#I'm sobbing it's seven a.m. and I'm sobbing

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

the way all of ten's companions leave the doctor in journey's end thinking he's going to be more than fine because he's got his best friend with him and they've all got that just-saved-the-world glow only for ten to look like that when rose kisses tentoo when just before (in a deleted scene) donna had assured rose that she would be there to keep the doctor company while the doctor is already anticipating that he's going to have to wipe donna's memory?? oh idk what rtd was feeding us to make us go this feral because he sure as hell wasn't feeding us happy fucking endings

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐇𝐔𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐓𝐋 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

Summary: When Y/N needs help on a hunt, she doesn't expect Bobby to send Dean Winchester to her. Now the two must work together to solve the case and Dean has to deal with Y/N's sarcastic and biting personality, that maybe he likes a little too much.

Pairing: Dean × F!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, cheating

Word count: 2283

Series

A house on fire, screams, his father, a crying child, creatures hidden in the shadows.

"Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes, and could see with relief that he had only had a damn nightmare.

Y/N seemed to be awake for hours and was standing in front of the bed.

"Hey. Are you okay?" She asked.

The man rubbed his face, holding back a huge yawn. He noticed with surprise that it was already morning from the rays of the sun that filtered through the window into the motel room, yet the time he rested had seemed so short.

"Mh, yeah, I'm fine. What time is it?" he asked hoarsely, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed, confused by sleep.

"It's almost seven a.m," Y/N replied, giving him one last look as if to make sure he was really fine, then shaking her head and going back to what she was doing, getting ready to leave. She was wearing some kind of secretary's suit and Dean couldn't help but think that it fit her very well.

He found himself observing the way her clothes enhanced her body in all the right places.

"Well, that sure doesn't help," he muttered to himself, alluding to something that usually happened to all men early in the morning.

"What?"

"Nothing," he murmured, waving a hand dismissively. "Forget it."

He sat up and sighed. Y/N repeatedly told him to hurry up, that whatever they were hunting would attack again. Dean, after getting ready like her, dressed in a suit and tie, reminded her that without having breakfast he would not go anywhere.

So, after three pancakes and a slice of pie, the hunter got behind the wheel and Y/N got into the passenger seat.

"Recap: I'm Agent Hetfield, FBI. You're my lovely colleague. We're here because we find there are similarities to some of our old cold cases. Okay?"

"It's not the first time I've pretended to be an FBI agent, Dean" she replied "And I can even pick better fake names than yours. James Hetfield? Seriously? Just hope that woman isn't a Metallica fan." She laughed reaching out her hand to remove his badge from his jacket and check with her own eyes that that was the right name. Dean let her do it, not giving her the slack she wanted.

"Fix your tie," she murmured waiting for someone to open the door.

"Okay, mom," muttered Dean in a childish way but following her advice that seemed more a threat.

When an elegant woman appeared before their eyes, dressed in black and with a handkerchief in her hand, they understood that they were facing the widow Dubois, wife of the first victim.

Before Dean could pull his badge out of his pocket, taken away from Y/N's hands only at the end of the car ride, the girl anticipated him.

"Hello Mrs. Dubois, I'm Agent Cobain and this is Agent Hetfield," she indicated him with a quick serious and professional glance.

Dean nearly rolled his eyes, so he couldn't pick the Metallica singer's name but she could use that surname surely borrowed from the Nirvana singer.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about your husband."

The woman, at first seemed reluctant to let them in but then she made them sit inside her immense residence.

The house very large and obviously belonged to someone very rich.

Bernard Dubois was a financier, the woman explained.

"In the financial field, it's impossible not to have enemies," said Fleur, also of French origins like her husband, between sobs. "The police said it was a wild animal."

A wild animal? In their house??

"We have to consider all possibilities," Dean informed her cordially. Routine sentence of a hunter that everyone believed.

"Do you know if your husband knew this man?" Y/N asked, showing her the photo of the second victim who died under the same circumstances.

"Of course. He was my beloved Bernard's business partner. The manager."

Bingo!, Y/N thought immediately, exchanging a knowing look with Dean, sitting next to him.

So as Dean imagined the two victims had known each other and also for quite some time.

"They were working on the Lake Eire project," explained the woman, her nose red and her eyes tired.

Dean and Y/N raised their eyebrows in the exact same confused expression.

"They're building a dam," she added, when she noticed their questioning faces.

"Oh," they said in unison.

There was a silent pause during which Y/N ​​and Dean looked at each other, accomplices. Both were thinking the same thing: it was a matter of revenge, and since the victims were business partners and therefore knew each other, there was a sure connection to that lake.

"Your husband was found here, right?" Dean asked.

"Yes" the woman nodded and began to sob again.

Dean and Y/N felt sudden discomfort, both of them looking in opposite directions, not knowing what to say. "He was in our bedroom...how a-am I going to live without him?!"

Dean cleared his throat and asked Mrs. Dubois where the bathroom was. He followed the staircase, as suggested, but instead of reaching the last door on the left, he sneaked into the woman's bedroom, where the victim had been found. He pulled out the electro magnetic frequency detector, hopeful. But it didn't light up, nor did it make that weird, usual sound.

So he put aside the revenge-seeking ghost theory.

He sighed deeply and shook his head slightly then noticed something on the floor, it looked like a leaf or something. Dean frowned and picked it up. It was a seaweed... what was a seaweed doing in Bernard Dubois' bedroom?

So the targets all had something to do with that project. Y/N really hoped that that was the right lead because, frankly, she didn't see any other way to solve that fucking case.

As soon as she saw Dean get up from the couch, she knew his intentions. He would check upstairs while she continued to question the woman, even though she didn't seem to know much about business, at least not as much as her husband.

"Has this project been going on for a long time?" She could hardly ask her: the widow kept sobbing and sniffing.

The woman shook her head but not to convey her ignorance about it: it was a no.

"We came back from Paris specifically for this job. We've been here for a week... and now my beloved Bernard is dead!" And she started crying again.

"Excuse me, but these days have not been easy..."

"I can imagine that," Y/N nodded.

"I've seen him so seldom. Since the works began he was always on site: he monitored progress to calculate an approximate deadline." The woman said blowing her nose.

"So the dam is already under construction?"

"Agent Cobain, it will be better to go back to the police station" Dean's voice announced as he returned to the room: he had found something.

"Look at this!" Dean said handing her a plastic bag, back in the Impala.

"What the hell is that?" she asked looking at it.

"What does it look like to you?"

“Okay, let me ask you in another simpler way: what do you think a seaweed was doing in that guy's bedroom?”

He shrugged. "We need to check that dam."

It was quite obvious at that point that the answers to their questions were in that project. Whatever was affecting the victims was in that lake and had left them a souvenir before leaving.

"I bet that crap was also in the second victim's room," Dean said with conviction.

He drove until he reached Lake Eiere, where the dam seemed to be already under construction. There were a couple of workers here and there in orange hats setting up a surveillance system. A man dressed in black, in a suit and tie, observed the area with a dull gaze. Another, a little taller, clapped him on the shoulder in consoling pats.

Dean and Y/N glanced at each other and, as if reading each other's minds, decided that those two were the right ones.

"Hi," Dean said, showing them his FBI badge. "Agent Hetfield, and this is my partner, Agent Cobain."

“We're investigating the deaths of Bernard Dubois and Mark Stern,” he added professionally.

"Weren't they attacked by a…?" stammered one of them, the shortest, in confusion.

"No," Dean replied dryly. "They were killed."

The two looked frightened, as if they were aware of the danger they were all in, because they were the other two business partners.

"You are?" Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Michael Connors and Peter Johnson," answered the taller man, considerably less traumatized than his colleague. “Bernard and Mark worked with us on this project.”

Dean and Y/N exchanged a quick glance, aware that those two would be the next victims.

After the usual routine questions, they didn't come up with anything new: no enemies in particular (not to want them dead, at least), no suspicious behavior from builders, engineers or anyone working on that project.

"We have to follow them," said Y/N as they walked away, raising her head to the sky, noticing that the sun was already setting over the construction site. And from what they understood that thing that was attacking business partners especially loved the dark. "We'd better keep an eye on them, after all that thing probably lived in the lake and could attack them even now." Y/N said next to Dean once they got back into the Impala.

They walked around the block to make the two think they were gone but after a few minutes they were hiding in the small place around the lake, an ideal location for a stakeout.

"So we are going to follow them, probably spend a sleepless night and wait for a monster to attack them. And we don't even know what it is or how to kill it?" She heard Dean complain. "Right, that's so clever!"

“But it's the only thing we can do. We don't have time to go back to the motel and do more research, we risk losing another fucking partner!"

"We don't even have anything to eat!" Added Dean dramatically, Y/N rolled her eyes even though, thinking about it, it wasn't a good plan at all.

"And which of the two are we gonna follow?" He asked indicating Michael and Peter with a nod of his head. "As lucky as we are, we'll end up following the man dropped from that bastard's menu."

"I don't think it will be a problem," she murmured with a frown, following the shadows of the two men moving towards the same car. "Company car?"

"I don't know, but we'd better keep up with them."

The two partners got into the dark and shiny car, then they left and Dean did the same, following them staying a bit far away, without attracting attention. The journey was very silent, neither of them spoke, maybe because they were too tired even to fight, even though that was their favorite hobby when they were together.

"Look" Y/N said after a while, nodding towards the car in front of them.

It had just turned right, entered an alley that led to the garage of a small house. Dean watched the scene frowning, then exchanged a look with his colleague. He pulled up across the street and they both stopped to look at the two guys. They looked like they were hiding something, and they moved stealthily, as if they were afraid of being discovered. Were they going to do something illegal or something?

