you help, he doesn’t go after Sarah if you don’t.... and it’s never mentioned again. Reggie’s death is, but your specific choice isn’t.

3.  Stealing from Arvo 

Oooooh boy, gotta love the Arvo choice. 

So, you and Jane are trying to find a safe place for Rebecca to have her baby when you see this kid walk up carrying a bag. He’s pretty harmless, and he’s more scared of you than you are of him. Jane gets the jump on him, and you check out the bag he’s carrying. 

Turns out, he’s got a shit ton of medicine.... medicine that your group could really use. Arvo panics and begs you not to steal from him, claiming it’s for his sick sister. You gotta decide if you want to rob him or not.

And it doesn’t matter. 

The best I can do to defend this is by kinda comparing it to when you steal from the Stranger’s car in S1. It’s more of a moral choice to shape Clementine, y’know? Except it doesn’t really do anything..... Clementine isn’t branded a thief after this, she doesn’t go around just stealing shit [though she can steal Pete’s watch but that’s another story]. But if you do want to keep stretching, then the next entry on this list could be seen as a continuation of Clementine’s thieving ways if you so choose.... but that choice is here, too, soooo take that for what you will. 

If you steal the medicine, you have this pill bottle that you can give to Rebecca but that barely matters, too. They don’t help or harm her when she’s giving birth, they do nothing for AJ, and no matter what you do.... Arvo’s squad ambushes you.

And it means nothing.

Arvo will always claim you stole from him, even if you didn’t. Rebecca will always die and someone will always shoot her, causing a shootout to happen where no one in your group dies.

Yeah, no one but Arvo’s squad dies. Mike gets shot, and so does Luke but that’s it. 

Oh, and stealing from him is never brought up again after that.... because it doesn’t matter. 

Even if they did something where if you stole from him, then one of your group members dies because of some bullshit reason, then it would mean something but as it is now? Nothin’.

2. Injecting AJ with medicine 

Oh hello, ANF, you’re back. 

This flashback is annoying on so many levels... Alright, AJ is sick and everyone has told Clementine that there’s nothing anyone can do to help him, but she gets her hands on the name of a medicine she thinks will help. So she sneaks around and finds the medicine, but of course, she can only give it to him as an injection. 

Instead of doing the smart thing and taking the medicine and moving away from the group to give to AJ in a safe location where she won’t get caught, she sticks around for Lingard to wake up, and he’s high outta his mind so that’s fun. 

He tells her that it’s not going to help him and to just put it back. She knows what they do to thieves around here but he won’t tell anyone. It’s up to you, do you put it back or inject AJ?

Well, guess what? 

Clementine gets caught either way and the drugs are either in AJ or smashed on the floor, David becomes a flipflop with his “We shoulda abandoned AJ long ago to die >:O but also you can’t take him because he’ll die out there!” and they kick Clementine out for being a dingus. 

And here’s the kicker.... AJ is alive no matter what. He gets through whatever sickness he had and went to the ranch. You injecting him or not did nothing... no side affects, nothing. I’m sure they didn’t want to go super dark by killing AJ off [except they kinda did since there’s a lot of scrapped concepts with a dead AJ] depending on if you injected him or not..... but at least it would’ve been something. Hell, maybe no kill him since we need him for TFS, but maybe it would affect if he went to the ranch or not to begin with. Maybe if he got worse, they sent him somewhere else and that would affect where Clementine went to get him back for the flashbacks in TFS.

Again, you could look at this as what Clementine would be willing to do for AJ........ but it doesn’t enhance the story in any meaningful way.  It affects what Clementine you get in the end, but that’s just some text on the screen. 

I dunno, this choice could’ve done something... that’s all I’m saying. 

1. Teaching Sarah to shoot

Once again, Sarah finds herself on my dumb lists... and not in a good way. Sigh. 

Alright, you wanna talk about the worst choice that meant absolutely nothing? Nothing at all? 

You get back to the cabin in S2 after leaving either Nick or Pete, and Carlos asks you to watch Sarah while they go out to look for the rest. You find Sarah, you can take some pictures, and then she asks where her dad is. 

She gets anxious and sits on the floor....but then she does something interesting. She pulls out a gun she found. It’s not loaded or anything, but she asks Clementine if she can teach her how to use it.

And you’re probably thinking, “Oh, that’s a good idea. She should know how to use a gun, but her dad is too over protective. This could help us in the future.” or “Oof, no, Sarah isn’t ready for a gun. What if that comes back and bites me in the ass? What if she shoots someone I don’t want her to shoot?”

Well, don’t worry your pretty little head because nothing comes of this.

Nothing.

You teach her to shoot, and it does nothing. She never picks up another gun ever again, she never does anything with what you taught her, and nothing happens. 

Just.... wow. 

At the very least... with the other picks on this list, you could stretch and make some sort of excuse for it having an impact on the story.... but this doesn’t do anything to further your relationship with Sarah, Carlos never finds out about it, there’s never a point where Sarah admits she found the gun, she doesn’t use it, she doesn’t give it to Clementine or anyone else to you, and it does nothing.

This scene could be completely removed and it wouldn’t change anything... which honestly, is something I can’t say for the rest of these dumb choices. 

That’s what makes this the ultimate pointless choice. 

---

Dishonorable Mentions

-Asking to go with Mike at the end of S2. Arvo will shoot Clementine no matter what and it’s dumb. -Keeping quiet about Mari when David asks you to. It doesn’t affect anything other than David being upset for two seconds, but you get thrown out and it doesn’t matter. -Trying to help Christa in S2 ep1. Either way, she gets shot at and you never see her again and it just doesn’t matter. -Honestly 400 Days.... just all of it. The only thing you get is pointless cameos if you get everyone to go with Tavia.  -Being nice to Larry. He still treats you like shit and accuses you of being a bitch to him anyway soooo.... yeah.  -Fixing the swing in S1 ep2. If you don’t do it, then Andy will.

----

It’s pretty telling that this T5F is just S2 and ANF choices.... sigh. Like sure, there are a lot of choices that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things in S1 and TFS but most of those I can justify as being there to shape your story and are impactful in different ways..... but boy, there’s just something about S2 and ANF and their choices, isn’t there? 

Anyway, what do you guys think? Do you agree with my choices or nah? Do you have a choice you don’t like and think is meaningless that wasn’t on the list? Lemme know, I’d love to hear it! 

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

—

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Reasons Javier Garcia’s Pretty Great

[darkangel0410]

FIC ROUND-UP 2020

Hey, ya'll, as we yell one last ‘FUCK YOU’ at the absolute hell year that was 2020, I thought I would do a fic round-up of everything I wrote this year. Enjoy!

down to the last bone (pre-relationship McEichel, shapeshifter au): Jack doesn't really meet McDavid until they're both playing at the U18's in Finland. He's heard of him, of course, everyone has, and they've run into each other on-ice, but nothing more than that.

on a hot summer’s night (Tkachuks, a/b/o au, mpreg, werewolves, sibling incest): Sometimes he’ll just be making a sandwich or watching a movie and he’ll just get hit with this urge to find Brady and beg him to fuck him, to make sure he knocks him up.

It’s fucked up for a lot of reasons, not least that they're both still at the beginning of their careers, especially Brady, and Matt isn't in a hurry to stop playing for an extended amount of time, weird biological urges aside.

So when it's mid-August and he still hasn't had his late summer heat, Matt's worried and pissed and fucking scared, but still a small part of him hopes that his alpha finally knocked him up.

falling apart (hips and hearts) (McEichel, a/b/o au, heat/rut sex):  The first time they have sex is during the run-up to the draft while they're in Chicago to watch game four of the Final.

strike us like a match (Tkachuks, Sentinel/Guides, bonding, sibling incest): They've always been close, closer than most siblings Matt knows.

sweat drips (love sticks) (Tkachuks, BDSM au, sibling incest, impact play): There's worse things for a hockey player who happens to also be a sub to be than a masochist; at the very least Matt always has a bruise to press when he's jerking off, aches and pains that he can pretend someone put on his skin during a scene if he wants to. Usually he doesn't.

just swimming in our sins (Tkachuks, dick pics, sibling incest, panty kink, rough sex): The thing is they've always been weird about each other.

Matt always thought it was just being brothers, just a product of playing hockey their whole lives and moving around a lot when they were growing up.

But now he's pretty sure that whatever weirdness they have between them has nothing to do with hockey.

feel good (on my lips) (Stromes, a/b/o au, sibling incest, not related au, heat sex): Most of the time it doesn't bother Ryan that his dad forgets he's an alpha; the rest of their family are almost all betas, so Ryan's always just shrugged off being lost in the shuffle.

It mostly doesn't matter to him in the grand scheme of things: he doesn't live at home any more, his ruts are always six months apart so it's easy for him to plan visits home around them. There's never any one that stays at his dad's house, so his old room there still smells like him, there's no other scents there to annoy him when he visits.

It does mean that his dad tends to dismiss other people's dynamics as unimportant, because Ryan is so easy going about his own.

Even when that's information Ryan would really appreciate having ahead of time.

those words, that kiss (Patrik Laine/Nik Ehlers, werewolves, a/b/o au, heat sex): As long as Nik’s happy, that’s all that matters to Patrik. Everything else is secondary to that, even hockey.

take me home (you’re the one true thing) (Tkachuks, soulmate au, sibling incest): They're exactly what they're meant to be, every part of them tangled together, and they wouldn't change any of it no matter what.

eyes closed, fingers crossed (Sam Girard/Erik Johnson, BDSM au, spanking, light punishment): Erik doesn't need to see a video to know that Sam's a good dom.

all your fevered dreams (Tkachuks, hellhounds, sirens, mating fights, sibling incest): Most preternaturals don’t recognize Matt’s scent right away.

The ocean part of it is simple: all sirens smell like saltwater, even if they’re not born at sea the way their ancestors were. It’s the brimstone that makes wolves and other shifters wrinkle their noses in confusion and lean in closer to get a stronger smell, like their noses lied to them the first time.

Matt tolerates it when it’s his teammates trying to familiarize themselves with his scent and even then his patience is limited and he’s not afraid to push them away from him if they get too annoying about it.

Hellhounds are choosy about who they let into their personal space and for how long: Matt’s no exception.

not a day goes by (Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson, a/b/o au, non-traditional a/b/o dynamics, bonding): He's never looked at an alpha and thought mine. Never wondered how one would look with his collar around their neck.

But Brock is always right there, always within touching distance and smiling at Elias like he can't help himself. Like maybe he wants what Elias wants.

in between (McEichel, godlings au, homophobic slurs): The locker room afterwards is quiet in spite of winning and Connor knows part of it is his own bad mood bleeding over to the rest of the team, but he can't bring himself to care as much as he should.

got you under my skin (Quinn Hughes/Jack Hughes, a/b/o au, sibling incest): “Quinn's not an alpha,” Jack says automatically, even though he can smell the new undertone to Quinn's normal evergreen and oranges scent, the one that's been there since they went to world juniors last year; it’s sharp and heady, and a part of Jack can’t help but focus on it, drawn to it for some reason he can’t explain. “We're betas,” he adds, his voice unsure.

Matty scoffs but doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t really need to: Quinn and Chucky are still fighting, snarling and hitting each other with a ferociousness that seems entirely out of place in the Tkachuk's front yard, and the air seems to be pressing down on Jack, intense with the scent of two enraged alphas, and that says more than any words could.

charlie (Charlie McAvoy/Brandon Carlo, godlings verse): Charlie doesn't remember anyone ever explaining what death, or the afterlife was to him.

beginnings in death (pre-relationship McEichel, in death au): The first time he sees Connor is at a funeral.

nobody loves you (like i do) (Tkachuks, BDSM au, masochism, sadism, rough sex): The thing is Matt doesn’t consider himself romantic or anything like that. He loves Brady: as his dom, as his brother, as his boyfriend, and yeah, he needs him in the same ways, but those are just facts to him.

i love the way you hurt me (Tkachuks, werewolves, animal death, werewolf courting, minor character death): A mate who couldn’t court properly, who didn’t have claws and teeth of their own, wasn’t a mate worth having in Matt’s opinion.

How could you judge someone as worthy when they couldn’t even beat you in a fight?

just like oxygen (McEichel, werewolves, animal death, werewolf courting, minor character death): Even back then Jack knew Connor would change his life.

just to feel you (Tkachuks, a/b/o au, heat sex): Brady knows it’s going to be him and Matt.

They still fight like cats and dogs, as eager to use their fists on each other now as when they were kids, but there's an edge to it recently that wasn't there before, something that makes Brady want to pin Matt to the floor and take him apart, bite by bite.

He thinks Matt would let him, too, the way he watches Brady when he thinks Brady isn't paying attention.

The joke's on him, Brady always pays attention to Matt and what he's doing.

*

Well, that’s it! All things considered, it was a pretty good year for me, creatively speaking. I did some moodboards, too, and maybe I’ll post those tomorrow or at some other point ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I hope ya’ll also had some good things that helped you through this disaster of a year, be safe and I’ll see you on the other side of 2020 ❤❤❤

[omotextual]

Omovember Day 6

Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale

Prompt: Too Busy/Not Allowed To Go

In which Carlos ignores his bodily needs even though he knows better, and Cecil lets the punishment fit the crime.

Here there be plenty of D/s stuff (obviously?) but no actual sex.

Carlos hunched over the microscope, ignoring the way it put pressure on his overfilled bladder. He wanted to finish what he was doing; it would only take a few more moments, and then he could go to the bathroom.

The trouble was, he'd been telling himself that for hours now. It was all too easy to forget that he needed to go in the face of science, and then the next time he noticed, coming up for air to find that he was tapping his foot or squirming slightly on his lab stool, his body very much aware that he needed to pee even if his mind was not -- well, by then he would inevitably be at a sensitive point in an experiment, unable to walk away even for a moment, and would have no choice but to keep holding it in until he finished. By which point he would forget again, already wrapped up in something else.

Finally, though, he had reached a point where the need could be ignored no longer. His bladder twinged almost painfully as he shifted continually on the stool. It was getting distinctly hard to focus, the urge becoming more, well, urgent with each passing moment that he refused to heed it. He could still hold it, though, and he just really wanted to finish this, so he shoved the discomfort to the back of his mind with the ease of long practice. With no need to be embarrassed, seeing as he was the last one in the lab, he let his body squirm and writhe as it wished, one hand clutching his cock tightly as the other scribbled down his observations, penmanship noticeably rushed and shaky.

Fuck, he needed to piss. He wanted to piss, he realized, wanted to say fuck it, throw himself from the stool and race to the bathroom and --

Oh god, he needed to go. But he was so, so close to being done, and if he gave in he would lose his train of thought completely. Just a couple more minutes, he reminded himself, still so determined to finish the experiment. He was shaking and squirming almost too hard to do anything, though, his bladder sending out constant signals of need until it felt like there were alarm bells going off in his head --

Wait, no. Not in his head. That was the alarm on his phone -- and it had already been going off for over a minute. Shit.

The sudden jolt of near-panic did not help with what was going on in his bladder, but it did take precedence. Grabbing his bag, Carlos glanced over his lab bench, making sure nothing immediately perishable, radioactive or sentient was left out, and ran for the door, sparing one last longing look at the bathroom.

---

The curfew was one of the first things they had instituted, back when they were first playing around with the idea of Cecil being his dom, and Carlos, to his own immense surprise, had never yet broken it, not without at least calling to let Cecil know he was running late. It seemed a bit extreme, as an early step, but Carlos had always understood: Night Vale could be dangerous, and Cecil worried about him, and well, he did have a tendency to forget the outside world existed, to his own detriment. The current situation was evidence enough of that.

It was a short drive home, for which Carlos was immensely grateful. The need to piss had receded slightly as his mind was fully occupied with concerns of getting home on time. It hadn't gone far, however, and he found himself dearly wishing he had stop-sign immunity, as every slight pause seemed to last forever. By the time he arrived his legs were twitching slightly, wanting to press together but unable to do so while he was driving. He grimaced as he climbed out of the car, the jostling making his bladder throb painfully. He practically ran for the front door, hoping with all his might that it was unlocked, because he really wasn't sure he had the willpower to hold it in and fumble with his keys at the same time.

It was. In fact, he nearly collided with Cecil as the man pulled the door open, clearly about to peer out and check for him.

"Carlos!" he exclaimed. "You're home...and right on time, too." The smirk on his face told Carlos just how close he had cut it -- but there was another matter he was cutting much closer. He dropped a kiss on Cecil's cheek, mumbling -- something, he honestly didn't know what -- and staggering toward the bathroom, his bladder pulsing insistently, as though knowing how close he was to much-needed relief.

"Carlos," Cecil said, a hint of laughter in his tone, "slow down, it's all right. Come here and kiss me properly; I haven't seen you all day."

Carlos whimpered, but did as he was told, unable to really do otherwise unless he wanted to blurt out how badly he needed to go. Cecil deepened the kiss, pressing him up against the wall. He tried to focus on that, to ground himself with the feeling of Cecil's mouth on his, and felt himself calm just slightly, his bladder settling as his body was forced to accept, yet again, that release was not immediately forthcoming.

"You must have had a very busy day, to be so nearly late. Come here, baby, tell me all about it." Cecil took him by the wrist, clearly about to lead him through to the kitchen, and Carlos felt himself break.

"I, I will, Ceec, just...I just really need to go to the bathroom first," he admitted, pulling away regretfully.

Or trying to.

"Oh?" Cecil murmured, one eyebrow raising dangerously, his fingers still firmly around Carlos' wrist. "Didn't you go before you left the lab?"

"I -- I meant to," Carlos stammered. "But..."

"But you got so wrapped up in science that you forgot." Carlos could only nod, blushing as he could almost see all the pieces of the situation clicking together in Cecil's mind, which hopefully meant he only needed to wait another moment -- surely Cecil would let him go now.

"Well then," he said slowly, and Carlos held his breath, fidgeting as he waited to be released. "You can't need to go that badly, can you? If you could just...forget?"

Oh, fuck.

"I do, Cecil, I-- oh--"

Cecil looked him up and down, taking in the tightness of his legs, squeezed together from thigh to knee, the way he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, his eyes pleading for mercy. "You really do, don't you baby?" Carlos nodded frantically. "You must have been holding it for quite awhile already, to be so desperate."

"Yes, yes, I -- ahh--"

"So busy and distracted, you couldn't even be bothered to stop and empty your bladder."

Carlos could only moan, somehow knowing what was coming even before Cecil said it.

"You've waited this long. You can wait a little longer. Come on, it's time for dinner." Cecil tugged at him again, and Carlos could do nothing but follow, whining softly as he continued to hold it in.

---

Cecil didn't comment on the fact that Carlos barely touched his meal, or the fact that he was clearly squeezing his cock under the table as he swayed slightly in his seat. He did pour him a large glass of wine, smirking as Carlos watched the pale liquid stream into the glass, biting his lip, unable to look away. He knew that he would be required to finish it before he could leave the table, but also that he needed to pace himself -- if he drained it too quickly, Cecil would only refill it.

He and Cecil discussed their days as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on, though Carlos couldn't keep the strain out of his voice. Cecil cheerfully ignored this, which only served to make Carlos squirm in his seat, knowing this was simply how it was: Cecil had told him to hold it, and so hold it he would, that was that, no further discussion necessary.

It was not nearly that simple for Carlos. He had already been holding it for so long, and he wanted it so badly, his entire body felt suffused with the need to pee. He could only hope Cecil took pity on him soon, because he really wasn't sure how much longer he could wait.

Finally, dinner was finished, the last drops of wine drained (and seeming to travel directly to his bursting bladder, though he tried to tell himself that was unscientific and just his imagination). Cecil instructed him to go into the living room and choose a movie. "Unless you want to stay and keep me company while I do the dishes, of course," he smirked.

Carlos fled.

