#MAG DUMP HIM RUBY

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Adam: Age is just a number.

Jaune: *Pulling out his scroll* So is Nine-One-One

Ruby: *Pulling out a gun* So is .45!

[queenbirbs]

reblogging my old CoP theory posts to tack on my thoughts on CoP2 below

(This is as of chapter nine, where Trystan and the detective visit Juli’s room)

I’m working off the assumption that Juliana and Nadja’s killer are the same person(s). I know Trystan makes several comments about deaths being linked to each of their siblings, but I don’t think the mystery would be as delicious if the women’s deaths weren’t related

in Scooby Doo and a lot of American crime drama, the first person they interview / speak with about the crime is often the murderer (i.e. Bones, Psych, Lucifer, etc), mostly because their latter eps are 45 minutes long and they have to dangle the killer in front of us in at least the first 15 minutes because you can’t always introduce them in the last 15.

going off that, Seb or Lydea could both be considered first since we meet Lydea in NYC and then Seb on the steps (ignoring the possibility that it’s Marguerite, which I would enjoy, but I don’t see PB pulling that)

The only thread I can weave between Juliana and Nadja’s killer being Lydea is that she would be the right age for being Juli’s secret Thorne lover and the surprise Trystan and Olivia (my detective) showed at the appearance of her bedroom. While traditional (which tracks with Lydea’s personality), It was flowery and romantic and thus very offbrand for her.

Other than that, I don’t see any motive for killing Nadja over the Heir bill. Lydea is a legit heir, so unless it’s her wanting to get rid of someone for disrupting the status quo. And Ruby mentioned Nadja’s wounds were messy, and I just think the Captain of the Royal Guard would know the proper way to use a garrote. She also has her dagger with her later at dinner, so minus another suspect point.

Also, it got all confusing with the info dump (and I only played through each chapter once), but I think she did have an alibi for Nadja’s death since she was busy setting up Astrid’s latest scandal.

She could have snuck Nadja in, since she’s the captain, but I also think that any of the Thorne siblings could sneak someone into the palace without Lydea finding out (sorry, big sis).

Suspect level: 🔪🔪

Seb is clearly the red-herring. He’s the person 22 minutes in to this theoretical “episode” that looks guilty but it’s going to be revealed isn’t. He has strong connections to both women and he clearly hates Trystan. If he or his connections were revealed later in the book, then I’d give his theory more credence, but for it to be him would fall very flat. No one wants a whodunit murder story where the very obvious suspect is the “who.”

He is at the right age to be Juli’s past lover, though, and he’s apparently bad at throwing knives, so he stays on the board.

Suspect level: 🔪🔪

Patryk, Emika, and Kaspar are all about the same threat level for me, which is hardly any. For one, they’re all too young to have been Juli’s secret lover (if she was a teenager ((16-19)) when she was writing her smutty letters, I can’t see her addressing them to someone 6-8 years younger ya know).

I think they’re all classic examples of rich people treating the world as their playground, especially since they’re so low on the succession line that they don’t have any responsibilities to the crown. They get to fuck around and be artsy and misunderstood and film tiktok pranks and form pretentious cults. Patryk was introduced later in the book (similar to Tony in book one), but with his age and his ability to only hit the record button, he’s not really a threat.

The twins would kill for each other, sure, but they have no motive and, though Mags talked them up, the only thing we saw was them playing Perez Hilton on twitter. ~Ooh how scary~

All of this takes them all three off the board for me.

Suspect level: 0.5 🔪

That leaves Astrid and Vasili as my top two suspects.

I think it’s very telling that in the throne room scene after Nadja’s death that most of the siblings are paired up (Vasili and Mags looking at security cams, Lydea and Seb practicing dagger throws, etc) but Astrid is on her own (though she’s busy texting her ex or whatever Gregor was). By chapter nine, we don’t see her bonding with any of the others and she’s noticeably upset when they start dinner without her, but the queen doesn’t seem to care.

The line about the Nightingale’s song being a sound of loneliness points me to Astrid. We haven’t gotten a dossier yet on her, but I think she’s old enough to have been Juli’s lover (though her letter being in the stack they find in Juli’s bedroom loses her a point IMO.)

The only points against her are I think she had an alibi for Nadja’s death (when she was at the theater cheating on her bf). She is third in line for the throne, so even if the Heir act fell, she would have to get rid of Lydea as well.

Her connections to the mob might be useful to her, too. And Olivia Nevrakis did say she was a master manipulator.

Suspect level: 🔪🔪🔪🔪

We know that Vasili is used to covering for Trystan, is the right age to have been Juli’s lover, and is a cunning strategist. Though it would be odd that he would want the woman dead who would help him becoming king if the Heir Act passed, maybe there’s a reason for it. Maybe this secret love child (which I’ll put my hat into the ring that it might be Nadja herself, whether she’s aware or not ((because the theory that it’s Juliana is a little too medieval European for me)).) would be ahead of him in line. So he took her out of the picture so someone else would pick up the Heir Act.

Olivia did say that he did not have motive to kill Nadja, but he’s one of the last four siblings (him, Seb, Astrid, and Patryk) we haven’t gotten a dossier on yet.

His alibi for Nadja’s murder is that he was with Mags, but he does say he left a few minutes ahead of her.

Suspect level: 🔪🔪🔪🔪

And I know Eveline isn’t a Thorne sibling, but she’s still up on my sus board. I’ll give her one 🔪 simply because I think it’s weird she lives at the palace. Girl get your man to buy you a cute little penthouse in the city.

Also want to tack on that there is the possibility that two people murdered Nadja together. One more experienced garroted and did the killing, while the other stabbed her PM in an act of passion/anger. Sure, it could be the work of one person (maybe they were angry her death was over too quickly, so they stabbed her again?) but it’s very odd that one murder weapon was left at the scene — even if Kaspar did steal it later — and one was wiped clean and dropped in relatively plain sight.

Could it have been both Vasili and Astrid? She said she lost her dagger, but that could have been a lie. Or a certain someone could have stolen it.

okay I have no real basis for these accusations and I’m just spit balling here but I really, really want

trystan’s sister marguerite to be involved in the cult stuff and/or Juliana’s death

the only instance of her being sus i can pinpoint is her being shocked that they’re using a black light in his apartment to find out the number, and the emphasis on how she came over to the states to keep an eye on trystan

(also every outfit she’s given us has been ugly so I think she could be fucking with us, but that’s neither here nor there)

and when devona says that she likes us more than the other two…

or maybe I’m getting huge [redacted] vibes from the royal masquerade but…. I dunno….

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Chapter 1

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (maybe mature later)

tags:  Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

(The way overdue long-form version of the Foster Sib AU I wrote for @szajnie for Secret Santa 2020.)

music: Asynchronous With You by burokkurubeats & my playlist

He wasn't the first child.

Somehow he had expected to be.

A girl his age, age six, and her older cousin had already been living here for a year now.

They had family, they were just… deemed unfit.

Maybe they'll take them back, when they get their act together. He doesn't know. He only knows he doesn't have the luxury of hope that they do.

Nobody was coming back to get him.

And he had nowhere to go back to.

The foster lady with the ruby red eyes showed him his bedroom.

At first, Naruto thought Hinata and Neji were close, so much so that no one could ever be closer.

Then he thought it was their tactic to keep others out, self-preservation in blood.

Hinata was nice enough, but she never strayed far from Neji.

That was because he never let her.

She wasn't just fiercely loyal to him. She was scared of him.

He tried to get Neji in trouble. Kurenai-obachan needed to know. But Hinata stopped him. She told him not to split them apart. That she didn't mind Neji bossing her around. She would never be okay if she didn't know where her cousin was.

So he tried. But it was hard. He still picked fights with Neji.

That didn't make Hinata happier, either.

He still thinks it's Neji's fault when she finally breaks down, telling them both off before running to her room.

He runs after her, but she won't let him in.

He goes to his room and talks to her through his wall. He has to press himself flat against it, straining to hear any sound.

Could she hear him, too?

"I'll leave Neji alone, okay?" It's a bitter promise, because it makes him feel like he's surrendered when he did nothing wrong. But part of him also feels tired of this pattern day in and day out. He'd rather spend his time better.

The silence stretched passed the point of comfort, and he pictured tomorrow, a tomorrow where Hinata may hate him. Enough to shun him in his own home. And would he really do what he's always done to others to her? Would he really go that far for attention?

His unconscious concerns spilled out, running through his fingers before he could stuff the words back in and swallow them. "Hinata… can I bug you instead?" He flinches and freezes, and he waits.

It's faint, but he heard her.

"Sure," she said.

His shoulders lowered as he slouched down the wall, the tension leaking from his body and he smiled.

Their early years would be shaped by a secret language shared between the two of them from that moment on, where a pinch on the arm and a retaliatory swat was a polite exchange in the morning. Where a "missing" item from their bedrooms was an excuse to search the house together, and where a stolen item was an invitation to enter each other's bedrooms. Hinata really liked to show him her new collection of pressed flowers, and he really liked to show her his latest Gachapon figurine. Whenever that happened, it was usually one of those new things that went "missing" shortly after.

It wasn't that Kurenai-obasan didn't spoil him as much as them, he could have new things all the time, too. But she hadn't been planning on taking him, she hadn't been prepared for him. If he wanted more things, Hinata would have to have less.

And the time he could spend with her was more than enough for him.

____________________________

Halfway through their grade school years their secret games waned. Being in the same grade helped to keep them in touch throughout the day, but at lunch time she was Neji's, and after school she was Neji's. That's just how it was.

But they were maturing. Their experiences were expanding. They had so much to talk about.

But how could they? It had to be at bedtime. And because it had to be bedtime, they had to be quiet.

He got the idea to drill a hole into their bedroom wall so that way they could easily whisper and not get caught.

That was one of his first thrills: vandalism.

"I think you mean 'home improvement'," Hinata giggled.

He had to process that.

He never realized until then that he still hadn't considered this his home.

Thanks to Kurenai-obasan, he had food in his belly and a roof over his head. He had a bed, some video games, and a safe route to school.

Thanks to Neji, he had a model of masculinity. Not a role model, mind you, but a model nonetheless. Some things about Neji were cool, even admirable. And other things he would never do in his life. They were both abandoned, confused and alone, sure. But it was always annoying how Neji couldn't help but look back. Naruto always had to look forward.

Maybe the way they both did things was equally imperfect.

He smiled to himself, as this is where he had to thank Hinata, for she kept them both grounded and present. Because that's how she lives her life, like each day is a gift not to be squandered.

Who cares about being hurt yesterday? Who cares about what hasn't happened yet?

Right now, at this moment, he was home.

This was his home.

____________________________

Girls at school always cupped their ears when they were eavesdropping. They cup their mouths when they're telling secrets or bad-mouthing others.

Hinata cups her ear around the hole in their wall when he's telling her stories. And she cups her mouth when she's telling him hers.

Her ears are sensitive, so he tries to watch his volume. He forgets himself when he gets excitable.

Her breath tickles and teases a memory from his brain, one that fills him with both sadness and relief.

When he tries to sleep, he searches for the root of this feeling.

The next day on television, there's a mother murmuring her baby to sleep.

He adopts that image as his own forgotten memory.

And the following night, Hinata's soothing whispers confirm that he had a mother once, and she used to sing him to sleep.

____________________________

Hinata's a wimp.

He loves the girl, but at school she is a gosh damn trouble magnet.

He jumps in front of her bullies, fists blazing, and he loses.

A lot.

But he gets to pick fights again. He gets to be cool from time to time. And when he gets better, he becomes the best. He gets a reputation!

By the time they reach fifth grade, he doesn't even have to raise a fist.

A well-aimed death glare is enough.

When Neji's graduation forces the two cousins apart for the first time in their lives, the older Hyuuga undergoes a personality shift.

He expresses legitimate concern for Hinata.

Maybe it's been there all along.

They're both standing on the empty landing just outside of their elementary's gymnasium where the remainder of the proceedings were taking place. Neji's stare, heavy with expectations and ultimatum, bore down on his little shoulders.

"You're the only one I can ask."

"Yeah, don't worry. I got this!" Naruto flashed his patent overconfident grin, and this time not a hint of condescension passed across Neji's face.

His heart thumped wildly when he and Neji returned to the gymnasium, with Neji returning to his position amongst the other students in the center of the room. Family members lined up against the walls in foldable metal chairs, a spattering of pride and loss playing out across their faces; Their children were growing up.

When Naruto took his seat, he stole a glance at Hinata on the other side of Kurenai-obasan. Her gentle profile seemed to unlock something inside of him. Waves upon waves of warmth filled his body, pulling him in deeper into a languid pool of contentment.

He would be her protector from now on.

He would be her brother.

____________________________

He never noticed how their paths lead each other further and further apart.

Their daily routines had remained the same.

Aside from a few exciting developments.

Like Kurenai reconnecting with a childhood friend. The man was a Marine and a chainsmoker, but he seemed cool.

Or how Naruto happened to find a collection of discarded skin mags behind the pool storage room at school. They now safely occupied the space beneath his bed.

There was also the neighborhood shrimp squad of grade-schoolers who loved to call him 'Boss' whenever he came over to play.

Or that time he was hanging out with Sasuke, and unusually the stoic lad had insulted a group of delinquents before he did at the local arcade.

Sasuke may have taken out four guys by the time Naruto took out one, but he still got the win.