It was clearer when, after the two men had entered the house, one of the ground floor windows lit up and they saw the two guys right there, looking into each other's eyes. The taller man slowly approached the other and then pulled him to him to kiss him on the lips.

Dean's eyes widened.

"Well, they say never reveal your next move, right?" The girl sitting next to him laughed.

"Y/N, c'mon! Those two are married and have kids."

"Do you think I've never seen worse?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

Dean rolled his eyes. “D-do you think… we should go in there?”

"What is it, you wanna join them?" She laughed and Dean just snorted.

Night continued to fall, dark, making that scene more intimate for the two in the house and more complicated for the hunters in the car who, unlike the first ones, were certainly not having a good time.

"How do we kill it?"

"I like to improvise," Y/N said, brushing her hair back with a lazy wave of her hand: just another way of saying she didn't have the faintest idea.

"Very enlightening, thank you," Dean said sarcastically, shaking his head.

He noticed with relief the two had disappeared from in front of that window. They had probably moved upstairs to the bedroom. He glanced at his watch: midnight.

"Well, at least they'll die happy and fulfilled," he joked, with a smirk that faded as Y/N glared at him. "I'm just trying to look on the bright side."

Several hours passed and when Dean checked his watch again, it said two in the morning. He was desperately trying to keep his eyes wide open, but his lids were closing on their own from exhaustion. Y/N, on the other hand, seemed attentive, staring at the house as if she expected to see something at any moment.

"Dean?"

"I'm awake!" he exclaimed suddenly. He was not always a good liar.

He had dozed off despite his best efforts, but he opened his eyes and rubbed his face, stifling a yawn.

"What's up?"

"The thing. It's here."

Tags: @eevvvaa @spn730015 @supernatural111222 @youcancallmelily @clairenovakanddeanwinchester @dads-on-a-hunting-trip @3amstillawake @supernaturalmess @marvelandsupernatural @agirlwatchingalotoftvshows @candy-coated-misery0731 @impalaslytherin @rudy-the-winged-wolf @dean-winchester-6767 @samanddeansannoyingsis @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse @random-spn-fan

Series: @stitchintimefan

[blade-liger-4ever]

Green Lantern Series: Episode 2.

We see Hal as a boy attending Martin's Catholic funeral alongside his mother and brothers. It's raining as the procession takes place outside, and Hal begins to cry as Martin's coffin is lowered into the grave. Jim, barely six years old, clings to his side and hugs him, not understanding the situation but wanting to comfort his brother. As Hal hugs him back, he slowly regains control of himself before he hears Jessica Jordan (his mother) sobbing profusely. Looking over, he sees his thirteen year old brother Jack Jordan trying to comfort her. Putting an arm around Jim, Hal walks over to them, wiping his eyes with his free sleeve as they approach. However, just as Hal says "Mom," Jessica turns to look up at him, her age having abruptly accelerated by five years, and gray is now showing in her hair.

Looking at him with pained and angry eyes, Jessica demands, "Why are you so much like him, Hal?"

Hal steps back, finding himself backed into the screen door as he is now age thirteen-fifteen. He blinks, chest heaving and reaching behind him for the doorknob as Jessica screams, "WHY ARE YOU LIKE YOUR FATHER?!"

Twisting the knob, he turns and runs outside, the door slamming behind him in time with the sound of a hammer pounding in the distance.

In bed, Hal jolts awake, lying on his back and shaking his head as the hammering sound continues. Blinking, he looks over at his clock, seeing it's only just seven in the morning. Throwing off the now sweat covered blankets, Hal asks his ring what the time is as he stumbles over to a set of drawers for his clothes. The ring replies that it's early Saturday morning, and that he has to arrive for the peace treaty between Kadar Zee and Sorca by ten a.m. standard Earth time. Pulling out his clothes, Hal belatedly realizes that the hammering is coming from his door, and chucking his garb for the day onto the bed, sprints for the door. Unlocking it, he opens it to find no one there; he scans the halls, only seeing a shadow turn the corner before a paper on the door catches his eye. Pulling off the paper, Hal realizes it's an eviction notice giving him until the end of the week to pay his expenses before he's kicked out.

Grumbling about his schedule and lowering pay, Hal goes to shower. Once clean and changed, he goes to have breakfast with Pie and discuss the development. As they discuss it, we learn that Hal's not scheduled to work for Ferris Aircraft on the weekends, and that he needs a side job of some kind to pay the bills. He gently rebuffs Pie's offer to loan him some money, and brushes off the idea of getting some from Jim; when asked about Jack, Hal's expression sours and he replies, "Are you kidding me? Jack would press charges on me to free the landlord of me."

Pie can't help but whistle before murmuring, "Must suck having an attorney brother who hates you."

Hal spares him a glance before tiredly sighing, "Tell me about it."

Paying for their meal and leaving, Pie asks about the length of the treaty and if there's any material in space he could grab to sell. Hal explains he should be back at circa 9 p.m., and that regular metals and jewels don't exist out beyond the solar system, adding irritably, "And don't get me started on the intergalactic currency. I'm still trying to figure out how space amoebas count as cents."

Pie nods, grimacing slightly before he glances up at a billboard that reads Neptune against Odysseus. Stopping, he snaps his fingers with a grin and suggests stopping by Neptune on the way home, informing Hal that Neptune rains diamonds, and that should he get enough of them, he could pawn the gems off on the east side of Coast City. Grinning, Hal notes he'd have to get the radiation and what not off before selling them, but that it could work. Thanking his best friend, the two hug and part ways before Hal leaves for a low profile jump to lightspeed.

At Ferris Aircraft, Carol files different reports and finishes writing up the paychecks for some of the employees before appointing CEO Gil Johns as supervisor for the day. Gil, concerned, asks if she's alright and if she needs a break from the work. Carol, pausing briefly, assures him she's fine and has a meeting elsewhere she needs to attend. Gil accepts this, but asks that she take a break from work every now and then, eventually putting his hands on her shoulders and, after a moment, hesitantly asks if she would like to go out for dinner with him sometime. Carol hesitates, slowly starting to smile before her new choker (the disguised Star Sapphire gem) pulses and calls forward memories of a romantic flight Hal cajoled her into joining a few months before. Tensing as the memory fades, Carol steps back and refuses the offer; Gil's expression falls, and as he turns to leave, he reponds, "If nothing else Carol, find some time to enjoy yourself outside of work. I know what the business means to you, but I don't think your father would've wanted you to work on his enterprise to the point of death.

He leaves, but that's enough for Carol to stop with her hand on the doorknob, realizing the weight of his words and how much they mean to her. The choker glows, and the Zamarons force her to think of him as nothing but an aid to her work, who will otherwise stop her from getting Hal. Eyes glowing pink again, Carol give a cold smirk as she leaves.

Hal arrives at the peace conference between Kadar Zee and Sorca, finding his fellow GL negotiators are none other than his mentor Thaal Sinestro and Tomar Re. The three discuss Hal's early days as a member of the Corps under Sinestro's tutelage, with friendly banter between Hal and Tomar as they head into the hall where the meeting begins after a few moments. The meeting goes along well, but before the treaty is signed, one of the leaders is assassinated by a sniper shot. Hal and Tomar get the people inside to safety as Sinestro goes to locate the killer; as this happens, Hal and Tomar find a group of Kadar Zee terrorists in opposition to the treaty attempting to slaughter the ones inside who were encouraging the treaty. Tomar remains to protect the people while Hal handles the terrorists, and as this happens, we see Sinestro find the shooter a few miles out of the city. After a short scuffle, he captures the sniper and threatens him before the man names who hired him for the killing - a Sorcan politician. Satisfied, Sinestro suddenly breaks his neck, then dumps his body in a tar pit before returning to the city. There, Hal finishes with the terrorists just as Sinestro lands and informs them of what he learned, and when asked, claims that the sniper committed suicide afterwards (note, GL rings are designed against killing - which also means Sinetro killed him with his bare hands).

This causes things to drag out, but the Sorcan politician is arrested and the treaty is scheduled for the next day. Sinestro notices Hal's uneasy pacing, and asking him what's wrong, Hal admits he was hoping to head home and get some extra cash to pay off the bills, explaining the toll that his personal work has taken on account of his GL activities. Sinestro, being his superior and higher ranking in the Corps, tells Hal to return to Earth and handle his own affairs, adding that this position in the treaty for him was more of an honorific, and that he can tell the Guardians that urgent business on Earth called him away. Thanking him, the two shake hands before Hal departs.

Stopping by Neptune, Hal considers his options for a moment before flying in the direction of the winds, collecting a chunk of diamonds in a ring powered net. Satisfied with the amount, Hal begins his trek back to Earth. However, just as he reaches Mars, a blast catches him in the back, causing him to lose the diamonds. Spinning around, he finds Star Sapphire, who gloats that he owes her some attention and a death - his own.

Confused and now angry, Hal and Star Sapphire go at it for a few minutes, until they reach a stalemate. During the pause, Star Sapphire chuckles and declares, "My my, I wonder what the Guardians see in you, Hal."

Eyes widening, Hal questions how she knows his name, and Star Sapphire replies in mock indignation, "Oh, you don't remember me? Not even after all our time together, or do you just prefer to stay in the past with the memories of your father?"

Immediately Hal recalls his father's crash, as well as Carol crying inside the office after the fact as he sat numbly in a corner. Now too angry to even think of the implications of her words, Hal straight up attacks her, quickly putting Star Sapphire on the defense before he pulls back for a hard blow.

Eyes flickering back to blue, Star Sapphire chokes out, "Hal, wait!"

He freezes, everything clicking into place as he breathes out shakily, "Carol?"