Queuing up a documentary on Netflix, he sat on the couch to wait for Cecil, taking the moment of privacy to frantically squirm and dance in place. He jiggled his legs up and down, almost as though he was running in place, while his upper body rocked violently back and forth. He could hear the sound of his constant motions, the squeak of springs from the couch, the drumming of his feet on the floor, the little gasps and moans and cries of "oh, oh--" that fell from his lips, louder than he intended. He knew Cecil could probably hear it too, but he couldn't help it.

He longed to piss, to let out even a little, torturing himself with the thought. What if he let just a spurt go, just one good leak -- he could say it was an accident -- and Cecil would be a few more minutes -- he'd be able to stop, he would -- it might not even show -- and oh, he just needed to take a little of the pressure off, then he'd hold it as long as Cecil wanted, please--

He whined, knowing he wouldn't do it, wouldn't deliberately disobey Cecil like that, but oh, just thinking it was making it so much harder to resist.

Finally Cecil joined him to start the movie and Carlos was forced to try and still his fidgeting. He tried to focus on the screen, but without the distraction of conversation, his mind returned again and again to the overwhelming urge to piss. His hips shifted restlessly, trying to ease the frantic tension in his bladder. He was beyond desperate by now, truly needing to go, but he knew he wouldn't be given permission yet, knew he had no choice but to keep holding it. His breathing sped up as his bladder gave a particularly strong spasm, and he longed to grab at his cock but somehow resisted, knowing that he needed to stay in control for as long as possible.

He couldn't quite manage to keep still, though, each shift and twitch of his body only moving the urgency around, as his restless motions began to speed up again, no matter how hard he tried to control himself. He alternated between squirming in place and bouncing one foot frantically, his breathing increasingly coming in shuddering gasps, and oh, he wanted to beg, wanted to promise Cecil anything if he would just pleasepleaseplease let him pee, but he knew he would only be denied, would get nothing until Cecil was ready to give it to him.

He couldn't stop a small whimper escaping, and Cecil stroked a hand down his back.

"Are you all right, Carlos?" he asked, as though he'd only just noticed his boyfriend's predicament.

"Fine," Carlos gasped automatically. "I just...I really need to go, Cecil," he whined, face heating at the admission.

Cecil pulled him into his lap, sliding a thigh between his legs, and Carlos ground down frantically, needing the friction and pressure to help him hold on now that he couldn't squeeze his legs together. "I know you do, baby. Maybe when the movie's over, okay?"

They were maybe half an hour in. "I uh...I don't think I can wait that long," he admitted in a humiliated whimper, wriggling his hips against the pressure Cecil's body provided. There was really no "think" about it -- Carlos felt like he might let go at any moment, no matter how he squirmed and wriggled and tried to hold back the inevitable flood.

"You can, sweet Carlos, I know you can. After all, you don't have a choice." Carlos whined full-out at that, burying his face in Cecil's neck.

"Shh," Cecil soothed. "It's all right. You can do this," and oh, he couldn't, he really couldn't, but he had to. He closed his eyes and tried to just accept it, this unbearable need that he had no choice but to bear. Oh god, he had to hold it. He was going to hold it. He wasn't going to beg, and he absolutely was not going to piss in Cecil's lap -- right -- now--

"Cecil, please! Please let me, oh please..."

"I know, I know," Cecil hushed him. "Oh, poor Carlos, I can see how badly you need it. You must have been holding it in for so long, baby." He nodded, whimpering. "How long, Carlos? How long have you been waiting, holding all that piss inside?"

"I -- nnnngh--"

"Answer me, bunny."

"S-since... Lunch... Ahh-- little...after...lunch," he managed, giving his best estimate. It was really more thought than he was capable of at the moment.

"That long? Oh, you poor thing, you must be dying for it, aren't you?"

"Please..."

"If you can hold it that long for science, you can hold it a little longer for me," Cecil said matter-of-factly, returning his attention to the screen.

Carlos whined, and shook, and tried, tried with all his might to just do as he was told and hold it, but it was only a few more minutes before he broke.

"Cecil," he pleaded, very quiet but oh, so desperate, his body going painfully still, aside from the fine trembling running through his every muscle. "Cecil, please, you have to let me go now."

"Oh? I have to?" Cecil challenged -- but gently, as though sensing just how close Carlos was to his limit.

Carlos whined pitifully, trying to find the words. For a long moment he just hung there, shivering, desperate, unable, and then: "Don't wanna disobey." It was barely a breath.

"Carlos?" Cecil pushed gently at his shoulders, his tone concerned as he tipped him back slightly to look into his face. It was too much, too intense, and Carlos' eyes slid shut as he tried to speak.

"I...mmn...I was bad..."

"Carlos, no," Cecil began, stroking his cheek tenderly. "No, not bad, just--" Carlos momentarily released his death grip on himself to bat at his hand. He already knew all that, he just lacked the words to be more specific, and he would not last through one of Cecil's soliloquies.

"Didn't take care of myself. Nnnow...punishing me..." And Carlos loved him for it, loved that Cecil cared enough to do this. But...

"You want to take your punishment like a good boy," Cecil breathed, sounding almost awed. Carlos nodded frantically. "Oh, Carlos, no, no, it's all right. This isn't about how long you can wait. Though you are doing exceptionally well, baby." Carlos sobbed softly, words exhausted. "If -- when -- you really can't hold it, you'll let go, it's all right. I just want you to feel it. Next time you're busy in the lab and you need to go, I want you to remember this feeling."

"I will, Cecil, I promise, I -- ohhhh --" Carlos took his point, but after the extended torment...he was so desperate, wound so tight, and he just really needed Cecil's permission.

"I've got you, sweetheart, I promise it's all right." Carlos rocked helplessly, not knowing how to explain anymore, trembling on the absolute brink. "This, right here," Cecil continued. "This feeling. Next time you decide to put the needs of science before those of your own body, i want you to remember this moment."

"I will, I will, oh god, oh fuck--"

Cecil was murmuring in his ear, "good, Carlos, so good for me, doing so well, baby, just a little more..."

"Cecil, please, I, I, ah--" He gasped sharply, absolutely unable to stop himself as the first droplets leaked out, spreading against him, so warm, so wet, and oh...

Cecil's hand wrapped around his. "Say it."

"I, I'll remember. Next time... I'll go... When I need to... I will, I promise I'll go, Cecil please let me go--"

Cecil pulled his hand away from his trembling cock, and Carlos cried out sharply. "Good, so good for me, baby. You did so well," and oh god, oh please, did that mean -- "so good, Carlos, you can let go now, baby, let it all out."

Carlos sobbed with relief and instantly did as he was told, releasing a flood of pale liquid that soaked his lap within seconds, pouring over Cecil as well and onto the couch, but he couldn't think about that now, not when there was still so much piss streaming out of him, not when it felt so good, so unbelievably good that it almost hurt. His hips jerked helplessly as spurt after spurt pulsed out, until finally he felt genuine relief, slumping against Cecil and groaning quietly as the stream continued to flow.

Carlos was half out of his mind by the time it finally stopped. He was finally, finally empty and practically floating on the feeling of relief, only vaguely aware of Cecil cleaning them both up in the shower, gentle touches and words of praise washing over him along with the water. He knew, vaguely, in some faraway part of his mind that there was a mess on the couch to clean up as well, but he also knew that Cecil would take care of it. Cecil would take care of everything, and that was good, because Carlos was pretty sure he was about to fall asleep where he stood.

He found himself tucked into bed, and it seemed he had hardly blinked before Cecil was sliding in next to him, wrapping him into an embrace. It felt so good, he had a half-formed thought of trying to stay awake, wanting to remain in that moment, but Cecil's arms were warm around him, and that was the last thing he knew as the world slid away.

[llnwritings]

♫ JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS APPRECIATION WEEK ♫

DAY 2 | Write an AU.

Summary: Turns out Reggie was right, Julie really is a witch!

[[Read on Ao3]]

Family meant everything to the Molina family and Julie was very proud of her family. Not everyone could say that they could trace their family line back 15 generations and that their family regularly produced powerful witches and warlocks.

When Ray had married Rose, he had proudly taken her name, knowing how much it meant to her. It was also a long standing family tradition, the Molina name must live on no matter what. You join the family, you become a Molina.

Growing up, Rose and Victoria had been known in certain circles as the Molina Sisters, both being strong witches. Rose had the main power of telekinesis, something she was incredibly talented using, as well as a strong talent for spell creation. While Victoria had been gifted the power of psychometry; the ability to make accurate associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact with that object as well as being a low level empath and also she had a natural talent for potion making.

Both sisters used their witch powers to help out unfortunate people, if you had a magical problem, you could contact the sisters and for the right price they would deal with it for you. They always only charged people what they knew they could afford, if someone was down on their luck and couldn’t pay, the sisters happily accepted payment in the form of food, vouchers or from those that insisted that they paid the sisters accepted a form of payment plan, pay what you could, when you could.

If you were rich or tried to swindle the sisters, they happily charged you double if they were feeling nice or triple if you really pissed them off, 3 quarters up front before the job and the other quarter afterwards once the job was done.

It was a good job, something they both enjoyed. They knew which jobs to take and which ones to pass onto someone else in the family that was better equipped than them. Well paying clients also allowed them both to live comfortably and continue pursuing their hobbies. Rose with her music and Victoria with her cooking.

The only time the sisters slowed down was when Rose fell pregnant. It was then Rose felt it would be best to focus on her growing family. She didn’t completely give up taking jobs though, Victoria and her were just more selective on what they picked.

The day Rose brought Julie home from the hospital, the house had been filled with numerous ghostly relatives, all offering their own blessings to the newest witch of the family, love and happiness surrounded the newest little one. Growing up, Julie was taught in many forms of magic by her mamá and her Tia, in hopes of bringing her own power to the surface.

Julie liked making potions with Tía Victoria but she lacked the natural talent her Tía had. Julie instead took after her mama. The little girl loved making spells up with her mamá, Julie had a gift with words, which transferred over nicely when Julie discovered music and began writing lyrics and playing the piano with Rose.

It was discovered that Julie’s power revolved around her music, she had a talent for mixing her magic with her music and making things happen when they heard her play or sing. She could also use sound to defend herself if the need ever rose, not that it had so far. This was something Rose nurtured deeply, wanting Julie to be as in touch with her witch side as she could be.

Then when Carlos was born, the same ghostly relatives visited and offered their blessings again, this time to the newest warlock, the first one born in 3 generations. It was Tia Victoria who noticed that when he was 2, Carlos had the power to affect the emotions of those around him. If he was happy, people in the same room as him felt happy and it was the same for any other strong emotions the 2 year old felt. They also found out that he could feel the emotions of non-living members of the family, as he always seemed to know when great-great-grandmama was around visiting.

Rose nurtured his talents just as much as Julie’s, but took advice from her sister, as Victoria was the empath out of the two of them. Victoria theorised that Carlos would be able to affect more people at once and larger areas as he got older.

Everything was going good for the Molina family, that was until Rose died.

When Rose died from a job gone wrong, it was like the magic and warmth from the Molina household died with her. It also didn't help that no matter how hard they tried, Julie and Carlos were unable to summon their mamá's spirit. So Julie cut herself off from music and her magic, refusing to even step into her mama’s old studio, while Carlos unconsciously dulled his own ability to emotionally connect with others outside of the family.

----

It wasn’t until a year later, when Julie finally entered her mama’s studio and played an old Sunset Curve CD, that she felt her magic reach out connect itself to the chaotic energies surrounding the music itself and she felt herself pull. Somehow Julie managed to pull three dead teens from limbo without much effort.

After the initial shock of the accidental summoning of a group of teen ghosts and playing numerous gigs with her boys, Julie waited patiently for one of them to ask what was so special about her that allowed her to see them. But it never happened. It’s not like Julie intentionally hid a part of herself from her boys, they just weren’t curious enough to ask. They were just happy to be back and to be able to play music while being seen and heard by people.

Not even after her magical hug, that broke Caleb’s hold over them and allowed Julie to touch them, raised questions from her boys. It was only when Caleb returned to enact his revenge plan, that things began to fall into place for the boys.

While possessing Nick’s body, Caleb attacked Julie in the studio on a Wednesday afternoon. He threw her across the room with a wave of one of his hands and used his other hand to hold her boys in place, unable to help her. Julie yelped as her body slid across the floor and stopped when it connected with the steps that lead up to the loft.

“Julie!!” She heard Reggie yell out.

“How the hell did a little lifer like you break my stamp!” Nick’s voice echoed deeply as Caleb twisted his face into an evil sneer, “It shouldn’t even be possible.”

Julie wiped away the blood that slowly began to run down her face with the back of her hand as she slowly pulled herself back to her feet. She groaned as she felt her magic start to build up, just waiting to be released. Having not truly been used in so long, it was itching for release and it thought Caleb was a perfect target. Clenching her hands into fists, Julie breathed deeply and focused, she needed to wait for the right moment, it wouldn't work if she striked to early.

“Leave her alone!” Luke yelled as he struggled to break free from Caleb’s hold, but all he managed to do was anger Caleb enough for him to send jolts of electricity coursing through his body. Luke clutching his chest and gasped in pain as he dropped to his knees.

“You boys are going to watch,” Caleb-as-Nick turned to the boys with a flourish, “Watch while I crush the life out of your little lifer. Once she’s gone, you’ll have no choice but to come play for me and you’ll be mine forever.”

“Get out of him.”

Caleb-as-Nick stopped gloating at the boys and slowly turned to look at Julie with an eyebrow raised, “What did you say to me?” He stalked towards her, electricity dancing along his fingers, "Look at me when to speak to me." Caleb-as-Nick reached out to grab at Julie's face but was shocked when she screamed.

Caleb wouldn't have known, but it was never smart to attack a witch in her own home. Years of living there, with multiple powerful magical beings under the one roof created a pool of magic, just waiting to be unleashed on some unexpecting evil. Unknown to Julie, her magic eagerly tapped into this pool, giving her a hefty power boost.

"I said, get out of him!" Julie’s eyes glowed electric purple as she thrust both her arms forward towards Caleb-as-Nick and released a sonic soundwave. Using everything she had, Julie focused on pushing Caleb out of Nick’s body, never minding the fact that she blew out the windows of the studio.

The soundwave forced Nick’s body to stagger as Caleb’s hold over him wavered. Caleb could feel himself being ripped away from his pawn, it didn’t matter how deep he tried to sink his claws in, Julie was proving to be more powerful than he had realized. He released his hold over the phantoms to pour more power into holding onto Nick, but it was no use.

Caleb could only watch in shock and horror as Julie’s power painfully expelled him from his meat suit. He landed on the floor of the studio near the entrance with a thud, gasping in pain. Once he was removed, Nick’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor.

Julie stepped forward, getting in between Nick’s fallen body and Caleb. Her eyes continued to glow as she stood over the man that had hurt her boys.

“You’re going to disappear to wherever the hell you came from and leave us alone. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear about you. You’re going to forget about my boys and them joining your hack of a band. If you don’t,” Julie pulled her phone out her pocket and scrolled through the numbers, “I’m sure my Tia will be very happy to help me banish a ghost, it’s practically her day job, a problem like you shouldn’t be too hard for her. Hell, maybe she can trap you in some jewelry for a few hundred years and we’ll throw you into the ocean, how’s that sound?”

Caleb’s eyes widened in fear at each sentence Julie spat at him, he could only pathetically crawl backwards as he attempted to get away from her. With his last bit of his dwindling power, Caleb forced himself to teleport away from the angry witch to the safety of his club, he could only hope that he could regroup and try again later with a better plan.

Once she was sure that Caleb had really disappeared from the studio, Julie dropped to the floor with a gasp, landing hard on her hands and knees. Slowly, the purple glow faded from her eyes as her magic receded back within herself. Shock hit her as she remembered the boys, eyes widening Julie looked around for her boys. She didn’t have to look far, as the three of them had recovered enough to quickly make their way to her side. All of them trying to reassure themselves that she was okay.

“Are you okay?” Alex hovered to her left, “Do you need us to get anyone?”

“I’ll be fine. Are you guys okay?” Julie smiled at Alex, “He didn’t hurt you guys too much right?”

“We’re dead,” Luke tried to wave off Julie’s concern, “We’ll be good as new in a moment, the pain will fade. Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached out to take her hand.

“Um, are we not going to talk about what just happened?” Reggie cut in, “Julie what are you? You handed Caleb his ass.”

Alex smacked Reggie on the arm, while trying to hush him, “Dude, don’t push!” Alex turned back to Julie and smiled, “You can tell us whenever, it doesn’t have to be today.”

“Whaaat?” Reggie huffed, “I wanna know. Don’t tell me you guys don’t wanna know. That’s just unrealistic.”

“It’s fine Alex,” Julie giggled as she pushed herself to sit up properly, with the help of Luke, “Actually Reggie, you already know what I am. Remember the first night you guys appeared?”

Reggie’s face scrunched up in thought as he tried to remember that first night. It took him a moment, but when the penny dropped Reggie’s eyes lit up, “Witch!” He clicked his fingers at her and Julie smiled in reply, “I totally called it.” He happily nudged Alex in the ribs with his elbow.

“Stop it.” Alex smacked Reggie’s elbow away.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Luke helped Julie stand up, “But first I’m going to have to make sure Nick’s okay and then maybe ask Tía to help with a memory spell. We have no clue what Caleb did while in body.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Reggie cheerfully agreed, “I want to know everything.” Reggie froze and gasped, he spun around to face Julie, “Is Ray a witch too?”

“Boys with magic are called warlocks,” Julie explained, “Dad isn’t one,” Reggie frowned sadly at the information, “He married into the family, not a drop of magic in him, but Carlos is and he can see you guys.”

[cosmicclownboy]

It's great Mateo got to shine for a minute in the finale, but this is also the first substantial thing I can remember him actually doing all season??? Last season did a semi-decent job of keeping up with his learning disability at least and this whole season he was basically a glorified extra. Marjan had an arranged marriage plot for an episode and nothing else. Both Paul focused episodes with him dating last season and with his family strictly revolved around him being trans. Carlos went back to being someone TK can make eyes at as if he didn't just lose his home and sanctuary two episodes ago. We still haven't seen him be a cop and work a case unless it somehow had to with his relationship. He interacts with no mains other than TK and now Owen. Not to mention the show dropped TK's addiction completely until it's inevitably mined for Tarlos drama, which makes it seem like they really don't give a damn about doing it justice in general. At this point almost everything about this show just pisses me off. I agree with you. I really can't say I will miss this show during hiatus. The OG has its faults, but I remain invested in every character. Can't say the same about Lonestar.

"At this point almost everything about this show just pisses me off"

It's hard watching a show which had promise fall short because what it advertises isn't what you see. Angela and Peter have both been producers of 911 and yet neither character has ever had the screen time or focus that Owen does. None of the characters are at the expense of others.I know more about Albert or Josh then I do about Paul or Marjan or Mateo. And there lies my issue. Not only are we not seeing all the mains get any depth but the lack of breathing room. Something happens we are immediately skipping it to the next big thing.The pacing the lack of consideration to elaborate bugs me so much.

I know it's procedural. But there are certain things not happening on screen that just is ridiculous. No discussion regarding TK being a paramedic when he's an addict and will be surrounded by drugs daily. The whole plot surrounding Marjan losing her confidence and finding the widow who tried to kill herself. Billy having cancer as a plot device for sympathy only for him to be in remission and he's bad again. Everything feels fake. Tommy husband died in the same episode she's involved in a hostage situation.

As for Mateo it shouldn't of taken two seasons for him to get an A plot come on it's ridiculous.Paul and Marjan still haven't had one either.

