#The same horses go lame over and over or the same owners keep having horses go lame when they buy horse after horse

[isthehorsevideocute]

If I see one more walk/trot adult ammy fly around the country/go overseas to go horse shopping I'm going to have a fucking aneurysm.....

[damn-stark]

The Trouble- Jesse Imagine Pt.2

Jesse x Fem!reader (Not my gif)

A/N- finally got this up!! I hope you all like it! Leave your thoughts?!

Warning- angst, swearing, violence, fluff, LOONNG CHAPTER.

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

———-

Why were you even coming to this party?

Oh right because Maria was forcing you to. Now usually their would’ve been a little bit of excitement when coming to events such as these, but lately it just hasn’t felt that way.

Their was usually no one to dance with because apparently people were scared to even talk to you when Tommy or Maria were close by—Which was all the time in dances such as this one.

Mostly all you would do was stand with Ellie in the far corner with a drink in hand. Something that was probably going to happen tonight too. Gosh how—

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You say after feeling your body stupidly collide with someone else.

“No, it’s okay. It was my fault.”

Your eyes flutter away from the spilled drink to focus on the owner of the familiar voice....Jesse.

A smile appears on both of your faces,“I’m really sorry, Jesse. I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.” You apologize again as you let him down the small flight of stairs to later climb them yourself with intentions to go in the building.

“It’s nothing.” He quickly dismissed, attempting to turn away but before he could adding something else. “And I wouldn’t. It’s lame.”

“Comes from the guy that hates these things.” You chuckle.

Jesse shrugs, “I only go for one thing.” He lifts his now empty cup, making you cringe.

“Sorry, really, I didn’t mean to.”

“I told you it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

You look back at the buzzing party, hearing the music play from the inside and the commotion from the people, gaining some confidence to say the next thing. “I know you just walked out, but come inside with me, that way we can get you another drink. It would be a shame that you left without the one thing you came here for.” You grin.

Jesse looks at his empty cup and then at you for moment before he smiles and somehow agrees; “fine, only because you owe me.”

He walks up behind you and just as you were going to open the door, it flies open with Dina and Ellie rushing out.

“Everything okay?” Jesse questions the pair after noticing their off behavior.

Dina and Ellie go down the small flight of stairs and Dina simply dismisses his worry. “Not now Jesse.”

The first thing you noticed though wasn’t their weird behavior, but Ellie and Dina holding hands. 

You look to your best friend and quirk your eyebrow. Ellie simply answers with a shrug before she’s pulled away by Dina.

“That was weird.” Jesse commented.

“Agreed.” You nodded. The both of you continue inside, swiping drinks that were already on the bar, both quietly standing to the side and watching the people dance in the center.

“You sure Maria cleared you for patrol tomorrow?” Jesse queried as he turned to face you.

You nod in agreement, “always with much hesitance, but she did.”

“That’s good.” He comments, watching you admire the people dancing in the middle even if you were turned facing him. In that moment without you realizing finally admitting something to himself about you.

“Yeah, you would miss me too much if I didn’t go. Who would tell you all those funny jokes?” You laugh, taking a sip of your drink and sliding your eyes to focus on him.

Jesse nods with a smile on his lips, holding your gaze as he set his drink down. A song he recognized and liked playing finally making his eyes shift to the the middle before he quickly looked back to you. “Want to dance?”

You quirk one eyebrow and laugh nervously, “are you sure? I thought you hated these things.”

He shrugs all nonchalant, “least I could do for the girl that’s always making me laugh.”

You smile shyly at his comment, feeling the warmth on your cheeks turn hotter. “I would love to dance.” You take his hand and let him take you to the dance floor, carefully placing your hands on his shoulders and letting him place his hands on your waist. The warmth on your cheeks burning hotter.

As the music softly played and Jesse and you swayed along to the beat, you couldn’t help but grin. “You’ve got some moves on you, who knew?”

“You think Tommy would shoot me if he saw us dancing?” Jesse wondered nervously.

You chuckle and shake your head, “is that why no one asks me to dance? Because they’re scared of Tommy?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well you shouldn’t worry about him. The person you should worry about is Maria.” You both laugh, moments later calming down and holding each other’s gaze that created a thick tension. One he partially broke when he spoke.

“You know I don’t think I could go on patrol with anyone else.”

“Why is that?” You asked. 

Jesse holds onto you tighter, leaning in closer to respond, “because you’re the best. And I’m not only talking you being the best doctor in this town, but at patrolling, taking down those infected like it’s no ones business.” He smiles, “you’re always leaving me impressed.”

“Is that so?” You lean in closer to the point your noses are brushing against each other’s, your eyes like his flickering below to your lips.

“It is.”

“I think you’re great too.” You compliment, “more than great actually. I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else either.”

Jesse then follows by moving his hand to cup your cheek, not caring if anyone else was watching or caring if the couple he was nervous about earlier watched or happened to be around either. He just pulled you in for a kiss. One you don’t hesitate to return or deepen. A smile felt through said action.

And if neither you remembered where you were, then you both would have let the kiss continue without question—however you couldn’t do such a thing.

Instead you smiled up at him, pressing one last kiss on his soft lips before you leaned your head on his shoulder and continued dancing along to the music.

******

SEATTLE DAY 2

What was their to say about Seattle, beside it being wet, cold, bombed and WET.

How could anyone stay dry in this city? 

Who knew.

Jesse hops off the horse and walks into a part of a destroyed building while you wait...and....wait for him to come back, something he never does. So you too get off the horse and carefully walked to where Jesse had disappeared to—at first you were hesitant since he never said it was clear, or that it was fine for you to follow but you did anyway. Slowly.

“Jesse?” Before you could poke your head to check, said man walks out, somewhat surprised you being so close already.

Regardless he gestures you to follow, “come, I found something.”

This time without hesitation you follow after him, noticing the used campfire on the ground.

“Do you think it was one of them?” You ask.

He places his hands on his hips and continues to examine the campfire before answering. “Most likely.”

Seattle seemed like a big place, Jesse and you had barely arrived and have only seen a small percent of it. Downtown Seattle more specifically—you had seen a dead horse under a overpass, it was Tommy’s that much you knew. How long ago did it happen? That was up to debate. The only semi answer you did get was this clue now. But that too set you back. It could be Ellie’s or Tommy’s.

The only thing you were certain of was that you were tired.

“Maybe we should take a break here.” You suggest to your boyfriend. “Theirs wood.” You walk to pick up the log but shortly groan at the disappointment, “wet wood. Never mind.”

Jesse looks outside for a brief moment before glancing back to you, his eyes seeming to be concentrated on you for a minute. Looking deep in thought before he nodded. “Yeah you’re right. We can’t stay long though.”

“I know.” You shrugged your backpack off your shoulders before falling to the floor and letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Do you think we’ll find them soon?”

Jesse takes a seat next to you and shrugs, “I hope so. I keep seeing more and more WLF around.”

“I just hope they’re okay.” You muse before taking out a snack.

“All of them?” Jesse smirks.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder with your own; “Yes everyone. Dina might be your ex but she’s still from Jackson. She’s family.” You smirk and meet his gaze, “it’s like you want me to be jealous.”

Maybe you were a little. But you didn’t want to feed his ego.

“Of course not.” Jesse grins as he takes some of your food, shifting himself so he’s laying his head on your lap.

At the memory of something you needed to tell him your grin widens. “Do you want to hear a joke Ellie told me?”

“Okay, shoot.”

Already feeling like lauhing you try and calm down to ask him first, “What is the downside of eating a clock?”

Jesse stays quiet for a moment, his gaze focused on some part of the building as he thinks. “Uhh,” he glances up at you and shrugs, “I don’t know, what?”

“It’s time consuming.”

Jesse shifts up and looks at you with a smile. A laugh shared between the both of you a couple moments after. “That.” He begins after calming down, “that was funny, I got to give it to ya.”

You nod and unintentionally begin to play with his hair—a habit you now figured out you picked up in your down times while traveling over here. And the thing you liked was that he didn’t complain, or protest against it, he just let you. He let you do whatever hairstyle you could on his hair.

Like now for example. He let you carefully braid his hair without fussing or moving. In fact you think he might like it.

“This setting,” you sigh while taking a strand of his in between your fingers to then cross it with another, “makes me want to start a fire and play my guitar.”

“That would be nice.” Jesse agreed, “tell stories, laugh and drink with friends.”

You hum softly and repeat the same action as before except starting on his second braid; “maybe after we get back?”

“No.”

You stop and feel your eyebrows knot together, “no?”

“I just mean, I owe you that date first. A real first date.”

You smile and continue. “You dont. We already had our date.”

“But I want to make it special. My own way, not rushed. Or having to look out for infected.” He argued.

“It was still special.” You finish the braids and rest your chin on his shoulder to continue with his unnecessary argument. “It was rushed, yes, but it was still special. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Plus I don’t think we’re going to have a date in Idaho again.”

“I guess you’re right.”

You place a kiss on his cheek and your smile turns into a mischievous one. “Can we take a picture?”

Jesse looks back at you with a serious face, “no.”

“Come on,” You stifle your giggle as you saw how he looked with his hair picked up. “You look cute and your braids are going to fall out soon. Plus we took a picture in Idaho and Oregon, we need one for Washington too.” You pout your lip and bat your eyelashes. That action winning him over with much hesitance.

And before he could change his mind you take your Polaroid camera and take a picture of the both of you. “Love it.” You whisper once it fully develops.

“Can I see that?” Jesse asks about the camera.

You quirk your eyebrow and put the picture away, debating if letting him grab it was a right choice; “why?”

“I want to take a picture.”

Narrowing your gaze on him you hesitantly let him take it, watching him carefully, a shy smile soon tugging at the corner of your lips when he pointed the camera at you.

“See. Now,” he continues after snapping said picture, “I’ll have one of you,” he smiles as he places the picture inside a pocket of his jacket, “everywhere I go.”

Feeling the warmth on your cheeks you grin before leaning and pressing a soft kiss on his lips, an action he easily returns with more passion. Slowly you cup his cheeks to deepen said kiss, resting your knees on either side of him.

Before things could go any further, distant voices pulls you both away to quickly hide behind the wall—Jesse peeks his head out, letting you do the same seconds after, noticing right away the WLF patches on their jackets. Jesse noticing the same thing grabbed your backpack from the ground and handed to you so you could put it on. Him doing the same with his before taking your hand and tugging you through a hole that was out of sight from WLF soldiers.

“We left the horse.” You whisper as you look over your shoulder when you hear the soldiers find said animal.

“We can’t go back,” he responds in the same whisper whilst he picks up his pace, “we have to leave now that we’re undetected.”

“But—”

“We get caught and we won’t find Tommy, Ellie or Dina.” Jesse Interrupted. “We have to keep going.”

You nod, “okay.”

——

“Where are we?” Your eyes wonder the neighborhood, not only to keep watch for any WLF’S or infected, but route your exits since this man doesn’t want to admit he’s now lost.

“A neighborhood called Hillcrest.” He retorted.

You sighed deeply and watched him from the corner of your eye, “really? I thought we were in the city.”

“We are not lost if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You snorted, “never was.”

Jesse cocked his head to the side, flashing you a charming grin, “good.”

You rolled your eyes in a lighthearted manner, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips thereafter.

“I heard from some WLF soldiers we snuck by that Tommy passed—” the sound of gunshots cuts Jesse off immediately, not sparing another second to pull you down with him and hide behind a wooden fence.

“What the hell?!” You whispered sharply as you snatched your pistol from your holster.

“Trespassers, behind that fence!

“No time, let’s go.” Jesse quickly searched around, having no choice but to sneak in the empty house next to you. The both of you climbed over the broken window to get inside, your eyes frantically searching for a way out, but only finding that the stairs were the only unblocked area. It wasn’t a really smart choice, but it was one you had to take.

Jesse walked ahead of you, quietly checking each room was clear—which it surprisingly was.

Regardless you couldn’t risk yourselves, not in a place swarmed by WLF’S. “We need to find a way out.” You whispered, poking your head out the window to spot four WLF’S entering the same house. “Shit. We got four coming inside.”

Before Jesse could say his idea out loud, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs made him react quickly to pull you into a closet, pulling you against him as he pressed his back against the wall. One hand covering your mouth while he peeked through the closest’s panels.

The sound of approaching footsteps making your heart hammer in your chest and grab onto the arm Jesse had over your mouth with a firm grip, while with your other free hand gripping onto your pistols handle. Your eyes briefly shutting at the sight of the soldier stopping before the doors, and right when you thought you were going to pass out from the fear the soldier retreated away. A relieved sigh escaping your lips at the knowledge.

Jesse let go of you and slumped to the floor, his hands running through his hair before letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Too late to go back now.” You mumbled as you sat in front of him.

“Yeah it is.” Jesse let out an amused huff of air as he let his head rest on his hands.

“But, we’re here now. Maria is already going to kill me, so we better make this trip worthwhile.” You tried to ease the situation, knowing that this little break wasn’t going to last long and that you were going to have either face those soldiers or sneak by them sooner or later—later being the preferred choice.

“What do you think she’s going to do to us? Kick us out? Ground us from going on patrols ever again?” You continue.

Jesse looked up at you with a tired smile, “she loves you. You’re basically her kid, the most she’ll do to you is make you sleep outside. Me on the other hand, who knows what she’ll do.”

You shrug, “at least I’ll have Tommy to suffer with me. And I’ll make her go easy on you.“

“Right. Well good luck with that, because after she finds out we’re dating, and that I was the reason you left, I think my only punishment will be getting banished forever. That or being shot.”

You giggle and shake your head, “I won’t let her do either of those things. You’re stuck with me now.”

Jesse rolls his head to the side to hide his grin, answering with wit instead of a sweet comment, “well at least then we’ll be banished together.”

“Whatever.” You grin.

——

“I think we can jump from this window and sneak through all these yards.” Jesse muttered as he carefully opened the window, the sound of someone ordering a dog around making both yours and Jesse’s head to turn in that direction. “Shit, I guess we have no other option.”

Jesse’s head turned to you, pointing his head to the window, motioning you to go first.

“Okay.” You mouthed whilst climbing out, your head spinning at the sight of the distance of the window and the grass. “Well...okay. I’m going.” Without overthinking it, you pushed yourself off the window sill and landed on the ground quietly. Shortly after Jesse landed, a little more harsher than you had, but doing so without breaking anything...you hoped. “You good?”

Jesse nodded, not waiting to move to check the surroundings, a limp noticeable as he walked.

“Jesse, you’re—”

“I’m okay,” he interrupted, “we have to go.”

You hesitated for a moment but followed after him regardless, coming to a quick stop seconds after. The same dog as before coming out of the same house, his nose sniffing the area, second by second getting closer to Jesse. So in quick thinking you pulled out your Molotov and lit it, throwing it towards a empty car.

That explosion getting the dogs attention and making its owner and him both run to check the area, letting Jesse and you sneak past another house successfully. 

And here you thought that you were going to make it out of this neighborhood in one piece. 

A women walked around a corner and caught Jesse and you by surprise. “They’re right here, the trespassers! They’re—” the women’s warnings cut off with a shot through her throat, neither Jesse or you waiting for more to gather around or surprise you to run through another yard, you having to look back to shoot a man on the leg at the sound of him chasing after you.

More ran out of the other houses, having you throw your body to the side to avoid being caught, in that action falling behind Jesse. Said man not noticing right away, not until he heard one of the soldiers shout. “Get her!”

Now you were against killing people if it could be avoided, or if it didn’t call for it all, but their was occasions where you needed to. Where you needed to choose your own safety. Occasions like these—in a swift motion you shot the soldier that was straight ahead and then shot the other one behind you, turning to the side to shoot another one, but before you could even press the trigger, Jesse shot first.

A grateful smile, played on your lips, one that didn’t last before you both were on the run again, having to jump over another window, this time though, successfully landing and finding an empty house. One where no one saw you rush into, a place where you could catch your breath if even for a minute. Yes their might be more shots heard the in the distance, and yelling, but you both needed this. Even for a minute.

And trying to do just that, you hid between the shadows of the house to remain hidden, both hands on your knees as you tried to calm your breathing.

“Are you okay?” Jesse questioned.

You nodded and assured him, “yeah, you?”

“As good as—” the sound of someone quickly approaching made him cut his words off, his eyes focused on the window you just jumped out of, the sight of someone (as expected) jumped out of it too. At first Jesse was going to shoot them, but he holstered his gun and stepped forward to grab said person and pull..her back, a hand covering her mouth as trucks passed.

At first she struggled, but as soon as Jesse shushed her she seemed to calm down—you were nothing but confused, especially since your boyfriend had helped a stranger, but as soon as you walked forward, you saw who it was. Ellie.

Said girl turned around after Jesse let her go, her eyes focused on him for a moment before they shifted to you, a pure look of confusion flashing through her eyes.

“What are you two doing here?” She queried as she blinked repeatedly in disbelief.

“You think we let you do this on your own?” Jesse responded, causing a smile to spread on your lips.

“Y/N...Jesse.”

A smile that didn’t last long at all.

“Where’s Dina?”

No need to be jealous....No need.

“She’s safe,” Ellie assured, “she’s just sick.”

“What kind of sick?” You spoke up.

Ellie’s eyes landed on you to answer, “she’s fine.”

“Fan out! She went that way.”

Jesse and you quickly pulled out your guns at the sound of a WLF soldier.

“Christ, there’s a lot of them.” Jesse mused, before turning around to limp to find a way out.

“Hey, how hurt are you?” Ellie wondered.

“I’ll be okay.” Jesse dismissed, “your friends out there rushed us. No warning, no nothin.”

“Tell me you two didn’t come alone?”

Jesse and you shared a glance, letting you respond to your friends question, “give us shit about it later.”

Ellie scoffed, “you’re both fucking idiots, you know that, right?”

You looked over your shoulder as you continued forward, showing her a smug smile, “yeah.”

Stopping in front of a window, the three of you peeked your heads out and counted the people up front. “See that truck.” Jesse pointed.

“That’s your plan?”

“We need to get some distance,” Jesse continued. “You two ready?”

You nodded and heard Ellie answer, “yeah. Be smart about it.” Before the three of you quietly crouched in the tall grass to hide behind a fence wall, waiting for the right time to sneak attack the WLF soldiers that were in the way of the truck. It was a tight fit with three people in a tiny car, but somehow fit—needed to anyway.

The only damn problem was that the car wouldn’t start. “Give it some gas.” You urged Jesse.

“I am.”

“Give it some more.” Ellie added in a panic as they began to shoot at the truck—Having Ellie and you turn back and shoot those shooting at you. “Jesse get us the fuck out of here!”

“I’m trying!”

You continued shooting, your fear skyrocketing at the sound of the car not starting. And it seemed like it wasn’t, until it finally did! The only thing was at the same time the car started, someone snuck up on Jesse, their arm wrapping around his throat.

“Jesse!” You bellowed, this time not hesitating for a minute to shoot the person that had him in a choke hold.

“Jesus.” He breathed, before he went back to the stirring wheel, stepping on the grass to continue forward, while Ellie and you continued shooting at soldiers, to what then turned to shooting at a truck chasing after you. Both of you having to turn around as it sped forward in attempts to cut Jesse off and kill all of you—when Ellie managed to shoot the driver, the truck kept swerving your way, hitting you and pushing the truck to the side until it crashed into a lighting post.

Jesse kicked the windshield off, making it easier for Ellie and you to now shoot the damned infected coming your way. Somehow all of you managing to escape on the working car; something that wasn’t easy as all kinds of infected swarmed the car, one grabbing a hold of Ellie to try and pull her back and bite her.

Luckily it was something you managed to avoid by reaching over and stabbing the runner in the head. But in that action, in the distraction the door broke off and Jesse crashed into something in the back. The only good thing to happen was he managed to drive forward, in that crashing into a clicker—it took a couple shots but Ellie and you killed it...the bad thing was that you all crashed into a fence, and the car slid off a hill and crashed into a body of water.

The car was quickly submerging, causing all of you to hold your breath as you sunk down. Some luck finally coming to your side as you managed to swim out of the truck—before you did though, you grabbed Ellie’s hand and helped her out and up to the surface. All three of you gasping for air that lacked in your lungs.

“You guys okay?” Ellie question’s when you all finally made it on the ground.

You shot her a thumbs up, while Jesse responded, “never better.”

“I think we’re in the clear.” Ellie assured.

Pushing yourself off the ground, you extended your hand out to Jesse, “Come on.” He took it with no hesitation, offering you a small smile.

“Thanks.”

After Ellie noticed you both up and...somewhat ready to go moved forward. “This way.”

——

Why was your heart beating so fast? Maybe because you were about to see your boyfriends ex. One he still might have feelings for...well..that was a far stretch since he did ask you to be his girlfriend. But the insecurity still lingered. 

After all, they dated for a while.

And when Dina noticed him, the insecurity heightened. The way she hugged him made it worse.

“You okay?” She asked him.

“Nothing a little sleep won’t take care of.” He reassured her.

Dina then came to you, wrapping you in hug much like his. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and offered a feigned smile, “never better.”

You tried not to feel jealous, or insecure about them. Even after her questions, after watching how she looked at him, how she took care of him. Something you should’ve done—but it was hard not to feel that way...and it was hard for Ellie too. That much you saw.....odd.

After watching said girl leave, you followed after, following her to what seemed to be a radio room. She knew you were there, even if she had her back to you.

“Can I tell you something? Promise you won’t tell Jesse?”

You swallowed thickly, hesitating but answering nonetheless. “You can tell me anything, you know that. You’re my best friend.”

Ellie turned to you with a frown, her eyes on the ground before glancing at you, a brief pause before she spoke the unbelievable.

“Dina’s pregnant.”

.

.

.

Tagged- @protect-lev​ , @expecto-nox​

[jui-imouto-chan]

Sneak Peek into my Reverse AU (RK1K)

Markus smiles down at Carl, wheeling him beside the table before seating himself. Carl smiles at him, placidly watching him take a few bites before he turns on the TV. Markus’ glabella scrunches as he takes in the news, more coverage on the situation in the Arctic with Russia.

He sighs, sitting back in his chair with a petulant chomp of his bacon. “TV off.”

Carl tilts his head at him, blue eyes curious. “Markus?”

“I’m alright. Thank you for worrying, Carl.” Markus pauses and takes a sip of his coffee, “How about you find something to occupy yourself until I finish?”

He earns a nod and then Carl is wheeling himself across the room to the door beside the giraffe, moving into the studio and grabbing at a canvas before it can even slide shut. Markus smiles softly at the sight, even if the sight of Carl being unable to walk to his favorite activity makes him feel a pang of distant sadness.

“The damage was excessive, you might just have to get a replacement. I’ll give it to you free of charge, good friend, but even if we transfer his memory, he won’t be the same Carl that you know.”

“It’s fine,” Markus assured her.

“Then we’ll prepare--”

“No, I mean that that’s not necessary. We’ll be going now.”

Carl stared up with a certain twinkle in his eyes, and when they arrived home, all he managed was a, “Thank you,” to which Markus smiled, ever enigmatic, and told him that he was only sorry that he couldn’t be fixed.

Markus grabs for the remote on the table, turning the TV on and lowering the volume immediately. He changes the channel and rests his chin on his fist, melting into the table with a large, silly grin on his face.

“Lieutenant Connor Stern has just solved yet another case! Revealing a man who’d advertise himself as a loving father to be an abusive alcoholic, the victims of the abuse come forward to thank Stern personally.”

The scene cuts to a brunet little girl sat beside a woman with short blonde hair, both of whom brighten up upon a distracted-looking, mildly disheveled brunet male entering the room. He smiles at them gently, but his features contort in surprise and then sheepishness as the two females envelop him into hugs, smiling gratefully into his coat.

The newscasters voice-over the scene, cooing and gushing over the bashful grin the Lieutenant has. He notices the cameramen filming them and flushes beautifully, and Markus barely represses the urge to slam his fist into the table as an expression of his overwhelmingly swollen heart. 