They stare at each other for a moment, lost in shock and horror. Then the gem glows, and Star Sapphire purrs sultrily, "Well, that was quite the performance, Jordan. I'll remember it when I find you again."

Theres a blinding flash, causing Hal to shield his eyes. Looking back, Hal finds himself alone, and too confused and exhausted to search for where the diamonds are, he returns to his home. Changing back to himself, Hal staggers into his apartment, entering the building and heading to his bedroom to charge his ring (where we hear the Oath recited for the first time). Putting the ring on the side desk, Hal lets the lantern disappear before staring out the window at the full moon. He shrugs out of his day clothing and tumbles into bed; looking at the calender, he sees the circle on Sunday for his date with Kari, which says they'll meet at one p.m. at her grandmother's curiosity shop. He stares at it, recalling the last date he and Carol went on, then groans and buries his face in his pillow, muttering, "Why me?"

At Ferris Aircraft, Gil closes the business for the day and finds a recorded message in Carol's office for him. In it, she says that she thought about what he said, and has decided to take a leave of absence for about a week or possibly more, leaving the company in his care. After a pause, she adds, "Thank you Gil, for being there for me. I appreciate it - so much."

The message ends, and Gil stares at it for a moment. Although uneasy, he finishes locking up the place, preparing to leave before he heistates; walking back to the desk, he takes a copy of the message and leaves, turning the lights out.

Moonlight shines on the phone through an open window, and the speaker glows pink before the scene cuts.

@edgar-allan-possum episode 2 was delayed due to crazy circumstances, but it has now debuted! I hope it meets company standards!

[mj-skyair-star]

█🕹️👾🎮Chapter 12: Waiting (Part 2/2)░▒▓█

March 29th, 2036, Saturday, 9:50 a.m. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We met with the rest of the group again. They all remained on the same bench chatting away like everything was normal, everyone except Jet Greez. Until the group detected us, Airis and I shared the wonderful news that got them exceedingly enraptured like we were celebrating another new fantastic year. Jet Greez, on the other hand, might care less about it so I'm not unforeseen of him. The only time I would actually be astonished is if he cheers for someone whose life has been saved... Or he could be hiding his care.

Soon we began chatting among ourselves, well, more like chatting with Airis, our first human being to interact with. We basically questioned her about Real- er, Earth (is what she wants us to call it rather than the name 'Real Earth'. We weren't sure about that, although we could understand) since this magnificent planet piqued our curiosity, unduly intrigue... of course, again, except for Jet. Although, he didn't join the group nor chat. I never comprehend why he always likes alone time for himself the majority of the time. Regardless, he watched us from a distance from where we were sitting (still at the same silver, shiny, metal table that Airis was sobbing over). It might sound a bit creepy of him, but I assure you, he's not... Let's just say he sees it as 'he's a part of it, just sitting/standing from afar distance'.

It's not like I'm going to force him anyway.

... I must admit, I deeply miss his extrovert side... He hasn't been very open to people since-...

... Since... since...

... I... get why he has become more of an introvert now...

Nothing you should know!

Because Oscar is resting adequately for a couple of hours, we can't have that serious sit-down discussion yet. In the meantime, at some point, we'll have to do something other than lounge around and chat. Not that I have a problem with that. I'm more of an active bot who likes to do activities most of the time or twenty-four-seven which is rare, primarily when it comes to running. I don't sit still willingly for more than three hours. If I have to, I would just let my leg stim.

I still want to learn about Earth, from a human child's knowledge, and so far, the answers were extraordinary indeed. I'll give it two hours of this!

***

Two hours later.

Alright! Two hours are up! This is perfect timing because things were just getting awkward at this point. Luckily, I came up with something to prevent that from happening. I stood up from the bench and suggested to everyone that we should play a game of Hoop Ball. My team extended their enthusiasm upon hearing those two words. Barring Airis, she didn't know what it was so I had to explain to her the game and rules. Then I got off guard when Airis told us that Hoop Ball is exactly a mixture of 'Basketball' and 'Netball', in her Earth understanding. HA, HA! Surely it is laughable! It's not the same as 'Basketball' and 'Netball'! I don't really believe it, and I don't think anyone else does either... Well... things did extensively turn into a mini remote debate, not in an adverse way, of course!

Everyone has different opinions and we should respect them no matter what.

... Excluding the problematic ones.

We all headed to the 'basketball' court (us robots call it the hoop court), located next door to the cafeteria to get ourselves ready.

Since I know Jet is likely to cheat, in some way, when he plays any game, I decided to make him the referee. He might also be likely to call false fouls. Even though I had never seen him as a referee before. For months (or feeling the foreverness of not seeing him face-to-face in general) I have zero ideas of what he's been up to apart from being there for Artron. From memory of the last time I played sports with him. I recall the previous time he actually cheated in Hoop Ball.

And boy, the moment I told him my decision of roles privately. As a result, I didn't think Jet would call it unfair. His response is: 'It's unfair because I was biased towards him just because he (Jet) betrayed us and worked with Artron from time to time.'

Listen. I know he betrayed Artron back, however, just because he did the same to him. That doesn't mean my trust towards him is open. I know Artron would have the same feeling too.

I find his words dull-witted. Again, I am only doing it because I don't trust him to participate in sports. He is capable of cheating at any time, and he will. I managed to convince Jet by pulling out the Qute card. Qute is the only bot who loves to play referee (also, she's quite small and doesn't like sports. Her words, not mine) howbeit she's unavailable, we don't have anyone else to be a referee. I win that unnecessary argument while Jet Greez grouches and agrees to take the role.

Moving forward.

The team were split into two groups: Me and Airis versus Obus and Grezzer.

Mectra and Kitt are cheerleaders for both teams as well as bench players who wait for teammates to switch places with them (Mectra is on my team and Kitt is with Obus and Grezzer). The two sat on the long blue bench, outside the lined court, cheering us on as well as waiting patiently for any switches.

Jet came into the court with the ball after we'd done our mini warm-up. He stood in the middle of the white-ringed line of the massive school court. Meanwhile, I positioned myself near Jet, standing on the opposite side of Grezzer, outside the ringed line. The body-built bot did the same position as I did. Me and Grezzer shared the competitive expression.

Following that, Jet held out the orange ball with black lines up between me and Grezzer. He had his whistle in his mouth... ready to blow it at any given moment... Things were slowly getting intense and overestimated the ambition of winning... and ignoring the certain grouchy bot sending me daggers.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The whistle was blown, shrilly, at the same time as Jet threw the interesting-looking ball in the air. This caused me and Grezzer to jump with our arms up and stretch as much as we could in the air, at the exact same time.

So who touched the ball first?

I did.

I slam against it, sending the rough orange ball flying past the orange bot's head to head towards Airis. Unfortunately, Obus caught it before she did.

Obus took three steps and passed it to Grezzer, who caught it. I rapidly sprinted, using my speed boost, to catch up to Grezzer and snatch it off him. I then took three big steps, close enough to shoot my goal, the sweet first-round victory in the hoop-

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Immediately after my throw, the sound of that high-pitched, irritating whistle paralysed me! My neon blue eyes stare at the ball, it misses the hoop, instead, it bumps into the orange ring. It lands on the clean, reflective court, bouncing away gradually... I am taken by what just happened... Me? Getting whistled? My mind rushes with thoughts of disbelief at how I could get whistled at in a game. I'm sure this was a mistake- Wait a minute!-

Brushing off the bizarre juncture, immediately, my programs got me reminded that I put Jet to be a referee. Turning around casually to see Jet jogging toward me with a sinister cocky smile spread across his face (that I decided to ignore) I frowned with a mix of suspicion behind it.

"In Hoop Ball, you're not supposed to use your special abilities or powers, remember?" He told me, once he reached for me and raised up a yellow card.

...

"Ugh! I completely forgot about that! How could I!?" I facepalm.

I stayed in that position for a couple more seconds due to the presence of embarrassment crawling up my system. This was reasonable to call out. I will admit, I retrospect on him a lot of times... Maybe I have judged him too hastily?

Jet smugly sniggers.

"You explained everything to Airis about this game. How could you forget it? Ha!" I rolled my eyes, giving out a short sigh. "First warning, Captain Bias," he whispered the last word so no one could hear.

He laughed mockingly at me yet I don't care, but what I do care about is that he'll aggravate me for the rest of the five rounds.

I simply walked away from him to run over to Obus with my speed boost deactivated this time. Grezzer has the ball and tosses it towards us. Obus and I jumped up to catch it. How ignorant of me. He caught it and threw it into the hoop at the speed of light.

"Ah-ha! Yes!" In victory, the red bot cheered.

"Team OGT on one point, TAM remains zero," Jet declared.

Mechtra and Kitt cheer wildly in the background, as well as, sharing support to keep trying towards me and Airis. It would be something that Airis needs because I noticed her feeling disappointed in herself.

I, on the other hand, let out a smirk.

My second in command made an excellent shot, as excellent as his combat skills. I admire a few things about his skill. Although, I am 100% confident that me and Airis can beat them. I'm sure of it.

The real game begins~

***

Another two hours later.

"Obus! I'm open! I'm open!" Grezzer cried out, waving his arms around like a baby bird trying to fly.

It was the final round. My team and Obus' team points were tied, we were getting eager to win a tiresome game..! More like the human girl is getting tired rather than the rest of us. Us bots don't get tired like humans, besides some of us run either charging or batteries.

Obus had the ball and threw it towards the strongest bot but I caught it before he did. With a smirk, I hurriedly took three steps and tossed it to Airis, thankfully she was already closer to our goal.

"Catch it, Airis!" I call out to her.

She opened her arms and caught it, then swiftly turned her heel to successfully throw it into the hoop!