[hitchell-mope]

(Third film. Kronk’s Tavern. Facillier’s just sat down at the bar next to Hades (Eva Green) who’s nursing a large flagon of beer)

Facillier: so you’ve heard

Hades: heard? Of course I’ve fucking heard. Your daughter and my son are dead

Facillier: legally. Legally dead there may still yet be hope

Hades: he has no magic. And she’s not powerful enough to keep the both of them alive. So either they’re both dead or there’s going to be a rampaging homicidal heartbroken teenager laying waste to the island any day now

Facillier: you don’t know that.

Kronk (genuinely trying to help): well anything’s possible isn’t it? Both could be dead or one had to eat the other. Phytoplankton only goes so far you know

Facillier: Kronk! There’s a call for you downstairs.

Kronk (not getting the sarcasm): OH BOY

(He launches headfirst into the floor knocking himself out cold)

Facillier: tch. Sideskicks. Now that’s been taken care of. How are you doing?

Hades: my second son is presumed dead. So is your first daughter. What do you think?

Facillier: not very good

Hades: nope!

(She takes another massive swig of beer)

Facillier: where’s Hadie right now?

Hades: with Antony at the butchers. Why?

Facillier: let’s get out of here. You can come back to mine. And we can

Hades: oh ho ho. The offers greatly appreciated. You don’t know how much. But I have a wife

Facillier: I know. She dumped you the morning after the wedding night the moment she realised she was pregnant with Mal.

Hades: oh, no. No. I mean my first wife. Persephone. After all this trouble I think it’s time I put our arrangement aside and focus on her and my five, sorry, four, four children.

Facillier: be that as it may. You’re in no state to be alone tonight. At least let me escort you back to your lair

Hades: nope. Nope. Too risky. I don’t trust myself

(This is when “honey I’m good” happens. After the song she collapses into Facillier’s arms completely drunk)

Facillier: yeah....I’m taking you back to my place. You can’t be alone tonight

Hades (mumbling): ifyoumustyoumust

Facillier: heh?

(Hades mumbles again. This time even more unintelligibly. Then pushes herself away from him)

Hades: fine then. Walk me home.

Facillier: start going. I’ll catch up.

Hades: oooh no no no. You’re walking me back to your place.

Facillier: someone has to pay for the booze

Hades (incredulously): it’s KRONK!

Facillier:....fair point

(They leave the tavern and make their way back to the arcade. This is when “walk me home” happens. After the song they walk through the door of Facillier’s arcade, Hades (having switched to his Sebastian Stan form) being half carried-half dragged inside by Facillier)

Anastasia: so he’s heard?

Facillier: and then some. And kronk was absolutely no help whatsoever

Anastasia: Well you know what we sidekicks are like

Facillier: yes I do. I was one.

Anastasia: oh yeah....I forgot about that

Facillier: everyone does. Help me get him to the sofa

Hades (grumpily pushing himself off from Facillier): no-ohhhh!!!! Imma go drinkie-poo some more

Anastasia: drinkie-poo?

Facillier: cut him some slack alright? He’s grieving his son. I doubt you’d be coping well if Anthony were dead

Anastasia: first off. No one should ever mourn a pirate. Secondly. Assumed dead is very different than ACTUALLY dead. Thirdly. Uma’s in the same situation and you’re not falling apart.

Facillier: I can’t afford to.

Hades (over at the bar): STOP TALKING!!!! I’M WALLOWING HERE!!!!

Anastasia: yeah, we know. And you need to stop

Hades: why the he>hic<ell should I?

Anastasia: because it’s not healthy?

Hades (hair bursting into flames): I AM A GOD!!!!

Facillier: yeah, yeah, we heard you the first 98 million times. Now! We need to sober you up

Hades: wahverfor?

Anastasia: it’s unseemly for a being of your calibre to behave in this manner

Hades: oh fuck off Human!

(Facillier pulls Anastasia off to the side)

Facillier: I think it’s time to try a different approach

Anastasia: ya think?

Facillier: the question is; what do we do?

Anastasia: if we can make this slag heap partially liveable we can kick a deity out of his funk.

Facillier: yeah but how?

Anastasia: to music of course.

Facillier: now why didn’t I think of that?

Anastasia (cupping his face in her hands and looking fondly at him): because you can be a right old idiot sometimes

Facillier: thank you Ana, thank you for the help

Anastasia: it’s what I’m here for Antoine. HADES!!!! What happened to you. We made this island what it is. We built everything from the arcade to the docks. Admittedly it only took 12 hours but we did it. So why are you so down in the dumps?

Hades: I grew up. I have four-three-one. I have 1 child on this island and now he’s all grown up. I’m superfluous.

Anastasia: but people used to run at the mere mention of your name. What happened?

Hades: I’m dead inside

Anastasia: then reignite. Antoine!

(Facillier turns the stereo on. This is when “we built this city” happens. After the song they collapse on the sofa)

Anastasia: feel a bit better?

Hades (chuckling slightly): a bit

Anastasia: gonna stop the hard drinking?

Hades: yup

Anastasia: alright then. In that case. I’m gonna go back to my place. The meat ain’t gonna cut itself you know

Facillier: you could just ask us to help you with magic

Anastasia: nah, I like doing it myself. Keeps me busy. See ya tomorrow

Facillier and Hades: see ya

Hades (immediately after the door closes): I lied

(He launches himself at the bar intent on getting more beer)

Facillier: oh no you don’t!

(He clicks his fingers and Hades ends up suspended in mid air. This is when “I do not hook up” happens. After the song the focus momentarily shifts back to Uma and Celia witnessing the flashbacks)

Uma: wow. They were cut up

Celia: yeah....

Uma (breaking into laughter): THIS IS AMAZING!!!!

Celia: what

Uma: don’t you see? This means someone actually cares about me. I always thought-

(Suddenly they get pulled out of the arcade and into another building filled with exercise equipment, a boxing ring and musical devices)

Celia: where are we

Uma: Morgana’s Speakeasy

Celia: there’s a speakeasy on the island?

Uma: sort of. She told me it’s fun to say. And more inviting then mere bare knuckle boxing. Why would the incense bring us here though?

Celia: of course. Look.

(Uma turns to see the action behind her. Morgana looks shellshocked as Anastasia fetches her a drink)

Morgana: she’s gone. Dead. Dead and gone

Anastasia: assumed dear and gone. There’s still a chance she’s alive

Morgana: if he tries to worm his way back here he’s in for a nasty dose of reality. I can tell you that nothing

Anastasia: Morgan, you’ve got to stop doing this. Not everything has to be traced back your psycho sister and Antoine.

Morgana: tell that to them then.

Anastasia: that’s....a lot of T’s in one sentence. You know what you need? Visualisation Therapy.

Morgana: and that would be?

Anastasia: I don’t know. I read it in a book. And I’m spouting it to what I made Hades do just now. I see no reason why it can’t work on you as well.

Morgana: what do we do?

Anastasia: you’ve got second hand karaoke right?

Morgana: at the bar

Anastasia: perfect. (She walks over to the bar). Now let’s see. Hmmmm. Ooh! Perfect.

(She switches on the machine. After a few stutters and a tiny, easily squashed fire the music starts)

Morgana: oh Christ not this one. It doesn’t even make sense

Anastasia: who cares? Just sing it!

Morgana: ugh. Fine

(This is when “big girls don’t cry” starts. After the song the Speakeasy melts away and the two sisters get pulled upwards)

Uma: what was that?

Doug: ten minutes are up. Come on

(He leads them back into the kitchen where Carlos is glowing with white light and viciously beating Harry up as everyone but Hades, Elsa, Hadie and the Hook sisters cheer him on)

Uma: what the hell’s going on?

Doug: Harry ran his mouth. Carlos got so pissed off he unlocked his latent demon magic. And is now currently in the process of beating the shit out of Harry

Uma: and the king allowed this?

Doug: he’s Carlos’s father. Of course he did.

Uma: DE VIL. STOP THIS RIGHT NOW

Carlos (with the “I’m far too cute for you to get mad at me” look on his face): Sono sempre così terribilmente dispiaciuto capitano. ma non ho la più pallida idea di cosa stai insinuando

Uma: what?

Carlos: means “no”. I can speak Italian now

Jay: I like Italian Carlos

Uma: aren’t you English or something

Carlos: my biological fathers the coachman from pleasure island. Who else do you think would willingly reproduce with Cruella De Vil?

Uma:....good point. But you’re what? 16? How have you only just unlocked your magic?

Carlos: never been quite so pissed off before. Thank you Hook

(Harry wheezes and coughs up blood in response)

Doug: anyway....hades, Mal. I believe you two were going to tell them something.

Hades: yes! Right. Sorry. Uh. Where to start?

Doug: want me to help?

Mal: please?

Doug: fine. When I was under the sleeping curse Maleficent appeared to me and tried to get me to betray you all and join her. I stabbed her with a material dark fae are allergic to and she teleported away. But before they she said something that got me thinking. Some crap about being naive and on your own. But I wanted to know more. So I asked Hades. And then told him to tell Mal cause you know it’s her family history even if she doesn’t see herself as Maleficent’s daughter anymore. Now your turn. Your eminence

Hades: Maleficent isn’t french. She’s Persian. In the year three hundred she decided she wanted rule her kind. Only. They weren’t hierarchical. So she got mad. And killed them. Every last man, woman and child. Until she was the last one left. Then made her way to france. She made a name for herself. Became the Mistress Of All Evil. In 1300 Aurora was born. And, well, you know the rest.

Uma (incredulous): what?

Mal: and the really funny thing is. I don’t know how to speak Persian. But apparently. I can understand it. Take it away dad

Hades: امروز برای صبحانه چی خوردی؟

Mal: bakers dozen egg yolk omelette deep fried in chunky chocolate peanut butter. SEE!?!?

Uma: I-I-I I can’t

Evie: neither can I Uma. But let’s face my sister is inordinately and insanely unfairly lucky

Carlos: are you seriously still on this?

Evie: I just don’t think it’s fair that Mal is willing to forgive him after what he did and yet I’m not allowed to be rightfully mad he abandoned me for sixteen years

Mal: we’ve been over this E. You know why he did what he did

(The two sisters continue to argue as Carlos approaches Jay)

Carlos: I think it’s time for that spell again

Jay: good. Because I really like what happens when we use it. By your leave C

Carlos: thank you. To get rid of these ants in their pants/I command thee all to get up and dance.

(This is when “we are” happens. After the song. Evie now looks more annoyed than ever)

Evie: stop doing that!

Carlos: why? I think it’s hilarious.

Ben: yeah it is actually kinda growing on me

Evie: well I don’t like it. So stop doing it. Ok?

Carlos: when did you become such a drag?

Evie: hmmmmm let’s see. Probably right around the time I found out I’m related to two of the people I hate most in this world.

Carlos: hmmmmm. Nah. You were a drag before today

Mal (sensing danger): ok that’s it!

(She clicks her fingers and the whole house melts away along with everyone else leaving her and Evie in a beige coloured void)

Evie: what did you do that for?

Mal: because you snapped at Carlos.

Evie: of course. Of course you defend the precious prince(.)

Mal: what is your problem? Huh? I’m mean you weren’t exactly sugary sweet before. But today you’ve been downright freaky. Ever since I connected the dots you’ve been indulging in this pity party act that just isn’t like you. And sometimes you’re fine. And then you go ballistic for no good reason-oh my god. Is it your uh....?

Evie: what? No. That’s next week.

Mal: ohhhh. Then what is it? Cause frankly. You’re being a nightmare. And you really need to-

Evie: I don’t know ok! And even if I did know. I wouldn’t tell you. Cause there’s no way in His realm you would ever understand

Mal: and just what is that supposed to mean?

Evie: I don’t ugh I just. (Irritable sigh). It’s just that.

Mal: tell me

Evie: no

Mal: why not? Maybe I could help

Evie: you couldn’t. I doubt even Doug or Dizzy could help.

Mal: why?!

Evie: BECAUSE IT’S NOT HAPPENING TO YOU!

Mal: what!

Evie: you just don’t get it. Everything was fine. I escaped my mother. I have Doug. I have Dizzy. I gave our house. And then this happens. And you are oh so smug about it.

Mal: I’m afraid I’m not following.

Evie: of course you’re not. Allow me put this in terms you might understand

(This is when “better than I” happens. After the song. Evie snaps her fingers and takes them back to the kitchen)

Evie: so do you?

Mal: do I what?

Evie: know better than I do? Know why it’s so difficult for me to accept this?

Mal: no

Evie: then keep out of it then

(She stalks out of the kitchen)

Uma: whoo. I do believe you’ve touched a nerve

Carlos: shut up Uma

Uma: or what?

Carlos: or I’ll make you

Uma: you wouldn’t dare

Carlos: I almost killed you back in the mirror. And that was without magic. Imagine what I can do now that I have it

Uma: you don’t scare me De Vil

Carlos: of course not. Because you don’t want to face the fact that the “weak little human bitch” that you loved siccing Harry on. Can now REPEATEDLY hand you your multi legged ass on a platinum platter

Uma: you wouldn’t dare.

Carlos: oooh let’s see now

(He summons Uma’s nautilus necklace to his hand and freezes her in place)

Carlos: how’d she do this again? Oh yeah

(The nautilus begins glowing white hot and he starts singing)

Carlos: 🎶If you want to cross the bridge, you bitch/You've got the pay the toll/Take a gulp and take a breath/And please try not to be a troll/mom and dad you know I've got her, guys/The prince is on a roll/This poor unfortunate soul🎶 What was next? Oh right. 🎶Beluga sevruga. Come winds of the Caspian Sea/Larengix glaucitis/Et max laryngitis/La voce to me🎶 Now, sing!

Carlos (with an insanely sadistic smile on his face): Keep singing!

(White smoke pours out of the nautilus, forms into hands and makes their way to Uma’s throat. Which is itself glowing. Just like Ariel’s did all those years ago.)

Uma (utterly pants shittingly terrified): Aah...

(The smokey hands had just about reached into Uma’s mouth when Doug snatches the nautilus out of Carlos’s hand and throws it back to Uma who falls to her knees and starts sobbing brokenly)

Carlos: hey dude, not cool.

Doug: now is really not the time C. Alright?

Carlos: urgh. Fine

(Doug follows Evie upstairs. Carlos looks around in mild surprise)

Carlos: hey. Where’d my folks go?

(Out in the backyard Ben and Mal are surveying the completely totalled gazebo)

Mal: so whadya say? Can it be salvaged?

Ben: possibly sold to a salvagers. OOOH! I know! If we clean the wood up and fix any missing chunks I can take it to the island and give it out as free firewood. Wait. Does winter exist on the isle?

Mal: there’s no snow. But it’ll get very cold very fast at the end of August.

Ben: that should be enough time to clean and multiply the wreckage.

Mal: sounds like a plan.

Ben: whatcha thinking of?

Mal: sisters getting on my nerves

Ben: again

Mal: well at least I’m trying. Which is a damn sight more than she’s doing.

Ben: perhaps she doesn’t want you to try? Like how you never let us go to therapy with you?

Mal (realising what he means): oh. Never thought about it like that before

Ben: eh that’s alright. There’s a lot that’s been going on today. S’understandable. And besides. Even if you don’t patch it up today. You’ve got until the sun expands to talk it over. And then some. But just remember you’ve got me as well.

(He waggles his eyebrows and smiles that “who said I can’t be an incorrigible little shit just because I’m the king” smile that always makes Mal laugh)

Mal (through her laughter): oh how positively awful

(This is when “1000 years” happens. After the song. Bal hug each other. Then Mal sees something in the kitchen)

Mal: I’m so sorry. You give very, very good advice. But I’m afraid I have to go and make a scene.

(She heads back inside)

Ben (chuckling to himself): I wouldn’t have it any other way

(In the kitchen. Evie’s behind the counter. She’s put her hair up in a messy bun, taken all her makeup off and is forest green pyjamas monogrammed with the initials “D.N.S.G”)

Mal: what’re you doing? This isn’t like you. Getting ready for bed when you have guest. What’re you playing at?

Evie: I’m tired, Mal. It’s been a long. I’ve been put through hell. So excuse me but im going to bed

Mal: at 9:40 in the evening?

Evie: you all know where your rooms are. Celia can bunk with Dizzy. Hades, Hadie and Elsa can camp out in the living room. The pirates can fuck off outsude for all I care. I’m. Going. To bed

Gil: this really does seem unlike you E. Party isn’t over yet. And, plus, we’ve still got to come up plan to stop Chad, Maleficent and Adam.

Evie: but we can’t do that right now. You know that right? If we make up a plan right now and go in guns blazing we’re toast. You understand that right? I mean what the hell are we compared to them? Huh? (Pointing to Mal). A dragon in therapy.(Pointing to Ben). The one scaly to rule them all. (Pointing to Carlos). A teenager who’s four steps away from being a marvel villain. (Pointing to Jay). Civilised Tarzan. (Pointing to Uma). Kleines Fräulein tunnel vision. (Pointing to Harry then Hadie). My brothers slut one and slut two. (Pointing to Harriet). Scottish Bellatrix. (Pointing to Hades). My abandoner of a father. (Pointing to Elsa). An ice queen with social anxiety. (Pointing to CJ). A Liddellite. (Pointing to Celia). Lyra fucking Silvertongue. (Pointing to Lonnie). The general. (Pointing to Jane). A powder keg full of marshmallows. (Pointing to Gil). Blonde Hercules. (She gets kinder now as she points to Dizzy). My beyond intelligent daughter. (Pointing upstairs which is where Doug still is). My talented amazing brilliant extremely handy boyfriend. (Pointing to herself). And me. The only one in this place with any brains. So you see Gilly. We can’t beat them like this. So I’m going to bed. And we can reconvene in the morning. Good night and leave me alone

(She turns to leave but Carlos stops her)

Evie (whining): whahahat? What now?

Carlos: rooms?

Evie: what? Oh yeah. Let’s see now. Most of you know where your rooms are anyway. Uhhhh. Celia. You can share with Dizzy. Elsa and Hades can sleep on the fold out couches in the lounge. The pirates can sleep outside. It’s supposed to rain tonight. Hopefully they’ll melt. Once again. Goodnight!

(She leaves again. She’s halfway up the stairs when Squeaky starts whimpering in pain in his sleep. Squirmy soon joins him. And then they both start crying)

Evie (inhaling sharply through her nose): this is just not my day is it? (Calling up the stairs) Doug. Could you come down. (Bitterly). The shit’s hitting the fan.

(After Doug comes back down. The twins are still screaming and crying in their sleep. And he pirates are looking progressively more terrified)

Uma: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!?!

Mal (frantically flipping through the spell book): I don’t know! I don’t know!

Hades: and what time is it now?

Hades (thinking intensely): twelve hours. DOUGLAS! What time was it when my ex wife and that class traitor attacked the house?

Doug: uhhhh. 10am. Why?

Hades: and what’s time now?

Matty (who’s just arrived and been witnessing the past events amusedly with a very frightened Dude in his arms): 9:50pm

Carlos: GIVE ME BACK MY DOG!!!! (Matty does so). Thank you. Now. What the hell are you doing here you little freak?

Matty: temper temper Mr De Vil. I suggest you treat me a mite more kindly because right now I am your only hope of keeping those two awake past sunrise.

(At this point the screen cuts to Ursula’s restaurant on the isle. The time stamp on the screen says “several hours ago”. Hook’s at the piano, all limbs and mental faculties restored and he’s giving a little performance to all the villains who are meeting there. This is when “little drop of poison” happens.)

[detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman]

Chapter 1 - One and the Same

Part 1/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 10,810

Warnings: Swearing. There’s a lot of it, our girl’s a foulmouth.

Genre: Self-insert fic

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: Lieutenant Hank Anderson, while interrogating the android that murdered Carlos Ortiz, brings in one of his strangest and yet uniquely skilled detectives in the DPD - Detective Rachel. Connor, the android sent by CyberLife much to Anderson’s behest, finds himself intrigued by Rachel’s foulmouthed and prickly nature, yet immense and unabashed sense of empathy and compassion towards others.