But way, way before all of that something had really surprised him: Hinata becoming Deputy Class Rep to their own Haruno Sakura.

She was volunteered for the position based on her equally outstanding grades. Or, at least that's what they had believed.

Over time, it became apparent that they had volunteered Hinata to be Sakura's foil. Hinata was considerate and much more approachable. If the students wanted something, they went straight to Hinata first.

But then her unchanged nature became more detectable.

Like he's said before, Hinata's a wimp.

She crumbles at the slightest disapproval.

She implodes when she's convinced she could do better. When she thinks she's failing.

So halfway through their first year, she started to get abused. Girls and boys alike tried to strongarm her into making their lives 'better'. Making her fetch their lunches and dumping cleaning duty on her every day, then throwing her words back at her when she tried to complain. They'd say, 'But it's what you signed up for', and 'Isn't this your job? Don't you care about your classmates?'.

Somehow Sakura never noticed. He tried to tell her, but she didn't take him seriously. He tried to tell the teachers, but they acted like he had no evidence.

Liars! They just didn't want to get involved! What good are teachers if they don't help their students?!

Some weeks later, the following exams were posted outside the classroom.

Sakura was number two, just below Ino. They were always competing for the top, always unevenly dethroning the other.

Hinata was number three. Always suspiciously number three. And he was dead last.

Hinata could rise to the top, but she never tries.

He always tries, but he can never seem to rise.

He realized then that he hasn't been doing enough as her brother.

Compared to her, he has no future, no potential. It wouldn't be a waste if he took on her burdens.

He can take abuse, because during those first six years at a state-run orphanage, abuse was all he knew.

He realized what he had to do. Resiliency was one of his best traits, after all.

The following day, he took Hinata's place as the class slave. He fetched their lunches, got them drinks whenever they asked. The only thing they never asked him to do was their homework. Because… yeah.

Nobody knew they lived together.

If they did, well, he might've been forced to copy Hinata's assignments all the same.

He never noticed how their paths lead them apart, how their daily routines boxed them into two different social spheres never to overlap.

He was still her brother. Her protector.

But by high school, he'd also become the embodiment of trouble itself.

And he couldn't let that stuff disrupt her life.

____________________________

Naruto’s sprawled belly-down on the sofa playing on his Vita handheld when Kurenai-obasan calls out to him as she’s emerging from the laundry room.

“Naruto, I’ve stared at this hamper for three weeks,” She drops the hamper at her feet with a weighty thump for emphasis. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“I just forgot.” He surreptitiously powers off his game and abandons his handheld on the sofa as he ambles off the couch.

He’s dramatic when he slouches his shoulders and drags his feet, head lolling backwards in anguish. He hauls the hamper back inside the laundry room. He doesn’t look when he opens the washing machine and dumps his clothes into the drum. But the pile is sticking up. He tries to smash it all down, but he can’t. It’s already full.

“Crap.” He scoops out his month-old laundry in four armfuls and disposes them at his feet. He reaches in to grab the damp garments sticking to the sides of the drum, then begins to throw them into the dryer. At least that’s empty.

He doesn’t notice the butter yellow hoodie with white polka dots on the kangaroo pocket. Or the frilly linen top that needs to be dried on the line. Or the no-show socks with rabbits on them.

Once the drum was cleared out, he hurled his fermented clothes into the washer and started up both machines.

He went back to his game for several hours. Kurenai had to remind him to dry his clothes as she delivered the dryer’s contents to Hinata’s room. This was because Hinata was at cram school.

As he moved his items to the dryer, he recalled how Neji had done cram school too before moving onto a prestigious high school deep in the city center.

Naruto never knew whether to be jealous or not. School work was utterly useless and he didn’t envy the workload of overachievers, but maybe that was only because he couldn’t handle it. Maybe if he were smarter, he’d appreciate it better. Or maybe he’d figure out more ingenious ways to skip it all.

He played his game in the laundry room, waiting for the final ding to go off. He used the same dirty hamper to gather up his clean clothes and dragged it inside his room, where he promptly dumped it all out on his bed. Fresh laundry was intoxicating and he didn’t fight the urge to belly flop into the softener-drenched warmth.

He deeply inhaled as he sank into the heat. His cheek felt particularly nice against this satin material.

His left eye opened a peek. Vanilla and lavender stripes met his eye, with a rose lace and ribbon trim along the waistband.

He shot upright, his face no longer hot from the laundry, but hot with horrified embarrassment. He stared at the garment like it might come to life, jump on him and eat his face. It hadn’t so far.

‘It should be fine to pick them up, right?’ He thought with his frozen hand stretched out.

Why was he acting weird about this? They used to mix their laundry up all the time when they were younger. It’s actually how Hinata acquired a love of hoodies in the first place, because she loved to wear the beige one Obasan got him. She can pull off softer colors, but he can’t, so it was easily hers from that moment on.

He plucked up her panties by their corners and held it away, like it were an envelope full of Ricin, and he gazed at it mindlessly. Somehow they were exactly what he expected Hinata to wear, they were girly and cute.

Pale skin flashed before his eyes, a taboo image of Hinata in these panties, lifting her pleated uniform skirt up had startled him and he dropped the undergarments with a yelp.

Did he really just imagine her that way?

Naruto tried to smack the stupid from his mind until his cheeks burned with physical pain, then with everything he could muster, he snatched up the pair and ran for her bedroom, adding it unceremoniously to her hamper of clean clothes.

He pretended to be asleep by the time she got home.

He ignored the sweet voice that slid through the hole in the wall until she gave up and stopped calling him.

There was simply no way he could hold a conversation with her after that experience.

And to think he had to rely on his skin mags to purge him of his sin.

____________________________

Weightlifting was doing wonders for him.

For starters, it was taking his mind off of his libido.

For another, his physique was changing. He was starting to sprout up, too. Hinata’s former bullies were starting to learn some new feelings, like reluctance and fear. They eventually moved onto the freshman to enslave, leaving him alone to finally live his final year of middle school the way he always wanted.

The more he did weights, the more girls started to look his way, not just at Sasuke-teme.

Life was looking good!

Is what he thought when he was hanging out on the roof with Sasuke and two Ojou-gyaru types. One girl was straddling Sasuke while Naruto spooned the other girl from behind.

A dire thought hit him when he realized only six months remained until graduation. A choice he had been overlooking was rapping its knuckles against his temple, and he could hardly shoo it away.

“Hey.” Naruto turned his head towards Sasuke.

“Hn?”

“Where are you going for High School?”

Sasuke turned his head up towards the sky. He was pensively silent. Then he shrugged. “I’m going to stay here.”

“So you’re going to Konoha Normal High?”

“Just like everyone else.” Sasuke said.

‘Everyone else’ didn’t include Hinata, and he was supposed to stick close to her.

How suspicious would it be if he chose to follow her to her high school?

What if he couldn’t? What if she was following the same path as Neji?

Neji would be there until her senior year. Was his responsibility to the both of them over already?

Naruto would later get a text from Obasan that she would be spending the night with Asuma.

K-Obasan: There’s curry udon in the fridge.

He narrowed his eyes at the text.

Just because you add noodles to leftover curry doesn’t make it a Naruto-approved dinner!

“Udon’s not even the same thing!”

His steps slowed in the school corridor. It was enough for his rooftop date to catch up with him.

“Your face looks weird when you’re glum.” She giggled as she poked his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, I just realized I’m about to go home and no one’s going to be waiting for me.”

“Oh?” She circled her arms around his own and leaned in close. “Good for us, huh?”

His eyes widened with realization. A goofy grin stretched across his face, the corners curling lasciviously.

‘Yeah,’ he thought, ‘I’m owed this.’

____________________________

Author Note: I'm forgoing the one-shot because I still don't have that kind of discipline. ;D I'll definitely try to finish this short story to the end. I had received some good title suggestions for this story, but I ended up going with another song name because I can't seem to do anything else. ¯\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯

I'm still going to try to adhere to the canon of the original fic to the best of my ability. I would totally declare this new canon, honestly, but then it'd be a Secret Dating fic with smut and it would never line up with what I already wrote. 😓

Anyways, I hope you liked this so far!

[ernmark]

hiya!! happy new year! if you’re taking prompts, could I get a role reversal of sorts for jupeter with juno topping/taking the lead on things? have a great day!!!

I’ve had this fic half-finished and sitting in my drafts folder for a long time, because I didn’t have the headspace or the energy to finish it. 

I appreciate your patience.

---

Peter smooths the lines in his suit and lifts a martini glass in one gloved hand, flashing a smile that he doesn’t mean.

At the “family meeting”, he had leaped at the opportunity to join Vespa on a heist. She was one of his childhood heroes, after all– how many evenings did he spend with one of Mag’s practice knives in hand, pretending to be the legendary assassin? So of course he was eager to show her that he is a worthy ally.

Instead he is here: in this awful, seedy establishment beside a man with far too much ego and far too little good taste, while Vespa is in another building entirely.

He tells himself that it isn’t entirely a waste of his abilities. He’s already slipped the cypher key out of Augustus Aritza’s pocket without him noticing, after all, and there is value in keeping him distracted so that his office can remain empty. Being a part of a team sometimes requires taking on the least glamorous of roles in a heist. 

It still rankles. 

But he is a master, even if he’s being treated like a novice, and he will demonstrate to Vespa and Buddy and all of them that he is capable of doing any job they put before him, even if that means giggling at every banal attempt at wit that drips out of Aritza’s mouth. 

He even manages to keep in character when Juno Steel steps through the front door.

What is he thinking, coming here? He’s supposed to be back on the Carte Blanche, making the evening’s dinner. Is he really so desperate for action that he’ll put the job at risk? At the very least, he could have had the courtesy to call ahead, but the hidden comms in Peter’s ear cuff has been utterly silent.

…As a matter of fact, he hasn’t heard so much as a wry comment over the comms in at least an hour. It hadn’t bothered him until this moment– after all, he’s used to working alone.

He swallows his apprehension and the last of his martini. He’s decided to trust Juno. He won’t go back on that now.

Juno appears at his elbow– his left elbow, to be precise. He’s taken care to keep Peter in his periphery and leave Aritza on his blind side. 

“You look like you could use a refill,” Juno says, rakishly lifting the glass out of Peter’s hand without letting their fingers touch.

Across the table, Aritza stiffens. “Do you mind?” 

“Nope.” Juno doesn’t even spare him a glance. His gaze remains fixed on Peter, but it isn’t stationary. His eye sweeps down to Peter’s heels and back up again, settling on Peter’s face. “What do you say, gorgeous? What are you having?”

His stare is needle-sharp, and Peter is pinned in place, his breath caught in his throat. Juno’s confidence is always a sight to behold, but it is another thing entirely to have the intensity of that confidence turned on him. 

“Black and gold,” Peter manages to say. Their ill-fated heist in Jupiter’s orbit was a few weeks ago, but he still can’t quite rid himself of the memory of Juno in that gown. 

Juno signals the bartender. “Black and gold for the gentleman, Rangian green for me.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change, but his pulse quickens. Vespa sent Juno? 

The person behind the bar blinks. “I’ve never heard of that last one.”

“How about a Green Ruby, then? Served hot.” He flashes a smile that leaves Peter stunned. “What can I say? It’s my favorite color.” 

“Nobody cares,” Aritza snaps. “Get lost.”

“Yeah, wasn’t talking to you. What do you say, barkeep?”

The bartender glances nervously at Aritza and back. “I… don’t know that one, either.”

Juno snorts. “Seriously? What kinda place is this?”

Aritza leans in with a tightlipped smile. “Maybe you’ll prefer the menu at another establishment.” 

“Great idea.” Juno claps him on the back too hard to be friendly, then leans in close to Peter. “How about you and I get out of this dump and find a place that serves real drinks? I know a guy that makes a mean Jovian tea.”

“Well,” Peter says with a flutter in his voice that isn’t entirely artificial. “With an offer like that, how can I refuse?” 

He takes Juno’s hand, pointedly ignoring Aritza’s muttered “Unbelievable!”. While Juno escorts him to the door, Peter’s gaze sweeps every reflective surface in front of him. Behind them, Aritza sputters furiously at anyone who will listen, and then jumps to his feet and starts after them.

“He’s coming,” Peter whispers under his breath as Juno pulls open the door. “Shall we run?”

The door opens into an alley with only one point of easy exit-- oh, there are several more, to be sure, but none that can effectively hide two bodies within three seconds. And perhaps worst, their getaway vehicle is nowhere in sight.

“Big guy’s circling the block,” Juno mutters. “There’s eyes on him.” And now there is an eye on Peter, dark and sincere as only Juno can be. He has a plan, even if he doesn’t have time to explain it in detail.

Peter gives the smallest nod. I’ll follow your lead, love.

And then he’s flat against the alley wall, so close that the air is crushed from Peter’s lungs and into Juno’s waiting mouth. A rough hand keeps him close even as it cushions Peter’s skull against the unforgiving brick. He only manages a startled gasp before the door opens behind him, and then Aritza steps through. 

Peter sees the moment unfold from two angles simultaneously, viewed with interest by two separate roles. 

The thief in him recognizes the need for escape. Aritza is a fool, but he’s at least partially aware that his power makes him a target. If he catches them fleeing at a run, he’ll know he’s been had, and he’ll sound the alarm. If Vespa hasn’t yet made her escape, that might prove deadly-- though whether to the assassin or whoever finds her is as yet undecided. Not that it matters to Juno.