Fortissimo, the whistle blew.

WOOOOOOOO!!!

"Game! Team TAM wins!" Proclaim the referee.

"Woohoo!" Me and Airis run towards each other and earn high-five for victory.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to something off to the side, near the two-way door. I diverted to see what it was and couldn't help but smile the moment I had the full view of it. My robotic blue eyes had spotted something remarkable that Airis will be on the top of the world.

"Hey, Airis," I tapped the pigtail girl's shoulder.

She turned to face me once she finished shaking hands with Grezze and the unsportsmanlike Obus (he accepted the defeat later on).

"What is it?" The girl inquires.

I gestured my head to the side, still grinning (to the point that I might look silly).

"Look over there." She took a quick glimpse and gasped in stupefaction, a great big smile forming on her face.

No- Please allow me to rephrase it. She jumped so high! Over the moon!.. Uh- Okay, now that I'm witnessing this more, maybe she's gotten too happy...

"Oscar!" The brown-haired girl bolted towards Oscar and Qute.

Qute briskly floats out of the way, knowing that Airis might hug her friend to death or knock him down to the floor (if she decided to jump on him for an unbreakable hug). I have never seen anyone with this much exhilaration. Even Oscar could see what was happening, judging by his smile turning a tiny bit crooked.

"A-Airis! Wait! Wait! Wait! WAIT!!!" Too late.

She braces herself for the cuddliest hug around him, very tightly... Hopefully not to death.

"I was so worried about you! I mean, sick to death! I'm so glad you're alive!" Airis looked like she was about to cry out of pure joy, meanwhile, Oscar became a limbed rag doll thanks to Airis' clutches crushing him.

"Miss- you- too- air-!" Oscar chokes his broken words due to oxygen drifting away from him.

"Oh, sorry!" Airis immediately released him and got tense that she hurt him though Oscar reassured her that he was fine, after gasping for air to catch his breath. "How are you feeling?" This time, Airis was much more tranquil and softer towards him.

"All... better..." Huffing, Oscar gave her a meek smile and a thumbs up.

It was a heartwarming sight to see two friends reunited together. Really, it is.

...

... Now it's time.

I became serious in my expression since we were approaching the main situation.

"Now that he's here, it's time to explain what is happening,"

"Children!" I called out to them. They both turned their heads towards me. I gazed at the members, sending them a message through my emotions. They know what that means so they become serious too. I face the children again. "I believe it's time to explain why we're here and what's been occurring around here,"

"Oh right. I nearly forgot about that." Airis says.

I approached the two before the others did.

"Please, follow me," with that, I walked past them to exit out of hoop court, knowing everyone followed my lead.

***

We led the two kids upstairs to the Computer Room.

Opening the blue wooden door, the human children gasped, whoaed, and commented on how cool the room was remodelled. The one comment I don't get is: 'This room looks like a meeting room from Star Wars!'... What's Star Wars?.. Possibly a video game that I wasn't aware of? (We turned the 'I.C.T' into our own style-like home. We'll fix everything once we defeat Artron and the ones that serve him).

I sat down on the desk chair across from where Oscar and Airis are sitting. Obus and Grezzer sit on my right side, Mechtra and Kitt are on my left. Qute just floated near Airis, and Jet Greez leaned on the wall near the door we just entered, arms crossed.

...

...

Silence had its time to shine long enough so I broke the silence. I am captain so I mostly do the talking, and yes, I allow others to speak as long as no one accidentally overlaps each other's talking. Especially when dealing with 'After you,' - 'Oh, no! After you!' type of problem.

I straighten my posture and lay both of my robotic arms on my desk, crossing them for my hands to dangle off the table edge.

"Since Oscar has been recovering for four hours, it is finally time to tell you what's going on,"- I inhale a short breath, steadily- "I believe you two have so many questions that you want answered, yes?"

"Yes," they both unison.

I earn them an earnest nod and continue the conversation.

"Would you rather hear the explanation of how we found out about this sinister plan, and why Artron and his associates want to kidnap you?"- I point to Airis for about a period of three seconds until I place my hand down.- "and then the questions last. Or the other way round?"

"I think hearing the story comes first. Obviously, we need a lot of explanation to understand how the heck you guys got here, or how you exist. Asking questions helps but it would take a lot of time if we didn't hear the explanation first. Particularly since the explanations do answer a considerable number of questions for you. Well, for some of them, I guess" Oscar replied.

"I'm with him," Airis answered after Oscar.

I nodded again and started explaining everything, not leaving a single detail behind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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<| Chapter 11

Chapter 13 |>

[magentagalaxies]

toronto day nine: final update

well, i'm back home from toronto now! or should i say back at my parents' house for the next month, because even tho i don't technically live there, toronto is absolutely my home.

my bus left at 9 a.m. this morning so of course i didn't get a full day of adventures like the other days, but since bruce is a morning person he was able to see me off this morning. he sent me a very sweet text that literally had me sobbing in the bus station, and around 2pm sent me a text that said "remember when we BOTH had sprite?!" (a reference to when we went out for fast food the night of day seven and after i ordered a sprite bruce copied me bc he, of course, was like "sometimes i want to be like my protege!") seriously bruce has two settings: extremely deep emotional conversations or extremely humorous non-sequiturs that make me go "how tf does your brain work???"

anyway, thank you all so much for going with me on this journey!! i'll probably do some sort of wrap up post tomorrow, but for now i'm very sleepy and just still super emotional about how much love i feel in toronto, especially from my comedy heroes like bruce and paul and even scott. and hey, as much as i wish i was still in town, i know i'll be back to help with bruce's rivoli show at the end of july!!

toronto day one update:

paul bellini sent me an email while i was on the drive up with the subject line "Toronto!" and the phrase "Let me know what's up so we can hang." he also invited me to a screening of a movie he cowrote that was never released called "hayseed" tomorrow and said "if you're here you must come." this is the most excitement i've ever seen in a paul email and i am living for it

bruce texted me last night to ask about my ETA and texted again while i was on the road. then when i got to toronto he told me to call him so we could discuss plans for this next week and when he picked up the phone he immediately went "is this my protégé?" and like even tho he calls me that all the time hearing his voice on the other end of the phone still made me super emotional like yep it's me we're in the same city now

long story short the guys are very happy to have me in canada again and i'm so happy that i almost started tearing up in the grocery store thinking about how supportive they are

[mull3ts]

[ 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞; 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 ]

⚠ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Smut, Dilf! Aged Up! Stepfather! Johnny, Condescension, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Cum Play, Cock Warming, Voyeurism, Mentions of Divorce.

Once Johnny realized you were fast asleep he got up to shower and then checked the time.

It was two a.m. and he had four missed calls from your mother. Walking out of his room and downstairs, he dialed her number. The call was quick, Johnny had simply stated he was tired and she let him go. So now he sat on the couch as per usual, just thinking. The only thing that was running through Johnny’s head was “divorce” honestly. His mind ventured to the moment earlier, god he really hated that atrocious mark on your pretty skin.

Soon enough it was already seven in the morning and Johnny had passed out on the couch. When you came down it was already eight and you were dressed in nothing but his button up. Mr. Seo didn’t seem to notice you as you walked down the stairs too engrossed in something outside while he gazed out the window, a hand in the pocket of his sweatpants and a cup of coffee in his hands.

You ran up to him, hugging him from behind, enjoying how his bare skin felt against you. Mr. Seo smiled contently when he felt your warm body pressed up against his. “Good morning, baby”

You hummed back, placing a peck to his cheek whilst on the balls of your feet.

God—did he have to be your stepdad?

W-wait, hang on.

"Y/N? Are you fucking listening to me?" Mr. Seo growled, shooting something more intense than daggers into your eyes.

You might've dozed off for a second. Whoops.

Mr. Seo wrapped his hand around the free part of the belt the was clad to your throat, pulling your face closer to his. "Are. You. Listening."

Nodding absentmindedly, you smile "Uh-huh"

Mr. Seo laughed menacingly in your face, "What a stupid little girl you are, Y/N" You whined at his words, trying to pull your face away from his to avoid eye contact. "Ah, ah, ah. I'm not done with you, baby" he cooed ominously, "I've still gotta fuck you"

He lifted your ass up in the air as the upper half of your body fell against his bed. He could feel his dick throb when he looked at your behind. Your ass was red, slowly becoming bruised; and your delicious cunt was dripping onto your inner thighs. All ready just for him to use. "You want my cock now, baby?"

You could only whine in response. "Are you even ready for it?" Mr. Seo snickered, rubbing your ass with his hand as if he was going to slap it at any given moment. "Y-yes! I-I am" you cried shakily as your tried to calm your sobs.

"Oh really now?" he asked, lining his dick up with your entrance, however you couldn't tell "Beg. Tell Daddy you want him"

"Daddy" you cooed "Please put it in me" you insisted oh-so politely.

Without warning, Mr. Seo shoves his dick inside you. "Fucking hell" he cursed, groaning after "Such a tight little cunt, how are you even gonna take me?"

His breath hitched when he felt the walls of your cunt flutter around him. You gripped the bedsheets, "D-Daddy...please j-just put it a-all in me!" You mewled while squirming around. "Anything for you, angel" he inhales sharply, thrusting his entire dick inside. Ignoring your helpless sounds that bounced around the room, he gave in to the demon in him.

The sounds you made were so sinful to Mr. Seo's ears that it honestly surprised him. "Huh, you like my dick shoved in that young pussy of yours?" he asked mockingly, holding your hips still and slamming into them. "Bet you're to type to like older men's dicks fucking you until you can't speak, aren't you baby?" he said cooing the end of the sentence. His words were painfully accurate. "Answer me" he demanded as he tugged on his belt around your throat. "I- I do!" you whined through tears, satisfying Mr. Seo.