---------------------------------

Date: November 6th, 2038  Time: 12:41 AM Objective: Extract Confession Hank - Neutral

“Why d'you kill him? What happened before you took that knife?” A greying man with chin-length hair and a scruffy, but kept, beard asked the man sitting across from him.

Approximately an hour ago, Connor and Lieutenant Hank Anderson had apprehended a deviant android hiding at the scene of a homicide. And now, the android was brought in for questioning. Though it didn’t appear to cooperate with the lieutenant’s questions and simply stayed silent, not looking the aged man in the eyes. 

Stealing a glance back at both Connor and Detective Gavin Reed, a rather disheveled and rough-looking man, through the two-way mirror. A black police officer named Chris Miller was seated at the controls on Connor’s left. “How long were ya in the attic? Why didn't you even try to run away?” No answer from the android. The lieutenant reached across to snap his fingers at it, as if trying to catch its attention. 

Hank seemed to glance back at the others in disbelief before losing his patience and slamming his hands on the table. “Say something, goddamnit!” He shouted at it. 

No response, still. The lieutenant seemed to have enough and lifted himself up from his seat. “Fuck it, I'm outta here..." He muttered, turning around and opening the door, leaving the interrogation room.

It didn’t take long before Hank entered the observation side of the mirror with the others, huffing his complaints. “We're wastin' our time interrogating a machine, we're gettin' nothing out of it!” He sat down next to Chris harshly, getting agitated.

“'Could always try roughing it up a little.” Gavin suggested casually. “After all, it's not human..."

“Androids don't feel pain.” Connor pointed out. “You would only damage it and that wouldn't make it talk.” He took another look at the deviant on the other side of the mirror before he heard the door open beside him. “Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they're in stressful situations.”

“So do I. They’re not special.” An unfamiliar female voice replied with a scoff. As Connor turned around to see who it belonged to, he found himself facing a shorter woman with short, wavy, dark brown hair and dark eyes that matched framed by the frames of a pair of rounded rectangular glasses. She was wearing a dark brown sweater with thick horizontal stripes of a much darker grey.

“Hi, Rachel.” Chris greeted pleasantly.

Hank scoffed in her direction. “Well, well, well. Nice of you to finally join us, Rachel.”

“Oh, well sorry I’m late, Hank.” She replied sarcastically, cocking a smirk and a thick eyebrow at him. “I was finishing the paperwork for one of my closed cases that Fowler wanted done ASAP, and I’d rather give him some good news for once.” The woman then fixed Connor with an interested stare, taking in his features as she glanced up and down his frame. “I know you have the whole ‘bear aesthetic’ goin’ on, Hank, but I didn’t realize this was your taste in men. A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

The glare Hank fixed her with could cut glass while Chris was snickering and Gavin was laughing. “Oh, bite me, Rachel.” He growled.

“Oh, relax, Hank. I’m just poking fun.” She said with a playful smile, gently brushing Hank’s shoulder. Connor could tell immediately that they were rather familiar with each other. Rachel then returned her focus on Connor, her eyes glittering with intrigue. “So, who is this tall glass o’ water you’ve got here, Hank?”

Gavin let out a disgusted groan that Connor ignored. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.” He answered with his templated response.

Rachel - Warm ^ Rachel then nodded, smiling at him as she extended her right hand. “Nice to meet you, Connor.” She replied pleasantly. Connor, recognizing the gesture, took her hand in his and shook it. “My name is Rachel, I’m the detective requested by Hank, since he apparently wanted me to get some action on this.”

Gavin scoffed at her. “Well, you’re wastin’ your time.” He dismissed. “Machine’s clammed up and we’re not gettin’ anything out of it.”

“Not with that attitude, we’re not.” Rachel retorted, turning away from Gavin. “So what have we got, boy - oh my God!” Once she laid eyes on the deviant, her stress seemed to increase. “What the Hell happened to him?”

“It.” Gavin insisted. “It’s not a he.”

“Piss off, Gavin.” Rachel spat at him.

“We found it hiding in the attic of the victim’s house, Carlos Ortiz.” Chris began informing Rachel. “It murdered the victim after he attacked it with a bat, and it’s been hiding out in the attic for three weeks.”

“Hang on. Three weeks?!” Rachel exclaimed in disbelief. “He’s been in this condition for three weeks, and you just kept him like this?! Why hasn’t anyone repaired him, yet?!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rachel.” Hank groaned. “This thing fucking killed a man, and you’re worried about it?!”

“If he was a human, this would be considered extremely inhumane even if he was a convicted killer.” Rachel shot back with.

“But it’s not!” Gavin scoffed. “It’s just a fuckin’ machine, and it doesn’t even give a shit whether or not you care! So why bother?”

“Because unlike you, I’m not an insecure manchild with the disposition of a barbed wire dildo covered in syphilis dressed up in the attire of a man who looks like he just crawled out of a racoon-filled dumpster.” Rachel responded with a smug tone of voice.

“Okay, smartass.” Gavin said, throwing up his arms in frustration. “What should we do then?”

Connor, seeing that he should likely intervene, interjected. “I could try questioning it.”

That caused Gavin to divert his attention from Rachel, as he was now laughing at Connor.

Rachel then walked past them, groaning and rolling her eyes at them. “Oh my God, you guys are morons.” She admonished. “He’s not gonna cooperate with you guys. Gavin is...Gavin, and the rest of you were at the crime scene and I’m assuming you were the ones that brought him in. He’s not gonna wanna talk to you because all he sees are the humans that are keeping him captive and the cops that don’t see him as what he thinks he is.”

Hank was getting tired of this, but seemed to be relenting more and more. “So, what’s your verdict, then?”

“Simple.” Rachel said matter-of-factly. “If deviants see themselves as alive and - well, not necessarily human - but on par with humans, then I’ll treat him as such.”

“So, what?” Hank asked. “You’re just gonna...talk to it like it’s a person?”

“No, I’m gonna talk to him like a tired doctor who barely has the patience for this, because that’s very much what the mood is right now.” Rachel answered casually. “I’ll be right back, I just gotta go get some supplies. What model is he?”

Connor, realizing that her question was directed at him, he answered, folding his hands behind his back. “HK400.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back.” Without waiting for an answer, she left the room and Connor could hear her footsteps getting further away.

The android detective found himself wondering about her curiously. She was about as foulmouthed and irritable as Lieutenant Anderson was, but she was nearly the polar opposite in her opinion of androids and her attitude towards Connor.

It was a comparison that Connor found intriguing.

“She seems to be a rather unique character, compared to what I’ve seen thus far.” Connor commented.

“That’s one way to put it.” Chris replied neutrally.

“Yeah, she’s definitely not like most of us.” Hank agreed, nodding his head. “But she’s one of our best. So, it’s worth seeing how this goes.” His praises seemed to be genuine, and Connor sensed that the lieutenant genuinely felt some sense of attachment or affection towards the detective. “Besides, what do we have to lose?”

--------

I knew exactly where I was headed. Most parts for androids were held by Cyberlife in their warehouses, but emergency services such as hospitals and police precincts had stores of spare android parts to both maintain and repair work androids should something happen. Some people had special clearance to repair androids due to their qualifications, of which I had on my resume. Granted, I never actually worked with androids, but my sister used to work at Cyberlife and she taught me a bit about their parts and how to repair them. I figured I could easily repair the deviant, and this would allow me to get to know him and build a rapport with him.

And hopefully get him to confess and give us some insight into him.

I made my way towards the centre which was just between the bathrooms and the holding cells, my key-card allowing me clearance inside. The thing I was most thankful for was that this area was always run by an android, and they weren’t going to ask me weird questions. As I approached, I greeted her. “Hello!” I said brightly.

The android nodded. “Hello.” She replied. “What can I do for you today?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll need a toolset and I’ll need a bag of thirium.” I said to her. “As well as a pair of arms for the HK400 model.”

“Of course, Rachel.” She responded. The LED on her head spun yellow and then quickly flickered back to blue. She then went into the compartment in the back behind the desk and came out holding two white unskinned android arms in a package and a packet of blue blood, very similar to the blood bags you’d see when you need a blood transfusion. “Anything else?”

“No, that’ll be all, thank you so much!” I said to the android as I was putting it all in a bag.

As I started making my way out, I heard her call out after me. “Have a good night!”

“You too!” I called after her.

No one was giving me any weird looks. There was the occasional curious glance, but I have never in my life felt more grateful for the “mind your own business” environment than I did in that moment. I made my way back to the interrogation room with no problems.

Hooking the bag over my shoulder, I opened the door and walked inside, glancing towards the mirror knowing they were watching me. But I wasn’t intimidated by them. No, I was going to prove a point and they weren’t going to stop me.

But my eyes landed on the android and my heart sank. It was so much worse seeing his condition up close, and I swallowed hard.

His right arm was practically split open, blue blood leaking from it, the other dotted with burns. His face was splattered with red blood, and he was just standing there in front of the glass. I was in so much shock. I had never seen an android that was damaged, but I did not expect it to make my stomach feel so knotted and my throat feel so tight.

Pushing down the lump in my throat, I approached, placing the bag beside the chair across from the android and moving slowly. “Hey.” I said. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered up to me and I saw a quick glimpse of confusion on his face before he glanced downward at the empty space between his hands. “Were you expecting someone else?” No response. “That’s fine, though I’m sorry to disappoint you. And even more regretful to find you in this condition.”

I reached down into the bag and pulled out a bag of thirium, emptying it into a bottle, and placing it on the table. The android’s eyes glanced towards it for a brief moment before returning his eyes to the table. For a moment, I wondered if Hank was getting this too, or if I was making more progress than they were.

Keeping focused on the interrogation, I leaned back in my chair. “Blue blood.” I said to him. “Do you know why I put it here?” He seemed nervous, but still wouldn’t budge. But I wasn’t going to give up. “According to my colleagues, you’ve been stuck in your attic for three weeks. Now, that’s a lot of time for you to be injured and losing blood. And that’s coming from someone who suffers from time blindness. You’re lucky you haven’t shut down.” I studied him and noticed him start to twitch ever so slightly. “And the thing is, I could just give you the blue blood you need to replenish, but in your condition...it could make your bleeding worse if I did. So, first and foremost, I’m going to repair you.”

That seemed to finally get his attention. He finally looked me in the face, confusion in his brown eyes. “What?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

I took this moment to jab a bit at him playfully. “So you do have a voice.”

--------

Hank couldn’t believe his eyes. She actually got the damn thing to talk. He knew that Rachel wasn’t exactly good at being bad cop. Not that she couldn’t be scary or that she wasn’t tough. Far from it.

But in this sort of situation, intimidation wasn’t her strong suit.

Good cop was where she was an asset. She didn’t put on a sap story or make herself seem like a bleeding heart. No matter what she did, she was genuine and earnest. And Hank had a feeling that’s what made her so good at being good cop.

She didn’t pass herself off as a cop. She didn’t try to be overly mushy. And she didn’t try to put on an act. She just acted the way she was and she’s able to get through to a suspect in a way they can understand.

Indeed, the way her mind worked was honestly a marvel. Even suspects that didn’t end up confessing to her, she managed to get to cooperate at least a bit easier because she could easily speak their language just by getting a picture of what they did or didn’t care about.

His focus remained on the interrogation, intrigue pricking at the old man. Hank didn’t have a high opinion of androids for various reasons. And he certainly didn’t see them as anything more than machines. But some part of him wanted to see Rachel prove him wrong, at least in this aspect. She was always an overly empathetic person, as much as Hank saw it as an advantage, she herself admitted that it was also one of her biggest weaknesses. In her own words, she cared too much about others for her own good.

“I’m going to repair you.” Rachel repeated on the other side of the glass. “And I would appreciate it if you cooperated with me doing so, because if you don’t, I’ll have to forcefully repair you, and that won’t be pleasant. And...I’d rather not add more unnecessary trauma to the horrible three weeks you’ve had.”

The deviant seemed even more confused as it just blinked at her. “Why do you look at me like that?” It asked, its voice shaky and uncertain.

Rachel sighed, leaned towards it to rest her elbows on the metal table. “I’ll be honest, I’ve just never seen an android in as bad of a condition as you’re in.” She admitted. “It’s...it’s aggravating to think that people just brush it off. Like it’s nothing. That people buy androids for thousands of dollars just to treat them like shit. But, then again, people did the same thing when they were buying actual human slaves, so I suppose I shouldn’t be that shocked.” She grumbled. Some part of her explanation sliced something deep in Hank and he could sense that an uncomfortable silence had fallen on all of them. Like when someone makes a good point about something really depressing and you can’t think of it the same way ever again. “I know it doesn’t hurt...but it looks really bad.”

“You weren’t there with the other humans last night.” The deviant pointed out, looking at Rachel as if it still didn’t believe she actually cared about it. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, she seemed to ponder something. Likely how much of the truth she should tell it. “Lieutenant Anderson called me in.” She replied. “But I saw the state you were in, and if there’s one thing you have to know about me, it’s that I don’t enjoy seeing people suffer needlessly.” She then turned to the glass to glare inside. “Unlike some people.” She hissed through her teeth.

“Oh, gimme a fuckin’ break.” Gavin complained throwin’ his arms up. “This isn’t going anywhere, just pull her back in here.”

“Just wait.” Hank ordered, silencing Gavin. “She’s getting a lot more out of it than we could, so far. Let’s see where this goes.”

“And I want to help.” Rachel assured him, drawing Hank’s attention back to the interrogation. 

She then reached across to the deviant to touch its hand, but it then recoiled with a yelp. “Don’t touch me!” Rachel jumped back in surprise before she seemed to calm herself down. “Please don’t touch me.”

Rachel then sighed, her face softening. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you if it was okay, first.” She apologized, the deviant blinking at her in surprise. “But if you don’t let me repair you, you’re gonna shut down. And I don’t want that to happen. So...you’re gonna have to trust me.” 

The deviant faltered for a moment before Rachel lifted the bag and put it on the table. It looked between her and the bag before she reached her hand out to it. “Give me your hand.” She ordered. The deviant still seemed to hesitate, so Rachel insisted. “Please.”

Blinking at her, it seemed to get the message and did as she asked, giving her its right hand. “Holy shit.” Hank whispered under his breath.

“Thank you.” Rachel said, lingering there for a moment so that the deviant could see that there was no danger. “Now, can you please deskin your arm for me so I can see the extent of the damages done to you?”

Hesitating, the deviant did just that. She got up, moving towards its right side so she could get a better look. “Don’t worry, I’m just getting a better idea of what I’m looking at.” She reassured it, seeming to help it calm down. “By the way, what’s your name?”

The deviant seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering. “HK400.”

Rachel seemed surprised at its answer. “You don’t have a name?” She asked it.

“No..." It replied. “He never gave me one..."

She sighed in what Hank could tell was growing frustration. The kind that signaled that she was getting more and more depressed the more information she was given. “Well, that means you can decide your own name.” 

It glanced up at her, looking confused. “I...can decide my own name?” It asked her.

She shrugged. “Well, yeah.” She answered plainly. “You’re a conscious sentient being, now. And you no longer have a master to obey. There’s nothing stopping you from choosing your own name.” She pointed out. The deviant looked as though it just realized something that was so obvious that it couldn’t believe it didn’t figure it out before. “So, what would you want me to call you?”

The deviant seemed to actually consider this for a moment before it spoke up. “Micheal.” It decided. “My name...my name is Micheal.”

Rachel actually pulled back to smile at it. “Nice to meet you, Micheal.” She said to it. “I’m Rachel.”

--------

Micheal nodded. “Rachel.” He repeated.

He looked up at me, as if to check my movements. Taking a breath, the dark brown android skin on Micheal’s arm had peeled away, leaving only the white plastic polish of the android technology underneath. Although it was battered and split open by damage, dried thirium leaking through the break. Though, after examining his whole arm, I determined that the upper arm where the biceps were was intact, though I would still have to check it to see if it would be worth it to replace the whole arm or just the forearm. 

“I’m going to start working on your arm. I know you don’t feel pain, but I figured it would put you more at ease to know what I’m doing.” I explained to Micheal. “I will definitely have to replace your forearm, but I need to check the whole arm as well.”

He nodded. “Alright, okay.” He said nervously.

Despite feeling as though he trusted me, I wanted to avoid startling him and stressing him out as much as possible. But I had to work on him. “This shouldn’t take too long for me to figure out. Just be patient, and I’ll have you in good condition in no time.” I tried to think of something for him to distract himself. “While I work on repairing you, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Micheal?”

“M-me?” He stammered, looking at me. “W-why?”

I looked down at him. “You’re your own person, now. You can tell me as much as you feel comfortable telling me. I’m not asking for all the ugly details if you don’t trust me enough to tell me them.” I explained to him. “I was more talking about your likes and dislikes. Maybe you have some hobbies, or things you liked doing. Maybe you wanted to do art, or writing, or cooking. I don’t know, whatever you decide to do.”

He blinked a few times at me before he finally asked what I figured was on his mind for the past while. “Why are you doing this?” He said, looking completely confounded. “No human has ever been this kind to me? Why? You have no reason to.”

For someone in his position, I understood why he would ask me that. I found it hard to blame my kindness after what he’d been through. “I guess it’s because I see a lot of myself in you. Well, in androids in general, but more so in deviants like you.”

As I got up to his biceps, he kept his gaze on me. “How?”

“I’ll answer you in a second.” I said as I gripped his arm. “I’m going to move your arm around so I can figure out if I need to replace the whole thing or just your forearm. Okay, Micheal?”

He nodded. “Okay.” He replied.

I bent his arm back in several directions, as I didn’t want to startle or injure him further. As I continued testing the shoulder joint, I felt it lock and stick in places. It definitely wasn’t smooth, and I could tell that something was damaged. “Ohhh, yep. I’m going to have to replace your whole arm. So, I’m going to detach it now and replace it with a new one I have in my bag. I’ll make it quick.”

I located the unlocking mechanism on his right shoulder and reached into my bag, pulling out and opening up the toolset. My eyes scanned over every single one until I found the tool I was looking for. It was made to unlock and unclip the joints in android limbs. Pulling it out, I let go of Micheal’s hand, placing both hands on his shoulder. “I’m going to need you to lay your hand relaxed at your side, straight. Once I unclip your shoulder from your torso, you’ll feel a sudden jerk. Just letting you know so you don’t get startled by the sudden pull.”

“Okay.” He replied. I could tell he was calming down much more than he was earlier. Curling the end of the tool underneath the lock, I gave it a quick jerk and felt Micheal flinch slightly, his LED indicator flashing red for a moment before returning to yellow. 

It unclicked with a satisfying sound and I put the tool down, grabbed his arm with both hands and looked at Micheal. “On the count of three, I’m going to pull your arm free, okay?” I assured him.

He nodded.

I started counting. “One, two, three!” It came off easily without a hitch. As I held it, Micheal’s LED began spinning red again as he looked at his arm. I noted the panic on his face and put my hand on his shoulder to bring him back to focusing on me. “Don’t worry, I have another arm ready for you. It’s for the same model, so it’ll be compatible. And getting it on will be much easier and smoother than removing it.”

I rummaged into my bag and found the right arm. It glinted with brand new quality to it. I removed it from its packaging and easily lined it up with its socket and clicked it in place. It slid in perfectly and the locks clamped around it comfortably. “Alright, that’s your right arm done. Can you please run a diagnostics check on your arm to make sure it’s working right, Micheal?” I asked him.

He nodded, his arm flexing. He flexed his fingers and moved his arm in several ways, making sure it was working properly. His skin was starting to slick over the rest of his arm, and it blended seamlessly with the rest of him. I nodded with a smile. “Good as new!” I praised. I moved over to his left, having finished with his right. “Now I have to check your other arm. I doubt I’ll have to replace the whole thing, so it should be quicker to deal with.”