Aritza might still react violently, of course-- but that’s why Juno left the door on his good side, and why he’s got his free hand on his blaster, conveniently blocked from view by Peter’s leg.

But that’s only the thief in him. The other part-- the role, or the romantic-- is happy to feel the heat of the charging blaster so near his thigh. It’s a dangerous place to put a dangerous toy, but he trusts his detective not to hurt him. And if the thief in him feels that Aritza needs some more convincing about this display, well, the other is happy to fumble at Juno’s belt. 

He moans-- loud enough to be heard from the door, but not so loud as to drown out Aritza’s disgusted grunt and the swing of unoiled hinges. 

Juno keeps the act going for a few moments more, kissing him like he’s forgotten how to breathe, and Peter is blissfully, helplessly pinned beneath him--

And then all too quickly the Ruby 7′s familiar engine joins the sounds of the alley, and Juno pulls away. 

“Looks like our ride’s here,” he rasps, but he doesn’t look at their getaway car.

“We’ll finish this later,” Peter whispers to him. “I believe you owe me a drink.”

[weatherman667]

Nuckelavee’s (second) introduction in No Safe Haven has several continuity errors.

CRWBY seems to have completely forgotten how Ren fights.  He’s a warrior based on precision.  As Piandao said, “You cannot take back a stroke of the brush, just like you can’t take back a stroke of the blade.”  As established VERY early on, Ren’s fighting style is that of a fighting monk.  He is the weapon.  His weapons, StormFlower, simply fill in a few blank spots in his fighting style.  It makes zero sense to make them fully automatic, which definitely seems to be done by rule of cool, but, yeah, should have gone with Dante and make every shot an aimed shot.

His momentous strikes against the disabled Nuckelavee are cool and a conclusion to his own personal growth, but make no sense unless you actually slow time down.  Standard Anime / Samurai / Wuxia slowmo precision, momentous strikes.

Seriously, a slowmo would have make it work 200% better.  It’s not like RWBY hasn’t done this before.

(caution: hurt)

They only created one of the most beautifully / horrifyingly crafted slowmo cuts of cinematic history.

Nora landing on a scythe mid-spin to launch her is just plain silly, considering it was established early on that she can launch herself more easily.  Homing attacks from her grenade laucher that have no impact... like... they completely forgot what the characters were capable of.

Luckily for Jaune they didn’t KNOW what he was capable of, and so let him discover it on it’s own.

Alright, conclusions for the weapons:

Ruby:  Uses extremely large charges of fire dust channeled into a cohesive beam.  Basically a Melta, except with more impact than melting.  Honestly, give her pink dust instead, (3/4 fire + 1/4 refined wind, so, pale red dust?), for maximum impact.  One of the only weapons that has to be reloaded because of it’s high usage.  While we’re at it, don’t have her just keep dumping her magazines.  With something that large and powerful you need precision, which they keep showing her use, until she does a full mag dump.  If they were proper anti-material bullets, it would probably be 5 in the magazine, but with dust it could be a single feed double stack, giving her lets say 10.  They also need to give her consistent recoil, meaning if she isn’t bracing properly and using her aura to dampen it, it WILL launch her.  When using alternate ammunition, it uses a 1/2 / 1/2 fire / wind combo for propulsion.  Because it’s design is to hit things with dust REALLY hard, all of the dust gets used instantly, for highly concentrated effects.  This is fitting for the adorable scythe wielder, as that bloody thing is designed to one-shot moderate-sized Grimm.  Ruby makes all of the ammunition herself, as any place with a blacksmithy has the necessary tools.  This probably means she carries like a hundred rounds at a time, at least in her backpack.

Weiss:  Despite the sleek appearance, her rapier doesn’t actually use dust, it just holds it.  The rapier instead acts like a focus for her Semblance, which is what actually uses the dust.  Her requiring a catalyst / focus for her Semblance isn’t unique, but does lead to wonderful choices when dealing with it.

Blake:  Refined wind dust.  Not really meant to do any real damage, just harry people so she can hide with her Semblance.  Actually wind + gravity dust, so when it strikes, it gives a much bigger impulse, delaying them even more.

Yang:  Flame dust with basically rocket nozzles.  She can adjust the amount fired, and use it for a quick burn, which would give more force, or a slow burn to basically bathe her enemies in burning fire dust.  Again, the high usage requires reloading, which like Nero in DMC4 apparently only ever has to be reloaded once.  She has speed clips ready, but can also just do a single feed, like a shotgun, allowing her to top herself up.  Each shot doesn’t necessarily take all of the ammunition, as she can attenuate it.  She only really unloads when she gets angry.  She could have separate reservoirs of wind dust to give it more oomph when needed, as she has plenty of space inside the mechanism.

Jaune:  Dustless.

Pyrrha:  Probably a fire / refined wind charge, which we can probably guess is the standard normie firearm type, though a higher than normal charge.  Bascially soldiers and bots probably use something with equivalent power to a 5.56mm NATO, or even a 5.7mm, whereas Pyrrha probably uses something much more akin to a 7.62mm NATO.

Nora:  Fire / wind, designed for a slow burn until it strikes something, at which point is switches to an extremely high burn.  She can also use an extremely high burn when she wants oomph.  Honestly, hammer = high burn, grenade launcher = slow burn, to keep it consistent.  And no just dumping all of her cannisters at the same time, as it would basically be an FAE/MOAB.  Actually, okay, yes, she can do it if she REALLY feels the need for it.  Until now, a significant portion of Ren and Nora’s income has come to dust.

Ren:  Wind dust.  The green in his weapons are wind dust forged into the metal for extra oomph.  This means that despite the paltry size, they offer a lot of power, at least at lower ranges.  It would make much more sense for him to use it as semi-automatic only.

Note:  For Firen Lhain, I’m making assumption that they are using dustarms and not firearms.  When you have literal magic rocks with 1000 uses, they probably never had to rely on physical ammunition, like we do.

P.S.  Just had an idea for a weapon upgrade for Nora.  Thanks to Jaune, of course.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[graffiti]

Day 12: Unrequited Love #twdgdrabblechallenge

Note: I know I’m writing about Mitch a lot but like... I can’t stop. 

AO3

---

“Dude, think you could get off your ass and help me for once?”

Mitch glances up from his comic, thumb marking his place, saying, “Nope.”

That gets him a middle finger. 

“This is your room, too, asshole.”

“My side is clean.”

“Bullshit,” Justin scoffs, eyeing the absolute mess occupying the floor, bed, and desk on Mitch’s side. “I’m not picking up your shit.”

“Then don’t,” Mitch rolls his eyes, returning to finish the page of his comic only for it to be ripped from his grip. “Hey!”

Justin tosses the comic on to the desk where it proceeds to slide off and onto the floor all while he begins scooping up a pile of Mitch’s dirty laundry. 

He then dumps that load right on top of him.

“Seriously?!” Mitch balls up a pair of jeans and chucks it as hard as he can at Justin’s head, smacking him in the side of his face. 

“I’m not fucking around, Mitch! Pick up your shit!”

Something’s off about him today. Usually, he’s just as messy as Mitch is, leaving dirty laundry on the floor, piling books up on his desk, leaving trinkets and weapons anywhere they land. Now he’s zigzagging around the room like a maniac trying to tidy up the place. 

Shit, maybe Ruby cornered him and threatened to break in and clean their room herself again. She’s a brave one to even consider that again, given that she stumbled across some dirty stuff last time. 

Justin better hide his nasty ass porn better this time because Mitch isn’t taking the fall for that one again. One lecture from a flustered Ruby would’ve been whatever, but now he’s got Marlon and some of the other guys asking for his “secret stash” and it’s fucking annoying. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Mitch watches Justin pull a box out from under his bed and dump the contents out. Yep, there’s the porn and some other books and boxes that he begins to sort through. 

“You want any of this?” Justin asks. “If not, I’m gonna toss it.”

“You’re gonna toss your mags?” 

“Well, not those,” Justin replies, snatching up the disgusting material and tucking them back in the box, “but these I will.” 

He hands him some books; two that are apart of some sci-fi series that looks pretty killer, one all about different insects, a bible, and a book on birds. 

“The bug one’s pretty cool,” Justin says. “There’s a whole chapter on spiders that can catch birds out of trees and eat them.”

Mitch wasn’t ever one for bugs. They’re gross and terrifying.

Birds, however, he does like. 

He keeps the two sci-fi novels and the bird book, tossing the bible and bug book back over. He pretends to flip through the bird book and admire the colored photos occupying the page, but his focus is mostly on the determination in Justin’s eyes. 

The more he stares, the more he realizes how clean he looks, which is weird. Ever since the walkers came and shit really went downhill, they were forced to bathe in the cold river and after a while, most of them said fuck it to being squeaky clean all the time. 

There is not a single speck of dirt on his sun-kissed face and the dark mess of curls covering his forehead and neck are shiny and fresh. He’s wearing new clothes, too, ones that he doesn’t recognize. 

It’s a good look for him. 

“So, why the sudden freakout?” Mitch tries to ask casually. “Ruby get a hold of you?”

Justing laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, not Ruby. Hey, uh-” he perks up, an almost timid look crossing over his features. “I got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Okay,” Justin grins. “If you could make out with any of the girls here, who would you do?”

Mitch stiffens, nearly dropping the bird book.

“Uh, what?” 

“Any of the girls!” Justin says. “You can choose one to kiss and they have to kiss you back.”

“None of them,” he shrugs, answering honestly. 

“Dude, it’s the end of the fucking world. Now’s not the time to be picky.”

It’s not that he’s picky- well, maybe he is. Thinking about every girl that lives here at Ericson, not a single one jumps out to him as one he wants to kiss. 

“I’d rather fuck a walker.”

Laughter erupts from Justin, and through his chortle, he asks, “Mitch, dude, are you fucking serious? You’d rather fuck an actual dead, decaying walker than any of the girls?”

Yes, because he doesn’t want to kiss any of the girls. At all. 

“No, shithead, it’s gross.”

“Oh, but fucking a walker wouldn’t be?”

“No, that’d be gross, too.”

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Justin pries. “What about Brody? Or Erin, or Violet, or uh, Minnie?”

“Nope.”

“Dude.”

Shit, maybe he’s being too honest. 

That- fuck.

“Uhm, y’know what? Fine,” Mitch adds quickly, causing Justin to smirk. “Any girl?”

“Any girl.” 

The first name that comes to him is Minnie, but he can’t say that, so he says the second. 

“Brody.” 

Justin visibly relaxes, relieved by Mitch's answer. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she’s hot.”

God fucking- he couldn’t have sounded any less enthusiastic. 

“Why are you even asking, anyway?” Mitch frowns, scratching nervously at his neck until a patch of redness blooms on the skin. 

Justin smiles excitedly, hopping up on the bed with him, far closer than Mitch would’ve liked. 

“What are you doing tonight?”

The question is simple but it still makes Mitch’s stomach churn in a bizarre way. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

“You don’t have any plans?”

Mitch’s pulse quickens. 

“Am I supposed to?” 

“No, I just- are you gonna be here?”

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I go to sleep?”

Justin considers this, stuttering out, “Right, no- yeah, right. That was a stupid question.” 

What the fuck is he saying? What is he asking? Why does he look so nervous? Why are Mitch’s palms beginning to sweat? 

“Do you think maybe you could... Uhm-”

Do you think I could maybe what?

“-go sleep somewhere else tonight?”

...What?

“What? Why?” 

“I need the room to myself tonight.”

“Why?” Mitch asks again. 

“I’m having company, okay? So, can you go sleep in Willy’s room tonight? I know he said he wanted to try being alone at night with his own room, which has been great for us not having to deal with him so much, but-”

“Wait, wait-” Mitch interrupts, having not really listened to Justin’s ramblings. “Who the fuck are you bringing here?”

A smile spreads across his full lips and in a sing-song voice, he answers, “Minnie.” 

Minnie? What the fuck- why the fuck is Minnie spending the night in their room? There’s no way in hell she agreed to something like that!

“Why?”

“I’m finally going for it, asshole! God, do I need to explain everything to you?” 

He’s going for it? A lump of panicked dread falls from his throat and soars down into his stomach. 

“I asked her to come here tonight to help me with a ‘secret project,’ right? So, when she gets here, the room’s gonna be super clean and I’m gonna light some candles and then- and then I’m gonna ask her to teach me to dance. Romantic, right?”

Mitch’s mouth goes dry.

"And we’ll be dancing and laughing and shit, and then I’ll go in for the kill and kiss her.”

“Kiss her?”

“Yeah, idiot, listen.” 

“You’re just gonna kiss her? Don’t you have to, like, ask?”

Justin snorts. “Dude, asking isn’t romantic.”

It’s not? 

Well, fuck, not that he knows anything about romance. It’s the one subject Mitch actively refuses to explore. 

Justin continues, “Then, after I give her the kiss of her life, I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend.”

He... he’s really thought this whole thing out. 

He’s had this infatuation with Minnie for weeks now, so he’s had plenty of time to think about. Justin makes it his number one priority to spend as much time with Minnie as he can, always shoving Sophie or Violet out of the way to hog all her attention, or ditching Mitch to do whatever she wanted him to, or constantly making fun of Louis so that Minnie would stop hanging around him. 