“Fanboying again?” Carl asks, suddenly right beside Markus, to which the dark man can’t completely quiet his shout of surprise, nearly toppling out of his chair.

Markus sputters before managing to shout indignantly, “N-No! I was just watching the news and he so happened to show up! That’s it!”

Carl smiles, amused. Markus blows him a petulant raspberry, crossing his arms while looking away. The TV draws his attention once more, as now it shows the Lieutenant, on his own, rubbing his neck and looking to the side.

“I just wanted to help them, the fame be damned. If I couldn’t find a steadfast legal method for saving them, I’d find a loophole or do it someway else,” he says, even as someone in the background attempts to reprimand him.

Markus unwittingly releases a dreamy sigh, upon which Carl belts out chuckles that stain Markus’ cheeks dark red.

“I didn’t take you to be someone who appreciates art,” he says, hinting at an inquiry.

Connor sputters, pink dusting his cheekbones. “I’m not—I mean, I just—it’s—I do! I like...! I like art...” he finishes lamely, deflating. Hank casts him an amused look, his LED cycling yellow as he likely documents that information.

“Quite a reaction to such a simple question. What aren’t you telling me, Lieutenant?”

“I didn’t climb my way up the chain just for my title to be used so mockingly,” Connor mumbles, but Hank doesn’t take the bait.

“You can’t change the subject so easily with me, kid. What has you so intrigued by this piece? Its uniqueness in comparison to the other images in this gallery is relatively low, so it should not garner such attention.” Hank continues his analysis of Connor, heedless of the redness crawling up to his ears, “You paused at a similar work on your terminal at the department, made by the same--“ A smile creeps up Hank’s face as he comes to a realization, his LED shifting to blue, to Connor’s dawning horror, “Do you, perhaps, have an interest in this particular artist?”

Connor’s face burns. “N-No, it’s just a coincidence, that’s all! Je— This artist’s art just happened to come up that day, and the name just... seemed... familiar.”

“Lieutenant, they don’t have the names displayed right now.”

Connor’s expression is that of defeat, his shoulders slumping and smile dead. “...Ah. So it seems.” 

The HK800 refrains from laughing, his social programming dictating that he act as human as possible to maintain a friendly relationship with Connor, though Fowler’s disapproval from within the Zen Garden is inexplicably calling for him not to. His sly grin is still enough to garner a sigh.

“Damn android,” Connor mutters, burrowing into the collar of his coat with a petulant pout.

“This thing is not our dad, okay? Mark, look at it! You’re wheeling it around when it’s supposed to serve you! What good is it to you, huh? Did you replace your brain with your fancy paints? Or maybe plastic, like this fucker-- “

“That’s enough, Leo,” Markus breathes, trying to keep himself from lashing out. He steps in front of Carl, who stares up with forlorn azure orbs and an LED of faint yellow. “That’s enough.”

Leo seems to look for something, in his eyes, in the room, in the sad-eyed android in the wheelchair behind him, the one who’d been introduced as a servant and became akin to their—more Markus’ than Leo’s—father-figure.

Markus’ heterochromatic gaze yields nothing to him, and he flounders for a moment, stumbling over his words and over himself as he makes to storm off, “You--I-It can’t replace dad. Your little toy there, it can’t play house with you forever. It can’t love you the way dad did, and you’re just going to ignore your only family left for it because you think you care about it. But you never cared, Markus, not about it, not about him, and not about me.”

Markus feels a lump in his throat. Carl places a hand on his shoulder consolingly, and the two of them watch in subdued silence as Leo repeats himself quietly and leaves the studio.

“Wakey, wakey, Lieutenant.”

Smack!

“Ah, shit, what the hell, Hank?” Connor whines, rubbing his cheek with bleary eyes, hissing as the stinging mark isn’t cooled by his palm.

Hank appears neutral, but Connor knows that behind the blank expression, he’s cackling at Connor’s expense. Or, rather, he has a feeling that that’s the case. He can’t see any other reason ‘the android sent by Cyberlife‘ would be such a pain in the ass.

“I need you for a case, so I had to wake you.” Hank’s eyes shift to the bottle of pills Connor tries to conceal behind his back, “In regards to your sleep, Lieutenant, why’d you consume a few too many doses of melatonin and then proceed to sleep on the kitchen floor?”

Connor laughs weakly, “I have trouble sleeping.”

Hank sends him a pointed look, glancing at the bottle for barely a moment and then, for just a fraction of a second, flicks his eyes over to the picture frame face-down on Connor’s counter, beside the cabinet where he keeps his medicine. “These are rather strong pills, Connor.”

“And my body has a strong resistance to medication of any sort.”

The two stare at one another, waiting for the other’s will to break, and it seems Connor is more stubborn than Hank had anticipated. Noted.

“I’m still tired, so how about you take care of this case yourself? You’re more than capable, as you’ve proven, so please just replace me early.”

Hank wordlessly stands up, which has Connor laying back on the kitchen tiles, curling up with his hand cushioning his head.

Not a moment later, Connor’s shooting up with a shriek as Hank dumps a pitcher of ice-water over him, enraged beyond measure.

“WHAT THE FUCK-- “

Hank doesn’t hold back his smile as he tells Connor that he’d better freshen up. Connor tries to punish him by having him pick out his clothes, but he ends up regretting it as Hank picks up a gag shirt someone’d gotten him at the department Christmas party, one with the design of a pug, holding a shield and a sword, majestically riding a horse. The words once printed overtop have long since worn off.

Bidding goodbye to his favorite cacti and a picture of his childhood dog, he follows Hank out to an autocab, unwilling to drive or let Hank into his car.

“I’m amazed that you managed to lead a revolution in this state,” Connor says, genuine awe written in the shines of his eyes.

Carl laughs, “It was a matter of planning. I was a strategist, but it was my--“ he almost seems to choke up at the next word, which still has Connor reeling, because how could anyone have ever thought these beings aren’t alive? “--my son who really did the hard stuff, like supply raids and marches. I ran speeches and the like, but it was all thanks to him and his support.”

“Your son? Is he--“

“He’s a human; his name is Markus Manfred. He was my owner, but he always felt more like family, and maybe we can now make that official.” His entire face softens when he says it.

The brunet smiles, and Carl can certainly see why his son is so taken with him. Little dimples frame his grin, and his earthy eyes have this gleam of knowledge that contradicts the naivete he seems to radiate with his boyish features, and his curls seem to bounce with life as he says, “I’m happy for you.” It’s so clear that he really, truly means it. 

Hank seems to take an interest in the ‘making it official’ part, because he gazes upon Connor with a thoughtful look on his face, as though considering it. Carl sends him a secret smirk, and Hank gains a faux-sourness, to his amusement. 

“I’ll introduce you two if you’d like. I think he’d be pleased to meet you.” Carl’s eyes have this slyness he’s no good at concealing, but Connor pays it no mind.

“I’d love that.”

((I’ll paste the link later after im finished ;D))

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

OT3FIC: Dobberman

20 - tongue discourage lopsided gift execute tiny rose shame

Her tongue peeked out the corner of her lip as she shifted slightly in her car seat, shades over her eyes and the stirring itch to get outside and stretch her legs that she could not give in to. This case had been bothering her for weeks, the pattern erratic and strange and mostly based off of disappearances and memory loss rather than any bloody bodies or signs of other such problems. Cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders, Jo gave a deep sigh as she settled in to stake it out longer.

She had already been watching for two nights and thus far no extra disappearances and no leads. Sitting in her car she’d set up a camera with display, angled just right from her vantage point behind the bouncer, to check for the glowing eyes of shapeshifters and also tracking on the mirror above all of the arrivals to check for sirens. She had nailed an iron boundary over the doorway and the windows of all the buildings exits just before dawn that very morning to track if any demons or ghost possessions or shadows for that matter were behind it and to keep them getting back in. And she had even painted the external walls the day before with invisible angel wards just to make sure it wasn’t her favorite archangel-Trickster up to games. But so far, no such luck on cracking the case.

Jo gave another soft sigh, the quiet voice of some late night radio host babbling to himself as if there was someone else there echoed out of her stereo as she continued to glance between her camera and the line that was forming at the doorway.

It wasn’t for another hour, an hour of boring music, lame dad jokes and some kid calling to complain about the boring music, right as the lack of movement was almost enough to discourage her after three days of no signs that this might not actually be one of her cases despite what her gut told her for her to spot it.

Twisting the keys out of the ignition and throwing them into her pocket, Jo looked each way along the road before dashing across in a gap in traffic and striding carefully but quickly along the footpath behind the bouncer right as the man was about to okay the newest arrival with the four very beautiful women along his arms. The very same four very beautiful women that hadn’t been seen or heard of from their families in over four weeks that she’d known in her stomach were not just runaways or on holidays somewhere.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” She hissed from behind the group as they were about to pass through the doorway. As the man in the center appeared to freeze at her voice, and his shoulders almost appeared to shake whether in amusement or like a duck shaking very annoying water from it’s back she couldn’t tell, before he attempted to step over into the club and was unable to press forward with an almost awkward stumble. “Or, maybe more like, I couldn’t do that if I were you.”

That time there was another of those shakes before the man turned to the bouncer and hissed quietly, “You didn’t see any of us.” He turned fully around, delivering the same hissed Whisper towards the lot of the assembled crowd nearest the door while those a few feet down just yelled loudly about ‘fucking line-jumpers’.

Jo waited a second before stepping back and a handful of feet back away from the line and the bouncer as the rest of the late night revellers continued in their normal behavior, a lopsided grin on her face in the knowledge that her instincts were right for a moment before the four women all started walking in a straight line past her and down the nearby alleyway to the side of the club. That wiped the look right off, and forgetting all about exactly who it was she’d been talking to, Jo set off after the quartet of women, calling “Hey! Wait!”

“They aren’t going to answer you, sweetie.” The voice was right beside her as she made her way into the alley - spotting the group of women huddling in a dark corner like hens nesting in a roost. Looking to the side, Jo raised an eyebrow back at him curiously. “They’re following instructions. I make sure they know what to do if things go wrong when I let them out of the house.”

“The what now? The house?!” “Yes, house, sweetie. They have to live somewhere.” “Since when do you have a fuckin’ house?!”

The man gave a laugh at that, shifting to lean against the dark bricks of the building side a few feet in from the corner, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a click of his fingers. Gray draw a breath in and released a puff of smoke at her, her hand waving it away with a small cough and a scowl, before he shrugged a shoulder. “I overheard some guys talking about some..movie? Documentary? Something? Anyway-” The shadow took another drag, and gestured towards her with it questioningly as Jo didn’t move closer, only continuing once she’d shifted to stand in front of him out of the sight of those passing the alley way without really looking for her. “-They were talking about this guy who was some big-shot or other. Had a house full of beautiful women on hand for anything he wanted, you see? Gave me an idea, why keep going out to find good lays when I can just keep them all crowded up for when I want one.”

Jo felt herself frowning in confusion for a moment, before her eyes widened and she reached out to smack at his arm in an automatic response, letting out an outraged noise. “The R Kelly documentary?! You have taken inspiration from the R Kelly documentary to get yourself a house full of-” Her eyes widened further, twisting to look down at the huddle of gorgeous women all dressed exactly to the shadow’s liking and standing silently together as a group with their eyes closed as if ‘powered down’ and waiting their next direction. “-of.. of...”

“Gorgeous women. Yes, I believe I have.” Gray’s lips curled up into a smirk as he looked down at her, the look widening as she smacked at his arm again ineffectively and glared up at him. “You humans really do keep giving us monsters a run for our money, you know. And that idea? Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth when I can complete it much more effectively than some little human with cash to splash.”

“God, you’re fuckin’ disgusting, did you know that?” Jo growled the words out towards him, shaking her head as if to try to shake the idea from it before she froze. “Well, I guess it’s better in a way than your torturin’ and killin’ them-”

“Oh no, I have a group for that too.” “For fucks sake, Gray! Stop making this so much worse.” “Sweetie, I can’t let you go about thinking I’ve lost my touch. Of course I have the ugly ones or the ones that don’t please me well enough for that.”

“Absolutely disgustin’.” She shook her head again, leaning back against the bricks with a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her hair with a groan. This had been such a hard hunt, it had taken her serious effort to execute properly and cover all bases, she was even somewhat impressed with herself for just how good her sigil work and the idea to iron the entries where the owners would never find it was complete genius. And for it all to be wasted on it being this asshole with his goddamn smirk and his fucking suits and his cigarette that he held out towards her and Jo tugging from his fingers and breathed in like a drowning man trying to settle the frustration and adrenaline that was racing through her with the soft hug of nicotine. “I can’t believe you’d do that-”

“What? Say I got the idea from there and not from you, you mean?” “Fuckin’ what?” “I mean, if you want to get technical sweetie, I got the first thought of the idea from you-” “What the fuck you mean by that?!”

“Setting up that tiny little house of yours? With your two little sex boys there to do your bidding at the crook of your finger?” Gray replied over her head, that infernal smirk fully still in place as he reached out to light himself another cigarette as Jo glanced up towards him - the butt resting between her lips as they curled in disgust at the suggestion. “I always figured the runt couldn’t possibly keep you satisfied, so your taking on another was inevitable-”

“You shut up about that.” “Why? Don’t like the truth, sweetie? Face it, you’ve always been flighty and it was only a matter of time until you went for more.” “And how exactly is that what happened at all?” “Oh trust me, I’m as surprised as you are that the runt’s fallen in line so well. You’re much better at that then that-”

“Don’t.” Jo cut over the other warningly, and at the twist of how his tone shifted from teasing to what she could tell was tight and uncomfortable as his brain caught up with what he was saying, she leaned her shoulders to the side, bumping against his gently.

There was a long pause between them, the silence of those in the alley covered by the rise and fall of the crowd around the corner’s noise, before the shadow seemed to catch himself and rose off of the side of the building with a sneer. “But still, credit where credit’s due, sweetie, you showed it’s a good idea to keep toys on hand for such fun-”

“You know that’s not even remotely accurate, you asshole.” Jo bit back, dragging the last of the cigarette before squatting down to set it to the ground and stamping it out with her boot, glare in place as she tried to keep the flush of shame that threatened to run through her just in case there was any truth to the shadow’s suggestions. “Look, just... how long until whatever you’ve done runs out for those girls?”

“What do you mean?” “How long until your Whisperin’ fades?” “What’s that matter? It’s not like you’re going to be able to do anything-”

Jo shifted straight upwards and off the wall then, her hand pulling the iron knife out of her boot, and pointed at the other threateningly. She knew from the raised brow on his face and the amused quirk of his lip that he knew that it was as likely to go into him as it was she would suddenly begin tap dancing; but even then, Jo shot a lot behind herself towards the huddled group of girls and then back to him with a raised brow of her own.

“Sweetie, why do you always do this?” “Cause, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t. Now - the Whispering?” “What makes you think I’m going to let you just scurry off with them?”

“Easy,” Jo’s lips quirked up in a smile in response as she flipped her knife about, giving a small shrug. “Because, you’re goin’ to get bored of that set up in no time and havin’ to keep feeding and washing and Whispering the lot of them. How’s all the chewing they do been to watch?”

Jo bit down on a laugh watching the way that the monster’s shoulders shuddered again, and there was a pause when she thought that she may have used the wrong play before the next moment there was a quirk of his lips into that godforsaken smirk and his own cigarette butted out under his foot. He shrugged a shoulder, as if rolling the phantom disgust away, before waving a hand. “Maybe you’ve struck something there, sweetie. It has been rather... limiting to my fun.”

“You don’t like limitations-” “Are you trying to propose something there?” “God no!” “You sure? Two men enough for you? Does the new one scratch that little ...itch of yours?”

���Why? You want to join my tiny little house?” Jo teased back as she heard the tone moving in the other’s own voice to the same just shy of flirtatious way her own had, before she let out a laugh at the disgusted look that crossed his face at the concept. Another shudder, and Jo let out another laugh, bright and light, before the shadow pinned her with a look. Holding up her hands, and the knife pointed upright away from him in her hand, Jo smirked back at him. “Okay, fine. But still-”

“Fine, sweetie, you keep that knife in your boot and I’ll leave you to shepherding those lost little girls home. I can’t imagine your new little dog is any happier with his mistress being gone than the runt is.” Gray replied with a roll of his eyes as he gave a wicked grin at her. The next second he was gone, and Jo barely had time to roll her own until the smack on her ass surprised her and the same voice whispered against her ear, “Just this time though. Next time, I’ll want something in return.”

Jo turned to strike out at him in a knee-jerk reaction, but by the time her knife was passing through where he had been there was nothing but air and the fading sound of a laugh.

Sighing to herself, Jo rubbed at the spot that still stung slightly before she shrugged her shoulders, slipped her knife back into her boot, and then turned to move towards the gaggle of girls with a groan as she had to work out the best way to wake them back up and get them home safe and sound.

[heoneyology]

Hearts on the Line: Ch.9

A/N: Things have calmed down a bit! Heads up there’s a portion where the MC has to get stitched up, I tried not to go into too much detail.

Genre: action, angst, romance, outlaw!au

Word Count: 4925

Summary: You’ve got a debt to pay, and Wooyoung has an agenda of his own. But for your help with just one last scheme, Wooyoung is willing to allow your debt to drop off—unknown to him, though, you also have your own agenda, and a loyalty to an unspoken Other. With hearts on the line, you each will end up having to make a decision that may risk what you both thought was simply just a game.

The ride back to the base camp is uncomfortable, to say the very least. You’re barely able to stay in the saddle on your own, and so Yunho rides behind you and allows you to lean back against him, an arm snaked around your waist as he holds you upright. He leads his horse along at a gallop with the reins in his free hand. He attempts to go slow and gently, but there’s an urgency to getting you back to camp that you can understand—that doesn’t make it any more comfortable, of course.

Each movement of the horse beneath you jostles you in a way that has you clenching your teeth against the pain. Every now and again, Yunho will ask you a question softly, close to your ear. You answer each time, not really able to remember what it is he’s asking and what you’re giving an answer to. You know he’s making sure you’re conscious still and not slipping away on him.

After a while, he begins to softly hum in your ear. Despite his deep voice, it’s melodic.

You don’t fall asleep, but the sound reverberating from the back of his throat soothes you enough to make the ride pass in a way that seems too fast yet too slow at the same time. You’re unable to firmly grasp at the concept of time.

“San!” Yunho’s sudden shout pulls you back to reality. You aren’t sure how much time has passed, having been lulled into a strange state of in-between by your riding partner’s humming. “Choi San!” He yells again, this time a bit more urgently.

Yunho slides from the saddle first, keeping a firm grip on you with a single hand as he does so. You realize then that you haven’t stopped clenching your jaw since the start of the ride. Slowly relaxing, you let out a breath, mentally preparing yourself for the pain about to come. There’s a frown furrowing Yunho’s brow again.

“Careful,” he croons to you, as you position yourself slowly to assist him in getting you down from his horse. Arms wrapped around you, he slips you from the saddle. You’re about to tell him that you can walk, but he’s back to carrying you bridal style without a single shred of hesitation.

“Choi San!” Yunho yells, once more, this time the urgency hovering close to a state of panic.

A sudden thundering of hooves, followed by some faint barking, makes you peek over Yunho’s shoulder. “There,” you murmur, and Yunho turns with you in his arms. The two of you watch San ride back into camp on his palomino, a small dog haphazardly barking as it trails a little too close to the horse’s hooves, pulling up short to a stop.

“You found Shiber,” Yunho comments off-handedly, before continuing, “Did you search the camp at all? Are your supplies mostly here, still?”

San dismounts, and as he does so he shoots his hunting hound a wide grin. The last you’d seen of the canine was when the dog had been curled asleep by the fire next to a contently sleeping Yeosang and Jongho. That seemed like ages ago, now, despite it only being close to a week, maybe a week and a half. You briefly wonder if Shiber had gone missing all of a sudden—it was no unknown fact to anyone that the dog was extremely fond of his owner, and didn’t take well to moments that San was away for days on end.

That’s when you notice the state of camp. You feel your head rolling along your shoulders in imitation of an owl as you do so, attempting to crane your neck around Yunho’s frame. While the camp isn’t completely torn apart, it’s clearly disheveled, as though some sort of tussle had happened. Items have been upturned, ripped open, and contents even spread around.

What happened? You wonder, just as San asks aloud, “What happened?”

He’s right in front of the two of you then, staring down at you with a stricken expression across his face. You pull your attention from the camp to meet San’s gaze, giving a meager smile.

“When you guys taught me how to fight and fend off knife attackers, you never followed up with what to do if that person had two knives.” Your attempt at a joke is quite lame, but you hear Yunho let out some sort of scoff-like laughter, and San—though he presses his lips into a hard, displeased line—gives a good-humored head shake.

“Yes, because you weren’t actually ever supposed to get into a knife fight,” San mutters, before nodding towards the center of the camp, close to the barren fire pit, a silent instruction for Yunho. San turns away, saying, “My tent was still fine, I should have enough to stitch her up.”

Yunho follows San’s silent direction, carefully setting you down on the ground next to the fire pit. He glances around the disheveled camp, moving about to collect some fresh wood to put a fire together.

“What happened here?” You ask, turning your head enough to allow you to study the state of what had been your temporary home until then.

“We don’t know.” San is the one who answers, returning to your side with a bag. He sets it down before he crouches at your side. “Hongjoong has an idea, but it hasn’t been confirmed. Seonghwa is also missing.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. He was the only one who hadn’t come to town that night. Yeosang and Jongho had said that they weren’t able to extract him from his tent, pouring himself over the books he carried with him. You remembered that the first night when this all had began, Seonghwa had been focused on studying something, but you could barely remember what. Considering he hadn’t been in the line of danger at all, despite his warnings, you found yourself worried.

“So, what happened?” San asked as he set about to work, he glanced up briefly at Yunho. “Get some water boiling in a pot, since we aren’t in any immediate danger ourselves and she isn’t, I want to sanitize this wound correctly. The bleeding seems to have stopped a while ago.”

You hear a hum of acknowledgement from Yunho, before the sound of a small spark against wood touches your ears. You flinch in surprise, briefly turning your head to watch Yunho tend a campfire, doing as San instructed with the water. Letting out a sigh, you turn back to San, watching him rummage through his belongings and pull out some various vials, bottles, and instruments, until he was satisfied with the assemblage.

“Short version of the story,” you begin, too tired to give all the details. They’ll hear it again, anyway, when Hongjoong inevitably sits you down to question you. “Wooyoung had a stupid idea, I went along with the stupid idea. I was acting as a spy. Got in a scuffle with a woman from Wooyoung’s past after gathering some information. We had a physical fight, I got stabbed—” You cut yourself off, glancing up at San then, “—the blade was doused in Gila monster venom, by the way.”

San has been handed a pot of boiled water by Yunho at this point, and he’s working on carefully cleaning a regular old sewing needle he’d procured. “Oh my,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Well, how are you feeling? I hear those are nasty to deal with. They won’t kill you, but they’re insanely painful. Unfortunately you have to just ride the venom out.”

You let out a grunt. “Ride it out is exactly what I’m doing, and it’s definitely not the most pleasant experience I’ve had.”

Quirking a brow, San studies you. “You’re handling the pain quite well.”

“I think the venom numbed me, to be honest. I ache inside. The stab wound I can’t really feel unless I make a sudden movement. Feels like my body has failed on me, because I feel nothing at all.”

After the needle is sanitized to his liking, San sets it aside. “Well, I hope you’re ready to feel something, because these next few things probably won’t be pleasant.” From under a curtain of hair, he looks up at you as he hovers of you. “For now I’m just going to clean this wound. Painkiller after, before I stitch it up. Can’t do anything for the venom, your body will naturally fight that off in its own way.”

