#but also like don’t let it impact your job girly

[captainsantiagos]

Just thinking about how Lucy could and SHOULD be feral for the next few episodes because if all the shit she’s been through in the last 6 episodes happened to me I’d be making it everyone’s problem.

[thechekhov]

Hi! I saw on a post that you're agender and I'm kinda questioning my gender (again) but what interested me more about that post was that you said you believe that gender is a social construct and I'm not really familiar with that theory. I was wondering if you could explain to me what the whole idea is? (bc I kinda only feel like a have a gender in social situations? In my head, my dreams and how I picture myself in the future, I'm genderless idjskahwksjejensj) Sorry for bothering you if I did.

This is a BIG topic and it opens a LOT of wormholes. 

We’re gonna do this in pie slice statements that will hopefully help explain what I mean. Please keep in mind I’m going to simplify many things for the sake of readability.

1) What is a social construct? 

Social constructs are ideas that are negotiated by social groups. Something being a social construct does not make it ‘not real’. 

For example, money is a social construct. Yes, we have cash - coins, credit cards - but these are physical props that are REPRESENTATIVE of the idea of currency. You have some form of credit to your name - the money is a socially agreed-upon idea of value being represented by bills in your hand, by numbers in your bank account. 

[Description: Two humanoid figures are standing side by side. The right-side figure is holding a rock in its hand. 

Right side figure: Let’s agree that this shiny rock is worth 2 sheep.

Left side figure: Sounds fake but ok.]

Technically, countries are also social constructs. We, as a society, negotiate what a country is, and this can be changed.

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of a dotted line drawn on the ground. The left figure is pointing down at it while the right figure watches, its arms crossed.

Left figure: Let’s pretend that everything on this side of the imaginary line is mine.

Right figure: ...ok but my house is over there.

Left figure: ... for 3 shiny rocks you can come visit.]

Does that mean canada isn’t real? No. (I mean, obviously canada ISN’T real, but we all agree to pretend it is.) The thing that makes it real is that we are in agreement, and all follow the social rules of pretend to make it seem like the Canadian border, the idea of Canadian citizenship, etc... is an objective fact. (It’s not. These are in fact, negotiable limits and parameters. We have laws in place to define it in legal terms, but those laws can be changed, or may change in the minds of communities. That’s why it’s a construct.)

By that same token, I hold the view that gender, as we largely perceive it in modern society, is a construct. Why? Because it is not inherent; we, as a society, negotiate its meaning. 

2) What is gender? 

People will probably fight me on this and that’s fine, but here’s my (simplified) understanding of gender (from someone who personally has none)

Gender is a social category negotiated by cultures based on your assigned or desired role in your community that influences, among many other things, your physical appearance, your role in family units, your expected position in jobs, etc. 

How I think it happened:

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of the panel, both holding children-looking figures. The one on the left is wearing purple. The one on the right is wearing green.

Green figure: Hey, I’ve got an idea. What if we separate the babies into two groups based on physical traits they have no control over?

Purple figure: Wh-- okay...?

Green figure: And then limit the jobs they can do and the community ritual involvement available to them based on that!

Purple figure: ... I feel like this is going to backfire on us someday.

Green figure: Nah, it’ll be fine.

The past panel is a dramatic closeup on the purple figure’s face - which is featureless - betraying a deeply doubtful emotion. It says nothing.]

Important points to remember: what gender looks like, what the limits are, what the expectations are... are not inherent to any human biology. We make up gender roles. This is evident in the fact that across the world, gender roles differ by culture. The positions people of a certain gender are allowed to take up are different. What is perceived to be ‘girly’ or ‘boyish’ is different across cultures. 

Simply speaking - currently the (western) model we have, dumbed down, is:

You are assigned male at birth because of physical characteristics

You are raised being told to ‘toughen up’ and ‘boys don’t cry’ and encouraged not to show emotions

You are taught to wear male-coded clothes and discouraged from female-coded fashion choices

You are given more opportunities to participate in sports, encouraged to engage in physical activity, etc

You are not expected to need time off for child-rearing 

Here’s where gender as it works in society breaks down into being not a real thing but instead something we thought up: 

Nothing about having a penis necessitates wearing pants. Nothing about having XY chromosomes means you need to keep your hair short. Nothing about your genome makes the experience of nail-polish different for any human being. 

All of these are arbitrary traits we decided were allowed or not allowed to a specific group of people based on entirely unrelated physiology. 

Even if we delve deeper, there is MORE variation among individuals of the same ‘sex’ than there are, on average, of members of the ‘opposite sex’ when compared to each other. 

Many people use the excuse ‘women are physically not as strong as men’ to say that this has an evolutionary aspect driving these cultural, historical, socially-constructed gender requirements. 

But if there was a physical reasoning behind the culturally-set gender-limited job expectations, then we actually WOULDN’T need a traditional binary gender system to sort ourselves into categories. It would simply be decided as a meritocracy - stronger individuals, regardless of gender, would be given physically-demanding jobs. (Also we know that many jobs thought to be ‘traditionally male’ are just the result of sexist bullshit, so this reasoning doesn’t fly any further than I can throw it which is, coincidentally, not very far. Politics is one such area. Doctors are another. We can go on but I think you get my drift.)

My own example of this is an anecdote when my grandparents came to visit my partner and I in Japan. While we were driving down to Tokyo, my grandmother - who has a PhD in entomology - began to say that driving is a masculine activity and women shouldn’t be driving as it was ‘un-woman-like’. My partner almost immediately fired back that in Japan, studying insects or having any interest in them whatsoever was considered a heavily masculine-coded activity. In Russia, there is no such assignment, and my grandmother was left silently blinking in confusion, unable to come up with any excuse except ‘well, all cultures are different, I suppose...’

Do either of these things inherently have a gendered aspect? Of course not! But we assign gendered ideals to them anyway.

3) If gender is made up and constructed by society, then does that mean trans people aren’t real?

No.

Even if you agree that gender is a social construct, trans people are still real. TERFs don’t get a pass. Why? 

Because gender - as a social construct - still affects our everyday lives, dictates our social position in our community. Transitioning is still a thing that has to happen. The fact that you are NOT easily able to decide your own gender and are ostracized for wanting to transition, abused for dressing the way you want to be perceived, and bullied for wanting people to refer to you with different pronouns - all those are the effects of a social construct that has very REAL impact on our lives.

This is also why I dislike defining trans-ness by dysphoria. Because transgender people are not only their suffering - the suffering is coming from the outside!! Many trans people remember not being concerned about their gender identity in their childhood, because they did not yet perceive the world as being hostile to their desire to fulfil a specific role in society. The issues and self-hatred and dysphoria begins when they express wanting to be themselves - a life which they are forbidden from pursuing based on physical characteristics they were born with.

Does this mean we should try to remove gender from society? If we constructed it, we can deconstruct it, right?

Realistically, I highly doubt this is possible. Gender is so ingrained in our daily lives that it would be difficult. Nor, I would say, would it be necessary to achieve world peace. 

Having social groups - having gender - isn’t inherently a bad thing. The bad thing is when we limit those social groups to specific basic human rights, like voting, or when we forbid them from transitioning from one to another based on things that are out of their control. 

Also, I’m not saying genitals and secondary sexual characteristics aren’t real. Please don’t bother sending me that angry message, I’ll ignore it, I promise. 

But the concept of gender IS something we thought up and maintain and negotiate with each other to this very day. It’s not granted to us by a higher power, nor is it a constant, unchanging thing. It’s a part of the human experience and like everything, it has the potential to evolve - as a concept in our communal memory, as well as on an individual level, for people who feel they want to be perceived differently. 

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk!

[dissociativedaydream]

Soft - Part 2

Pairing: Bossk x Vertani!reader (read more about Vertani here)

Word Count: ~2.3K

Tags: reader gets kidnapped, brief mentions of blood, protective & soft!Bossk toward the end

A/N: this is to help establish backstory, no smut in this one (probably will be in the next)

< Part 1

You stretched slowly, a sleepy croak leaving your throat. It was still dark out and you sat up, wondering what had woken you. Bossk had been gone on and off for the past few months, he was in the middle of a job right now and you weren’t expecting him back for another week.

Sitting there you strained your ears, the quiet ring of the apartment was all you could hear. It was unusual for you to wake without reason but you figured maybe it was the horror holofilm you had watched before bed.

Laying back down you closed your eyes. A few moments pass when you hear a knock on the front door. Your heart pounded. Of the few friends you’d made, they knew better than to show up without calling. Especially at night. And Bossk had the keycode to the door.

You grab your blaster from its spot on your bedside table and walk to the door. Glancing through your viewport you huffed. The hell was he doing here?

“Dad?” You asked as you open the door.

He pushes past you without so much as acknowledging you. You rolled your eyes as you close the door and put your blaster away.

“Where’s your husband?” Your father finally spoke.

What do you care?

“He’s working. Why?” You put on a robe over your PJs, feeling weirdly defensive for being in your own space but dad also did that to a lot of people.

“You need to come home.” His back was to you when you walked back out to the living room.

Fear hit you, he sounded scared. Something bad must’ve happened.

“Why? Is there something wrong with mom or sis?”

“No they’re okay.” His voice was emotionless, which wasn’t terribly unusual for him when he was sober but something about it now unsettled you.

Outside of them requiring help, you couldn’t imagine what he could possibly want you to return for. It’s not like he had acknowledged you even before your betrothal.

“Your marriage needs to be nullified.” He spoke in the same tone, still not looking at you.

You snorted. Yeah, no. That wasn’t happening. Even if you wanted it to, because of Vertani rules, you couldn’t divorce him until the three-year mark. Before you could reply though your father continued.

“That damned Cradossk double-crossed me.”

“Wait what? I thought you said he was supposed to leave you alone after your debt was paid.” Your eyes narrowed, for a man who liked talking shit about Trandoshans he was doing his best to be wrapped up in their business.

“Your marriage to Bossk was supposed to secure me a share of the Guild’s earnings.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes were bloodshot and there were dark bags under them.

“I’m sorry that the other kids aren’t playing nice,” you couldn’t help but be snarky at your father’s entitlement. “But I’m happy and no longer belong to your family so you’ll need to figure out another way to piss off your investments.”

“No girlie, you’re coming home with me.” With that, your father turned around revealing he was holding his own blaster.

Shit.

You freeze, as shitty as your father was you didn’t see this coming at all. Your brain blanks out momentarily until he moves toward you which causes you to turn to retrieve your own blaster. Before you can grab it, you feel a tug on the back of your robe.

No, no, no. There was no way you were going back there.

You pulled at the robe’s tie allowing you to shrug it off and reaching your comm that was next to your blaster before your father was able to grab you and pull you away. Thinking fast you press the button to transmit to the last person you spoke with.

“Bossk, help-!”

There was a sudden pain in the back of your head that surprised you enough to release the commlink. He hit you with his blaster! Another crack came down and as you felt the warmth radiating from the impact you blacked out.

~

Coming to you were upset to notice that you were bundled in furs, your sister’s angry voice was loud and right above you. She was chewing dad out for kidnapping you. Your head was pounding as you tentatively opened your eyes to see unfortunately familiar surroundings. Damn it.

Groaning you push yourself to sit up, a wave of dizziness and nausea causing you to waiver. Your hand goes to the back of your head, you can feel warm wetness. Bringing your hand to your face you can see the dark red color of your own blood. That’s not good.

“Easy there, how are you feeling?” Your sister wraps an arm around your shoulders before you’re able to fall back into the bed.

Your voice is muffled by your hands as you cover your mouth, willing the bile climbing your throat to disappear. “You mean other than royally pissed off?”

Your sister snorted before turning back to your father who was standing by the entrance of the tent.

“You’re an idiot. A bonified idiot. You kidnapped her!” She continued berating him. “You said yourself that Trandoshans are dangerous. Now you’ve kidnapped the wife of one. A really well-known bounty hunter to boot!”

“She’s my daughter!” Father snapped back.

“You married her off!” Your sister snapped back.

You snorted, recalling what he had said back at the apartment. “Not really. He sold me.”

That caused your sister to pause. “What do you mean?”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. As fond of Bossk as you’d grown, the realization that your flesh and blood gave you to him just for a share of bounties from his father broke your heart. You really were better off with a feared bounty hunter than your own dad.

You recounted what your father had said and your sister’s eyes grew wide. While marriages were often used to create alliances and gain resources it’s very rarely done for just money. It was pretty insulting.

Your father tried to dissipate the tension, motioning to your sister’s belly which you just realized was swollen. “High blood pressure isn’t good for the baby, your husband won’t be pleased if you jeopardize it.”

A baby! Momentarily you forgot the situation you were in and reached toward your sister, stopping short of her stomach. She didn’t glance down, she was busy still glaring daggers at your father, but pulled your outreached hand to her belly.

“The baby will be fine. You on the other hand need to get out before I do something we’ll all regret.” She growled.

Your father took the opportunity to disappear back out of the tent. Both of you sat quietly for a little bit before you interrupted, hand still on your sister’s stomach.

“When are you due?”

She gave a bitter laugh, “that’s a great question. The doctors can’t tell if it’s more Clawdite or more Vertani so we’ll see.”

You smiled as you sat back on the bed, dizziness hitting you again. Clutching your head you glance around, hoping your stay here would be brief.

“Can you call Bossk? I think I dropped my commlink when dad grabbed me.”

“I already asked hubby to call when dad told me what he did. I’ll go check and see if he answered.” Your sister paused next to you, running her fingers through your hair like she used to do when you were little.

She traced a finger down your forehead and stopped at the peak of your nose. A brief pang of sadness hit you, as much as you hated it here you missed your sister something fierce. But now she had other priorities to keep her busy, you sighed as you watched her leave the tent.

Now that you were alone the fog that was clouding your mind seemed to get thicker. The nausea had subsided but you were tired. You didn’t know if it was a good idea but the cold from outside was seeping into your tent, encouraging you to bundle yourself and sleep. Maybe when you wake up Bossk will be here.

~

“Aye, wake up sunshine.”

Not Bossk. You groaned, covering your head with the closest blanket.

“C’mon, you need to eat something.” His voice held a chuckle to it.

“Where’s your wife?”

“I dunno but she’s going to kill me if I don’t get you to eat.” Your brother-in-law quipped, you glanced at him to see him glance over his shoulder. “Unless your husband beats her to it.”

“Did he answer?”

“Yeah, he was already on the way here, I guess you sent him a message before your dad knocked you out.” He sat on the edge of the bed, holding out a piece of food to you.

You hummed, you only vaguely remembered reaching for the commlink but you’re glad you were able to do something to alert him. There was no way he’d take returning to an empty apartment well, especially after your discussion about possibly joining him on future jobs. You wanted to join him to give your cycle a better chance at syncing with his but you didn’t want to openly tell him that was why. He was less keen on letting you tag along for obvious reasons so you had let it go.

“Anyway,” the Clawdite broke the silence, “he should be here pretty soon, your sister wanted to know if you wanted to borrow any clothes.”

You looked down, forgetting that you were wearing your PJs. No wonder you were so cold. T-shirts and shorts were not conducive to keeping you warm when this stupid planet was so damned cold.

There was a loud noise outside that sounded like a ship landing. Your brother-in-law popped up and checked.

“That’s him. Are you okay if I go get him?” He turned to look at you, concern knitted in his brows.

“Now that Bossk is here I’m probably the safest person on the planet.” You giggled.

He looks relieved before he ducks out of the tent. If it wasn’t for the foot of snow outside you would’ve just made for the ship.

You could hear shouting, your dad was really willing to get hurt over his own poor decision. A roar silenced the entire camp. Bossk was mad-mad.

The sound of snow crunching gave away his approach, it muffled his normally heavy footsteps but his gait was distinguishable. He stormed into the tent, wrapped in the cloak that you had given him the day you met. His eyes fell on you and his shoulder relaxed slightly.

“Come on little wife. Let’s get you back home.” His voice was more scratchy sounding than usual, probably raw from his angry roar.

You walked over to him, ready to embrace him but before you can he scoops you up into his arms. Bossk wasn’t one for much PDA so you were surprised as he stalked back to his ship still holding you.

“You’re going to regret that!” Your father was still going as the two of you approach the ship.

You were surprised to see three people and a droid standing between your dad and Bossk’s ship. One you recognized as the kid Bossk often looked out for, Boba Fett. The other two being you didn’t recognize, one looked like he was human and the other appeared to be a Theelin possibly.

“Get over it gramps,” Boba sneered. “I’m already pissed we had to derail this mission to come here. Keep threatening us and see what happens.”

You shrunk back as much as you could in Bossk’s arms. It didn’t occur to you that you had interrupted their mission, you just assumed that Bossk wouldn’t even check his messages from you until after all was said and done. His arms tightened around you as he passed your father but for once he made the smart decision and didn’t interfere.

“Let’sss go,” Bossk rasped, leading the small crew back onto the ship.

Boba glanced at you, concern flashing in his eyes briefly, he had followed Bossk to the living quarters while the others went to the cockpit. “Are you okay?”

You rubbed the back of your head, it was sore and throbbing a bit, you probably had a concussion but there was no need to worry any of them about it. You would need to shower to get the dried blood out of your hair.

“I’m alright.” You lied.

Bossk grumbled, bordering on a growl. “I can sssmell the blood. What did he do to you?”

Boba shot you an apologetic look before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you with your still pissed-off husband. Bossk lays you on his cot before sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry for disrupting your job.” You whispered, genuinely feeling guilty.

His gaze softened as he reached up to stroke your cheek, a rare moment of unadulterated affection.

“Well, you’re getting your wish to come on a mission.” He chuckled. “We’ll talk about what happened later.”

“Bossk!” A female voice rang down the hall. “We’re landing, give wifey a kiss and let’s go!”

You giggled as he sighed. “Latts is getting a kick out of this. You’ll be happy to know that she thinks you should come with usss too.”

He stood and you sat up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

“Ssstay here. You’ll be safe on the ship.”

You pout. He’s right of course and you’re definitely not dressed to be of any help but you hope that if he does relent and let you come on more that this won’t be the reoccurring theme.

Bossk does pause, seeing your face. He leaned over you to nuzzle your hair, an action he’d adopted as a goodbye to you.

You sigh as he leaves, laying back down onto the cot. At least he kept his ship warm. You wrapped yourself in his blanket, inhaling his scent. He smelled like musk and the forest, it was calming and you felt safe. Safe enough to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

< Part 1

[sweet-taiyaki]

His Sunflower (part 2) 🌻

Disclaimer: I didn’t really know where to go with part 2, but I hope you like it. And yes, there will be a third and final part.  

Pairing: ProHero!Eijiro Kirishima x Fem!Reader (she/her)

Featuring: Katsuki Bakugo (Ground Zero), Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: You saw Red Riot and Ground Zero live in action, but when you saw Ground Zero’s internal clock diminish, you got worried and wanted to save him. Kirishima admired your selflessness. 

Quirk: Life Vision. Can view anyone’s internal clock by their wrist.

Warnings: Violence, some language, mentions of blood, little fluff

Taglist: @ chaeringpop

part 1 [2] 3

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

I bowed to my superior and ended my shift. Sushi making is really starting to take a toll on my hands. I grab my coat and leave the restaurant.

“There you are,” Kirishima said, “How was your shift?”

“It was okay. You know you don’t have to walk me home every day. I can defeat villains like you with my eyes closed,” I said punching him.

“Alright, alright. Ow--that’s enough. You’ve just been so kind to me and I feel so manly around you,” he said.

“So I’m weak,” I joked.

“No—uh---no, not at all. I didn’t mean for you to perceive it that way. You’re strong and full of light like a sunflower!” he apologized.

“You’re cheesy,” I laughed.

“Come here, I wanted a (Y/N) hug all day,” he said with his arms open. He pulled away briefly to give me a soft peck. His kisses were so sweet and soft. I smiled as soon as he pulled away and he smiled back.

There were explosions and screams at a distance. Kirishima looks at me. “I have to go, but don’t worry I’ll be at your place after,” he said running in the opposite direction. I’ve never seen Red Riot and Ground Zero in live action before. He disappeared before I ran closer to the scene.

Kirishima charged at the villain with a punch. “It’s about time you showed up, shitty hair,” Bakugo barked. “You should have called me instead of taking on villains yourself,” Kirishima yelled back.

“HOWITZER IMPACT!” Ground Zero flew through the air sending an explosion tornado to the villain. The villain seems to create portals to escape their attacks. “Where is he? Die, portal man!” He appears near Red Riot.

“RED GAUNTLET!” Kirishima punches him into the brick wall that sent him flying. He transports again, over Ground Zero. Portal smashed Ground Zero into the ground. When Ground Zero tried to attack, Portal created an infinite portal to cause Bakugo to explode himself.

“Ground Zero,” I cried. Kirishima heard me and got distracted as Portal punched him, but his hardening anticipated the punch and punched him back. “(Y/N), get out of here! It’s not safe,” he yelled.

“Ground Zero’s clock,” I yelled. I escaped the police tape to rescue him. I was hovering over Ground Zero, looking at his wrist. His pulse is stable, but his internal clock was slowing dropping faster than normal. Kirishima was still battling the villain when I was aiding to Ground Zero. The villain noticed and engulfed me in his portal. “No!” Kirishima yelled. I fell through the portal and he closed it before Kirishima jumped.

Your POV

I was surrounded in a zero-gravity space in complete darkness. A purple ring opening came out. I floated over, hoping to escape, but it was a turn for the worst. I was in Portal’s lair. There were portals everywhere around the world that he could pop in at. Portal came into his lair. “You,” he pointed at me, “You’re under my control.” I struggled to get loose of his grip, but it only made him grab me more. He strained me and gagged me. “You wanna-be heroes always ruin all the fun. I just wanted to see some pros die, but no you had to come in out of nowhere to save them. They can cover themselves, kid. They are pros and people like you are just pawns that can easily die. I have some inventions. How do you prefer to die? Combat robots? Lethal injection? Or a slow painful death with my portals that take you limb by limb?” My eyes widen at his inventions.

Third Person View

Meanwhile, Bakugo is in the hospital. Kirishima is in the chair next to him. “Hey man, how are you feeling,” Kirishima saw his eyes flutter. “I’m fine. Did we get him,” he coughed. Kirishima shook his head in anger.

“No, and he took (Y/N),” he said with his head low.

“What,” Bakugo sat up, “He’s gonna die for sure. Let’s get him,” Bakugo said pulling his IVs out.

“Bakugo, you need to recover,” Kirishima warned.

“No, Kirishima. You didn’t hesitate to save me when the League of Villains took me. Not only is she a civilian, but she means a lot to you and makes you happy, which is why I’m gonna kill him. So, you coming with me or not,” Bakugo yelled.

“I have your back, let’s go,” Kirishima said confidently. They both ran out of the hospital.

Your POV

I have deep cuts on my legs and arms. My blood is starting to seep on the concrete. Portal creates another portal with a knife so I cannot anticipate where he would stab me. “If you tense up, it will only make it worse,” he said. I look down at my wrist and my clock is dramatically going lower. I take a stab to my hip. I cry out in pain and undo my gag restraint. “You won’t win. I will never give up and I’ll fight for my life before I surrender to you,” I yelled.

Portal got close to my face. “Wanna-be heroes don’t live,” he created a portal to my back. He pokes me with his knife where my heart is. “Where are the pros now? Do you think they really care for a civilian like you? Your quirk is useless, might as well be quirkless. However, I have a syringe that can make you powerful. You can have an amazing quirk and fight the wanna-be heroes with me and take on the pros,” he said.

“Never,” I replied.

“Suit yourself,” he said. He then took a stab to my shoulder and twisted it before he pulled it out. Immediately after, there was an explosion.

“Die, Portal,” Ground Zero and Red Riot came into his lair. “Oh look, it’s bomb guy and rocky,” Portal says, “You didn’t merely come to save this woman, did you? I believe the job is already done.” Kirishima looks over to me and saw the blood dripping rapidly. “You will pay for what you did to her,” Kirishima yelled angrily. Ground Zero blasted himself in the air and charged at Portal. “AP SHOT!” His concentrated blast impaired Portal sending him into his combat robots. This inspired him to activate his robots. The robots turned on and charged towards Red Riot and Ground Zero.

The robots were kinda juvenile considering that they were prototypes, but it tired Red Riot and Ground Zero. Once the robots were defeated, Red Riot turned to Portal. “Now it’s your turn,” he said determined. Portal extended his portals to go behind Ground Zero. He pulled a blast right before Portal went through. “Red Riot!” Bakugo yelled. “RED RIOT UNBREAKABLE!” Red Riot slammed Portal into the ground Ground Zero also charged his blast at the ground for a double hit causing a lot of wind to even burst through the ceiling. Portal was paralyzed and knocked out. Kirishima undid my restraints and held me in his arms. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I should have came sooner,” he said tearing up. Police and emergency sirens filled the air. I lightly cupped his face as I saw the light surround his face. “Eijiro, you’re my sunflower,” I said faintly. His eyes watered even harder and kissed me softly. “Get her to a hospital, now. She’s bleeding out,” Bakugo told the emergency services. Kirishima helped me on to the stretcher. He wanted to come with, but he was pushed away before I was taken away.

I woke up in the hospital with Kirishima over me. “You’re okay,” I said faintly. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Kirishima laughed holding my hand. Bakugo was in the doorway. Some nurses were flirting with him, until he saw me sit up. “How are you feeling, broad,” Bakugo said. “I should heal quickly. Just sore,” I smiled, “Thank you for---”

“No,” Bakugo interrupted, “Not only have you saved Kirishima’s life, but you have also saved mine as well with your clock quirk. Kirishima told recovery girl that you said my internal clock was narrowing. She found the internal bleeding quickly and stopped it before it got serious. Just--just leave the hero work to the pros, you got that,” his voice changed. He left, but smiled on his way out.

“He’s always explosive, but I think he likes you,” Kirishima laughed. I smiled. He pulled out some taiyakis for us to share. “Here, I know you like these,” he smiled.

“Do you think my quirk is useless,” I paused.

“No, why would you think that,” he said.

“Portal said I would be better off quirkless unless I join him. He said I could have a better quirk if I was a villain,” I said.

“He’s trying to mess with your head. Don’t believe anything he said to you,” he said. He climbed up next to me in the hospital bed and put his arm around me. “I don’t know if I can do this, but I’m willing to get yelled at just so I can be next to you. I’m glad you’re safe.”

“You’re my hero,” I said softly into his chest. He overheard me and looked down as I was dosing off in his chest. He laid his head on top of mine and kissed my forehead. “You missed,” I said half asleep. He cups my face and gives me a soft, sweet kiss. I couldn’t help but melt in his touch.

The next morning, I wake up with Kirishima lightly snoring. I kiss him to wake him up. “Good morning, babe. I didn’t realize that I stayed all night with you, but I’m glad I did,” he said hugging me, “You want some breakfast?”