He actually went as far as to carve a bunch of nasty shit into Louis’ piano.

Yeah, because that’s the way to get someone’s attention and affection: be an asshole. Mitch may not know shit about this stuff, but somehow, he knows that’s not the right approach.

And Louis was so devastated about that, too...

"And for me to do all that,” Justin points at him, “you need to be gone tonight.” 

No.

No, no, no. 

No. 

It’s out before Mitch can even think, “Dumbass, she doesn’t even like you.” 

Fuck. 

Justin’s taken back by the harshness but returns it what a deep glare. 

“Fuck you, she does like me! She laughs at my jokes and she’s always touching my arm!”

That’s because Minnie’s a touchy person. She touches everyone. Mitch once had to snap at her for constantly trying to touch and fix his hair. 

“Uh-” Mitch panics. “Yeah, but everyone knows that she likes Louis.” 

It’s such a huge ass lie, holy shit, but it’s the first one to come across his mind. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Justin spits. “She does not!”

“Yes, she does, why do you think they’re always hanging out in the music room? Hell, they’re probably making out in there right now.” 

“Louis is the worst, though!”

“Apparently not since Minnie’s sucking face with him instead of you.” 

“Why are you being such an asshole?” Justin snaps, standing from the bed to glare down at him. “They aren’t together! We’d know if they were because Louis is an obnoxious idiot who can’t keep anything to himself.” 

“Y’know what? You’re right!” Mitch stands too, voice growing louder with every word, “we would know if they were together because Minnie’s also an attention whore and wouldn’t miss an opportunity-”

Justin shoves him, Mitch’s back hitting the top bunk of the bed, his head bouncing off the bar. Justin’s fists remain tangled in the collar, and he’s close, right up in Mitch’s face. 

"What’s your problem?” 

His problem? 

Fuck, he... he doesn’t even know! 

All he can focus on is how Justin’s nose is almost touching his. 

Mitch pushes him back hard enough for him to trip over a book and crash against the ground. 

“Ow! Fuck!” 

Mitch still, staring down at the wincing boy with wide eyes where he’s met with a glare. 

They don’t say anything, so Mitch bends down to grab the bird book and his bag. Without a word, Mitch quickly shoves some clothes into it and leaves, clutching the book against his chest, the pounding of his heart hot, rapid and deafening.  

Some of the others are walking around, and when he passes by the music room, he can hear Minnie singing and Louis’ playing. Someone- Violet, he thinks- makes a comment about the song, but Mitch doesn’t pay much attention. He considers joining them and warning Minnie about what she’s walking into tonight, but doesn’t. 

Let Justin make a fucking fool of himself. 

Fuck him, anyway. 

He’s...

Mitch turns down the hall right outside the music room and drops his bag. 

With his trusty pocket knife in hand, Mitch begins to carve.

JUSTIN FUCKED A WALKER

 He spends the rest of the afternoon making sure that no matter what hallway you’re in, this information is known. 

[wellhellotragic]

CSJJ Day 23: A Rather Common Name (1/2)

Whoaaaaa. What’s that? I made words? Trust me, I know, and I’m just as shocked as you all are. It’s been months since I’ve written anything (my poor little book included) but I’m back and hopefully words will continue to come.

I have to send out a huge shout out to everyone at @csjanuaryjoy. Thanks to the mods for hosting this year and bringing everyone together. It’s been so much fun hearing about all of the fics that everyone’s been working on. Now that this is done I’m about to dive into all of them with my greedy little reader eyes. Also a huge shout out to all of the fam in the discord channel. It’s been such a privilege and so much fun to get to know you guys. You all make me laugh daily with the complete randomness. And thank you all for letting me bounce ideas off of you! Also, much love to the wonderful @profdanglaisstuff for chopping this up with her red marker of death (and surprisingly there’s no sarcasm there at all). You’re fantastic for helping me out! <-- See that? No past perfect! 😂

With that super long thank you out of the way, this is a two parter. The back half is coming in a few days on the 28th.

In case AO3 is more your jam

Summary:

She hated him. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but he was a dick when they met. So why did she tell him about the apartment for rent in her building? And why did she let him in? Let him climb her walls? Why did she let herself trust him when every man she'd ever been with had betrayed her? Why did she think he'd be different?

And why, despite it all, did she still love him?

The hustle and bustle of Christmas had come and gone in the Nolans’ Boston apartment. The tree had been taken down the day after Santa had delivered his presents, yet the lights remained, strewn up in the living room to keep the festive spirit alive. Mary Margaret was insistent that the lights could be recycled into New Year’s Eve decorations. The only concession given to David’s objections was the removal of the brightly colored bulbs wrapped around the railing of their balcony. Apparently red and green didn’t exactly scream New Year’s.

Instead, they were swapped out for some of the trendier hanging lights that she’d seen in all of the design magazines. The same magazines that usually covered Mary Margaret’s coffee table, something to be left up year round. But on that night, they’d only be admired from the living room. When the invitations went out, Mary Margaret had clearly not expected the massive nor'easter coming through. The news said that five inches had already been dumped on the city with no end in sight.

Mary Margaret had always been the perennial mother hen of the group, throwing all of the holiday parties. Christmas and Thanksgiving had come later, after they’d graduated and decided to become adults, but the New Year’s eve tradition had started back in college, right around the same time that David had appeared. Emma hadn’t missed the connection between her best friend throwing her first ever party, and the fact that said party was for a holiday that traditionally included kissing at midnight.

Not coincidental at all.

At the time, Emma had rolled her eyes, never understanding the build up. Always wondering why everyone bought into the idea that starting the year kissing a drunk loser was supposed to set some amazing standard for the next 365 days. Of course, that had been before Killian. He’d blown into her life like a torrential whirlwind, systematically setting her world on fire even as she felt like she was drowning in the sea.

Emma didn’t date. It was a promise she’d made to herself after Walsh. Twice burned, but never again.

Never let people in and you won’t get hurt.

But Killian, he’d snuck his way in while she wasn’t looking, and for the first time in years, she was ready to take a risk. Ready to open the door to her heart. But that’s the problem with opening doors in the storm. Sometimes the wind is so strong that you get blown away in the process.

There’s been an accident.

With one phone call, her entire world was rocked. The storm around her raged as she stood there at the door, rooted to her spot in sheer agonizing fear. Crippling paralyzing fear. The open shutters an invitation for her desolation. The ground shook, knocking her from where she stood. Windows shattered, shards of glass strewn on the floor around her. One piece aside, her heart stabbed clean through.

New Year’s Eve: 2 Years Earlier

“Emma, it’s only twenty minutes to midnight. Surely you’ve picked out someone by now?”

There was a sickeningly sweet tone to Mary Margaret’s voice as she said it. Some odd notion that happily ever after was achievable to anyone if you only had hope. Normally Emma would let it roll off her shoulders like water off a duck’s back, but having just collected her pay for bringing in another cheating runaway embezzler, Emma’s faith in love and hope was at an all time low. There was absolutely nothing appealing about kissing a stranger, not that she was necessarily opposed to doing other things with strangers on any other night. Something about New Year’s Eve was clichéd though, raising expectations.

Emma scanned the room. Most of the guests included the usual suspects. Graham, David’s partner at the precinct, who by all accounts was actually a stand up guy, but he was already off limits. He’d been in love with Ruby for years, pining away for her in secret. A secret kept from Ruby alone. He wasn’t Ruby’s type though, and she’d never once considered him in that way, never noticed the way his eyes stayed glued to her from across the room. Never noticed the way he always made sure to have a full glass in front of her before she could finish her beverage. How he was always bringing extra tapenade hummus to their get togethers knowing that it was her favorite. Instead she’d always picked party boys. The love ‘em and leave ‘em type.

Talking animatedly next to Graham was David, who was ‘out’ for obvious reasons. Beside them though was a man Emma had never seen before. Brooding heavily. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he chugged back the rest of the drink in his cup. But before she could get a better look at him, her attention was dragged back to Mary Margaret.

“If you haven't picked anyone out yet, then I have this guy in mind for you. He teaches with me at the school and he’s so sweet. His name is Jefferson and-”

“Whoa, are you talking about that guy that always wears those crazy different hats around town?”

Emma hadn’t even noticed Ruby approaching.

“Yes, and I think he’d be wonderful for Emma.”

“Uh, Mags. That guy is certifiably crazy. You know that right?”

“Ruby, he’s not crazy, and that’s not even a politically correct word to use anymore. Yes, he may be a bit eccentric, but all of the kids love him.”

“Listen to me. Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m not kissing anyone tonight.” Emma watched as Mary Margaret tried to interrupt, but stopped her before she could argue. “The only man that’s going to be touching my lips tonight is Mr. Jose Cuervo.”

With that, Emma grabbed the half empty bottle off the kitchen counter and made her way through the crowd, sneaking out onto the empty balcony. The streets below them were nearly empty. A rare sight on a Saturday night in Boston. She stood there, watching the lights change from emerald to amber, then scarlet. Over and over, no cars ever crossing the intersection. The calm should have relaxed her, but instead it did the opposite. Only further reminding her of how alone she was. Of how everyone else in the city had somewhere to be. Someone to be with. Of how Neal was out in the world somewhere probably conning some other stupid naive girl. Of how Walsh was probably in bed with the redhead he’d been screwing for the last three months of their relationship.

She’d never have that, and while it had been her choice to swear off men for anything more than a one night stand, on nights like that, she couldn’t help but long for the comfort of a man’s embrace. For something more that just ships passing in the night.

“Not that your delectable arse doesn’t make a stunning sight, love, but it’s hardly the view I’d come out here for.”

Emma jumped, nearly throwing the bottle of tequila over the rails as she attempted to clutch her chest.

“Jesus Christ! Lurk much?”

He let out a throaty laugh, lifting his head just enough to catch the glint from Mary Margaret’s bulb decorations. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the blueness of his eyes.

“It’s hardly lurking when I was here first.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was here, minding my own business, taking in the scenery. Then you appeared. Not lurking. Just easily overlooked apparently.”

“And you waited to announce yourself, because?”

“Well if the lady Nolan is anything like her excitable husband I assumed you needed a few minutes of respite to collect yourself.”

She nodded, unable to argue his point. Both of her friends were well meaning but overeager and overbearing when they thought they were right.

“Fair point.”

He laughed again, a little less humor tinting it that time as his hand gestured to the empty space next to him on the bench. Neither spoke for a few minutes, instead basking in the last remaining moments of silence before the midnight countdown began. Eventually her curiosity broke through though.

“Okay. I have to ask. How do you know David?”

Their friendship group had always been a fairly small tight knit crew, and she was certain that she’d have remembered the man next to her. Even in her foul mood she’d be an idiot not to acknowledge how handsome he was with that light smattering of scruff covering the lower half of his face. The perfect mixture of rugged and kempt. The way his bicep felt quite firm as he shifted and brushed his arm against hers.

“Ah. The inquisition portion of the evening.” He took a long tug from a flask he’d hidden on the ground next to his right foot.

He had walls. Something Emma understood intimately. The immediate need to deflect or defend with sarcastic remarks and witty banter. Anything to distract from people from getting too close.

“Not an inquisition. Just call it curiosity. And by the way,” she started as she took another swipe from her own bottle. “Who talks like that?”

Perhaps she’d had enough of the tequila.

“Like what exactly?”

She leveled him with her best glare.

“Fair point,” he mimicked her words from earlier. “The name is Killian, and to say that I know Nolan would be a bit of an overstatement. I just transferred over to his precinct earlier this week from across town and when he discovered that my plans for New Year’s involved take out and pay per view he insisted I come here. Apparently rubbing elbows with complete strangers with hardly any personality is a more appropriate use of my time. And as far as the ‘talking’ goes, you can blame that on the British educational system. For some reason they really tend to stress the whole education bit unlike the schools here in America.”

He stood as the party blowers began to scream, hardly bothering to excuse himself as he left Emma sitting alone, jaw hanging open at the verbal onslaught he’d just bestowed upon her.

She could hear the cheers inside signaling that another year had passed in glorious fashion.

Disaster.

Not that she should have expected anything less. The year before last she’d lost her mind and kissed Walsh. Another one of Mary Margaret’s infamous set up attempts. A year later she’d kissed him again, on another midnight . Unfortunately she’d found him kissing another woman just two days later and that was that, having set an impossibly high standard for that year to live up to.

Seven weeks into that new year Emma had come back from a night of friendly neighborhood research (stalking) to find that her beloved bug had been stolen. Only further emphasising her back luck, David had pointed out to her that she couldn’t file a report on it without implicating herself in a crime. Apparently cops tended to judge a person when they reported the car they stole as stolen, even if that person had gotten her shit together in the intervening years.

And then there had been the bank incident. Her beloved coffee shop had been closed for remodeling and she’d been forced to grab something at one of those trendy chain shops that charged a month’s rent for a single cup of cocoa. Usually that would have been hyperbole, except that particular cup had cost her everything in her checking account. The shop adamantly denied it, but one of the employees had clearly skimmed her card and gone on quite the shopping spree, draining away the money she’d been saving since college.

And if life hadn’t yet kicked her hard enough, she’d been evicted from her apartment, although evicted hadn’t been exactly the wording used on the letter explaining that her building was going co-op. But with her account fraud still under investigation and her money not yet returned, she couldn’t afford the down payment. The bank had all but laughed outright at her when she’d asked them for a loan.