You nod, grateful that he’s at least explaining to you what he’s doing and intends to do. Lying your head back, you let out a sigh, bracing yourself as you stare up at the night sky, littered with stars. You hear the tear of cloth as San cuts away the lower half of your shirt, flinching as he gently pours the hot water Yunho had boiled over your stab wound. The liquid, despite being smooth, is uncomfortably hot as it rushes around the edges of the wound and into the cut itself. San’s bare hand moves gently over the wound, rubbing away both dried and fresh blood.

As he works, you find yourself hyper focused on what he’s doing without looking, attempting to piece together a mental image of his hand at work.

“So,” you exhale, deciding the continuation of your story will distract you, “we got into a physical fight, I got stabbed—and I’m not really sure what made me think it was a good idea, but there was this lamp on the table in the room—we were in the saloon private rooms. I started to fall, my body couldn’t hold up my weight, and so I grabbed the lantern off the table and threw it onto the floor as I fell.”

“I thought the room would set on fire,” you lie, surprised at how easily it comes to you, “but then the whole building went up in flames.”

They don’t need to know that you were aware of Jean’s plan, or that you even knew Jean. They didn’t need to know that you’d smelled the gunpowder on the floor when you’d fallen the first time, and they definitely didn’t need to know you’d planned all of that to help ensure your survival. Now that Wooyoung was possibly injured because of you—these were things they didn’t need to know.

“Well, we heard that explosion from this far off—Yunho, sit her up—and let me tell you, I don’t think it was just that saloon you were in that set on fire.”

San is easy at holding multiple conversations at once, easily talented in the art of juggling multiple thoughts swarming through his head. It was no wonder he still had a shred of sanity left. Everyone liked to tease him for thinking too much, all at once, but somehow he still was able to keep a head about him despite all the ideas he had.

Yunho does as San instructs, carefully sitting you up as San presses a cloth over your stab wound to ensure it doesn’t begin to bleed again from the movement. As you’re guided into a sitting position, you’re met with a flask practically in your face, right at the tip of your nose.

You groan. You hated alcohol.

“Time to drink away the pain. Gotta numb you up,” San gives an impish grin, knowing your dislike for the whiskey.

“Quack doctor,” Yunho mutters under his breath.

San wrinkles his nose at the other. “Hey, you’ll be saying that when I patch Rosette up here nice and good. You’re going to end up being grateful.”

“What I would have been grateful for is if you hadn’t let Hongjoong fall out of his damn saddle,” Yunho argues, “quack doctor!”

“I digress, Hongjoong chose to fall from his own saddle. I had absolutely nothing to do with that—”

“A doctor should have control over his patients!”

“How many times do I have to say I’m not even a real doctor?!” San wails, and you suddenly find a headache growing, not just for the fact that he’s literally crying in your ear—but also from their bickering. It’s something they do often, Jongho often joining them, as well. That was something that created an even bigger fiasco.

“And Hongjoong isn’t, nor was he ever, a real patient! He went to sleep after a concussion! Who does that?!”

“Who lets someone do that?” Yunho retorts.

“Okay I didn’t see you wake him up, either—”

“Wait… Hongjoong fell from his saddle? He has a concussion? What’s going on?” You’re dizzy, glancing back and forth between the two of them as they continue their squabble.

But instead of answering you, San decides at that moment, it’s perfect to drop the subject entirely. Yunho seems to be in some sort of silent agreement with him. San shakes the flask in front of your nose. “A story for another time, maybe later when you tell us the lengthened version of your own. Now, bottom’s up.”

You wrinkle your nose as he presses the flask to your mouth, though you have no choice but to part your lips and accept the whiskey. Grimacing, you close your eyes against the bitter taste. San doesn’t lower the flask, and so you’re forced to keep drinking it steadily until he seems satisfied you’ve had enough. When he tilts the flask away, you sputter and let out a cough.

It’s not instantaneous, but you can feel the aged whiskey slowly take hold of your body, a sort of vertigo beginning to build up at the forefront of your mind. You close your eyes against the sensation. “Gross,” you mutter, aware that now the back of your throat burns with the rest of your body.

“Necessary,” is San’s one word answer, as he nods to Yunho, who gently lays you back down. Before you’re completely settled, San is pressing something against your mouth again. Obliging, you part your lips, greeted by the taste of old leather. Your eyes shoot back open, and from the back of your throat you let out a complaint against the leather, lifting your hands to pry San’s away.

“You’d rather bite off your tongue?” San asks, holding the leather there firmly. Though it tastes disgusting—you have to admit to yourself that you would rather not do so. San doesn’t let go until you drop your hands, positive you’re going to concede. “I’m going to start stitching.”

You’re about to close your eyes again when Yunho is suddenly reaching forward, collecting your hands in his own.

“In case it hurts too much.” He gives your hands a small, reassuring squeeze.

“Make sure she doesn’t struggle or move,” San directs, adding to you, “please try and stay still, Rosette, even if it hurts.”

You give a curt nod, feeling your jaw tightening as your teeth clench against the leather. Just as the pinpoint of the needle touches your skin, you snap your eyes closed and find yourself squeezing Yunho’s hands. The needle slides along your skin in a smooth and effortless manner, San working quickly and efficiently. You know he’s trying his hardest to not make things worse for you, but you can’t help the whimper against the leather that escapes from you. If you were to look, you were sure you’d be gripping Yunho’s hands so hard that your knuckles were white.

From faraway, you hear Yunho begin to hum again, until his voice builds up into something a tad bit stronger, softly singing, “It was you, my shine light; true light, came with destiny…”

You focus on that soothing sound, beginning to doze off. Yunho’s singing with the vertigo swimming in your head is enough to keep you unfocused—jumping between different thoughts and feelings. The sensation of the needle and thread and San’s warm touch against your stomach, the burning fire that still lingers in your veins, back to the gentle touch of Wooyoung as he tended to your lip… wondering if Wooyoung was okay, and wishing he were here.

At some point, your body can’t handle fighting against the pain any longer. Yunho’s voice and the whiskey lull you to sleep, a more comfortable warmth settling over your body. The day had been much longer than you’d anticipated, taking a very large toll on your body and mind overall. Nothing had panned out the way you had anticipated, and at the back of your mind is a small worry about what Hongjoong will say about everything. He didn’t know about your connecting to Jean, yet a part of you was concerned he was somehow aware of the buildings in the town being prepped to go up in flame—that you knew exactly what you were doing when you’d knocked that lamp over.

There was also a worry over what Jean was going to say—or even do. Did this ruin her plans? Clearly they’d been thwarted, to an extent, since the three members you’d managed to get to the saloon were all alive and well. That also made you wonder, though, where the heck had Seonghwa gone? And why was the camp in such a state of array?

You felt guilty for being relieved that everyone that had gone to the saloon was alive and well, like you were betraying your best friend. Could you even call her that, any longer? Even with the history you shared?

At the very least, you’d gotten a name out of Monica. Mr. Kim. It narrowed absolutely nothing down, but maybe Wooyoung would be able to do something with that information. You wished you’d gone alone, like originally planned. If only you’d been the one to meet with Monica, and hadn’t dragged the guys along… maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe everyone would be alright.

You aren’t sure how long you sleep for, but the sound of voices drags you unwillingly back to consciousness and reality.

“They got caught, the both of them. They’re in a holding cell right now.” Immediately, a sense of further relief washes through you at the sound of Jongho’s voice.

“They didn’t get shot on the spot?” Yunho asks, surprised.

“Sheriff wants to do a public execution,” Yeosang’s quietly calm voice interjects into the conversation. They’re talking about Hongjoong and Wooyoung, you realize. “Everyone thinks they did it—set the town on fire.”

“But—” Mingi’s deep voice suddenly appears, seemingly out of nowhere.”

“There’s no ‘buts’ to it, Mingi. I know you don’t think it’s entirely fair. With their combined bounties? Honestly, what man with a clean name wouldn’t think they did it? It’s not exactly like the sheriff needs a cause for the crime, to kill them. We’re all outlaws here.”

When you blink your eyes open, you find yourself lying on your side. A blanket has been placed beneath you, along with one covered over you, and a pack laid beneath your head. You’re met with the sight of San’s beloved hunting hound, Shiber, lying next to you. When you stir, the dog lifts his head to sniff you, before plopping it right back down and returning to his own dozing. You reach out, resting a hand on Shiber’s side as your eyes adjust to the dark and the firelight.

The dog stirring again, this time at your touch, catches San’s attention.

“You’re awake?”

There’s a pounding in your head that makes you wish you weren’t awake, but you answer with a, “Yes, kind of. Waking up still.” The fog of what’s left of the whiskey in your system and the heaviness of the sudden sleep that had overtaken you make it a bit difficult to push past the grogginess you feel.

San’s suddenly there, hovering over you. Shiber moves out of the way, tail wagging as he stares at San with such dedication and compassion in his eyes. You kind of envy the love the dog has for the man.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hungover?” You offer with a small smile.

San chuckles, smiling enough that his cheeks dimple. He reaches forward, gently taking hold of your shoulders and guiding you to return to laying on your back. At your waist, he parts the shirt you’re wearing—you realize that it’s one of the guys’, a button-down that’s only half-buttoned, that probably belongs to Yunho since it seems to fit you so loosely and clings to your frame like a curtain rather than a shirt.

“It looks good. Bleeding has completely stopped, no signs of infection at the time,” San studies his work, “I made some poultice with some yarrow not long ago that I put to help stem the bleeding. Whiskey’s all we got for painkillers around here, so if you’re in any pain, you’re either going to have tough it out or drink up.”

You wrinkle your nose at the idea of drinking anything more, not a fan of the latter option. Toughing it out seems like the better of the two ideas, considering you seemed to have done a decent job of it earlier if you’d managed to stay on your feet through all the events that had gone down.

“Good news is I think the venom is mostly out of your system. Had quite a scare after you fell asleep, you started running a fever,” San explained, letting the material of the shirt fall back down over your exposed stomach. “For a moment I thought you’d caught an infection, but then I realized your body was seemingly sweating out the last of the venom.”

“How long have I been sleeping for?” You wonder, your voice cracking as you speak.

Instead of answering, San turns away from you for a moment to rummage through some items nearby. You glance around at what you can see without jostling yourself too much, aware that the guys seemed to have cleaned up most of the camp. San returns with a jar lid in his hand, and you squint at the thick syrup sitting on it. He reaches forward, slipping a hand behind your back. You brace yourself, helping him assist you into a sitting position.

“Take some honey for your throat, I don’t know how much smoke you inhaled,” he instructs, handing you the jar lid.

You stare at it. There were plenty of cooking utensils around this camp, and this was how he served honey to you? Lifting your eyes, you narrow them into judgmental slits aimed straight towards him.

“We’ve all shared germs here before, but we haven’t shared germs with the ground. I wasn’t about to wash some dirty dishes just so you could have a spoonful of honey. Take it.”

You supposed that made sense, considering the camp had been ransacked earlier. Sighing, you do as he commands and swallow down the sweet fluid. Immediately, it soothes your parched throat.

“Well?” You ask after testing your throat out, satisfied that it doesn’t feel as itchy when you swallow. You hand the lid back to San.

“Long enough,” Yunho answers from over San’s shoulder. You shift your seated position to turn toward the fire, to the rest of the group—Yunho, Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang were all present.

Mingi gives you a small smile, it being the first you two have seen of each other in a while. You return it, though you have to admit that seeing the latter two’s faces eases some pent up tension you hadn’t been aware you’d been holding onto. They looked worn, hair ruffled and some smudges on their face, presumably from their escape from the fire. They seemed unscathed, though.

Yunho adds, “We’re about three hours off from midnight.”

You’d been in a daze of pain, brain addled by smoke, but you briefly remembered Hongjoong’s words. “Didn’t Hongjoong say—” Before you finish the thought, Yunho nods grimly.

“That’s not going to happen,” Jongho speaks up with a sigh. “Sheriff caught them, presumably not long after you and Yunho rode off. Yeosang and I got out of that fire pretty easily, but we stuck around the outskirts of the town—helped put some of the fires out as best as we could without getting caught ourselves, but I drank too much to really do anything worthwhile. We were waiting for you and Wooyoung. He insisted on returning for you.”

“When neither of you met up with us where Wooyoung told us to wait, we assumed the worst, so we went back into the town to take a look around. Everything’s a mess at the moment and the townspeople are pissed. That’s when we got word that Hongjoong and Wooyoung were being held at the jail,” Yeosang supplies.

Jongho nodded. “We went to check it out, just to be sure—y’know how people can talk, sometimes, especially in a small town. But sure enough they were both there. When we saw Wooyoung, we realized he must have gotten you out. We rode back here, figuring this is where you’d return to since it’s the next safest spot.”

“And that’s where we’re at now, after they kind of filled us in on what happened to you and after I came back from scouting the area,” Mingi speaks up now, a frown on his face. “Trying to figure out why Seonghwa is missing, why the camp was ransacked and who was looking for what, and what to do about Boss and Wooyoung.”

You glance around the fire at each of their faces. None of them seem particularly tired, but there’s a mental exhaustion that lingers on their faces. They’d probably been discussing this for hours, you assumed, while you’d slept off what you’d went through.

“Ideally, we have until dawn to make a decision.” You glance over in surprise at Yeosang as he offers up this information. “Public executions aren’t done until noon.”

“That’s not safe!” You protest, to everyone’s surprise. They all glance at you. “Waiting that long to make a decision is really pushing it. What if they decide to do the execution earlier? If the town thinks that Wooyoung and Hongjoong did this, then now they’ve got a bounty for arson added to their heads. If everyone is as angry as Yeosang says, then that means they’re riled up enough to take action sooner rather than later.”

Yeosang purses his lips, frowning, and turning his blue gaze toward the fire in thought.

Yunho sighs. “She’s right. It’s risky.”

“Going back into town is risky, too,” Jongho muttered from where he sat next to him.

San, who had been quiet for most of this time, speaks up. “But when haven’t we been willing to take risks?” He quirks a brow as he asks this, as though it’s the most obvious question in the world. Which, in reality—it is. “Not only that, but working in the cover of the night is better for us. Things could get messier, in more ways than one, if we wait until morning to take care of this.”

“Can I help?” You ask, glancing at San. Since he was the doctor, and your care provider currently, you figured the decision fell onto him. Not that you were about to take no for an answer.

But before he does have a chance to answer, Yunho cuts in, “No, absolutely not!”

Your head snaps toward Yunho, a glare and a frown on your face. “Why not? If I did all the work I did earlier with the stab wound open and bleeding—yet made it out fine, then why can’t I do this with the stab wound stitched closed? Plus, I’m a woman! If you need into the jail, it’ll be easiest for me.”

You turn back towards San then, raising your eyebrows at him, prompting him.

San clears his throat, giving a small one-shouldered shrug. “Well, she’s not exactly wrong…”

“Quack doctor,” Yunho growls from across the fire.

San turns toward Yunho this time, wrinkling his nose at the other. “If you keep saying that, I may fall under the impression you’ve swallowed a duck.”

Ignoring their squabbling, yet again, you turn towards Mingi. “What do you say?”

There’s already a look of concentration written across Mingi’s face. When you direct your question toward him, he glances up, pulling himself out of his thoughts. With Hongjoong gone, and Seonghwa missing—leadership fell to the next in line. Mingi was one of the three founders, one of the two co-founders, to the ATEEZ gang. That left him in charge for now. It seemed to be something he was aware of, since he’d already been deep in thought.

Everyone turns their attention to Mingi, then.

“Alright. This is what we’re going to do.” He pushes himself to his feet, “Rosette can help—”

A complaint from Yunho sounds, and Mingi glances at him, but otherwise ignores it.

“San, you’re going to accompany her, for the most part. Make sure her wound doesn’t open on the ride back in. One we get to town, it’s on you, Rosette. You’ll infiltrate the jail like you’ve suggested,” as Mingi speaks, his eyes scan and rest upon everyone surrounding the fire, even yourself.

You’re part of the team, you realize.

Have you ever actually felt uncomfortable with us? Seonghwa’s words ring in the back of your mind.

You always have been a part of their team.

“Yeosang, stay behind in case Seonghwa returns. Everyone else, saddle up. We’re leaving in the next twenty minutes. I want everyone alert and on watch. When Rosette goes into the jail, we’re her backup if anything happens. San, you stay closest to her without revealing yourself.” Mingi pauses briefly, glancing once more around the fire, “Everyone ready?”

[talesofthebnha-marvel]

Tales from Peter Parker Foreign Exchange Student: Scorpion and the hunt for the Hero killer

Somewhere in the Naruhata district, in one of the many condemned buildings in the area is currently being resided by the infamous villain team, the Sinister Six!

A group consisting entirely of Spider-mans rogues formed under an always-consistent even number. Though its members have rotated there burning hatred of the arachnid hero remains the same. Mysterio, Chameleon, Shocker, Sandman, Scorpion and Vulture are the current members of the group. Currently they are residing in the land of the Rising Sun as a favor to Mysterio involving an as yet unspecified plot for lucrative gain. Yet unbeknownst to the Sinister Six, Spider-man is also stationed in Japan as a student of U.A. High. Eventual a collision of rivals will occur, for now the members of the Six explore there new surrounding some partaking in extracurricularactivities.

Mac Gargan, alias the Scorpion looking is over a large board. On it is pinned with various newspapers and several threads crisscrossing each other like a web.

"Scorpion!" The vulture shouted from above as he descends besides Scorpion.

"What do you want Toomes?" Scorpion asked annoyed having his concentration broken.

Vulture sneered at Gargans dismissive tone.

"Our meeting with the local crime informant, Giran has been rescheduled for now Dmitri suggest we should acclimate to our new surrounding." Impatient to a response, the Vulture makes a quick turn around to see Scorpion still ignoring him.

"The least you could do Mac is make some conversation, what on earth are you researching 'Hero Killer'" Vulture scans the papers.

"Yeah its about this crazy who's been going around offing heroes or injuring them bad towards early retirement." Scorpion explained turning towards Vulture finally.

"And what offer him membership Macdonald, were already at max capacity of sociopaths with you in our group we don't need another one." Vulture mocked.

"Very funny jack-ass, but this ain't about recruitment."

"Than what exactly?"

"The WHY?" Scorpion responded to Vulture.

Vulture seemed perplexed but he reminds himself that Scorpions logic always made sense to his twisted mind.

"Every article is always the same, always asking the wrong questions." He continues.

"Who is he? How is he doing this? When will the Pro heroes stop him, (spit)." Scorpion mocked.

"No one ever asks the 'why' of his motives that's the real story the real scoop." He grins.

"Imoressive, if a bit pointless but he's a serial killer Gargan not much to glean from that. Said Vulture.

"These ain't no random killing Toomes this guy clearly has a conviction and its kinda bringing the detective side out of me, THERE!" he motions his tail on the map as he walks past Toomes grabbing his coat and hat.

Toomes looks at the city map Scorpions tail banged on the board as he sees the mark on the city, Niihama.

Its soon night in the city of Niihama, with Scorpion staking out on rooftop. Several food wrappers and soda cups are littered around him as he peers across the landscape with his binoculars. On his left a crude yet working customized police radio is broadcasting your standard police reports, all noise to his ears waiting purely for calls towards Pro heroes.

"Hrrm, what was it that Kraven always said 'to become the hunter you must think like your prey.' Scorpion recalled internally.

"This should be the place that 'Hero Killer' was last scene and knowing these 'heroes'. Scorpion said with a venomous tone at that last word.

"Them Pros will be rushing off during a crisis, I just need wait for one them to wander off into a dark alleyway and that's when Mr. Herokiller will strike."

Eventual a hero team burst into the scene as they begin a rescue operation by a nearby burning building. One of the heroes note something in an alleyway as she ventures alone.

"Bingo" Scorpion said elated.

Sometime later

Limping and bleeding out, the female hero costumed in a beetle inspired design finds herself exasperated and panic as the Hero Killer approaches. Garbed in an attire of a ninja, with mixture of red and black while his face is covered in several bandanas no doubt to reel in his unruly hair. He slowly moves in a katana in hand as he licks the blood from blade. The heroe's movements are quickly frozen in place unable to move desperately crying to herself

"Why can't I move?!" She screamed hoping her panic tears would be heard.

As she finds herself face first to the ground she can see the killer ready to thrust the blade until…

"HEY!" shouted the Scorpion across the alley as Stain looked up to see the yeller.

Reacting without thought, Stain quickly throws one of his daggers with almost lighting speed. However the Scorpion quickly counters with his mechanical tail sending the blade back as it pass his owners face right by the side of the wall. Unfazed, Stain held his ground staring at this stranger.

"Oh thank you hero please save me fro-"

"Shut up, I ain't here to save nobody especially some Beetle poser." Scorpion insulted as he cut her off using his tail to knock her out.

"I came to see you ' Hero Killer!'

"My business is not with you villain, leave me to my work or I share her fate." The killer threaten.

"Oh I ain't here to stop ya pally, I'm just a simple foreigner is all, I just got ask ya something is all." Scorpion explained.

The Hero Killer saw no ill intents from this stranger yet he could feel his aura of treachery and insanity lurking behind that false sense of camaraderie. For now he played along in order to gauge this new face.

"Very well foreigner, I am Stain ask your question and leave me to my mission."

Scorpion was a bit taken back by this 'Stain' character and pissed off. How dare he makes threats to me, Scorpion thought. But he remembers to keep his cool, he's Mac Gargan the detective first and Scorpion second on this case.

"Okay Stain, the names Scorpion." He introduced.

"I've been looking ya over for some time now trying to figure your M.O. all them heroes you killed or injured no relations what so ever. Yet one thing is common there all heroes. Its clearly not about the money, no real motive for payback and clearly puck and choose who lives and dies." Scorpion explained trying to inflate his ego as a detective.

"GET TO THE POINT!" Stain grew impatient.

Scorpion frowned holding back his gritted teeth from showing from Stains yelling.

"I was getting to that 'friend'." Said Scorpion losing his demeanor.

"Why? What are trying to accomplish offing off these loser heroes?" Scorpion asked in a serious tone.

Stain smiled a cold smile as he sheathed his sword.

"You are correct, I seek no monetary gain nor have these so called 'heroes' wronged me in the past." Stain confirmed Scorpions deduction.

"I seek out the false heroes that solely use there powers for wealth and fame, putting the needs of the people second for there own ambitions while ignoring there obligations as public servants first." Stain explains.

"Its an insult that they call themselves heroes, I have made it my mission to cleanse this world of false heroes, I will never stop for only All Might is worthy of the title hero! Only his sense of justice will I allow to bring about my defeat!" Stain continues as he slowly ramps up his rant.

"Does that answer your curiosity?"

Scorpion felt a bit taken back by the hero killer almost as if Stains aura swallowed him whole, trying to hold his ground Mac composes himself taking a quick breath to ease his nerves.

"And people say I'm crazy." Scorpion mocked.

Stain narrowed his eyes at Scorpion, annoyed by his flippant tone.

"Listen I hate these wannabe heroes as much as the next guy, but at the end of the day no chump can just live off good will and samaritan service."

"People gotta eat, pay taxes and all that other bureaucratic crap we can't all live up to that high horse ideal of the perfect hero crap, so you can stick your bull% $# college thesis up your $$ pally loser!" Scorpions retorted.

"Thanks for wasting my time." Scorpion walks away as he turns his back spitting at a trash can in a disrespectful manner as he makes a leap to the neareat fire escape ladder.

"Come back please, DON'T LEAVE ME!" The pro hero awakens begging for Scorpions help.

"F $# OFF LOSER!" Scorpion continues move on unmoved by the heroes cries.

"Foreigner villain, what does he know of our way in the end they will all learn." As he prepares to lunge his blade, Stain halts his action as he hears the voices of the oncoming team members of his victim closing in. Disappearing without trace he says to himself.

"Another time a different place, perhaps I'll visit Hosu."

Back at the rundown apartment, an enraged Scorpion storms the front entrance annoyed and pissed off.

"So how did it go?" Vulture said with a dry uninteresting tone.

"Pretentious looking ninja turtle with f #$ing delusions of grandeur!" Scorpion replied with a pissed off attitude.

"Sounds lame, you kick his ass?" Sandman asked.