"Boys your age just aren't good enough for you, are they Y/N?" Mr. Seo taunted. Whining between your teeth, you gave him an answer; "No, t-they're not"

"That's what I thought." he said grinning. His thrusts became harder with every word that came out of his mouth. "I know for a fact those stupid little boyfriends of yours can't satisfy you. And that's why you only want my cock. Am I right, little lady?"

Biting your lip, you nodded enthusiastically at his words.

Mr. Seo felt like your cunt could easily milk his cock with the oh-so-very vulgar noises that left your throat. He could feel your walls clenching and unclenching around him, easily boosting his ego.

Suddenly, Mr. Seo flipped you around to your back and immediately plunged his dick in your sopping cunt making you cry out and instinctively grab onto his bicep. Furrowing his eyebrows, Mr. Seo lifted one of your legs onto his shoulder—letting his length reach farther inside you.

One of Mr. Seo's hands held your leg up as the other tugged on the belt clad to your throat once more causing your cries to crescendo.

"D-Daddy! Just, j-just l-like that, ow!" you cried, his movements causing you to feel butterflies in your stomach. You looked down only to see the outline of his dick moving in and out of you. You could feel yourself drool at the sight of it.

"Awe look at you~" Mr. Seo cooed lovingly, "What? My cock makin' you dumb, little girl?"

Mr. Seo laughed to himself before mumbling, "Too dumb to speak".

"You've been such a good girl for letting Daddy use you, he's gonna let you cum as a reward. M'kay, angel?"

You nodded, absolutely wanting nothing but him.

"Now c'mon, baby, open your pretty lips for me" he murmured through clenched teeth "Do it now."

You immediately parted your pretty lips, Mr. Seo spat in your mouth chuckling afterwards as your eyes began to get hazy. He grabbed the belt, pulling your face closer to his. You swallowed, but opened your mouth again.

With an exceptionally rough thrust, Mr. Seo slightly raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Oh I see what you want" he said teasingly before spitting once more in your mouth.

Shortly after, you felt yourself reach a sensory overload as your orgasm felt closer and closer. Tears began streaming down your pretty face again as you whined, "Please, Daddy m'gonna...m'g-gonna cum!"

Suddenly Mr. Seo's movements came to a halt. "You're gonna cum?" he asked, harshly ramming your pussy. "Then make a mess on my cock like the filthy little girl you are"

You didn't need to be told twice as the moment the words left his mouth, your cunt pulsed around Mr. Seo's length. Your cries brought nothing but happiness to Mr. Seo as he watched you shuddered underneath him.

As you tried to catch your breath, Mr. Seo felt his own high come closer. All of a sudden, he pulled his cock out of your pussy and pulled your face closer to his dick—forcing it down your throat.

He ignored all your helpless sounds and pushed his cock past your gag reflex. "M'gonna cum in your mouth, baby. Lucky you're so damn cute"

With a snap of his hips, warm liquid flowed down your throat. Mr. Seo groaned loudly, throwing his head back.

Slowly, he pulled his length out of your mouth. Tapping your swollen lips once with it making your cheeks heat up.

He sat back against his head board, pulling your body close to him to remove his belt around your throat—discarding it somewhere on the floor before reaching to grab his white button up, handing it to you before you fell asleep in his arms.

Johnny woke up abruptly at seven in the morning to the sliver of sunlight that shined through the window. And suddenly he remembered he had a meeting scheduled in an hour. Quickly he shuffled off of his bed and went straight to the bathroom to clean himself. By the time he was finished you were wide awake.

"Where are you going?" you asked, looking at him with big eyes.

Mr. Seo blinked a few times before responding, "To work". He sat down on the edge of his bed to look at you closer, "Why? You wanna come with me?"

Without questioning him; you nodded. It's not like you had anything else better to do!

God you could literally smash that damn phone into pieces. It sat as annoying as ever while you heard some obnoxious secretary talk to Mr. Seo.

While he was taking another sip of the whiskey in his glass you decided to speak up. "Could you turn that stupid phone off, please?" Mr. Seo looked up from the paper he was reading, setting his pen down along with the phone, placing himself on mute probably. "Y-yes please excuse me for a moment. What was that, dear?" he questioned, moving a strand of his gelled hair out of his face.

"Can you just hang up with her? She's obviously wasting your precious time" you answered, pouting a little. He sighed, shaking his head "Oh c'mere, baby" He cooed motioning to his lap as you got up and straddled his crotch.

"Is someone jealous?"

Your cheeks heated up, "N-no, j-just wanted to treasure the time I have w-with you that's all". There was honestly no use in lying to him, you were jealous and you both knew.

"My little girl wants to spend time with me?" he questioned, ominously while his hands crept up your skirt. "Hmm, is that what you want? Tell your old man what you want"

You audibly gulped at his words, feeling wetness pool in your panties—how could he affect you this much? Running your hands through his gelled hair, you messed it up a little. You sighed before meeting his expectant eyes. How could somebody be so—perfect.

"I want you" you responded, succumbing to your feelings for him. Your reply made him smile, "That's what I thought. Now tell me where you want me".

You carefully held his wrist and guided it down to your area, chewing on your lip in embarrassment. Mr. Seo raised his eyebrows, "You want me there?"

You bobbed your head up and down before Mr. Seo lifted your skirt up and slid your panties down. He unbuckled his belt and pulled out his already hard cock.

Pushing his dick into your dripping pussy, he let out a quiet groan "Fucked this pussy last night and it still can't take cock". His words caused your face to heat up and you grasped his shoulders for support until he bottomed out. Sighing, you rested your head in the crook of his neck as he rested a hand on your back before picking up the phone and unmuting himself.

Mr. Seo quickly cleared his throat, taking another sip of his whiskey, "Now what were you saying miss? Oh yes I was calling about the divorce, i-is it finalized?"

Johnny tapped his foot impatiently as the lady began to scramble though her files. His breath hitched when you clenched around him causing you to giggle.

He swore he almost choked on his whiskey when the woman responded, "It is? It's finalized?" The woman gave Johnny all the reassurance she could to let him know his divorce was finalized.

So, yes, he was now an unmarried man.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | @jaesspresso @chicagosbigboi @neofucker420 @dieharddoyoungsquish @krispysun @yerimezzy @strangeduckvoid @morklee02 @phe2004 @hikaru-lana @k407 @3ranch @softieekayy @doieclayed @steamyjaehyun @p3achyjae @marksassybanana @nakamotocore @aslutformen @whlplazh @hyuckswifey @sunshinedhyuck @spear-bitch @yo-dreamrush @madame-viper @mrkleelvr @notraye-sproblem @johnnysuhnflower @seuomo

[mischief-managed-snitches]

Run for Your Life

Bishop x Gracie Part Seven

Gif Rights: Who ever the beautiful soul was that made this!! This is not mine, simply one I found and liked.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Nightmares

As always, I do NOT own anything Mayans related. I DO own my character and her story though.

My first language is English. I do know some Spanish but I am not fluent. I will be keeping the Spanish in this story to a minimum to avoid butchering a beautiful language. There will be some usage of terms of endearment and stuff though, praying they make sense!

A hand on Gracie's shoulder shook her awake. Her name being called softly, drug her from the darkness.

"Gracie? Gracie!"

Her tired eyes cracked open to see the bedside lamp illuminating her room. Letty sat on the side of the bed, gently shaking her shoulder. Gracie sat up with a gasp, scooting back against the headboard, hand pressed over her heart. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath escaping her in loud huffs.

"Gracie, hey, it's me. It's me!" Letty held up her hands, backing up a bit as she looked at her friend. Sympathy danced in her eyes and Gracie had to look away, suddenly overwhelmed with shame. Glimpsing the alarm clock from the corner of her eye, guilt tore through her as she realized it was only three a.m.

"I'm so sorry." She sniffed, pressing her hands to her face.

"You don't have to be sorry, Grace." Letty told her, speaking softly, a sadness to her voice that made Gracie feel even worse. She hated the idea of her issues causing someone else discomfort. "It's not your fault."

Nodding, Gracie wiped the back of her hand under her eyes. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, might make some tea, or something. You can go back to bed, Letty, I'm sorry for waking you up."

"Don't be sorry. Really, it's okay." Letty looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead, she simply gave her friend a small smile. Pushing off the bed, she left the room quietly.

Gracie waited a minute, wiping angrily at the tears that slipped from her eyes. Slowly, she got out of bed, walking to the door. Pausing with her hand on the knob, she listened to the voice's in the hallway.

"She okay?"

"I don't know. It was another nightmare. I don't know if it's better to wake her, or pretend we don't hear it. I think she's embarrassed by them."

Coco swore quietly. "She doesn't have to be. We don't blame her. It's not her fault."

"I know that, but she doesn't yet. We just have to keep telling her."

"I wish there was something more I could do."

"Me too..."

Gracie made a show of jiggling the knob, warning them she was coming. Their talking ceased and by the time she opened the door enough to come out, Coco was retreating into his room, Letty following with another soft smile pointed in her direction. Walking into the bathroom, Gracie closed the door behind her, turning on the fan as she sunk to the floor. The tears came hard and fast, leaving her shaking on the tile floor. Without thinking, she pulled out her phone, pressing the top contact before she could tell herself it was a bad idea. He picked up on the second ring, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hello?"

Gracie pressed a hand to her mouth, muffling the sob that rose in her throat. He sounded groggy, guilt slammed through her again. He was asleep.

"Gracie? You there? What's wrong?" He sounded more alert now, a shuffle in the background told her he was probably pushing himself up and out of bed. "Gracie? Are you okay?"