The year hadn’t all been bad though. It had led to her living only one floor up from Mary Margaret and David. It was nice coming home from a midnight booking to find her fridge full of homemade meals in perfectly sized tupperware. Her newer car was a slightly less conspicuous than the bright yellow bug and she’d increased the number of skips she’d tracked down because of it. And ya, the new apartment was a little more expensive in rent that her old one had been, but it was a fresh start. Something she desperately needed. The rest of the year had actually gone pretty smoothly too, until she met Killian Jones.

He’d gotten under her skin somehow, something she thought about him considerably over the next few days. It wasn’t so much what he’d said, as much as the tone in which he’d sneered it out. She’d been called prickly in the past, but she’d never had someone act so callously towards her before, even in her foster care days. She thought about it as she went to bed in a foul mood. She thought about it as Mary Margaret tried pushing Jefferson on her again at lunch the next weekend. She even thought about it a dinner a few nights later, which is probably why she didn’t see the bread plate hurtling at her face.

She’d thought she had him, some lowlife who had hit his girlfriend one too many times. She should have expected it, been prepared for it. She had been, but then the dark haired guy at the bar beside her had said something in an accent and she let her mind wander for the briefest of seconds, just long enough for the scumball to toss a plate right in her face before trying to run out of the restaurant. He’d tripped on the stairs by the entrance though, smashing his face and breaking his nose. If Emma Swan had ever believed in karma, it was in that moment.

Luckily for both of their sakes, they’d only been a few blocks over from David’s station house. If she’d had to spend any more time with the man, his nose likely wouldn’t have been the only thing broken that night.

Granted, it was after nine on a Tuesday night, meaning David was long gone, but Emma was friendly enough with the night guys that none of them would have given her a second glance if she had roughed him up just a bit more than usual.

With the ring of a door bell, Emma found herself shoving the guy through a side door where Mullins was waiting for her just inside the bullpen after buzzing her in. He’d been the cop that had trained David during his rookie days. Mullins had taken a bullet during a robbery during David’s third year with the force, and even though he’d fully recovered physically he’d never returned to the field, too worried about leaving his wife and kids alone.

“Well, well, what do we have -” The concern was evident in his eyes as he took her in. “Jesus Christ, Emma.”

She felt herself holding back a snicker as Mullins pulled a little more forcefully than usual on the guy’s shoulder. After gruffly ordering her skip to sit down and changing out her cuffs for official department ones, Mullins returned his attention to Emma.

“You’re gonna have a pretty good shiner there, ya know that kid?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, but if Nolan finds out I let you leave here without checking you over he’ll have my hide.”

She chuckled to herself. David’s protective streak was his defining character trait.

“You know you outrank him, right?”

“Doesn’t matter. Jones!” His bellow took Emma off guard, startling her slightly. “Grab a first aid kit and get Emma here cleaned up a bit.”

Mullins pointed at a desk near the back of the bullpen and told her to go wait. Most of the desks had a few pictures littering the area. They were a mashup of people as the day officers and night officers shared spaces, but the one in the back had only one photo on it. Belle looked stunning in her white dress holding onto Lance’s arm in what was possibly the tightest tux she’d ever seen on a man. They were so happy together. But there was nothing else. Nothing in the way of personal effects from anyone else.

“Alright, love, I’ve got-” His words seemed to fall away when she turned around. The last person she’d expected or wanted to see was standing before her in a dark navy blue police uniform. In the artificial lighting she could see that there was a smattering of ginger in his beard. His inky black hair stuck up in places. But it was his eyes that she lingered on. They were possibly the bluest she’d ever seen.

“You.” Not her most eloquent of greetings, but she was still fuming over what he’d said to her on New Year’s.

“Aye, me.” His fingers fiddled with the latch on the first aid kit, but he made no move to open it.

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” she mumbled to herself

He at least had the presence of mind to look chagrined.

“Please, love. Take a seat and I’ll get you cleaned up and on your way.”

“Emma.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s Emma. Emma Swan. I’m not your love.”

He nodded and looked at the ground as he came to lean against the desk. His desk.

“My apologies. For calling you love, but mostly for the other night. You have every right to be cross with me. I’d had far more libations than food and I treated you poorly. I’d like to think I’m usually more of a gentleman than that.”

She studied him for a while, watching to see if his eyes shifted or if he fidgeted. Tells that she’d learned over the years to see if someone was lying. Little pieces of body language that could give away everything. He didn’t do anything to convince her that he was anything but sorry.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t but she felt the call of Ben and Jerry’s and a Netflix marathon pulling at her. As well as a much needed icepack. “I probably wasn’t in the most festive mood either so we’ll call it even.”

He had her sit on his desktop so she’d be at eye level with him. Killian - Killian Jones apparently - grabbed her chin and tilted her face to get a better look. Frowning, he lightly brushed her forehead with his fingers causing her to hiss in pain. She knew the plate had caught her pretty squarely in the face, but it hadn’t hurt until just then.

He apologized for causing her pain and set to work on cleaning her up, informing her that on top of the beginnings of a black eye there was a pretty large gash as well. She winced as he dabbed the wound with an alcohol swab. She also protested when he suggested she go to the emergency room for stitches. She’d had worse and just wanted to go home and forget the entire night.

Well, most of the night. As he set about to applying butterfly strips, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over his face, over the pale pink scar on his right cheek. The slight point of his ears. But mostly over how well his form filled out his uniform. Boston’s finest indeed . Shaking away the thought, she heard him apologize once more,thinking he’d hurt her again.

“Uh, no. I’m just tired.” Not a complete lie at least.

Her exit from the precinct was awkward at best. After Mullins returned with her paperwork so she could collect her money, she hadn’t been sure what to say. Or if she even needed to say anything. They’d only met at a party once for three minutes after all. After mentally debating it, she’d given him a very simple thank you, then humiliated herself by almost poking herself in the eye as she pointed to her face. Not the most graceful exit, but she’d at least managed to make it out of the building without falling over in her heels so she called it a win.

She’d barely made it through the front door of her building before Mary Margaret and David had come barreling out down the stairwell, coddling her like parents, insisting that she come back up to their apartment to eat something. Clearly Mullins had called them to check on her. By the time she made it back to her own apartment she was far too tired to do anything other than crawl into bed and pass out.

The rest of the week, however, was practically a staycation as she hibernated in her apartment, not wanting to see people’s pitying looks on the sidewalk as they misjudged the situation. The first day her head throbbed and her eye was nearly swollen shut. She slept that day away, not even wanting to get up to search for painkillers or to make an ice pack. The second day was slightly better. The swelling had gone down on her eye, replaced by a deep purple bruising. It was still too sore to cover with concealer so she stayed shut up in her apartment scarfing down the ice cream she’d been craving before.

Before she realized it, she’d watched an entire season of The Great British Bake Off, and completely lost track of the time. The sun had long since fallen below the skyline and her stomach was beginning to turn on her for having forgotten to feed it something more substantial than frozen milk all day. Just as she was getting up to check her fridge, she heard a knock at her door.

Curious, she checked the peephole, not expecting anyone. Her downstairs neighbors had a key, and while it was supposed to be for emergencies that had never stopped them from using it for everyday use too.

It was hard to tell through the dirty glass of the peephole, but it appeared to be a man carrying a large bag of food from what looked like the Chinese place around the corner. It was probably a mix-up with the delivery guy. August down the hall had an even more irregular sleep schedule than her and ordered food at all hours of the night.

There was another knock, reminding Emma that the man on the other side of the door was in fact an actual human being and that she should probably open the door and redirect him to August.

“Hey, I think you have the wrong apartment. Booth is three doors down on the right.”

She was already closing the door when she heard him.

“Emma Swan?”

“Ya.”

“Well, then this is for you.”

She tried to explain that she hadn’t ordered anything. That he either had the wrong apartment or that it was a prank. The food had already been paid for though and the tip taken care of. Cautiously she had accepted the bag, setting it on her coffee table as she eyed it, as if it were somehow booby trapped, like a peanut can that once opened launched snakes at its poor unsuspecting victim.

Once she’d felt thoroughly convinced that the bag was safe, she began pulling out enough containers of food to feed a small army. She wondered once more if it had been a mistake, if some poor family of four was starving somewhere in the building, but as she pulled out the last carton of spring rolls, she found a note. His handwriting was a bit more flowery than she’d expected, not that she’d actually thought on it until just then.

Swan,

Now we’re even.

-KJ

Simple and to the point, making Emma smile in spite of herself and her lingering hostility towards him. She had to give him credit. He’d nailed all of her favorites, making her wonder if he’d just guessed well or if he’d had a little insight into her food preferences. Although, she doubted that he’d bother asking David and they didn’t share any other acquaintances.

That night she ate to her heart’s content, almost too much. Putting away the remaining food, she returned to her bed and quickly fell asleep thanks to her overstuffed stomach. The next morning brought a bit of relief with it. Her black eye was finally in the icky green healing stage and the gash on her forehead looked much better than the first night.

Feeling as if she’d rested enough, she called her employer to claim her next case. It was a small time drug dealer. By all accounts, he seemed to be privileged kid rebelling against his parents. He’d dropped out of school his junior year of college and started selling weed out of his car. His latest arrest had been for trying to deal to a cop. His parents had foolishly bailed him out, yet again, and he’d missed his court date, yet again .

The only foreseeable issue was that the kid had nearly unlimited funds to hide with, though he hadn’t exactly been good at evading the law before. As Emma searched through his social media accounts, it quickly became apparent that what he had in money, he more than made up for in lack of brains. It only took her an hour of research to learn that he’d been staying with an old friend from prep school in the center of the city.

Not bothering to go through the effort of a honey trap, Emma dressed in comfortable leggings, a long sleeved sweater and red leather jacket. She did her best to conceal the remaining wounds on her face and set out, grabbing a few snacks for what she hoped would be a very short stakeout.

It hadn’t been. In fact it had taken fourteen hours of sitting in her four year old Mini Cooper.. She’d been ready to call it a night when he finally emerged from the brownstone wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He’d clearly watched one too many movies on standard criminal dress codes.

As usual, he hadn’t seen her coming. She got the jump on him just as she’d done countless times before, and in near record time she had him back down at David’s station ready for booking. She wasn’t really sure why she’d gone there, passing another police station along the way. One that she’d used plenty of times before.

Yet for some reason, she’d felt compelled, trying to reason that it was just because David’s station was closer to her own apartment. That it would be a shorter ride home after. It had absolutely nothing to do with the attractive man that had invaded her dreams the night before.

Of course, when he saw her bringing in her barely legal skip and had come over to say hello, she was as annoyed as she might have expected. In fact, he was in a much more jovial mood that night, and when one of the other cops made a comment about how they preferred her other ‘work’ outfits, he just smiled and mumbled something about how they weren’t wrong under his breath. Then she watched as his cheeks pinkened and his finger began to scratch at a spot just behind his ear.

She hadn’t known how to take it. She hadn’t known how to take him. Not after New Year’s and the Chinese food. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, moody and brooding one moment, blissfully charming the next. He perplexed her. Or at least that what she told herself as thoughts of him continued to invade her mind over the next three weeks. Unable to get a read on him.

The harshness of January gave way to February. Snow still lingered on the sidewalks, but no more had fallen. She’d delivered two more skips to the same department over that time, even though one of them she’d picked up clear on the other side of town. Killian’s mood had soured dramatically by the second drop off. So much so that he’d barely even spoken more than a disgruntled hello that final time. Barely acknowledged that she was there.

It shouldn’t have hurt her. It wasn’t like she really needed him to leer at her chest in her skintight minidress like the other cops usually did. Especially the married ones. She’d always felt a little cheap when it happened, but something about his dismissal of her felt worse. Like she was no one. A sensation she hadn’t experienced since she was eighteen, just after Neal. That’s when she’d found out that she’d been accepted to Boston University with a substantial financial aid package. Gone were the days of not being seen by her foster parents or social workers. She’d become someone, and yet at twenty seven, she may as well have been that young girl all over again as he groused about paperwork, waving her off in the process.

A few nights later Emma wore that same red dress to pick up her latest skip, promising herself a well deserved break after his delivery. Catching him was easy. A little batting of the eyes, a throaty laugh as she pressed her hand into his chest. He melted into the her, dropping his guard long enough for her to cuff him to the barstool. She didn’t bother taking him to David’s station that time, choosing to instead call someone out from the precinct around the corner. The skip really should have been smarter than to agree to meet her at a notorious cop bar.

Once again the dress had done its job, and though she felt a slight bit of gratification knowing that at least one guy in Boston still found her attractive, the garment was shed the moment she walked into her apartment. Unlike the skin tight material, the day lingered on, tight in her muscles, and she hoped that a hot shower would ease her body.

It wasn’t meant to be though, as a sharp set of knocks sounded out on her door. Knocks that she recognized. Calling out to wait a minute, Emma scrambled to get dressed, tugging on some leggings and a sweatshirt. She didn’t even bother to check herself over in the mirror before opening the door.

She’d met him about two months in from moving into her new apartment. There had been noises, loud ones. Breaking glass, thumping on the walls. It was enough that she could hear it from her closed apartment three doors down. She’d been worried that someone was in trouble. With her gun in tow, she’d crept down the hall, stopping to listen at the door. There had been muffled yells, a man’s voice cursing. The door had been unlocked, and while she’d known it to be a bad idea at the time, walking into a stranger’s apartment uninvented and armed, her concern outweighed her need for self preservation.