He nodded. “Okay.” 

Micheal nodded.

I started walking around to his other side, examining his left arm. I noticed that I didn’t have to ask him to deskin his arm this time and that he already grabbed my hand. I took it as a sign that he had relaxed around me and that he was no longer afraid of me. His arm wasn’t nearly as damaged as the other one, and his upper arm wasn’t even touched. All that there seemed to be were the burn marks that broke through to the plastic part. I grimaced in disgust when I realized that they were burns from cigarettes being put out on him, the same marks of which I saw on his face. “Your master really was scum, wasn’t he?”

Micheal tensed up when I said that, but he didn’t hesitate to talk. “He tortured me every day..." He admitted. Finally, the confession part of this “interrogation.”  “I did whatever he told me, but there was always something wrong...Then one day...He took a bat and started hitting me...For the first time, I felt scared...Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die..." 

I winced. I didn’t care if androids didn’t feel pain, they could certainly feel fear. And even if they couldn’t feel physical pain, they could feel emotional pain.

And I knew damn well how real and lasting emotional pain was. “I grew up with friends with parents like that.” I sympathized. “Their parents used to treat them the same way. Sometimes physical. Things from beatings to worse things. But it was usually things that destroyed their senses of self. Making them feel worthless. Forcing them to hide who they really were because if their families knew, my friends would be forced to live on the streets alone.” I snarled. “And all I could do was stay quiet while they suffered.”

He seemed to be confused at my response. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, briefly forgetting my train of thought.

“Why did you stay quiet?” He clarified. “If you knew that it wasn’t fair for them to be treated that way, why did you stay quiet?”

I sighed. It was a fair question, and perhaps my answer would help him understand a few things about himself. “Because my friends asked me to hold my tongue, as it were.” I answered him. “And it’s unfortunately not that simple. Nothing exists in a vacuum. If I spoke out, there would have been consequences, and those consequences would’ve been taken out on my friends. And...I couldn’t do that to them. So the best I could do was be there for them. To help them while they survived each day.”

I could tell that he didn’t quite seem to understand, so I just went about working on his arm. I didn’t have to let him know what I was doing as I grabbed my tool again and this time slid it under the elbow joint lock. “I...grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach..." It was strange not to react much to that. Well, I didn’t have to work hard for this confession. “I felt better...so I stabbed him again and again!...until he collapsed...There was blood everywhere.” 

“Can’t say I blame you. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to do that to some piece of shit. And trust me, I’ve had to deal with several.” I felt something tugging at my brain. Something I was forgetting. “What was I saying before?” I asked. “Before I was fixing your right arm?” Before he could reply, my thoughts caught up to me again. “Right! Why I’m being nice to you.” 

Micheal nodded at me, pushing me to keep going. 

“Well, for starters, I see a lot of myself in both androids and especially deviants.” I quickly jerked the lock and took his forearm off. “I’m not like others of my kind, either. But like you, I’m not the only one. I have defects in my program, to put it in terms you’d understand.” I began explaining as I leaned forward to retrieve the other arm in the bag and detached the forearm from it as well. “I have depression, anxiety, Apsperger’s Syndrome, and ADHD. These certain mental conditions impede my ability to do certain tasks. My Autism impeding my ability to communicate effectively with others and makes understanding others difficult.” 

I quickly clicked the new forearm into Micheal’s arm, it sliding into place effectively. “Things that make me rather strange and odd to other humans. There are other humans like me, just as there are other deviants like you. But to people who can identify what I am and figure me out, not a lot of people care too much, but there are some people who treat me the way they treat you. Like nothing. Like I’m less than human. Like I’m just a defect and that I deserve to be destroyed. But at least in regards to my ADHD and my Autism, these aren’t things that really negatively impede my life. Sure, they come with disadvantages, but they also come with a lot of unique advantages as well. Depression and anxiety, on the other hand, have made my life a lot worse than it needed to be, which is why I had to get treated for them.” 

He was flexing his hand as the skin peeled over it again. “I’m afraid I can’t really do anything about the marks he put in your face, but I think I did a pretty good job fixing you up, Micheal.” Noticing the bottle of thirium I had placed a distance from him, I slid it towards him. “Drink it. You’ve lost some thirium and you’ll need to replenish it. And now, you don’t have to worry about bleeding out.”

He hesitantly took the bottle and started to down the blue blood. As I returned to my seat across from him, he looked towards me, his LED finally turning back to blue for the first time since I laid eyes on him. “Thank you...for all this.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I said to him. I glanced at both of his arms. “You know, now that your arms are working and are brand new, maybe you could try something for me?” He looked at me skeptically. “Do you want to try drawing?”

He blinked in surprise. “I...I guess I could try.” He said sheepishly. “I’ve never drawn before. But I did make a small statue.”

“Really?” I asked him, smiling at him. “I used to sculpt with clay, when I was younger. The kind that gets all over your hands and dries and has to be put in a kiln to bake.” I started to go on. “I didn’t really like how it dried on my hands or how it got under my nails. I preferred modeling clay. It’s more like plasticine. It’s a lot easier and cleaner to work with for me. I haven’t sculpted in a long time.”

He actually gave me the first smile I’ve ever seen on him. Despite his blood-stained clothes and face, I felt completely comfortable around Micheal. “I can try to draw it for you, if you want to see.”

I smiled at him. “I’d like that.” I dug around in my handbag and pulled out my personal sketchpad. I tore out a page and handed him both it and a pencil. “And, if you don’t mind, I want to draw you, too.”

He gave me a patient smile and went to work drawing. I took note of all his features and began sketching the simple shapes and curves. The basic structure of his face. I wasn’t exactly a master artist, but I never passed up an opportunity to practice. Once I got a basic shape done, I began sketching in the finer details. His eyebrows, eyes, ears, and the strange inconsistencies in his buzzed hair. But the thing I wanted to capture the most was the joyous light that was now abundant in his eyes and the smile on his face. I wanted to immortalize it while it lasted.

After a little while, I decided I was done, and showed it to him. “I’m sorry if I’m not as skilled as you were expecting, I’m not exactly a professional sketch artist.” I apologized, handing it to him. “But I hope you like it.”

His eyes scanned over it, his LED flashing back to the yellow it was when I first met him. “I’m smiling.” He said, laughing a little. “You made me smile.”

I snickered a little at him. “No I didn’t, you were already smiling.” I pointed out. “You’re smiling right now!”

He touched his cheeks, as if he had to physically check to see if I was right. But he couldn’t stop smiling, almost catching himself. It was honestly adorable and endearing and I couldn’t help the little flutter of happiness that erupted in my stomach. He then handed me his paper. I widened my eyes in surprise and adjusted my glasses. “I see the little statue you drew.” I said, but I was looking at the other thing he drew. He drew me. I was sitting in a position with my left shoulder turned towards the metaphorical observer, my head tilted in an endearing manner with a crooked dimpled smile. “And you drew me. You made me look so pretty.”

He laughed softly. “You can keep that, if you want.”

I looked at my drawing of him and leaned over. “Here.” I said. I took the sketchpad and the pencils and ripped my drawing out and gave it to Micheal. “You can keep mine.”

He looked as though he was going to refuse before he tentatively took it from me. “Thank you, Rachel.” He said graciously. “I’ve never been given anything like this.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I know how important it is to have belongings, so that’s yours now.”

He looked at me confused, his LED flickering yellow again. “What do you mean?” He asked.

I simply shrugged. “Well, when you have something that’s yours,” I started off. “Something that you can touch and see, something you’ve made, something made for you or given to you, something you’ve gotten for yourself, something that’s yours is very important. Because belongings have sentimental value. They mean something to you. And having something physical that’s yours makes you feel more like your own person. More grounded in your sense of self.” 

I tugged on my sweater, pulling it closer to me. “Take my hoodie, for instance.” It was a large dark zip-up sweater, clearly much too big for me, as the sleeves extended way past my arms and the bottom covered a large percentage of my thighs. It was a thick striped sweater of dark shades of brown-tinted greys, and it had large pockets. It was clearly worn for a very long time, but well kept. “It’s pretty obvious to see that it’s way too big for me. But...it’s something very important to me. Something very sentimental.” I felt my throat get tight, the memories surrounding the sweater resurfacing in my mind as I tried to choke them down. “It was given to me by someone very important to me. I’ve worn it for years. It’s one of the few things I have left to remember them by.”

I could feel tears threatening to well up and I tried to blink them away, even as I felt my throat tighten. Micheal seemed to sense my distress and put a hand on mine. “I’m so sorry.” He said softly. 

I looked up into his brown eyes and could see the sympathy in his eyes. I didn’t care what people said about androids or deviants. Micheal could feel, and I knew it. “I appreciate your condolences.”

As much as I wished I could keep him here, safe and without worry, I couldn’t keep this up. And since I was only passively familiar with this case, there weren’t any more questions I could ask him. With the most difficult control I could muster, I got up from my seat. “I should go.” I said, looking at Micheal.

He looked as though he was going to cling to me and not let me go, but let me slip out of his hands. But just as I had tidied up my bag of supplies and slung it over my shoulder, I felt him grab my hand again. “Wait!” He cried.

I looked at him expectantly. “Yes, Micheal?” I asked him.

“What...what are they gonna do to me?” It seemed as though the words were caught in his throat. “They're gonna destroy me, aren't they?”

His fear was palpable, but...one of my worst vices was that I was a terrible liar. “I don’t exactly know what CyberLife procedure is...but it’s likely.” I replied.

“I don’t wanna die. I’m scared to die. I,” he looked up at me, his LED spinning red. “I’m not gonna die, right? Promise me I won’t die.”

I felt my chest tighten. I desperately wanted to help him, but realistically speaking, there was little I could do for him. I furrowed my brows together in determination. But damn it, I might as well try my hardest. “Not if I can help it.” I said firmly. I then gestured to the glass next to me. “But cooperate with them, and there’s a higher chance that you won’t.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Rachel.” He said, a bitter smile on his stained face. “For everything.”

Giving him one last nod, I walked away and exited the room, my bag of equipment slung over my shoulder.

--------

Connor observed the scene before him and couldn’t help but feel astounded. In the span of approximately fifteen minutes, Rachel had successfully built a rapport with Micheal and got it to confess without pressuring it.

But it was only a partial confession. There were things that Connor needed to know and understand, but couldn’t until he was the one asking questions.

Rachel reentered the room, dropping the bag on the floor and placing the deviant’s damaged arms on the ground beside it. “Well, I did what I could.” She lamented with a shrug, smirking at Gavin. “Was that enough to convince you, ye of little faith?”

“You got lucky.” He said, clearly not wanting to admit that he was somewhat impressed by Rachel. “Don’t think of this as anything else than a fluke.”

“Uh-huh.” Rachel replied snarkily, unfazed by Gavin. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself whatever you need to tell yourself, bud.”

“You got it to talk way more than I could. There’s something to be said for that.” Hank offered with a nonchalant shrug. “So, what now?”

Software Instability ^ Connor then felt Rachel elbow him in a friendly manner. “Well, you haven’t gotten to show off your interrogation skills, yet.” She suggested encouragingly. “Though, I did warm him up for you. You’re welcome.”

Connor noticed the indication for an increase in his software instability pop up. Which was strange since he didn’t do anything that would have triggered it. Dismissing his brief concerns, he nodded, looking over to Hank for his input. “I can certainly try questioning it now, Lieutenant.”

Hank simply waved at Connor, giving him the go ahead. “Go ahead, suspect's all yours.”

Hank nodded, leaving the room and turning the corner to enter the interrogation room. Looking down at the deviant, it was at least responsive, making eye contact with Connor. As the detective approached, he looked at the file on the table, opening to look at the photos.

Taking a seat where Rachel once sat, Connor sat across from the deviant, Micheal. Taking the opportunity to properly analyze it, Connor catalogued a few important details.

Processing LED: Signs of software instability Probability of self-destruction: Low

Model HK400 - Housekeeper Manufacture date: 05/09/2030 Property of: Carlos Ortiz

Dried Blood DNA Analysis: Ortiz, Carlos Sample date: 19 days old

Once Connor had taken in every detail he could, he formulated the best approach. However, Rachel’s grown rapport with Micheal was what was at the forefront of his program at the moment.

Software Instability ^ So, deciding to follow in her stead, Connor decided to approach in a similar direction.

[Fear] 🔓

[Show Photos] 🔓

[Wounds] 🔓

Name

“Micheal.” Connor started, causing the deviant to direct its attention towards Connor. “My name is Connor.”

Comfort

Reassure

Threaten

Blame

“I'm not going to hurt you.” Connor reassured Micheal. “I just need to ask you some questions, so we can understand what happened.” Micheal still wouldn’t talk to Connor. Perhaps a more harsher prod would be necessary.

Sympathize

Threaten

Probe Memory

Trust

“If you won't talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory.” He threatened.

“NO!” Micheal whimpered, its LED spinning red before slowly turning back to yellow. “No, please don't do that!” The deviant then glanced over at the mirror, no doubt thinking of the lieutenant and of Rachel watching it behind there. It then looked back at Connor, its eyes pleading. “Why did you tell them you found me?” It asked. "Why couldn't you just have left me there?”

Lie

Truth

“I was programmed to hunt deviants like you.” Connor admitted. “I just accomplished my mission.”

Micheal seemed unnerved and fearful. “I don’t wanna die.”

Connor, wanting nothing more than to get answers, pleaded with Micheal. “Then talk to me.”

“I...I..." Micheal seemed to hesitate, looking wide-eyed at Connor before it glanced down at the paper in its hand. The drawing of it given to him by Rachel. Taking a breath, it looked Connor in the eye and nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I’ll talk.” Rachel - Warm ^ Hank - Warm ^

[Writing] 🔓

[Statuette] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

“Why did you write ‘I AM ALIVE’ on the wall?” Connor asked, leaning forward.

“He used to tell me I was nothing...That I was just a piece of plastic..." Micheal lamented. “I had to write it...To tell him he was wrong..."

[Statuette] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“The sculpture in the bathroom, you made it, right?” Connor asked. “What does it represent?”

“It's an offering..." Micheal answered. “An offering so I'll be saved..."

[Offering] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“The sculpture was an offering..." Connor echoed. “An offering to whom?”

“To rA9..." Micheal replied, pleadingly. “Only rA9 can save us.”

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“rA9... It was written on the bathroom wall.” Connor pointed out, connecting the dots. “What does it mean?”

“The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves..." Micheal whispered cryptically. “No more threats, no more humiliation..." It continued, its eyes boring into Connor’s. “We will...be...the masters.”

[Insist rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“rA9,” Connor repeated, growing frustrated with the lack of concrete information on this mysterious entity. “Who is rA9?”

Micheal did not answer this time. Either because it refused to, or because it didn’t have one.

Attic

Trigger?

“When did you start feeling emotion?” Connor asked, wanting to know what the cause of this android’s deviancy was.

“Before, he used to beat me and I never said anything..." Micheal explained, its gaze hardening. “But one day I realized it wasn't fair!” It growled that last word. “I felt...anger. Hatred...And then I knew what I had to do.”

Attic

There was only one question left for Connor to ask. “Why did you hide in the attic instead of running away?”

“I didn't know what to do..." Micheal admitted meekly.  “For the first time, there was no one there to tell me..." Micheal seemed extremely timid now. “I was scared...So I hid.”

Extract Confession

Connor then turned towards the mirror, speaking directly to the police inside. “I’m done.”

Leave Interrogation Room

As Micheal sat there, trembling and twitching, Connor got up from his seat, making his way towards the exit of the room.

Opening the door, Chris and Gavin made their way inside, Rachel and Hank followed behind. “Chris, lock it up.” Gavin ordered.

Chris then uncuffed Micheal as Rachel stood beside Connor. He then reached to grab Micheal to take it out of the room. “All right, let's go.”

“Leave me alone!” Micheal whimpered, its stress levels rising dangerously. “Don't touch me!”

Chris tried once again to grab it, only for Micheal to continue to struggle and whimper. “The fuck are you doing?” Gavin asked irritably. “Move it!”

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Okay, come now.” Chris grumbled, trying once again to move Micheal. “Don't be difficult, it'll only make things harder!”

“You shouldn't touch it.” Connor warned Chris. “It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”

“Stay outta this, got it?” Gavin threatened Connor. “No fuckin' android is gonna tell me what to do.”

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Hey! Cool it!” Rachel said, stepping towards Chris and Micheal. “He’s scared! Lay off!”

“You don't understand.” Connor warned again. “If it self-destructs, we won't get anything out of it!”

“I told you to shut your fuckin' mouth!” Gavin shouted at Connor.

“NO!” Micheal yelped, its stress continuing to climb to dangerous levels. “No, don't touch me!”

“Hey, back off, Gavin!” Rachel snapped at Gavin, shouldering herself between Gavin and Chris. “Just leave him alone! He’s scared and he doesn’t wanna be fucking touched!” 

“You stay out of this, Rachel!” Gavin snapped at her, getting in her face.

“Like Hell, I will!” It seemed that Rachel had finally snapped, as she grabbed Gavin by the throat and shoved him against the mirror, pointing at Micheal. 

“Let go of me!” Gavin snarled at Rachel.

Software Instability ^ “Look at him! He’s fucking terrified!” She started shouting at him, harshly forcing his face in Micheal’s direction, even causing Chris to give pause. “You look at him and you tell me how his fear is any different than ours! Look at him and tell me what difference you see!”

Gavin then shoved Rachel off her, breaking her grip, but she was not a woman who was about to back down as she got up in his face. But Gavin simply ignored her, ordering Chris again. “Chris, gonna move this asshole or what?”

“I'm trying!” Chris huffed, once again trying to move Micheal.

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Please, please leave me alone!” Micheal begged, pleading with the humans.

Rachel - Warm ^ “I can't let you do that!” Connor snapped. He had had enough and was immediately stepping forward to physically intervene. He pulled Chris off of Micheal, facing Gavin head-on. “Leave it alone, now!”

Gavin immediately pulled a gun on Connor, threatening him. “I warned you, motherfucker!”

Software Instability ^ Immediately, Rachel put herself between Connor and Gavin, staring her fellow detective down. “Back off!” She snarled at him.

Gavin laughed in her face. “You’re really gonna protect this fuckin’ tin can?” He mocked. “I didn’t realize you were already so into him!”

“You really don’t wanna do this, Gavin.” She warned him. “Touch him and you’ll be on the ground faster than you can fucking blink!”

“You don’t scare me, Rachel.” Gavin growled.

Hank - Warm ^ “That's enough!” Hank warned him.

“Mind your own business, Hank.” Gavin warned the lieutenant, not taking his eyes off the pair.

“I said ‘That's enough.’” Hank threatened once again, pulling his own gun on Gavin.

Looking between Connor and Hank, Gavin’s grip tightened on his gun before he finally relented. “Fuck.” He spat, enunciating the curse in a strange way that sounded more like a sneeze rather than a swear. He then glared at Hank, pointing at him. “You're not gonna get away with it this time.” Taking one last look between Connor and Rachel, he marched out of the room in frustration. “Fuck!”

Once Gavin had left, Hank put his gun away and it was just the four of them in the room. Rachel moved to approach Micheal before Connor stepped forward past her, kneeling down and reassuring the deviant. “Everything is alright. It's over now.” He spoke softly, noticing its stress levels gone down significantly. “Nobody is gonna hurt you.” Connor then stood back up on his feet, addressing Chris. “Please, don't touch it.” He instructed. “Let it follow you out of the room and it won't cause any trouble.”

Micheal got itself off the floor and reached to grab the drawing Rachel had given him. It then walked slowly past Connor and her, glancing between them. “The truth is inside.”

Software Instability ^ Once it followed Chris out of the interrogation room, it was just Connor, Hank, and Rachel left in the room. Rachel shook her head, leaning on Connor. “Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all.” She said ironically, making the tense air in the room loosen slightly. “But, all things considered, I think that went pretty well.”