"Mhm." She moaned around the tears, afraid if she opened her mouth too wide, all her fears would come flying out.

"Are you at Coco's?"

"Yeah." She whispered, trying to pull in a deep breath.

"Do you want me to come get you?" He grunted on the other end of line, already pulling on his jeans, holding the phone in the crook of his neck as he buttoned his pants.

"Can you?"

"I'll be there in ten, sweetheart."

"Okay..." The line went dead as he shoved the phone in his pocket and grabbed his boots. Pushing herself off the floor, Gracie splashed some cool water on her face before tip-toeing back to her room and stuffing an outfit in her backpack. Sticking her toothbrush in with it, she pulled a strap over her shoulder and snuck out to the kitchen. Writing a brief note explaining her whereabouts and apologizing for disturbing them, Gracie waited outside at the the end of their driveway.

True to his word, Bishop's headlights greeted her exactly ten minutes after she had called, the rumble of his pickup breaking the silence of the night. He leaned across his bench seat, pushing the passenger side door open for her immediately after putting the truck in park. Climbing up into the vehicle, Gracie shut the door softly, turning back to the man beside her. His hair was tousled from sleep, his denim shirt hung open and slightly off his shoulder, exposing the blank sleeveless shirt underneath.

"Thank you for picking me up." She offered him a tired smile, her eyes meeting his and then bouncing away again.

Bishop noted the dark circles under her eyes and the droop in her shoulders. She looked exhausted. "Don't mention it."

He returned her smile before turning back to the steering wheel and shifting out of park. The silence inside the truck was deafening, not a word was spoken between them the entire drive. Bishop's hand tightened on the wheel when he caught her sniffling softly. The urge to hold her had his arms aching, fingers twitching in their want to touch her. Bishop's stomach dropped as he caught her lifting a hand to swipe away a stray tear.

"Shit, sweetheart." He stepped closer, reaching across her body to grab her backpack. Swinging it over his shoulder, he reached for her, large hands landing on her hips. She startled a bit, but didn't altogether pull away. In fact, she rotated her body, letting her legs dangle out of the truck. Tan legs in little sleep shorts, Bishop lifted his eyes, steering his mind away from the direction it was heading. Moving forward, he stepped in between them, dragging her hips forward and lifting her down. She gasped softly, hands flying to his shoulders to steady herself. If this wasn't such an emotional situation, Bishop would have loved to pull another gasp like that out of her pretty mouth, but now was not the time. Instead, he stood her on her feet, debating about wether or not he should pull her into a hug. He hesitated.

Seconds later, he pulled into his own driveway, cutting the engine. Jumping out of the truck, he strode around to her side of the cab, pulling open the door and stepping into her space as her bottom lip trembled.

Fuck, she was killing him.

Is that what she wants right now?

He wasn't sure. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he also didn't want to miss the opportunity to hold her if she was okay with it. Taking half a step back, Bishop dropped one hand away only to tug her forward with the other. His arm curled around her waist, bringing her close enough for him to rest his chin on top of her head. It was a loose side-sort-of hug, nothing too personal or intimate. Just a simple I'm here. A silent reminder in the dark hours of the early morning. She didn't lift her arms to return the gesture, although she did tip her forehead down, resting it against his chest. A shaky breath blew over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Stepping back, Bishop pushed the door shut behind her, guiding her toward the house with one arm still around her waist. She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth, blinking as if she were trying to reign everything in. He didn't like it. He hated when she tried to smother her feelings.

"It's okay, Gracie. I won't judge you if you wanna let it all out." Bishop felt like he needed to tell her that. Get it out in the open. Let her know that he wasn't afraid of emotion and certainly not hers. She didn't respond, but he knew she heard him, so he left it go.

Inside, he toed off his boots, pausing as she did the same with her ratty old sneakers. He'd be buying her a new pair, he noted, before the baby comes. Gesturing for her to follow, he lead her back the short hallway to his room. Sitting her backpack on the bed, he flicked on one of the bed-side lamps.

"Sorry, I don't have a guest room, but I'll gladly take the couch." He motioned to the queen sized bed, covers still rumpled from where he had thrown them back in his hurry to leave. "You can sleep here."

"I don't want to put you out." She mumbled, eyes on the floor, fidgeting with her oversized shirt nervously.

"Little late for that, querida." It was supposed to be a joke. Just a silly little sentence to lighten the mood, but judging from the way her head jerked up, Bishop immediately wished he had just kept his mouth shut.

"I'm so sorry! I knew I shouldn't have called! I..." Bishop stepped toward her, gently touching her cheek, sliding his hand down to her chin. Cupping it easily, he lifted her eyes to meet his.

He pleaded with her. Begged her. Hoped and prayed she would understand just how deep he was in. He wanted her, no, needed her to get that. To know that she was not a burden. She was not putting him out or making things too difficult. Never.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid. I was just teasing, sweetheart." Bishop apologized, watching her lip tremble as her watery eyes looked back at him. "I told you earlier that my door is always open, that you could always call me. I promised to help in any way possible and I meant that, Gracie." He held her gaze, trying to convey his seriousness through his expression. "You're not putting me out. I'm actually so glad you trust me enough to call me in a situation like this. Gracie, you could never be an inconvenience to me."

She didn't respond right away, just looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes. She seemed to be gauging his sincerity, figuring out if he meant the things he said, or was just talking a good game. He didn't like the doubt he saw in her eyes.

"Do you hear me, querida? Never."

She looked at him a moment longer before nodding awkwardly in his hold. "I hear you."

Bishop let out a breath, drawing her face closer by his gentle hold on her chin. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he released her, stepping back a bit to let her breathe.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Food? Anything at all?"

"No, thank you." She answered, turning to sit on the side of his bed.

"Do you wanna talk about it? The reason you were crying at three a.m.?" He asked her. He knew it was a long shot, knew she probably wouldn't give him any details, but he had to put it out there.

"Not really." She yawned, rubbing beneath both of her eyes. Her shoulders slumped a bit as her gaze fell to the floor. "I'm so tired."

"That's okay, I'll gladly listen anytime you want to talk, but for now try to get some rest." He watched her lay back in his bed, nestling beneath the blankets. "You're safe here, Gracie. I won't let anyone hurt you." Bishop promised her. She nodded in response, blinking back at him in the dim light of the room.

"If you need me, I'll be out in the living room." Bishop retreated to the door, resting his hand on the knob. "If you do have another nightmare, please don't be embarrassed, or feel guilty. Yell if you need to, scream if it will help chase the demons away, I don't care. I've been there, fighting my own brain, there's no judgement here with me."

Gracie gaped at him, his words surprising her. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to have 'trauma.' Mentally, she kicked herself, how judgemental of her. Just because he looked like a rough biker, doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings or emotional stress in his life. How dare she assume that her experiences were worse than his. She was ashamed of herself.

She stammered out an 'okay' before he was leaving and closing the door behind him. She knew she was safe. She knew he posed no threat to her, but the idea of him laying just down the hall made her heart race. Refusing to unpack the reason as to why that was, Gracie turned on to her side, pulling the covers up around her chin. Bishop's smell flooded her senses. Breathing in deeply, she snuggled in, imagining him laying next to her as her eyes drifted shut.

Morning came too quickly and the sound of soft knocking had Gracie groaning as she rolled over. A rich scent wafted around her as she stirred in the sheets. A smell she only could describe as uniquely Bishop. Something dark and rich and slightly resembling the shop where he fixed vehicles. Peeking through her lashes, she saw Bishop cracking the door.

Bishop opened the door slowly, giving her the chance to yell if she was changing. She didn't so he continued. A smile lifted his lips as a sleepy groan greeted him. She wasn't even up yet. The blankets were tucked up to her chin, nearly hiding the slow, sleepy smile that tugged at her lips. His stomach squeezed as she did a little stretch, a high pitched noise escaping her closed lips. Fuck, he would be though if she did that again...

"Buenos días, querida." He murmured, stepping into the room. His eyes flashed with amusement. She looked cute as hell laying in his bed, curls sticking out everywhere, eyes barely open... God he wanted to kiss her so badly.

"Sorry to wake you, but I need a fresh set of clothes." He nodded toward the dresser, looking a bit guilty.

"It's o-" Gracie yawned again, her words trailing into an incomprehensible garble.

Bishop grinned. How could a person be so adorable just waking up in the morning? He didn't know, but he loved it. "Wanna come have breakfast with me, or would you rather go back to sleep?"

"What time is it?"

Bishop smiled again at the sound of her gravelly morning voice. "Ten o'clock."

"Don't you have to get to the scrapyard?" She furrowed her brow, frowning as she looked around for a clock.

"They can manage without me for a bit." Bishop shrugged, shooting her a crooked grin. What he didn't tell her was that he already called and told them he'd be late. He had been hoping she'd wake up and eat breakfast with him and it wasn't until he was knocking on her door that he realized getting fresh clothes was just an excuse to see if she was up yet. He was so selfish. He should've just gone to work and let her sleep...

"Okay... Then let's eat." Gracie, who had propped herself on her elbows during their exchange, sat herself upright. Stretching again, Bishops eyes followed the blankets as they fell away. Her sleep shirt was twisted, pulled tight around her middle and showing off her little baby bump. Bishop averted his eyes, turning toward the dresser to avoid watching her back arch the way he knew it would when she stretched. God, if he had to stand there and watch her perky breasts push up into the air one more time... She was killing him and she wasn't even trying.

He turned just as her hand dropped to her stomach. "Oh!" Her eyes widened, meeting his as he strode toward her.