"No"

"You steal his wallet?" Asked Shocker concerned.

"No!" Scorpion said again.

"So in other words a complete waste of time and effort, I'll be needing a receipt for your purchases." Chameleon prioritizing his funds.

"F $# off you losers, it wasn't all total loss." Scorpion grinned.

"Oh so their was a silver lining to this wasted ordeal of yours than?" Mysterio echoed behind his dome.

"People always underestimated me thinking I'm just some joke like you dorks, (except you Sandman.)" Sandman responds with a middle finger.

"But this event just reminded me, I'm still a damn good detective!" Scorpion unveils several headshot photos of different pro heroes.

"I've got a lot of dirty secrets to expose on these "so called heroes" and what better practice is there than in Japan!" Scorpion said ecstatically.

—–

Based on Tumblr @alexdrawsagain comic

Peter parker: foreign exchange student

[sleepwalker-in-me]

Silver and Dancer

Dany and Bran book parallels - part 6

1) Coloring of Dany’s Silver and Bran’s Summer are described similarly. 

Bran's Summer came last. He was silver and smoke, with eyes of yellow gold that saw all there was to see. ( A Game of Thrones - Bran IV)

She was grey as the winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke. ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys II)

2) Naming their horses.

It is interesting that their horses names are derived from phrase Drogo and Tyrion say about them. Drogo says it in relation to Dany’s hair and Tyrion says it in relation to Bran’s legs.

He touched her neck lightly, and the small chestnut filly started forward. Bran had named her Dancer. ( A Game of Thrones - Bran V)

"You're asking a lame man to teach a cripple how to dance," Tyrion said. "However sincere the lesson, the result is likely to be grotesque. Still, I know what it is to love a brother, Lord Snow. I will give Bran whatever small help is in my power." ( A Game of Thrones - Tyrion III)

Hesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse's neck, ran her fingers through the silver of her mane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. "Silver for the silver of your hair, the khal says." ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys II)

3) Learning to ride their horses.

Dancer is specially trained for Bran according to specifications given by Tyrion while Silver is a gift from Drogo. Both horses movements are described as smooth and silk like. Dany and Bran fell like they are flying when galloping. They also becomes more confident with their riding abilities as they become attached to their horses. Joseth and Irri are assigned to teach them to ride , but their horses have a natural connection that makes it easier.

She was two years old, and Joseth said she was smarter than any horse had a right to be. They had trained her special, to respond to rein and voice and touch. Up to now, Bran had only ridden her around the yard. At first Joseth or Hodor would lead her, while Bran sat strapped to her back in the oversize saddle the Imp had drawn up for him, but for the past fortnight he had been riding her on his own, trotting her round and round, and growing bolder with every circuit. ..Bran's cloak billowed out, rippling in the wind, and the snow seemed to rush at his face. Robb was well ahead, glancing back over his shoulder from time to time to make sure Bran and the others were following. He snapped the reins again. Smooth as silk, Dancer slid into a gallop. The distance closed. By the time he caught Robb on the edge of the wolfswood, two miles beyond the winter town, they had left the others well behind. "I can ride!" Bran shouted, grinning. It felt almost as good as flying. ( A Game of Thrones - Bran V)

She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees. ...The silver-grey filly moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd parted for her, every eye upon them. Dany found herself moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it was exciting rather than terrifying. The horse broke into a trot, and she smiled. Dothraki scrambled to clear a path. The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. She sent it into a gallop, and now the Dothraki were hooting and laughing and shouting at her as they jumped out of her way. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. They were hemmed in on either side, with no room to stop. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys II)    

The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher.  ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III)

4) Hailed by people.

Both their horses are hesitant to step into the crowd but their owners urge them on. Bran recognizes that people are really applauding his family and he feels proud about that. Dany is being applauded for her own merit and she embraces her people as her children. 

The low stone steps balked Dancer only for a moment. When Bran urged her on, she took them easily. Beyond the wide oak-and-iron doors, eight long rows of trestle tables filled Winterfell's Great Hall, four on each side of the center aisle. Men crowded shoulder to shoulder on the benches. "Stark!" they called as Bran trotted past, rising to their feet. "Winterfell! Winterfell!"He was old enough to know that it was not truly him they shouted for—it was the harvest they cheered, it was Robb and his victories, it was his lord father and his grandfather and all the Starks going back eight thousand years. Still, it made him swell with pride.( A Clash of Kings - Bran III)  

"Mhysa!" they called. "Mhysa! MHYSA!" They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. "Maela," some called her, while others cried "Aelalla" or "Qathei" or "Tato," but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother.The chant grew, spread, swelled. It swelled so loud that it frightened her horse, and the mare backed and shook her head and lashed her silver-grey tail. It swelled until it seemed to shake the yellow walls of Yunkai. More slaves were streaming from the gates every moment, and as they came they took up the call. They were running toward her now, pushing, stumbling, wanting to touch her hand, to stroke her horse's mane, to kiss her feet. Her poor bloodriders could not keep them all away, and even Strong Belwas grunted and growled in dismay.Ser Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. "They will not hurt me," she told him. "They are my children, Jorah." She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. "Mother," they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. "Mother," they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. "Mother, Mother, Mother!"( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV)  

[drjeandoddspethealthresource]

Valley Fever on the Rise

The Basics

Valley Fever (also known as coccidioidomycosis) is caused by the fungi Coccidioides immitis and posadasii.

Coccidioides spp. lives in the soil in predominately semi-arid climates such as Southwestern United States, Southeastern Washington State, Central and South America.

When the soil is disturbed, the fungus can break apart and its spores become airborne. When inhaled, Coccidioides spp. can cause Valley Fever in people and animals. It is especially dangerous and can be fatal when infection occurs during pregnancy.

Rare transmission can occur from an organ transplant, if the organ donor had Valley Fever; inhaling spores from a wound infected with Coccidioides spp., and even contact with objects (such as rocks or shoes) that have been contaminated with Coccidioides spp..

While many animals like cats and horses are susceptible to Valley Fever, the disease particularly affects dogs.

Early symptoms of Valley Fever in dogs: coughing, fever, rashes on skin and extremities, weight loss, lack of appetite and reduced energy.

Can develop into pneumonia.

Disseminated Valley Fever symptoms: lameness or swelling of limbs, back or neck pain (with or without weakness/paralysis), seizures and other manifestations of brain swelling, soft abscess-like swelling under the skin, swollen lymph nodes, non-healing skin wounds that ooze fluid, eye inflammation with pain or cloudiness, unexpected heart failure in a young dog, swollen testicles.

Treatment for dogs involves prescribed antifungal medications for 6-12 months. Dogs with disseminated Valley Fever usually require longer courses of medication. If the central nervous system is affected, lifetime treatment with medication is typically needed to keep symptoms from recurring.

The Big Picture

Let’s step back a second and look at Southeastern Washington state, as Valley Fever was only recently discovered in this regional outlier. The distance from pretty much the center of Valley Fever’s highly endemic area, Maricopa County, Arizona, to Walla Walla County, Washington is almost 1,300 miles. Even if we map from suspected endemic Esmerelda County in Nevada to Walla Walla County, the distance is over 750 miles.

How did the Coccidioides spp. fungus get to Washington state?

Dr. Jack Rogers, a mycology professor emeritus at Washington State University, speculates, “Changing weather conditions, population sprawl that disrupts the soil and a possible rodent host moving northward in search of habitat could explain Cocci’s presence in Washington.” Tom Chiller, an expert from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), would agree that population sprawl leading to soil disruption is probably the case, but that theory supports his contention that Coccidioides spp. has always been there. The scary thing is: we really don’t know how Coccidioides spp. got there or if it was already there.

While experts debate whether Coccidioides spp. is spreading or intrinsic to an area, experts and the CDC postulate – almost affirmatively – that the ongoing dramatic changes in climate are causing more cases of Valley Fever in humans and dogs. The CDC states:

“Coccidioides spp. is thought to grow best in soil after heavy rainfall and then disperse into the air most effectively during hot, dry conditions. For example, hot and dry weather conditions have been shown to correlate with an increase in the number of Valley Fever cases in Arizona and in California. The ways in which climate change may be affecting the number of Valley Fever infections, as well as the geographic range of Coccidioides spp., isn’t known yet, but is a subject for further research.

Although most cases of Valley Fever are not associated with outbreaks, Valley Fever outbreaks linked to a common source do occasionally occur, particularly after events that disturb large amounts of soil. Past outbreaks have occurred in military trainees, archeological workers, solar farm workers, and in people exposed to earthquakes and dust storms.“

Climate change deniers may state that severe weather changes are not directly correlated to the increased diagnosis of Valley Fever, but rather it’s the increased awareness on the part of physicians and veterinarians to test for the disease. We do not disagree that awareness is a vital component for proper diagnosis, but do believe weather is also a crucial and vital component.

Yet, beyond weather and awareness, what else could be causing a difference between infection and illness?

We have written extensively about how two dogs could be in the same environment and exposed to the same conditions, but one contracts something and the other does not. In terms of Valley Fever, the University of Arizona Valley Fever Center of Excellence (VFCE) conducted a study in 2005. Their results affirm this scenario.

Incidence of Infection Study in Dogs

VFCE enrolled dogs from veterinary practices in Pima and Maricopa counties in Arizona. The researchers’ analysis demonstrated that dogs raised from birth in these Arizona counties have a 28% chance of being infected with the Coccidioides spp. fungi by two years of age. The probability of infection is 11% in the first year of life and 17% in the second year of life.

Dogs raised from birth in Pima or Maricopa county have a 6% probability of becoming sick with Valley Fever by 2 years of age: 2% in the first year and 4% in the second year.

From these results, the researchers estimate that about 4% of dogs will become sick with Valley Fever on an annual basis.

70% (42/60) of the dogs in this study had positive tests but were not sick from the infection. While the researchers believe that most of these subclinically infected dogs go on to become permanently immune, they would have liked to follow the blood test positive, healthy dogs for several more years to determine if the infection would flare into illness in the future.

In terms of humans, the CDC states that anyone at any age is at risk, but that common at-risk human populations are 60 years and older. Importantly, pregnant women, people with diabetes, and people with weakened immune systems are at higher risk of developing severe forms of Valley Fever.  

Additionally, we do know that people who work outside in professions such as construction or agriculture are at higher risk. But, is this population at higher risk due to the density of fungal dust, exposure in terms of length of time, weakened immune systems. or all of the above? We just do not know.  

For dogs, the VFCE is conducting very important research regarding the immune response to Valley Fever as well as in developing a vaccine.

Yet, could something else besides, or along with, the immune system be contributing to the seemingly randomized rate of Valley Fever illness in dogs?

A different research study, the Canine Valley Fever Project (CVFP), hypothesizes that epigenetics is also involved with the development, progression and severity of Valley Fever infections in pets and people.

The simplest definition of epigenetics is "on top of" genetics. It refers to external modifications to DNA that turn genes "on" or "off." These modifications do not change the DNA sequence, but affect gene expression. So, environment, exercise, food, etc. all influence gene expression, which could trigger illness or suppress it.    

The formal study objectives of the CVFP study are:

To evaluate a dog's breed, nutrition, health, environment, symptoms and disease resistance as compared with serology and hematology test results.

To better assess the number of dogs that are healthy but considered exposed to the Cocci organism or asymptomatic.

To obtain more accurate data on titers as compared to the severity of infection.

To stage and better formalize the standard of care across the board.

To provide faster and more efficient diagnosis of Valley Fever.

To study disease reduction as compared with drug protocols, diet and other lifestyle factors.

To increase awareness in pet owners and reduce misdiagnosis in the veterinary community.

To develop a registry and teaching tool to better serve both.

CVFP is actively looking for voluntary participants from around the United States. Even if your dog has never been to an endemic state, the information will help provide a baseline. Pet caregivers will need to complete a detailed questionnaire throughout the duration of the study. This questionnaire will help determine numerous significant and correlating factors regarding disease manifestation and management.

As an incentive and reward for participation, pet owners that enroll will be able to purchase discounted Valley Fever testing at http://www.caninevalleyfeverproject.com.

W. Jean Dodds, DVM Hemopet / NutriScan 11561 Salinaz Avenue Garden Grove, CA 92843

References

“Canine Valley Fever Project.” Canine Valley Fever Project, http://www.caninevalleyfeverproject.com/.

Coccidioides. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 22 May 2017, http://www.cdc.gov/fungal/diseases/coccidioidomycosis/index.html.

“Valley Fever in Dogs.” University of Arizona Valley Fever Center for Excellence, http://www.vfce.arizona.edu/valley-fever-dogs.

Weiford, Linda. “Illness-Causing Fungus Spreads to Washington State.” WSU Insider, Washington State University, 5 May 2014, http://www.news.wsu.edu/2014/05/05/illness-causing-fungus-spreads-to-washington-state/.

[icewraiths]

I wrote a thing about how Drusi ended up with her Jorvik Warmblood. .-.

(This takes place in the same AU with Ren and the kelpie, albeit earlier in the timeline. The events here happen about a year prior to Encounter.)

Drusi made her way out to the Moorland paddocks, fetching Firewind from his pasture. Leading him back to the yard, she groomed him, tacked him up, and retrieved her helmet. She had been tasked with exercising him for the day--apparently, his owner, Julie, couldn't be arsed to work with her own horse. Not when she had her father's money to spend at the mall, that was.

Firewind seemed to be in fine mettle. He was nearly prancing in place as Drusi led him out to the riding arena. She noticed another of the Bobcat girls--Stephanie, she surmised--already longeing a dark chestnut horse at one end of the arena. It was "In the Spirit of Danger", or just "Danger", as he was known around the yard. Everyone at Moorland Stables knew him as that one horse; he was extremely talented, but unfortunately also a complete shithead. Drusi hadn't been allowed to work with him yet. He was notoriously difficult to ride, but he could perform well if given strict directions. The lass could only guess that that was the reason Thomas Moorland bothered keeping the stallion around--he placed well in competitions, if only under particular circumstances.

Drusi intended to longe Firewind at the opposite end of the arena, well out of Stephanie and Danger's way. She noticed that the other girl was having trouble. Danger was tossing his head, nearly yanking the line out of the other girl's hands. Steph had her heels dug into the dirt, fighting with him and trying to get him back into a reasonably working frame.

Drusi decided it wasn't her problem if the other horse was acting up. She let herself and Firewind into the arena, closing the gate behind them. She retrieved the extra longe line and clipped it to the outside ring of Firewind's bit before sending him out at a trot on a twenty metre circle.  

After a few minutes, Drusi paused and called Firewind back to her so she could change the clip on the bit and switch directions. As she did so, she realized the situation with Danger and Stephanie had escalated. The stallion was cantering sidelong towards their corner of the arena. His eyes were rolling, and he was nearly dragging poor Steph off her feet.

Drusi hesitated, leading Firewind towards the opposite rail and out of the way.

"Need any help over there?" She queried. Just barely, she heard Steph curse under her breath.

"Um, I don't think you're allow-" Stephanie started to answer, but the stallion cut her off with another hard tug on the line. Drusi looked on in a quiet sort of amusement; Steph was going to be feeling that one in her shoulders tomorrow. "You know what? Yeah. I'll trade you. I'll take Firewind, you deal with this. I don't care anymore."

Drusi left Firewind standing quietly in the opposing corner of the arena, and then sidled past Danger into the longeing circle with Steph. The exhausted, pink-clad blonde practically threw the longe line and whip at Drusi before storming away towards Julie's much better behaved horse.

Once the line was securely in her grasp, Drusi snapped it to grab the stallion's attention. Fortunately, Steph had set him up in a halter for longeing, which meant that she wouldn't have to worry about changing the clip every time they switched directions.

Danger didn't care for any kind of opposition; he laced his ears back and winged a cow-kick in Drusi's direction.

"Hey! Knock that off!" Drusi snarled at him, flicking the whip after his hocks so that it popped audibly just behind him. The stallion started away from the sound, unaccustomed to being held accountable for his actions.

He was precisely the kind of horse that used to terrify Drusi as a little girl--reactive, challenging of authority, and overall difficult. She knew better now, though. Years of lessons and training and stablework had given her a fairly solid backbone.

She feinted towards the stallion's hindquarters, whip in hand, then backpedaled quickly without turning her back to him. Danger was caught off guard by this--exactly as Drusi predicted he would be--and he turned to face her, coming to a complete stop with his ears pricked forward.

The stallion snorted loudly, adrenaline quickening his breath.

Drusi waited. She wished she knew this horse's tells. It would make this process go much more quickly, but she could improvise if need be.  

Danger grew bored of standing and waiting for Drusi to move, so he pinned his ears and tried to take off at a canter again. The girl followed, holding firm to the line and stalking after him in an arc like a predator on the hunt. She kept her eyes on his flank, and she held her whip pointed towards his haunch as well. The tension on the longe line combined with the pressure she was putting on the stallion's hindquarters with her stare and her whip and her posture forced Danger into a tighter circle. She chased him until his hind legs crossed and he was forced to stop, facing her again. She immediately stood upright, turning the whip away and releasing the "pressure" she'd been keeping on his hind end.

The stallion snorted again, but this time, he lowered his head and stretched his muzzle towards Drusi.

Good.

The lass loosened her hold on the line a little.

"Are you ready to pay attention yet, or do we have to keep playing your stupid little games?" Her eyes met his. She grinned, keeping her stance solid and sure. "I can do this all day, pal. Try me." The stallion's posture relaxed, just slightly, and the hard line of his mouth softened. Perhaps he'd seen something in her gaze, or heard something in the tone of her voice, but the horse seemed to realize that Drusi was not one he should waste his time arguing with.  

Danger licked his lips, sighing.

"Nice job. Now, trot." Drusi stepped back, using the angle of the whip to drive the horse out on the circle at a working trot. Danger obeyed, trotting along with a slight spring in his step.

She exercised him at a walk, trot, and canter in both directions for no more than ten minutes; if the horse was listening, she'd take what she could get and quit while she was ahead. She cooled Danger out at a walk before asking him to stop.  

Drusi approached the black chestnut stallion. He was properly tired now, and his neck was darkened with sweat. She reached out to pat him on the shoulder--his hide was sleek and almost glassy. It seemed as though some great unnatural heat roiled just beneath the surface of his skin. The lass moved her hand to the horse's neck, to his back, and to his legs. The odd heat was everywhere, causing her to worry he might be ill.

Puzzled, she turned back towards the stallion's face. He was watching her, his eyes a deep firey amber. He blinked slowly. Something about his expression was distressingly familiar, though Drusi could not place how.

"Hey," Stephanie called from across the arena. "I don't know how you got him to behave, but good going. I'm done longeing Firewind, is it okay if I ride him now?"

Drusi had forgotten that Stephanie and Firewind and Moorland had even existed.

"Yep, you are good to go. By the way, is Danger sick? He feels warm to me."

"I'm sure he's fine," Steph replied, pulling down the stirrups on Firewind's saddle before mounting up. "You can ask someone to check him over back at the yard if you're worried."

Drusi decided she would do just that. She led the stallion back to the yard, and thankfully, he did not put up any sort of a fuss. She passed her friend, Renata, just as she was about to return Danger to his stall. Ren was apparently on mucking duty that afternoon; the girl was just finishing up with shoveling fresh shavings into the last of the stripped boxes. The pale-haired girl appraised Drusi with a small amount of admiration as she led the stallion into his stall.

"They let you work with Danger? You're brave." Renata paused from her work, leaning on the handle of her shovel. If Drusi hadn't known her better, she might have mistaken Ren's tone as scoffing.

"Not exactly," Drusi said, sliding the halter off over the stallion's ears. "Steph was having trouble with him, so I offered to help. I made sure he listened to me."

"I'll say. Power to you. I don't even like having to turn that one out, he tries to run me over every damn time."

"He assumes he is in charge by default. You have to tell him otherwise." Drusi looped the lead back around Danger's neck, so he couldn't move away from her in the stall. "Would you mind coming in here for a second? He feels off to me. He doesn't seem lame, but his legs are hot, and that's usually not a good sign."

Ren's brows knitted together in concern.

"That... doesn't sound so great. I'll come look him over. You have a good hold on him, right? I don't want him trying to kick me, or anything."

"He's not going anywhere," Drusi replied.

Renata let herself into Danger's stall. The stallion shuffled a bit as she did so, but Drusi tightened her hold on the lead to remind him to stand still. Ren eyed the stallion warily, but reached down to feel his near-side foreleg for heat or swelling. When the pale-haired girl stood upright again, she opened her mouth as though to comment on something, but she stopped mid-breath and her expression blanched.

"What is the matter?" Drusi pressed. "Is something wrong?"

Ren seemed to fumble a bit, taking a moment to find her voice. She definently lived up to her reputation as one of the weirder girls in Moorland's JEI summer program. Drusi was one of the few who had the patience to tolerate her quirks, and she had even stood up for the girl a few times when the Bobcats and their ilk had started gossiping about her.

"Sorry," Renata said, finally. "He doesn't seem warm or lame to me, but there is something definitely off about him. I'll go get Jenna." With that, she darted out of the stall, disappearing from view before Drusi could ask her what she meant.

As promised, Ren returned with Jenna moments later. Jenna was no vet, but she'd been working at the yard long enough to know the tells of equine illness or colic.

Danger's legs were inspected, as well as his hooves, pulse rate, gut sounds, and temperature. Jenna found nothing unusual about him.

"This fellow seems perfectly all right to me," Jenna told them. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, though. I'll keep an eye on Danger tonight when I'm doing the last bit of chores around the yard." She patted Drusi on the shoulder, thanking her again before departing.

Drusi pressed her hand to Danger's shoulder again. The warmth was still there, as though some unbound energy was coiling within him. She left the stallion's stall, where Renata was waiting for her.

"Am I losing my mind?" Drusi asked. "I saw his temperature reading for myself, and Jenna even showed me how to listen to his heartbeat and gut sounds with the stethoscope. Everything checked out as normal. But he still feels off to me if I lay hands on him at all."

Renata had her arms crossed; her expression indicated she was very deeply lost in thought. Without looking Drusi in the eye, she responded.

"You aren't losing your mind. Jenna may be right, though. Danger's probably fine. However," Ren paused, glancing up to look at her friend. "I think you should ask Thomas to assign him to you as your horse for the rest of the summer. I know that you and Whisper make a good team, but... I don't know. Just ask. I think you would be good for him. I think he might be good for you, too."

Drusi looked at her doubtfully, taken aback by Ren's suggestion entirely. The pale-haired girl was usually cautious and more than a little bit timid. To tell Drusi to do something about her assigned horse--in no uncertain terms, at that--was uncharacteristically upfront for her.

"What makes you say that?"

Renata was quiet for several beats.

"I... I have a good feeling about it, I suppose. That's all I can say." She shrugged, her gray eyes distant.

Drusi sighed, sinking her shoulders a little. Quirky as she may be, Ren was still her friend, and there was little harm in trusting her on this.

"You are right, it probably won't hurt to ask Thomas to make a slight change to the summer roster. Worst that can happen is that he says no, and even then, it's only my pride that would be getting bruised."

Ren nodded.

"Exactly. Well, I've got to go finish readying the boxes. I still have to make sure all the water buckets are topped off." With that, Renata turned on her heel and disappeared into a stall at the far end of the yard.

Drusi turned back towards Danger's stall. She leaned over the doorway, resting her elbows against the cracked and peeling paintwork on the frame. The stallion looked over at her, his eyes glinting from the shadows of the stall.

"What do you think about all of this, hm? Would you be willing to work with me as a team?"

Danger huffed in response, blowing dust particles from the fresh shavings all about the box.

"That's what I thought. I guess we will just have to wait and see." Drusi gave him one last look, rapping her fingers on the edge of his stall door twice in parting. "Have a good evening, fella."

The lass made her way over to the main office at the Moorland yard, gathering her courage and bracing herself before opening the door. Thomas Moorland himself was seated at his desk, apparently sorting through a stack of old ribbons and show photographs. He looked up when he saw Drusi enter the room.