He was a writer. A self indulgent prick with a complex. A man trying to write the next great novel and failing at it. The yells had been him screaming at his computer, at his words for being unremarkable. Oddly enough, Emma hadn’t been as put off by him as she should have been, and somehow they became friends of sorts.

“Thought you might be up for a goodbye party.”

He didn’t wait for an invitation, pushing past her to unpack the food he’d brought with him.

“Goodbye? I didn’t know I was going anywhere.”

August laughed, standing only long enough to grab some beers from her fridge.

He was leaving. To some place in Thailand, or near Thailand. Something about needing to disconnect from technology and distractions. About needing to live a story worth telling. She gave him three months before he partied himself into a ditch, or whatever type of landforms they had in Phuket. They ate and drank and promised to stay in touch, both knowing it was a lie. He left that night for the last time and Emma felt just the slightest bit empty.

She’d lost her confidant. The one person she could tell things to that wouldn’t judge her thanks to his own litany of crap. The ‘break’ she’d promised herself was short lived. The hollow feeling eating away at her. She needed something to distract herself. It wasn’t hard to track her down. A fake account on Grindr, a quick meet up for a drink first.

The only problem had been that the restaurant was only a few blocks away from her apartment, meaning only a few blocks down from the last precinct she wanted to visit again. She thought about driving to another one, but the girl had been mouthy after Emma had cuffed her and she just wanted her gone. She could only pray that he was out patrolling for once.

She had never been particularly lucky. Mullins was out sick and the only free officer to take her skip was him . He looked like shit, a small satisfaction in her book. Dark circles under his eyes, mused hair, wrinkled uniform.

He was moody. Not exactly harsh with the skip, but not showing any real kindness either. Not that she’d expected him to. She’d only seen him a handful of times and he’d been cranky more often than cheerful. If she hadn’t needed him to sign off on the paperwork, she wouldn’t have even bothered to stay. But when he mumbled something about being too busy and her bringing in a skip being an inconvenience she’d had enough.

She tossed the paperwork at him, telling him to just sign the damn papers so she could be on her way. Telling him that she hadn’t exactly been expecting to spend her entire night at the station. That he was the inconvenience. She barely let him finish scrawling out his name on the last piece of paper before she ripped it out from under his pen, storming off towards the side door.

“Shit. Swan, wait.”

She turned around just long enough to give him her fiercest glare before turning and heading for the door again. His hand loosely grabbed her wrist as he chased after her.

“Please.”

She stopped, not quite facing him, but not shutting him out completely.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, not again, but I shouldn’t have taken my piss poor mood out of you. I’m sorry.”

There was a pleading in his tired eyes that she didn’t understand. Yet she felt helpless to hear him out anyway.

“No you don’t, and no, you shouldn’t have.”

His head dropped in resignation.

“Why have you been in such a horrible mood anyway?”

He told her the story. It wasn’t the whole story. She knew he was leaving something out, but it wasn’t her place to ask. It wasn’t her place to want to know. But he gave her enough. He’d been staying in a hotel since he changed precincts nearly two months ago, stuck on the night shift. Apartment hunting had been a nightmare. His schedule only left him a small window of opportunity to see listings in person, and the places were either death traps or rented out before he’d got a chance to even view them. Then some ‘lot of bloody children’ had moved into the the room next to him. They spent most mornings running around making noise and he’d been unable to get a decent night’s sleep.

She felt for him, something deep within her seeing something in him. A lost boy. He was all alone just trying to survive. He’d been thrown overboard and was too proud to ask for help or to let anyone know he was drowning. She hated herself for what she was about to do.

“I have a friend.”

“Okay?”

“I mean, I have a friend who’s moving out of his apartment. He’s subleasing it himself until his lease is up in a few months and then you could transfer over the lease to your name after, if you wanted to stay there that is.”

His eyes shifted, more alert but still guarded. But something lighter filtered through as he watched her. Hope.

“You’d do that for me?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not the dick here.” She flourished her hand between the two of them. “The only catch is that it’s in David’s building. I’m not sure if you’d want to see him at both work and your off time.”

His head tilted. “Thank you, but perhaps I shouldn’t then. If Dave chose not to tell me about the apartment, it probably means he doesn’t want me there.”

“He doesn’t know about it. The guy that lives there now is on a different floor and keeps odd hours. I’m not sure if he and David have actually ever even spoken to each other.”

She gave him August’s contact info, telling him that he was likely awake if he wanted to call about it on his break, leaving him with a warning.

“Don’t make me regret this, Jones.”

He moved in the next week, bringing only a few boxes. August had decided to leave most of his furniture, choosing instead to relinquish the creature comforts he’d become accustomed to. Believing that an artist was more creative when struggling. The furniture didn’t seem to match Killian’s personality, but he said it was fine.

He was still unpacking when two large pizzas arrived at her door. Already paid for just like the Chinese food. A thank you gift for getting him out of his hell hotel. He’d waved to her from his doorway, box in hand as she’d accepted the pizza, before ducking back inside. She’d thanked the delivery guy, adding on an extra tip. It was a lot of pizza. Too much really.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she grabbed a six pack of beer from her fridge door along with the pizza boxes before heading over to his place. The door had been left open from his constant trips back and forth between his car and the trash chute.

“Knock, knock. Welcoming party.”

He called back out, telling her to come in, laughing when she told him that someone had sent her an obscene amount of food. They talked a little that night. Superficial things. He was originally from London but had moved to the States for college. He had a brother, still serving in the Royal Navy. They usually only saw each other once a year around Christmas time. Emma was only doing bail bonds long enough to save up enough money for law school. It was strangely nice, despite her missing August.

It wasn’t the man that she missed as much as the bond she’d formed. She’d told him everything. Or at least almost everything. Now a near stranger sat in his place, and she felt alone all over again.

The strange thing though, was that he wasn’t a stranger. Not a complete one anyway. She knew him in a way. Knew that he’d been hurt. That he was just as alone as she was. Just as defensive. As broken as her. He was a kindred spirit.

They parted that night on better terms than ever before, leaving Emma to wonder just who Killian Jones was. What the missing part of his story was. She considered asking Mary Margaret the next day at lunch, but she wasn’t able to think of a natural segueway. One that wouldn’t make her look like a young schoolgirl with a crush.

The checks were on the table when she was finally and inadvertently given her chance. Ruby was the one to ask. She’d delivered some coffee and donuts to Graham and David who’d both been up early that morning working on a case. Killian had still been there, causing Emma to wonder why he’d been working so late. She’d even worried a little, but then Ruby asked about him, and all of Emma’s focus went to that.

To why Ruby was asking about him. To the way she toyed with the locket around her neck. The wolfish grin as she mentioned how good his ass looked in those pants. To the way Ruby asked if he was single.

Emma had to hold back a growl as her friend basically spoke of how she’d love to devour the man, and it frightened her. Frightened her that she was jealous over a man she barely knew, that she refused to let herself think of in that way. Jealous that Ruby could be so casual with men she saw on a daily basis. That she was so open with her sexuality. But mostly it frightened her that Ruby Lucas had never had a man turn her down.

The thought of Ruby writhing on the same sheets Emma had helped him tug over his mattress the night before made her sick for some reason. One she absolutely refused to think about . Instead she pushed it down, listening to Mary Margaret explain that she didn’t really know all that much about him. Just that he seemed nice enough the few times she’d met him. She didn’t even seem to realize that he’d moved into the building.

“Hey Mags, I have a great idea. Why don’t you invite him over to dinner Friday to properly introduce us. You know how you love setting people up.”

“He’s working.”

Two pairs of eyes snapped towards her. The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realized it. She wasn’t sure of he was really working or not, but it seemed likely enough. She’d seen him there on a Friday night before.

“I mean, I think he is. The last time I brought in a weekend skip he was there.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Ruby pouted. “Shit, is that the time? Crap, I have to run, but Mags, next time you see him, do you think you could talk me up?”

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. You’re the best!”

Mary Margaret barely spared Ruby a second glance as she ran out of the cafe, instead focusing her eyes on Emma. Speculation written all over her face.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh you know Ruby,” Emma tried for nonchalance. “She’s always been man hungry.”

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.” Her friend had clearly picked up some lie detecting tricks from David. “You were upset.”

“No I wasn’t. I was just trying to be helpful.” “If that’s true, then please explain to me why the heels of your palms have fingernail imprints in them?” Emma squirmed under her gaze, trying not to give an inch lest her friend take a mile.

“I just feel bad for Graham, you know.” Not a total lie. She was getting good at that. “He’s been in love with her for so long and I just thought it might be really awkward for him having to work with a guy that Ruby’s been with.”

“Good try. And yes, it would be if I thought Killian had any interest in her at all.”

“And what does that mean?”

Emma felt her heart surge with the tiniest bit of hope as Mary Margaret went on to explain that she’d already tried to introduce the two of them on New Year’s but Killian hadn’t been as amiable. So maybe amiable wasn’t the word Mary Margaret used, but it sounded like something Killian would say and for some reason that’s how Emma heard it. Her friend further explained that Killian had actually seemed really put out by the notion of a set up even after he’d seen Ruby’s chest nearly falling out of her dress as she danced around the apartment.

It wasn’t until later that day that Emma took offense. Her friend had tried to set Ruby up with Killian, while she’d tried setting up Emma with the mad hatter. She didn’t want Killian, really, she didn’t.

Yes, keep lying to yourself. That’s healthy.

But she’d still been offended that Mary Margaret had thought she’d be more compatible with a guy that talked in riddles and dressed up to go to the Boston tea house. It was a place only small children went to feel fancy in their dress up princess clothes. Not a place for a grown ass man to live out some weird fantasy. A part of her wondered if there wasn’t something slightly more sinister going on there.

She begged off from their planned dinner the next night. Something she did with them every Friday night, work permitting, but her ire with Mary Margaret had only grown and she didn’t want to see the woman, afraid she may say something regrettable. Unfortunately, it meant that her friend left nothing in her fridge to eat. She contemplated getting something delivered, but she didn’t want to be home if the Charmings from downstairs came up to check on her or to call her bluff about being busy.

The little pub around the corner was busier than she’d expected. Nearly every table was full and the bar had a crowd two deep. Emma turned around, set to leave when she saw him, sitting at a table in the corner all by himself.

“Is this seat taken?”

It was a cheesy line, and she hadn’t meant to sound so throaty as she said it, but she hoped that she come off more as joking than flirty. It didn’t matter though. He was too gone to really even notice her. She could have been wearing a shark onesie and he likely wouldn’t have been fazed. He shouldn’t even be served any more, yet when the waitress walked over with her tray, she had another glass of amber liquid ready for him.

“I’ll take that. Can he get some water?”

The waitress looked disappointed, but smiled and nodded, returning soon after with a large glass. Emma took a moment longer to order some food, asking for it in a to-go bag. As she waited on it to be ready, she tried to force Killian to drink as much of the water as possible.

The walk back to the apartment was a bit of a struggle. Killian was wobbly on his feet and she nearly dropped him trying to open the door to their building, but somehow she made it to the elevator without hurting him. It took a minute of digging around in his jacket pocket to find his own apartment keys.

The place was surprisingly immaculate. She’d never seen it in such a condition before. August had always been a bit sloppy. Emma set Killian down on the couch and pulled the food out of the to-go bag she’d been given, insisting that he eat it all to soak up the booze in his stomach. By the end of the meal, he was looking far more sober than when she’d found him at the pub.

His eyes still had a glaze over them though, a haunted look, and although she tried not to worry, she couldn’t help asking him what had caused him to get shit-faced. He was evasive, or tried to be, but Emma refused to let him bottle it up. She shouldn’t pry. Not when his inhibitions were so low. She knew that. She would be furious if the tables were turned, but when he said something about a ‘her’ Emma’s concern morphed into something else. A new feeling that left her stomach in angry knots.

It was the the same old story of heartbreak. Her name was Milah. They’d dated for two years and suddenly she’d just decided to end things. To walk away from everything they’d built, including the townhouse they’d purchased. Or almost purchased. Something about it being in escrow.

But that’s when the tale turned. Her husband had caught wind of her plans to purchase a new home with her lover and told her she needed to choose between his money or her man candy. Ya, the husband had been news to him too. A blatant reminder that no matter how long you’ve been with someone, you never really know them.

The money had won out.

So he’d packed up. Boxed up the few items that didn’t remind him of her, and asked for a transfer. She felt sick. It was such a vivid reminder of Neal and Walsh. Of how they’d both fooled her into thinking that they loved her, but when it came down to it, neither had. Both had chosen something else over her. Her heart stung for him.

She’d been in the society section of the newspaper that morning, promoting a new little boutique uptown. She’d looked happy, really happy, and it had sent Kilian over the edge of misery knowing that she didn’t even miss him. That their breakup was nothing to her.

“So, Emma Swan,” he slurred slightly. “You now know my deepest darkest secret. What’s yours?”

She didn’t tell him. A mixture between wouldn't and couldn’t. That secret was locked far too deep inside. She’d never told anyone. Not Mary Margaret or David. Not Ruby. Not even August who’d known more about her than anyone.