“No, thanks. I need to make you breakfast one day,” I said.

“Is it sushi,” he joked. I hit his arm playfully. “Well I gotta go hit the gym with Bakugo, you sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’m good. I’ll let you know if I do,” I smiled. He winked at me before he left.

I was discharged from the hospital and landed back in my apartment. I was greeted by my cat. I cleaned her litter box, fed her, and gave her fresh water. “I’m sorry I was away, girly,” I said to her.

..................................................................................................

I return to another exhausting day at the sushi bar. My coworkers were concerned for me that I was bombarded with questions. ‘Are you alright?’ ‘How did it feel to be captured by a villain?’ ‘I bet you were so scared!’ I skated past the crowd to clock in. After this whole year of working here and now my coworkers actually want to get to know me since I was attacked by a villain.

I went through my shift, but then a familiar face walked in. “Bakugo,” I whispered. “How can I help—”

“Cut the crap,” he barked, “Why didn’t you tell us you were a pro-hero?”

The room stood still as everyone looked over to me. I pulled him aside to divide the attention, but then he dragged me out to the alleyway to find Kirishima. “(Y/N), are you a pro-hero,” Kirishima asked.

“Yes. In America, yes. I was instructed not to use my powers and license out of the States.”

“You think you’re better than me,” Bakugo yelled, “We need to battle, right here, right now, clock lady!” Kirishima held Bakugo back and slowly approached me. “Why would you keep that secret from me,” he said.

“I wanted to be normal. And I thought the best way to do it was to leave home and start new. But once I saw you dying, I knew I had to break boundaries. Please forgive me,” I said holding my face in my hands and collapsed to the ground.

Kirishima helped me back up and gave me a warm hug. “Your bravery is so manly,” he said. Bakugo was confused. “I’m still number one in the world, you got that,” he screamed. A couple of men passed the alleyway and saw Bakugo and Kirishima. “Hey guys, I know you,” a voice said coming towards them. Kirishima put me against the brick wall to say hi. I let them catch up as I slowly went back home.

“Bakugo! Kirishima! It’s been a while,” Kaminari and Sero said.

“What’s up, losers,” Bakugo bro hugged both of them.

“Sero! Kaminari! So good to see you,” Kirishima said.

“Yeah, bro. Great job with the Portal dude. He was a difficult villain. And looks like you’re still talking to the broad? I’m assuming was the girl you were with,” Kaminari pointed.

“Yeah, she’s—where did she go,” Kirishima concerned.

“Apparently, she is a pro in the states, but wasn’t allowed to use her power or license outside her home. My agency secretary researched her. She trained in jujitsu training along with her life vision. Not only does she save people, but she can also fight, which is why I have to battle her,” Bakugo barked.

“Classic Bakugo,” Sero said, “Hey, let’s have sushi together and catch up!” Kaminari, Sero, and Bakugo followed into the restaurant. Kirishima stood behind looking into the distance to see if he could find (Y/N), then followed his friends.

I was in my apartment doing some chores, talking to the cat, then I looked over to my sword. My hero sword had a white glow to it. The glow would only ignite with my quirk when I was in battle at full strength. Should I go back to the states or should I get my hero license here? There was a knock at my door.

“Kirishima,” I said opening the door.

“Hey, mind if I come in,” he asked. There was a silence between us. I offered some tea, he accepted. “I’m not mad at you,” he began, “You had to hold back because you were told to, but you had the bravery to help me and Bakugo defeat the villains. I admire your heart. You’re selfless, kind, and will come to anyone’s aid with your quirk. I just want to see you battle,” he hardened his arms.

“Wh—what?” I said.

“Don’t hold back. I’m pretty resilient,” he said. I aimed for his weak points in his body, specifically his legs to disorient him. I tried to go easy on him at first, but he noticed I was going for his weak points. So I stepped up a little. I created a distraction, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him through, attempting to break his arm. Next, the abdomen. There is a weak point in the abdomen near the leg. It is an artery that is crucial for blood flow to your legs as well as the inguinal canal, which is larger in men to hurt more. I hit that area and he flinched, but it wasn’t enough. I held him in a chloroform hold, then he became vulnerable. He tapped out and I let go of him, both of us out of breath. He laughed as he caught his breath. “Man, you know how to fight. If only Bakugo was here to watch.”

“Why did you want him to watch,” I laughed.

“I want you to train with us at our agency so you can have a Japan hero license,” he said. My breath was taken away.

“You—you want me to stay here,” I said.

“Well other than getting to know you more, I think you would be a good addition to our team. You’re great defensively and offensively—”

“Kirishima, I have a sword,” I hesitated.

“A sword? Like a battle weapon?” he asked. I grabbed my sword in its case and asked him to follow me. I brought Kirishima to my secret hideout. “I want to make sure that I was as strong as when I left to keep up my strength, so I come here, to this cage,” I said. I enter the cage and take my sword out of the scabbard. Kirishima follows behind me. “For your safety, I suggest staying out so I can show you my potential.” He closes the cage door behind him as he watches me. I concentrate to my full strength and the sword turns into a white glow. “TIME PERCEPTION,” I scream internally. I slash through the objects around me at lightening speed. Almost as if I did it in a blink. I breathe heavy for a little bit as I put away my sword and the top halves of the objects fall.

“Whoa,” Kirishima had his jaw dropped. “That’s amazing! So your sword can slash through things at high speed?”

“Not exactly. It pokes holes in quirks. Time is very fragile and one accidental, wrong move could lead to my advantage. That’s how I defeat villains. For example, if the villain has a fire quirk, my sword can diminish the oxygen in the flames before gets worse,” I said.

“I’m recruiting you whether you like it or not,” he said. I laughed and we both went back up to my apartment.

I started making some dinner. “Whatcha making,” Kirishima said. “I was going to make a stir-fry, unless you want something different.”

“No, sounds great,” he smiled. He watched me cook the meal for the both of us. I light some candles and he set the table. We exchanged smiles when the other looked away. I presented the stir-fry with some rice, proteins, and vegetables. “Thank you for dinner, this smells amazing,” he smiled. We filled our tummies as we laughed in conversation. I cleaned off the table, sat on the countertop, and closed my eyes. “Whatcha thinking about,” he asked.

“I want to save and protect people again,” I sighed.

“You will and I’ll be right by your side,” he smiled. He got in between my legs, cupped my face, and planted a sweet, soft kiss. We smile at each other, then Kirishima got a call.

“I gotta go to the agency. I think this would be the time to show Bakugo your sword,” he smirked.

[weraceasone]

Hi Elle (and anyone who reads this)!

This is going to be a long ask/rant so get your snacks and drinks ready (sorry in advance)

What does it mean to be a “real man” or how does one act like a real men? I’m really confused. Yesterday I tweeted that I love seeing the new generation of F1 drivers being friends and complementing each other and even hang out together outside of racing. All of a sudden I get a couple of tweets of people being mad about what I said: “they should act like real mean instead of showing their soft side everytime.”

So I asked one of them on Twitter: what do you mean by they should act like a real man? To this question I got a lot of ignorant answers like: They should man up, stop being shy, handle criticism like a man and stop crying about negative comments. (PS: What’s wrong with being shy?)

I’m half Dutch (hallo daar!) and I know that in our culture we can be very straight forward and honest (maybe too honest). We can also be very critical but what’s wrong with showing your REAL emotions when a comment hurts you? F1 drivers have a lot of pressure like we all know and of course it’s a hard world (bla bla bla) but that not an excuse to kick them when they’re down.

Seeing drivers being disappointed or even sad about their race or the comments people make on the internet does not make them less of a man (whatever that means). I mean how would you feel if almost everyone on social media is clowning you or laughing at your results? Ignore it?? St some point it’s impossible to ignore it when it’s presented right in front of your face. We put way too much pressure on these boys. At the end of the day they are human beings with real feelings.

When I see people hate on a certain driver it makes me so sad. You can be critical, nothing wrong with that, but let it be constructive criticism, something they can use to better their driving skills. But things like “you suck as a driver” “you don’t deserve to be in F1” is in my opinion mean. Look how people treat pay drivers. I think it’s disgusting how they talk about them.

I really hope that in the near future the F1 community will talk more about this topic and mental health since FIA wont do shit about it. It’s very important because the way some of us are ralking about these drivers can cause some serious damage to their mental health. Isometimes have to check myself when I talk negative about a driver.

Speaking on mental health actually applies to any sport and not just F1.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. This was weighing on my heart and I had to vent about it lol. I know this is all over the place but I hope that you and anyone who is reading this will get what I mean and I'm very curious what you think about this.

Ik wens je alvast een gezond 2021! ✨

hey Anon!

you know… lots of men have been angry with me on the internet before. one time somebody screenshotted a post of mine that pointed out the differences between people on Twitter reacting to Kimi’s radio messages and people on Twitter reacting to Lewis’ radio messages, and that person put it on Twitter without my permission and without my context. I had to read through hundreds of tweets calling me all sorts of degrading words and everything they insulted me with somehow always came back to me being a girl. it was the core of every insult they wrote. and you know, it’s funny until it isn’t. it’s funny until I decide; “this is going too far, and this is where I draw the line”. yet, I told myself to be thankful because it is nothing like it could be. I am thankful because they don’t actually know who I am, or where I live. I am thankful because I guess those men are good men, after all. they are good men because even though they said all those things, I know they will not act on it. they are good men because even though they just dehumanized me for being a girl with an opinion, they will still kiss their unknowing wives goodnight and they care for their daughters in a way they one day didn’t even believe was possible themselves.

when a driver shows even a sliver of emotion it’s “girly” or “he’s acting like a woman”, because apparently there’s nothing worse than being a girl. I remember Ziggo Sport making fun of Lando’s laugh because “he sounds like a girl”. however, the comparison with a woman is never made in a positive way, because being a woman is a pitiful state of being for these people. yet the phrases “be a man” and “grow a pair” will always refer to a state that we should aspire to be in.

and when I dare to write about it; I am the eternal man-hater. I am a man-hater, because pointing something out and the only conclusion being sexism, is my fault. it is my fault that writing about women in motorsport will somehow always end up on the topic of sexism. it is my fault that not writing about it, is somehow still writing about it. but the truth is; I don’t blame these men for the things they were told, I blame them for not looking beyond that. I blame them because I know the things they say on the internet will somehow always find a way to translate back to real life and I already feel sorry for the kids who will get their dad a tie or shaving cream or a fishing kit for father’s day, for Christmas, for every single birthday, because they never made a true emotional connection with him, because that’s stupid and unnecessary. I blame them because they don’t realize that the things they write, the thoughts they share; do have an impact on the people around them. I blame them because ever since I have gotten into this sport, there’s always a voice in the back of my head telling me that I don’t know enough, that my opinions aren’t good enough, because I’m a girl and I’m a girl and I’m a girl.

being an F1 driver isn’t easy, especially in this day and age where you don’t just have to deal with the pressure of being and staying in the team, but also with the unwarranted for opinions from people all over the internet, who think showing emotion is synonymous with being weak. but, at the end of the day; why do we watch this sport? would we still watch if it weren’t for the joy we get out of it? where would we be as fans, if we didn’t hope for the best? why are we only allowed to talk about the happy emotions?

the things we say on the internet, the thoughts we put out there; they always find a way to plant certain thoughts into our minds. and I’m not asking for anybody’s sympathy, because I can care for myself. I can braid my hair and neatly fold my clothes and I let myself sing off-tune and I let myself have an opinion on this sport, regardless of those men on the internet. but the thing is; the way we are online, is a reflection of the real world. if there’s never a man who dares to talk about his feelings; I will keep crying at videos of men doing nice things and your daughters will too. we will see a man quitting his job to be with his kids, a man speaking out about feminism, a man cooking dinner for his family and we will all keep on saying “you know, he doesn’t have to. he doesn’t have to”. because somehow, they never have to.

(I’m sorry this basically turned into a rant, Anon. this is also the longest answer I have ever written. it was a whole page long in Word. ik wens jou ook een gezond 2021, en allemaal fijne en leuke dingen🧡)

[dangan-happy]

Alexa, tell Monokuma that a body has been discovered. To Izuru, Kiyo and/or Taichi. [CW: Questioning masculinity] So I’m a trans guy and lately I’ve been wondering if I’m manly enough? Like. I feel like what I do isn’t manly enough?? Like I should be stronger, try doing sports and y’know. I love drawing and photography, which are things that ppl have told me are “girly” so I start feeling bad about liking them, I dunno man-- Some advice or comfort would be cool. A hug or head pat would be nice--

Hello anon, I do find it interesting that you requested me for this ask, since I'm not exactly the stereotypical picture of masculinity, but I will try my best to help you regardless. Gender is a social construct, it isn't something that's "natural" in terms of animals, meaning that there is no specific "right" or "wrong" way to be masculine. I believe the idea of having to do sports or be physically strong to be masculine falls under the idea of toxic masculinity. I know both cis and trans men who have no interest in sports or working out, and that doesn't make them any less masculine in the least. So by no means do you need to have certain interests to consider yourself masculine. Again, that's a fairly toxic viewpoint that those that hold it need to change, you don't need to change anything for them.

Oh? That's very interesting. Most people I know usually do art or photography, not both. That's incredibly fascinating and impressive, I'm pleased to hear that you have two hobbies and talents you enjoy. I'm curious to how people think those activities are "girly". Many well known artists in history are male, and in every National Geographic magazine I happen to pick up, there's usually a picture of a male photographer, crediting him for his pictures. I don't believe activities can be defined with gendered terms. If they were supposed to be gendered, then only masculine people would be good at some things, and feminine people would be good at others with no overlap. However, that's not the case. Masculinity or femininity has no impact on activities, talents, or hobbies and I find it ridiculous that so many people are insistent on labeling things and keeping them in said labels.

Your activities have no impact on how masculine you are. You are masculine regardless of any interests you have. You gain enjoyment out of them, and thus you should never feel bad about what you love. Enjoy your passions, you're obviously a talented person capable of a lot. You are masculine, and you will always be masculine no matter what your interests you are. You are valid, and an amazing individual member of humanity. I am truly pleased to have had the chance to speak to you. I would be happy to give you both a hug and a head pat if you would like. It is up to you.

~~

While that long-haired guy with the zipper face mask is... r-rather intimidating, I-I gotta agree with everything that he said. H-He really is intelligent; he knows exactly wh-what he's saying. Anyway, I'm a bit surprised that you would come to me. I'm just some average, d-decent-looking programmer. I-I'm really flattered though, kiddo, really! I-I hope I can do my best here, especially since that masked kiddo did a r-really good job at helping you out there...

I-I may not be the strongest code in the computer system, b-but I'm still aware of things s-such as toxic masculinity and such. I-I can understand how you feel with feeling like you should be 'more manly', a-and how you feel like you should do things that'll make you 'more manly'. If anything, I can relate to that on a personal level, a-as when I was a kiddo myself, I would get bullied for programming instead o-of playing sports with the others. Plus, I also know people of a-all gender identities, a-and more specifically, cisgender men and transgender men who have little to no interest in sports or anything like it. B-But I won't let the focus slip completely; I-I just wanted to let you know that you're not alone in this. Regardless, j-just because you don't participate in sports or anything li-like it doesn't mean you're not 'manly enough'. Sports or not, y-you're still very much a man who's strong and amazing i-in his own way.

I-I honestly think it's both c-cool and impressive for you to be into both drawing and photography! I-It take a skilled hand and some skilled, um, skills for both of those h-hobbies, believe me. I know a few kiddos who are into one or the other, o-or both even. I-I fail to understand why people are calling those hobbies 'girly' though, when there's really no such thing a-as a loved, cherished hobby being 'girly' or 'manly'. Besides, like the kiddo said, there's plenty of artists and photographers who are men, and heck, there's some who are also trans men or even a different gender identity! S-So while this is probably easier s-said than done, d-don't feel bad for liking those type of things. Th-They don't strip away your masculinity or anything like that at a-all. A-As long as they genuinely m-make you happy and smile, th-then that's what should truly matter the most, kiddo.

I-I guess to put it simply: Y-You're a valid man with valid masculinity, a-and you always will be a skilled, valid man. Do what you love, a-and continue to show others j-just how strong you truly are. I-I'll happily give you both a headpat a-and a hug, kiddo. You deserve it for your hard work and for having the courage to come here, to which, takes a lot of courage and strength.

These two men have summed up the issue quite adequately, so allow me to deliver the closing statements. We cannot allow stereotypes to control our world. It is a plague on us and we need to learn to step away from them and show ourselves how we can in our own manner.  

Not everyone can succeed in photography or drawing. One cannot possess all talents. That lies to me only. But you must take pride in your identity as well as your hobby. Continue to forge your desired path in life without the judgement of others. You’ll find your dedication to be well rewarded...

[bouldershima]

alright listen,, i gotta say sumn and ya’ll are gonna have to accept it i don’t make the rules

thigh men aren’t to be confused with ass men okay, these men specifically will absolutely lose their minds if you got a lil jiggle to your walk

so to the thick and chubby queens, we eating well tonight 😌💅🏽

warning: suggestive content, mentions of impact play (bakugo), uhhhh borderline nsfw but not quite

Top 3: Thigh Lovers

BNHA

Mirio

Bakugo

Kirishima

Honorable Mention (HM): Aizawa

Haikyuu!!

Bokuto

Nishinoya

Aone

Honorable Mention (HM) : Daichi

Mirio

aha so here we go sunshines

even when he was a 3rd year at U.A., mans was strong n buff

and like periodt because he worked hard to achieve his goals and make with what he had

so even as an adult, he is a whole man and a half

which is only a benefit since mirio is 100% a flirt, no critisim will be accepted

and boy does he love making you flustered 😃

at any given wake of day, he can and he will elict a reaction out of you

wait this is about thighs, hold on

okay so his lap is honestly your throne, it is what it is

he really loves how plush they are and he will squeeze them without warning

he just loves a handful of thigh whenever possible

we all know he’s very direct as well, so if he wants something from you, he will ask for it no hesitation

his face is definitely your throne as well

when you cuddle, thighs resting on his waist is a non-negotiable requirement

and if you just have one of those days where you’re feeling a little less than yourself?

this king will reassure you and caress your thighs as he does so

and if your thighs are what’s causing your distress???????? girl

you’ll definitely feel somethings that night, you’ll feel better about yourself, the butterflies, and sumn else

Bakugo

total thigh guy, there is no room for discussion. some may say he’s an ass man, but we all know what the real truth is

like the ass jiggle is great and all

but do you realize just how powerful the thigh jiggle is?? a confident thigh jiggle at that???

listen, anything you do with this man, if you’re doing it confidently you’d literally have him at your command

and i know you know this

regardless, one of the main reasons why he loves him a pair of thiccqque thighs is because he’s totally into impact play oop

yeah, so he loves smacking them and watching them jiggle

quirk enhanced spanks, definetly a thing with him

or better yet, marking them up and leaving reminders of who you belong to

lemme stop myself right there

now he’s not into pda much, but will occasionally have his hand on your thigh when driving or like sitting close

would 100% keep a hand on your hips if he feels threatened (bakugo language translation: jealous)

or. if he’s extra pissed then he would definitely grab a big ol handful of thigh as he brings your leg to his waist as he kisses you, with the other hand on the small of your back

don’t confront him about it though or else

Kirishima

oh where do i begin with this man

will literally be at your mercy if your thighs spill out whenever you sit down

you wearing pants? he’s staring. shorts? he’s definitely staring. skirts??? staring.

now if you hit him with the skirt + thigh high combo, you might just kill him

did i mention that his absolute favorite thing about your thighs are when they spill over, could honestly be with anything

especially with the thigh highs where it spills over the top?? yeah, you know what I’m talking about

h o w e v e r

if you have the audacity to pull up wearing just one of his shirts?? thighs exposed???? yeah, good luck

it doesn’t matter how tall or big you are, you and me both know this man is huge. he will ruin you

in a very loving and manly way of course ❤️

i did it again, let me stop right here

please let him touch your thighs casually too, he needs it to survive

like whenever ya’ll are chilling on the couch or cuddling, even in public if you’re comfortable with it

like he needs to have a hand somwhere on them, he’s very affectionate and this is apart of his love language

i really love this man

n e wayz, so here’s the rundown:

soft n’ plump jiggly thighs = happy kiri

soft n’ plump jiggly thighs with the thigh highs = feral kiri

i said what i said

Aizawa

alright so listen here kitty cats

he’s an honorable mention because i hc that he’s not 100% a thigh man, if that makes any sense

can’t really pick out what he is though, probably likes chest ass and thigh equally idk yet

anyways

like he loves them, but he’s not about to lose his mind like kiri type love, ya feel?

but. the reason why i chose him as an HM is because i 100% believe that this man will tie you up in his scarf AND will purposefully bind your legs in a way that there’s spillage in between

i don’t even know if this is making any sense but i have such a clear picture of this in my head

like rope is great and all, but his scarf has more surface area to it, so like it covers more which makes spillage easier?? i can’t believe i brought math into this

if you take anything away from this at all, let it be that aizawa will love how plush they are

he would totally also sleep with his head on your lap at any given moment, you cannot argue this

would also probably accidently graze his stubble against your bare skin one day

and then would probably continue to do it purposefully depending on your reaction

— - —

Bokuto

let’s get something straight here. you would be out of your damn mind if you thought he wasn’t gonna be on this list. it’s treason, your honor.

honestly, it’d really be you two crushing on each other’s thighs, and i think that’s beautiful

would totally stare and comment on just how much he loves them at every passing moment

would also try to touch them all the time. oh, and he’s totally into the hug where you jump at him and he holds you underneath your thighs

it actually boosts his ego and keeps his spirits high, so go ahead and do that whenever. 100% guaranteed to suppress emo bokuto

akaashi considers you a vital part of the team for it hfjdkdkd

but i know what ya’ll are here for

so sis,,,, sit on his lap, i dare you

just go ahead and sit on him and see what happens

if you think for even a second that he’d let you get back up, you really need to re-evaluate

you move those pretty lil hips against his thigh?? oh man

better yet, you guide his hands to your thighs as you ride move on his?? phew chile, yeah go ahead and cancel your plans for the week

all in all, very blunt and obvious on his love for your thighs and will make it known

Nishinoya

girlies,,, we all hc that this is our latin king, and i agree

and as a latina myself, i think i have every right to say that my latinx radar says he’s 100% a simp for thighs

this man is obsessed. you know what, that’s an understatement

he truly believes he was born into this world just to worship your luscious thighs

also would totally call you thunder thighs, but he means it in the most loving way

he may be on the thinner side (and shorter) than most of the hq bois but trust me on this, he can and will pick you up with ease

would also love to squeeze your thighs for no reason at all. i’m telling you, he really just loves them

would also beg you to suffocate him with your thighs

would say some shit like “breathing is worthless if it means I can’t have my face in between your thighs”

you might as well let him, he makes a good point

he’s definitely a biter. but you didn’t hear it from me

biting what, you may ask? i think we both know

anywho, 11/10 would let simp for my thighs

Aone

i swear nobody be writing for this baby, so i guess it’s my job now

the sweetiest out of all of these horn dogs

he just loves how soft they are, ya know?

this gentle giant adores the spillage too, but in a much sweeter way

like he finds it absolutely adorable, especially because it’s just so different compared to his own tall and sturdy figure

would have the prettiest blush if you told him he could lay on your lap

would also gently caress them if he’s cuddling you instead because he can’t get enough of how soft they are

he also likes the way they jiggle but he doesn’t know it yet

the second ya’ll start getting, ahem, intimate then he’ll find out real quick hfjsksmd

it’s like he’ll lowkey start out as a chest man, but then when he sees the glory that is your thighs, he’ll truly be a changed man

overall, 12/10 would bring home to meet the parents

Daichi

daichi queens,, come get your man because i gotta make a statement

so here’s the deal with the captain

he’s 110% an ass man, no questions asked.

you see, the thing is. yes he loves him some cake, but the plump thighs that come also as a result of said cake does not go unnoticed

he’s definitely an HM because he just loves how full your hips are

will automatically place his hands on your hips whenever you get close or go in for a hug. in public that is

in private, man’s hand doesn’t leave your ass. will literally refuse to rest his hands anywhere else like

you know what else he loves? that lil dance you do in order to get your pants on

i know you do it, it’s inevitable for us thick queens ✊😔

but that’s okay because that means he’ll totally help you. and by help, i mean he’ll help take them off

ya’ll will definitely be late a couple of times if you had to be somewhere

either way, you stay winning if this man steals your heart

[brookelynnsanders]

She smells like lemongrass and sleep - the second fall

A/N: no beta besides grammerly - not even god or my braincell.  a really short and sweet rp with @itzelbm-oc - enjoy!

"If you can't stand me then I am gonna make your job real easy tonight!" The only thing to be heard after the screaming fight is the slamming of a door. 

A lost girl hurries down the flight of stairs of the second floor, her heels now the only noise to be heard in the halls. Slowly picking up the pace as she flees her room. Sick and tired of the constant bickering with her maid that uses each opportunity to tear apart every aspect of her personality. Not even knowing who she truly is. How could she know when Brooke doesn’t know it either - only presenting parts that cover the cracks in her walls.Yet her shields are slaughtered by Miss Brita. Too quiet, too opinionated, not girly enough, not committed enough and whatever else she can think of. While the other two were simply watching in silence, doing their work. Probably too intimidated to speak up. Brooke simply couldn't take that anymore, not today. Not after sliping today. The entire day feeling like a large swimming pool without a pool ladder that will be her fatal demise - slowly drowning. Ignorant and condescending words slipping from her tongue. Who is she to passively insult a girl she barely knows. She should do better than that - control her words. Not give power to the monster feeding into her fears. 

Her feet carry her towards the entrance to the royal garden. Her new safe space. With her last strength, she pushes the doors open to step outside and feels a rush of calmness overcome her. He cool evening air and quiet surrounding her are like honey for her soul. 

But it doesn't last for long, soon the heaviness in her chest comes creeping back, not letting her alone. So she keeps on running, with no particular direction in mind, only attempting to escape her usual jogging route, having it memorized by heart now and the encounter where her awful demeanor peaked. So the blonde keeps running until all kinds of trees and plants drown out the sight of the palace, seemingly having arrived at a small forest. With heavy breathing, Brooke Lynn comes to and simply takes a moment to admire the sun setting behind the trees. The last sun rays illuminating the tips of the leaves. Only longing for this day to end. 

All of a sudden the girl gets catapulted onto her back, hitting her head on the grass floor. Lightning pain hits the nerves closest to her skull. "Not again", is all that escape her lips as an annoyed moan before another figure lands directly on top of her. Her vision blurred as stars light up the dark view - her visual cortex knocked out for a few seconds. 

"I'm s-", a female voice starts to apologize, before stopping mid-sentence. "Not again?" 