Pulling a fresh pair of jeans out of a drawer, he opened another, looking for a tee shirt. He heard her shuffling a bit, probably scooting to the side of the bed. Shutting both drawers, he took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as he prayed her sleep shorts hadn't ridden up too far. Lord help him. He had to reign this shit in before he completely scared her off.

"Kicking again?" Bishop asked, struggling to mask his excitement.

"Yeah... Want to feel?" She wasn't sure if she should have asked him that, he probably thought she was weird, but it felt right in the moment their eyes had locked.

Bishop nodded, swallowing hard as he sat down beside her. Reaching across his body, he gently laid his hand on her bump. Gracie covered it with her own, dragging it to the side, almost the whole way to her ribs.

"She's over here this morning."

Bishop huffed out a laugh, "that's the second time you said she. Is there something you're not telling me?" He grinned as he felt the same flutter as the day before. "Shit... They've gotta be about kicking you in the ribs."

"Pretty much! And no, I don't know anything for sure, I just don't want to keep referring to the baby as it." She shrugged, daring to leave her hand over his even though he didn't need any further direction. Bishop watched her smile fade, missing the way it lit up her face and made her eyes shine.

"Do you want the baby to be a girl?"

"Kinda..." Gracie took a breath, bowing her head to avoid his eyes. "I'm afraid that if it's a boy, he'll turn out like his father." She whispered.

Bishop stiffened, this was the first she mentioned the man. She'd never willingly spoke about him before, not to him, or anyone that he knew of. She started to pull her hand away, but Bishop grabbed it again, threading his fingers though her's, he brought their joined hands back to her stomach. Giving her hand a soft squeeze, he silently offered his comfort, hoping she'd keep talking.

"I... I don't know what I'd do if my son... If he behaved the way that-" She choked on her emotions, clearing her throat before continuing. "I don't wa-nt to bring someone like that into the world. I-I don't want to be the reason someone else suffers."

Bishop rubbed slow circles into her hand with his thumb, wrapping his free arm around her back. Her confession tore him open, left him struggling to find words to speak. Every thing that wanted to come out would have sounded fake. Like he was reading prompted answers. So instead he just pulled her tighter against his side, sighing as she leaned into him so easily. He expected her to fight it, to be too stiff and pull away, but she didn't. In fact, she rested most of her weight against his side, pushing out a heavy breath. After a few minutes, he was able to gather his thoughts. He pieced together his words carefully.

"Like you suffered?"

She didn't speak, only nodded against his chest, breathing quickly as she fought the urge to cry. Fuck. Was this it? Was this her openly admitting that she had been in an abusive relationship? Bishop had drawn conclusions of course, it was fairly easy to put together given some of her behavior, but she had never spoken the words to confirm it.

"I can't put anyone else through that."

"That wouldn't be your fault, Gracie. You know that, right? What a grown adult does or does not decide to do is never anyone's fault, but theirs."

No answer. Just shallow breathing.

She sniffled against his chest, closing her eyes and letting him hold her. And he did for several long moments, then he was dropping her hand and reaching for her chin. Cupping it carefully, he lifted her face to look at him.

"No matter what the baby is, boy or girl, I have complete faith in you, Gracie. You'll raise them right, I know it. You'll teach them how to respect people, how to treat others the way they want to be treated, how to love." Bishop pressed his lips to the top of her head, holding her a little closer and a bit tighter. "This baby will turn out to be am amazing human being and I know that because they have you as their mom."

"Gracie, that baby will be just as sweet and kind as you. You'll do an amazing job and if you need help, there's no shame in that. I'll be here every step of the way if you let me." Bishop promised her, releasing her chin, he slid his hand around to the back of her head. Burrowing his fingers in her curls, he tugged her forward, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

He marveled at the way she let him touch her, hold her, comfort her. The way she seemed to relax under his words, it was as if she just needed to hear someone else say what she's clearly been hoping. Reassure her doubts. Chase away her fears. Bishop gave her one more squeeze, breathing in her sweet smell before reluctantly pulling away.

"Let's go eat, querida."

She hummed her agreement, following him off the bed. "I'm going to get dressed then I'll be out."

Bishop nodded in response, opening the door again only to pause when she called out to him. Turning slightly, he met her watery eyes, her expression tugging at his heart.

"Thank you." She heaved, letting out a heavy breath as she attempted to pull herself together.

He didn't know what to say so he smiled, nodding again before retreating out the door. Closing it behind him, he let out his own relieved breath. He had been so close to telling her things she wasn't ready to hear. Now wasn't a good time to spill his guts he told himself. Hell, this was the first time she's ever even been in his house. His bed. They only ever kissed once! He can't go spouting his feelings yet... She'd probably laugh at him.

Gracie waited until the door latched behind him before changing out of her pajamas and into some regular clothes. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she neatly made his bed and walked to his full-length mirror. Attempting to tame her hair, she tsked loudly at her reflection. Her cheeks flushed red. He saw me like this? She cringed. Great.

Bishop hummed a tune quietly as he made a pot of coffee. Pausing, he turned as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. Dark eyes took her in, from her bare feet to her tight, black leggings, to her simple, blue tee shirt. This one fit her a little better than the shirt she slept in, hugging her belly in way that made it look even rounder. God, she was beautiful. He noted the way her curls seemed finger-combed, like she had tried to smooth them down a bit, but they really just had a mind of their own. He loved it.

"What?"

"Nothing, come on." He nodded to the counter where various ingredients sat waiting. "Would you like eggs or pancakes?"

"I'm not sure..."

"Which sounds better to you?"

"I haven't had pancakes in a long time, I'm not sure I remember what they taste like." She answered quietly.

"Not remember... What?" Bishop couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I guess I'm making pancakes then, you'll love them."

"Okay."

She watched him stir the batter together, adding chocolate chips to some while leaving others plain. When they were done and the kitchen smelled like a bakery, Bishop plated the the food and carried it to his table. Already on there was a jug of orange juice, a carton of milk, two mugs for coffee, a bottle of syrup and bowl of mixed fruit. He was prepared, all they had to do was sit down and eat. And they did. He let her get her food first, only when she had a pancake on her plate did he plop two on to his own.

"Chocolate chip. Good choice." He grinned, gesturing to her plate before picking up the syrup.

She smiled, spreading a little butter on the top like he had. She followed his lead, adding a spoonful of fruit and a squirt of syrup to the pancake. Pausing, she rubbed her arm awkwardly, picking up a fork and twisting it in her fingers.

"Everything okay, querida?" Bishop lifted a brow, watching her shift in her seat. "Did you want the eggs instead?"

"No, no this is fine."

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah I just..."

"What is it?" He encouraged, concerned over her newfound anxiety.

Taking a small bite, she hesitantly wrapped her lips around the fork. Chewing quickly and swallowing hard, eyes lifting to the ceiling briefly before dropping back to his.

"Sweetheart, if you don't like it, you don't have to eat it.

"No, it's not that." Gracie sighed, taking a deep breath. "I just don't really know how to do this."

"Do what?" Bishop's brow furrowed, lips drawing into a frown, his food momentarily forgotten.

"This," she gestured between them. "Small talk, sharing a meal with someone, all of it."

"Gracie, I don't understand." He spoke softly, gently even, like he knew this was linked to her heavy past. "You've eaten with Coco and Letty, right?"

"That's different... I- I was never allowed to eat with him." She whispered. "We didn't do this. Eat. Talk..."

Bishop stiffened, dropping his fork on the table. "So where did you eat?"

Gracie looked away, rubbing her arm self-consciously.

"Gracie, tell me you ate regularly." He ground out, dark eyes pinning her with a look she couldn't decipher. "Tell me he didn't deprive you of a basic human need like food."

"Mostly I stood in the corner, waiting for him to tell me what to do. Sometimes he'd tell me to get him a drink, or something... Sometimes he just ate and left. Then I would clean up, sneak bites of what was left." She shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek. "Mainly, I tried to stay out of his way."

Bishop pictured her like that. Standing in a corner, afraid, waiting to be yelled at. It turned his stomach. Red-hot anger burned through him, clenching his fists, he bit back a string of swear words. He'd love to gut that fucker. With a rusty butter knife. Uncurling his fist, he reached across the table, gently taking her hand. It trembled in his grasp, her body reliving memories he wished he hadn't trudged up. Rubbing his thumb in a slow circles on the back of her hand, Bishop spoke.

"Gracie, what did you tell me the other night?"

"I... I don't know."

"Think, sweetheart, it's okay." He urged her, wanting to talk this through with her. "When we were talking, I told you I wouldn't hurt you. What did you say to me?"

"Th-That I know you weren't him? That... That you were nothing like him."

"Yeah, Gracie, that's right." Bishop continued to rub circles into her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present, focused on him. "I am not him. I will never be him. That piece of shit..." Bishop trailed off, taking a breath in an attempt to calm himself. "I'm not here to boss you around, or make you stand in the corner, or fucking starve you." Another deep breath in. "I want to help, not hurt. I want you to get your sleep and eat whatever the hell you want. I want you to have friends and enjoy my company and share all my meals with me. I want you to talk to me about anything, about everything. I..." He tried to clear the lump in his throat. "I hate that you were treated like that. It fucking tears me up."

Gracie looked back at him, eyes swimming with tears, lip quivering. "Obi..."

"Gracie, I am so serious." He breathes. "I won't let you go through that again, not now, not ever." She nods in response, some how offering him a small smile despite her tears. "Now, I want you to pick up that fork at the same time I do and take a big bite. Chew it slowly and savor it. That fucker isn't taking anything else from you, not while you're with me. We're going to have a great breakfast together and afterwards I'm doing all the dishes and you're going to go relax."