Instead, she lied, telling him about Neal. About how she’d given her virginity to a man a decade older than her. A man that had immersed her in a life of petty theft and crime. How he’d tried to pin something on her, but she’d found out before he could do anything and turned him over to the police. He’d fled before they could arrest him, and she’d been let off with a strong warning. It was the only time being a foster kid had worked in her favor. The judge had taken pity and given her community service in exchange for a dismissal of the charges the DA had tried to hit her with.

It wasn’t her deepest secret, but it was still a dark one that she didn’t enjoy discussing. Mary Margaret had just looked at her with pity when she’d told her. That had been the start of her obsession when fixing Emma up with the perfect guy. Ruby’s first question had been to ask if Neal was good in bed. Unfortunately, his age and experience had done little for him. Something Emma didn’t realize until later after she’d had a few more partners.

But Killian, he just thanked her, his head still lolling back resting against the edge of the couch.

Something shifted between them that night. It started slowly, but they didn’t just talk when they ran into each other for work anymore. They both went out of their way to hang out, binging shows on their days off. Getting meals together. Walking together to Mary Margaret’s Friends’ Friday dinners. And if Emma had made an extra effort to ensure that he sat next to her instead of Ruby, well that was nobody’s business.

When Emma sprained her ankle chasing a skip in the rain, it was Killian who wrapped and iced her ankle. His fingers that brushed against her skin creating sparks along the way. It was Killian who told her she didn’t have to go to the emergency room if she didn’t want to, even though all of her other friends were insisting she get it x-rayed. He somehow just knew that what she needed most was to stay in bed. He was also the one that brought her bear claws from Granny’s on his way home from work in the mornings. He stayed up long enough to make her coffee just the way she liked it and brought it to her before going to his own apartment to crash.

He had become her everything in that year since their meeting. Somehow a mashup of the relationships she shared with August and Mary Margaret. He was her doting friend that had also become her closest confidant. He was the one she went to when she saw Walsh in the jewelry store buying a ring. The one that told her she wasn’t as stupid as she felt. That the mistake of opening up her heart to someone wasn’t hers, but his for betraying her trust the way he had.

He went to her when he was struggling with work. With his new captain who was just a huge dick and how he was always getting crumbs in his stupid black beard. With a case where the evidence just didn’t add up. Even when he was pissed at Dave for interfering in his personal life. She was the first person to hear about is promotion to detective, and his subsequent change to the day shift.

They were everything to each other.

And that was the problem. She hadn’t realized it. Not at first. But over that year she’d come to rely on him like a crutch in a way. She craved his approval. Wanted to see him smile. To be the one that made him smile. She loved the way that his arm lingered on her shoulders protectively when they went out to the pub for Ruby’s birthday. The way his hand stroked up and down her arm, his thumb drawing circles across her clavicle. The way his fingers always tangled in the ends of her hair.

She wanted him. She wanted him in the way that love stories were written about. She wanted him to hold her as they fell asleep at night after a passionate night of lovemaking. She wanted him to wipe away her tears and then kiss her senseless until all of the bad thoughts were banished. She wanted him to tell her that he loved her. Emma wanted him to be her last New Year’s Kiss. She wanted everything with him.

She just didn’t know it.

Not until Mary Margaret pointed it out while they were taking down the old Christmas decorations. The holiday had passed by in steller fashion. Killian hadn’t been there, instead meeting his brother in New York. The Boston airport had been all but shut down and many of the flights had been rerouted due to weather. Killian had told her that he couldn’t stand the thought of Liam spending the holiday alone in a strange city, so he left early, trying to beat the storm as it raged across the north east coastline.

She’d been worried about him driving in such horrible weather, even offering to go with him. But he’d insisted that she stay, not wanting to ruin her holiday as well. She felt empty and alone, despite being surrounded with people. He’d called her when he’d gotten there the night before, as promised to let her know he was ok. Liam was already passed out in the bed next to him so he couldn’t talk for long, but he’d wished her a Merry Christmas Eve before he hung up.

The storm had only worsened overnight and the Jones brothers were trapped in the city, unable to get home until the snow had stopped falling and the streets had been cleared. So they spent the morning on Facetime celebrating the holiday the best way possible. Mary Margaret opened the presents he’d left for them and laughed at the NYPD Rookie newborn onesie he’d bought them. Mary Margaret still had a few months to go, but David had already decided that his son was going to wear it one his ride home from the hospital. He tried to get Emma to open the present he’d left for her as well, but she refused, telling him that she’d wait until he was back so they could exchange gifts together.

It took four days before Killian finally made it back to Boston. At one point she’d been certain that he was going to miss Mary Margaret’s now infamous New Year’s Eve party, and while it would have sucked for him to miss it, a part of her was secretly glad. Ruby was still insistent that Mary Margaret set the two of them up. That they should forget to take down some of the mistletoe. There was an exaggerated wink that followed and the idea of it had just left a heavy weight on her shoulders, a gnawing in her stomach that she couldn’t quite explain.

She pushed that thought out of her brain when he returned though. The feeling of his chest pressed against hers as they hugged in greeting was a balm to her soul. One she didn’t know that she needed, and that was enough for her to forget the dread she’d felt.

She couldn’t believe that he’d remembered based on a random story she’d told him months before. He’d given her a magic eight-ball. As a kid she’d been naive and fallen for the story her mother had told her when she’d handed her the box on her 6th birthday. That she’d thought it was an actual lie detector test and she’d carried it everywhere with her, thinking it gave her a superpower, until a bully in one of her group homes had grabbed it from her, tossing it onto the sidewalk from a second story window. Shattering the ball and the last bit of hope she’d had in the world. And while none of her friends had understood the significance of the gift Killian had bestowed upon her, she cherished it.

She’d bought him a captain’s hat, telling him that if a man as idiotic as Edward Teach could make captain, than so could he. He’d smiled and kissed her cheek telling her “Thank you for the gift, love.”

She wasn’t really sure when he’d started calling her love again, just that it didn’t bother her anymore. In fact, it usually left her with a flutter. Not that she ever dwelled on that.

But then Mary Margaret had pointed it out. The way she lit up when Killian was around. That he did the same. The casual affectionate touches that they shared. The fact that they had more inside jokes together than she had with the rest of the group combined. The way they spent all of their free time together.

They were dating and neither of them knew it. Or at least Emma hadn’t known it. She couldn’t say for sure. She’d even gone so far as to deny it, but then she’d been reminded of the elevator incident.

They had come back from watching a Boston Celtics game. A skip had offered her his family tickets for her to let him go. She’d taken the tickets and cuffed him anyway. Perhaps it wasn’t the most upstanding thing to do, but they’d go to waste otherwise. So they’d gone, had beer and popcorn. It had been fun. It had been long. The metro line had been jam packed and they all regretted not driving to the stadium. The arm she would have paid for parking almost would have been worth it.

By the time they made it back to their building, they’d all been exhausted, and the elevator ride seemed slower than usual. David and Mary Margaret had both been leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator, but Emma had leaned back into Killian, allowing him to hold her up. Maybe she’d been too tired to notice the way his hand had settled on her hips, his thumb brushing dangerously low under the waistline of her jeans. Then again, maybe she just hadn’t cared.

It had seemed so natural for him to touch her so intimately. Anyone else would have received an elbow to the ribs or a kick in the groin, but with Killian, it was just normal. Mary Margaret had disembarked on her floor, giving Emma an odd look on the way out as David told them good night. Emma had been too tired to care what the look had meant though. When the elevator had opened on their floor, they hadn't discussed it. They’d just instinctively gone to Emma’s apartment and plopped down on her couch to watch Netflix. They’d woken the next morning spooning each other and neither of them had thought it unusual.

So ya, they were dating, and honestly, Emma wasn’t sure what to make of it. Especially when she didn’t know if Killian felt the same way. If he had butterflies when she rubbed his shoulders after a long day. If he felt a rush of heat when he saw her in her in one of her honeytrap dresses.

She spent all of New Year’s Eve thinking about it. Debating if she should say anything or not, but he’d winked at her in the hallway as he was getting in from work, and that moment, had solidified her resolve. She was going to find him at midnight and kiss the ever-loving hell out of him. To start the year off right. Maybe she’d even take him back to her apartment after for something more than movie watching.

There was a new dress. One she’d been saving for a special occasion. Something more meaningful than a skip. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, her makeup removed and reapplied twice. She even managed to find matching heels. The weather had cleared up enough that they’d even be able to go out on the balcony again, where it had all begun. Everything was perfect. She’d also severely underestimated how long it would take her to get ready though, and by the time she got down to her friends’ apartment, there were less than fifteen minutes until midnight. With the apartment full of people it was hard to move around, and even harder to find the man she was looking for. With five minutes left, she finally spotted Graham, slipping out of the restroom. She stopped him, grabbing his wrist to ask him if he’d seen Killian.

There were tears forming in his eyes though. Something had happened. Something with Ruby, and as much as she wanted her grand dramatic gesture, she needed to comfort her friend more. She had no idea that soon she was the one that would need comforting.

He’d been looking for Ruby, thought he’d seen her head into the bathroom. She’d been in there a while so he knocked, trying to make sure she was alright. No one had answered, but he’d heard moaning noises. Thinking that she was in trouble, he’d slipped into the bathroom and caught an eyeful of dark hair fucking Ruby with his mouth. Emma had had enough. She loved Ruby dearly, and would never judge her for her choices, but Graham was hurting and it was time that Ruby took responsibility for her actions. She stood to make her way to the bathroom but he stopped her.

“Emma, you don’t want to do that.”

Like hell she didn’t.

“I mean it. You really don’t want to go in there.”

He was pleading, a fresh wave of tears staining his cheeks and Emma felt every muscle in her body seize up.

“And why don’t I want to go in there?” There was a quiver to her voice. She felt so small and weak and hated herself.

“Please.”

She knew. Before she knew, she knew . As she stepped to the door, hand in the air ready to knock, she heard a scream. One final yell of ecstasy fell from Ruby’s lips, and she knew.

“Jones! ”

[nobodyslaughing-blog]

TIMBER AGENTS: Adventures in the Overgrowth - aka my fake anime aka Discord RPG Setting Dump 2

Timber Agent was a long running 80s Light Novel series that was adapted for tv in 1996. It was famously what Akira Toriyama worked on in between Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z. Great designs didn’t save the show though and it was canceled after one season, before the main characters ever became the titular Timber Agents.

The show became a cult classic during a short run on Toonami where Steve Blum made his second famous role as Valiant Star. Even though the Toriyama designs weren’t close to the Light Novels description it stayed in the public mind enough to get a reboot in 2016 called Timber Agent: Adventures in the Overgrowth done by Studio Shaft.

After the first season sold gangbusters in both Japan and in the West a second and third season were announced. On top of that the original author is planning for six more chapters and “possibly more”. With nostalgia we might finally see Timber Agent fully animated as it rightly should be.

Obviously this didn’t exist…instead this is my “Shonen Battle Manga Setting” for Mutants and Masterminds. Here’s the setting.

One thousand years ago magic returned with a crash as the Old Gods fought massive beasts in their last battle. Cities flooded, earthquakes ate entire nations, and all electronics were changed. Some were merely broken beyond repair while a few became ingrained with magical power. The robotic armies of man were given free will and the mech suits used by human soldiers were cursed, each with a different curse that affected their users. In the end man retreated from the cities and started a small life.

One thousand years later, the time we play in, society has built itself back up. (Kingdoms will be posted later)

Magic started affecting humans in odd ways. Some were born with magical abilities, usually one single power or several small weak ones. Humans born with these powers are called Gems and their “purity”, aka the level of power they wielded, was measured. From weakest to strongest they are called Stones, Sapphires, Rubies, and Diamonds. The name was adopted due to anyone given the gift having gem eyes, each level named after the eyes that develop.

The Robots ended up having a massive war that lasted a hundred years. Half wanted to help humanity while the others wished to rule them. A few even wanted to eradicate them. In the end the good Robots won but they could not bring themselves to kill their brothers and instead put them to sleep, hoping that when they wake they will understand empathy. Most of the heroic Robots went into a sleep mode also, most for their own reasons. The few that kept awake helped humanity in small ways, keeping their creators alive when they would be dead. Humanity has all but forgotten making Robots and view them as rare powerful gods and revere them as such, though they tend to not enjoy being worshipped.

Mech suits are called Machine Armor and each has its own temperament connected to their curse. Some require bloodshed to run while others need long rituals for daily use. Some have odd weaknesses such as not working in shadows or not being able to harm wood.

Elves - Otherwordly abominations whose beauty is so great a single glance makes you mad.

Talpi/Moles - Small wrinkly men with big claws and bigger whisker mustaches. They use their claws to dig massive underground cities. They eat rocks and metals and live in structured clans waiting for the day that Old Wodd, their creator, comes back. They gain sexual traits for childbirth and lose them whenthey give birth. Child Talpi are small worms and generally number in the hundreds and are kept in shallow pits and given rotten meat, it’s easier for them to chew, for a week before they are considered “children”. Usually only five or so survive to “childhood” and Talpi don’t really consider worm-talpi to be sentient until a week. Talpi also raise and herd giant insects for all parts of life. They use silk strands from spider-cows for their clothes, ride giant beetles up walls, and use giant worms for meat. Surface Talpi use their giant insects as both riding animals and weapons.

Giants - Multi-armed hairless men who stand ten feet tall or even taller. They hate humans because they were given the gift of magic while they were cursed to never be able to use it. They are inherently stronger than most other races and usually are just bandits. Some drink the blood of the sleeping Midgard Serpent to gain horrific powers. Some say they used to be Aesir, the warrior children of old gods, but the blood must have been diluted from a thousand years of breeding. Now they measure their families closeness to deity-hood by the number of arms they have.