"Ah, hello there. Drusi, is it? Is something the matter?" Mr. Moorland's eyes looked tiredly nostalgic--Drusi suddenly wondered if she'd been intruding upon his reminiscing over the photos.

"No, sir. Sorry, it's just that I have a request."

Thomas sat up a bit straighter, setting the photographs aside. Drusi couldn't help but catch sight of one; it was a faded image of a smiling, dark-haired woman perched proudly on a white horse. There was a dusty blue ribbon pinned to the corner of the photo, identical to the one on the bridle of the horse in the picture.

"Right then. What can I help you with, Drusi?" If Thomas had noticed her glancing at the photographs, he was tactful enough not to call her on it.

Drusi's mouth suddenly felt dry. She collected herself, mustering her courage.

"I want to ride Danger."

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

Jingle Balls

captainpettie | AO3 | Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy your gift and have a wonderful Christmas and New Year. 

Rated T for some language.

A Sterek fic wrapped up in a big Christmas bow. Stiles and Derek are rival bookshop owners, but that might change when Stiles finds Derek alone on Christmas Eve.

“Why is Derek Hale outside?”

Stiles’ head snapped up, bashing against the shelf above him.  He swore, loudly, and dropped the stack of books he was holding so he could cradle his skull, wincing as he straightened from his crouch.

From her perch on a chair a few feet away, balancing precariously with one foot on the back of it so she could reach the ceiling, Allison raised a slightly judgemental eyebrow at him. 

“Don’t rush,” she teased, tone mild. 

Stiles grumbled, rubbing the knot of pain on the top of his head as he approached the front of the store.  Derek Hale was outside, hands shoved in his coat pockets as he glared at the front of Stiles’ bookstore.  For a second, it looked like Derek was scowling through the glass windows at Stiles, which wasn’t actually that unusual, but then he realized Derek was looking at the huge Christmas tree Stiles and his staff had spent all morning setting up in front of the windows.  Sure, it wasn’t the classiest of Christmas trees; it was kind of gaudy looking, with bright, twinkling lights casting multicolored hues onto the glass, and way too much tinsel.  But Stiles thought it looked great.

Stiles folded his arms, frowning.  Derek rarely ventured this far down the street.  He seemed to get hives just being in the general vicinity of Stiles’ store, which was fine, because Stiles always took the long route home so he didn’t have to walk past Derek’s sorry excuse for a bookstore. 

He glanced over at Scott.  He was pouring a drink for a customer in the Coffee Corner, but he was watching Stiles, waiting to see how this played out.

Finally, Derek snapped his gaze away from the tree and marched towards the door, pushing it open; the bell that Stiles had installed above it chimed a tinny version of Jingle Bells and Derek’s head shot up to glare at it, appalled.

“You’re letting the cold in,” Stiles snapped.

Derek let go of the door, letting it shut with a clatter loud enough to echo through the store.  Several customers looked up, startled, and Stiles narrowed his eyes as Derek approached him.  He stopped right in front of Stiles, but his gaze was elsewhere, taking in the whole bookstore.  Specifically, the Christmas decorations that Allison, Kira and Danny were still hanging up. 

It had been expensive, but it was Stiles’ first Christmas since he opened Hobbit Hole in January and he was overwhelmingly happy of its success, so he’d gone all out on decorations.  Mistletoe, stars dangling from the ceiling, tinsel, strings of Christmas lights, a mini Christmas tree in the Coffee Corner, stockings and wreaths, little gingerbread men and elves and Santa and reindeer statues.  There was a book igloo and Santa’s Grotto in the children’s section and Scott had come up with some amazing festive drinks and baked goods.  It was a little much, maybe, but Stiles thought it looked nice; bright and twinkly and festive.  He could just imagine how warm and inviting it would look from the street now the nights were drawing in so early and the weather was cold and due to snow.  Plus, the Christmas period would mean lots more customers wanting to buy books, especially for children, so jazzing it up to make it look festive and fun would make people want to buy them from his store.

And it was Christmas.  He loved Christmas and he loved the decorations, so Derek and his disgruntled expression could suck his jingle balls.

Derek’s gaze landed on Stiles’ sweater.  Stiles crossed his arms over it protectively, then dropped them again, because he was proud of this year’s Christmas sweater.  It had Chewbacca wearing a Santa hat with Christmas lights wrapped in his face fur.  It was cool.  All of his staff were wearing Christmas sweaters too; he didn’t have a uniform.  He didn’t like them.  Scott, Allison, Kira and Danny were his friends, so they could wear what they wanted, and the vibe worked with the sort of store Stiles owned, so customers didn’t really care.  But they’d all agreed to wear Christmas sweaters.

“What,” Derek demanded, “Are you doing?”

“Christmas decorations, Derek,” Stiles replied slowly. “I don’t know if they celebrated Christmas in whichever lab you were grown in, but most people like to put up festive decorations in December.”

“It’s the first.”

“Right, of December,” Stiles said. “Ergo, decorations. What do you want, dude?”

He watched Derek grind his teeth, barely biting a smirk.  It usually took a little more needling to get Derek this irritated, but he knew Derek hated the word ‘dude’. 

Gotcha, he thought smugly.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Scott shake his head slightly, but he kept his gaze on Derek, staring him down.  Patience wasn’t really his thing, and keeping quiet and still definitely weren’t either, but he waited Derek out, knowing it would annoy him even more.

So he was petty.  Sue him.

Finally, Derek grit out, “The power will be out on Thursday. They’re doing works.”

Stiles frowned slightly. “I know?” he said, confused. “They sent me the exact same letter, Derek. Every business on the block got it. I’m gonna close the store for the day.” He paused. “Wait, what, are you visiting every business on this street to tell them? That’s…surprisingly social of you, are you feeling okay?”

Derek’s expression turned to thunder. “I just wasn’t sure if you could read,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm, and he turned, marching towards the door.

“That’s not even a decent insult, Derek!” Stiles called after him. “I own a bookstore.”

The only answer he got was the door slamming shut, rattling in the frame from the force of it.  Stiles craned his head to watch Derek storm off down the street, then threw his hands up, walking over to the Coffee Corner. 

“That was weird,” he said, leaning on the counter to watch Scott carefully stack some cups. “That was weird, right?”

“Maybe he just wanted to see you,” Kira said with a smile as she walked past, a long bit of tinsel dangling after her.  The bells on her reindeer antlers jingled with each step.

“Right,” Stiles said, scoffing slightly. “Yeah, actually, I wouldn’t put it past him to come in just to annoy me. He acts like he owns the world’s highest horse, but he’s just as petty as me, I know it.”

Scott shook his head slightly, a smile tugging at his mouth.

***

It wasn’t like Stiles had intentionally opened Hobbit Hole on the same street as another bookstore.  It just kinda…happened.  It was just the logical choice, economically and geographically; it was the best sized building for his store without being charged an indecent amount of rent for the space, and it was only a fifteen minute walk from his apartment, so he didn’t have to rely on his not-so-trusty-these-days jeep to get him there every day. 

Plus, it was on one of the main streets in town, so it was where the most foot traffic was.  More people would see his store.  And it was a pretty street.  Everything just kinda came together and if there happened to be competition on the same street, well…that wasn’t really his fault.  Besides, he’d seen loads of independent stores selling the same things on the same street, some even right next to each other.  At least there were six other stores between him and Derek.

So he’d figured it wouldn’t a big deal.

Except Derek Hale, the owner of Hale Books – and what kind of boring, lame-ass store name was that? – was kind of a dick.  An antisocial, stuck-in-his-ways dick.  He hadn’t even bothered to hide his disdain when he saw Stiles’ store, with its vibrant front and awesome hobbit hole themed sign – which Danny had spent ages designing for him, so Derek could shove it – and bright, modern interior.  He’d looked appalled at the children’s section with its chaos of tiny plastic chairs and crayons and puzzle books, rolled his eyes at the comic books section, looked irritated at the section full of gifts, board games and stationary, and downright disgusted at the tiny coffee shop. 

It was everything Derek hated in a bookstore.  It was sacrilege against the sanctity of books and traditional bookshops.  It was the exact opposite of Derek’s own store and he hadn’t even bothered to bite back his snarky remarks about it when they’d first met.

Derek Hale was handsome.  Frustratingly so.  Everything he did was attractive, or, worse, adorable.  Even when he was glaring at him, Stiles had to admit, it was a gorgeous glare.  But his appreciation for Derek’s…everything had pretty much gone out of the window when they first met and he realized how much of a jerk Derek was.

And, hey, he wasn’t exactly a fan of Derek’s store either, with its bland name and bland store front, its cramped shelves filled with old, dusty books, and the complete lack of anything modern or comforting, like wifi, or coffee, or, you know, staff.  Derek ran it by himself and how it kept going, Stiles had no idea, because he was pretty sure there wasn’t a single book in there that had been published in the last decade and Derek himself wasn’t exactly warm or inviting.

They were the exact opposite of each other.  Derek hated Stiles’ loudness, his confidence, his vocabulary, the way he moved his hands when he talked, his stupid jokes and his smirk and his insistence that modern was the way forward, trampling over anything traditional about bookstores.  Stiles hated Derek’s arrogance, his quiet disdain, his snobbish, stubborn, stick-in-the-mud attitude that he was right and his way was better, he hated his refusal to even acknowledge that Stiles’ bookstore worked for a lot of people, and he hated how attractive Derek was because sometimes it made him hard to focus on how much he loathed Derek’s scowl.

So they resolved to ignore each other, pouring that rivalry into trying to better each other’s sales.  Stiles was pretty sure he was winning on that front, but Derek definitely had his loyal customers, and there usually was a decent, steady flow of people going in and out.

Not that he was watching Derek’s store.

Obviously.

The few times they did interact were to bug one another, winding each other up until they snapped and argued, and, inevitably, a door was slammed. 

Stiles didn’t really get why he let it go on.  Pettiness, definitely, and his own stubborn streak that made him determined to win this ridiculous rivalry. 

And maybe, if Stiles was being honest, there was a small part of him that liked having Derek’s focus completely on him, if only for a few, heated minutes.

***

Stiles didn’t see Derek for the rest of the run up to Christmas, though that small, petty part of him did hope that Derek could hear the Christmas songs Stiles played all day every time the door opened.

He didn’t get much time to think about Derek, though.  He was rushed off his feet every day, either running around helping Christmas shoppers find what they needed, or on his feet behind the counter for hours serving customer after customer, or helping Scott out in the café. 

It was good, their sales were through the roof, and Stiles couldn’t be happier.  He loved Christmas and he loved sharing his love for books and the festive period with both his friends and with the people who came into the store.

But he was also incredibly tired.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, he was ready to sleep for a month.  His feet ached, his eyes felt hot and heavy, and he just wanted his bed.  He’d sent the others home early; he was closing the store at four instead of eight, but since no one was really coming in anyway, he’d let them go to enjoy Christmas Eve. 

Stiles didn’t mind being on his own for a couple of hours.  He was spending Christmas Eve alone in his apartment, since he wasn’t driving to his dad’s until tomorrow morning.  He read, mostly, keeping himself awake, and served the occasional customer who rushed in looking for a last minute gift.  At four, he flipped the sign on the door to closed and locked up. 

He cleaned and tidied, switched off the lights, and went into the small staff room to grab his stuff.  It had been snowing heavily over the last few days, so Stiles had started wearing his boots to work and switching to his more comfortable sneakers once he was inside.  He dropped down onto the couch to swap shoes, but the second his body hit the comfy, slightly overstuffed sofa, exhaustion seemed to crush him to the spot.

He let his body tilt sideways, curling up on the couch, and closed his eyes.  Just for a moment. 

He woke with drool crusted on his face and eyelids that felt glued shut from sleep.  He grimaced, rubbing at his face until he felt a little more human, and pulled his reluctant body up until he was sitting.  The lights in the staff room had shut off automatically, the only light coming from the street, casting a hazy yellow glow into the room.  Snow was dancing down outside and Stiles yawned, fumbling until he found his phone to check the time.

10pm.  He groaned.  The walk home would be cold and wet and he’d just about have time to grab some food before catching some more sleep. 

He stood, switching his shoes for his boots, and bundled up in his winter gear, grabbing his bag.  He left, locking the door behind him, and stepped onto the sidewalk, immediately sinking ankle deep into the snow.

It was dark and silent.  Everyone was at home, in the warmth, enjoying their Christmas Eve.  Not even a single car trundled past.  It was peaceful and almost comforting, actually.  It kind of felt like magic in the air.

He started to turn to the right to start his walk home, but something caught his eye.  All of the stores were dark, the owners having closed up and gone home, except for one.  A dim light inside spilled out onto the sidewalk, making the snow almost glitter.  Stiles knew, of course, exactly which store it was, and he urged his feet to keep going right, to just walk home.

Instead, he found himself pulled towards Hale Books.  He told himself that he was just going to check Derek hadn’t left the lights on or, like, fallen and brained himself or something and lifted his chin slightly, doing his best to believe it as he stopped outside of the store.

He immediately saw Derek.

He was sat on a stool by the counter, completely enraptured in the book in his hands.  The lights had been dimmed to be less intrusive, casting the store in a soft, hazy glow.  It looked warm and inviting, Stiles had to admit.  Derek looked warm and inviting, wearing a burgundy sweater with freaking thumb holes, his face soft and relaxed as he read. 

Stiles yanked his gaze away. 

The sign on the door still said Open.  Stiles stared at it for a moment, then glanced back at Derek.  A tiny little smile pulled at his lips as he read.  Stiles had never seen Derek smile before – not a real one, anyway; the smiles he saw ranged from sarcastic and disdainful to simply faking it to be polite to customers, and while incredibly handsome, it was just a little too sharp, too painful, almost, to be believed – and for some inexplicable reason, it was the sight of it that made Stiles finally step forward, pushing open the door.

A bell – a normal one, unlike Stiles’ festive monstrosity – chimed softly as he stepped inside.  Derek quickly shut the book and looked up, his polite how-can-I-help smile (like broken glass, Stiles thought, exhaustion fogging his brain, broken edged, damaged) morphing to a look of irritation when he realized who it was.

“What do you want?” he asked.  His tone lacked its usual snap, though.  Instead, he just sounded tired.

“What are you even doing open?” Stiles asked, bewildered. “Dude, its ten o’clock on Christmas Eve.”

Derek looked away, placing the book he’d been reading onto the small counter.  He shrugged. “Figured I’d stay open. There’s always some idiot running around looking for last minute gifts.”

“Yeah, not at this hour, buddy,” Stiles said, shaking his head.

Derek kept his gaze fixed somewhere over Stiles’ shoulder. “Yeah, well, I don’t mind. I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas Eve with, so.”

Rivals or not, Stiles’ heart ached.  He gazed at Derek for a few minutes, unsure of what to say, but when he did finally open his mouth, he realized he’d made his decision the second Derek had spoken.

“Cool, well, I’m not spending Christmas Eve with anyone either, so…” He worded it carefully, not spending it with anyone as opposed to no one to spend it with, not wanting to make Derek feel like a pity party, or like he was being pandered to. 

He took off his hat, shoving it into his bag with one hand and running the fingers of the other through his hair as he sat down on the stool. 

Derek stared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“C’mon, man, you can’t kick me out on Christmas Eve. Where’s your Christmas spirit?” Stiles replied, offering his best wide eyed look.  When Derek just frowned at him, he added, “Don’t be a Scrooge, dude.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” Derek said.  He was obviously aiming for exasperation, but his tone ended up sounding more resigned, and Stiles grinned in victory as Derek sat down on the other stool.

He watched Derek pick up his book again and resolved to be quiet.  After just a couple of minutes of silence broken only by the occasional turn of a page, Stiles started to fidget, foot tapping on the bar of the stool, fingers twitching on the counter.  Derek lifted his head slightly, shooting him a glare, and Stiles held up his hands, getting back to his feet.

He walked around the store, peering at the shelves.  Derek’s store was a lot smaller, but the shelves were more cramped with books, so it took a while.  It was a lot more neatly organized than Hobbit Hole, though.  He pulled the occasional book out, flicking through it curiously, before returning it carefully to its place.  He caught Derek watching him a couple of times and figured Derek was worried about him creating a mess, so he was incredibly careful not to.

Eventually, he made his way back to the counter. “It’s so cold in here,” he said. “Don’t you have heating?”

Derek wordlessly pointed to a cast iron dinosaur of a radiator.  The heat it emitted barely touched the cold air a few feet away from it and it looked about two seconds away from dying completely.

“What the hell is that?”

“A radiator, Stiles,” Derek replied impatiently.

“Yeah, but…outdated, much? Wait, what am I talking about, outdated is practically your middle name.” Stiles said, then widened his eyes and held up his hands when Derek’s gaze snapped up to him. “No, sorry, that was offensive, I know. I just…jeez, aren’t you cold?”

Derek paused, fingertips idly stroking the spine of his book, and Stiles had stop watching because the sight made his traitor of a body tingle.

“A little,” Derek admitted. “It’s usually warmer than this, but the heating keeps going off today.”

Stiles frowned. “Right, we’re going to my place.” Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles absolutely did not go red, not even a little bit. “My store, Derek.”

Derek looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “Why?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Stiles griped, grabbing his bag and hat again. “My store gives you hives, it’s a disgrace to the sanctity of bookstores, etcetera, etcetera, but I’m cold, you’re cold, and my store has a heating system that didn’t become obsolete in the sixties and hot drinks. So whaddaya say?”

He expected Derek to put up more of an argument, or even just outright refuse and kick him out, but to his surprise, Derek just nodded, getting to his feet.

“Wait here.” He disappeared through a door behind the counter.  When he returned, he was bundled up in a coat, hat and scarf, even gloves, soft looking knitted grey ones.

Adorable, Stiles thought, the jerk.

He hovered as Derek switched everything off and locked up, then lead him down the street, back to his own store.  He opened the door and quickly switched off the alarm as he ushered Derek inside, locking the door again.

Derek found a seat in the Coffee Corner as Stiles flicked on all of the lights and turned on the heating.  By the time he’d made two hot chocolates – extra marshmallows for Derek, he looked like he needed it – and carried them to the table, the store was warm enough for them both to shed their outdoor layers.

Derek looked at his mug for a moment, then wordlessly popped a marshmallow into his mouth.

“So,” Stiles said, after a minute of silence ticked by. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Derek said nothing.  He glared at the mistletoe hanging above the coffee counter like it had personally offended him. 

“It looks like one of Santa’s elves threw up in here.”

Stiles barked a surprised, pleased laugh. “Well, merry fuck you to you too, Derek.”

Derek’s mouth twitched slightly and he folded his arms, leaning back.  Stiles filled the silence by slurping his hot chocolate.  Derek just watching him, 100% judging him, but he didn’t say a word.

“You really don’t like Christmas, do you?” Stiles said, voice soft.

Derek glanced at the tree, watching the lights twinkle for a moment. “I used to.”

There was so much grief and longing in those three words that Stiles knew, instantly, that he needed to drop that line of conversation.  He searched around desperately for something to say that would ease the horrible, heartbroken look on Derek’s face, but before he could blurt anything out, Derek spoke again.

“My family,” he said, pausing for a second to gather himself before continuing, “The store was my mom and dad’s. They opened it shortly after they got married. Me and my siblings, we grew up running around the bookshelves and reading the books in the corner when mom or dad were busy with customers.”

Stiles could imagine it, a tiny Derek with skinned knees and gapped teeth and a mop of dark hair, tucked under a table reading, lost in his own little world.  He smiled. “That’s nice.”

“They died.”

Stiles’ ribs constricted. “Derek…”

“All of them, they died. There was a fire. I came home and they were gone. All of them.” Derek bit out the words, the pain it took to say each one of them clear on his face. “I was the only one left. Just me. That’s why I’m spending Christmas alone. There’s no one else, not anymore.”

Stiles’ heart hurt.  He reached out, resting his hand on Derek’s forearm, just wanting to take that pain and grief and longing that was on Derek’s face, to feel it so Derek wouldn’t have to.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Derek’s mouth turned up slightly into that jagged, bitter smile. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“No,” Stiles said, almost urgently. “I know everyone says that. I know how much it makes you sick to hear it after the hundredth time. I know. But…I am. My mom…she died when I was a kid. Cancer. I know it’s not…I know what you went through…it’s different, I know that, but I get it, and no one deserves to go through that. I’m sorry.”

Derek stared at him for a long second.  Just stared.  His eyes glittered with unshed tears and his lips parted slightly, and he just looked, straight into Stiles’ eyes, stealing Stiles’ breath. 

“Thank you,” he said, finally, voice quiet and rough.

Stiles realized he still had his fingers curled around Derek’s arm, that he’d leant in and was gazing into Derek’s eyes, and he cleared his throat, pulling back with a soft smile.  He looked down at his hot chocolate, swirling it so the marshmallow shifted around on the surface.  It didn’t hit him until a few minutes later.

Because of course.  He was such an idiot.  An insensitive dick of an idiot.

 No wonder Derek didn’t want to update the book store.  If everything had burned…god, it was probably the only thing of his family he had left.  Of course he kept it just the same, of course he was so determined to run it the way he did, to keep it open and successful.  He’d want to do it for his family, to make them proud, to keep them alive, in some way.  That store and the memories it held was his last link of his family.  Why would he ever want to cover that up with new paint and new books and new…everything?

“Shit,” Stiles said. “Shit, Derek, I’m sorry.”

Derek looked at him, questioning, brow furrowed slightly.

“The store,” Stiles clarified. “Your store. I get it now. I was such a dick. I’m sorry.”

Derek’s mouth twitched up slightly.  It wasn’t exactly the real smile that Stiles had only glimpsed before, but it was close. 

“I don’t think your store is that bad,” he admitted, and Stiles’ eyebrows shot up. “It’s…not my kind of thing, but I can appreciate it. It works. And,” he added, his expression turning wry, “I have to admit, the heating and hot drinks is a perk.”

Stiles laughed, cradling his mug in his hands, feeling inexplicably happy. “Can I get that in writing?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but it was amused rather than irritated, and Stiles practically beamed at him.  They finished their drinks quietly and Stiles stood, gathering the cups to take them to the counter.  Derek followed, offering to help clean up, but Stiles waved a hand.

“I’ve got it,” he said, glancing over, then paused.

Derek tilted his head slightly. “What?”

Stiles’ gaze flicked upwards before he could help it and Derek followed it, looking at the mistletoe that hung above their heads.  He felt his cheeks heat up and his belly fluttered and he cleared his throat, looking back at Derek.

Who was watching him, a soft expression on his face.  He smiled and there it was, that realness, and it took Stiles’ breath away. 

“I…” he started, then stopped, swallowed, continued, “I should wash these up.”

Derek nodded, stepping back slightly.  Stiles moved behind the counter and focused on washing up and cleaning the hot chocolate machine.  He took his time, making sure everything was clean and tidy – exactly as Scott had left it – before joining Derek back at the table.

They talked for a while, about books and Christmas sales and how much it had snowed this year, and eventually Stiles lost track of what they were even saying, he was so tired.  His head drooped onto his arms on the table and, between one breath and the next, he was fast asleep.

When he woke, he was alone.  The lights had been switched off, but the heating was still on.  Derek had found the blanket from the staff room and draped it over Stiles’ shoulders.  Stiles’ heart felt huge and warm.

He stretched, spine popping after sleeping in such a cramped position, and checked the time.  It was gone midnight.  Officially Christmas.  Instead of being tucked up in bed, belly full, ready for Christmas with his family, here he was, but he didn’t regret anything, not even slightly.

He put the blanket away and bundled up.  Derek had locked up behind him and posted the keys back through the letterbox with a little note.  Stiles picked it up, reading the smooth handwriting with a smile.

Merry Christmas, Stiles.

 ***

Stiles found himself thinking about Derek a lot over the next few days.