Gracie nodded again, biting back more tears as he grabbed his fork. She copied him, picking it up hesitantly. Watching him spear a bit of the fluffy breakfast food, she did the same, lifting it to her lips and taking a bite. She chewed slowly like he'd instructed, letting the flavors burst over her tongue. Sweet pastry, tangy fruit, sugary syrup. An embarrassing moan escaped her as she let herself enjoy the food.

Bishop watched her, pleased that she had listened, that sound hitting him low in the gut. Fucking hell. He wanted to walk right around the table and kiss her. Hard.

"What?" Her wide eyes looked back at him, taking in his dark eyes twinkling with a foreign emotion.

"Nothing, you're just beautiful." He grinned, taking another bite as she flushed a bright pink.

Gracie dropped her eyes back to her plate, but he didn't miss the small smile she tried too hide. He would be just fine with many more mornings like this. Just the two of them, eating together and enjoying each other's company. He'd work the rest of his life to keep that smile on her face.

[ewshannon]

I Love My Mother's Killer

Photo by: E. W. Shannon (c) 2020

I Love My Mother's Killer

by

E.W. Shannon

At three a.m. on a Sunday morning, through a glass door, I saw mother take her last breath. The ICU doctor warned it wouldn't be a long drawn out process, but I think even the nurse and the respiratory therapist were a bit surprised at how quickly she stopped. Stopped being alive. Stopped being Mabel Harper. Stopped being Mom and Grandma. I was a little shocked at how fast she went from being my mother to being 'the body,' almost as if I could see the tether between her and the ethereal part of the universe sever in front of me.

I stood outside, in my hospital booties, gown, gloves, hair cover, mask, and face shield while they removed her breathing tube. Her nurse, Vanessa, looked up at me when she realized how quick death had come. She came out of the room, took a deep breath, and gave me the news. "I'm sorry Mr. Harper, she's already gone." She paused to let me process and perhaps breakdown. When it became obvious, I wasn't going to go into hysterics, she continued. "Just let the respiratory therapist come out and then you can go in."

"No, that's okay." I started taking off the protective gear and felt guilty at having wasted it just to stand in a hallway. Talking to strangers has never been a strength of mine and the circumstance of my mother's death, or I guess any death, made it even worse. All the autistic tics and traits I had worked so hard on to lessen or get rid of came back like somebody poured them over me from a bucket. The stutter, the inability to look someone in the face, the sweating, all descended upon me at once. "I-I-I-Is there a-a-a-anything else y-y-y-you need from me?"

Vanessa placed a hand on my arm. Even through my shirt and the gown and her glove, I could still feel her warmth. "You want to sit down?"

"N-n-n-n-no, I-I-I-I'll b-b-be okay. I just need to go d-d-d-d-do a b-b-breathing exerc-c-c-c-ise." On top of all the sweating and stuttering I had unconsciously begun crying and hadn't even realized it.

"Okay. Um, no, there's nothing else we need right now from you. We'll call the mortuary and they'll be in contact with you." She half looked at me with pity and half with awe. For months now her world had been a constant dialogue about COVID; for over a week she had seen me as a competent sane man, and now a certified medical freak stood in front of her coming apart at the seams. Having an evolving medical curiosity in front of her must have been a nice change of pace from the pandemic.

"Thank you for e-e-everything."

"No problem. Sorry for your loss." She patted my arm again and I felt her shift internally. Her voice changed into a hospital administrator to catch my attention. "Make sure you leave the face mask on until you leave the building and use hand sanitizer as you exit this unit, as well as when you exit the building downstairs.

"Thank you."

She went back into my mother's room and pulled a curtain across the glass door.

I don't remember leaving the unit, how I got downstairs and exited, how I found my car in the parking garage, or if I ever used any hand sanitizer. I just remember sobbing with my head leaned against the steering wheel, my tears snaking their way through the Chevy emblem before falling into my lap. Eventually I started the car and headed home. At first, I tried to craft what I would say to my daughters, Lily and Layla, but found I could either drive or work on a speech for my girls, but not both. So, I just drove and let my subconscious wander and it wasn't long before it took me back to that innocent day less than a month ago.

It's so stupid really. As a family we had been so careful to self-isolate as a group; it felt like Swiss Family Robinson, but with Wi-Fi. A drive-by birthday party for a seven-year-old is what started the death knell for mother. A boy named Asher, a friend of Lily's, stood in the driveway as, one by one, friends (and their obliging parents) stopped and sang Happy Birthday, hooked a gift bag onto a six foot metal pole usually used for skimming a pool, and then waited for the little boy to yell out "Thank you!" showing off all the open spaces in his mouth where teeth had fallen out as he grinned like an idiot.

The thought of giving Lily a list of rules never occurred to anyone. Her ten-year-old sister held only a tentative grasp on the word 'pandemic.' To Layla it meant the bully she'd acquired at the beginning of the year was now null and void, she could go to class in questionable states of dress at the dining room table, she was no longer the weird kid who ate hummus and sprouts sandwiches alone in the cafeteria, and, most importantly to her, she got to sleep in for an extra hour.

Lily, however, was quite different. Every teacher's report we'd gotten on her included the phrase "social butterfly" or some variation of "very verbal." In every group picture from school, Lily grabbed the focus by placing herself dead center, usually with half the students looking at her rather than the camera. Since birth she had always been everybody’s friend and greeted everyone with a hug. I always imagine her studying Layla and seeing how heavy and dour she was and deciding to be the complete opposite.

So, there we were on a warm day in May, I drove, my wife, Joy, sat up front with me, and my mother sat between Layla and Lily in the back seat. I don't know why I put the car in park that day as we sang and put our bag on the pole. Remembering the 'clunk' of the doors unlocking sometimes wakes me up at night. I can vividly remember the bright green bow falling off the bag and how fast Lily had been at getting out of her booster seat and out of the car. Before my wife or I could comprehend what was happening, she had picked up the bow off the asphalt, playfully stuck it to Asher's forehead, and hugged him. No mask, no gloves, no ridiculous two-foot wide piece of plexiglass like at the grocery store, just two children doing what you want children to do, being caring, thoughtful, kind, unreserved, and picking up their litter.

I wouldn't say our family has any real germaphobes, but we did exercise a bit of caution as the tallies of deaths and infections continued their upward trajectory on the news. Joy and I had surrendered to the idea of life with COVID rather than life after COVID. My wife still went to the grocery store with the girls in tow. My mother made them each twenty masks with different patterns, each girl getting their name embroidered in one of the corners, so instead of telling them they 'had' to wear a mask we just had to say, "Go pick out a special mask to go with your outfit." Of course, they weren't wearing masks that day, as we weren't supposed to be near anyone.

When Lily got back into the car and buckled herself into her booster seat, a noticeable silence that accompanied her. Joy broke the hush. "Here Lily, put some hand sanitizer on." She then covered Lily's little hands with ten pumps of hand gel from a Costco-sized container.

I looked back at Lily's glistening dripping hands and whispered in my wife's ear, "Unless you're going to pump it down her nose and throat, the damage is done."

She turned back around in her seat, put a single pump of hand gel on her own hands and took a deep breath as she nervously rubbed it in. "Yeah, you're right. I mean, what are the odds?" She shrugged her shoulders and gave me an unconvincing smile.

The next day Joy sent an email to Asher's mother to ask, with the utmost of political correctness, if their family might be harboring a deadly contagion. The reply came back quick assuring us that we had nothing to worry about and asking if we might be harboring a deadly contagion. "Remember when these emails were about kids biting and organizing bake sales," I asked her after reading the reply.

The day after that I caught my wife typing in 'how many days for covid symptoms after possible infection.' Before she could press 'enter' I answered her, "Two to fourteen days." She pressed 'enter' anyway and then let out a sigh with her head resting in her hands. "Told ya so."

"It might have updated since you looked." Her tense reply made me get up and massage her shoulders.

"It'll be okay. None of us are sick. Mom's been fine since she moved in after her hip surgery. Worst case, we get sick and we get over it." I tried my best to fill the statement with confidence, but the tiny bit of doubt I let slip by was all she heard. I looked across the foyer and saw Lily in my mother's room, sitting in her lap having a story read to her, and hoped I was right.

Two more days went by and then Joy woke up with flu-like symptoms, achy, fever, a slight cough, but nothing too alarming. The next day Layla woke with similar symptoms, but not as extreme. We tried to go through a drive-up testing site, but once my wife saw the line, she gave the order to turn back. "It's like Schrödinger’s cat, let’s just hope we only have to open two boxes," she said. They each had symptoms for three days and then they cleared. My wife attributed their miraculous recovery to the vegan diet she had put the family on the previous year. I gave more credit to luck.

Day twelve I woke to the sound of a duck on fire quacking from downstairs, at least that's what it sounded like to me. I found my mother in her chair coughing and felt her hot clammy head. "Get dressed Mom, we're going to the hospital." She didn't answer, just shook her head, and shuffled over to her closet. A few hours later she became a patient in the special COVID ward of our local hospital.

A few days later I got a call from Vanessa, just starting the night shift, telling me they had transferred my mother to the ICU and asking if she had a living will. While having a living will makes you feel prepared for death, when somebody outside your family asks to see it, it's the most ominous feeling ever.

Two lights away from the entrance to our neighborhood, in the small hours of the morning with a few of my mother's effects in a hospital bag on the floorboard, I pulled the car over into a 7-Eleven parking lot and vomited all over a Japanese Boxwood. It wasn't a virus causing me to hurl, but a thought, a window into the future. Someday Lily will look back on this, maybe she'll come across one of those masks with my mother's embroidery on it, maybe she'll just remember waking up to the horrible news, but at some point she might make the connection to the bow on Asher's head and her grandmother dying.