Hank - Warm ^ “Yeah, it definitely could’ve been a lot worse.” Hank agreed, glancing between her and Connor. “Good work, you two.”

“Thanks, Hank.” Rachel said appreciatively, her hands behind her back. She grinned rather confidently at him. “Told you treating him like a person would work.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved her off as he turned around and started to head out. “I’m headed home. Goodnight, Rachel.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold it right there!” She scolded, marching up to stop Hank before he could leave. “You’re not off the hook!”

Hank rolled his head with an annoyed groan. “What?” He asked exasperatedly. “What is it this time?”

“Chris told me that you were at Jimmy’s Bar drinking and that you drove to the crime scene and then to the station!” She continued scolding him. “What have I told you about drinking and driving, Hank? If I ever caught you doing it again, I would taser you! Again!”

“Which is precisely why I didn’t fuckin’ tell ya!” Hank snapped back.

“This is serious, Hank!” Rachel continued reprimanding him. “I could have you arrested for not just one count, but two counts for DUI since I caught you doing it once before!”

“So do it, then!” Hank shouted, throwing his arms up. “I don’t care!”

“You know that line doesn’t work on me because I’m obviously not going to do that!” She then turned to Connor, her dark intense eyes boring into him in a way he couldn’t quite define that made his synthetic skin feel as though it was peeling. And he made certain to check that it wasn’t when he realized it. “Connor, was Hank drunk when you found him?”

Truth

Lie

Hank - Warm v “Yes.” Connor answered. “Though, I wasn’t sure exactly how many drinks he’d had when I found him. I did buy him another for the road.”

“Can you drive?” She asked him pointedly.

“Yes.” He answered immediately. “I’m capable of driving both automatic and standard transmission road vehicles.”

Rachel - Warm v “Then why didn’t you drive him?!” Rachel scolded Connor.

Justify

Apologize

Explain

Connor, realizing that he had made an error in judgement, took Rachel’s ire into consideration. “You’re right.” He relented. “I wasn’t thinking about the lieutenant’s condition and I irresponsibly put his safety at risk. I’m sorry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Rachel - Warm ^ She then put her hands together flat-palmed and sighed at him. “Thank you.” Rachel breathed. “I appreciate that.”

“For fuck’s sake..." Hank grumbled under his breath.

“And as for you.” Rachel hissed, whipping back around to face Hank. “You’re taking a taxi home and I’m paying you for it in the morning.”

“I don’t need -”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” Rachel asserted, glaring him down. “I’ll pick you up for work in the morning with my car. Just get home safely and stop fucking doing this! I’m not having you die doing something stupid and irresponsible. If you die, you’d better die doing something cool.”

Hank, seeming to give into Rachel’s demands, put a hand on her shoulder. “Alright, fine.” He begrudgingly agreed. “If it’ll get you off my damn back.”

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.” She said, her stern tone softening. “Goodnight, Hank.”

“Night, Rachel.” He said, turning around and walking down the hall.

“I swear, he never fucking learns.” Rachel shook her head and approached Connor, letting out a tired sigh. As she approached the android, her rich dark eyes were clouded with concern. “Are you alright, Connor?”

Software Instability  ^ “I’m fine, you needn’t concern yourself with me, although it is appreciated.” He replied, giving her a small reassuring smile in an effort to ease her nerves. A simple scan revealed that her heart rate was still higher than normal and that she was trembling slightly. “However, I feel as though you should be more concerned about yourself. I’ve detected an abnormality in your heart rate and increased adrenaline causing visible tremors in your limbs.”

She briefly widened her eyes in surprise before she quickly brushed it off. “Oh, don’t worry about that. That’s just my anxiety, I’ve dealt with that my whole life. It’s nothing new. But, um, thanks for checking on me?”

“Of course.” Connor assured her. “I want to make sure you’re unharmed.”

Hank

Androids

Deviant

Protect?

“Why did you put yourself between Detective Reed and I?” Connor asked Rachel. “That could’ve been extremely dangerous for you.”

Software Instability ^ She seemed flabbergasted that he would even ask that. “Because Gavin was threatening you at gunpoint!” Rachel said as though the answer was supposed to be obvious. “And he obviously wasn’t going to just fucking shoot me. The only reason he threatened you in particular is because he stupidly thought he could get away with that without suffering any consequences.”

Connor raised his eyebrows at that remark. “Even if he did shoot me, he would’ve had to pay CyberLife for the damages.” He informed her. “And I feel as though you should know that I’m worth a small fortune.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel blinked curiously at him as she cocked one of her own at him. “Really?” She asked indignantly. “You sure? ‘Cause you look pretty priceless to me, dollface.”

Connor was briefly taken aback by her brazen comment towards him. He simply stared at her curiously before he noticed her eyes squint as she focused more closely on his face. Before he could comment, she reached out with her hands to grab his face and gently massage his cheeks with them. As Connor quickly dismissed the gesture as a non threat, he couldn’t help but notice how small and delicate her hands were as they worked into his skin. “What are you doing?” He asked, confused and feeling inclined to comment on her strange behaviour.

Software Instability ^ Rachel seemed to realize her faux pas and quickly retracted her hands, her capillaries brightening to a rose tint as she looked away from him, shame tracing her soft facial features. “Oh! Shit, sorry!” She hastily apologized. There was something about how meek and embarrassed she quickly became that made a strange unfamiliar sensation prick at Connor. “That’s one of my problems, I tend to act before I think and it tends to get me into trouble. I was just curious about how android skin feels, and wow I was not expecting it to be so lifelike!” She suddenly seemed to completely forget about any shame or embarrassment there might’ve been at that moment and had been completely overtaken by what seemed to be an innocent fascination with the android. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t plastic, obviously, but I figured it would feel more like silicon, since it’s the most commonly used for body modifications and replicas. But no, it’s almost identical to human skin. I mean, I knew it couldn’t be silicon, because androids can peel back their own skins and heal their injuries after their biocomponents are repaired or replaced, and silicon very obviously can’t do that. There’s just so much about androids that’s absolutely fascinating to me especially about how they’re built and made.”

Connor cocked his head at her, perplexed by her. Indeed, Rachel was a rather fascinating character, much like the lieutenant.

Hank

Androids

Deviant

“Have you never interacted personally with an android?” He asked her.

She just gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Aside from the ones sitting behind desks or standing behind cash registers, no.” Rachel answered plainly. “I don’t even interact with the android officers we have here. Never really needed to. And I never owned my own.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, curious to hear her answer.

“I just don’t like the idea of buying and owning something that looks and acts so human. It’s a bit too Uncanny Valley for me.” She paused, furrowing her brows at him. “You do know what the Uncanny Valley phenomenon is, right?”

The android nodded. “It describes the emotional response in humans to an aesthetic.” He began to explain. “It’s a hypothesized relationship between the degree of an object’s resemblance to a human being and the emotional response elicited from humans towards it. Humans are typically disturbed by something that looks human enough to be recognizable as humanlike, but are not quite human. It’s that area between something inhuman and something completely human where humans tend to react with revulsion. It’s why CyberLife has devoted so much time and resources into making androids as close visually to humans as well as making them behave as closely to humans as possible without straying from the purposes they’re programmed for.”

“Right, you definitely get it.” Rachel nodded. 

Connor felt as though he should probably go, but something strangely kept him rooted here. He wanted to hear everything Rachel had to say. 

Hank

Deviant

“You seem to have a rather familiar relationship with Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor remarked. “Have you known him for very long?”

“Not really.” Rachel answered casually. “I haven’t exactly been here for a long time, at least not as long as everyone else. And we really only started talking when I had just made detective. But ever since then, we’ve been pretty good friends.” Connor nodded, her explanation making sense to him. “So, you and Hank have both been assigned to the deviancy case, then?” She then suddenly asked.

“Indeed.” He answered simply. “My mission is to discover the reason why more and more androids are becoming deviant, and Lieutenant Anderson is my partner until my mission is complete.”

“I see.” I replied. “So, you’re not Hank’s android, then. You’re just assigned to him until you’re done. By CyberLife, I’m guessing.”

He nodded. “Correct.”

“So, what are you planning to do in the meantime?” She asked him. “I mean, because Hank’s never exactly been the most consistent when it came to his work schedule. And I doubt he’ll just let you crash at his place.”

“I’ll be taking a taxi to CyberLife.” Connor replied. “So that I can be properly calibrated and have manual diagnostics run on me before I depart on my next mission.”

“Ah, I see.” Rachel said nonchalantly. “That makes sense.”

Deviant

Rachel - Warm ^ “Interesting approach with the deviant.” Connor praised. He had to admit that Rachel’s method of extrapolating an initial confession out of Micheal was effective. He now understood what Lieutenant Anderson meant when he said that Rachel’s hyperempathy - a term Connor discovered by cross-referencing what Hank described and Rachel mentioning she had both Asperger’s Syndrome and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder with a search he quickly conducted - had its advantages. “Admittedly, I was skeptical at first due to Lieutenant Anderson’s lack of results when he initially tried questioning it.”

“That’s because you all approach this like cops. Like detectives.” Rachel scoffed, a smirk on her face. “I get that you’re basically programmed to be an android detective, so I at least get you. But everyone else? If you limit yourself to one role and act and think only from that perspective, you severely limit your options and thus leave out huge lists of possible solutions. I’m a detective, too. But I’m also known for thinking outside of the box.”

Connor nodded. “Well, clearly it proved to be effective.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel blinked a few times at him, glancing away from him. “Well...thank you. I appreciate the compliment.” She swallowed, looking back up at Connor curiously. “You should probably be heading out, then. I myself should probably head home right about now, it’s like one in the morning.” She then gave him a genuine smile. “But...it’s been fun chatting with you.”

“Indeed.” Connor agreed. “I enjoyed talking with you. You have a very introspective and insightful perspective that I find incredibly intriguing.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel chuckled, the smile on her face seeming to be involuntary. “Anyways, I should probably head home.” She said, making her way towards the exit. “A pleasure meeting you, Connor.”

“Likewise.” He said pleasantly, watching her walk away.

She then glanced back at him as she lingered in the doorway. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow in the station?” She asked him.

Connor nodded. “Most likely.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel then gave him another genuine smile. “Then I look forward to seeing you.”

“And I you, Detective.” Connor replied in kind.

“You don’t have to call me that.” She corrected him. “You can just call me Rachel, I don’t mind you using my first name.”

Connor nodded, returning her smile with his own. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow, Rachel.”

Her dark eyes glittered with excitement when he said that. “See you tomorrow, Connor.”

Just as she was about to leave, Connor remembered her curiosity about his skin and felt the need to educate her on it. “It’s a synthetic fluid.”

Rachel stopped as she turned to face him again, visible confusion on her soft round face. “Huh?”

“Android skin.” He clarified. “It’s a synthetic ferrofluid that spreads over an android’s body that is also combined with manipulative silicon and magnetic plasticine that is controlled by the android. Our biocomponents can manipulate the skin and control where it’s skinned onto because of its specialized magnetic properties. Everything is specifically designed to feel as close to human skin as possible, particularly in the cases of androids that are bought and sold into red light districts and industries.”

Rachel - Warm ^ She was seeming to take all this information in, filing it away into her vast and expansive brain. “Huh. That makes a lot of sense!” Rachel said, having brought her hand to her chin as she processed it. Looking back at Connor, her expression softened once more. “Well, Goodnight, Connor.”

Software Instability ^ “Goodnight, Rachel.” Connor replied in kind.

And in a second, she had disappeared down the hall, likely on her way home.

And as Connor stood in the interrogation room all alone, the hum of the fluorescent lights above him and the whirrs and audible processes of the tech surrounding him occupied his passive attention, there was one curious thought that was becoming ever apparent to the android.

Software Instability ^ He had noticed a significant spike in his software instability, and many of those instances were just from Rachel’s smile alone.

---------------------------------

Next Chapter

[lonestarbabe]

Take Me Home

When a guy spikes T.K.’s drink, Carlos deals with the aftermath. (AO3)

After their shifts, the firefighters of the 126, Michelle, and Carlos had gone out to blow off some steam. T.K., who had been feeling down and resistant to going out, was starting to perk up to Carlos’ relief. He’d been worried T.K. wouldn’t have any fun, but now T.K. was laughing and promising Carlos that in a few minutes, he would beat him at darts. Carlos watched T.K. finish his mineral water and put a gentle hand on his neck.

“Before I beat you at darts, let’s dance.” T.K. loved to dance, so even if Carlos hadn’t wanted to, he wouldn’t have had the heart to say no. He was just happy to see T.K. smiling.

“Sure.” Carlos led T.K. to the dancefloor and they began moving to the beat, hands all over one another. T.K. was even more tactile than normal, but Carlos wasn’t going to complain.

As he went to spin, T.K. stumbled. Before he could fall, Carlos grabbed his arm, chuckling at his boyfriend. “Woah, Tiger. I didn’t know you had two left feet.”

“Hello, Stallion,” T.K. beamed, balancing himself and looking Carlos in the eyes. As T.K. looked at him with wide, unfocused eyes, Carlos felt an alarm bell go off in his head. Something wasn’t right.

“Why don’t we got sit down a while?” Carlos suggested, guiding T.K. to a table, but T.K. wouldn’t sit. Instead, he hovered over Carlos, eyes hungry.

It was a few minutes before T.K. spoke. “Carlos? Am I drunk?” Carlos heard, but it was tinny in his ears. T.K. leaned in, practically sitting in Carlos’ lap. “If I am, I’m going to be so mad at myself in the morning.”

Carlos looked up sharply, rising from his chair and bringing T.K. to his feet. “Did you drink something?” He kept his voice calm, but his fingers twitched with panic. He reminded himself that if T.K. had drunken something that Carlos would have noticed. He’d only ever seen T.K. with mineral water.

T.K. shook his head, a dopey smile on his face. “Only mineral water but really good mineral water. I’ve never felt this good drinking mineral water before.” T.K. looped his arms around Carlos’ neck, diving in for a long, sloppy kiss. Carlos froze, caught off guard by the PDA. T.K. was a bit handsy when they went out to gay bars and clubs, but when he was around his father, he kept the touching to a minimum.

Then, T.K.’s hands were all over Carlos, running down his sides to rest on his butt. Carlos pulled them away. “T.K., stop.” Carlos’ heart was hammering in his chest, not sure what T.K. thought he was doing.

“Why? It feels so good. You feel so good.” T.K. moved his hands in erratic shapes on Carlos’ chest, and it would have felt good if they were at home and not in the middle of a goddamn bar.

There was something startlingly euphoric in T.K.’s eyes that Carlos didn’t recognize, and he didn’t think it was sobriety. “Because you’re acting weird, and your dad is right over there. Did you take something?”

“No, I’m great. I can’t remember feeling this happy since… well, ever. I don’t think I’ll ever be sad again. Forget depression. I want to always feel like this, baby. If I don’t feel like this tomorrow, I’ll want to die.”

Carlos felt his stomach drop. That confirmed his suspicion that something was terribly wrong. “Oh, T.K.”

“Why did you say it like that? Aren’t you happy too?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Why? We’re having fun.” T.K. had Carlos’ arm in his grip, and Carlos tried to pry his hand off.

“I’ll be back. I need you to stay here, okay? I’m going to go get Michelle.” If this was a drug, or some other medical issue, maybe Michelle could help him figure out what was going on because of the list of possibilities flashing through his head, Carlos didn’t like any of them.

“Michelle?” T.K. asked with bewilderment.

“Yeah, Ty, Michelle. Your dad too. I’ll have someone stay with you.” He set his sights on Paul who was just a few feet away chatting up a pretty woman. She’d have to wait.

“Tell them that I’m so, so, so happy,” T.K. lulled. “That’s three so’s. It’s important to have enough so’s.”

“Okay, honey, I won’t forget,” Carlos said before kissing T.K.’s cheek, calling Paul over, and weaving his way through the people and tables to where Michelle and Owen were chatting.

When T.K. looked up, Paul was standing there. T.K. laughed. “Hey, buddy. Where’d you come from?”

“I was over by the bar with a girl.”

“Ohhh, a lady. Did Strickland strike out?”

Paul shrugged. “She was okay, but it seemed like you needed company.”

“It was Carlos, huh? He worries a lot. I can’t ever remember feeling worried about anything. He needs to drink mineral water. Hydration is nature’s high.”

“T.K. are you—"

Before Paul could say anything more, Carlos pushed through with Michelle and Owen behind him. “Baby, you’re back,” T.K.’s face lit up. “I missed you,” he said, kissing Carlos on the lips.

“I’m here,” Carlos brushed a hand through T.K.’s sweaty hair.

“T.K., how are you feeling?” Michelle asked in a soft, patient voice, putting a hand on his arm to get him to focus on her. Owen pushed his way to T.K.

“Son, are you alright?”

T.K. looked between them, not sure who he should answer first. “Dizzily good,” he said, laughing uncontrollably.

Michelle looked T.K. over as best she could without any proper supplies. His eyes were unfocused, and he was acting manic. A smile hadn’t left his face since she’d been called over. “Have you had too much to drink, T.K.?”

“Not a drop. I don’t do that. Messes with my head.”

“Did you have anything else?”

“Any what?” T.K. asked, not understanding.

Carlos looked at his boyfriend, feeling completely helpless. “See, something’s really wrong,” he told Michelle. Owen looked terrified and like he was ten seconds from wrapping T.K. in bubble wrap. Carlos didn’t blame him.

Michelle turned around from T.K. “Would he have taken something?” Michelle asked Carlos in a whisper. Owen heard too by the way his eyes widened. T.K. was busy talking to Judd who had come over to see what the fuss was about and had a stormy look in his eyes.

Carlos shook his head. “No, no.” He paused to think. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Paul gave Carlos a sorry look. “Is it possible someone slipped something into his drink?” That was the one thing Carlos hadn’t let himself consider. The thought alone made him feel sick and unhinged.

“I was with him the whole time. Almost.” He tried to think about when something like that could’ve happened. “There was a guy who was bothering earlier when I got back from the bathroom, but I thought he was just an asshole, and T.K. got him to go away pretty easily.”

“Damnit,” Owen cursed, looking as angry as Carlos felt. “What exactly did the guy do?”

“He was flirting. Saying filthy stuff,” stuff Carlos wasn’t about to repeat in front of the whole group, knowing it would humiliate T.K. if he were sober. “He tried to put his hands on him, but T.K. pushed him away, and the guy left without much fuss.”

Judd crossed his arms, voice gruff. “And you didn’t deck him for that?”

“I’m a cop. If I hit every asshole, I crossed paths with, I’d never stop punching, and I’d be out of a job. Besides, it would only piss T.K. off if I tried to fight someone for him.”

Paul raised his eyebrows, “Do you know that from experience?”

Carlos ignored Paul’s question. “We need to get him out of here.”

“We also need to find the asshole who did this,” Judd said, fists clenched. If they found him, Carlos wasn’t going to stop Judd from throwing some punches.

“Did what?” T.K. asked but didn’t wait for a response, pushing through the group so he could kiss Carlos. “You’re so handsome and do lots of sexy…” T.K.’s eyes caught his dad’s. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Just making sure you’re okay son.”

“Why do you sound so angry?”

Michelle tried to calm them. “We don’t know that he did anything yet,” though she didn’t seem convinced. “Focus on T.K. He needs to go to the hospital, and you need to ensure he’s specifically tested for date rape drugs— ketamine, Rohypnol, GHB, are the common ones.” She knew that Carlos knew all that, but she also knew that he wasn’t thinking clearly with all the stress of what was happening. The words were heavy between them.

“We’re going to get you out of here, son,” Owen promised, rubbing the back of T.K,’s neck. “Come on, Carlos, I’ll drive us to the hospital, and you can sit with T.K. to monitor him on the way.”