Itzel. A voice Brooke somehow could recognize anywhere. 

"Yep," Brooke Lynn pops the p, "just tripped over Regina's feet this morning." 

Who would have thought this wouldn’t be her last time falling for a selected. Amazing pun, Brooke. As her vision slowly starts to go back to normal, the blonde is faced with her follow competitor propped up on her elbows, intensely studying her face.

“Hey there, birdie. Nice seeing you again.” She remembers. “Better watch where you're going then.” A small wince escapes her plump lips. “Except I think it was my fault this time…”

What a way to meet again.

“Never knew a tiny mouse could knock out a birdie this hard .” Brooke scrunches her nose at her comment, attempting to contain her laughter, but she still can feel her ribcage vibrating. Probably revealing her amusement to Itzel.

“Guess there's always a first for everything. This mouse may be tiny but she definitely is mighty”, the brunette mentions with a smirk, directly staring into her eyes. Completely fixating on the blonde who feels a blush creeping up on her face. Somehow not minding the weight of another body on top of her.

Ohh gosh, am I really this touch starved?

Brooke Lynn squints her eyes and giggles slightly at Itzel’s comment as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Even I don't have a comeback for that anymore.”

Laughter rolls of Itzel’s tongue while her eyes glisten in the evening sun and get up. Kindly enough the woman stretches out her hand for Brooke to take. “I don't usually see people walk into the woods so what brings you here today.”

Brooke takes the woman’s silky soft hand and brushes the dirt off her dress once she is on her feet again. Yet once Itzel’s question arrives at her cortex, the blonde’s smile falters. “I just had to get out of that room.”

Itzel picks a leaf out of Brooke’s hair which brings a small smile to Brooke Lynn’s lips. 

“Sometimes we need a bit of fresh air. Any particular reason?”

“It's just I feel a bit lost in this place. Even tho I don't really like to admit that”, Brooke blurts out without even thinking. All of a sudden an open book.

Itzel seems to agree with a slight hum. “I think I know what you mean. I just feel like we are in the middle of something we shouldn’t be. Lots of people don’t seem to like admitting what they truly feel. But I’m glad you told me how you felt. How about we hide out here?” A playful smile graces her lips. Proposing an ideal evening.

“Heck yeah.” An enthusiastic nod only underlines her excitement. Read to leave the heavyweight behind, at least for tonight, unable to unpack it now.

“Keep up, birdie! If you get lost then don't worry because this tiny mouse will surely save ya.” Itzel says with a laugher as she starts heading into a particular direction.

Brooke Lynn trails along with a light smile on her lips and brushes her open hair behind her back, letting her gaze shift around. Slowly taking in the beauty of the little forest. All the fauna and fora she gets to explore.

“The forest is beautiful. Especially in early mornings. It's a great place to escape.”

The blonde simply nods - entranced by the beauty of nature surrounding them. “Anywhere specific where you are taking me?”

“I guess you'll have to wait and see.” Oh, she is one of the mysterious kind. “But I promise I don't have anything up my sleeves.”

A brow is raised at the promise ahead, so the blonde girl speeds up a bit to walk directly behind her companion. Watching the density of trees increasing as the women keep walking. The chatter of the birds calms the blonde’s nerves. Her thoughts far away from the palace, completely focussed on the tiny adventure ahead.

Itzel suddenly stops in her tracks so Brooke Lyn nearly bumps into her. “Look…”, the brunette presents her a beautiful clearing with a small sigh, before turning around to look at Brooke. “I mean it when I say barely anyone comes to these woods. I found this little spot in one of my explorations and claimed it as mine. This is now between you and me.”

Between her and me. 

As the clear view of the sunset falls into Brooke’s gaze she gasps r and just stares in awe at the flowers on the meadow. A rug of rainbow-colored petals covering the clearing, reminding Brooke of a dreamland. “This is gorgeous.” Gorgeous isn’t even enough to describe the scenery she is in.

“It is. Surprisingly the flowers here are doing well, I may have gotten rid of a few weeds here and there but other than that I fixed them up a bit. Plus!”  Itzel interrupts herself and walks to a tree with a huge trunk and seems to be hollow from the inside. Without any hesitation, she pulls a blanket from her secret hiding spot. “I tend to rest here from time to time.” In a swift motion, the girl spreads the creme colored blanket onto the floor. “Ta-da!”

Itzel’s smile only warming the blonde’s cold heart who smiles in return.

“So you are also a fellow gardener?” Brooke Lynn wonders, making her way towards the blanket and comes to halt, not wanting to be the first to take a seat.

“Bingo! I like doing light gardening but trimming bushes and doing the hard work is so time-consuming and a bit of a pain.” Itzel immediately lays down, grinning with satisfaction, unable to take her eyes off the calming sunset. 

“Definitely agree. I help out in my university community garden - I usually cover the shifts where I can interact the most with flowers,” the blonde shares her passion for nature with her fellow selected as she takes a seat next to her. One leg crossed over the other, a pair of blue orbs taking in the girl next to her who decided to close her eyes and starts humming. “If I were you then I'd probably do the same.”

Right before Brooke can take her eyes off the pretty girl next to her, Itzel already opens one eye to glance at the blonde. “How do you feel now?”

With a deep sigh, Brooke Lynn breaks the shiver-inducing eye contact and stares ahead at the sunset, trying her best not to build up the walls, but can still feel the tenseness in her neck and shoulders. At an attempt to soothe the buildup stress she decides to roll her shoulders and takes a moment to gather her thoughts. “I fell, well - the palace now seems so far away and I just get to be me without thinking about who I am... If that makes sense.” Each spoken word only deepening the furrow between her brows.

“It does,” she agrees while sitting up - suddenly frowning all of a sudden. “You should probably get your back checked up after falling twice.” Brooke Lynn is about to argue that her back doesn’t need medical attention, but devours her own words as warm fingertips find their way to the blonde’s neck and start massaging her. At first impact, Brooke tenses up but then slowly relaxes into the women’s soothing touch and closes her eyes. Slightly humming along. “Make sure it’s not something serious.” Itzel joins Brooke’s humming for a bit, before continuing her stream of words. “I think, in this society, you have to look a certain way for the part that you want. Or sometimes there is a role you are given and you’re supposed to conform to that. We all wear these masks, smiling as if we are fine. As if we are happy with being told who we should be.”

“It's just that I really thought I had myself figured out and then I am suddenly pushed into this selection by family and friends who only want the best for me... But how could they know what's best for me... And now - I don't know what to think of me anymore. This is all so strange.”

Brooke Lynn has attempted the past few weeks to take each day as it comes and refused to dwell on thinking too much. But somehow all is now crashing onto her - finally realizing that being a new person with a fresh start is only an ideal she can never fulfill. She still carries her weight from her past. Her experiences, fears, and dreams. Thrown into a situation she had never wanted to be in in the first place. Still unsure what she can get out of it. What she has to learn from this adventure.

“They don't know what's best for you though. You do. You're getting to know yourself, you're your own person. They want the best based on what the world thinks is the best for someone. You were thrown into a world you really didn't want to be in and it's normal for all of this to be strange.” Soft hands suddenly gone but the girl’s body heat now right by her side. ”Also...you have a lifetime to get to know yourself. You're not obligated to know who you are at a certain age.” The soft smile on her lips all that the lost woman needs.

“It's weird having someone that says exactly what I need to hear... What I already know deep down.”

Brooke feels like she is in an entirely different world. Far away from her family’s and now the world’s expectations and opinions. Connected to person she has barely spoken to and still somehow trusts. 

“I'm glad to hear that I'm able to help you in some way.”

Brooke only smiles, letting go of her chaotic thoughts and rests her head on Itzel's shoulder. Simply enjoying the sun setting behind the trees and some human warmth by her side as the brunette starts to lightly hum a song. Filling the quiet. Saying goodbye to an awful day.

[memfys23]

The Sound

“C’mon, girl. Smell the nice fishy? Hmm? Nice and fresh.”

There’s a small splash as the fish hit the water, but the sea lions took no notice of it and continued to stare impassively at Sam where he stood on the ship deck. Just after sunrise they had been swimming in long arcs parallel to the shore of the nearby island, but as the First Green had drifted in closer, more and more of them had shortened their sweeps until there was an audience of several floating off starboard, watching with eerie quiet.

The fish rocked gently black and forth as it slowly sank and the sleek animals made no move to follow it.

Dean whistled. “That is some damn impressive training. Also…” He gave a quick whack to the back of his brother’s head. “The fuck you think you’re gonna keep one of those things?”

“Ow!” Sam pushed the hair out of his face on the way to rubbing the back of his head. “I wasn’t trying to catch one. I just thought I’d make friends.”

“Sure, Sammy.”

“Seriously, Dean. We live in a two bedroom walk-up. Even if we moved, renting a place with a pool would seriously stretch our budget… at least at my old job’s wages…”

“No, Sammy”

“And my car’s too small to transport for vet visits. I’d have to stick it in the backseat of – “

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence.”

Sam grinned at the finger pointed in his face.

“You’re too easy.”

Dean huffed and returned to counting the alcohol swabs in the first aid kit while Sam continued watching the sea lions watch him.

Satisfied that the kit was still fully stocked, Dean returned it to the case on the wall and joined Sam at the railing just in time for a series of low whistles to come across the water. The sea lions attention was grabbed and they began ducking beneath the water and swimming away towards the island in the distance.

From here in the pall of the northwest, the settlement that they knew was there was a smudge on the shoreline; the small windmill floating off shore was lost in the gray.

Dean raised his binoculars and watched as the sea lions were greeted by other figures in the crashing surf. The sea lions nosed at hands and showed a playfulness that had absolutely been absent the rest of the day.

“I wish we could talk to them,” Sam said, lowering his own binoculars to push the hair out of his eyes. “Think about what we could learn about each other if we could just talk.”

“Yeah. Maybe if I throw you overboard one of them will mistake you with your girly hair as a damsel in need of rescue and sweep you back to their shack for a little ‘cultural exchange’.”

Sam punched him in the arm, hard and then went back to his binoculars.

Meeting a selkie would definitely be a highlight to this trip. In addition to all the safety discussions and the legal walk throughs (how close were they allowed to get to the actual oil pipeline, what could they take pictures of, etc.), Dean and the rest of the Green Peace expedition had been forced to sit through a seminar on interacting with any selkie that they encountered on this trip. It boiled down to don’t.

To call the selkie standoffish was an understatement. For most of history the relations between human and Selkie had been cold at best and hostile at worst. Selkie who intruded to much into human fishing waters were often chased off their settlements, forced to rocky islands that Humans found utterly inhospitable. History was also littered with the tales of ships run aground, or worse sunk with all hands after straying too close to Selkie waters.

Of course history was more complicated. There were good stories too. Drowned sailors thought lost forever returned to their home shores, lost selkie saved from circling sharks and given a lift to the nearest rookery. Careful exchanges of technology and culture over the centuries. A handful of documented cases of friendship and, even rarer, romance. Hell, the jacket Dean’s father had left him was Selkie made, passed on to John from who knows where. Decades old as it was, it still kept the rain out like nothing else.

It would be pretty cool to meet selkie. Would definitely be worth several free beers over the course of his life. But it was better not to get their hopes up. The First Green was here to observe the local oil pipeline and its impacts on the non-human and non-selkie ecology. Cultural exchange was not in their mission statement and the local selkie population had made no overtures during their week here so far. They had kept distant from the ship and the divers, shifting their fishing patterns and their herds to the other side of their island presumably to wait out the expedition.

Dean and Sam watched the selkie and their sea lions splashing through the surf a little while longer and moved on when the expedition’s volunteer photographer wandered over. He left Sam to point out different parts of the landscape and the selkie rookery to Sarah while she peered through her camera.

*             *             *

With the exception of the mornings, the weather in Lopez Bay had been beautiful. The sun had sparkled over the deep green waters and warm breezes had moved the air just enough to keep it from being stifling without providing any chill.

Even the selkie had seemed to loosen up. Early in the third week the crew had woken up one morning to find the sea cows back in their original cove and while the raft of sea lions continued to watch the ship warily and ignore the occasional fish a crewperson tried to tempt them with, they were now joined by a gaggle of motley pelted seals who responded with much less stoicism. The seals eagerly leapt, dove, an spun and they received a rain of fish as their reward.

It had been far more comfortable than Dean had been led to believe the Pacific Northwest to be.

Today was a whole other kettle of fish. Overnight it seemed the region had finally decided to show her true colors. Rain slapped against the windows and the floor of the mess was slick with water tracked in every time someone came from outside. Rain slickers dripped water down the walls where they were hung and every glass surface fogged with the collected breaths of the crew and the steam rising from their mugs.

Sam blew on his hot chocolate and took a small sip before putting it down again.

“You want me to get you some marshmallows to go with that?” Dean asked as he slid on to the bench.

“You have marshmallows?”

Dean shook his head and cradled his own mug close to his frozen nose.

“Seriously, Dean. If you’re hoarding marshmallows, share the goddamn wealth.”

Dean sipped his coffee. Too hot, but he wasn’t gonna be a goddamn girl about it like Sam. “Shaddup. How are your talks going with the fishing company? Are they still threatening to sue our asses to hell and back?”

“They won’t give any ground, but we’re not actively interfering with any of their transports and they can’t object to any of the observations we’re taking. No activities they undertake in public waters can be considered proprietary so we’re fully within our rights to take pictures and videos and the scientists have their own permits for testing and observing in the wildlife reserve so they can’t keep our people out of the water and away from their equipment as long as we’re not actually interfering with any of it.”

“They are damn lucky you were able to get such a good stretch of time off between your old firm and the new one.”

“I’m not the only one who’s managed to impress on this trip. I was talking with Doctor Karam earlier. His wife is a physician with Doctors Without Borders and they’re apparently looking for supply logisticians. Experienced people who understand medical needs and can get shit done. I think Doctor Karam thinks you’d be a great fit. It would be a great step up in your career.”

“C’mon, Sammy. I’ve had enough of parachuting into crappy places all over the world. I’m ready to stay put for a while. Not to mention we’re gonna be in the same place at the same time for the first time in a long time. You and me raising hell and looking fabulous doing it. Just like old times.”

Sam hesitated, dropped his eyes to his mug and Dean’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“About that, Dean.” Sam took a deep breath. “The firm has an opening in the DC office. It’s better pay and it would open up some really cool opportunities for me.”

“So that’s why you’re so eager to get rid of me.” He lifted his leg and pivoted off the bench. “I need some fresh air.”

“Dean, c’mon, man, that’s not fair,” he heard Sam start but Dean was already walking away. He drained the last of the coffee in his cup, dropped it in the bin strapped to the compost bin (of course these freaking hippies had a compost bin) and wrenched open the mess door. He made his way to the end of the hall and then out under the awning. Small blessing there wasn’t a lot of wind.

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and leaned against the bulkhead while he held the tip to his zippo flame. He’d promised Sam and Uncle Bobby he’d quit, but quitting was a process and the other coping option of a beer would mean heading back into the galley and Sam’s disapproval.

Goddamn genius brothers. Kid couldn’t leave well enough alone. Couldn’t be happy with what he had which was already lightyears more than any Winchester had ever had before. Couldn’t resist one more rung on the ladder. The chance to get away from Dean again probably made the opportunity all the sweeter. He’d probably been spending the last few weeks looking for any bone he could throw to Dean to make it seem like it wasn’t all just about avoiding his broken loser older brother.

The glow of the cigarette was a mocking reminder of the cold outside. Dean took a long drag, held the smoke in his lungs, and then let it out in a long slow stream. He scrubbed his hand over his face and tried not to feel the dual cold of the weather and the steel bulkhead behind him leaching through his clothes. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and repeated the earlier drag. He could at least be grateful there wasn’t any wind.

Dean continued to smoke, listening to the raindrops clatter off the awning when he something stole his attention. He stilled, suddenly hyper aware, not sure what had interrupted his pity party when deep jingle and clank sounded over a gap in the rain. The clank came again from around the corner followed by a thud, a grunt, and then a splash. Dean pushed away from the wall bulkhead behind him and headed around the corner to the sound. As he made his way there was another clank and then a thud again, followed by another.

Dean stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the stern deck, feeling the cigarette drop from his suddenly gaping mouth.

There, in the pouring rain, slumped on the deck, a smaller form clasped in his arms, blue eyes boring into Dean’s soul, was a selkie.

[synnutwritesstuff]

Bad to Worse

Started as a few whump tropes: defiant whumpee, captured whumpee, overly intimate villain is really what caught my attention here, and all the nasty little ways an overly intimate villain can really fuck with the hurt/comfort cycle of torture and human emotions, especially as it relates to a captured whumpee

All these characters are mine. Let me know if you like it - there’s loads where this came from!

This started off fairly straightforward, and ended Very Complicated. I blame Clive Owen. A lot. 

TW: Torture, violence, electrocution, broken bones, bleeding, sensory deprivation/blindfolding, dubcon/noncon elements, implied dubcon/noncon

She opened her eyes and blinked as her eyes adjusted to a dark room. A single neon bulb lit a space the size of her bedroom, big and empty enough for the chair she sat on and a person in front of her, could hold maybe five or six people standing around, but not a table for that many. A masked figure sat on a stool in front of her, and still tugged back on her hair to wake her up.

“She’s awake,” the figure said with a smile in his voice. “Can you hear me alright?” His accent was British of some flavor, and pleasant on the ears.

Kathryn nodded, and then frowned as she realized that something was the matter. She knew out of habit that this man’s voice would have been blue-ish green, maybe turquoise but...She couldn’t see his voice on the air, even though she squinted trying to see it.

The masked figure nodded, leaning forward to grab her chin and pull it down, to force her to look at him as he let go of her hair. “That’s right, darling. Got a serum here built just for you, takes away your sound manipulation while leaving your hearing and your healing mutation intact. We’re going to draw your blood and saliva six times a day, and once we get the call, you’ll be on your way, no problems, nice and easy, alright?”

Kathryn stared at him, feeling something hot stir in her gut at his words. She yanked her chin free and spat on him. “You let me off this chair and we’ll see about your nice and easy.”

The masked figure sighed, and she watched him check his sleeve as if to see if her spit had gotten on him. They seemed to be in a repurposed shower, with tile walls and a drain in the floor. He wore dark blue coveralls, a hood drawn up over his head, white latex gloves, black tennis shoes, a white skintight mask that covered his nose, and wide, reflective sunglasses. “Kathryn.”

Kathryn knew it was stupid, but she shuddered at the fact that he clearly knew her name. She considered the fact that he really had grabbed her on purpose, and gritted her teeth. ‘Assume your captor is always lying,’ was a lesson she knew well. Still, he definitely knew what power she was missing, and he knew her name.

Gloved fingers gripped her chin again, drawing her focus back onto him. “Please pay attention. I think it only fair to tell you that if you harm me or any of my people, there will be reprisals. This is not personal, and aside from those conditions, we will feed you and no harm will come to you. Do I make myself clear?”

Kathryn tugged her chin from his grip again and spat on the floor. “Easy for guy who abducted me to set conditions. My people will come for me and you’ll be sorry you grabbed me. If you know who I am, you’ll know they’re very good.”

She couldn’t see any of his features (except the fact that he was white, behind his sunglasses, and his accent right now, at least, was British, but she heard a little smirk before he spoke. “We do know about your people, and are taking great care to keep you from them until the job is done. I have business to attend to. Be good.”

He left, the sound of a door behind her telling her that her cell was locked, leaving her alone in the space with just the empty stool for company.

Kathryn sighed, but there was no use worrying herself sick without anyone present. She helped herself organize the information he’d given her by repeating it back to herself, and also by repeating back what he’d been wearing, and his features and accent. She’d call him British Guy 1, which would help her keep a tally, and keep her mind fresh.

Still, once that inventorying was done, she rolled her neck, and tried to get some rest.

What felt like almost immediately, she heard and felt someone enter behind her.

“Who’s there?” Kathryn called, and she heard that her voice was a little hoarse, rough. She must have fallen asleep, nap length, she guessed, less than three hours, based on how her mouth tasted and her eyes felt.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” an American accented man said, coming in with a shiny metal kit that he opened to Kathryn’s right.

“Calm down,” a light Scottish brogue said, a woman, coming up to stand on Kathryn’s left.

“Open your mouth,” the American man said, glaring down at Kathryn and grabbed Kathryn’s chin. He wore the same ensemble as the British man, with the only noticeable difference being his voice.

She spat a mouthful of spit right into his face, and so he hit her across the face, splitting her lip, her blood smearing onto his white glove.

The Scottish woman said nothing, so Kathryn sprayed the American man with the blood that collected in her mouth. His mask was covered in her blood now, too. Her hands were bound behind her, so she had literally had nothing else to do but spit on him.

He swore at her, his accent sounding Midwestern, or possibly Southern, to Kathryn’s ears, and he grabbed her by the throat as Kathryn tensed her shoulders and neck muscles. She knew from experience that she was very hard to strangle, which meant this was going to hurt a lot.

“I’ll handle that,” the Scottish woman interrupted, putting her hand over the man’s hand. “Just get your samples.” She tutted impatiently, and Kathryn wondered how many more rounds of this they had to deal with that had the Scottish woman so ready to move on.

The American man let go of her throat, and the Scottish woman paused before touching Kathryn. “You’re up to five lashes for spitting, love,” she said kindly. “Unless you want more, don’t make me open your mouth.”

Kathryn decided that was enough for now, if they were going to do this draw five more times today, she had better pace herself in terms of pissing people off. She opened her mouth, and let the man swab her mouth. If he stuck the swab in so far it made her eyes water and made her cough, if that was more than was necessary, Kathryn ignored it.

She also didn’t say anything else as the woman drew a vial of blood from one arm tied behind her.

Kathryn was happy to let bygones be bygones for this interaction, her mind ticking away at what she knew so far, when the American’s voice spoke behind her.

“No, I’ll handle this. You go on ahead, and I’ll meet you there.”

Kathryn sighed. She got the feeling she was not going to get out of this with only five lashes.

The door opened and closed behind her, and Kathryn was not surprised to hear the Amercan man behind her. “Glasgow’s gotta go,” he said, pronouncing the Scottish city “glas-gow,” rhymed with cow, instead of Glas - go. “So it’s me and you, girlie. You fuck with me, I’m gonna make you bleed for it.”

Kathryn sighed, letting her muscles loosen as the clank of metal behind her told her he was unlatching the chains behind her. “Are you, like, Montgomery, or Jackson, or some other hellhole, then?”

She was in thickly padded cuffs, apparently, that he was able to tug on, yanking her off-balance at her commentary.

“I said to shut the fuck up,” he snapped, catching her in another backhand that Kathryn at least this time could roll with to soften some of the impact of the blow.

Kathryn staggered a little, her ear ringing on the side he’d hit. The serum they’d given to block her sound mutation had fucked with her ears a little, it seemed like. “Montgomery, for sure,” she said, gasping a little as he dragged her further back.

He was using some kind of hoist system that he was cranking down, she could hear the gears, or pulley, and he locked her cuffs into the hoist, and was now cranking her back up.

“You’re gonna regret all this talk, girlie,” he hissed, and she couldn’t see, but she could hear the gears of the hoist clank, or grip, as he locked her into place so she could just barely strain to get one toe on the ground to support herself.

Kathryn sighed. “Is this like one lash per word, Montgomery, or syllable?” She thought about that and shrugged. “I hope it’s not syllable or I’m gonna wish I nicknamed you Richmond, maybe.”

She heard the adjustment of his belt, and heard the test swing of the whip, a high-pitched whistling that was impossible to mistake.

“Oh, you better not miss,” she said, raising her voice a little to make sure he heard her. “You want me to count, cause you can’t, or you gonna just make this shit up til you finally manage to shut me up?”

That got him to storm out in front of her so she could see him. He dragged her chair and the British man’s stool away from her and glared up at her. “Fifteen,” he hissed, staring  up into her face. “Count out loud. You lose track, I start over.”

Kathryn blanched, and let him see it, but sneered at him regardless. He’d added ten lashes onto the spitting penalty Glasgow had mentioned. That was interesting. She filed the information away for later.

The whistle of the whip was fast, crack as it broke the sound barrier, and Kathryn gasped as it bit into her. White hot searing pain, instantly cutting her open. Her clothing took the brunt of the force, but after one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, her plaid shirt and undershirt were no longer helping her. The pain became so constant it was muted, somehow, like her brain had maxed out its ability to throttle all the way up to 11.

Kathryn didn’t try to stop herself making noises, which were now pained cries at eight, nine, ten, eleven. She heard the door open, dimly, but counted twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and finally fifteen.

Kathryn sighed, sagging. She flinched as she felt someone behind her. Blood flowed down her back in streams, and she could feel the slightest movements of air on the strips the whip had taken from her flesh.

“Good girl,” Montgomery breathed, patting her thigh.

Kathryn flinched her leg away, and swore at him. “Fuck off, Confederacy,” she said, but her voice was hoarse and tired and held none of the venom it had before.

He had picked up her chair, maybe to put it under her to give her shoulders some relief, and instead set it back down, well out of her reach, shrugging.

He patted her leg on his way out, and left.

Kathryn sighed and spent the worst of the pain (the pain she wouldn’t have been able to sleep through anyway) cataloging what she had learned.

At some point, she must have dozed, because the feel of air on her back and its accompanying spike of pain woke her.

Kathryn bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself groaning out loud where they might have heard it, but she heard Glasgow’s voice as a blue figure moved to stand in front of her to her right.

“I’m going to get you out of this shirt, alright Kathryn?” Glasgow said, moving Kathryn’s chair and standing upon it within arm’s reach of Kathryn.

She chuckled. “It’s ruined anyhow, Glasgow, you might as well.”

The woman made a disapproving sound in her cheek, but quickly cut Kathryn out of her ruined plaid button up and her black undershirt, leaving Kathryn in her sports bra, which had held up surprisingly well.

Kathryn held still as the woman put the swab in her cheek, and was interested as the woman just barely ran the cotton swab along her cheek.

The woman then did an upside down blood draw, which would have impressed Kathryn if her back and legs weren’t covered in her own dried blood.

“You guys gonna feed me or try to drain me dry til my friends get here?” She asked, watching as Glasgow filled not just one, but four little vials with her blood.

Glasgow gave a little shrug. “Not up to me.”

Kathryn snorted, but shrugged. There had been no Montgomery at this draw, so she decided she did not care.

Kathryn was interested when Glasgow pushed the chair under her, and her poor shoulders could get a rest. She sighed in audible relief and rested her head on her arms, dozing off more quickly than she had the first time.

She startled awake as air blew on her back again, but there was less pain, more surprise until she remembered that Glasgow had cut her out of her shirt.

“You didn’t fuck up once, so you get a meal, girlie,” a familiar voice drawled.