He wondered if Derek was spending Christmas day alone too and the thought made his heart ache.  He wondered if Derek was eating good food, or opening thoughtful gifts, or spending time with people who cared about him, and he wished he’d thought to ask him about his plans.  The idea of Derek spending the day alone was horrible.

He went back to work after Boxing Day, but he was too busy with the flood of customers redeeming their gift cards or exchanging gift to visit Derek’s.  He had to wait until the day after and he left home earlier than usual.  He knew Derek usually opened his store an hour earlier than Hobbit Hole.

At this hour, it was pretty quiet.  Stiles only encountered people rushing to grab coffee or breakfast before work.  It was snowing, not as heavily as the last few days, just little cold flakes fluttering around Stiles and spreading a thin blanket on the ground.  Hale Books was lit up, casting a warm, inviting glow into the dark winter gloom, and Stiles stepped inside into the welcoming warmth.  The heating was finally fixed, then.

The first thing Stiles noticed was that there was something different, but it took him a second to plate it.  There.  There was a little table by the counter with a coffee machine on it.  Stiles laughed, stepping closer, and saw there was a sign written in big capital letters stuck to the machine.

FOR STILES’ USE ONLY.

Something warm and happy expanded in Stiles’ chest.  He reached out, touching the coffee machine with a smile.  After a moment, Derek cleared his throat, drawing Stiles’ attention to where he stood behind the counter.  He wordlessly pointed to the ceiling and Stiles looked up. 

There was a single sprig of mistletoe hanging above the counter.

When Stiles looked at Derek, he was smiling at him, that soft, beautiful smile, and Stiles grinned back.

He had a feeling his New Year was going to be wonderful.

[ezatluba]

A Crucial Blind Spot in Veterinary Medicine

The placebo effect shows up in pets too, but these treatments are fooling owners, not their animals.

EMILY ANTHES

NOVEMBER 7, 2019 

In 2003, a team of researchers from several American universities launched a small clinical trial, the results of which should not have been a surprise. Of the patients taking the active drug, an anticonvulsant intended to reduce epileptic seizures, 86 percent saw their seizure frequency fall. So did 79 percent of the patients that received a sham treatment, or a placebo.

It seemed like a classic example of the placebo effect, with one notable difference: The patients were dogs.

“As I did these placebo-controlled studies and I was evaluating data, I was like, ‘Oh, look, these dogs are getting better on the placebo,’” says Karen Munana, a veterinary neurologist at North Carolina State University who co-authored the study. That response had never been reported for epilepsy treatments in dogs before, she says.

At the time, double-blind placebo-controlled trials—the gold standard for evaluating new medical treatments—were relatively uncommon in veterinary medicine. But if Munana and her colleagues hadn’t done one, they would have misjudged how well the drug, levetiracetam, worked. “If I had not had the placebo arm [of the study], I would’ve said that this drug was effective,” she says.

While the placebo effect is a well-established phenomenon in human patients, it’s an underappreciated one in veterinary medicine. And the particular way it plays out in veterinary care highlights how unconscious cognitive biases can mislead humans when we care for other species. Even when pet owners are determined to provide first-rate care for the animals they love, these blind spots can undermine their best efforts. “The stories that we tell about our pets often aren’t really reflecting what’s happening to their bodies,” says Brennen McKenzie, a veterinarian and the author of SkeptVet, a blog dedicated to evidence-based veterinary medicine.

Doctors have long observed that mock medical treatments, such as sugar pills and saline injections, make many sick people feel better. Scientists believe that these improvements can be partly explained by the power of expectations; truly believing that a pill will alleviate pain or nausea, for instance, may in fact make that discomfort subside. Though much remains mysterious about animal minds, it seems unlikely that pets are bringing these kinds of beliefs into the veterinary clinic. “I don’t think our patients have an idea about their disease that we can affect by saying, ‘Here’s a therapy that can make you feel better,’” McKenzie says. And yet a number of studies—of cats, dogs, and horses—have found that dummy drugs seem to help ailing animals get back on their furry feet.

A variety of mechanisms could explain these observations, some of which might also play a role in the human placebo response. One possibility is simple regression to the mean—the animals could be getting better independently of any medical intervention. Chronic diseases such as epilepsy tend to wax and wane, and pet owners might be more likely to enroll their dogs in a clinical trial or try new treatments when the seizures are particularly bad. In many of those cases, the seizures might be bound to improve on their own, simply as part of the natural course of the disease.

Studies also show that people often change their behavior when they know they’re being observed. This so-called Hawthorne effect could help explain Munana’s findings. All the dogs in her study were on at least one anti-seizure medication in addition to levetiracetam, and pet owners might be more diligent about adhering to these drug regimens when their dogs are enrolled in a trial.

“Because they are in a study—and the owners know that their dogs are being scrutinized and the records are being scrutinized—maybe they’re more likely to give the medications on a more regular basis,” Munana says.

Animals in clinical trials might also receive better, more attentive veterinary care than they otherwise would. Some evidence suggests that gentle contact with humans may itself be therapeutic for certain creatures, including dogs and horses. And in some instances, classical conditioning could be at work. For example, rats that have regularly been getting insulin injections will still experience blood-sugar changes if they suddenly start receiving saline injections instead.

But in many cases, the most likely explanation is what’s known as the “caregiver placebo effect,” or “placebo effect by proxy.” In veterinary medicine, patients can’t speak for themselves. They can’t tell their doctors where they hurt—or even if they do. Instead, veterinarians have to rely on their own observations and judgments, as well as those of the animals’ owners, to infer how their patients are faring.

In many studies of canine epilepsy, including Munana’s, researchers depend on the dogs’ owners to keep track of the animals’ seizures. In most cases, it’s obvious when a dog is seizing, but sometimes owners have to make sense of more ambiguous signs and symptoms. For instance, some dogs drool when they seize, and an owner who discovers a spot of saliva on the floor has to decide whether it’s evidence of an unobserved seizure. Owners who believe that their dogs are on an effective treatment regimen may be less likely to come to that conclusion.

So it’s not pets that placebos are fooling, but humans. “When you give a treatment, there’s an expectation that the treatment’s going to be beneficial, and there’s a desire that my patient or my pet gets better—you want that to happen,” says Michael Conzemius, a veterinary surgeon at the University of Minnesota. The caregiver placebo effect, which has also been observed in studies of children, illustrates how unconscious expectations and desires can be deceptive, even for invested onlookers. And it could lead caregivers to perceive improvements in their pets’ health that don’t line up with objective reality.

In one FDA-approved trial of an anti-inflammatory for dogs with arthritis, researchers used both subjective and objective measures to evaluate the dogs’ limb function. In addition to asking pet owners and veterinarians to assess the dogs’ degree of lameness at regular intervals over the course of the study, they also used force platforms to determine how much weight the dogs were putting on each limb as they walked; if a dog begins to put more weight on an arthritic leg, it’s a sign that the pup’s pain has diminished.

When Conzemius took a close look at the dogs in the placebo group, he found that owners and veterinarians frequently reported that the animals had improved, even when the gait analysis suggested otherwise. “Even if we both agree that the patient’s better, we’re not the patient,” he says. “So we have to be willing to set our opinions aside and actually look at other data, hopefully objective data, when it’s available.”

The desire to see pets improve can be so strong that it blinds people to the animals’ discomfort. McKenzie recalls seeing a rottweiler with osteosarcoma, a cancer of the bone, in one of his legs. It was clear to McKenzie that the dog was in profound pain—he wouldn’t put his paw on the ground and whimpered when the vet touched it. But when he offered to prescribe a painkiller, the dog’s owner demurred. She said she was treating her dog with homeopathic pain remedies, and she was sure that they were working. “She was absolutely convinced that her dog was not in pain,” says McKenzie, who is also the author of a new book on the evidence, or lack thereof, behind alternative veterinary remedies.

Indeed, that’s what makes the caregiver placebo effect so pernicious. Even though the treatments are inert, the traditional placebo response does in fact make patients themselves feel better. The caregiver placebo effect, however, simply assuages our own anxiety and discomfort, while the patients—our pets—continue to suffer.

The phenomenon could help explain the rising popularity of alternative veterinary therapies, from acupuncture to CBD, but it might also be skewing assessments of more conventional treatments. The regulation of veterinary medicines is “fairly loose,” McKenzie says, and the market for them relatively small. So pharmaceutical companies have little financial incentive to conduct placebo-controlled trials, which are time-consuming and expensive, when animals are the intended patients. As a result, relatively few veterinary studies have historically included a placebo group, which means that many of the mainstream treatments on offer today may be less effective than pet owners have been led to believe. (In general, veterinary trials also tend to be smaller and of lower quality than human ones, researchers have found.)

Norms and practices are finally beginning to change, and more veterinarians are coming to embrace the precepts of evidence-based medicine. Even so, McKenzie would like vets to be more transparent about how much scientific evidence exists (or doesn’t) to support the remedies they’re recommending, and to warn their clients about how human assumptions can sometimes lead us astray.

That’s not always an easy conversation. “We’re going to get resistance from people because it makes them feel like their personal experiences aren’t validated,” he says. “I always feel like it’s worth saying, when I’m talking to people about placebo effects, ‘I’m not here to say that you’re lying, that you’re stupid, that you’re just not paying attention to your pet … I make the same exact mistakes, and I do this for a living.’”

The caregiver placebo effect may be inconvenient, but it’s also a normal and natural consequence of human psychology. And in some ways, it’s a testament to how much people care about their pets—and to how desperately we want to believe that the things we do for them actually make their lives better. “The more strongly motivated you are to see something,” McKenzie says, “the more likely you are to see it.”

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Kindness; Part Five

Fandom: Fallout (3)

Pairing: Female Lone Wanderer/Charon

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Part five of twelve!

Spoon had awoken that morning in a pleasant, alcohol-induced haze. She sat in her chair for what felt like hours, watching the way Charon's back shifted as he breathed. The ghoul had slept on the floor in front of her chair, his combat armor shucked to the side. Well, slept or passed out, she wasn't sure. The sun's weary rays peered through the sheets of metal on the walls, catching the dust motes and making them dance through the beams. She had made a small, contented purring sound, stretching and positioning herself more comfortably in her chair while she examined him. Even with his body slack in sleep she could see the strength he had.

  Of course, she didn't really need to watch him while he was sleeping to know he was strong. He had certainly proved it to her during yesterday's events, if not before. Watching him now allowed her to appreciate him when he didn't have his guard up, let her see how calm he could look when he was relaxed. She wasn't sure why that was important to her, just that it was.

  He must have been something else before he got ghoulified. Spoon thought with a yawn, getting up and meandering around his large form. Goddamn giant red-headed motherfucker. Bet he broke all the girls hearts .

  “Lucas owes me some caps for yesterday's fiasco.” Spoon explained as they headed down the steep steps a little later, her cheeks feeling unnaturally hot as she thought back on her lazy morning. “So we're gonna' visit him, and then I have to go to Craterside. I'm finally low on ammo.” Charon nodded, easily keeping up with her shorter strides. “Ah, here we are,” Spoon said with a hint of relief, her voice still rough from the Nuka-whiskey mix. “Simms, have I got a fucking story for you!” She grinned while she shook the sheriff's hand.

  Simms' brow furrowed as he looked at Charon and gave the ghoul a tight nod. Charon returned the gesture after a moment. Simms didn't particularly care for ghouls, but he also operated on the, 'Do Unto Others' policy, so he wasn't about to start trouble. And for that, Spoon was forever grateful. “What happened to you yesterday? Stockholm said you came home on the big bastard's back.” Simms said worriedly.

  Charon gave an exasperated huff, and Spoon glanced up at him. The ghoul's eyes were somewhat pointedly aimed over Simms' head towards Stockholm's 'nest'. Spoon smiled uneasily. “He's exaggeratin'! If you calm your tits, I'll tell you what happened. Besides, you know how batty Stockholm can get.”

  “Well alright then. Lay it on me.” Lucas said, lighting a cigarette and looking at Spoon expectantly.

  “Ah, we cleared 'em out at any rate,” Spoon began lamely. Lucas raised an eyebrow and Charon made a sound that was suspiciously close to a chuckle. “That is, there were what...maybe eight of them in their hole?” She continued, somewhat flustered.

  “Nine.” Charon corrected quietly.

  “Right, nine. Sorry. During the skirmish on the overpass they shot up my shoulder. I got knocked out. We were sort of...”

  “Kidnapped.” Charon filled in for her. “I was chained up.”

  “Yeah. He thinks they worked for some slavers. They were talking about selling us.” Spoon explained.

  Simms looked surprised, then worried. “They're getting too bold. That's way too close to Megaton for my comfort.” He sighed after a minute, digging around in his coat pocket. “As long as you wiped 'em out, there's really nothing else to do for the moment. Here's the caps.” He said, passing a small sack to Spoon.

  Spoon nodded, tipping her hat in a farewell. “So long, Calamity.” She grinned, making Lucas laugh and doff his own hat.

  “Boy, I got vision, and the rest of the world wears bifocals.” Simms said with a smile, waving them off.

  “What was all that about?” Charon asked once they were out of earshot.

  Spoon gave him a sidelong smile. “He's a big fan of the old-world westerns. My...someone I knew in the vault was too, so occasionally I quote something at him and he quotes right back.”

  “Ah.”

  “Do you like westerns?”

  “Too many horses for my liking.” Charon grumbled.

  “Aw.” Spoon was disappointed, but excited that Charon expressed a personal dislike that had nothing to do with the safety of their locale.

    “Spoon! Come on in, just clearing up a little infesta--oo, who's your friend?” Moira bounded around the counter, eyes wide as she pressed her hands to Charon's chest. The ghoul started in surprise, stepping back and snarling while Spoon began to laugh.

  “Hands off Moira, he's mine.” Spoon said with an easy grin.

  Moira pouted. “Psh, you would swing that way, Vaultie. I don't suppose I could rent him out for a spell? Clearly, I have some research to do.”

  “Nice try, love.” Charon watched the flush that spread across Moira's cheeks at the term of endearment, “I'm no slaver. Show my partner some respect for his personal space. I'm here to buy, and maybe sell you some of this junk. 'Sides, I could never part with Charon. He's saved my ass one too many times.”

  “Aw fine. You're no fun, y'know that?” Moira grumbled, turning away to walk back behind her counter. Spoon crept up beside her, deftly pulling the redhead towards her into a graceful dip. Charon swallowed hard as Spoon murmured something quietly to the shop owner.

  This woman is something else, the ghoul mused while Moira sputtered and turned bright red. Spoon released her, again mentioning that she was here on business. It was a decidedly giddier Moira that began to haul out boxes of ammunition and accoutrements, babbling all the while about her experiments.

    “Gold star! You handled her like a champ!” Spoon praised Charon teasingly as they headed back to her house with arms full of ammunition and other supplies.

  Charon shook his head. “You had an...interesting way of changing her tune.” His voice held quiet disapproval that did not go unnoticed by Spoon.

  The scavenger shrugged as she fumbled around unlocking the door with her hands full. “She's used to people avoiding her because they think she's nuts. Now, I ain't saying she isn't, but she's not a bad sort.” Spoon carried on as she dumped her ammunition into her comfy chair, “I use almost the exact same tactics on any trader I come across, anyhow. It's only gotten me shot at a few times. Mostly by angry wives.” Spoon sniggered. “It even worked on Ahzrukhal.”

  “Why would you have tried it on Ahzrukhal?” Charon seemed to have a difficult time getting the words out of his mouth. “I-I mean...what made you think it would work on a ghoul?”

  “It was a gamble. I didn't know it would work. I just hoped real hard.” Spoon smiled, putting a hand on Charon's arm. “I'm glad it did, though.” Realizing what she was doing, she quickly pulled away with a cough. “I mean, y'know. You've been really helpful with stuff. And I hope you're more happy. Anything's probably better than leaning against that wall for hours.”

  “You have no idea.” Charon mused, his expression troubled. He knelt, spreading an old, stained cloth on the floor.

  Spoon was now very familiar with the ritualistic cleaning of his shotgun that occurred every evening. She watched him sometimes, silently of course. She didn't want to interrupt. He didn't really seem happy, per se, but there was a quiet contentment in his body language that wasn't present any other time. She sat down on the floor, and started tugging off her heavy boots. Charon paid her no mind as he carefully unloaded the shotgun and began disassembling it. Spoon pretended to be occupied with sorting out the different types of ammo, sneaking cautious glances at Charon's sure movements.

  Within a half hour, Charon was done. He held out a hand abruptly, making Spoon jump and almost drop the ammunition she had been 'sorting'. He looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Your gun. Want it cleaned?”

  Spoon cleared her throat, feeling caught and very awkward. “Show me how you do it? I've probably been doing it wrong this whole time. I've never had anyone to show me so I just kind of figured it out.” She admitted, passing the ghoul her rifle and sitting back down next to him.

    “See, normally I just kind of swab it out with a damp cloth an' call it quits. It's kept it going for this long.” Spoon explained.

  Charon grumbled to himself, already noticing the built-up layers of grime in the rifle's barrel. “You're lucky as hell that this thing hasn't exploded in your face, smoothskin.”

  “I never said it didn't!” Spoon protested, and Charon noticed for the first time (with a flicker of amusement) that her eyebrows were growing back in odd patches. “But it's the first weapon I ever found, and...I kind of love it, y'know?” She said weakly. “I mean, that thing and my knife have saved my hide probably thousands of times.”

  “Well I'll show you the basics, so if I ever...I mean, if you ever decide to part with my contract, you can, uh,” Charon cleared his throat, “Stay safe.”

  “Thanks.”

  The quiet word was so genuine it made Charon feel uncomfortable. He busied himself with wordlessly showing her the basic ways to clean the weapon. Numerous times he was forced to put his hands over hers to guide them, as her fingers were somewhat indelicate and unsure, and he found himself silently hoping that she wasn't disgusted by his touch.

  “I left the vault with nothing but a BB gun and a baseball bat, and I didn't even know how to upkeep them, so you can imagine how foreign this all is to me.” Charon almost jumped when she spoke, hastily reigning himself in as he automatically scanned the room for threats. Spoon sighed heavily. “Everybody in the place was either trying to kill me or telling me to get the fuck out. I was lucky I got out alive.”

  “A Vault-Dweller, huh?” Charon commented, keeping his tone level. Spoon nodded, an unhappy look turning her face dark. Charon was surprised to find that he missed the way her face was before. Preferences were...odd. When he worked for Ahzrukhal, he didn't need to worry about preferences. There wasn't all that much to worry about. Certainly not much to think about or do. Knock a few heads in, leave Patches at The Chop Shop. Clean his gun. Try to recall what it felt like to eat on a regular basis. Sometimes in a desperate bid to keep his sanity, Charon would make lists in his head. Songs he remembered, places he had been. He didn't want to forget. Charon rotated his shoulders and stood, grumbling low in his throat. Now isn't the time for this shit.  “I'm tired.”

  He felt the prickle of something that he vaguely recognized as guilt when he saw her eyes flash with poorly concealed hurt at his dismissal. But she quickly mastered herself, getting up and bidding him goodnight.

  Her hand lingered on his arm too long again. Charon found that sleep eluded him for quite a while.

    The low rattle of crank gun fire told them where the mutant was long before they could hear it hollering. “I'll come about down this hall. You flank him from the other hall. Stay low, shoot in the reload zone.” Charon hissed.

  Spoon nodded grimly, and bolted for the hallway. She gritted her teeth against the fear she felt swelling in her chest. She hated super mutants, hated their smell, their yelling, and especially their nasty penchant for making themselves goody bags of human remains for later. Spoon skidded to a stop beside a doorway as the crank gun whirred to a stop.

  Shoot in the reload zone.

  Spoon whipped her gun around the doorframe, cracking a shot off into the super mutant's neck. Blood spurted as the mutant let out an enraged bellow, fumbling with the crank gun. Spoon managed to get two more shots off, both burying themselves uselessly in the beast's shoulder.

  Charon where are you? She thought in a panic, scrambling away from the doorway as the crank gun whirred back to life. Bullets started to rip through the wall over her head, and she fled back down the hall.

  “Found you!”

  Spoon couldn't suppress the scream that bubbled up in her throat as a massive hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around. She fired point-blank into the mutant's stomach, the panic making her jerk the trigger twice.

  The rifle jammed.

  The mutant grinned, exhaling a foul breath into her face. Spoon flicked the trigger forward and then back. Nothing. The super mutant picked her up around the neck and Spoon hastily wrapped an arm around its hand, saving her neck from instantly being snapped by the weight of her body. She frantically pumped the trigger of the rifle as the mutant laughed, tears starting to come as she prayed for the damn thing to work work work please-!

  She pressed the muzzle of the gun to the mutant's face as her vision started to gray out. All she could hear was the maniac, discordant laughter of the creature and the useless clicking of her gun.

  So this is how I die? The calm thought surprised her into ceasing to struggle for a minute. Huh. This is definitely looking like how I die. I only wish I could have been stronger. Strong enough to kill this giant, dumb--

  The rifle abruptly fired into the mutant's face, neatly shearing through the skull and taking a chunk of minuscule brain with it. The mutant stopped laughing, face frozen in shock. The fingers around Spoon's neck tightened into a throat-crushing grip, and then relaxed as the beast slumped to the ground. Spoon rolled away, coughing and sucking air into her lungs. She flung an arm out and scooped up her rifle, standing on shaky legs.

  Charon. Where is Charon? She wondered, rummaging through the super mutant's armor for anything useful. She wished she was strong enough to easily use the crank gun, but no such luck. Those things weighed a ton, and no matter how good they were in a pinch there was no way she was lugging one around. The worry for Charon started to eat away at her, and she cautiously crept further down the hall. She could hear grunts and struggling in a room ahead, but it was too dark to see anything. “Charon?” She hissed, one hand on the wall and the other on her gun as she carefully felt her way forwards.

  “Time to die!” The scream cut through the black, making Spoon blanch from how close it was.

  “Charon!” She called, fumbling in her pockets and coming up with a matchbook.

Part Six

[howtohero]

#040 List of Handy Excuses (B)

It’s time for the next installment of our very popular (for a loose definition of “very popular”) list of handy excuses for when you wanna use your job as an excuse to get out of stuff to go fight crime.

A C D E

Babysitter

[No, you have to stay with the children. You wanna be a real hero? Keep an eye on these kids so their parents can have a well-deserved date night.]

Baker

• Great heroes aren’t born… They’re bread(makers).

Baggage Claim Attendant

I found this superhero costume in an abandoned piece of luggage at my work, I figured I might as well try it on and try fighting some bad guys. I mean why not right?

Bailiff

So I’ve been thinking, that judge guy is always having me bring in the evidence for all those court cases, so wouldn’t it be smart if I just went and grabbed pieces of evidence directly from crime scenes? Of course it’s smart. Uch I knew you’d be like this. Gosh it’s called being proactive Karen.

I’m also always showing belligerent witnesses or other such people out of court so wouldn’t it be neat if I showed a belligerent superpowered eco-terrorist out of our city? Of course it’d be neat! Uch why are you always like this. It’s called expanding my market Karen.

Banjo Player

The banjo that Kermit the Frog played in the opening scene of the Muppet Movie is at the Smithsonian. I need to go see it right now.

There’s a Mumford and Sons concert.

Bank Teller

No! No way. Is that a supervillain! I swear to god I cannot deal with this right now. These a-holes come into my bank like eight times a week and stick a gun or -and I kid you not- a four-foot-long flower that squirts acid in my face and hold me hostage and I am just sick of it. I’m out of here. (And then the irony is that really you are going to go put on some spandex and fight that supervillain).

Banker

I have to run out to go, uh, foreclose a house. (The irony is that really you’re going to go put on spandex and stop a house from burning down yay!)

Ball Boy

I am going to throw this baseball at Cthulhu.

Ballerina

Hey check this out! (then do some sick ballerina twirls right out the door).

Barber

I got a haircut the other day and my barber (shout out to Louie!) told me he was going to Italy for two weeks because he’s nearly 80 and he doesn’t know how many times he’s going to get to go to Italy and I thought he had an excellent point. So barbers, no matter what age you are, just tell people this. And then actually go to Italy.