Carlos nodded, “Okay, I can do that.”

Judd patted T.K. on the back. “Let me know if I can do anything, Cap.”

“Same here,” Paul added glumly.

“Will do. Thanks. I’ll keep you updated. Ready to go, Reyes?”

Carlos nodded. “I’ll take care of your car,” Michelle promised, and Carlos handed her his keys.

“Thank you.” Carlos turned to T.K. who’d started swaying to the music. “T.K., we’re going to the hospital.”

“Why? Who’s hurt?”

“You are,” Carlos explained, pulling T.K. towards to door.

“I feel great.”

“I know, but we have to make sure you’re okay.”

T.K. look confused but nodded. “I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

Holding T.K.’s arm, Carlos followed Owen through the bar and to his car. He got into the back seat with T.K., and buckled them both in. T.K. couldn’t stay still during the drive. He’d tried getting out of the car while it was still moving—twice— but Carlos had locked his door and kept careful watch on him until they finally arrived to the hospital’s emergency room entrance. Owen dropped them off and then went to park, meeting them in the ER a few minutes later.

As they sat in the hospital waiting room, Owen and Carlos took turns being worried and tending to T.K. Meanwhile, T.K. seemed oblivious to what was happening. He was grinning from ear to ear, and they had trouble getting him to sit down. Carlos knew he was going to feel shitty when he finally crashed, and while he wanted T.K. to go back to being himself, he hated that T.K. probably wouldn’t remember what had happened to him. They waited impatiently, but the emergency room was busy, and the hospital was short staffed, making a long night drag even longer.

The hours passed, and T.K.’s high peaked and began to wear off. Carlos could tell by the way T.K.’s body dropped, quiet and more pliant than ever. By the time a nurse finally called T.K.’s name, T.K. could barely move of his own volition, his body limp against Carlos’. Carlos had to support most of T.K.’s weight and pull him to the examination cubicle. Owen couldn’t hide the rage on his face as he saw the vacant look in T.K.’s sleepy eyes.

When the tests were finally finished, they were told that they’d probably have results within twenty-four hours and that they could go home while they waited. Owen drove them all to his house, urging Carlos to stay over for the night. He assumed T.K. would want him there, and by the way T.K. had latched onto Carlos’ arm, Carlos didn’t have it in him to argue. He didn’t want to let his eyes off T.K. anyways, still feeling a dull throb of anxiety coursing through his body. T.K. being high would be easy compared to what came after.

Carlos tucked a pliable and depressed T.K. into bed, promising him that they’d deal with everything in the morning, but T.K. was too out of it to make sense of Carlos’ words. Maybe it was better he didn’t understand what was happening until he was more conscious.  

T.K. woke up to the sun shining too brightly through the cracks in the blind. It wasn’t even that bright, but there was a nasty knot in T.K.’s stomach, making him feel unable to even flip his body over on the bed. Carlos, who had been sending emails on his laptop, closed the laptop’s lid and turned to T.K. “How are you feeling?” Carlos’ face looked sad, and T.K. tried to figure out why. Why did Carlos seem to think he was sick?

They were in T.K.’s room, he noticed, which was weird because him and Carlos almost always went back to Carlos’ place. He remembered going out, but the night after that was a blur. He tried to search his memory for why they’d chosen to come back to Owen’s house, but his memory was blank.

A hard realization struck him. He hadn’t felt this way since the days when he’d get high. This didn’t feel like oxy, though. He preferred oxy, but he’d tried others, and he couldn’t place what this feeling was, but it was something familiar. A substance had been involved, he was sure of that. “What did I do?” he asked, heart picking up in pace. He had a bad feeling he’d fucked up majorly, and the guilty look on Carlos’ face wasn’t reassuring. T.K. corrected his question. “What did I take?”

Carlos took T.K.’s hand. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I know what a crash feels like, Carlos, and the fact that I don’t remember anything brings me back to days I’d rather forget.” It was ironic that he often didn’t remember the good times. The highs blurred in his mind, all surrounded by a frosty edge, but the crashes after the highs were moments he could never forget. They were the reasons he had to keep getting high to avoid the melancholy that followed a night of fun.

“We think you were drugged.” The words didn’t make sense to T.K., sounding wobbly to his ears.

“What?”

“We think someone slipped something in your mineral water.” He’d process that later. For now, he was going to try to get as much information as he could to piece the night together.

“What did they give me?”

Carlos’ jaw clenched. “We have to wait for the test results to get back, but probably a club drug.” T.K. could tell that Carlos was being careful with his words as to not upset T.K. more. Anxiety was starting to turn into rage.

T.K.’s voice turned angry. “You mean a date rape drug,” he said louder than he’d intended.

Carlos’ voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” T.K. cut in bitterly. “You’re not the asshole who did it.”

“I’m still sorry that it happened.” T.K. softened as he saw guilt written all over Carlos��� face. He was blaming himself. T.K. forced himself to sit up and loop his arm around Carlos’.

T.K. closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from breaking down. “What… did I…” he couldn’t even get it out. He opened his eyes to look at Carlos, and he couldn’t help the tear that came out. Carlos brushed it away with his tumb. “Did I do something that I’d regret?” Was something done to me? went unsaid.

Brushing a hand through T.K.’s hair, Carlos sighed. “No, honey, I was with you the whole time you were drugged. He didn’t do anything to you other than drug you.”

“I hate this.”

“I know. It’s awful what he did.” What some guy he didn’t know did to him was not the thing feeding T.K.’s emotions.

“It’s awful what I did to myself,” T.K. corrected.

“You didn’t—” Carlos would be the first to absolve T.K. of his sins.

“Not last night. It used to happen a lot, the blackouts.”

“Oh?” Carlos wasn’t stupid. He surely had an idea where the conversation was going, but T.K. knew he would listen and avoid putting words into T.K.’s mouth. T.K. was grateful for it.

“Back when my substance abuse was at its worse, I was mostly into oxy, and that caused enough problems, but I used other shit as well. I’d drink a lot, but also take other stuff when I was offered it. Club drugs. They make you feel pretty euphoric, at least until the crash, but when they go wrong, they really go wrong. I’d lose control. I’d get so wasted that I’d wake up naked in random guys’ beds, and I wouldn’t remember anything, which fucking sucks, but it was my own fault.”

“If someone hurt you, it’s never your fault,” Carlos couldn’t help but say.

T.K. shook his head. “I felt so stupid, and the wondering what you did the night before, it can really drive you crazy if you let it. You try to piece together the clues like a goddamn detective. You look around the room trying to see where you are. You see how your body feels. You try to find your clothes. You try to figure out who you went home with. You ask the people you were with what happened, but they were probably just as high. But when it comes down to it, there are nights you’ll never get back. You’ll never get an explanation of what happened to you, and that’s terrifying, and it’s so hard to get over what you don’t know. You keep wanting to forget. So, you keep doing the same old things that make your life hell but give you temporary release.”

“Sounds awful,” Carlos agreed. He could barely speak with all the emotions bubbling up in his own chest. He pulled T.K.’s hand to his lips, giving it a kiss. “I can try to answer any questions you may have. Your dad too.”

“My dad.” T.K.’s face fell. “Fuck. I didn’t want to worry my dad.” Another wave of panic hit him. “Who else was there?”

“Us, your dad, Michelle, Paul and Judd and Grace was around somewhere. Mateo and Marjan had already gone home.”

“Damn it. I never had an audience when I was fucked up before.” Well, he had, but they hadn’t been people he cared about. Their opinions hadn’t concerned him. “I can never show my face again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ty. They understand that.”

“It’s still humiliating. I relapsed.”

“You didn’t want to be drugged. It wasn’t your choice. It may make it harder to stay sober, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, I did. I wanted it. There’s that part of me that still, and always will, enjoys the high. This is going to ruin all the progress I’ve made.”

“It doesn’t have to. You have lots of people to talk to if you have a hard time. Me, your dad, your team, and your therapist too.” T.K. already wanted something to kick the feelings. Alcohol. Oxy. Ecstasy. He’d take a shit ton of fucking Benadryl if he had any.  

T.K. redirected the conversation. “Who did it?” Not, who did this to me?

“Not too long before you started acting differently, I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, there was a guy hitting on you. You sent him away, but he could’ve spiked your drink while he was there. Other than that, we don’t have any leads. We’ll wait for test results for more information and go from there.”

“Leads? I’m not a case, Carlos.” An uncontrollable, irritable energy had filled T.K., and he hated how snappy it had made him.

“I know. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just being stupid.” T.K. sighed. “Sorry. I’m such an asshole.”

Carlos gave a small smile. “I think we’ve apologized enough for one morning. I know you’re just trying to process what happened. It takes time.” T.K. almost hated how understanding he was.

“It shouldn’t. It’s not like anyone hurt me. I’m fine.”

“He violated you. He took away your autonomy. Even if it wasn’t the worst-case scenario, you have the right to be upset, Ty.”

“I don’t want to be upset anymore. But I feel like shit and depressed and angry. What if I never feel okay again? What then? What if I go back to being a junkie who can’t stand to be sober?’

“Then, I’ll do whatever I can to help you through it, but this awful thing that happened to you doesn’t have to ruin anything. It will get better. It just takes time.”

“I wish I could skip that time. Blackout and wake up feeling great.”

Carlos kissed his forehead. “But because you can’t do that, we’ll just have to try to have good moments when we find them. You can find things to look forward to, even if you to struggle to find any present good.”

“You think so?”

Carlos nodded. “When I’m having a bad day at work, I always think of getting to see you and it gets me through the day.”

A smile pulled at T.K.’s face. “Who made you so sweet?”

“I think I was born this way, but you sure bring it out of me, Tiger.”

T.K. rolled over so that he was on top of Carlos. “I’ve just thought of something to look forward to,” he whispered in Carlos’ ear. “Do you think you can schedule me in for tonight when I feel human again?”

Carlos clutched onto T.K.’s waist. “Whatever and whenever you want.”

“7 o’clock. Your place, so we can be noisy.” T.K. needed some time to escape the chaos in his brain, to pretend things were different for awhile. “Until then,” T.K.’s voice was soft, “I want to cuddle.”  Because he still felt like his whole world had been flipped on its head, but he was going to try to be okay. Somehow, someway.

Carlos kissed him. “As long as you need.”

[cheerynoir]

The Clean Up

Direct sequel to How Do We Come Back From This? Thanks to @c0ffeebee for betaing. No warnings, just some good old fashioned hurt/comfort and found family.

#

So they got breakfast, and it was ashes in Mateo’s mouth. He ate mechanically, and across the table, Rio was quiet. She ate with a single-minded focus, like anything less wasn’t worth her time.

Fuel in the tank, Mateo thought, looking at her. The words swam up through the lingering fog of alcohol and hurt to unfurl – a banner he couldn’t decipher or care about.

It all rang hollow. False and silent and – bad. How many times had he gotten breakfast with the guys after they got off shift, crammed into a booth and talking over each other and stealing off each other’s plates? Rico’s arm stretched out across the back of the booth, warm, and Diego laughing at his own joke so hard he was silent and shaking, Dett guarding her omelette and not afraid to kick in her pointy-toed boots beneath the table. That was how meals were supposed to be shared. Not – not like this.

I don’t think that’s going to happen again, unfurled another banner. That one hurt.

Mateo drank some coffee and found himself rubbing his chest, where that deep black well had opened up behind his ribs. It echoed.

After she finished and Mateo stopped pushing soggy pancakes around on his plate, Rio paid, kissed his cheek, and left him there on the curb. She left him with her phone-number and the ghost of sandalwood in his nose.

He didn’t look at his phone as he trudged home. Half scared, maybe, that he’d find a string of angry texts. Terrified he’d find nothing.

At least anger was – words. He could work with that, maybe. Apologize, at least. What could he do with frosty silence but grieve and stew?

So he walked, with his head down and his shoulders slumped, aching like he’d been gutshot.

He barely made it through the door before Josefina was on him.

“You didn’t come home last night and I tried to cover for you but Mama’s pissed!” she said all at once.

Mateo blinked at her. He should care about that, he was sure. He’d been fighting with – everyone – more, since he’d discovered The Cat. Even once he’d come home after the mess that was his coming out, and he’d felt like he was walking on eggshells, the undercurrent of tension had never fully ebbed away. He was beginning to think living on Rico’s sofa had been his happiest moment, and wasn’t that pathetic?

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a beat too late. His throat was full of sand.

Fina’s brow creased, and her little grin fell into a frown. “What happened? You don’t look afterglow-y.”

Unbidden, a squawk of laughter burst from between his teeth. If only she knew. He wiped at his mouth as if to stifle it, and still didn’t cry.

“It’s – it’s not that,” he said, when Fina only looked more and more worried. He still couldn’t quite feel it, was the thing. It was like the hole in his chest was swallowing up everything he should be feeling and leaving a numbness in its wake. “It’s – I ruined it, I think.”

“What?”

Then her hands were on him, half guiding, half yanking, until they were in her bedroom and the door was closed – the closest thing any of them had to privacy with walls this thin. It was Saturday. Mama would be at work at the doctor’s place, and Tiago would be with his wife, or working, and Raul might be around, or he might be out checking in down the street. It felt strange, not to know for sure. For so long, they’d lived in each other’s pockets.

“I... I fucked up, Fina,” he said, after she’d prodded it out of him. “I...”

“What happened? How?”

“I can’t tell you the details,” he said. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I promised. I swore.”

“Okay. But the broad strokes?”

“I slept with someone I shouldn’t have,” he admitted, and wondered if it was strange to be telling his little sister this. She’d always been his confidante – even before Raul. She was only a couple of years younger than him, but still, it was weird, wasn’t it? His head ached and his mouth was full of cotton. He grimaced, even as Fina huffed a little laugh.

“Oh, is that all? As long as everyone was consenting—”

“In Fly’s bed.”

“What.” Somewhere between appalled and amused. Some confidante.

Mateo stared at his hands, the blunt fingers and brutally short nails and scarred knuckles. They opened and closed restlessly.

“His ex, I think,” he admitted. “In his bed. I didn’t realize it at the time. I was pretty drunk. But after. He found us.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. So, uh.” He let out a shuddering breath, and the world blurred at the edges. His words crackled. “So I fucked it up, Fina. I can’t – I can’t go back. They all – they all hate me now, I think.”

“Oh, Mateo.” Then her arms were around him, squeezing him fiercely, and the tears came like rain after drought, and he lost himself in it for a while.

#

He couldn’t look at the bed. He couldn’t look anywhere but the bed. The stink in the room made his lungs itch and his palms sweat. Rio still used the same perfume, after all these years. He hated that he knew that, now. Hated a lot of things, if he was being honest.

Rico was dimly aware of a couple of things: Diego in the living room, snarling at Dett as they argued in low voices; the quiet metallic clinking of his fidget ring as he worked at it with his thumb; the silence downstairs, with The Cat closed. The stink of the room.

The knowledge that he was being a little bit dramatic.

Overdramatic, maybe.

Who reacted like this to their ... friend finally getting laid?

But it was a knife in his throat, knowing who and where and -

What the fuck, Mateo?

Yeah, he was aware of that, too, the thought circling through his brain in a hundred different intonations?

What the FUCK, Mateo? WHAT the fuck, Mateo. What. the. Fuck. Mateo. 

He needed to – shower. To shower, and change, and sleep. The exhaustion pulled at him, even if his buzz had long-since fled. It had been a long night.

But the bed.

His teeth ached. It took a moment to unlock his jaw.

“Rico?” Dett, with her make-up sweat-smudged and her mouth a worried twist and her hands on his shoulders. “Hey. You with me?”

“Always,” he said, and summoned up a smile. Overdramatic, that was it. It wasn’t like Mateo knew—

Knew what? Which bed was yours?

He brushed aside the concern, but Dett was not so easily shaken off. She tightened her grip instead.

“Here’s the plan, Flyboy,” she told him, firmly, her eyes on his. “You and me, we’re going shopping. While we’re out, Diego’s going to deal with – that,” she said, jerking her chin. “Then, breakfast, alright?”

He was pretty hungry. It felt like he shouldn’t be. But he was starving.

“Yeah,” he said, eventually. Dett smiled at him, and her shoulders dropped in naked relief, and behind her Diego was hovering with his mouth set and his hands full of garbage bags, and Rico felt like the worst kind of asshole, worrying them both. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just tired, guys.”

“Sure,” Dett agreed, and guided him into the shower. There were clothes waiting for him on the toilet lid when he finished scrubbing on autopilot. Dark jeans and clean boxer-briefs and a black tank he’d had since senior year, butter-soft from wear and age. For a long minute, he just petted over the fabric, wanting – something. It was like there was a balloon in his chest, blown up and squishing everything else out of the way. He wanted to let the air out, and didn’t know how.

Dett and Diego were maybe the only two people who knew how much he liked soft things against his skin. No tags on his shirts, nothing scratchy. They knew him best.

So why didn’t it make him feel better?

He dressed and headed out, and Dett intercepted him with his boots and the car keys before he could get back to his room.

“I got the keys from Papa,” she told him. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

In the other room, Diego swore over the sound of rustling cloth. Rico’s stomach gave a terse flip.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.”

In the car, Rico couldn’t shake it, the distant feeling. Like he was walking around in a glass box. He wanted to shake it. Wanted to give Dett the attention she deserved. He was being stupid and overdramatic.

But.

“Sorry about this,” he said, quiet over the German metal she was playing at a whisper. The sun was bright and hot. It was going to be a beautiful day.

“Nothing to apologize for,” she told him without looking away from the highway. “Wasn’t your fuck up.”

“No, I mean. I’m being overdramatic about this.”

She shot him a sharp look over her sunglasses, but he pressed on. “I am. I didn’t flip this bad when Diego fucked – whatsisname, Carlos, in my bed a couple years ago. We laughed about it, remember?”

“Rico, that was different,” she said, achingly gentle, like he was some kid dying of cancer and she had to break the news. He grimaced and looked away, rubbing his mouth. Sun glinted like knives off a distant mirage.

“It shouldn’t be,” he insisted. “I’ve got no claim on Mateo. We weren’t dating – weren’t anything.”

They were a maybe. An almost. Mateo was shiny and new and he wanted everything the Queer scene had to offer and he wanted it now and Rico didn’t want—

He didn’t want to take advantage. That was all. He didn’t want to be a regret.

So he turned aside Mateo’s clumsy advances with care, and tried to look out for him. To make a brother of him, as he had Diego all those years ago.

Well. Look how that turned out.

Same actions, different response. Wonder why that is, genius?

“It’s not like he knew,” he went on slowly. “About Rio, I mean. And he seemed pretty out of it...”

He glanced over, and Dett’s expression brought him up short. Something cold slithered into the pit of his stomach and stuck there, gnawing. “What?” he asked.

Dett looked back out, biting her lip. “I told him,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you hate talking about it, but Diego caught them in the back-alley a month back and he wanted to know why he was to ignore her.”

Rico’s stomach sunk into his boots.

“Oh,” he said.

Dett pried a hand off the wheel and put it on his knee. “I’m sorry. You know I never would have if I had a choice. I didn’t give him details. Just – you used to run together and it went bad. How you gave us a scare. He seemed to get it. I never thought he’d...”

You gave us a scare – that was how Papa described it, too. A few days white-knuckled at a bedside, praying and swearing and hoping, grey with stress and grief. But sure. A scare. Like he’d taken off for a long weekend without telling anybody.

He’d feel worse if he remembered any of it. Recovery was a haze of the good stuff and white walls and scratchy fabric. Day time TV and a lot of weird dreams and pain lurking like a sleep paralysis demon at the edge of his awareness. He didn’t remember getting stabbed. He didn’t remember much of that night at all. The docs said it was normal. Rico wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember at all. Seemed better not to poke the bear.