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “You miss me, Montgomery, is that it?” She asked with an audible sigh, but her tone was still light.

A different male voice chuckled. “She sure has your number, huh Richmond?” This voice was Eastern European, based on the way he treated his vowels and /h/ sounds, and Kathryn couldn’t stop a snort at what Eastern Europe was saying.

Montgomery, who was apparently actually Richmond, the actual capital of the Confederacy, snarled and kicked Kathryn’s chair away, making her legs dangle and her shoulders and wrists support her full weight again. She hissed as her shoulders seemed to catch fire at suddenly having to support her weight again. She breathed through her mouth. Her body would do what it always did, she just had to stay calm.

Kathryn glanced at Eastern Europe and raised her eyebrows at him. “Touchy.”

Eastern Europe didn’t look up at her comment, and she could hear the hoist grinding as it lowered.

Her feet hit the ground and there was enough slack that she could lower her arms all the way down.

Richmond was in front of her, putting a straw in her face.

Kathryn turned her face away, because she didn’t want anything he was offering.

“You want to eat, or not?” Richmond demanded.

Kathryn bunched up her aching shoulder muscles and lunged for him, thinking she could maybe get her shackled hands around him, or at least punch him.

There was a buzzing sound, and Kathryn realized in a split-second that she had miscalculated, that a third person had entered the room, aside from Eastern Europe and Richmond, when that person drove a cattle prod right into one of her wounds, and she dropped like a sack of hammers.

Kathryn moaned as she came to. She tasted blood in her mouth and her limbs tingled. She had a new wound in her head, too, from where she’d fallen and hit the ground. Her head ached terribly, and she left her eyes closed, because it hurt too badly to open them

She winced as she felt someone very close by her, and British Guy was shushing her.

“It’s just me, love. I think this might be a record you’ve set, quickest time to the cattle prod.” His tone was lightly amused, but not harshly sarcastic, his grip the same kind-but-no-nonsense it had been when she’d first woken up. His hand found her chin, and with more shushing noises, something cold pressed against the wound on the side of her head.

She hissed, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm, and the tang of antiseptic told her what he was doing.

She held still, but grumbled, “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of leaving me my healing mutation?” She wanted to know how much he knew, but she also wanted to know why he was doing this. Good cop, maybe, or maybe he was the interrogator. Glasgow was also sort of good cop, and Eastern Europe was at least decent cop. She’d also pissed off Richmond, but he’d started the whole thing off pretty pissed, so he might have been set up that way on purpose as well.

“If you keep up at this rate, not even your S Grade healing mutation is going to help you, love,” he murmured, and something cool pressed against her split lip.

She’d thought the room was very dark, but as Kathryn flinched from the sensation of something touching her lips, she realized that she was blindfolded, and jerked her head away in surprise and disgust. They must have done when she was unconscious, yes, very brave.

“It’s alright love, it’s the next step since you went after Richmond. Nearly knocked him over, too, and that would have DC’d him for this run. Settle down, it’s just me.” A firm hand pushed her hair out of her face and patted her shoulder.

Kathryn gritted her teeth but did settle as she smelled the antiseptic smell near her face again. “What happens to you if I knock you out?” She asked, and the question helped calm her down, settle her nerves despite having the blindfold on. She didn’t so much as rattle her wrists, had no idea how she was chained. She was seated, and her hands were in front of her, but she knew British Guy was within six inches of her right now, so that was something. He didn’t seem as afraid of her as Richmond had.

He chuckled. “Then they replace me with someone who probably doesn’t mind being round Richmond, whereas I loathe him.”

Kathryn snorted. That could have been a line, solidifying British guy’s place as good cop and Richmond’s as bad, but it felt honest to her, his chuckle and less than professional comment.

She tensed further as he pulled her forward off the chair, she had to be in her chair again, and began to dab at the wounds on her back, but that’s all he did.

“And who’re you?” She asked, more to give herself something to say than really caring about the answer. She thought about his accent, rolling it around in her mind, the way he didn’t ignore his /r/s, but didn’t pay them much attention. “Birmingham?”

He chuckled. “Your accent’s not bad, you know. You’re close, though. Coventry.” He hissed a little, and said, “Sorry in advance, love,” and Kathryn was braced for the absolute wash of pain that overcame her as the antiseptic came into contact with a much fresher wound than the rest, but even so she must have whited out there, because when she came to, she was laying on the ground, her hands all the way out in front of her, superman style.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, and struggled to sit up, get out of this vulnerable position, but Birmingham was there, gently pushing down on her shoulder. .

“You’re alright love, it’s just me. Didn’t want to put more pressure on your wounds, so I lay you down. I’ll put you back to rights before I leave, don’t fret.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you’re playing Good Cop you’re meant to be a little nice, not all the way nice,” she complained, and if he noticed that her accent had picked up, tilted towards her father’s East London brogue in response to his own accent, he said nothing.

He just hummed in response and patted her hair as she hissed, exhaling pain as he tended to her wounds.

Kathryn had been thinking, anything to give herself something to do, anything to think about except the fire in her back and in her head, the horribly vulnerable position she was in, and the likelihood that she was going to get beaten again in this shit hole, and finally asked, “Is Eastern Europe guy Warsaw?”

Birmingham chuckled and pulled on her shoulder, helping her to her feet as he settled her back in the chair. Kathryn hissed as her bare, sensitive back came into contact with the chair, but there was enough slack in what had to be the chain that ran from the ground to loop around the shackles around her wrists that she could sit forward, in fact her hands were still in front of her. Huh.

She felt Birmingham in front of her, and felt him around her feet, her ankles. A clank of chain there too, and a heaviness round her ankles told her there was a leader chain between floor and ankle restraints.

“Bucharest,” Birmingham’s voice was a deep chuckle as he patted her knee.

Kathryn sighed in frustration. “Fuck those aren’t even close.”

Birmingham was seated near her, she could feel his knee press into hers, and she could feel him chuckle again. “Console yourself with some H2O before Richmond and Glasgow come back in, hm?”

Instead of the straw monstrosity Richmond had shoved into her face, Birmingham pulled one of her hands up and pressed a styrofoam cup into her hand.

Kathryn was so surprised she nearly dropped it, but she brought it to her lips and drank greedily.

Something tugged at her, buzzed at the back of her mind, but it wasn’t until she was clumsily eating a protein bar Birmingham had handed her that she realized what it was, recognized this.

“This isn’t just about the blood draws, is it?” She asked, frowning. “Are you lot recording my rate of healing? Is that why I’m not prone in some bed, that’s what all the sodding steps are for?” She gestured up near her face, the stupid blindfold. “Some kind of scientific study?”

Birmingham was making disagreeing noises. “No, love, that’s not quite-” and he reached up to stop her from yanking the blindfold off.

Kathryn growled at him, tossing her head back in a groan of frustration. “If you’re not trying to condition me and study me, then why tie me up like this?” She wanted to know. “If you’re not trying to interrogate me, why let Richmond add so many lashes?”

As if on cue, the door opened behind Kathryn, and she shoved the protein bar in Birmingham’s general direction. You didn’t need to have experience with something like this like she did to be able to guess she was not going to be able to finish her cement-flavored protein bar just now.

“Good morning, girlie,” Richmond’s voice was a slow drawl that made Kathryn want to put her own eyes out. At least she didn’t have to see his stupid, samey, masked face.

They were still close enough that she heard Birmingham sigh. He ran a hand over her cheek. “Be good, love.”

Kathryn growled at him too, because she did not need that kind of shit right now with Richmond, and at least one other person, whoever it was, in the room.

“Open your mouth,” Richmond drawled, and Kathryn sighed, but did it. She was just feeling almost back to full strength, and hadn’t gotten to eat but half that bar.

Richmond didn’t shove the swab in, just swabbed her cheek, and Kathryn thought they might have had a truce going, as someone else, she didn’t know who because they hadn’t spoken, pulled her wrists out and swabbed the inside of her elbow.

This might have been fine, Richmond snapping the cover on the swab, the other person putting a band around her elbow to get her veins to show up more starkly, if the door hadn’t swung open, and Kathryn hadn’t heard a sharp cry of pain from somewhere outside her cell. It was absolutely a cry of pain, and absolutely female, and the sound of it snapped her right out of whatever warm, hydrated Stockholm Syndrome place Birmingham and her apparent truce with Richmond had left her in.

She knocked whoever was doing the blood draw away from her elbow, driving her palm up into what felt like their nose (they’d been sitting far too close, which made her think it wasn’t Glasgow, who surely would have known better, or even Bucharest, who had also been in the room with one of her lashings out), blood exploding around her hand.

There was a muffled flurry of female curses that were definitely not Glasgow. They sounded Austrailian, actually.

Hands gripped her by the shoulders and slammed her down, trying to shove her into the chair, but Kathryn could tell they were behind her, and drove the back of her head as hard as she could straight back, and heard Richmond swear at her and clip the back of her shoulder with his elbow.

Kathryn drove her knee into Australia’s face as she bent down, stunned and sputtering, but the chain caught her knee before she could do more but sort of collide with Australia.

“Who the hell is that?” Kathryn yelled at them, reaching up and yanking off her blindfold.

She saw a light brown woman’s face near her feet, struggling to right askew sunglasses.

“Melbourne goddamnit get the blood drawn,” Richmond snarled, and before Kathryn could think to raise her hands to defend herself, a blow to the head knocked her out.

Kathryn groaned as she came to. Her back was on fire, felt raw like an open wound and the left side of her temple throbbed with each beat of her heart.

She was hanging by her wrists again, no chair beneath her to stand on, and her ankles were chained and connected to the ground, a blindfold tied over her eyes again. She wouldn’t be kneeing or elbowing anyone like this, that was for sure, and she couldn’t see. Shit.

The door opened behind her, and she flinched at the sound, already dreading it, although if that was for the stirrings of air it caused on her wounds or the fact that it brought people and confrontation, she wasn’t sure.

“It’s alright love,” Birmingham’s voice was pleasant, pitched for her to hear first, but Kathryn could hear him address others, too.

“Nice and easy, lads,” he said, and he moved quickly, followed by two others, to stand in front of her.

“Hello, love, it’s me,” Birmingham said, and he traced a comforting hand down her arm that Kathryn yanked away from.

“How many people have you got here?” She demanded, and her voice was hoarse, like she’d been yelling some more, but didn’t remember it, or hadn’t been conscious for it.

Her stomach twisted and she sneered at Birmingham. “You beat me while I was out? Not really how conditioning works, is it? I gotta be awake for it to matter,” she said, making a disappointed sound in her cheek.

There was a male chuckle, Richmond, at her right elbow, and Kathryn turned her head to spit in his direction, even if she didn’t know exactly where she was. “Fuck off, you arseholes lost the war, didn’t you? So sodding proud of yourselves.” She was furious that one conversation with Birmingham and her thinking about data collection had made her forget she was a prisoner here, that where there was one prisoner there would surely be others. That she was on the Reserve, and her friends were looking for her, so that that meant she had responsibilities to the other people here.

Birmingham swore colorfully and that was all the warning Kathryn got before a blow landed in her stomach.

She vomited, gagging, as she threw up mostly water. She could hear a male voice panting near her, still to her right, and spat another mouthful of bile in his direction. “You hit like a sodding girl R-” she couldn’t even get his name out before he hit her again.

Kathryn had nothing left to throw up, so when her stomach was empty she just coughed, and coughed.

She heard the hoist creak, and that was all the warning she had before she was dumped on her knees, enough slack let out that she could lower her arms. She winced, not having been expecting to need to brace herself, so her knees hit the ground hard, but she was thinking about the next step, about why they might drop her down onto the ground, and so when someone came within arm’s reach of her, she had her mouth open, ready for a bite, or to spit…

But she just felt a hand on her chin as someone crouched very near to her. “Stuff the heroics for thirty seconds, won’t you?” Birmingham’s voice was tight with anger. “You haven’t even been here for twelve whole hours, let them do the bloody draw.”

She tried to yank her head away from his grip, but he moved too quickly, framing either side of her head with his hands flat, forcing her to stay in place.

Kathryn snarled curses at him as she felt hands pull her right arm out and pin it down against the arm of her chair.

Birmingham’s voice was right in front of her face as she growled and tried to pull away from him. “I get that you’re angry, love, but you keep fighting and they’re going to put someone else in charge who’s just going to sedate you until your friends come and pick you up.”

Kathryn heard a chuckle, Richmond, he was holding her arm, and she flinched from his chuckle, from the implication of what that had to mean in context of what Birmingham had said.

She gritted her teeth as someone gripped her cheeks, as a hand reached up and closed her nose.

“You can’t help her if you do this!” Birmingham’s voice called, a little louder over the sounds Kathryn was making to try to dislodge whoever held her nose. “If they knock you out til you’re done, you can’t help anyone!”

That got through to her. She sighed and sagged, opening her mouth.

Whoever was working on getting her to open her mouth stopped suddenly. There was the quick invasion of the swab, then nothing.

She growled as hands still worked at her right arm, disliking the feeling of hands on her.

“Over here, love,” Birmingham said, gently tugging her chin to the left. “You did wonderfully,” he crooned quietly, and when she felt him put a straw near her mouth, she sighed and drank the water, knowing she needed the fluids after throwing up.

Still, when he moved the water away from her, she asked him, “How many lashes they give me when I was out?” Her back felt terrible, one giant wound, throbbing with her heartbeat as she felt the stabbing pinch of the needle in her arm as Richmond and whoever else must have found a vein.

Birmingham ran his hand down her face, smoothing her hair away from her eyes. “Twenty, for bloodying up two people but mostly for pissing Richmond off a second time,” he murmured, just for her, and Kathryn didn’t need her sound mutation to hear the amusement in his voice.

She snorted, and winced as her right arm was released.

She flinched as she felt hands on her right arm again, but Birmingham was making little shushing noises. “Did so good, love.” He murmured, and he was rubbing circulation back into her arm, avoiding the bruises that had been left behind.

Kathryn shuddered and had to choke back a sob that ran through her chest as he pulled her arms over her chest as best she could. She pulled her hands away from him as the full, terrible realization of all of this hit her. “Sod off,” she breathed, ignoring the tears that leaked down her face. “At least the Bad Cop’s honest. Honestly fuck off,” she hiccuped, trying to raise her hands to push him away.

Birmingham snorted, and Kathryn felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as the same voice, changed drastically in tone. “You know love, it’s quite refreshing to see someone going through as much as you are keep her eye on the prize.”

She choked on a terrible sound that was half sob, half laugh. “So glad to entertain,” she said, and at least there was enough length in the chain that she could lean her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands, trying to collect herself, to get a grip. “So you usually the Bad Cop then, hm Birmingham?” She asked, unable to stop herself. Even knowing what this was, she couldn’t stop from talking. The moment she shut up was the moment she’d start to lose her mind, she knew.

He snorted, and Kathryn shuddered hard as his hand came up to push her hair from her face even in the way she sat, even after her realization. “I’m whoever’s needed,” he said reasonably. He didn’t seem to be upset,that she’d cottoned on, that they were having this conversation.

Kathryn, dimly, recognized his calmness in the face of her realizing the plan as a very bad sign, but she was too busy talking, keeping the conversation going, to notice right then. “Oh yeah?” She asked. “Who are you right now, then?” She asked, her tone twisting, becoming dark and harsh, so much so that even he froze for a moment as he reached up again to smooth hair off of her face.

He recovered after an instant, and seemed to smooth her hair back again, for emphasis, as if just to say he had not, actually, as a matter of fact, been caught off guard by her words, but she knew better, she knew what had happened. “I’m the bloke keeping this site profitable while you’re here,” he said, and he planted a gentle kiss on her cheek as he levered himself to his feet with a grunt of effort.

Kathryn shuddered at his words, but they were honest, at least, which she appreciated, she could work with. He even left her chains the way they were, so she almost slept comfortably, and was asleep before she heard the door open behind her.

She heard another cry from behind her, from the hallway as the soft tread of boots filled her cell, and she flinched, standing in an instant even if her wrists were connected to the same loop that held her ankles, so she couldn’t stand all the way up, but she could twist at this angle to angle her face towards the sound. This cry was deeper, but just as full of pain as the first she’d heard.

She yelled back, the drive to do so completely instinctive. Kathryn didn’t think, just shouted, “I’m Kathryn! I-” And she heard a flurry of sound, a “-Dan!” and then everything went black.

Kathryn gasped as she awoke, because her back was still raw, but she saw stars as the gasp at her back still hurting the same as it has the last time she awoke made pain slice through her ribs. She tried to hunch over, protect her torso, but her shoulders were on fire, she was suspended up in the air again, ankles connected to the ground, but she was hoisted high enough in the air that she couldn’t touch the ground. “Fuck,” she murmured. This was really bad. She hadn’t even realized anyone was in the room with her, and they’d knocked her clean out.

“All you had to do was not shout your name.” Birmingham’s voice was so close she flinched, surprised.

He ran a hand down her arm and her back, carefully avoiding her fresh wounds there.

Kathryn flinched from his touch. “Fuck off,” she breathed, wincing, her tone emphatic but not loud. His touch, his actions, were so different from Richmond, who was surely the designated Bad Cop, that it freaked her out more than her initial realization of their roles had.

He chuckled. “If you hadn’t literally pointed out my role here, or if you stopped fucking around and making such a mess for even a single draw, I would,” he said, and again, Kathryn felt the truth in his words even as she bit back another shudder as he gentled down her other arm and side of her body.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked through gritted teeth, trying to stop her shakes and unable to do so as he ran his hand over her hair, down her back, over her arms. It was all wholly nonsexual, which made it even harder to calm herself down. Why was he doing this? The shaking in her arms made her realize that her arms were tender, that the air hurt her arms as much as it hurt her back. She was bruised to shit, and injured enough elsewhere that the bruises were no longer healing. Dehydrated, malnourished, too, probably, all factors which slowed her healing mutation down to a crawl. She wouln’t die of sepsis, but she also wouldn’t get better with any speed. Shit

“I told you darling, my job is just to keep this place afloat while you’re here. Since you’ve found me out, I’m not going to lie to you any more. Of that, you have my word.” His voice was a quiet lilt, and he chuckled as she swore at him.

He seemed about to say more, but the door opened behind her, and she immediately felt a hard hand press against her mouth.

Kathryn knew this trick, and had her jaw open wide, and found an edge of Birmingham’s hand and bit down, hard.

He swore fluently, and she was willing to guess that his real accent was the Birmingham accent she kept hearing, because it was almost impossible to keep a fake accent when you were in that kind of startled-pain, she knew from experience.

And then a hand hit her right in her solar plexus, and things shattered and broke insdie her and she was writhing and contracting and unable to draw breath like her lungs had forgotten how to breathe and she was gasping, no air, gasping, gasping...and something hit her again, like a freight train she felt things splinter and break but at leastshe could breathe, was sucking in shredded, gasping breaths and then someone grabbed her face.

“I appreciate the foreplay, darling,” Birmingham’s voice was a little ragged, but still amused. She felt his blood on her chin, from his hand where he grabbed her and where she’d bitten him, and grinned at him, knowing how close he had to be, able to feel his body heat in front of her. “And I do hope it’s worth it.”

She hardly had any slack in the chains, but he was hanging onto her, giving her a sense of how far away he was, and so she was able to move in by using his grip on her to pull herself forward, so she could plant a sloppy kiss on his temple. “Thank you for the foreplay, darling,” she mimicked, rubbing his blood from her chin onto him the best she could.

She heard him swear again, and people must have come into the room, but she didn’t hear a whip. Instead, pain exploded around her knees in two white-hot bursts that crunched sickeningly, hotter than the sun and twice as blinding.

Kathryn had not experienced this pain in a long time, and these catastrophic, torrential injuries being added to the injuries she already had, and her central nervous system blessedly tapped out for her. She passed out.

She came to with a sob as pain woke her up. She felt like her legs were being pulled apart at the knee. She  still couldn’t see, but she could feel blood dripping down her legs. Fuck.

She tried to make a list, and spoke out loud for the desire to get out of her own head. Not being able to see was awful, and speaking would be something she could set against that.. “Whippings, 35 lashes, I think, over what has maybe been an eight hour period?” Kathryn wasn’t sure about this math, but it was close enough for now. “At least one blow to the head, no actually make that two, no, three, if we’re including the blow that got me here.” She sucked in a breath as she cast her mind back. There was a lot to inventory. “One stun baton, had ribs burised, at lesat, and my knees had been, what, shot out?” She shook her head. There had been no rapport of gunfire. “Fractured at least, no way to know the damage right now, without being able to see them.” She sighed, but she was close to the end of her inventory, might as well finish. “There had been three blood drawings. At six per day, with an organized schedule, that assumes one every four hours, which argues for at least twelve hours.” She sighed, because her arms were even more tender than they had been. “Add at least one more draw, so 16 total hours, possibly several more.”

“It’s the worst beating I’ve ever seen,” Birmingham’s voice was low and interested wasn’t the right word, but it was close. She flinched at the fact that he must have been in the room this entire time.

He was seated below her, in her old chair maybe, as she was still being pulled in two directions, it felt like.

She snorted. “Not even the worse beating I’ve gotten in a place like this,” she scoffed, because it was true, probably, technically. She couldn’t quite remember, but the bravado felt good, helped to ground her and helped her feel more settled, blindfold, injuries, and all.

She felt Birmingham’s hand on her torso, and whimpered before she could stop herself. She could feel the painful flesh under his fingers, practically feel her bones move and grate against each other. “You’re gonna feel like an ass if I puncture a lung,” she gasped, remembering a training session with Miller where they’d nearly done just that.

Birmingham chuckled, and she thought she knew what he was going to say, she’d participated in this play before but then he said, “Doesn’t matter to me if you puncture anything, love,” he said, smoothing back her hair from her face in a way that had become very familiar, but was incredibly jarring as his words shook her entire thought process of why she was here completely apart. “You’re just here til your friends follow all the clues.”

Kathryn gasped, because this had not felt like her last experience with a place...like this, but to hear him say so was very upsetting. “What clues?” She asked, because any words, any questions, were better than the reality of what he implied. She ignored it, it was too terrible even to consider.

She flinched as she felt hands near her face, thinking they were coming for her mouth, but the blindfold was tugged off her eyes.

Kathryn whimpered at the suddenness, at the fact that he was so close to her he could take something off her face, and at the newness of sensation after...however the hell long it had been with that fucking thing on, but Birmingham was running his hand down the side of her face, making little shushing noises. “It’s alright love. I wanted you to at least be able to look me in the eye when I said this, because I don’t think you’ll believe me, and I really dont’ think you ought to take any more punishment right now.

Kathryn’s chest heaved at his words, but all that left her mouth was a choked little laugh. “You don’t, do you?”

Birmingham had her blindfold gathered in one gloved hand, and he used that hand to take off his sunglasses. He was a white man, maybe a little older than Kathryn based on the laugh lines around his eyes, with otherwise healthy looking skin with no identifying marks she could see. He had unusual eyes, which made her breath catch in her throat because they were quite identifying. His right eye was light green, lighter than her own dark green, and his left eye was light blue. The overall effect was grey, but they were not the same color.

He was standing very close to her, to allow her to examine his face, and she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle and wrinkles at the edge of his nose crinkle, in what was clearly a smile, as she seemed to finish her examination. “Very good, darling,” he said, as if they’d come to some kind of agreement, running his hand down her face and brushing his thumb across her lips before turning away from her, seemingly looking for something.

Kathryn shuddered, muttering, “Fuck,” as he seemed to come to some kind of decision, abandoning, what, his search for her chair? She had no idea where it had gone, nor the stool he’d sat on when she’d first woken up here.

He turned back to her, still standing within arm’s reach, still smiling up at her. “You’re not here to be interrogated, or tortured, and although the blood and saliva samples are a helpful bonus, they’re not why you’re here, either, love.”

Kathryn stared at him, her mouth falling open a little, because that made no sense. “What clues?” She repeated the last question that had come to mind, forcing herself to have something to say, to continue to collect information collect information. She watched him hungrily, so grateful to have her eyes back, to be able to process data visually as well as auditorily.

He shrugged, seemingly taking his fill just watching her. He reached up and ran his hand over her cheek and jaw, seemingly just because he could, ignoring the shudder that ran through her at his touch, before dropping his hand again. “Dunno. Our employer was extremely specific about the conditions you were to be held in, though, very specific about other instructions he’s given us about you, darling, but once we hear the message we’re waiting on from your friends, we’re to let you go.”

Kathryn flinched from his words, shaking her head at him. “You’re lying.”

Birmingham got right into her face, moving within six inches of her, and even though she was suspended in the air, above the ground, he was still a little taller than she was, just a few inches. “I’m not,” he said, his words crisp, maybe irritated, in a way they had not been thus far. He grabbed her chin. “I gave you my word that I wouldn’t lie to you more, love.” He seemed to think this was a bit too harsh, because he released her chin and ran that hand down her face, thumb over her lips.

Kathryn shuddered, looking away from him, her chest heaving as tears sprung to her eyes. “You said it doesn’t matter, if I puncture a lung. Does your employer want me dead?” There was quite a bit of evidence against this, but she was curious. She wanted as much information on who was actually in charge here. She believed Birmingham, for now. There was just too much that didn’t make sense, otherwise.

He shook his head, tracing the other side of his face with his hand now, running his fingers through her hair, making her shudder involuntarily as his fingers brushed against a wound on her head, making pain shoot down her spine and through her skull.

He muffled a curse. “Shite, sorry love,” he said, and he seemed genuinely sorry, adjusting his hand so the next time he ran his fingers through her hair, he would not hit the wound he’d hit. “No, they don’t, but I haven’t got any more information about what they want, ultimately, just what they needed us to do.”

Kathryn shuddered, a sob fighting its way out of her chest, and did not fight it. It didn’t matter what she did here. She believed Birmingham, and so that meant that all of these injuries had absolutely been for nothing. She shuddered, and then could not stop, and began to cry, huge sobs that made her ribs and back ache, that made her shake so her legs were shaking, and she didn’t know what would happen, if she’d shake herself apart with crying, or if they’d come back in to hurt her some more.

Instead, she felt gentle hands on her face, in her hair, down the undamaged parts of her back, gentle along her arms.

Kathryn automatically felt her crying subsiding under the soothing touch, thought at first she must have fallen asleep, until she heard a muttered, “No, it’s under control,” and realized she was not asleep.

She flinched from the hand that was still running up and down her arm and opened her eyes to see Birmingham talking on a radio of some kind, and she felt like throwing up as she realized he’d very deliberately taken the white gloves off everyone else used here.

“What the fuck?” She demanded, trying and unable to draw her arms away from him, the cuffs were too tight above her, but she could and did move her head away from him as he circled so he was standing in front of her. “Put that shit back on, it’s to keep me disoriented about who my captors are, you fucking idiot,” she snapped, her tone staccato and shuddering. She learned something about why she was here, and he immediately fucked that up with...whatever he was doing. It was making her angry, pissed at him, and she clung to that anger, as it gave her somewhere productive to go with her emotions.