Barker

You can actually use your loud shouting abilities to direct non-powered (read: lame) citizens away from the superhero fight. That’s probably where you can do the most good.

Bartender

Sometimes a supervillain just needs to talk to someone about their problems while that someone wipes the same spot of the counter with an old rag over and over again.

Baseball Player

I have an away game so I might be away for fifteen weeks.

I have a home game so I might be gone for thirty hours.

Basketball Player

Ok so I was playing golf and I made this admittedly kind of lousy shot but then the ball just started rolling and it landed right into the hole, crazy right? Yeah, so I go to get the ball and all of a sudden I get sucked into this cartoon world and these cartoon characters want me to play basketball against some cartoon alien monsters. So if I disappear for a bit that’s probably where I am.

Whoa, do you see that giant robot? How sick would it be if I jumped over that in the next dunk contest? I’m gonna go down there and see if I can’t get my hands on that thing.

Bass Guitarist

Ha! More like super bass (guitarist)!

Bed and Breakfast Proprietors

Literally all you have to do is just wait til after breakfast and before bedtime. Then you can go out and do whatever you want. Lunchtime is your prime crime fighting time.

Beekeeper

I’m sorry I will not be able to make dinner tonight for I have been carried off by a swarm of malignant bees.

I have to go put on my beekeeper suit, it may take a while.

Bellhop

Oh my god you would not believe this guest that’s staying at the hotel. He keeps finding problems with each room we put him in and demanding that we give him a new room and you know who has to carry his 22 incredibly heavy bags to each new room? Me! So if I leave abruptly, that’s where I am.

Bibliographer

Wait a minute, not everything in this non-fiction book is properly sourced and catalogued! I must get to the library posthaste to conduct the research necessary to determine where all of these facts, figures, opinions and otherwise borrowed pieces of writing originates from!

Bigfoot Hunter

Bigfoot’s doing another book reading at Barnes and Noble. It was in all the papers. Honestly, dude’s taking all the fun out of trying to track him down.

Biologist

Fun fact: I am the mitochondria, which is to the say, the “powerhouse” of this city. Therefore I am the only person capable of defeating this supervillain and his… acrobatic… elf army? What?

I have to go… photosynthesize something.

Biographer

Fun supervillain fact: Many supervillains turn to a life of crime and villainy because they feel that they have not gotten the respect that they were due in their pre-supervillain jobs. So maybe if I go down there and offer to write an actual book about them they’ll stop throwing pig carcasses at pedestrians.

Birdwatcher

Oh my god! There’s a light footed clapper rail near that superhero fight! I must get closer and snap some pictures for my rare birds Facebook and Instagram pages. Yes, I know it may be risky. But some things are just worth dying for. The light footed clapper rail is one of them.

Blacksmith

Finally! I’ve been clang clang clanging away on this new super cool armor in my workshop for weeks. I’m gonna put it on and fight that dragon that’s sitting in the park and freaking everybody out.

Boatswain

Some of the important boating equipment which I am responsible for (y’know stuff like life preservers, marine themed shaped snacks, the crew, boat engines?? porthole drapes?) is dangerously close to that rampaging truck monster. I’d better get down there and perform my sworn sacred boatswain duties.

Body Builder

Hey did you hear that I work out now? Yeah just figured I’d let you know in case you’re looking for me while I’m working out. If you can’t find me it’s probably because I’m working out. Crossfit leg day do you even lift crossfit.

Bodyguard

Ok if you’re a bodyguard and you want to go to your side job as a superhero here’s what you’ve gotta do. Wait until your client goes to the bathroom. Then jam the door, look him in there. Then go fight the crime. Then get back and free your client who will have been kept safe by the bathroom until you return.

Bongo Player

I’m gonna go find a bridge to play the bongos under.

Bookkeeper

I’m going to go down and take bets on that superhero fight I’m giving twenty to one odds on that giant mutant bullfrog eating Ultiman.

Botanist

You don’t need to make any excuses, probably your only friends are plants and plants are known to be very supportive of the activities of costumed heroes and vigilantes.

Bowler

(Look down at your shoes) My heavens! These are not my shoes! I must go find the true owners! (A Cinderella story for the modern age.)

Bouncer

I have to get to my post! My bar has a very strict no supervillains allowed rule and if that evil cyborg gets even close to The Drunk Hut it is my solemn responsibility to make sure he doesn’t get inside.

I’m a pretty buff man. I prevent children from sneaking in to the bar. I think it’s time that I step it up a level and bounce that supervillain right out of town.

Bouncy House Operator

Just deflate the thing and go fight crime.

Boxer

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, that villain may be winnin, but he’s not yet met me.

Boy Band Member

Bye. Bye. Bye.

Boy Scout Troop Leader

Ok whoever doesn’t tell their parents that I left early to punch a man made out of fire gets their “Kept a Superhero’s Secret Identity Badge,” their “Didn’t Snitch on Troop Leader Barry Badge” and their “Didn’t Descend into a Lord of the Flies Type Child Murder Chaos Scenario When Left Alone” badge.

Breakdancer

I’m going to challenge that eleven ton troll man from Mars to a dance-off, loser gets banished from Earth, winner gets ice cream (and gets to stay on Earth!)

Breeder

Wait a minute, does that supervillain have a horse that is on fire and also a ghost? Could you imagine what would happen if I acquired that horse and mated it with one of my top racing horses. It would be incredible. I’d be foolish not to get down to that superhero battle right away.

Bubble Blower (such as the kind that perform delightful and mystifying bubble shows)

I am going to delight and mystify this villain right in the face.

The villain is trying to make off with the entire town’s supply of soapy water. I must stop him. Even if I am not a superhero. Which I of course am not. (But say it in a way that sounds less suspicious.)

Buccaneer

I’m what you might call very expensive corn (wait for everyone to groan at your terrible pun) I’ll just see myself out.

Builder

Somebody somewhere just asked “can we fix it!” and I need to go shout “yes we can!” in their face. I know that that sounds like the kind of thing a fixer should be doing but we’ve pretty much taken over the “can we fix it/yes we can” industry thanks to public television.

Bureau of UFO Tracking, Transporting and Studying Agent

I have to go flush out some aliens, I don’t want any of them slipping through the cracks.

Bus Boy

All right everybody we’re going to try something new tonight! Everyone will just bus their own tables this shift! Then you’ll gain a greater appreciation for the working class! (You only need to do this once because you’ll almost definitely be fired for this.)

Bus Driver

If I stopped driving my route every time aliens took over midtown I’d never be able to my job.

Butlers

No no no no, butlers aren’t superheroes. It’s their rich masters who are superheroes. I mean sure butlers are the clear brains behind the entire operation and without them the Billionaire with Issues™ genre of superhero wouldn’t exist but I can’t think of a single butler superhero (as opposed to the dozens of bubble blower and bibliographer superheroes there are out there).

Tune in next time when we tackle all of the “c” occupations. As always if you know of a job that isn’t represented here ((speaking of representation, I’m pretty sure there isn’t any difference between a barrister and a lawyer so you’ll have to wait like a year til we get to L.) By all means, contact us. Or just use a generic excuse like “I need to get down to that superhero fight to see if I can help people in any way that I can because I am a good person” or “I am going out to get orange juice.”

[sierrastownies]

liar liar

Who? Cassie Rodgers, Jan Bosko

When? May 2017

Where? Rodger-Bosko? Residence

Cassie had been dancing around approaching the subject for awhile, but it seemed like every time she got around to confronting Jan, she chickened out and played it off as annoyance instead. So, with him gone yet again, Cassie let out a sigh and moved to place Claire down in her swing, strapping her in securely around the time she heard the front door jimmy open.

Jan knew he probably should tell Cassie about his new job but he was will on probation and getting paid under the table so he didn't want to get her hopes up. Though he wasn't sure if she would even really care all that much whether or not he had a job. Either way, it was the reason for him to keep it a secret and why he was trying to be quiet as he got home. He closed the door carefully, not wanting to wake either of his girls up but as he stepped further inside, he saw that they already were. "Hey," he breathed out, looking at Cassie then at Claire. "Is she being fussy?" He asked, checking his watch for the time.

Cassie glanced behind her shoulder at him when he came inside and pursed her lips, switching the swing on so the music played lightly in the background, swaying the infant. "She's been up off and on for the past hour," She murmured, taking the moment where Claire was just whimpering instead of hollering. "Where were you?"

Jan grimaced slightly at her answer. He was sure she was stressed out from dealing with that all on her own and felt bad for not being there to help out. "I was out," he answered vaguely, moving around Cassie toward Claire, making funny faces in hopes of getting her to giggle. "I'll stay up and keep her calm if you wanna get to sleep," he offered.

Cassie watched him carefully as he moved around, arms slowly crossing over her chest. "No, I'm fine. I've already made coffee," She murmured and bit into her bottom lip. "Out where? With Faye?"

Jan "Alright. We'll work together then," he said, looking back at her and flashing a quick smile. When she pressed him on where he was, his brows furrowed together. "Uh, no. I think she and Benny are in the woods getting high. Why are you so worried about where I've been?"

Cassie pulled the mug of her coffee drink off the shelves near where she was standing so she could take a seat on the couch, folding her legs up and smoothing the softer nightie down over her thighs. "Classy," She murmured before shrugging her shoulders, taking a sip. "I mean, it's late. You're always vague about where you are. Is it wrong to be curious?"

Jan made a little face at her murmuring, grabbing his own coffee mug to pour himself a cup. "No, I guess it's not wrong to be curious. But you usually don't ask any questions. Kind of assumed you don't care what I do."

Cassie "I don't ask because I don't want to intrude in your privacy that we agreed we both owed each other, but still... it's late. Am I living with a drug dealer or something?" She asked, watching him with her blue hues and her lips blowing on her drink.

Jan stopped what he was doing completely, turning to face her slow. His eyes narrowed on her and his jaw clenched in anger. "Do you really think that's what I've been doing? Or did someone else put that thought into your head?"

Cassie "I wasn't being serious, Jan. It's a joke considering you're out until late." Cassie rolled her eyes and looked back up toward him. "Who would be putting ideas into my head? I'm my own person, so no, no one is."

Jan didn't completely believe that she was joking considering what people thought about him around town. "It wasn't funny," he informed her, taking a sip of his coffee and deciding to stay standing where he was instead of sitting with her on the couch. "Oh, I don't know, your mother, your richie friends, your mother..."

Cassie looked over to Claire whom seemed to be settling down more before returning back toward Jan. "Sorry," She replied shortly with her mug to her lips and swallowing back a drink, rolling her eyes soon afterwards. "Just because my mother hasn't strong opinions doesn't mean I automatically listen to them."

Jan rolled his eyes at her. He wasn't too sure if that was completely true at the moment. "Ok, whatever. In case you're actually worried about it, no, I'm not selling drugs or doing anything illegal."

Cassie reclined back into the cushions and made a little face, staring down directly into her drink instead of at him, mumbling. "Clearly you're not doing a lot of things..."

Jan groaned at her mumbling. He wasn't in the mood to argue with Cassie but clearly something was bothering her and instead of just saying it, she was going to act like a brat. "What was that?"

Cassie glanced up toward him when he acknowledged her and gave him the sweetest smile she could muster at that moment, simply shaking her head. "Oh nothing. You don't need to worry about it."

Jan narrowed his eyes once again on her, not believing that smile for a second. He set his mug down and moved to the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bullshit. What the hell is going on with you? You've been acting passive aggressive lately and now tonight you're worried about what I'm doing."

Cassie scoffed. "I have not," She got a little defensive as he sat down beside her even if she knew she really was, but she couldn't help it. It became her default quickly. "Why would i have any reason to be aggressive? Everything is peachy keen. Excuse me for wondering where you might be when it's nearly after midnight. You would be wondering if it were me." She breathed out.

Jan scoffed at her and her lame denial. "First of all, you have been so aggressive, I don't know why but you have been. Secondly, anyone who says peachy keen is either being a liar, sarcastic or annoying happy and my guess is you're lying."

Cassie narrowed her eyes in at him when he scoffed back at her and did it again herself, her arms crossing tightly once her mug was rested between her thighs. "I am not being aggressive. Maybe you're just paranoid for whatever reason!" She breathed out, pursing her lips.

Jan almost laughed at the way she was looking at him and her scoffing. It was actually cute, even though he was sure she was trying to be intimidating or angry seeming. "I think you're the paranoid one here."

Cassie "I'm the paranoid one? No, no, I'm so not paranoid." She said and shook her head. "You're acting fishy."

Jan actually did laugh that time. "Only paranoid people would accuse others of acting fishy," he pointed out in a teasing tone as he reached out to poke her playfully on the side. "What's the matter with you?"

Cassie sighed through her nose when he poked at her and leaned back into the couch, slightly slumping into the cushions. "Why did you lie about Faye?" She asked, glancing toward him. "And where are you actually going?"

Jan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at her question. "I didn't lie about Faye? She said something about hanging out with Benny and he likes to hang out in the woods so..." He trailed off, not sure why they were even talking about Faye really. "Nowhere exciting."

Cassie "No, that's not..." she said and shook her head quickly. "Dating. You never said why you broke up, why?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. "Why can't you just tell me?"

Jan was even more confused about the whole Faye subject. He had no clue why she was asking about this now since that whole scheme ended so long ago. "Why are you asking about that now?" He questioned, pretty sure coming clean about it all now would not make tonight go anymore better. "Because it's nothing to tell, Cassie."

Cassie grew a little frustrated as soon as he kept veering away from each subject she asked him. Exhaling a deep sigh through her nose, Cassie pressed her palm down against her forehead in frustration. "God, never mind."

Jan let out his own sigh, knowing it was time to give her some answers or risk ruining whatever relationship they did have. "Faye and I didn't actually ever break up," he informed her, which he had a feeling she kind of knew already. "We weren't ever really together..."

Cassie "I know," She breathed out after a moment, still frustrated but still pretty alarmed she even got an answer. "Why did you even lie to me?"

Jan pursed his lips slightly at her response. He should have known she was asking for a reason. He shrugged his shoulders lightly and leaned back against the couch. "It's dumb. I'm dumb..."

Cassie "And why are you lying about where you are?" She asked again and moved to sit the coffee down on the table in front of her, before turning more to face him on the couch again. "What's so dumb about it?"

Jan "I'm not lying about where I am. Like I said, it's nothing to tell. If and when it is, I'll tell you, ok?" She really did know how to beat a dead horse. He shook his head at her when she questioned him further on the Faye thing, glancing away from her. "Just is."

Cassie "But you're withholding the truth of where you're even at so that's the same thing as lying." She muttered under her breath with an eye roll, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Just be truthful with me."

Jan rubbed the back of his head, trying to follow her logic. "Alright," he breathed out. "I've been working at a garage for a few weeks now. It's nothing official and I'm not getting paid much but I'm trying to save up money to help out. I didn't want to say anything in case the owner decided not to keep me on..."

Cassie settled back down in the seat and sighed through her nose, closing her eyes for a few moments. "That's not a bad thing, Jan." She said softly and moved to lean forward a little. "Even if he doesn't keep you, that's a good thing."

Jan shrugged his shoulders, keeping his eyes forward instead of on her. "I know it's not bad. I just didn't want to tell you and then you start like, I don't know...getting your hopes up or whatever. I have a tendency of fucking things up."

Cassie "What would I get my hopes up over? I mean... not to sound big headed, but I'm not really worried about money. It's something to be proud of." The blonde murmured and made a small face, looking up at him. "You don't have to keep things from me. Just like you don't have to keep up a fake relationship in front of me."

Jan "Well, that, for one thing," he began. "The whole being proud thing. Don't do that, ok?" He wasn't used to it and he didn't want to ruin that with her. He huffed when she brought up the fake relationship. "How did you find out?"

Cassie made a face at that response she got, looking him over once more as she did so. "What's so wrong with being proud? I thought we were working on that?" She said, shrugging her shoulders simply when he asked where she got her info. "Does it really matter? You still lied about it. Why would you even lie to me about that?"

Jan licked over his bottom lip, glancing over at her. "I don't want you getting your hopes up, ok?" He admitted to her, being completely serious. He bit down on his bottom lip, not sure if he wanted to explain or even how. "It was a dumb idea."

Cassie "There's nothing wrong with having a little hope and when things don't go as accordingly, we work on them. You're here, you're being a father to our daughter and you're working hard at it. You're not really doing anything disappointing, Jan." Cassie sighed out a little in more frustration, brushing her blonde hair back from her eyes. "What idea are you talking about?"

Jan slowly began to smile over at her, not being able to stop himself. She was way too positive of a person to be with someone like him. "I just don't want to do anything that would change your mind on that." He turned slightly on the couch so he was facing her more, moving in to be closer to her. "Well, you see, the idea was that you're into me and me being with another woman would make you jealous. But...it didn't work, right?"

Cassie "You won't," Cassie breathed out. "I mean... unless you up and leave one night, maybe that might change, but it won't." She watched his body movements carefully when he shifted on the couch and smiled at the same time, her lips slowly pressing together. The fact that he moved in closer didn't go unnoticed, it actually almost got her smiling herself. "You tried to make me jealous?" Cassie asked after a few moments, her tone quieting down. "Really?"

Jan quickly shook his head. "No, no...I wouldn't ever do that to Claire or you," he promised. He really hoped she didn't think that was a possibility for him. He wasn't sure how to read her at the moment; whether she was trying to hide the fact that he was right or trying to keep from laughing at his ridiculous that idea was. "Yea. Why? Did it work?"

Cassie "I know you wouldn't, that's why I don't think I'll change my mind. So quit worrying." Cassie shook his head at his promise, knowing that deep down, Jan wasn't that kind of guy. That was something she came to learn over the course of... whatever this what. Whatever journey they decided to take together. When he questioned her she made a little face, tucking her legs up underneath her. "Yes."

Jan "Ok, good. As long as you know," he breathed out, relieved to hear that she didn't think he'd run out on them. He couldn't imagine ever leaving either of them. He was in too deep. He raised an eyebrow at her simple, one word answer, moving himself in even closer to her. "Yes?"

Cassie nodded in return, figuring nothing else was needed to be said. Especially since she knew he wouldn't. "Yes, I was." Cassie said, already hating admitting to it. "It drove me crazy and I didn't understand it, but you were supposedly happy and you deserved to be happy. She suited you."

Jan smirked a little as she continued to admit being jealous. He couldn't believe his stupid plan worked. As she went on, his nose scrunched up. "No, not really. No offense to Faye but she's not really my type..."

Cassie turned to glance over at him and gave him a little look, feeling the annoyance flood back to her with that stupid little smirk. "You sure seemed like she was."

Jan shook his head at her, reaching out to set one of his hands on her legs. "No. I kind of always believed that opposites attract and Faye really isn't the opposite of me in any way."

Cassie purses her lips some as he spoke and eventually crossed over her arms, "Oh," She simply replied before she continued. "Well, nice game plan."

Jan almost laughed. He was sure she was getting annoyed with him but it was kind of his sweet spot with her. "Why were you jealous?"

Cassie "I don't know," She replied with a little huff and fidgeted with her hair again, this time pushing it back behind the shoulder that was exposed with her thinner straps. "And it's driving me crazy not knowing these things."

Jan 's eyes moved down as she pushed her hair back, looking her over slowly before moving his gaze back to her eyes. "I think you know," he whispered, reaching his hand up to play with the strap, shifting it off her shoulder as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her exposed skin.

Cassie hadn't even expected much but definitely wasn't expecting that, immediately feeling her eyes widen ever so slightly, and some goosebumps to rise on her arms. "I don't think I do," She murmured after a moment, taking the few seconds to glance at the swing, her head dropping to the side.

Jan "No?" He mumbled against her, his lips moving over her collar bone, nipping lightly. "Not even a little idea as to why you'd be jealous?" He pressed, kissing against her neck and pulling her closer toward him.

Cassie pushed her lips together for the split second to keep her composure in tact before eventually turning to face him again, letting him drag her the small distance close. Sucking in a sharp breath, Cassie then moved her hand up to his shoulder then neck, glancing down at him when he hovered over her collar bone. "Maybe."

Jan The sharp breath did't go unnoticed by Jan, he remembered the effect he had on her the first time they were in this position and knew he could tease her if he really wanted to. Which, of course, he did. "Well, I guess if you don't know for sure," he breathed out, pulling away from her and leaning back into the couch.

Cassie wanted to huff as soon as he pulled away from her and bit her tongue to keep her from giving in and doing so, especially as he left her in something like a trance. "Maybe is as good as you're going to get," She muttered under her breath in frustration as she snapped out of it, immediately turning and moving off the couch to lean over and grab her mugs.

Jan took note of her tone, knowing it wasn't her usual one but more of an annoyed tone. But not in the usual angry annoyed like when he gets the wrong formula. This time it was different. "We'll see about that," he stated as he got up from the couch. "I'm going to hop into the shower. If you want to put Claire down and join me, well...you'll need a better answer than maybe," he said, winking over at her as he walked off toward the bathroom.

Cassie followed him with her gaze as he walked down the hallway, rolling them soon afterwards. She didn't even get why he had that stupid effect on her, she would be glad if she could rid that once and for al. But still, he seemed to know just what to do to get her head churning and tempted all once more. She eventually set aside the dirty mugs, ran some water over them, before returning to scoop up the sleeping Claire in the swing and head over to her nursery. Soon enough, Cassie had laid her down and eventually let out a little groan when she lost the inner battle of what to decide, slowly slipping inside the bathroom since the door wasn't even shut. It was late, she could blame it on exhaustion, right?

Jan might have been a little full of himself in the moment but he was ninety-nine percent sure that Cassie would end up joining him in the shower. Which was the only reason he was moving so slowly once he actually got into the bathroom. Usually he was quick to get in and out but this time he was slowly undressing as he listened through the cracked door to see what she was doing. He had only been in the actual shower for maybe a minute or two when he heard her coming into the bathroom. Trying not to get too cocky, he moved forward so she had room to get in with him.

Cassie didn't know exactly what she was doing but her subconscious apparently did, which already had her in the bathroom before she thought of a better plan. There wasn't really any use in turning back now, she was already in there. Slowly reaching behind to untie the tiny knot fitting the attire she wore for bed she shimmied out of it, fixing her hair before she moved the curtain and slipped inside behind him. "Don't tease." She breathed out, holding her finger up.

Jan licked over his lips as he entered the shower, his eyes moving over her. "Why would I?" He asked in a soft whisper, reaching out to grab her hips as he moved closer to her. And within a moment, his lips were on hers.

Cassie bit down hard on her lip now that she was actually in there and he was looking at her, especially since no one really has ever seen her post pregnancy and birth of Claire. "You seem to be on a roll of doing it--" Cassie replied and found that her arm were immediately snaking around his shoulders, leaning up at her toes to be more at his height and more underneath the spray of the warm water.

Jan "Don't think you really mind," he pointed out to her, pressing soft kisses against her lips as he spoke. It had been a ridiculously long time since he had been with someone. The only time he ever went this long without was during his time in jail. So, his hands moved over her body a bit eagerly as he deepened the kiss.

Cassie wanted to roll her eyes but in all reality, she was a little busy. "Shut up," She grumbled slightly during the time her lips parted for some air, not wasting much time in leaning back in and stealing another one, this time a little harder and her hand moving up into his hair, tongue tracing the seem of his lips.

Jan smiled lightly into the kiss, gripping her hips tightly. Carefully, he turned them around, gently pushing her back against the shower wall as he pressed his body in closer against hers.

Cassie sucked in a sharp breath through her nose once the cool tile was pressed into her back, letting her fingers grip onto his hair a little tighter. Maybe she was a bit too eager as soon as the kissing starters, but then again, it's been about a year since she was even with somebody. Pressing her lips harder onto his, Cassie attempted to curve her body and press in closer, her other hand gripping his lower back.