Trolls - Big smelly and silly trolls live in swamps and sewers and eat rocks and metals. They aren’t very smart and tend to be kind to travelers. Evil wizards like to warp their minds and use them as monsters.

Draugr - Undead creatures consumed by obsessions, these obsessions usually influence their physical form in some manner. They enjoy causing pain and chaos no matter their obsessions.

Tariaksuq/Shadow-people - A race of people as varied as humanity. They can’t be seen if someone stares straight at them.

Ijiraq/Shape-shifters - Monsters who masquerade in human form. They can change their bodies to suit their needs and are strict carnivores. They enjoy the taste of children most.

Qalupalik/Boogeys - Beautiful women who are always covered in water. They have long nails that can cut stone and are also carnivores. They tend to be less monstrous than Shape-Shifters but a few will go down the darker path and steal children. They love the water and some even have a magical ability to control it.

Blotsno/Frosties - Frosties are a kind race of magical people. They were born when Asgard fell on Earth in the far reaches of Antarctica. Frosties tend to stay to themselves and most only worry about breakfast, lunch, dinner, and tea time. They form large homes in snow drifts and love twinkling lights because they remind them of the stars. They have a long history of artists and will write songs, paint pictures, and create plays all about the Aurora Borealis. The females tend to look like snowmen while the males are look like they are carved out of ice. They are born in tiny ice eggs that the women lay. Their special type of magic allows them to easily move small objects and even boil water and fry meat without heat.

Goblins - Goblins come in hundreds of variations but the most important part is they are carnivorous, treacherous, little imps who delight in torture and are only motivated by an empty belly and inventive ways to kill things.

Languages - Norse: Old Norse with additions of English and Mexico. Farther east it’s mixed with Korean and Chinese. Spoken by everyone but Moles, Frosties, Giants, and Trolls each have their own dialect. Everyone knows a version of it, it’s basically Common. If you take Comprehend Languages you also learn every dialect.

- Coyote: A mystic language held by all animals given to them by the trickster shape-shifter Coyote. Shadow-people, Shape-shifters, and Boogeys all have their own dialect of this. Comprehend Animals gives you all of this.

- Machines all have specific language-like codes. Comprehend Machines give you all of this.

- Rot-Speak: Draugr come in hundreds of variations and many can speak Norse, but the maddening language they share is given with Comprehend Spirits.

The Old Gods were good Gods though not always nice ones. Each race has been touched by one of them. Even dead the Gods are worshipped and the many small magical creatures they had made in their long life respect prayers to their deity.

Old Wodd was their leader and father to most of them. He made the Talpi as a gift to his son Bjorn who loved insects. Wood spirits follow his prayers. All creatures answer prayers for wisdom and leadership when send with his name.

Little Vadr was their trickster and a bit of a bastard. Even then he still fought against the Leviathan when the Last War came. He made the shape shifters, the boogeyman, and shadow-people. Spirits of books and secrets listen to his prayers. Coyote answers his prayers for him but chooses only the most tricky and thieving of them.

Bjorn the Bear was Old Wodds favorite son. He was the strongest and the Giants say they were his children, though nobody believes them. He enjoyed small things and fought to protect them. Old spirits of stone and steel listen to his prayers. Any prayer for strength is answered by spirits if sent with his name.

Holda the Black was the oldest daughter of Old Wodd and enjoyed darker things. She helped Little Vadr make his Shadow People and generally hid until the Last War.

Young Sybil was the youngest daughter of Old Wodd and was the most beautiful by far. She was lost to the Elves, never to come back.

Old Mag is the wife of Old Wodd and mother to all races. She made the Blostsno’s to take care of the world when she would die, though Bjorn gave the men great strength. Most believe she was the reason why humans gained magical abilities. Any prayer for protection is answered by spirits when said in her name and magic items charged with her prayer can tell when Elves are near.

During the Last War the Gods fought Leviathan, a massive continent sized serpents, and his many children. Though they slew his children the body of Leviathan fell on the world and was not dead. He sleeps, wrapped across the north, and it’s blood corrupts anything it touches. This has risen legions of Eldritch horrors and some giants even trek across the planet to drink its caustic blood. Those who survive find themselves filled with dark and horrific strength or mutated into powerful monstrosities.

Leviathan ate the World Tree when the Last War happened but a single mysterious man, known as Father Root, took two seeds and replanted them in the center of the world. These two seeds grew to be the Tree of Life, always in bloom, and the Tree of Death, always bare. These two Trees gained a sapience and created the Order to protect the world if ever the Leviathan woke again. In time every kingdom learned of the Order and took their warriors, called Timber Agents, and their actions as law. One thousand years later they are known as the group of the most powerful mortals in the realm and the treasure from their adventures passed onto the Order itself. In exchange for their service Timber Agents are given riches, are above the law in every but the most dystopian state, and contacts in secret groups that would never speak to a lesser mortal.

Every five years the Gauntlet of Wood is held to find new warriors for the Order. Hundreds of people attempt to pass it but those who pass each year are barely a handful of the contestants. It is deadly, it is cruel, and in the end your death is more likely than your passing.

[bunny-hoodlum]

Post post post *-* i miss your writings <\\3

Thank you for the love, Anon! I apologize for answering this now, I was still waffling over this decision. 😣 But here's what I got so far! ✨

Continuation of Foster Sib AU:

He wasn't the first child.

Somehow he had expected to be.

A girl his age, age five, and her older cousin had already been living here for a year now.

They had family, they were just… deemed unfit.

Maybe they'll take them back, when they get their act together. He doesn't know. He only knows he doesn't have the luxury of hope that they do.

Nobody was coming back to get him.

And he had nowhere to go back to.

The foster lady with the ruby red eyes showed him his room.

~~~

At first, Naruto thought Hinata and Neji were close, so much so that no one could ever be closer.

Then he thought it was their defense mechanism to keep others out.

Hinata was nice enough, but she never strayed far from Neji.

That was because he never let her.

She wasn't just fiercely loyal to him. She was scared of him.

He tried to get Neji in trouble. Kurenai-obachan needed to know. But Hinata stopped him. She told him not to split them apart. That she didn't mind Neji bossing her around. She would never be okay if she didn't know where her cousin was.

So he tried. But it was hard. He still picked fights with Neji.

That didn't make Hinata happier, either.

He still thinks it's Neji's fault when she finally breaks down, telling them both off before running to her room.

He runs after her, but she won't let him in.

He goes to his room and talks to her through his wall. He has to press himself flat against it, straining to hear any sound.

Could she hear him, too?

"I'll leave Neji alone, okay?" It's a bitter promise, because it makes him feel like he's surrendered when he did nothing wrong. But part of him also feels tired of this pattern day in and day out. He'd rather spend his time better. And then he has a thought. "Hinata… can I bug you instead?"

He hates being alone.

Fighting at least gives those a reason to interact with him. So when he gives up that, what is he left with?

It's faint, but he heard her.

"Sure," she said.

~~~

Growing up, they got in trouble for staying up late and talking too loud.

That's because Hinata was all Neji's for a good part of the day, while he was left to fend for his own entertainment.

He got the idea to drill a hole into their bedroom wall so that way they could easily whisper and not get caught.

That was one of his first thrills: vandalism.

"I think you mean 'home improvement'," Hinata giggled.

He had to process that.

He never realized until then that he still hadn't considered this his home.

Yes. This was home.

~~~

Girls at school always cupped their ears when they were eavesdropping. They cup their mouths when they're telling secrets or bad-mouthing others.

Hinata cups her ear around the hole in their wall when he's telling her stories. And she cups her mouth when she's telling him hers.

Her ears are sensitive, so he tries to watch his volume. He forgets himself when he gets excitable.

Her breath tickles and teases a memory from his brain, one that fills him with both sadness and relief.

When he tries to sleep, he searches for the root of this feeling.

The next day on television, there's a mother murmuring her baby to sleep.

He adopts that image as his own forgotten memory.

And the following night, Hinata's soothing whispers confirm that he had a mother once, and she sang him to sleep.

~~~

Hinata's a wimp.

He loves the girl, but at school she is a gosh damn trouble magnet.

He jumps in front of her bullies, fists blazing, and he loses.

A lot.

But he gets to pick fights again. He gets to be cool from time to time. And when he gets better, he becomes the best. He gets a reputation!

By the time they reach fifth grade, he doesn't even have to raise a fist.

A well-aimed death glare is enough.

When Neji's graduation forces the two cousins apart for the first time in their lives, the older Hyuuga undergoes a personality shift.

He expresses legitimate concern for Hinata.

They're both standing on the empty landing just outside of their elementary's gymnasium where the remainder of the proceedings were taking place. Neji's stare, heavy with expectations and ultimatum, bore down on his little shoulders.

"You do realize you're the only one I can ask."

"Yeah, don't worry. I got this!" Naruto flashed his patent overconfident grin, and this time not a hint of condescension passed across Neji's face.

His heart thumped wildly when he and Neji returned to the gymnasium, with Neji returning to his position amongst the other students in the center of the room. Family members lined up against the walls in foldable metal chairs.

When Naruto took his seat, he stole a glance at Hinata on the other side of Kurenai-obasan. Her gentle profile seemed to unlock something inside of him. Waves upon waves of warmth filled his body, pulling him in deeper into a languid pool of contentment.

He would be her protector from now on.

He would be her brother.

~~~

He never noticed how their paths lead each other further and further apart.

Their daily routines had remained the same.

Aside from a few exciting developments.

Like Kurenai reconnecting with a childhood friend. The man was a Marine and a chainsmoker, but he seemed cool.

Or how Naruto happened to find a collection of discarded skin mags behind the pool storage room at school. They now resided safely beneath his bed.

There was also the neighborhood shrimp squad of grade-schoolers who loved to call him 'Boss' whenever he came over to play.

Or that time he was hanging out with Sasuke, and unusually the stoic lad had insulted a group of delinquents before he did at the local arcade.

Sasuke may have taken out four guys by the time Naruto took out one, but he still got the win.

But way, way before all of that something had really surprised him: Hinata becoming Deputy Class Rep to their own Haruno Sakura.

She was volunteered for the position based on her equally outstanding grades. Or, at least that's what they had believed.

Over time, it became apparent that they had volunteered Hinata to be Sakura's foil. Hinata was considerate and much more approachable. If the students wanted something, they went straight to Hinata first.

But then her unchanged nature became more detectable.

Like he's said before, Hinata's a wimp.

She crumbles at the slightest disapproval.

She implodes when she's convinced she could do better. When she thinks she's failing.

So halfway through their first year, she started to get abused. Girls and boys alike tried to strongarm her into making their lives 'better'. Making her fetch their lunches and dumping cleaning duty on her every day.

Somehow Sakura never noticed. He tried to tell her, but she didn't take him seriously. He tried to tell the teachers, but they acted like he had no evidence.

Liars! They just didn't want to get involved! What good are teachers if they don't help their students?!

The following exams were posted outside the classroom.

Sakura was number two, just below Ino. They were always competing for the top. Hinata was number three. Always number three. And he was dead last.

Hinata could rise to the top, but she never tries.

He always tries, but he can never seem to rise.

He realized then that he hasn't been doing enough as her brother.

Compared to her, he has no future, no potential. It wouldn't be a waste if he took on her burdens.

He can take abuse, because during those first five years at a state-run orphanage, abuse was all he knew.

The following day, he took Hinata's place as the class slave. He fetched their lunches, got them drinks whenever they asked. The only thing they never asked him to do was their homework. Because… yeah.

Nobody knew they lived together.

If they did, well, he might've been forced to copy Hinata's assignments all the same.

He never noticed how their paths lead them apart, how their daily routines boxed them into two different social spheres never to overlap.

He was still her brother. Her protector.

But by high school, he'd also become the embodiment of trouble itself.

And he couldn't let that stuff disrupt her life.

~~~

He might've been a loser at school, but he made damn sure he was a winner in every other aspect.

Sasuke helped him learn to pick up girls and win street brawls.

Naruto got into the weightlifting club during their last year of middle school, his newly developed physique causing an interesting ripple effect amongst the student body. Hinata's former bullies became too intimidated to take advantage of him anymore, so they moved onto their underclassmen instead. The glances that were usually aimed Sasuke's way were starting to come his way now, and two martial arts captains from different high schools were vying for his recruitment.

Everybody was beginning to forget the dead last he used to be.

~~~

Naruto stood outside Ero-sensei's apartment door, envelope in hand. The door opened, revealing the ruddy face of a day-drinking Jiraiya and his smarmy grin.

Naruto presented the envelope with a proud smirk before letting himself inside.

Taking his shoes off in the genkan, he paused. There was another pair of shoes here, black leather boots with the stiletto heel. Naruto cleared his nerves from his throat and joined Jiraiya in the living room, sitting himself down by the low table. He held the envelope close to his stomach as he took in the sounds of someone working in the kitchen.

He didn't expect her to be here today.

A curvacious woman with wax white skin, facial piercings, and a crop of blue hair emerged with a tray of tea and set it down. She had a Geisha-like smile, immaculate and composed.

"You must be working hard, Uzumaki," Konan said. "Weren't you here three weeks ago with the last one?"