He chuckled up at her, running his hand down her face and thumb across her lip. He showed her his left hand, the clear bite mark in the meat of his left hand, with tidy stitches between his ring and pinky fingers. “I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you’re the most interesting mark I’ve had in ages, and me and you, we’re connected.” He tapped his temple, covered at least by the hood he still had pulled up over his hair.

She shuddered again, shaking her head, turning away from him. “Sod off. This is a psychological trick mean to-” her words cut off as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

“I said I was not going to lie to you, love,” he breathed, running his thumb over her mouth before letting her go. He drew a knife from the pocket of his pants, and Kathryn couldn’t stop the whimper in her throat. That knife was nearly as long as her forearm, and meant business. Normally, knives could not stop her, but she was so ground up from this place that it could kill her.

He’d also just said his employer did not care what condition she was in…

Birmingham shook his head, shushing her and running his hand down her face and thumb over her lips. “This isn’t for you, darling, look,” he said, and tugged on her chin so she was forced to look watch as he easily, one-handed, opened the butterfly knife, and swiftly drove it into his own arm.

She gasped at the blood that sprayed her and his pristine white mask, but Birmingham had barely drawn the knife from his arm before the wound began to close.

She stared at the wound as it closed, looking for a trick, but all she saw was a very similar hair-thin white scar on his arm where there had just seconds before been a gaping flesh wound. He wiped the knife onto his trouser leg, closed it, and replaced it in his pocket.

“Told you, love, we’re connected,” he said, moving closer to push her hair away from her face, soothe it down the back of her head and her neck.

Kathryn shuddered, but couldn’t help the sob that escaped her lips at the comfort, even if she knew it was false. She felt tears on her cheeks and mucus on her face as she struggled to speak. “I haven’t-” she began, and flinched as he moved quickly in front of her, as something was raised to her face. It was a handkerchief he was raising to her nose, very gently. “Blow,” he ordered, very much in the tone of father to child than captor to captive. She grimaced at the comparison, because how had things gone from worse to better to worse so quickly?

She obeyed, because she did need to blow her nose, after all, and she fully believed, now, that she would not be let down from here until the contract was done. He even moved the hankerchief to a different spot once she’d blown her nose and gently wiped her face and under her eyes.

Kathryn felt a lump in her throat she was fairly sure was never going to go away, but she didn’t ask the question she wanted to ask. Instead, she cleared her throat, not removing the lump there but feeling better about the attempt. “I haven’t met anyone with a healing mutation like me since I was at the last place like this I’ve been.”

A high pitched beeping sound emitted from somewhere below her, and Kathryn winced, but Birmingham quickly silenced the alarm on his watch and moved around on the floor beneath her, rummaging for things she could not see, before returning with a giant plastic container of water with a massive straw.

He held it up near her face and she drank until he took it away, could have had more.

He clicked his tongue, seemingly in sympathy. “I know love, but they’re going to be back in three hours to beat on you some more, and so I’d rather try to rehydrate you in small steps, not big ones, to increase the chances you keep it down.”

Kathryn shuddered involuntarily at his words and the extremely casual mention of severe pain in them, a series of shakes that just kept continuing until she felt his hand on her face, and stilled somewhat at the now familiar movements, thumb on her lips, hand down her scalp, over her shoulders, and the backs of her arms, gently over her sides.

“Are you really this bored?” She wanted to know as he turned back to set the water down and reached for something else.

He straightened with an IV needle and bag, and she flinched from him, but he made shushing noises at her. “You desperately need fuel to rebuild yourself, and you’re not allowed solids anymore, so please let me help you.” His expression was level, and his words about what she was not allowed sounded like they were from his employer.

She sneered at him. “I’m a prisoner here,” she deadpanned, as if he needed a reminder, or as if she did. It was more out of irritation that he’d even asked. “I can’t give consent for anything in this fucking place.” It did feel good, a little, to feel some of her anger kick back in.

The corners of the edges of his eyes were very tender as he moved closer and placed a kiss on her cheek, running his hand down her face and finger over her lips. She shuddered, but not as much as she had done at such intrusions before, which just made her angrier.

She felt the whine of the motor of the hoist, and it took her brain a moment too long to realize what that sound was, what it meant, and she cried out in pain as he feet brushed the floor.

She was choking on a sob as she tried to use her abdominal muscles to pull her legs off the floor as the hoist lowered her all the way to the ground. She relaxed a little as her butt hit the ground, and she could gently lower her abused legs to the ground, but she still winced as her heels hit, because it sent vibrations and radiations straight through her knees, making her eyes water and a sob leave her throat in earnest. Fuck…

She couldn’t even lay on her back, because it was still cut up.

Kathryn didn’t realize that her eyes had closed, or that tears stood on her cheeks, until Birmingham crouched next to her and wiped the tears away, carefully, as careful as all of the touching.

She didn’t try to fight him as he put in the IV and attached the bag to the chain that connected her wrist shackles to the hoist, although she did smile a little as he made a show of not putting his left hand within reach of her mouth as he wiped off her hands and arms.

She swore a little, because her arms looked terrible, like she was a drug addict,  were swollen and lumpy, black and purple and blues of deep bruising. She was sure her abdomen, and knees for sure, but her back as well probably, were worse. Kathryn was suddenly ver grateful that she couldn’t see her knees under the jeans she wore, or her back. She wasn’t sure she could handle seeing whatever mincemeat she looked like right now.

He had wiped her hands, face, and feet down when he paused, and frowned at his watch as an alarm went off again. He grabbed the bottle and she drank as much water as he would let her, before he set it aside again.

She felt exhausted, drugged, and struggled to keep her eyes open as she looked at him. Apparently, accusation was clear on her face.

“I would never,” he said, putting a hand on his chest as if offended.

Kathryn snorted rudely.

He shrugged. “I’d never do such a thing without being paid handsomely for it,” he amended, grinning and patting her cheek and rubbing his thumb across her lips.

Kathryn sighed as he pulled his hand away, she grimaced as she recognized the emotion she’d just felt. She glared at him, feeling something like a snarl pull her lips up. “Are you being paid to do this, or just a pervert, taking advantage of a helpless woman?” She hissed as he grabbed a new baby wipe and seemed to be deciding which leg to clean of blood and grime first.

He looked up at her sharply, and he was so close to her, she thought she could hear him give a hiss of protest as he considered her words.

He seemed to think for a moment, eyes flashing, before he swiftly moved closer to her, and since she was no longer chained up, but chained down, her wrist restraints and ankle cuffs connected to the chain on the ground, she had nowhere to go as he loomed over her as she sat with her injured legs straight out before her. He seemed to be thinking hard, patting in his pockets for something with his hand that was further away from her while running his hand down her face and thumb over her lips with the other.

Kathryn heard a clank of chain and realized that without thinking about it, she’d tried to bring her hands up to stop him, stop whatever was about to happen, but the chain was too short. She couldn’t get her hands above her heart.

While she was distracted, Birmingham seemed to have found what he wanted, because he leaned into her space and instead of touching her face like he’d done countless times, he pried her mouth open and crammed something, she choked, it was a piece of cloth, into her mouth, covering her mouth with his right hand this time as she struggled to spit out whatever the hell, yuck...

She swore and tried to stop him, to fight him off, but the attack was too sudden and too forceful. She had tears standing in her eyes as he reached back to the kit that looked a lot like a fishing tackle box she could see sitting on the ground next to him and peeled off a piece of duct tape and placed it over the gag he’d put in her mouth.

Kathryn’s chest was heaving as she stared at him, flinty eyed. She bit down on the cloth in her mouth and glared at him, trying to get the gag out of the way of her tongue so she could speak, but she couldn’t. She didn’t even realize she had tears standing in her eyes as she glared at him, anger feeling like it burned her up from the inside. This was so stupid, what was she even thinking...

He made a little tutting sound, as if he could hear her thoughts,  and wiped the tears that had fallen down her cheeks away, glancing down, Kathryn flinched as he seemingly reached for something else in his pockets, but he was just shutting off the radio she’d heard him use.

He made little shushing sounds, wiping away more tears that had spilled, running his hand down her face and thumb across her lips, shaking his head as this made her more upset. “I apologize, but I didn’t want you calling me out for what I’m about to say, as it could get me in fairly serious trouble.” His expression was clear, but she did see the corners of his eyes tighten at the effect his gagging her had had on her. She shook her head a little, not at his words, but at herself, shaking off her thoughts. He had just gagged her, she reminded herself. She did not care what he was feeling, she reminded herself. Get a grip.

He reached forward and ran his hand down the side of her face and thumb across her lips, as if unable to stop himself, before taking a shuddering breath and saying, “Look, I’m not bored, or, or...” he got stuck on the word, apparently, Kathryn was surprised to see, needing two more tries before he could spit out, “a pervert, alright? I’m just thinking you might join us, after all this is said and done.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes at him, calling him terrible names around the gag in her mouth.

He shrugged and smiled fondly at her. “You say that now, pet, but our employer has a lot of plans for you and your friends. Who knows how things turn out after all that?”

Kathryn snorted, shaking her head at him. She had a lot she wanted to say, about the Reserve, and her friends, and what she thought about his stupid employer, but she could articulate none of it with the gag in her mouth, and trying to talk was making her drool.

Birmingham was within arm’s reach of her, but he moved closer, automatically caressing her cheek and swiping tears away from under her eyes. “I know it seems impossible, but I sat where you’re sitting,” he breathed, his voice so low as to be inaudible to anyone who would just be coming into the room, with her body between him and the door.

Her eyes widened in surprise, confusion.

He shrugged, equivocating a little. “Well, not exactly where you’re sitting, of course, but someone hired these people to grab me, before I worked for them.”

She sneered at him, calling him all kinds of terrible names, and he seemed to expect this, patting the air in a placating gesture.

“I know, I wouldn’t have believed it either, but,” he drew in a shuddering breath that Kathryn, watching his face, watching as he drew his eyes away from hers, did not think this emotion on his part was feigned. “Fortunes change fast.” He looked back up at her then, gray eyes seeming to bore into hers. “I just want you to know you’ve always got a place to go.” He reached up to caress her face, running his thumb across her lips, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, holding onto her face as she tried to pull away, and then he breathed, “New York. 2551 Crescent. Code’s august, 87-67-05” into her skin as he kissed her cheek, then up into her hair as he spoke.

Kathryn’s chest was heaving as he pulled away, smiling gently and running his hand down her face again, his thumb across her lips, as if to seal his words into her mind.

She felt like his words were seared into her brain, like he’d stamped them there the same way he ran his calloused thumb across her lips, but she didn’t know if the brand was the healing heat of a cauterized wound, or the searing fire of agony, had no idea where her thoughts were jumping to, she was so surprised by his words.

The door opened, and she flinched away from it automatically, into Birmingham, a sob tearing its way out of her throat as, unbidden, she imagined getting her elbows broke this time.

“The hell is this?” Richmond asked. “Directives were very specific, Birmingham.”

Birmingham patted her on the cheek as he disengantlged himself from her, thumb swiping across her lips before he was gone, moving around her to stand. “Because you have better things to be doing now, Richmond, is that it?”

Richmond snorted, and Kathryn wondered to what extent Richmond and Birmingham played bad cop and good cop roles out of planning, or out of necessity given their seemingly opposite personalities, vinegar and honey.

(Stop it, Kathryn ordered herself. Stop romanticizing-)

As if he could feel her thinking, She felt a booted foot nudge her in the back. “How’d you feel, girlie?” Richmond wanted to know.

Kathryn swore at him, but froze as she realized Birmingham had not removed the gag from her mouth. Hadn’t wanted to risk her blabbing his words to his coworkers? Or for some other reason? Her heart pounded in her throat as Richmond seemed to realize she was gagged, moving to stand over her to peer at her.

He chuckled, and shrugged, putting his free hand in the air as the other held a kit. “Hey, whatever, man. Do what you gotta do, huh.” He leaned his leg against Kathryn’s back Kathryn as he stepped back over her, and she shuddered away from it, because his tone and words were very different from Birmingham’s, and she did not like it, no matter what she did or did not feel about either one of them.

The door closed, and Kathryn flinched away from movement in front of her.

Birmingham was settling back down on the floor, watching her closely.

She stared back, unable to plead her case that she would keep her mouth shut while she was still unable to speak.

Still, something must have shown on her face, because he rolled his eyes and, while one hand caressed the side of her face, the other eased off the tape enough to let him draw out the gag. She tried to spit it at him, but ended up coughing instead

She coughed once more, then swore colorfully at him for doing that to her. “Ought to gag you while Richmond’s around, see what you think about it,” she grumbled, and as much as she wanted to refuse the water he offered, she didn’t.

“That is the opposite of foreplay,” he deadpanned, and his tone was so serious otherwise that she flinched a little as she looked up at him as she sipped water, but his eyes were dancing. He was making a smutty joke, she realized with jolt, and he suddenly sounded so much like her friend Ollie that Kathryn shuddered, choked a little and nearly aspirated water right back up.

“You’re not supposed to joke that way with your female captives,” she said, coughing a little but smiling nonetheless. “Didn’t they teach you that at asshole captor school?”

He snorted a little, but didn’t take the water in retaliation for the insult like she thought he would. He shrugged. “Might as well not make smutty jokes, especially about Richmond, around any of the captives, regardless of gender,” he muttered, seemingly to himself, as he reached down to pick up something from the floor and tuck it behind him into his kit.

His watch timer went off, and she handed him the water back automatically, but she was staring at him, at the way lines tightened around his nose at the sudden shift in conversation, at the way he himself had shifted the conversation, actually, now that she thought about it, and at the way he looked away from her as he took the water bottle. “He really is a pervert, isn’t he?” She wanted to know, her voice low and intent as she watched what part of his face she could see.

Birmingham looked up at her, sharply, but the door opened before he could say anything.

On impulse (whatever crazy impulse had gotten her here, so whatever), Kathryn reached over and grabbed the gag from him, cramming it into her mouth before pressing the tape back down over her lips.

He ran his hand down the side of her face, running his thumb over her lips as he got to his feet, but Kathryn turned to see that Richmond, and someone else had come in.

She heard someone else moving behind her, and Kathryn sighed as the hoist pulled on her wrists. Richmond moved around and unclipped her wrist restraints from the floor.

“You’re needed in A7,” Richmond said, and Kathryn felt her blood run cold even as she thought, at least this time she was conscious as the hoisting happened, able to stand up, slowly, carefully with the movement of it. It felt good to stretch her legs. The water and the IV were doing her a lot of good. Her knees were painful, but they no longer felt like gravel and ground glass. Her back ached, but no longer felt like ground meat.

Richmond was adjusting her chains, making sure they were connected to the floor, and Birmingham, kit closed and in one hand, caressed the side of her face, running his thumb over her lips.

Did Kathryn imagine it, or did he look at her, glance at Richmond, and glance back at her, before he left? She had no idea, but it set her teeth on edge, the not knowing.

She knew that the feeling she had of trusting Birmingham, whatever his motivations, were false, created, structured. He’d admitted as much. She also knew that Richmond was clearly the bad cop here, and so any of whatever she thought was going on could, and probably was, a set up for that continued psychological payoff, a compelling narrative to lull her into, to assure her compliance while she was here and…

But the good cop bad cop routine was used in interrogations, when intelligence needed to be gathered. Stupid as she surely was for it, Kathryn believed what Birmingham had said about his employer, about this not being an information grab, but a holding pattern until some mystery asshole’s conditions were met.

“What’s the IV for?” It was Australia’s light voice Kathryn heard behind her, who had come into the room.

Richmond reached up, and Kathryn grimaced as he pressed himself against her, chest to thigh, as she tried to lean away from him.

“Hey, hold the fuck still,” he snapped, grabbing her by the face, hand over her mouth, fingers grabbing her left cheek, thumb grabbing her right cheek to get her attention.

Kathryn did, because he was so close to her that his gesture to grab her had made him move against her, all the way down to her knees knocking against his, and it hurt like hell. Maybe she wasn’t as recovered as she’d thought.

“She got beat so bad Birmingham took pity on her,” Richmond called with a snort, looking right down into her face as he said it. He still wore his sunglasses, so she could tell nothing about him except that he, too, was white. Still, something in his tone was not at all nice, made Birmingham’s name and the word ‘pity’ into something foul.

“Isn’t that contraindicated by the directives?” Australia wanted to know, her voice a nervous flutter behind Kathryn. If she picked up on Richmond’s innuendo, she said nothing.

Richmond still held Kathryn by the face as he smirked down at her. He was much stockier than Birmingham, and just about as tall, which was only an inch or two taller than Kathryn, max. “So is the gag, but I’m not gonna fuss, you?”

Kathryn was suddenly glad the gag hid her expression because she knew men like Richmond, knew that outside of his role, this was who he was, what she was seeing.

There was a grimace on her face as she came to this realization, and she was glad he could not see her expression, glad he could not easily see as the lightbulb went off in her head. ‘Got you.’

He was bullying the more timid Australia, bullying her into bending the rules as he was, and he was bullying Kathryn herself because he could, because he liked it. She knew this kind of man, this kind of person, and Birmingham’s comment flashed in her mind, helping her put all the pieces together in a flash of insight so hot it seemed to burn white hot through her mind.

A moment before it happened, as Richmond trailed his free hand up her leg, her abdomen, tracing patterns up her throat, she knew what was going to happen as he traced the shape of the tape across her lips and pressed a hard kiss down over it, pressing his body more tightly against hers as the chains on her ankles and wrists prevented her from moving. But the chains did not stop her head from moving.

Kathryn was ready, could feel his grip on her face go slack as he tensed with other parts of his body. She slammed her head forward into his face, bloodying his nose for what, the second time in as many days? which he had brought far too close to her, lulled by her more vulnerable position since she had been in that chair.

Blood exploded in front of her as she heard, and felt, bone crack, in him. If you had practice headbutting, as she did, it wasn’t hard to mash the very hard plate of bone that was the forehead into the much more sensitive mess of cartilage and bone that was a person’s nose.

He swore and his knee knocked against hers as he backhanded her, and Kathryn screamed as her barely healed knee erupted in agony.

His mask was a mess of blood and gore and his sunglasses had fallen off as he hit her again, and again, and Kathryn was idly interested that he’d gone into punches rather than stay with the backhanding.

He yanked the tape off her mouth, after hitting her in the stomach, pulled the gag from her mouth, and kissed her, bruising her lips before she could bite him.

She swore at him, using every filthy word she’d ever heard in every language she knew, and he promised her terrible things, ‘later.’

It was just punches after that, though, until he caught her once in the face with a huge blow that split her lower lip, her right eyebrow, and cracked her orbital bone.

He must have felt bone crack, or just needed a break, because he paused, chest heaving. He moved forward enough to tip her chin up, to see the damage he’d done, Kathryn guessed he’d want to inspect his work, and so she was ready, spraying his face, and more importantly, his uncovered eyes, with blood.

He sputtered in indignation, tugging up his mask to wipe away her blood, and when the mask now lay too loosely to conceal his face, he just sneered at her, yanking the mask off and throwing it onto the ground.

He was a white man in his late fifties, maybe younger. It was hard to tell with all the blood she’d sprayed on him. He had ice blue eyes and was tanned, with a faint line in a line from the corners of his eyes to over his ears that meant he wore sunglasses often in the sun. He had a scar on his upper lip and another in the side of his neck. He had high cheekbones, and might have been handsome if he weren’t such a black-hearted bastard.

Kathryn was working up to another mouthful of blood, but he moved aside and grabbed her mouth as he’d done before, not letting her spit up on anything but his hand. He dug his fingers into her cheeks, forcing her to spit up her mouthful.

He wiped his handful of spit and blood onto her shoulder, before hitting her again, so hard she saw stars, across the other cheek.

This one wasn’t angled as correctly, so her other eyebrow split and although she could feel that he’d blackened her eye, the bone under that eye didn’t crack. She clicked her tongue at him as he took a step back, out of spitting range, reaching for something in his kit.

Kathryn was panting, but she felt better than she had since Birmingham had told her that there was nothing they wanted from her. That might have been true, Birmingham might not want anything from her, or whatever he did want was confusing to her, nebulous, some future offer, some future promise that one day she would be like him.

But Richmond absolutely wanted something from her, something that had nothing to do with the role he might have been assigned to play, and more to do with the role he played here, because he could.

Kathryn had been dealing with Richmond’s kind of bully for a long time. She scowled as something rose to the surface of her memory and connected with a comment of Birmingham’s. “You do this to Dan, too?” That had been the strangled voice she’d heard, when the door had been opened, whose name she’d heard, who she’d called out to

She was rewarded with real shock, then pleased malice on Richmond’s face at her question. She could see his entire expression, from the slight widening of his eyes as they dartedto something near the door, to a tiny, cruel smile on his lips, and she wasn’t sure if she was pleased or very upset to see that her instinct had been right.

He darted forward and grabbed her mouth again, pulling her towards him into a horrible kiss. Kathryn muffled curses into his mouth as he grabbed her by the back of the neck to deepen the kiss, and she wished her ankle chain were just a bit longer...she was so close to being able to knee him, but couldn’t quite do it, so she settled on trying to yank her body up on the chains so she could drive her elbow into his back when...

A high pitched alarm went off, and she was not surprised when Richmond glanced automatically at the watch on his free hand. He swore colorfully, but let her go and set about packing up his kit.

He kissed her again on his way out, putting his hand over her mouth to stop her spitting on him, but she got in what she wanted to say before he left her line of sight. “I am going to kill you,” she breathed, threat and promise.

He hitched a shoulder, but didn’t comment further. She sighed as the door swung open, letting her eyes close, and flinched with a cry of surprise as a hand ran down along her face and a thumb brushed over her lip, but by the end of the gesture she recognized who it had to be, and she had begun to shake so hard she could hardly see straight.

Kathryn couldn’t help it, she let out a sob of relief at seeing Birmingham’s face, his sunglasses perched atop his head and his gray gaze taking her in. She watched as he seemed to inventory her new injuries, and clicked his tongue at what he found.

He lowered her to the floor like before, but it wasn’t until he was running his hands over her head, arms, legs, that she sobbed again, began to cry in earnest, tension begining to ease from her body. “You should see the other guy,” she said, her head in her hands.

Birmingham shushed her, brushing the hair out of her face.

She felt something against her hands, and flinched, but he just offered the water bottle. She sipped, and there was no alarm this time. She frowned at him, but he shook his head a little so she didn’t ask. She set the water bottle down when she was full, and startled, but didn’t say anything as Birmingham detached the IV line from the empty bag above her, and replaced it with a new one.

He was cleaning her up, running antiseptic wipes along her hands, arms, torso, and face, making little sympathetic shushing noises at the cuts in her face, and he even put a bandage on the cut in her face, helping to close her poor cracked orbital bone, before running gentle, careful hands over her.

He had moved much closer to her over the course of his treatment, and as he wiped antiseptic down her back, shushing her as she made pained noises, he reached up to caress her face, ran his thumb across her lips, and breathed, “You got him to admit what he did to Jordan. His hurting them was not a directive from the employer. Richmond’s in very deep shit, thanks to you,” into her ear.

Kathryn shuddered at his words, because there was a lot to take in there, and she leaned into Birmingham as he murmured compliments and tried to let him assure her that she’d done okay, that something here had not been for nothing.

She must have dozed, but when she woke, Birmingham was still there. He seemed to be reading something on a tablet that was on the other side of his legs from her, blocked from her view.

Birmingham shushed her, running soothing hands over her as she woke, but Kathryn had other plans.”That gag was contraindicated,” she breathed, keeping her voice to below a whisper. There was apparently a camera somewhere in the room, by the door, if she had to guess, based on the way Birmingham had placed himself so far, with her always between him and the door.

He chuckled and caressed her face, running his thumb across her lips. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you love?”

Kathryn gave a shuddering sob of a laugh, because no, obviously, she was not. She was off the deep end, so off the deep end she didn’t know where that left her, so no, she was not going to rat him out.

“I am so susceptible to this shit and I am just so tired of it,” she sighed, not even caring that she rested her head on Birmingham’s shoulder, and that he not only hadn’t prevented it, but was gently rubbing her back in careful little circles that didn’t intersect with any injuries.

He chuckled. “Don’t you reckon those healing mutations make us even more susceptible to this kind of shite than regular people?” He mused, running his hand through her hair.

Kathryn sighed, but instead of answering, she heard herself ask, “Did you hit me in the solar plexus?”

There was a pause, before he simply said, “Yes.”

Kathryn nodded. She’d thought he had, the timing made sense, but she’d been curious if he’d admit to it. It fucked up his ‘good cop’ order.

She sighed, but couldn’t lean on him again after that. She had more play in the chains than she had before, so she rubbed her eyes with her hands. “I dunno if we’re more susceptible to it, or if I just have the worst decision making paradigm ever.”

He chuckled again, and shrugged, and she found herself almost looking forward to the predictable caress down her face and thumb across her lips in the split second before it happened. “For what it’s worth, love, I’m grateful to you for getting rid of Richmond for all of us.”

She turned to stare at him, her brain racing back through memories. The gag had been his idea, she’d thought to keep his safehouse secret but it had been the trigger that had made Richmond snap. “You,” she breathed, wide-eyed. “You set it up, on purpose?”

He tapped her on the nose, before shifting to remove another empty IV bag and replace it with another.

She put her hands to her lips, frowning as she thought about that, about his tacit confirmation. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to know more.

She glanced up at him, but it was impossible to tell read anything from his expression, which was all covered except for his eyes, which he’d deliberately uncovered. The coveralls and outfit covered up everything else. “How’d you know it’d work?” She breathed as he settled back down, her eyes fixed on him, hungry for any details she could get as he answered her question.

He shrugged as he reached back in his kit. She winced a little, but he offered her a stack of protein bars.

She sighed and tore into one, devouring it as she watched him. If there had been a rule against her eating solids, apparently the issue with Richmond had rendered it a moot point. She did not care.

“I didn’t. But I recognized you, from the Reserve of course, and the dossier our employer gave us, and knew that I’d have Richmond on shift with me…” He shrugged, but she saw his eyes tighten, muscles around his nose crinkle in what might have been a grimace as he picked up tubing or plastic that might have been from the IV bag and tossing them into his kit.

“The odds were decent, if you could push them a little into your favor,” she supplied, wanting more information on him, on Richmond.

He shrugged, reaching out to brush his fingers across the bandage he’d put on her face. She frowned, but he seemed satisfied, with the distraction, maybe, and caressed her face and ran his thumb across her lips.