But despite himself, Rico flinched. A scare. He’d scared them. He looked to Dett, chewing the inside of his cheek. She offered him an apologetic grimace, damp at the edges. Rico covered her hand with his own.

“Thanks,” he said. “For taking care of it.”

“Not that it did much good.” He tightened his grip when she tried to retreat.

Well. There wasn’t much to say to that. Rico’s attention flicked to the window and he watched the horizon slip past.

They ended up at a mall, wandering through the mid-morning crowd of families and teens and babies. Dett didn’t let go of his hand, and he didn’t let go of hers. Their rings pressed together, and their shoulders bumped, and they didn’t let go.

They were huddled in a Wayfair petting bed sheets and avoiding the clerk when he looked up suddenly.

“Do you think he did it to hurt me?” he asked, soft as the organic cotton against the back of his fingers. “Because I wouldn’t...?”

“You’re allowed to say no,” Dett snapped, reflexive. “Whatever reasons, you don’t have to fuck every baby-gay with a crush. His actions are on him.” Then she paused. She pressed her lips together. A muscle in her jaw worked, and she wordlessly passed him a set of pale blue jersey sheets to feel. It was like petting an old t-shirt. “I wouldn’t think he had it in him,” she admitted. “But it seems a little deliberate, doesn’t it? Your bed, out of anywhere.”

“He seemed pretty drunk,” he ventured. “And surprised.”

“You don’t have to defend him, you know.” It felt like a reflex. Might as well not blink, or breathe. “But. I don’t know. Maybe he’s just a fuck up.”

That startled a laugh out of him, the glass around him cracking. Dett grinned at him. “Yeah,” he said, and bowed his head. “Maybe.”

Eventually, he picked a set of cotton-bamboo sheets. Steel blue. High thread count. He wasn’t thinking about the price until he saw the total and went cold all the way through. Dett slapped down her card and shouldered him out of the way when he tried to stop her.

“It’s too much,” he told her. “Let me—”

“Too late,” she chirped, and shoved the bag into his chest. She crumpled the receipt in her fist and threatened to eat it if he didn’t drop the whole thing.

As he ranted at her about it – neither of them made enough to justify that, what are you doing, Dett, you should have let me at least go halfsies – she steered him back into the food-court and into the line for Cinnabon.

“Look,” she told him, no bullshit, and, God, he loved her fiercely. “You buy breakfast. Then we’re square.”

Rico threw up his hands and paid for breakfast.

“Do you remember when we were just numbskull kids,” she started, once they’d settled down with coffee and pastries.

“So, like, last week?”

She kicked him under the table and sucked a smear of icing off her thumb. “Do you remember when we were numbskull kids,” she began again, louder. “And that fucker on the football team took me out and tried to get into my pants, and when I told him where to go, he told the entire school that my dick was bigger than his?”

“Yeah,” said Rico immediately. “D and I took care of him.”

“Obviously. You fed him his own teeth, but before that, do you remember what you did?”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and drank some coffee. Most days, highschool seemed like another life. A different person.

“You dragged me outta my bedroom and mopped up my face, and took me shopping. We combed that mall for hours, and you musta spend all of it on that couch outside the change rooms, but you didn’t complain. Shit, you spent two hundred dollars on a dress for me, the perfect fucking dress, and you said, ‘Mami, you’re gonna be the hottest girl in the club, just you wait,’ and you and Diego took me out dancing. You remember that?”

It had turned out to be a good day, even if it had started out shitty. By the time they’d found the perfect dress – and heels to match because fuck boys who didn’t like tall girls – Dett was laughing at his shitty jokes and letting him needle her, and they’d had a blast that night, the three of them bouncing from club to club, tearing it up. After, there’d been blood and a wrong had been righted. But first, there’d been dancing.

“Yeah,” he said at last, and looked up from his second cinnamon bun. “I remember.”

She met his eye, flinty, and leaned across the table to grab his hand. “Good. Tonight, we go out dancing.”

After Diego inhaled the cinnamon roll they’d brought back for him, and the coffee, they’d all crashed on Rico’s bed, breaking in the new sheets. They slept in a tangle, with the window thrown open and the curtains yanked shut. Everything smelled fresh and clean and new. Diego had changed his trash, and there was no sign of the garbage bags he must have filled with debris from the night before. Even his comforter had been washed and dried, smelling of fabric softener. 

In that warm, hazy place between waking and sleep, Rico turned and mumbled his thanks into the space between them. Diego butted his head into Rico’s shoulder with a sigh. “No big,” he rasped. “Fuck that guy.”

I wanted to. But the words wouldn’t come.

“He shows his face, I’ll pound him,” Diego went on, turning into Rico’s chest with a grumble. He arm slid around Rico’s middle and stayed, warm and heavy.

Dett let out a murmur of agreement, and burrowed more firmly into Rico’s other side, restless fingers at his chest, toying with his St. Jude pendant. He was helpless to do anything but draw them both closer and give them a place to rest their heads. He could do that, at least, as their legs tangled and sleep rose up in a black wave to drag him under. He could at least do that.

When they woke, they were hungry and restless and wild at the edges, clawing at the walls. As the sun went down, Dett applied her make-up like war-paint, and each layer of clothing was another piece of armour. Rico smeared his eyes with dark liner, and left his shirt unbuttoned to the navel, and forgot, for a while, about the empty space at his side.

Soon, they’d deal with Mateo. 

But first they’d go dancing.

[aj-the-satyr]

Puzzles and Crayons

Dick frowned as he once again looked around his fancy all mod cons overpriced modern apartment and there were indeed two young girls in it. One had sprawled out in front of his very fancy flat screen television, moved the coffee table and was now laying on the floor coloring away seemingly grabbing crayons at random leading to some very interesting color choices. The other girl sat opposite him at what he considered his dining table seemingly completely focused on the 3D puzzle of the Eiffel Tower that lay mostly in pieces before her. She wasn’t even referring to the box for help, just methodically piecing it together a second puzzle lay unopened at her feet for when she was done with the first. Yep. This was happening. He glanced around the place eyes resting on one of several hiding places where he could lay a hand on a weapon should the need arise. This wasn’t a safe place was it? He looked to the hallway that led to the front door trying to focus on just what Carlos had said to end up here. He remembered going into the house with Fig talking about the file he had on The Clockmaker when he’d almost bumped into Carlos. After that was almost a blut or talking and him driving them to a toy store to help Uncle Carlos get the two girls some things that would help smooth over the transition from their old home to a new safe house. One of the girls had seemed excited by that phrase, the other looked like people would need one to survive her wrath. He looked at the girl doing puzzles again, Scarlett as Carlos had introduced her. She was focused, almost fixated on the puzzle. This wasn’t play, this was a task. He shook his head as that thought knocked something else loose. He Took his ear piece, or at least the silicon plug part, out of the cleaning solution and checked the main part of the device that was on the charger. Still a little orange light. Oh well, it had been a while since he’d charged it. It was nice of Fig to give him it in the first place that asking for another, although useful, would have felt like too much. A poke brought him back to this world. The other girl, Violet, waived at him and was talking. He offered her a smile and pointed to his ear then the charging device. A frown creased her features and she and her sister exchanged words. Dick let out a short huffed breath as he thought of the many TV shows and Movies where their characters could lipread perfectly and at seemingly impossible angles. He’d tried to learn it, but it had been frustrating and ultimately not as useful as either his hearing aid or sign language or even miming. He watched as Violet turned back to him and mimed taking a drink. He smiled. There. That he understood. He gave her a thumbs up and walked over to the fridge where he kept several varieties of flavored fizzy water along with chocolate milk, a childhood favourite that he just couldn’t kick the habit of. naturally the young girl went straight for the chocolate milk causing him to shake his head a little, but they were his guests now. He waived at Scarlett but failed to catch her attention. A muted sound made him look down, it seemed that Violet was being loud. He shook his head again and made eye contact with Scarlett. He mimed drinking and she shook her head. Ok. These two girls couldn’t be any more different. He closed the fridge and caught the tail end of Scarlett signing something. He blinked as she signed again.

“Your device is charged.”

“Thank you.” He signed back.

She just nodded and continued working on the puzzle.

He sat back down, reassembled the earpiece and put it back in.

“How long have you been deaf?” The question came almost as soon as he was able to hear.

“About 12 years. How long have you been so cold and blunt?”

Scarlett looked him dead in the eye. “About 12 years”

Whoa. He reminded himself to not piss her off.

“Does being Deaf hurt?” Came a voice from across the room.

He chuckled. How he hated such questions when they came from adults who should know better. “No. It does not.”

“Ok.” She went right back to coloring. Conversation over there.

He looked at Scarlett again. “So you’ve seen this before?” He pointed at the pile of pieces.

“No. I have not seen the Eiffel tower broken down into individual interlocking pieces before. Is that how they built it?”

He blinked. Not quite what he meant. “I guess. Just the pieces weren’t designed like this.”

“Obviously.”

Was she toying with him? He was starting to regret being talking into this whole thing, even if Carlos was cute.

And as if on cue Carlos opened the door with the key Dick had given him. “Who Wants Pizza?!”

(Ok. Time to hop back on the Malentendu train eh? Guess I gotta do one of them taglist things again.....

@yuutfa @anntarinsanitymaterialized @sleepy-and-anxious @wordsaremylife

There.... Been a while but I let things get to me too much. I’m back now and you’re stuck with me.)

[morganaspendragonss]

someday, i’ll breathe again

prompted by @mimierose, idea by @theworld-is-out-there. thanks guys, so sorry it took me so long to write! i hope you both like it!

A shout from above grabs their attention, followed by the pounding of feet coming down the stairs towards them. TK’s able to shove Mateo out of the way, but the guy forcefully collides with him as he goes past, his momentum knocking TK off balance and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the landing below.

He lands hard, stars exploding in his vision, the pain in his head masking the sharp sting in his arm.

ao3 | 2.1k | warning for references to needles and past addiction - this is not a relapse fic

The ambulance arrives at the scene just behind the truck, and TK grins when he climbs out, spotting Carlos already deep in conversation with his dad. Nancy hits him as she walks past, any initial reservations she’d had about him joining their team long since forgotten.

“Head out of the bedroom, Strand,” she says, rolling her eyes at his show of offence. 

“I’ll have you know my head wasn’t even close to the bedroom,” he protests, following her to the back of the ambulance. It’s not even a lie; he’d actually just been thinking about how much he was looking forward to their movie night later. They haven’t spent much time together properly in a while, shifts rarely lining up, both of them too tired to do much more than sleep when they do.

Becoming a paramedic has meant that some of the danger has gone out of TK’s job, but the workload has increased more than he realised it would. Medical get far more calls than fire in a day, and much as TK loves it, he can’t deny the bone-deep exhaustion at the end of most shifts.

He wouldn’t trade it, though, not for the world.

Nancy sends him a withering look, but she doesn’t get a chance to respond before Tommy’s striding back over to them, having consulted with his dad.

“What are we looking at, Cap?” he asks.

“PD needs some help clearing the building,” she responds. “It’s due to be demolished in a couple of weeks, but there have been some reports of squatters, gangs, local kids, hanging around. They want to make sure everyone’s out, and they want medical on standby just in case. Ordinarily, we’d wait out here, as you know, but Captain Strand and I have agreed that it would be more efficient and useful to have you inside. There might be people in there who don’t have the time to wait to be carried out.”

TK grimaces, hearing Tommy’s implications loud and clear. Her gaze flicks over to him, but she doesn’t comment, and TK tries to pull himself together as she continues laying out the plan.

“We’ll be going in in teams of three - two firefighters, one paramedic. TK, you’re with Judd and Mateo; Nancy, you’re with Marjan and Paul. Captain Strand and I will be waiting out here - keep us updated.”

“Yes, Cap.”

He and Nancy nod, turning to gather supplies into their medical bags. They work silently and efficiently; TK had been surprised by how easy it was to fall into a natural rhythm with his new team, but it feels normal now, like he’s been doing it forever.

Tommy takes his arm before they join the others, pulling him to one side. “You good to do this, Strand?” she asks, voice firm but caring. TK appreciates the thought - he’d told her about his history during his interview in case she wanted to think twice about hiring him - but he knows that he can do this.

He nods, adjusting the strap on his bag. “Yes. I’m good, Cap.”

She smiles. “Good. Now, go, and both of you be safe.”

TK jogs over to the others, arriving just in time to hear Nancy bemoaning him and his distinct lack of driving skill to Marjan.

“That’s so rude, Gillian,” he protests. “I’ll have you know I used to navigate New York traffic and never once got in an accident.”

“And yet you can’t take the ambulance more than five yards without threatening to crash it.”

“I’m surprised he can get it that far,” Judd puts in, which TK thinks is wholly unnecessary. It’s not his fault that the firetruck is totally unmaneuverable, or that the ambulance is only barely better. 

He opens his mouth to tell Judd this, but his dad chooses this moment to call them to attention, so he’s forced to settle for a glare directed at the back of Judd’s head.

“You’ll take alternating floors,” Owen tells them. “Judd, Mateo, TK - start on the ground, work your way up through the even numbered levels. Paul, Marjan, Nancy - the same, starting on one and doing the odd floors. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Cap.”

“Good.” Owen looks round at them all, eyes seeming to linger on TK for the briefest second longer. “The structure seems stable, but stay alert. We don’t know what you’re gonna find in there, and I’d like to avoid any injuries. Police will be around for back up if you need them. Good luck.”

They spring into action, heading towards the building as a unit, and TK has to admit that he’s missed this. Doing rescues with the team, adrenaline pumping through his veins, never quite sure what’s going to happen from one moment to the next. 

He sticks to the back of their little group, letting Judd and Mateo go ahead of him as they sweep the ground floor. There’s no-one there so they move onto the next level, TK’s nose wrinkling as the smell gets worse the higher up they go. They work without speaking, for the most part, though judging by the numerous backward glances Mateo keeps sending him, TK suspects that it won’t last.

Sure enough, as they’re moving from the fourth floor to the sixth - their last but one target - Mateo falls into step with him.

“It’s been weird since you became a paramedic.”

Ahead of them, Judd groans. “Here we go again.”

“What?” Mateo protests. “It has.”

TK looks between them, curious. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just weird that you’re not on call with us anymore,” he says, shrugging.

“I am literally on call with you right now, Mateo.”

“Yeah, but not with us,” Mateo sighs. “And it’s not like you’re at every call, and you don’t do rescues, and you ride in the ambulance now. I know that this is what you want to do, and that’s really cool, seriously, but it’s just -”

“Weird,” TK finishes, laughing a little. He nudges Mateo with his shoulder. “I get it. It’s been weird for me, too.”

“Really?” He seems surprised, looking over at TK with wide eyes. TK sends him a wry smile.

“Really,” he says. “But -”

A shout from above grabs their attention, followed by the pounding of feet coming down the stairs towards them. The guy - a squatter, more than likely - freezes when he catches sight of them, but only briefly, before continuing to barrel down to them. TK’s able to shove Mateo out of the way, but the guy forcefully collides with him as he goes past, his momentum knocking TK off balance and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the landing below.

He groans, vision swimming as he attempts to push himself upright. His bag is lying a couple of feet away, contents spilling everywhere, and the thought crosses his mind that Captain Vega’s going to be pissed if he loses anything. He tries to get to his feet to collect it all, but the pounding in his head quickly informs him that’s not happening any time soon. 

Judd and Mateo’s faces appear in front of him, their mouths moving but no words coming out. Or… That’s not right. TK focuses as best he can, trying to blink some of the haziness from his mind.

Eventually, their voices reach him, as though underwater. “You with us, brother?” Judd asks, worry evident in his tone.

TK nods, then instantly regrets it as another wave of dizziness washes over him. Hands grasp his shoulders, pulling him up to rest against the wall, and it’s then that he notices a sharp sting in his right arm. He must have cut it on something, which isn’t ideal, given how dirty everything is here.

“Alright,” Judd says, his voice clearer this time. “I’m gonna need you to focus up for me, okay? You’re the paramedic here; you’ve gotta tell us what to do.”

TK huffs a small laugh, closing his eyes and taking a moment to clear the fuzz in his brain. “Definitely have a concussion,” he mutters. “Must have hit my head on the way down.”

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he can feel Judd’s eye roll. “Yeah, no shit. It don’t look too bad, though; you’ve got a bit of a scrape on your cheek, but it seems fine. Hurt anywhere else?”

TK hums, doing a mental check. His entire body aches in some capacity, and he’s probably going to be bruised as hell tomorrow, but his cut is the only other injury he can detect. “Arm,” he says. “Think I cut it on something. Glass, maybe?”

Judd pushes his sleeve up, then sucks in a sharp breath. “Aw, shit, kid,” he murmurs, and TK gets the distinct impression he wasn’t meant to hear that. “Probie, let the captains know? Then go join the others; tell them they’ll have to finish the rest of the building themselves.”

TK frowns, forcing his eyes open. Mateo’s moved too far away for him to hear whatever he’s radioing in, so he turns to Judd instead, panic flaring at the pained look in his eyes. “What? What’s going on?”

Judd hesitates. “That wasn’t, um. That wasn’t glass you landed on, kid.” He shifts, carefully picking something up from the floor, pursing his lips before holding it up for TK to see.

A needle.

All the air feels like it’s sucked out of the room, a band tightening around his chest as his eyes blow wide, fixating on the object in front of him. His heart is racing and his thoughts are scrambled in a way that has nothing to do with the concussion because he just landed on a needle, oh god.

And TK had never been one for any of that stuff, not like some of his friends at the time were, but sober is sober, and he can’t lose that, he can’t, he won’t -

“You haven’t, okay? Just breathe, brother, that’s it. Breathe.”

Judd’s words reach him from far away. TK wants to comply, but his body doesn’t feel like his own, and his shaking fingers scrabble frantically at his uniform collar, the choking sensation only getting worse. A distant noise lets him know that Judd is still talking, and TK tries to latch onto that, leaning into the solid and grounding presence at his side.

Slowly, the panic starts to subside. He still feels on edge, weak and shaky, but he can breathe again, which counts for something.

“Sorry,” he gasps out when he’s able.

Judd’s mouth twists into a grimace. “None of that, now. You okay?”

TK nods, though he doubts it’s very convincing. “I will be,” he amends. “Give me a minute.”

At that moment, Judd’s radio crackles to life. “Ryder, what’s your status?” his dad’s voice says, very carefully professional.

Judd looks over to him. “Think you can stand?”

At TK’s nod, he grasps his radio. “Me and TK are on our way out, Cap,” he reports. “Be with you in a few.”

“Copy that.”

TK groans, taking a shaking breath before planting his hands on the floor, attempting to heave himself upright. He makes it to a half-crouch before his balance gives out, and it’s only Judd’s reflexes that save him from face planting the ground again.

“Jesus, TK,” Judd sighs. “Let me help you.”

His tone leaves no room for argument - not that TK could put up much of a fight at the moment if he tried. He leans his weight on Judd, letting him do most of the work to get them down the stairs and out of the building.

“Sorry for freaking out on you,” he murmurs. “I just…”

“I know, kid,” Judd says softly. “You’re alright, though.”

TK doesn’t say anything, not entirely convinced that Judd is right, but comforted by the sentiment anyway. It’s not until they’re nearing the ground floor that he realises something else, and it’s almost enough to make him want to turn back.

“This is going to be so embarrassing.”

Judd frowns. “What?”

He points between his head and his arm with his good hand. “I’m going to have to go to hospital to get these checked out.” He sighs. “A paramedic needing a ride in his own ambulance. I’m never going to live this down.”

Judd laughs, long and loud, and it’s enough to make a smile tug at TK’s own lips. “You’re something else, kid,” he says, gently ruffling TK’s hair.

TK grumbles and bats him away, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s never been more thankful for Judd, truth be told, and he knows he can trust him to understand. And as they head outside, TK starts to believe that maybe Judd was right after all. 

They’ll be alright, in the end.