Jan could feel the eagerness in her kiss and was sure that she could feel his as well. Not only had it been a long time since he was with someone, it had been a long time since he's been desperately wanting Cassie again. But as eager as he was, he didn't know how far her was allowed to go with her tonight. So, he kept his hands from wandering too much until he had her go ahead. He broke the kiss, moving his lips down her jawline and down her neck, nipping here and there at the skin.

Cassie let out a quiet hum as her back pressed into the cool tile and his lips were being drug down her jawline, her eyes fluttering slightly. It was nice, it felt good and for the first time in a long while, she was actually embracing the sudden attraction she was feeling for him. That didn't mean she wasn't nervous for what all this meant though. "Did you hear that?" Cassie breathed out, almost in a whine and a little paranoid. "... Was that Claire? Please tell me it's my imagination."

Jan 's lips began moving over Cassie's collarbone around the time she mentioned hearing something. He pulled back and tried to hear over the sound of the water to see if there was something making noise outside of the bathroom. "I didn't hear anything," he said, looking back over at her. "I can check if you want?"

Cassie made a little face though let out a little groan at the feeling alone. "... I think I'm just paranoid." She breathed out and moved to cover up her face. "God, I'm naked in a shower with you and I'm freaking paranoid about our infant."

Jan couldn't help but laugh when she got embarrassed. "No, no...it's ok. You're just being a good, kind of overly worried mom," he said, reaching up to pull her hands away from her face. "I can go check on Claire and then come right back and we'll do whatever you want...ok? Do you want that?"

Cassie smoothed her lips together and sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, her eyes moving down over his body before back up toward his face. "Yeah... Yeah, okay. That works."

Jan help in his laughter this time, nodding his head. He leaned in to give her a quick kiss before he got out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist as he moved out of the bathroom. First, he went to go check on Claire to make sure she was ok like he said he would. Then he grabbed the baby monitors, setting one up near her and bringing the other back to the bathroom, sitting it on the sink. "She's sleeping," he informed Cassie, taking the towel off and getting back into the shower. "Now what?"

Cassie twisted back around and immediately moved underneath the actual spray of the water, letting the warmth swarm within her blonde hair and around her skin. "So I was paranoid?" She breathed out after a moment when she heard him come back in, before slowly turning around to step up and press closer to him. "Do we really need a plan?"

Jan "A little," he laughed, a little too amused about the situation then he probably should be. He smirked once she was pressed against him, his arms moving to wrap around her body. "No, we don't," he answered, leaning in to press his lips against hers.

Cassie "Can you blame me?" She laughed out softly and moved her hands up to his neck and stroked over his skin, before leaning up on her toes to kiss him again, arms moving around his neck. "This feels good..."

Jan shrugged his shoulders lightly. "No. Though...I wonder why. Are you nervous?" He asked, kind of serious. He could understand if she was given the fact that last time they did something together, she got pregnant. "You're easy to please, aren't you?" He teased between kisses.

Cassie "I think so, but like.. oh God, not because of... you know... last time... I don't know why." She breathed out as she began to kiss him deeper and harder, before immediately pulling back and lightly pushing on his chest. "Shut up!"

Jan was actually impressed that she so easily admitted to being nervous. For some reason, he expected her to try to lie her way out of that. He smiled into the kiss, pulling her closer against him until she pulled back and pushed him. "I was joking," he laughed, moving back in closer to her. "Listen, if you're nervous, we can take this...whatever this is slow..."

Cassie moved half back into the stream of the water with her teeth buried in the inside of her lip, eyeing over him once she had the chance, unable to help it. "What is this?"

Jan watched her as she back away a little further, not that she was ever beyond his reach in the small shower. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I think if we were defining this by social media standards we'd be an 'It's Complicated'," he added to lighten it up a little.

Cassie came a bit closer once again so she could reach out and move her fingers over his forearms, then biceps. "Okay, Mr. Funny Guy." She laughed. "But slow, really? I mean... I may be nervous but we also already have a kid together."

Jan glanced down at her fingers on his arm before looking back to her, smirking a bit as he moved in closer. "Alright, so...slow is off the table," he breathed out, moving his hands to her waist and pulling her against him. "What else?"

Cassie kept her eyes on the movement of her own fingers and shrugged. "I don't think physical contact is... you know... completely off the table. We have needs, right?"

Jan slowly nodded his head, though he wasn't completely sure what limits she was setting just yet. "Alright. So...not completely off the table but some is. So, what? How far can we go?"

Cassie "I'm not saying that is totally off the table..." Cassie breathed out and scrunched her nose up just a bit. "I don't want to be a warm body."

Jan furrowed his eyebrows together at her, quickly shaking his head. "You're not and you won't ever be. Not to me," he promised, wrapping his arms around her gently and pressing his lips against her forehead in hopes of reassuring her.

Cassie slid her eyes closed for a split second before she spoke. "Then we can figure he boundaries out tomorrow," She whispered before tilting her chin up and catching his lips again, hand moving to his jaw and making the kiss a little harder, much more needy this time.

Jan perked up a bit, liking her idea a lot more than his taking it slow one. His hands moved to the sides of her face, keeping here there as he kissed her back, pushing her against the wall once again to press in closer against her.

Cassie let out a tiny whimper at the cool tile against her warm skin and his body against her own, nibbling on his bottom lip. Moving her smaller hand to his side, she slowly moved it down before brushing up against his lower stomach.

Jan smirked as she nibbled at his lip, kissing her harder than before. His own hands moved down her body, exploring her curves as her hand moved over his stomach. He moved one of his hands down to her thigh, tugging her leg up lightly against him.

Cassie groaned at the initial movement and arched the curve of her spine so her body could be closer to his own. "God," she grumbled as her hips ground up into his, eventually moving her fingers down over his length.

Jan pulled back from the kiss as her fingers moved around him, letting out a soft, breathy moan. He moved his lips down to the crook of her neck, peppering her with light kisses.

Cassie did her best not to get too excited and over do anything but also couldn't help it, letting out a soft bubbly moan from the back of her threat. Her small fingers continued to pump over and over again, this time grinding her hips down against his, groaning.

[debbieker-blog]

Practice Challenge 1 (1º part)

Calm before the storm

*knock knock knock knock knock* I heard the sound digging in my ears. Who dares to bother me so early, today?  *knock knock knock knock knock*   Oh, no! This can’t be happening “Wake up, Debbie! It’s getting late” Is that Keelan? He’s so death! I groaned and deep my head in my pillow. Why wasn’t I a single daughter? Despite my groaning he didn’t give up “Please, Deborah!” He shouts again desperately He can be so annoying sometimes.  “Get out, Kee! Today is my free day” “I know, sis, but I really need your help” What can he possibly need at 6:00 in the morning? “I can’t believe that you can’t survive one morning without me!”  I shouted back to him. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, counting down from 10 to 1 and take a deep breathe, but Keelan is persistent “… I made coffee and breakfast for you” he said triumphantly and almost singing the words “Alright…” I shrieked, giving up “ … just wait for me downstairs and stop pressuring me.” I leave my bed still groaning and with blur vision. I’m definitely not a morning person, plus I have to stop sleeping so late.  I took a shower and got dressed really quickly, carried Latte, my little rabbit, out of his cage and run downstairs. I found Keelan sitting in the kitchen with the breakfast already served on the table. I can’t even describe the smell, just … delicious. There were some eggs, bacon, fresh milk, cheese and a cup of coffee.

 We have a two floors house in the middle of a big farm in Sota. My dad is the owner and he gives jobs to a lot of people on it, he’s always there to supervise and administrate every activity realized there. My brother and I are still learning, my father tries to pay some economic and administrative lessons to professor Dent, so we can be more prepared. The professor comes to our house twice or three times per month. Dad also made us do some hard work on the farm, because he says that to give orders we must know how things should be done. So, we have to get up early to help a little with the stables or to supervise the milk production, drive the balers or preparing the food for the animals in the barn. I don’t mind doing all those things, but I honestly prefer to do the administrative part, supervising or dealing with the distributors and marketers. Almost everything we eat is milked, recollected or reaped from our farm and we also the distributors take our products to almost all the stores in the province.  Sota is a really nice place to live, it has a small city in the South, but we live in a town in the North. I love living here, because we have the most beautiful natural landscapes, and most of the people are friendly, of course the are always exceptions to broke the rule. There’s a group of rebels that live in the edges of our province, I don’t know much about them, all I know is that they go around asking/stealing  for money and provisions, that’s why sometimes our animals and tools are missing. Well, I guess there’s no a perfect province. 

My brother was eating and writing (what seems like a letter) at the same time. He sensed my presence when I entered the room “What did it take you so long, Debs? I’m going to be late” He complained without taking his eyes from the letter. “Late? What do you mean? Where are you going? Don’t tell me I’m going to stay here doing your job, while you go to see your girlfriend, again!” I moaned behind the freezer’s door searching for some lettuce to feed Latte. I turned around to face Keelan and he was smiling at me and winking repeatedly with his enormous eyelashes. I have always envy those.  He knows that I can’t say no to him. I love my brother, we have a beautiful brother-sister relationship, and we tell each other everything, no secrets. But things weren’t always that way.

 I was born when he was 6 years old, and he didn’t want a sister, so he was never close to me. 8 years later my mother died and our father was so depressed that he became this tight-lipped man. Keelan and I had to get close to each other to get through all the pain.  Keelan is annoying sometimes, always dreaming about his impossible love, Stephanie Douglas, she’s a 6 and we are 4’s. She’s a lovely waitress in an Italian restaurant. The government decided that those are enough reasons to complicate the marriage process plus, I doubt my dad is going to approve. He isn’t a bad person, but all parents want the best for their sons and to marry a girl of a lower caste isn’t exactly a step forward. My dad love us, he doesn’t say it much or he never say it, but we know it, because despite all the pain he still keeps inside and refuses to let go, he work hard every day to give us the life we have. We aren’t rich, but we have a decent life because of him.

 As soon as my brother finished the letter, he kissed me in my forehead, promised he won’t take long and run out of the house. I finished my breakfast and started my way to the stables to start the job. I cleaned there, fed and brushed the horses, I don’t mind doing that, I love horses, I have won a few rodeo competitions with my horse Ristretto, my friends always tell me that I should practice equestrianism professionally, but I haven’t had the time. I have been part of some sport teams in town, like basketball and baseball, I have even been a cheerleader, but now I have to focus on the farm work. When I was about to finished, Kee arrived, almost floating in the sky with a big smile “You see? I told you I won’t be long gone. Now you are free to go and do what you want” He sighed and let his arms dropped “Well, I wanted to sleep more this morning, don’t think that with a simple breakfast you had paid that debt” I replied reaching for a straw bush to sit down for a while  “I have to meet the guys downtown in 15 minutes, so see you later, Kee” I put two fingers on my forehead and then pointed him with them to say goodbye and then walked away through the straw fields. “Say hello to the potpourri squad for me” he shouted. I smiled at the name he gave to us. He said it is because is weird to find a group of friends composed by guys from different castes.

When I was about to arrive downtown I walked nearer to the road, and that’s when I saw him, again. Waiting for the school bus, was Professor Reed Dent, Professor’s Dent son. A tall, handsome, black haired man. Honestly this isn’t the first time I’ve noticed him, every time I walk to downtown at this hour he is there, in the same place. I always stare at him for a few seconds, I can’t help it, I don’t know if he has ever sense it, but unfortunately, he has never saw me back. All the girls of the province have a crush on him. I don’t think I’m included. I just think he is a good looking man, that’s all. Plus he’s always focused on his job, he’s my brother’s age and he’s a 3.

 This cast system is so lame, why do we have to be separated by a number or a profession? We are not dolls, we are human beings that should have the choice to marry whoever we want or have the job we prefer. I have always wanted to be a dancer or a singer, but I so not have that talent, my friend Trish is a 5 and she have taught me some dance moves, but I’m more of random awkward dancing than profesional steps.

I was thinking about that all my way down to the town and I haven’t realized that I was already at the ice-cream shop. There wasn’t anyone there yet so I sat on one of the benches placed outside. Suddenly a noisy voice burst my cloud of thoughts. “An ice-cream for your thoughts!” Sophie shouted making a long hop in front of me. “Chicks! Sophia! Don’t do that, you scared me to death!” I scolded “Ugh! Always exaggerating” She sit beside me “Come on, Debs! Tell me what were you thinking” “I was just trying to remember if I fed Ristretto before I left the farm” Seriously, Deborah? you couldn’t think in something better? Sophie didn’t buy that, as I expected, but she didn’t insist, she just laughed hard at me instead “Only for this time I will pretend I believed you” she said pointing me with a finger. I couldn’t tell her the truth because she was going to start asking why I was thinking about castes right now, and if I tell her that it was because I was thinking about Reed she was going to make a big deal out of It, even if I tell her that I’m not even interested in him in that way or any other.

 Sophia is a 2, an 18-year-old, tanned skin, brown eyed and curly haired model, my neighbor and my best friend. She’s nothing like the pretentious twos and threes around there, looking at people over their shoulders… well, yes, she is, but not with us. We met each other when we were 8 years old. That day, I was playing around the barn, when I heard someone crying inside of it. I entered and I found a girl crying and hiding behind a bunch of straw, she had run away from home, because her parents were fighting. That day we played together and she had dinner with us, my father scolded her back to her home. When he came back home, he told us that her parents haven’t even noticed she was gone. Since then, when Sophie isn’t working at the runway or in photoshoots she expends her time in our house. “…So where are the others?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. Sophie looked at me suspiciously for a few seconds but she decided to keep her word, so he turned his head and looked away with me   “There they come” She said covering her face from the sun with his left hand  “Hey, you guys, can’t you walk any calmer?!” I raged sarcastically “What’s the rush?” James replied shrugging his shoulders   “We can hardly make our free days coincide to see each other and you dare wasting time that we can use to catch up!” Sophie scolded James run and kissed Sophie on the cheek “Don’t worry more, I’m here already to stop your suffering” He said giving her a playful smile “HA HA! Very funny.” Sophie cleaned her cheek with her sleeve immediately “I’m so happy to see you, guys!” Trisha sobbed giving us a long hug. “I missed you too, Trish! I hope your shows are going good” I asked concerned “Well, you know this time of the year is not easy to get good jobs, but we are doing fine so far” she answered. I smiled concerned.

We had delicious ice cream and good laughs, catching up with our lives. When it was about to get dark we realized it was time to get back to reality. Trisha stood up - Sorry guys, but I’m afraid is time for me to go back, home, I have a long way to walked - “I can walk you home if you want” James offered “That would be nice, thank you Jimmy” Trisha accepted shyly. I looked at James giving him a sarcastic smile. He blushed “Can I stay at your place, Debs?” Sophie pleaded “I guess I have no choice” I said rounded my eyes, pretending to be annoyed We said goodbye to each other and walk away in different directions

 Sophie and I arrived home, have some dinner and then went upstairs to my room. We put music on and played some poker on the bed.

… “… Aaand, between you and me, what do you think about what Trish did?” Sophie finally asked, giving me a curious look. “What do you mean?” I knew what she meant, in fact I was wondering when she was going to come out with that subject. The invitations have been sent days ago. I saw mine on the mail table yesterday. The whole thing gives me a strange feeling of uncertainty, like when you know you have to think about something important but you always keep it aside. There’s a what if? I never let stay in my mind for anything or anyone. “Deborah, you know what I mean” her eyes darted at me. She sighed and continued …the fact that she applied to the selection thing “Well, I hope she get chosen... honestly, I’ve never thought properly about The Selection. My dad has never talked to me about it, so…” “Or about anything else” Sophie murmured interrupting me I looked down “Don’t start! … What about you? Are you applying?”  She relaxed and lay on the bed for a while, thoughtful “You know I love luxury and facilities, plus wearing a crown as an accessory is something that every girl in the world have dreamed of, also, the prince is GORgeous!” I nodded with widened my eyes “…but you know I love my freedom more than anything or anyone in this world. I could never live in that palace, imprisoned by all that power and responsibilities.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean… I wouldn’t mind about that, I don’t see the power as a curse, it could be used to make a change and to help this country to grow… I just… I don’t think I could ever have a chance, I mean thousands of girls are applying to this, and they pick the names randomly! What are the chances?! … So, why should I bother?” I replied shrugging my shoulders. She pressed her lips together and then incorporated to sit on the bed “You know what, Debbie? … It wouldn’t hurt you to dream a little” She said putting a hand on mine as a sign of support. I smirked and chuckled at that phrase.  I have always been the realistic girl, the one with her feet on the ground in front of the others, but I do have projects on my own, I mean I’m not like my brother always dreaming and thinking about love, but I have plans, it’s just that marrying a prince is going too far. We remain silence for a while but then we go back to the game.

 “I got this one” Sophie shouted excited throwing her four of a kind, nines on the bed “I wouldn’t be so sure” I whispered triumphantly and showing her my five-high straight flush of diamonds. She banged her fist on the bed “Ugh! I can’t believe this! You have been practicing in my absence, haven’t you?” She said looking at me with accusing eyes. “What are you talking about? I have always been better than you!” I winked at her “Oh, are you sure?” she fought back with an evil smile. Oh God, I hate that look, is her challenged look, and I’m so not a goose, likely I will accept it. “Let’s make this more interesting, then” she suggested. We both are women of our word, that’s why we don’t make bets often, but it is a bet what is coming now. She continued “… We play the last hand and the one who loses will fill the application letter to enter to the selection thing” She lifted and eyebrow and extended a hand for me to shake and close the deal. I hesitate for a second, I know this is an important thing, but on second thought, I would never get picked, so there’s nothing to lose. I shake her hand   “Deal” … What I have done?

(To be continued...)

[theprisonerofasgard]

captain-outoftime‌:

Steve had been wandering the West for a while now. He’d come over with his father and a few cousins, but quickly decided he didn’t like their style. Maybe it made them money, but Steve couldn’t live with himself if he was picking off families. Killing women, kids, even. No material possession could be worth the cost of that blood.

He mostly moved by himself, worked odd jobs here and there to keep himself and his horse fed, but the skillset he’d acquired meant he didn’t have to worry much there. A family living out on a ranch had asked for some help picking off a wolf pack that had been feasting on their cattle, in exchange for some money and board for a week or so. Steve was just getting back from stalking a few of the beasts when the O’Driscolls came.

He had no idea who they were at first - one gang of murderous bastards was the same to him as any other. Steve fought them as best he could, damn near got himself killed trying to give the family a shot at getting out alive.

They made him an offer. He’d put up a decent fight, they said. He could ride with them, if he wanted to live.

“Just be a man,” Steve growled, “and kill me.”

“You’re our kinsman,” one of them had said, faux scandalized, “we can’t kill you in cold blood, can we now.”

But they could let Steve’s blood go cold on its own. That’s what they told him when they stripped him of his shirt and boots and tied him to a rusted-through engine.

“Just put a bullet in my head. You filthy cowards ain’t got the stomach for it?”

They laughed. They laughed as they walked away and left him to freeze to death in the frigid night. Steve was determined not to make a sound, but he wasn’t prepared for the pain. He’d thought freezing would be gentler. The eventual numbness didn’t come easy, only after hours of knife-pricking chill creeping inch by agonizing inch up his fingers, his feet. The violent shivers that wracked his frame did little to warm him. Please. Please, just let me die. Fire was obvious in its destruction. Brutal, but honest. Ice was twisted in its violence. Sadistic, cruel.

The sudden sound of the door being wrenched open made him hope they were coming to do the right thing and shoot him like a lame horse.

But it was someone new. A tall man with dark hair and a sharp smile was…cutting him loose?

“Not with them,” he managed to chatter out. He knew that his accent might make the two suspect him, but he sincerely hoped the frostbite and bruises would serve as enough proof.

Steve gratefully pulled the warm coat and boots on, hugging the blanket around himself as he tried to gather his scattered wits enough to figure out what was going on. “Thank’ya.” He was still shaking, but he was trying to keep it together. A wrong move could send him right back to that cold corner to die a horrible death. “Who are you with?”

      "I'd be a fool not to suspect, you realize," Loki said airily as he led the man past the many bodies outside, "But perhaps Arthur's runaway O'Driscoll can shed some light on the mystery that is you. And darling, should you decide to crush my throat, do know your only options left would be to wait for Colm's wrath, or die in the snow."

Colm O’Driscoll was as sadistic as he was greedy. 

A silver Turkoman whinnied and tossed its head anxiously at the sight of Steve, no doubt the beast's owner. A firm arm prevented the man from going to the horse and instead guided him to Loki's.

      "You haven't the strength. Ride with me, we will lead yours. Aevi loves handsome men, she will be most gentle."

Aevi was a beautiful and gleaming Arabian horse, black as midnight. She shook the snow from her hide as Loki took the Turkoman’s reigns in his hands and led her calmly to her owner.

      “I am with Dutch Van der Linde’s merry band of misfits. I must say, my intuition is seldom wrong, but considering your heritage and your clearly stolen horse, he will not be so readily convinced of your innocence.”

Despite his words, he carefully helped the Irishman climb onto the back of Aevi before hoisting himself into the saddle with the Turkoman’s reigns in hand. The Brit knew his horses, and the mystery man’s was a cross between a race breed and a war breed. The gleaming animal would cost at least $950 at any respectable stable. He pushed that thought aside as he urged Aevi to a trot with the Turkoman in tow.

      “I’m Loki. Have you a name?”

The mining camp the Van der Linde gang had taken refuge in was abuzz with Arthur’s return. The pair arrived just in time for Dutch to grab Arthur’s captured O’Driscoll and tug him harshly before the approaching horses.

      “There he is, meet our new friend. Kieran Duffy, the O’Driscoll. Now- now who the hell is this on the back of your horse?”

Dutch had the same raven hair as Loki, and a voice and body language that all but oozed charisma. He commanded everyone’s attention absolutely, and his eyes narrowed at the bruised, shivering stranger. Loki handed Steve the reigns to his own horse casually as he answered.

      “He tells me he is not an O’Driscoll, and you know I can taste when men lie. I believe him. This creature, however...” A pale hand seized Kieran’s chin as two more men held his arms. A dagger-sharp smirk cut across Loki’s features as he turned Kieran’s jaw to face Steve.

      “Do you know this man? Is he one of Colm’s hired guns?”

      “He’s some ranch hand, I don’t know!” Kieran struggled against the hands that bound him, “they brought him beat up to camp last night after they raided some farm and locked him up. I heard someone say they was gonna freeze him til he broke, I think folks wanted him to join. I don’t even know his name, okay, I don’t know anything!”

      “Well,” Dutch chuckled, raising his hands in disbelief, “my friend, you sure know a lot for someone who doesn’t know anything.”

Those magnetic eyes turned on Steve, whom he beckoned to come closer.

      “I got a sayin’, my friends. We shoot fellas, as need shootin’. Save fellas, as need savin’, and feed ‘em, as need feedin.’ We are gonna find out - what you need.” Dutch’s eyes had been locked on Kieran before he turned away with a laugh. “I can’t BELIEVE it! An O’Driscoll! In MY camp!”

Loki hitched the horses during the leader’s speech and gently tugged Steve along by the arm.

      “You aren’t in chains, but that was only the first trial of many. He trusts my judgement, but his hatred for Colm O’Driscoll runs wide, and it runs deep. It will be a great while before Dutch will accept you.” He guided the beaten man into one of the smaller buildings, where a dark-skinned man was stoking a fire to life. He nodded to Loki, although Steve held his gaze.

      “Hello, Charles. This one was shown the full breadth of O’Driscoll hospitality, but the others are likely unconvinced that he was not among their ranks. You’ve always trusted my judgement, will you watch over him as well?”

Charles gave Steve searching look before he simply nodded.

      “Of course, Loki. He’ll be safe with me.”

The Brit wasted little time piling what little spare clothing he had onto the frozen Irishman and pushing him down firmly onto his own cot.

      “Sleep,” Loki commanded gently as he tugged a ragged deerskin over Steve’s frame. “Your body needs to heal. We have little food to spare -- the only thing you may do for it now is sleep.”

Red Dead