She was ready, had just been using one hand to eat the protein bar, and dropped it as she grabbed his hand and in a quick twist, had his pinky bent back against the rest of his hand. One twist, and she could break it, easily. Another twist after that, and she could break his entire wrist. She had the leverage advantage, with him leaning forward to touch her, and the wrist restraints just gave her a very solid tool to use  as well.

He grinned at her. “You know I heal like you do, love,” he said, as if she could forget him stabbing himself.

She shook her head. “I know you heal like I do, so everything hurts, every time,” she reminded him somberly.

Her mean trick was rewarded by a snarl across his features, a flash of expression: a tightening across his eyes, a flashing there as he looked away, a quick intake of breath, quickly let out. “It wasn’t just you and Jordan he hurt, is that what you want me to say?” He asked, his voice very low, and his eyes locked with hers for an instant, and she felt his gaze jolt through her before he looked away from her. “I can spin you a lovely tale or you can take my word for it that I have not lied to you since promising I would not.”

Instead of releasing her grip on him, Kathryn tightened it for a moment as she processed the implication of his words. “You lied to me before that,” she said, her breathing picking up as she thought back through their interactions. It was hard, given that so much of her time was muddied by injuries and pain.

She hazarded an educated guess. “The blood draws. They’re useless.”

If he smiled, it did not reach his eyes where she could see it. He tapped her on the nose with his free hand. She frowned, and immediately let him go when she realized he was making absolutely no effort to free his hand from its precarious position in her grip. He either did not care if she broke his finger, or wrist, or was doing a very good job pretending not to care. Either way, she did not like it, no matter how she was ‘supposed to’ feel about grabbing one of her captors.

He reached up to caress her cheek, and rub his thumb along her lips, but stopped his hand part-way there, and let it drop.

Kathryn flinched, and did the gesture, but to him, using her right hand, her left clanking uselessly. He was close enough that she could do it, and he did not move away like he thought she might, especially after she’d threatened to break his bones.

She traced her hand up his face, mostly on mask, but let her fingers linger on the skin she could feel by his temple. She ran her thumb over where his mouth pressed against the white mask, and saw his eyes flutter closed at her touch.

Kathryn gasped at this reaction, surprised even by her own daring for touching him in the first place, and they were so close that she watched his eyes open, and then he took her hand off his face and set it back on her leg.

Kathryn sighed, and suddenly this was all too much, too new, too terrible, even too interesting, which was much, much worse than the pain that sparked like wildfires all through her body. She dropped her head into her hands.

When she woke next, it was to Birmingham’s low voice. “C’mon love, you’re all done.”

She flinched, not sure what he meant as he lowered the hoist, not having remembered being chained back up at all, but her legs were able to support her weight, with hardly any pain in her knees at all. She held still as Birmingham made shushing noises at her mutterd cursing as she flexed her shoulders, but he did not reach up to touch her face, which hurt somehow, which made Kathryn angry.

She gritted her teeth as he connected her wrist restraints to her ankle restraints via another chain that he held the leader of. “Not going to lie, love,” she said, mimicking his accent more deliberately now, as opposed to the way her vowels had been elongating, rounding out she’d been doing by instinct, mimicking her long-gone father’s British accent. “This is not my idea of foreplay.”

He chuckled, which almost made her smile, but then he drew black fabric from his pocket. She automatically backed up a step, putting her hands up defensively.

His eyes tightened in sympathy as he made a little clicking noise. “Sorry love. You’re getting out of here, so there’s a bag on your head. Rules are rules.”

She hissed as he drew the bag over her head, every muscle tensing for a fight, and so it took her a moment to recognize the hand on her shoulder as his. She drew in a shaky breath and forced herself to follow along, and to listen as hard as she could.

She was moved up a hallway, turned right, then left, then right again, oh shit were they leading her around on purpose? And then the bag was removed and she squinted in brightest sunlight as she was harried into a van.

Birmingham was there, the only person in the back with her as he threaded her ankle restraints into the loop built there in the back of the van.

“No parting injuries to sell it, huh?” She asked, but her voice shook too much for the joke to land correctly.

His sunglasses were back on, but she thought she could hear a smile in his voice. “No, love. Just a drop off. You’re free to go.”

Kathryn flinched, wanted to tell him to come with her, but she had no onearthly idea how to do that. Instead, she sat in the back of the van, their knees touching, and tried not to think of anything at all.

Kathryn frowned as they hit a bump in the road and she saw a flash of light in her peripheral vision. She flinched, and looked again, but the bag still covered her head.

“Something the matter, love?” Birmingham’s voice was quiet, but insistent.

Kathryn’s mouth had fallen open a little as he spoke. She saw small blue triangles coming from his direction. “What’d you lot give me to dampen my sound control?” She asked, her voice shaking.

She couldn’t see him, but she could feel the muscles in his leg tense from there they touched. “Apparently not enough,” he muttered, and before Kathryn could say or do anything else, he leaned towards the front of the van and banged hard, three times, on the separator between them and the driver.

Kathryn startled as the van began to change direction, and the slight screeching sounds of the tires might have been disturbing, but they were accompanied by the faint yellow sounds screeching tires always made, and Kathryn knew all at once that she had full control of her sound manipulation again.

The van screeched to a halt, and Kathryn did several things very fast. First, she yanked the bag off her head. Then, she gathered up the yellow screeching sound the way someone else might quickly gather tangled up earphones at the bottom of a purse, messy but effective. She twisted that power and slammed it into the metal ring that held her chains to the floor of the van. Free, but still chained, she lunged forward, using some of the light red, tinkling, clanking sounds of the chain to give her movement a bit of bite, she pushed Birmingham’s hands out of the way as he raised them.  She stood and leaned over him.

The van was slowing down now, coming to a sudden halt as a result of Birmingham’s signal.

She had the angle advantage on him, and her hands thrummed with the sound she could feel all around her, their heartbeats, the van’s engine, and more sounds, she knew, if she concentrated. But that’s not what she was concentrating on, right this moment.

She reached forward and tugged,yanked his mask down so she could see the bottom of his face. Slightly tanned, dimpled chin, stubble, a cut on one cheekbone. She caressed his face, brushed her fingers across his lips, and then sat back down, hard, on the bench seat across from him.

Less than two seconds later, the door to the van was opened from the outside

Birmingham was on his feet, mask in place, and pulled her to her feet by one elbow. Kathryn moved with him, and stepped down holding up her hand as they were in bright sunlight, the van pulled up on the side of the road. They were at the back of the van, shielded somewhat from passersby by the open van doors, but that would not last for long. One man, masked and covered like Birmingham, worked quickly to unlock the padlocks of her restraints.

Birmingham himself was rubbing his chin as he looked at her, but he reached back into the van and handed her a bundled blue...something. “Parting gift,” he said. He did not touch her as she took the shirt, and pulled it on as the chains on her wrists fell away, but he did say, “Be safe, love,” before he and the other man climbed into the van, and it sped away.

Kathryn blinked in the bright afternoon light as she tried to get her bearings.

“There she is!” The familiar teal voice washed up the street, and Kathryn sighed as she heard it, easing muscles that had not eased since however long ago that she’d been grabbed.

She turned and was nearly knocked over as Ollie hugged her fiercely. Kathryn returned the hug, but hissed a little in pain.

Ollie froze, stepping away from Kathryn, her wide, unnaturally teal eyes bright in her light brown face.

Kathryn just shook her head, and pulled her friend into a hug. “Watch some horror movies while I was gone?” Kathryn asked, feeling her friend shudder a little at the comment.

Kathryn sighed with relief. She could work to put this behind her, but they all had some work to do to figure out what was going on and who was Birmingham’s mysterious ‘employer…’

Sixteen days later, Kathryn found herself in Long Island, on the run from having been framed for the murder of her best friend. No one believed her, she could hardly believe herself what had happened (Ollie, dead…) Some part of her brain short-circuited just at the thought. She gritted her teeth and forced herself up the street, peering at the numbers on the houses.

Crescent street was full of fairly well-to-do places. Old homes, but in a nice place. She hadn’t been found because she’d left all her electronics in her room at home, and because she knew Karine well enough to be able to evade her.

Kathryn found the correct house, 2551, and knocked on the door. It was very late, but she had nowhere else to go. Her family had been gone since she was a kid. The people who had become her family all thought she had killed Ollie. Kathryn drew the collar of her coat further up as she waited.

She finally heard movement on the other side of the old wooden door, and frowned as she realized the door had no peep hole. A voice spoke, nasal, American, small blue triangles that sluggishly filtered from his side of the door to hers.

“When did Japan invade China, sparking World War II in the Pacific?”

Kathryn frowned, but said, “August.”

“When was Spartacus’ slave uprising against the Romans?”

She frowned again, but said, “87, BCE I guess.”

There was a slightly longer pause, then, “In what year did Gagarin make history?”

Kathryn said, “‘67.”

“The Exposition Universelle was held in Paris in nineteen- what?”

Kathryn spared a thought at the fact that the man’s French accent sounded quite good, before saying, “Oh-five,” and there was a pause, and then she heard dark gray thumps of locks unlatching.

She knew he had given her this information, but Kathryn was not at all expecting to see Birmingham barefooted, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting blue t-shirt, his black hair sticking up at the back. “It’s half past two in the morning,” he said, and the nasal American accent was gone as he looked at her.

She pulled a picture of Ollie from her coat and showed held it out to him. “They killed her,” she said, gritting her teeth as pain seemed to rip through her, trying to hang on so she could finish. “And they said I did it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know. Come on in, it’s freezing.”

Kathryn froze as she started just taking her first step towards him. She noticed that he had hair-fine scars on his arms, just like she did, and continued into the house as he spoke.

Birmingham grinned at her. They were nearly the same height, she realized as he opened the door and stood aside so she could enter. “Never got round to talking about my primary mutation,” he said, as if they’d met by chance at the supermarket once. “You ever heard of a power called precognition?” Kathryn stared up at him as the front door shut behind him.

[elejah-verse]

How To Hold My Heart/4

Fanfiction 

Part 4

Elijah Mikaelson x Elena Gilbert

AU TVD/TO  short story

a/n: Elena and Elijah worked together in a Law Firm. One night he hooked up with her friend Hayley, and continued seeing her. Elena, had always secretively loved Elijah, but never told him how she felt. Hayley fell pregnant and Elijah married her, and Elena went to live in Toronto, accepting a better job, but also to forget Elijah. Will life bring them together?

Thank so much for reading xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @goddessofthunder112 @elejahforever @hides2000

_________

Days after

And, so Elena kissed her daughter goodbye and flew away to New York for a long weekend of elaborate parties surrounding Caroline and Klaus' wedding.

Straight from the airport, she was taken to the Bachelorette party and so the fun began. And it was a girly extravaganza. Everyone knew that Caroline's parties were to be remembered for centuries if not millenia.

The next morning, Elena woke up with a big hangover. A song still banging in her head from the night before. She realized she was in Caroline and Klaus’ new house, but at that moment all she wanted to have a shower and check her messages and coffee. A double mokkachino

As she got ready and made sure all was fine with her daughter, she ventured down to find the kitchen. She could hear someone shuffling some papers and as she got in the kitchen, she stood still as if she got trapped in some strange vacuum space.

"Elijah?!"- she let out in a half breath.

"Elena! Hello there!"- he said giving her a little smile.

Elena stood like someone had completely taken her whole being from this plane and entered it somewhere in a hazy dream world, and yet it was a reality that kicked her like the ice storm. And if she was to come back a 1000 times and it would always be the same.

"Hello"- she uttered with a mental gulp.

__

"Morning, love!"- Klaus said to a very groggy Caroline, who had just opened her eyes, still not clear if this was reality or dream.

"Mornin’"- she uttered faintly rubbing her eyes. Then as if stung by bee she sat up all in panic.

"OMG!!"- she said getting up looking for her robe.

"What's up?"- Klaus looked at her aaonished with her sudden frantic behaviour.

"What's up??!!"- Caroline looked at herself in the mirror- her make up was smudged and her hair all fuzzy. She rushed to the bathroom to take it off, she clued Klaus in on why she had gone slightly mad-

"I totally forgot that Elijah had come to stay with us last night!"

“Yes - so?”-Klaus looked at Caroline gone out.

"Ok, ahm- well, it's Elena"- Caroline now told Klaus why she was so flustered about Elena meeting Elijah and why she went to Toronto and that all these years she had to keep the lid on everything concerning Elijah as if he never existed.

"She had it that bad??"- Klaus was surprised.

"Sometimes people fall for the unavailable guy and they try to shake it, but it just won't go away"- Caroline said.

"I know that you are terribly romantic and I love you for it, but- I think you are blowing it out of proportion!"

Klaus now took his bride to be by the waist pulling her towards her, kissing her.

*

Meanwhile in the kitchen

Caroline was right about the impact Elijah would have upon Elena. Seeing him so unexpectedly hit her like an avalanche and her hello was accompanied with a problem in her air supply as if something got stuck in her throat.

She went straight to the counter and finding a glass in the cupboard, she poured herself some water from a water dispenser.

"Are you all right?"- Elijah inquired.

"Yeah, fine"- Elena reassured him after she took a few sips -"just dehydrated- one cocktail too many-it was Caroline's last night of freedom, you know- we let loose-"

"It must have been a really good night!"- Elijah said-"sit down, I will make fresh coffee and scrambled eggs?"

"Yeah, ahm-you don't have to.Coffee is more than enough!"- Elena said.

There he was, being this great guy, considerate, sweet, and the heart she had switched off, screamed at her reason to let it beat again. No. Stop it, Elena. But, I can't. You have to, Elena. Loving him has given you nothing but heartache, remember.

"Here you are"- he served her the espresso and a toasted bagel.

"Thanks"- Elena said-”Ok - ahm - so you are - here - early- though it’s none of my business.”

“Oh, I sold the loft. And haven’t found anything yet. Had to move out, and Klaus and Caroline offered to stay with them- till I buy something.”- Elijah explained as he sat down.

“Right. I am sorry - for having asked -”- Elena bit herself for asking why he was there.

"So, how is Toronto? You just left and forgot that we existed! If it wasn't for Caroline we wouldn't know anything about you?! So, you had a daughter, I hear!?"

Caroline kept him informed-Elena thought. And he cared to keep up with all surrounding her.

"I did"- Elena replied-" she is one and a half"

"Still can't picture you as a mom, I thought that career was everything for you!"

"Not everything"- Elena now said as she took a sip of the coffee.

"Sorry, I just-you were so dedicated to work and having accepted to head Maxwell's legal team. I didn't mean to say that-I put my foot in it!"-Elijah was apologetic.

"Hey- it's fine. I still love my work a lot, and am juggling both. Enzo is a great dad -and we have a nanny, too."

"So, Enzo - I was wondering who would sweep you off of your feet after all"- Elijah said.

As he said that, Elena felt as if there was no oxygen for a moment yet again.        

"Enzo and I -we were just together with like no strings and then I got pregnant. He is a great guy, but- that's it."- Elena explained- "Ah,I am sorry, Elijah- I heard about Hayley- ahm- we used to be bffs -but- it just- there is no excuse- I should have called to tell you when Caroline told me - I am sorry."

"Yeah- ahm- thank you."- Elijah said. He moved the plate. And awkwardness descended between them.

Elijah felt that Elena was holding back and he didn't remember her as such. And his instinct told him that it was the talk of loss and grief that would make people become silent, so he changed the subject asking her about Jen and if she had a photo of her.

"Yes- of course- like thousands. Here."- she now opened the gallery icon on her phone and loads of photos of her daughter sprung up.

Caroline and Klaus appeared in a bit and joined in the conversation, gushing over the photos of Jen and then talked kids. Caroline saying she wanted at least three. Klaus was all wide-eyed. They then all teased him. As they finished breakfast, both Caroline and Elena went to get dressed as Caroline said that they still had tones to do till her wedding day on Monday.

In an hour or so, they were out. And as soon as they got out of the house and Caroline now was apologizing for the fact that she hadn't mentioned that Elijah would also be staying at the house.

"I should have warned you, but- it was just crazy the last few days, plus you banned me to talk about him, remember!?"'

"It's fine"- Elena said.

"Seriously, it's fine???!!! You are kidding me, right??!!"- Caroline now ripped into Elena not believing what she was hearing- " It didn't kill you seeing him????"

"Kill? Caroline?!!"

"Right- wrong choice of words! Hey, but you are breathing!! So, you're fine?!? No stomach butterlies? No heart bleeding??"-Caroline continued digging.

Elena stopped, looked at the sky, taking a breath and then looked at Caroline- and Caroline concluded for her friend-

"You are not over him!!"

Elena sighed -"Huh- what is this!? I wish I could cut my heart out and then it would be done or get hypnotized to hate him!!"

"It doesn't work that way!!"- Caroline said.

"Right! This weekend is about your wedding! And that's all we are going to focus on!!"-Elena said decisively.

"Elena, you're shutting down again!"-Caroline nearly screamed at her.

"I hope they still have those yummy doughnuts with caramel topping!"-Elena said and now carried on walking. Her phone rang and it was Bonnie, who was already waiting for them in their favourite café.

Caroline was fuming inside because of Elena's resolve, but there was nothing she could do at the moment. They had always respected each other's wishes, even though they were not in agreement with it at times.

And the weekend carried on with the grand Mikaelson family dinner with other of their friends and collegues. Elena and Elijah acted as friends, as they always had done when she still tworked for the Mikaelson's. It was Caroline who now started plotting with Bonnie how to break Elena's defences. She was happy and she felt the need to make two people she cared about be happy too.

___

That evening

"Here is to you surviving the Mikaelson dinner- do you know that this now makes you family?!"- Elijah said to Elena handing her a glass of champagne.

"Really? How?"- she took the glass off of him.

"You are the Maid of honour!"- Elijah said.

"I didn't know this makes us family?!"- Elena chuckled a bit. Inside she was burning with thousand knots making her stomach churn. She wanted to escape and not move away from him ever - all this was playing like a mad tug of war in her heart.

She didn't want to get drunk, as she knew she could not trust herself with him. She put the glass away after a tiny sip.

"So, can I see your speech?"- Elijah said.

"My speech? Isn't that your responsibility?"- Elena shot at him.

"Yeah, and I am stuck with it- I wish he asked Kol to be his best man- all this just brings memories"-

"Your wedding- you must miss her, especially on occasions like this"- Elena then said.

"No.- Elijah said somewhat in a cold manner which came across a tad bit unusual. Elijah sipped the champagne down and then put a strange sour smile on.

Instinctively, Elena put her hand on his arm as if she understood the raging mix of emotions that were underneath the pleasant self-assured exterior.

He looked at her and the look streamed unrest but a dear familiarity saying that she knows the way he feels and that she was there for him.

and then Elena's phone rang and she pulled her hand away now looking at the display-

"Enzo-"- she said- "I have to take this"- and she walked away so she could talk.

Elijah stood looking at her as she walked out onto the balcony. Rebekah was not far seeing the moment Elena and Elijah shared.

"Flirting with the maid of honour- I saw you- don't deny it- "- Rebekah teased.

"Who is denying it"- Elijah said back at his sister.

"Oh! Really?”- Rebekah smiled-”Good for you.”

“We have always been- friends. She never really saw me as - you know. She was always into bad boys with motor bikes and leather jackets. I am not her type.”

“Oh, please. If we put you in a white T-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket - she would not know what hit her.”

Elijah now smiled at his sister- “What is this? Since when do you play match-maker?”

“Since I saw the way you looked at her”- Rebekah said-”You are so into her.”

“Don’t do anything. I warn you.”- Elijah said to his sister as he knew what she was like.

“Oh, come on, Elijah. Caroline said that she is available.”

“And lives in Canada.”- Elijah now said-”and - I just don’t know - just let it be, all right?”

“Ah, all right.”- Rebekah puffed away, and as Stefan Salvatore now stopped dancing with Lexi Branson, the blonde Mikaelson now trailed off to grab him for the next dance. 

Elijah sipped away his Champagne and now went to the balcony, finding Elena having finished her conversation.

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. They lost Mrs Cuddles in the park and Jen was playing up, not wanting to fall asleep without it.”- Elena replied. 

“That’s a major crisis.”- Elijah said.

“It so is.”

“I hope there is a good substitute.”- Elijah now asked,

“Enzo went to buy the same teddy, but, unfortunately, nothing can beat the Original -”

“So, that’s it? Is there anything that console her?”

“I am afraid not.”- Elena said-”but - life does that and - she will have to somehow get over it.”

“You are harsh.”

“No. Just realistic.”- Elena said-”There is one remedy. Enzo will play her favourite lullaby on his guitar till she falls asleep.”

“He plays a guitar - “- Elijah now said taking another glass of Champagne from the waiter that just by.

“You played a piano once - at the Christmas party?”- Elena now remembered.

“Yeah, I did. You remember that?”

“Yes. You were good.”

“I don’t know. Must have had too much Bourbon.”- Elijah said. 

And as they walked now slowly back in, a woman now came rushing towards Elijah, and taking hold of his hand. 

“Sorry, but - we need you to referee this.”

And she dragged him now away, leaving Elena behind. She could see him shrugging his shoulders as - sorry, but Elena waved it off as ok. Being joined now by Bonnie and Damon, she tuned to them.

“I am tired.”- Elena now said and asked them if they would drive her back to Caroline’s house.

********

A few days after

Elena put her headphones on as the plane took off. She closed her eyes and only one picture kept repeating in her head.

Flashback

"Dance?" - Elijah asked Elena after Klaus and Caroline finished with their wedding dance.

She accepted hand and they walked out to the dance floor.

"Everything all right?"- he asked.

"Yes. Why?"- Elena gulped a bit as she felt his hand sit on her back making her tremble a bit.

"It feels like you are miles away- is little Jen all right?"

"She is fine."- Elena replied -" just-" she now looked at him and stopped moving away from him- "feel sick- Sorry-" and walked away from him.

He was stunened for just a milisecond and then walked after her into the garden.

Elena rubbed her forehead a bit. Why could she not keep her emotions at check, she was mad at herself. The heart, she thought was ice, thawed the moment she saw him standing in the kitchen greeting her warmly. Him calling her name now brought her back from her thoughts. He gently touched her arm saying - "Shall I get a medic?"-

Elena turned around - "No,no- I am better- I don't know what happened- just felt faint- probably cos I hardly ate anything today"- she invented.

"Oh, we will soon remedy that. Let me get you a plate full of canapes at least for starters"- he said and disappeared.

Elena wanted to disappear herself. Bonnie had noticed them walking away and now came to Elena asking her what had happened. Elena reassured Bonnie that nothing major was happening and that she should not worry and go back to the party and as Elijah returned with a plate of food, Bonnie left them as it was clear that those two needed time to themselves and that they had to deal with emotions jumbled up. Caroline often said that Bonnie had witchy powers as she could see things noone could.

Elena took some of the food and seemed to relax a bit.

"Thank you so much"- she said-"but, seriously, you don't have to stay with me."

"You are the maid of honour -it's my duty to look after you"- he joked.

"Oh, really?"

"Caroline said so, and -"

"Caroline?!"- Elena interrupted him.

"She is the bride and you do as she says-it's her day"- Elijah continued-

"What else did she say?"- Elena said slightly peeved off.

"Nothing much-"- Elijah said casually, but Elena knew now that Caroline must have added something more.

Elena stood up declaring she was perfectly fine again and that they should return to their  maid of honor and best man duty. Elijah followed her back to the party and she carried on being the exemplary maid of honour concentrating solely on that. As they saw the happy married couple leave for their honeymoon, Elena was ready to go as well.

"Right, ahm"- she turned to Elijah-"I am heading off- just wanted to tell you that it was great seeing you again."

"The pleasure was mine"- he said cheerfully-"I hope you will not continue being a stranger-"

"No"- Elena slipped.

"You owe me a dance!"- he continued.

"I guess I do"- Elena replied-"well, see you"

And then they both with yet again enveloped with awkwardness stood like enchanted in the moment and by the power of some strange force they neared one another. But both stood like frozen. 

Elena now stepped back - “Ahm - bye”

“Bye”- Elijah slipped and Elena turned and walked out into the night as if midnight struck and she had to float away like one of the fairy-tale characters.

Elijah was left gazing in the night. His heart bumping a beat like it did the night they nearly kissed so many years ago.

On the plane back to Toronto, Elena played all the scenes of their meetings together. Her heart was in bigger turmoil than before. "Elijah-" she whispered to herself-"damn you!"

__________

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: Watching Over You

—

“Will someone fucking help me?!”

He found himself snarling into his headset, jaw clenched and hands tight around the controller as he struggled to extract his character from the line of fire he was currently pinned under. Playing healer was the absolute worst thing; Grey was one death away from suggesting they switch to deathmatch so he could murder each and every one of his team mates.

“Jesus, Grey, don’t get your panties in a twist.” The quip came through in that almost sleep-roughed Brooklyn voice that he’d come to learn belonged to the tallest of the old Ghostfacers crew. Kenny Spruce, only ever going by Spruce and the one time he’d called him Kenny had resulted in a ten minute rant from the man himself and then a very offpitch version of Dangerzone from the other two Ghostfacer alumni on the channel, gave a laugh as he responded, but Grey knew he was kidding when he saw the Genji appear up the side of the building he’d been trapped on with his cyber-agility before unleashing his typical shuriken attack on the three enemies that had been surrounding the party-healer left alone without support. “What you even doing up here, man? Didn’t we say you’d stay with payload this round?”

“Yeah, but that was a stupid fucking tactic.” Grey hissed back, his anger dipping slightly as all three enemies are taken out and his character’s passive regen can start up again. “Plus they just blasted the shit out of me to start with, had to get out of the way for a bit.”

“Fair enough. I got him sorted, guys.” Spruce sounded amused still, and Grey could almost feel him nodding as if they were all in the same room and not spread across the entire country.

***

Getting a regular team together had been Harry’s idea. Something about getting his friends to all be friends, and then it turned into some kind of propoganda plan to help out Grey’s reputation with some of the more open-minded hunters.

It has started with Grey and Harry just playing in random match up together shortly after the game came out when Harry’d decided to bring the game and his extra screen over with him. Usually Grey wasn’t huge on FPS’ but this was bright and colourful, and he really began getting suckered into the art style and the backstories of the characters the more Harry walked him through it. He’d started out using Tracer due to it being Harry’s second so he could talk Grey through the best ways to play and use the character, but after a few random match up games, he’d learned pretty quickly no one liked playing healer and someone had to suck it up and roll that way, and who better than him?

About a month later, Harry had called him up and asked if he was free to join him and two of his old Ghostfacer friends that they were just starting to get back in touch with for a few games. Jo had shaken her head from where she’d sat with a few case files and books open around her when he’d asked if the noise would bother her or not, and Grey’d signed in and joined up with them pretty quickly. That his introduction to two of Harry’s best friends before the bar was running about Caduceus Staffing the pair as if he’d worked with them for as many years as his friend had put him off to a good footing. Ed, their Reaper or Reinhart depending on the rest of the team combination, was more than happy after a few rounds to question if Grey’d be available to join them more often in future. He had barely kept the smile off his face, and heard a lot of puking noises from the other guys through his headset when Jo’d leaned over and kissed him after the next round rather noisly.

The four of them continued to play, several nights a week every week, for the next three months and Grey had begun to think of the other two men as some of his closest friends as well.

—

Hey Grey, the boys are actually free and coming up to visit next weekend, you good to come round to the bar for a few drinks and a BBQ?

Harry’s text had made him feel almost giddy the moment he’d seen it, that he was being invited along to an event with ‘the boys’ felt unusual but also so normal all at once. There was a flash of concern about the bar and the safety measures that had once again been put in place cutting him off from being able to agree, until his phone buzzed again three times in quick succession.

Sorry man, forgot about the Iron Jo said we can do BBQ at yours We’ll be round Saturday

That giddy feeling was back immediately upon seeing it. Not only was Harry willing to change his plans to fit Grey in along with the rest of his friends, which somehow made him feel both upset for making those plans have to change but also so good that his friend cared enough to change them for him, but Jo had already okayed the idea of four guys hanging out, drinking beers and taking over the backyard and/or kitchen without a moments hesitation from the sound of it. Facilitating his making new friends, and helping him without it feeling stifling.

His nervous energy had lasted all the way through to the weekend, and Jo had given up even rolling her eyes at him as he’d cleaned up and tidied the living room, kitchen and backyard for the fourth time that morning. She was more focussed on simply getting the minute steaks defrosted and potato salad she claimed her mom used to make prepped for the afternoon.

It felt strange in a way to put a face to a voice and name as the three men had arrived. It felt stranger still for him of all people to find that concept strange, he’d practically invented putting a name and face to a disembodied voice after all. However, the odd mix seemed even stranger when he realised he’d been added to the equation.

Spruce was not what he had expected - almost 6″3 and a patchy beard growing alongside the full black ensemble and glasses. It matched the quiet yet rumbly voice Grey was used to, and he definitely seemed friendly enough from the immediate fist bump greeting as he’d headed through the house to the backyard as Grey’s waved instruction.

Ed matched exactly to what Harry had told Grey of before, and even recognised vaguely from some old video he’d been shown by either Harry or Jo once upon a time. However he’d stopped dyeing both his hair and shaving his facial hair if the dark hair and fully developed beard was anything to go by. Ed even pulled him into a one armed, chest bump-back hit move as his own greeting, and Grey had to bite down a smile of his own realising he wasn’t dwarfed at all by this friend of Harry’s like the other one.

The afternoon had been as if all of them had known eachother for years, talking easily and sharing ciders or beer or soft drink depending on who it was throughout the afternoon until Jo’d called out that lunch had been ready. Spruce had made a joke originally about women in the kitchen and how it’s supposed to be the man’s job to cook a BBQ, but it had been the one and only awkward moment of the afternoon - especially as he’d quivered under Jo’s death glare and Harry had whispered something loudly about not wanting to piss her off ever.

Excepting that moment, all four men had had a great afternoon which had bled into evening and ended up with all four crowded in the front lounge with a second PSN from the bar brought along and playing a few drunken deathmatches.

Jo had brought in the ordered pizza around the end of the first hour of rounds, and Grey had even felt comfortable enough around the other’s to drag her into his lap and try to show her the ropes of the game.

“Yeah, lets teach the little lady how to play, should be fun as.” Spruce’s comment sounded a little too on the edge of asking for trouble, but from what Grey could remember he was about eight beers in and given he’d lost the last four rounds despite sticking to his main Genji, there was clearly a disconnect somewhere in his head. “Pretty little thing like you Jojo probably don’t know nothing about games, aye?”

“Bet she only plays those girly simulation games.” Ed added on, a drunken smirk on his face as he looked over at the pair of them cuddled up on one of the arm chairs from his spot beside Harry on the main couch. Harry for his part looked like he was too bemused by his mates comments and the fact he knew Jo could destroy the pair of them in her sleep to correct them as Jo had snarled in response.

“Fuckin’ bring it on, dickwads.” Her words were fighting words, and Grey didn’t even think about it impacting his points as Jo’d taken his controller off of him and switched characters at the loading screen for their next round. Somehow it seemed to fit when she chose Soldier 76; and he didn’t miss the way Jo looked over at Harry for an imperceptable nod from the researcher before she fully selected it. “Get ready to die, bitches.”

“After you, girlie.”

It barely surprised Grey when it turned into a bloodbath immediately, nor that the moment the game started Jo’s Soldier had Spruce’s Genji trapped and dead within thirty seconds. It also didn’t surprise him as he noticed Harry’s Winston avoided her character and as such her wrath like the plague. Ed’s Reinhart was the next dead, and for the next three minutes as their death tallies continued to be counted up and ranked against the other four unknown players in the round that Grey’s username was sitting up at the very, very top with a healthy ten-kill margin above the next highest.

Throwing the controller into his lap a little too harshly as the round finished, Jo’s play clearly trumping anyone else as well as the screen showing through a 10 kill spree of all headshots as Play Of The Game she’d enacted about halfway through the match time, the blonde had given the two newcomers a sneer before gesturing for their pup to get up from where she was seated and heading upstairs with a “I’ll leave you boys to it” over her shoulder. Grey couldn’t help the tiny smirk that started up at the flabergasted look on both other men’s faces before they started up the next round.

It was another two beers and almost ten comments about “Damn, that play though” before Harry decided to let the other’s in on that they’d just gotten schooled by a real shooter and none of them had started another round until the bitching about “unfair advantages” had died down some twenty minutes later. Another three beers and Harry was summoning an Uber, Ed was wrapping Grey up in the tighest hug he’d experienced from an inebriated man with a lot of tears and “where were you when we needed another Facer?”, and Spruce had then dog piled in on it with a call about how “damn cool Harry’s new mate” was and “you sure your girlfriend isn’t single” before Harry chased the pair of visiting friends into the waiting Uber and shared a bemused look with Grey as they all parted ways for the night.

After that, Grey knew he now have two more good friends, even if they were a bit weird in their own way.

—

It was another month before the fifth member of their little group joined them for the first time.

Harry had organised the usual gaming session about an hour later than usual with the simple message that got another friend whos free to play, and the idea of adding a fifth member to their usual roster suited them all pretty well. If they managed to find one more, they could actually play with friends and friends only rather than having a few odd swing ins for matches against other groups.

When Jo had swung past and heard him up later than usual on her way up to bed from one of her late night baking sprees, he’d handed her a spare pair of headphones to listen in on the group and found out that their new guy was a hunter like her. Grey had played attrociously that round, barely managing to heal anyone on the team as his fingers have shook and fumbled too much to fire straight or connect right on the others.

Jo had said it seemed ‘fitting’ that the other hunter was trading between McCree and Ashe every other game, as if trying on which style of player he wanted to be, before kissing him good night and retiring to bed with Nana. He knew he could wake her up when he got upstairs if he was still stressed, but that felt like a bit of a defeat to him of how far he’d come, of how far he’d pushed past being impacted by interacting with hunters who didn’t know who or what he was. Instead, he’d simply curled up around her, arms around the waist and face buried in that vanilla scented hair like he wasn’t still being impacted by a surprise hunter involvement.

It had taken another three weeks before Grey had found out which hunter it was, other than going by the screenname MrFizzles2000.

—

“Hey so is it okay if Garth stops by this afternoon?”

“Who?”

“Garth. He’s a hunter, but he’s chill. Like you already like him.” Jo had raised an eyebrow up at him from where she was currently in the middle of some intricate looking chocolate and dough bread…thing. “He got a bit banged up on a job nearby and asked if he could swing by for a patch up.”

“I don’t know any hunters called Garth.” He frowned at her, resting a hip against the countertop as he watched her working. The frown didn’t last too long, though his brows still creased, when she had swiped a bit of the chocolate mix onto a finger and offered it out to him with that entirely too innocent look on her face that let him know she knew exactly what she was doing.

Jo shook her head at his words, an eyeroll clearly being fought from showing, before she licked the chocolate off her own finger at his look. “Sure you do, MrFizzles? He’s cool, he’s chill, and he already knows all about you, hun, and he’s the absolute last hunter who would ever be predjudice against you for that.”

That had sounded too good to be true, and he had pressed further for more information just as soon as he’d finished tasting the chocolate from her lips.

“He got bit, werewolf hunt gone bad last Spring. I’ve been workin’ with him on ways to stay in the game and also stay on top of the situation.” Jo had smiled up at him so sweetly at that as she watched him carefully, that he had trouble keeping his look blank at the revellation that the hunter he played video games alongside was both a hunter and a monster too. That there had been no real reason for him to be so concerned and nervous, but at the same time, the whole idea of a monster as a hunter seemed far fetched even with progressives like Jo, Sam and Harry running about. Her smile had dropped a little as she saw his impassive look, and added quietly, “You hadn’t noticed I duck off near full moon each month? I’ve been keeping my hunts set so I can get to his home and help keep an eye on ‘im during the transformation times now it’s all gone back to mostly normal. He’s a sweet guy, he doesn’t deserve what’s happened but damn if he’s not workin’ hard not to let it stop him doin’ the job.”

“I hadn’t actually noticed-”

“Didn’t think so. But yeah, Harry, Garth and I have been workin’ on the hunter portal cause they’re both big geeks and I guess Garth and Harry realised you guys all play the same games so there you go.”

Grey rolled the thought over in his mind for a moment as Jo had spun in his arms to resume her complicated plaiting of her chocolate bread dough, the chocolate was rippled through it in veins and he was sure it was going to be amazing from what he’d already tasted; before tucking his chin over her shoulder. “Fine, he can stop by. Given I doubt he’s going to try to… gank me?”

There had been a laugh at that, and Grey had found himself almost pacing in the front lounge for the next hour awaiting the arrival of the man who was somehow an unknown hunter, a fellow monster and his mystery team-member all at once.

The first Grey had seen of him was a tall but bean-stalk like guy wrapping Jo up into a tight hug that managed to lift her feet up from the floor and spun her around when just looking at him such a feat should have snapped him in two. There was such a friendly look to him despite the extremely gross mess that was one half of his face, that somehow the clearly openhearted and friendly demeanour broke through even the worst of injuries. “Joey, hey, thanks so much for letting me stop by. Just got on the wrong end of a chupacabra.”

“Yeah I can bloody see that!” Jo had laughed as the man had let her back to her feet, and she’d raised a hand to look at the other’s mangled face - pieces of skin sliced and torn all over one side of his face, and Grey could see a bit of blood smeared on Jo’s hair from where it had touched the area during their hug. “Well not to worry, I’ll get you all patched up soon enough. You know Grey?”

“Grey! Hey man, so good to finally meet’cha!” The next thing Grey knew, he too had been pulled up into a tight hug without a moment to prepare for it, while the hunter wrapped his scrawny arms around his shoulders and rocked back and forth for a second. Garth was still talking, that exceptionally friendly tone bleeding through even Grey’s panic at the unexpected move, “I’ve heard so much about you from Joey and Harry. Been so lookin’ forward to meetin’ you finally. Sorry it couldn’t be better circumstances, man.”

He’d been released after a full thirty-Mississippi’s, and Grey had forced himself not to smoke away out of fear or jerk back more than a polite step as the hunter let him go and continued through to the kitchen at Jo’s gesturing. She had stopped and reached out for his hand, squeezing tightly as she gave him an understanding look as he let out a shaky breath. It took him another few minutes to work down the panic, splash his face with water and then head into the kitchen to see if there was any additional assistance needed once he had calmed down.

It hadn’t taken long for Grey to warm up to Garth once there was no unexpected if very nice hugs, especially as all three had sat down at the kitchen table together while Jo whined about “even though you’ve got higher regeneration than the rest of us, it doesn’t mean you won’t get an infection”, the hunter had simply looked across at him and shared an exasperated eyeroll. That the next thing out of the hunter’s mouth was to congratulate Grey himself on a beautiful house and kind girlfriend settled the matter for him, this was another hunter he would happily spend time with. Maybe with just a bit more distance, or at least warning next time.

—

The sixth and final member had actually come about through Dean.

The hunting brothers had been visiting as they had been doing on and off ever since the Gordon Situation had been handled. Grey had found it exceptionally uncomfortable to begin with, especially the heated, distrusting looks he would get constantly from the eldest brother whenever they did stop by, but Jo had almost burst into tears when the brothers had called and asked if they could drop by the first time about a month after they'd last been around that he couldn't very well say no. Not when she'd flung herself at him right after the agreement either. And so it had become a thing, where if the brothers were within two hours of the city they would pop by after their hunt to say hi. So long as Jo was home, of course.

It was on one of those nights that they were over and talking with Jo in the kitchen while Grey and his group were just kicking off their usual two or so hours of game play that the eldest Winchester had made the comment.

"Is that that weird anime shooter game? Overlord or something? We've got a friend who plays that and she's been looking for a new crew. I'll give her a call and see if she's free if you guys need another tonight." And that was how the sixth member joined them.

---

Supposedly Harry and Garth both already knew and liked the woman, and she was involved with the online hunting development with them and Jo. According to Dean she was a genius, according to Jo she was 'a lacklustre copy of Ash with a vagina' when Grey'd asked her for more that night, according to Harry she fell somewhere in between and Jo only disliked her due to being hit on the first time the women had met.

Charlie Bradbury had been a welcome edition though that first night, and the group had quickly agreed to add her into their little ragtag team.

She tended to roll D.va as her default which meshed well with everyone else, but sometimes she'd play Zarya instead when the mood stuck her which also worked well. Grey figured she was compensating for something always playing the tank role, but knew better than to question it.

That first night though, Grey had been surprised to hear the chirpy female voice through the headset as they finally all got online and in the one escort mission together. They were in charge of the escorting that time, fighting off the other party with a fair few hiccups.

Sometimes Charlie would charge forward further than she should, a level of cockiness in her taunting over the channel directed at the other team than rarely matched the level she was playing at. Sometimes, Spruce would end up accidentally completely forgetting it was a team game amidst the jeering and begin to seek out personal glory rather than working within the team. Sometimes, Grey would drop too far behind trying to regenerate his own health and by the time his character would catch back up, the party would be close to death. And sometimes Ed and Harry would have ended up pissing off one another over something or other, and refused to work together properly until screamed at by the rest of the party or one of them would conceed and apologise.

Overall though, it had been thoroughly amusing, they had finally worked out some of the kinks by their last round as it hit midnight and Jo had appeard in the doorway making a coughing noise in just her sleepwear and Grey had quickly called it a night on the group to a chorus of teasing from the rest. Overall, the computer whiz had fit in well with them all once they got a hold of their egos, and Grey knew that they’d be adding a final person to their regular line up.

***

The escort mission was going somewhat well so far, they’d made it through the second checkpoint and Grey had only have the one close encounter so far that Spruce had fixed up. They had almost reached and surpassed their opposition’s marker in the competition play they were undertaking, and as he directed his character back into the frey towards pushing, Grey could hear Charlie going off again.

“Fucking cocksucking assholes, we’re going to beat these sonofabitches back for sure.”

“Not very ladylike language there, Charls.” Ed’s voice crackled through the headset, clearly teasing as his Reinhardt pushed at the back of the payload alongside the firey redhead’s D.va and Grey’s own Mercy while Spruce’s Genji, Garth’s McCree and Harry’s Tracer zipped about them dealing out damage as they passed.

Grey could tell from the way the D.va suddenly stopped moving that the woman had taken offence. It was something that happened often enough each of the other player’s had noticed it and knew just how damaging one of her stubborn flares could be to their overall performance.

“Ed...” Spruce’s voice rumbled through the quiet, before being cut off by Garth’s friendly attempt at distraction, “Hey Charlie, we’re almost there - watch out for the Reaper comin’ up.”

The silence from their solo female player continued as did her character’s stubborn freezing on the spot as the payload’s speed slowed down having lost the third player’s additional momentum.

“Ed...” Spruce tried again, only to receive a loud feminine hiss and a whiney groan in response.

Grey found himself sighing quietly as he moved his Mercy about the screen to start healing a team member here and there, to boost the attack as Garth completed a flashbang to distract and disorientate their oppponents while they waited for Charlie to get her panties untwisted. While the girl was a very good gamer, and from what Grey had heard from Jo and Harry over the last month, he knew she was equally good at setting up secret portals for sharing the information hunters needed quickly and efficiently between themselves without needing to get too involved in understanding any of the information shred herself, she definitely had a bit of an ego and tended to snap quickly and unexpectedly if she thought she was being insulted.

The time was ticking down for them and they only had two minutes left to compelete the challenge, or at least get past their opponents marker. It was so damn close.

“Ed!” This time it was Harry’s voice, sharp and harsh as his Tracer skipped about from one side of the payload to the other, drawing fire and avoiding equally easily. “Just do it man, you know you were being a shit.”

There was a pained sounding groan as the group managed to move the payload further along and from where Grey was positioned, turning his camera he could see their D.va still just standing still left behind them in Charlie’s tantrum while the enemy players appeared to be trying to decide if they kill out the lone character or focussed on the payload objective.

The groan came again and they were slowly leaving the other behind when Grey realised what he had to do as two of the enemy players began wailing on the frozen and non-reactive D.va. He had seen Charlie let her character die and then remain at the spawn spot before, she had seen her be prepared to lose the match out of spite from one too many kitchen jokes from Spruce or a snarky comment from Ed or Harry. One time she did it after Garth had made some joke about her identifying a monster wrong and sending a hunter out with the wrong information if it ‘hadn’t been for his quick thinking’ to fix it. Grey had yet to aggrivate the woman enough before, but he was a lot more wary of upsetting someone close to the Winchester’s than the rest of them.

He had one strategy left that would allow her to survive, Ed to apologise and possibly give enough of a boost to the team they could pass their competition’s mark with or without the other’s help.

“Mother, fuck the lot of you.” Grey hissed into the headset as he set off his ultimate ability and jerked into the air above the rest of the play. He could see Charlie’s character start gaining health as he moved slightly back towards her to split the difference to the rest of the team, while their offensive characters began dealing enough damage to the surrounding enemies to push them back while Ed’s remaining pushing character continued with their objective. It took about ten seconds into the duration of his power for the hits to start coming from the opposite team, watching his own health deplete. “Harry, go for the Genji, Spruce target the Soldier, Garth the Pharah is almost dead one more shot should do it. And for fucks sake, Ed, apologise this instant!”

There was a quick movement of characters about the screen from what he could see as the three he’d pointed out began the assaults on the assigned enemies and as his powers ability came to an end of time and he dropped his character back down to help with the payload; he saw all three enemy units get taken out. His own was needing a lot of regeneration shortly, but that could wait. If they could just get Charlie back on board...

“Fine, fine.” Ed’s voice crackled, sounding tight and a little sour, before he added into the silent chat. “Look Charlie, I’m sorry. I know we’ve been ragging you a bit today so I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” The words sounded clipped and a little too formal, but next second the D.va was up against Ed’s Reinhardt and pushing along beside them as they crossed past the enemies original marker.

The end point was in sight as they entered the final phase of the match, but Grey could tell they wouldn’t make it without a bit more sacrifce, and sighed as he stayed in place providing the third party to push the load as much as possible even as he’d reached under 15hp left. His screen showed them getting to within 5m of the end point before he was back at the spawning point at the start and found himself sighing resigned not to see if they’d won outright or not as the time counted down.

Such was the curse of being the healer when there wasn’t enough time left for healing to matter. He never got to see if they won or not.

---

It hadn’t been intentional when he’d introduced his sister to the game. It was one of those weekend visits by her when Jo was out of town and not due back until early the next morning but it just happened to coincide with one of his game nights and Shada had looked so bored just ‘hanging out’ that Grey had told the guys he wasn’t available and grabbed the spare remote to play a few rounds showing her the game.

She hadn’t been like Jo had, taking time to pick up how the game worked, how the controller worked, how to actually target and shoot and achieve the tasks. But she’d been more excited than Jo had - tongue poking toughtlessly out one side of her lips as she focussed hard and got drawn into the game as much as he knew he did too. Jo had just looked bored and a little vindictive but not like she had been having fun; where as he could tell straight away his sister was enjoying herself getting to do something he enjoyed with him.

It had become a bit of a tradition between the two of them that they’d play a few different random games with others whenever Shada stopped by.

Grey had not been surprised when she’d gravitated to playing Sombra straight away, and had barely pressed her to try more than two others given how frequently she’d zip straight back to her main character choice each time. It wasn’t like he could judge - he rarely changed off of Mercy now unless they were doing a deathmatch, and even then he did not do well in that game type given how little time he spent playing attack characters - but it was amusing to see how excited his sister got every time he suggested they play a few rounds. He knew it was less to do with the game itself, but the reason for her excitement didn’t really matter so much as he got to get that happy grin out of her.

One time Jo had switched out for him playing alongside his sister when she’d been home for one of Shada’s spontaneous visits, and he’d almost bled from biting his lip so hard to stop the dopey grin from watching the two girls get along and laughing together.

---

Hey guys, cant make tonights session - anyone know an extra sixth to take my spot?

The message from Harry had started this nightmare. It had been about an hour before their usual time, and Grey had felt the slight deflate at the idea he would have to either play with some random or the group wouldn’t get together for the night when the doorbell had rung. Only one person rang the doorbell rather than knocking - a habit that seemingly Jo hadn’t trained the few friends and family of her’s that visited out of after they had installed the doorbell - and Grey suddenly realised maybe his night wouldn’t have to stall out.

My sisters just stopped in She plays Sombra That work for you guys?

He shot off the texts in quick succession into the Discord chat they used as he got up to answer the door. Shada looked as happy as ever, flinging herself at him for a tight hug before brushing past into the house without waiting for an invitation.

“God, why are boys so shit? I mean seriously, even the cute ones are horrible!” Shada whined, flouncing into the living room and throwing herself onto one of the arm chairs, draping her legs across one arm and her head and arms over the other. Her entrance barely registered with the other woman in the room, Jo was engrossed in her laptop in her lap and the thick leather journal on her own armrest. “I mean, I get this guy to buy me a Berkin and then he like... wants things for it? Ugh!”

“Well, that..that’s an expensive bag isn’t it?” Grey asked softly, following in and shutting the door behind him to keep the warm air of the rest of the house out and the cold airconditioned air in. Sitting on the couch, he held up his hands apologetically at the angry look he got from his sister instead. “But no you are completely right, men are gross and shit and horrible. Absolutely not worth your time.” That comment got a snort from the other chair, but flicking a look over it didn’t look like Jo had moved at all or was even listening even if she clearly was. “Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up-”

“What?” Shada’s voice perked up, the arm that had been thrown dramatically over her eyes moving so she could peer at him curiously from under it.

“I’ve got my Overwatch game with my friends tonight, but Harry wasn’t available and we’re looking for a sixth player...”

He had barely gotten to finish the words before there was the high pitched squeal of excitement and he was tackled due to her inhuman speed in the body she inhabited, arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. “Oh can I? Can I?! I haven’t gotten to play with anyone else before!” Shada was grinning from ear to ear as she squeezed his shoulder even more tightly, bouncing the couch cushions from where she was practically jumping with glee. “Can I play Sombra? Please, please, pretty please!”

Grey flicked a hand out to check his phone, seeing the several notifications agreeing to her joining - excluding Spruce’s begging if he could get his girlfriend to play instead - and nodded at her. He was lucky there was another hour before they were due to play for Shada to calm down somewhat before she was unleashed upon his friends.

They’d all played well, though it had mean Ed had been relegated to his tank character rather than playing his preferred Reaper for the escort and assault/escort missions which he had grumbled at until they’d all agreed to spend the last half of their time doing deathmatches instead. Shada had fit into the space left by Harry’s Tracer with her Sombra pretty easily, and the team had changed some of their usual strategies to accommodate the newer player without complaint.

Grey had cringed at several times throughout the night though, as Shada had hummed occasionally singing some parody song she’d heard and when he’d looked away from the screen he’d spotted Jo giggling from her own seat while Spruce and Ed both growled their dislike of “that goddamn Spears pop shit”; or as Charlie had asked thoughtfully if his sister was single at one point; or when Shada had accidentally said some offhand comment asking if Whispering the opposition would be counted as cheating or not that Grey had found himself breaking into a loud song to cover the actual question from being heard properly.

But regardless, the team had fit well - moving smoothly through objectives and challenges together, and while Charlie had had one of her little tantrums when Shada’d made a joke about her ‘butch’ choices of character and asking if it had matched the computer-geek in person or not, they had mostly worked well and won more than two-thirds of their games.

As the clock hit 1am, they had all finally called it quits, and even though Shada had annoyed some of them, all of his friends had bid her goodnight and also said she was welcome to be a swing player in the team in future should anyone ever not be available. Grey’s thought that Shada couldn’t smile any wider was proven wrong as they’d powered off the machine and he’d seen her out the front door after a drink and bit of a chat with Jo now that they’d finished their games and she had packed away her computer.

“I think I see why you keep human friends.” Shada had said softly as she stepped out into the muggy hot night time, looking up at him with a small, thoughtful smile. “They’re...so different to our brothers and sisters.”

“That they are.”

“I think I like your friends, brother.”

“I think they like you too.” Grey had replied, pulling her into a tight hug before she skipped down the stairs to head towards the empty school to disappear from in the dark of the oval, before he’d turned around to find Jo standing on the stairs smiling at him with an almost equally soft look as his sister had given him before they headed upstairs to fight Nana out of the centre of the bed.

---

Things continued like that for a while - sometimes the six of them would play, sometimes one of the others would be unavailable either due to work, hunting or personal reasons and Grey would call his sister in to join them. Sometimes they even decided to just do deathmatch free for alls so all seven of them would play at once. It had been a pretty well established routine, and Grey couldn’t help but realise as he’d get texts, calls or Discords from each of his other team members about anything and everything and not always to do with the game itself that this was what having a tight group of friends was all about.

Not only did they catch up in-game, but each of the others had stopped by the house regularly enough that Grey no longer jerked hearing the sounds of a knock or doorbell the way he had used to. It felt sort of surreal the times Garth would pop by that there was a second hunter Grey felt comfortable in his own skin around.

It was even more surreal when Charlie had flown over for Harry’s birthday held in the backyard as the summer had come to a close, and watching Jo try to be polite and friendly to the woman that commanded a bit too much attention from Jo’s almost-brother’s. The day had been going well, all of those that played with them over, as were the Winchester’s simply out of having been in the area and having buried the hatchet with Harry at least as he’d shown himself invaluable to the research side of things. Even Bobby and Jody had come up, though Grey had thought that was more out of taking the opportunity to see both brother’s and Jo in the one place, and possibly to talk over some files or books with Harry the day after too.

That day had been going so well, with the groups all blending well and even Shada had been invited along and had behaved herself for the most part of the afternoon while Jo and Garth had worked beside eachother flipping burgers, steaks and sausages for everyone laughing the whole time about something or other. Sam and Grey had both worked together to put together a few different salads, especially appreciated by Jody, Charlie and Shada, as they’d all sat down to eat stretched out along a long bench table brought out of the shed into the back garden.

Nana had ran about amongst the legs as everyone had stood and talked beforehand, and was now curled up at Bobby’s feet at the head of the table whining and barking happily every time the older hunter had dropped some food for her. The hunter himself was in a deep conversation with Spruce about the use of technology in ghost hunting and about how static noise in imaging could be used and focussed upon to find that which distorted the image.

Beside them was Harry and Ed, talking animatedly to one another, even though the bulkier of the pair - supposedly according to Harry the other had gotten really into the gym after the Ghostfacers had broken up and was now some survivalist prepper trainer or something - was splitting his time between talking to his friend and flirting with the darkhaired shadow sat next to him. Shada had made a crack about, “maybe I should be even more annoying” when she’d first been introduced in person to the other, and had given barely a cursory look at the other four members of their little gaming group she hadn’t met in passing before focussing almost all her attention on the ex-Ghostfacer so far that day.

Sam had actually sat down next to the shadow without any kind of reaction, as Jody had taken the other headplace and Garth across from Sam, from what Grey could tell in his space beside Jo across from Shada, he could tell they were talking about some job or other that Garth had finished off the night before. He was somewhat more focussed on giving his sister disapproving shakes of the head whenever he managed to catch her eye, but figured that there was no harm in it. Jo was on his other side, right in the centre of the table where she could get up and down easily to keep running about to fetch drinks or more food for everyone as the serving plates emptied.

Beside her was Dean and then Charlie between him and Bobby’s position, and Grey could tell there was something going on from the way Jo was spending more and more time getting up and down for things for everyone else than eating the food that he could tell was the same that had been put on her plate when they’d all first sat down. Looking down at the plate as Jo got up for the third time in five minutes, he found himself frowning as he realised she’d not even touched any of it, completely against normal for her.

Tilting his head and shifting slightly into her vacated seat, Grey had found himself glaring daggers for the first time ever at the elder of the hunting brother’s when he overheard him dubbing the redhead woman beside him “the sister he never had” a little too loudly from a few too many beers as Jo had rounded the table behind him. Out of his peripheral, he could see the way she bit her lip and leant between Dean and Charlie to set down another beer for the Winchester brother who gave her an uninterested “thanks Jo” before continuing to joke to the smiling, unaware woman beside him.

Clenching his fists as he watched Jo spin on her heel and hurry back up the back steps into the kitchen, he didn’t even notice the way Sam seemed to pause in his own conversation looking between the slammed kitchen door, his brother and then his own stony look before getting up and following the blonde into the house. He didn’t notice his sister suddenly looking at him curiously, head tilted as she tried to work something out before returning a half hearted comment to Ed beside her who was talking about some survivial training camp he was running next month, eyes focussed on him as he moved. Grey did notice however his own movement getting to his feet and shoving his seat back harshly before he stepped over to place a firm, little more pressure than his body should be able to produce, hand onto Dean’s shoulder.

“Hey, what’sup Grey?” Dean looked up at him, his attention finally jerked from the conversation about the Hobbit movie adaptations he’d been having with Charlie since they’d sat down for lunch, a slight frown at the extra pressure before it got deeper at the look Grey was sure was on his face. His next words were a bit sharper, voice dropped an octave into a more threatening tone even as those around didn’t quite understand what was going on. “What do you need?”

“We need to talk. Come on.” Grey gritted the words out, fingers digging into the other’s shirt and jerking him to his feet as the hunter stumbled up after him with a shake of the arm and a snarl. So much for a nice afternoon, but he refused to have this conversation in front of the crowd or to ruin Harry’s day with this issue. Jerking his head towards the side of the house, the shadow moved without looking behind him around the end of the table not looking to see the approving look he was getting from the wisened old hunter at the end, completely focussed upon keeping from snapping that Dean had to leave immediately and causing a scene.

He could hear Dean behind him, and taking five faster steps before he spun to confront the other, he had himself mostly under control until he saw the way Dean’s hand was twitching towards his back. “You aren’t going to need that knife, Dean. We just need to have a chat without causing a scene.” Grey snarled the words out, arms crossing across his chest as he stared down the taller man.

“Oh you mean like the scene you started out there?” Dean’s voice was sarcastic as he made no move to return his hands to his side, but also made no move to remove the knife itself as he seemed to be seizing Grey up in return.

“Trust me, if I wanted to cause a scene out there, I would have.” He snapped back in return, grinding one heel into the gravel from the utility space they were stood in. It was as good a place as any. Grey would have taken the hunter inside for the conversation, but Jo was in there and he trusted that Sam would be able to handle that half of the issue. His eyes flashed as he saw the hunter shift as if about to head back to the group and ignore the shadow; growling out the words he had heard from the other, dripping the words with acidic intent. “The sister you never had...”

Dean paused at that, eyes widening a little at hearing the words he’d just let out without a thought, before looking back at Grey. Grey could tell his mind was whirling over what that meant or what the point that the shadow was trying to make to him; and from the blank, unknowing look that covered the hunter’s face he figured the other had not worked out the significance yet.

“You told Charlie she was the sister you never had.”

“So?”

“You told Charlie that she was the sister you never had in front of Jo, you complete asshole.” Grey almost bit his tongue as he snarled the words out, hands clenched into tight fists where he had them against his ribcage as he stared down the hunter. Daring him to deny what he’d said, or deny that it would have meant anything.

Dean appeared to finally get it, eyes widening such that the bright green was fully visible as he appeared to look between the shadow and then the edge of the house back to the yard trying to make up his mind. “Oh shit, fuck, I didn’t..”

“Oh but you did. You fucking well did, Dean. And I won’t stand for you being rude and insensitive to Jo like that.”

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t saying anything about Jo-”

“You fucking know what you said, and how Jo, of all people, would take that comment.” Grey growled back at the hunter’s stammered and awkward denouncing, ripping his arms apart and sticking his fists into his pockets to refrain from throwing the hunter up against the wall and showing him just how much he wouldn’t approve of Dean hurting his Jo yet again. “I get that you might not have thought before you said it, but you’ve barely said six words to Jo all afternoon. You’ve barely even looked at her, and I know you are still not comfortable with me and her, but I won’t allow you to take that out on her any more.”

“That’s not true!” Dean spluttered in response, his hand withdrawing from going for his back but each hand clenched into corresponding fists as he glared across at Grey in return. “I have not been ignoring her-”

“Don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen it all day. I know she’s been smiling and happy, and her and Garth get along like a house on fire and Jody has been taking up a lot of her time; but you, Dean Winchester, have not even looked at her once. You didn’t even hug her hello.”

The brash bluff in the other appeared to deflate at that as the taller man seemed to realise there was some truth to what Grey was accusing him of, fists relaxing and running a hand across his hair as he looked back towards the corner of the building. “I..”

“Didn’t mean to, I’m aware. I’m sure even Jo is aware, but you have been disrespecting her all day and I will not stand for it.” Grey moved closer as he spoke until he was right up in the other’s space, glaring harshly up at him and trying to keep himself from getting even angrier as he thought it over. It was the first time he’d reacted like this around the other, and there was a small flare of pleasure when the hunter stumbled a step back and appeared to shrink a little under his stare. That was enough for now, enough of a recognition of understanding and conceeding to his point. “Now, you and I are going to go back to the table and continue like nothing happened here. And when your brother and Jo come outside again, you are going to apologise to her. Properly apologise. And I’ll let you know if I think it is acceptable, okay?”

He didn’t wait for the hunter to respond, just pushed past the other unnecessarially to go back to his seat and ask Garth about the hunt he and Sam had been talking about as if nothing had happened. Grey had noticed the curious looks from the three Ghostfacers, as well as the slight frown from Charlie when Dean rounded the corner but moved to stand on the small landing outside the back kitchen door rather than rejoining them at the table. If he hadn’t known better, Grey would have thought he was getting an approving look from the older hunters on either end of the table, but that was sure to just be wishful thinking on his end.

When Sam and Jo had emerged with two bowls of potato and pasta salad from inside, her face looking a little pinker than usual as if she’d been scrubbing at her eyes and cheeks, Dean laywaid them and piled both bowls on his brother before grabbing Jo’s arm and turning her back around to go back inside.

Sam slid into his spot beside Shada as he plopped both bowls down onto the table and wrapped a friendly arm around the shadow-girl’s shoulder as he leaned towards Grey across from her. “Hey, did you get your side sorted?”

“Yeah, all taken care of. Yours?”

“Should be okay when they get back out.” Sam’s tone was soft and gentle, and Grey definitely knew that he had a friend in the giant as they shared a knowing smile before starting their own meals again.

Grey wouldn’t be sure would be all okay until Jo returned and actually ate something, but it felt nice to have yet another friend to support him in the form of the youngest Winchester.

---

Three months later, something strange was happening.

They had all logged on as usual, and the chatter over the headsets was much as usual when they were missing Spruce for a round. That is to say, Shada was trying to flirt with Ed, Ed and Harry were babbling about their trip to Comic Con later in the year, and Charlie was trying to organise to meet up with them if their work schedules all happened to match up. The only unusual thing was that Garth had not spoken one word, nor had he done his typical greeting to the group as a whole even once - Grey was kind of missing the friendly twang when the hunter would sign of with a “Hey guys, ready to get these suckers Garthed”. Instead, he’d signed in and was silent.

“Hey so we’re doing assault/escort right?” Grey asked quietly at a lull in the conversation, fingers twitching on his controller as he considered whether to have a drink and wait it out or press the issue as he heard his sister’s giggle through both the headset and from her spot on the couch beside him. Looking out the side of his eye, he could see her twisting a section of her hair - one of those bright purple strands she’d started getting done - around a finger than made him groan. “Please, please guys can we get on with playing. We all good?”

There was a ding and in the corner of the screen, he saw Garth’s first message to the group pop up from the Discord channel - Ready when you are - which seemed so un-Garth.

What seemed even less Garth was as the group finally agreed and started the screen to select their roles that MrFizzles2000 selected Solider 76 immediately without any discussion before any of the other’s could pick their own characters.

“Garth, what the fuck man?” Ed’s voice sounded tinny in the headphones, but definitely reflected what everyone else must have been thinking at that choice. Not once had the hunter picked anyone but McCree or Ashe, not even once. “Since when you play Solider?”

Just shut up and lets play.

That was somehow even less Garth than the rest of it, and the group as a whole continued to fire questions out as they picked their characters. At least he’d chosen another offense heavy damage character so Harry could take the lead-tank role alongside Charlie rather than Ed for the first round as the coin flip had determined. Ed had shouted happily at that, selecting Reaper which would match up well alongside Harry’s Winston, Charlie’s Zarya, Shada’s Sombra and Garth’s inexplicable Soldier 76. Grey was, as always unless he was trying out Moira, Mercy and was actually secretly pleased for another healing person on the team for once.

The first round had somehow been a cake walk for them. Garth was insanely good at the new choice of character, and Grey had found himself suddenly getting a heal boost without having to run out of combat without even asking when Garth’s character would swing past. Charlie and Harry had worked in unison well to take the damage for the rest as they rushed their way to the payload, and even Shada’s almost constant singling couldn’t stop the jovial feeling that was spreading between the group as they wiped the floor with their opponents.

“Jesus, Garth, you need to play that one more often!” Harry cried out happily as they completed the mission quicker than they had before; and there was a sharp whistle of appreciation through the call as they all watched the five-head shot kills Play of The Game from the hunter that had decimated their opponents at just the right time. “Good going man!”

Thanks guys

It was such a small message and did ring true of the hunter’s modesty, so didn’t seem too out of place. But Grey couldn’t shake the feeling something was going on while he drank a sip of his water and chewed on a mouthful of M&Ms while they waited for the next round to load.

As they’d moved across Junkertown for the next assault, and Grey spotted the waning moon in the animated sky, he suddenly realised what it was. Letting out a laugh through the chat out of no where and getting a strange look from Shada as she had her character zipping about, humming that infuriating Britney Spears song under her breath while taking out three enemies at once with one of her EMP blasts, Grey shook his head at her.

He waited for just the right moment to do it, when he knew he’d get an automatic response from the hunter as his character was getting pinned by three enemies to avoid him getting to resurrect Charlie’s D.va as the fought to push back the opposing team from pushing their payload any further. “Ah shit, I need help up here.”

“On my way, hun.” The voice came over the call immediately before the Soldier appeared and drew the fire from the opponents for Grey to extract himself back to their teammate.

“Who the fuck is that?!” Ed and Harry both shouted in unison as they double teamed taking out the three tanks their opposition had chosen to use for the payload push, while Grey used resurrect on the D.va. “Who was that?”

“I thought you guys always wanted me to play.” The voice came again, honeyed sweet and Grey could imagine the smirk on her face as clear as day from where she was. He had only just remembered it was a full moon that night, and Jo always went to help Garth during those times, keeping him under lock, key and a watchfulish eye. It was the first one, full moon that was, that they’d all been around enough to play for; and clearly Garth hadn’t wanted them to cancel with two players out.

The choice in character made so much sense, and as he saw his health boosting again as Jo directed her character past him, Grey found himself smiling fondly as he realised just how lucky he was to have the life he had now as he moved into place to support his friends again.

---

[callsign-pyro]

I Wannabe Me

May 26th, 2020

 Dear Journal Book Thingy,

Hello, my name is Park Seonghwa, I am 21 years old, and this is not a diary. I am the oldest member of ATEEZ, this means I have to take care of my members well and keep them from doing a plethora of increasingly idiotic things. Unfortunately, this means I don’t have much time to myself these days with packed schedules and the kids doing their things. I must confess that as much as I love my members, I wish I didn’t have to hide things from them, from food to my identity. I Park Seonghwa, am genderfluid, it’s really hard having to always be a boy even when I want to be a girl, I can’t have girly clothes for fear of rousing the boys’ suspicions, I have to hide everything that could be perceived as feminine very well. Today was an overall good day save for the fact that I had to look like a boy, but I want to stay in the position I am in now so I will deal with it.

 Seonghwa put down his pen and closed the book. Sighing he began to look for a place to hide his journal so nobody read it, in the end he put it in his underwear drawer where he hoped no one would look. Hongjoong should be home soon and then they could all eat dinner together.

 “I should start cooking dinner.” Seonghwa said to himself. As he walked to the kitchen, he stopped off at Yeosang and Wooyoung’s room he heard all of the boys talking about the filming we were doing for a reality show on Mnet (disgusting platform) called Salary Lupin they were chattering about the filming we would be doing tomorrow. The episode is supposed to be about a workshop that ends in murder. The thing is I am very nervous because I am going to be dropping a huge hint about my gender identity on them as the producer asked me to take a picture dressed as a girl who is supposed to be my twin sister in the show.

 Seonghwa opened the door to the room and stuck his head in “Guys please come and help me cook dinner now” he said. They others all groaned but got up and followed him down to the kitchen. “Hyung why can’t we just order food from somewhere?” San asked. “Because it is not healthy to eat takeout every day Sannie” was the reply. The boys started making dinner and just before they finished an exhausted looking Hongjoong came home.  

 “Welcome home Hongjoongie. How was your day?” Seonghwa asked.

“It was ok. I didn’t get everything I wanted to get done, done. You?”

“About the same”

I had been worrying about my inability to switch for a while now because it really impacts me mentally and physically, what makes it worse is that the members call me eomma a lot and it makes me want to be female, but I can’t be. However on our off days when I can go elsewhere, I sometimes get to be female.  Anyways, back to the present day. All of the members have finished eating and after some cajoling finished cleaning up and have now gone off to do their own things. I however am currently in Hongjoong and my bedroom experiencing some dysphoria, I feel that I cannot go on like this and will have to go out and switch. Lucky for me I have a friend from school that knows and will help me keep my secret and change genders from time to time. I will go the day after tomorrow as it is an off day.

 The Next Day While Filming

 After all the rooms were searched to find the murderer, everybody all met in a room to brief each other on what had been found, who each person thought was the murderer and why. When it got to what had been found in Seonghwa’s room Yeosang came up with a clever theory that Seonghwa was both male and female and his female side had killed the PD, while this was partially true in reality in the show it wasn’t true at all because Seonghwa had a twin sister and all, however the fact that Yeosang thought this made Seonghwa worried that his secret would be discovered. After he had cleared up the situation on the show, he thought he did a good job of acting nonchalant about the whole switching genders thing, did the rest of the members think so; no, they thought he was being suspicious. When filming finished Seonghwa not at all suspiciously (note the sarcasm) hopped to the car and waited. After arriving home and having dinner Seonghwa quickly packed an overnight bag making the boys even more suspicious, so they quickly convened and decided to tail him if he didn’t tell them where he was going.

 “Where are you going Hyung?” Wooyoung asked

“Out. Why?”

“No reason”

With that Seonghwa was out the door. The other members were quickly on his tail as he turned a corner looked left and right then hopped on a motorcycle with another person driving.

All of the other members who were waiting in a car quickly stepped on the gas and followed him and the mystery person at a respectable distance. The pair stopped at an apartment building, got off the bike and went into the building. The rest of Ateez followed in suit after getting to the door of the apartment Seonghwa and his friend were in they decided to go as not to raise suspicion and come back in about an hour.

 In The Apartment

 “Hwa are you okay you don’t look so good.”

“Yea I’m okay Aerie. Can u help me switch things up a little?”

 “Absolutely. I’ve still got some of your old clothes here wanna go pick something out while I set up for hair and makeup so we can go out and go to a café or go clubbing or whatever.”

 When Seonghwa had finished picking out their clothes they came back and saw that Aerie was dressed and ready to do their hair and makeup.

 “Where should we go tonight?”

“I’m thinking the club cause I just wanna let loose.”

“Idol life not treating you well?”

“It’s amazing to follow my passion, but I hate not being able to just be myself.”

“Let’s not talk about work anymore and just have fun tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 They started doing their hair and makeup and an hour flew by in no time and they were ready to party. However, things weren’t going to go as planned tonight. As Aerie reached for the door the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole she saw the other 7 members of Ateez at the door.

 “Um. Hwa your friends are at the door. What should I do?”

“If we ignore them for a while maybe they’ll go away”

 Then Hongjoong started knocking.

 “Go hide somewhere, I’ll deal with them.”

Seonghwa quickly ran off to hide somewhere in the apartment. When Seonghwa was out of sight Aerie opened the door.

 “Hi, how can I help you?”

“Where’s Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asked looking both worried and upset

“Who?”

“Look, we saw him come in here with you. Where are you hiding our hyung?” Wooyoung scowled

“Come in.” Aerie sighed

 She quickly went off to go inform Seonghwa of what happened.

 “They’re insistent Hwa. What should we do? We’ll have to go out and face them at some point they’re not leaving.”

“Better sooner than later I guess. But I don’t wanna go.”

“I know, but I’m pretty sure they think we’re dating or something.”

“Yikes. I’d never date you.”

“Likewise”

 The two quickly made up their minds and then began contemplating if Seonghwa should go out as is or change back into the Seonghwa the members knew. They decided against this as it was a good opportunity to come out and Aerie could beat them up if necessary.

 In the Living Room

 “What is taking them so long?” San asked

“How should we know; they are probably trying to figure out how to tell us that they are dating.” Yeosang said

 Then the door to the bedroom opened and out came two women, one of them looked a lot like their Seonghwa hyung.

 “Seonghwa hyungie, is that you?” Jongho asked hesitantly

“Yes Jong-ah it’s me but I’m not Seonghwa hyung.”

“What are you then?” Wooyoung interjected

“Unnie stop stalling and get on with it.”

“Unnie? What is going on here?” Yunho asked

“Guys I’m genderfluid and right now I am female so you can call me noona or unnie, whatever suits your tastes.”

“Is this why you were acting super weird when I brought up the gender theory while filming?” Yeosang questioned

“Mayyybbbeee it is”

“Okay now that we are cool, anybody got questions.” Aerie said

“Um. Just a couple.”

 So the next half hour was spent explaining genderfluidity to the boys.

 “Noona?” San said

“Yes?” both Seonghwa and Aerie said

“If the gender theory was true, do you also like me?”

“Not like that I don’t”

“Ok”

Mingi on the other hand was getting acquainted with Aerie, asking her things like how she knew Seonghwa and why Seonghwa hadn’t told anybody about their gender identity. Hongjoong was listening to this conversation and occasionally asking questions or adding his own bits of wisdom. Suddenly Wooyoung asked the question he had been waiting to ask all night.

 “Are you guys dating?”

Simultaneously the answer was “Ewwww, no” and “Dear god no”

“Oh.” Wooyoung said pouting

Mingi who was getting tired no was leaning on Aerie and starting to fall asleep on her.

“Cute baby.” Aerie nodded in reference to Mingi

“I think you should all go back to the dorm cause I don’t have enough space here to house all of you comfortably.”

“Would you like to come over Noona?” Hongjoong asked

“I’d love to. But Hongjoong?”

“Yes?”

“I’m younger than you so don’t call me noona.”

“How old are you?”

“23 same age as you but my birthday is in December.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

All eight members of Ateez and one Aerie arrived back at the dorm and went inside to get ready for bed as all of them were tuckered out from all of the explaining and the information that had been revealed tonight.

 “Noona please sleep with me” Mingi whined to Aerie

“Alright, alright but no funny business.” Aerie sighed agreeing

 After doing their nightly routines everybody climbed into bed and went to sleep. At last Seonghwa no longer had to hide their identity from their members and could go around being whatever they wanted to be at that particular time.

[catsandtruecrime]

Your MLM is a pyramid scheme, not a “small business,” hun.

Hey, girlie! I saw your profile and wanted to reach out to you! I was wondering if you’d be interested in learning a little bit about a terrible business opportunity that’s more than likely not going to make you THOUSANDS every month working from home like you were told it would! It’s called Beachbody/Monat/Color Street/Scentsy/HerbalLife/ItWorks/LuLaRoe/Mary Kay/doTERRA/(insert any one of thousands of MLMs here) and you’re making a huge mistake.

Along with true crime and chameleons, one of my latest 2020 obsessions has been MLM companies, how they operate, and how negatively they impact most people who become involved with them. At the beginning of the COVID pandemic, I found myself with loads of extra time like many other people did. Rather than finding a new hobby or taking up exercising, though, I found myself doing deep dives into the world and culture of MLMs that I’ve seen so many people I know become entangled in.

Throughout this post, I’ll reference a couple of figures, which you can find in a Google Doc here.

Part of the reason I became so interested in learning more about MLMs is because I very narrowly avoided being caught in one. My freshman or sophomore year of college, I went to a Pampered Chef party with my mom and her coworkers, and the Pampered Chef rep almost had me convinced that “investing” roughly $500 (that I didn’t have) to sell Pampered Chef products would be an awesome opportunity that would have me earning that $500 back, plus more, in no time.

Now don’t get me wrong, Pampered Chef does have some pretty handy kitchen gadgets that I love! I grew up with a kitchen stocked full of Pampered Chef products that were so unique and impossible to find anywhere else. Never will I allege that all MLMs have terrible products that have no value. While this is true for many MLMs, there are others like Pampered Chef and Tupperware that have been around forever, in part because they do truly have some great products that the business can stand on.

But let me break this down. At the time I was being recruited, I was a full time college student. I had maybe $1000 in my bank account (those were the days) and the only reason I had that much was because of the $1500 or so that was given to me and paid for with my student loans in order to buy books, supplies, and groceries for the entire semester. I didn’t have a job or income, and yet I was being encouraged to take half of that money and purchase a Pampered Chef starter kit in order to start selling their products as a side hustle.

“You’ll make that back in no time! You’ll be able to pay for school with all the money you’ll make,” I was told.

Sounds great on the surface, but think about that for a second. I was a full time college student. Living in a dorm. All of my friends also lived in the dorms on campus. We lived off of dining hall pizza and ramen. Who was I going to be selling kitchen gadgets to??

In reality, the consultant just wanted me as part of her downline, or the people who work under you in an MLM. As part of her downline, she would get a percentage of all of the sales I made, as well as a portion of the $500 starter kit she was encouraging me to buy. She likely knew that as a college student, there was no way I was going to make any substantial amount of money selling Pampered Chef products, even with a mom who loves them.

This gets into just one of the numerous problems with companies who operate with an MLM format, and that’s the predatory nature of many MLM companies and their sellers.

At this point, you can’t really say that you actively use social media if you haven’t received a message on Instagram or Facebook from someone you haven’t talked to in years, saying something like “Hey, hun! I saw your post and had to reach out! I don’t know if my new business will be a fit for you or not, but would you be open to learning how to make money in a home business and earn a little extra income? I’d love to talk to you some more about this awesome opportunity!”

Some of you may be going into your Instagram messages now, thinking, “Wait a second, didn’t I get that exact message? How did she know that?” In reality, this is just a string of buzzwords that MLM “huns” like to use when cold messaging potential recruits.

In countless team calls that I’ve watched on Youtube from various MLMs, sellers are encouraged to simply copy and paste a generic pitch and send it to anyone and everyone that they can find. Why take the time to personalize a message when you might not get a reply anyway? Just use the same one for everyone!

At first glance, it can be intriguing and you may want to hear more about what the person has to say. By keeping it vague, the recipient may think, “Hmm, earning a little more money from home would be awesome…and since she was looking at my profile, she must think I’d be good at it!”

99% of the time, though, you’re not the only one they’re messaging. That’s why MLM sellers typically use phrases like, “Hey, girl!” “Hi, girlie!” or the now infamous, “Hey, hun!” Using the same message over and over makes it considerably easier to message the greatest number of people in the least amount of time.

It’s also important to note that a majority of the time, the seller isn’t just trying to get you to buy the products they’re selling. They’re also trying to get you to sell the products, too, to become part of their downline. In my experience, people involved in MLMs tend to promote the company’s products on their general page and public timeline, but any direct communication tends to center around the idea that “you should be selling this stuff too.”  

Let’s think about that for a second, because this is one HUGE way that MLM companies differ from any normal company. Consider any legitimate small business, like a local bakery for example.

Of course the person who owns the bakery is going to promote their business to their friends and family, and they’ll encourage people in the community to think of them the next time they need a birthday cake, custom cupcakes, personalized cookies, or any other delicious sweet treat. If they know that your grandma’s 70th birthday is coming up, they might even message you something like, “Hey there! Hope you’re doing well! I just wanted to reach out since I know that your grandma’s birthday is coming up soon! I just started a bakery in town, and birthday cakes are one of my specialties. Feel free to reach out if you need any baked goods for the party and I’d be happy to discuss my rates with you! Have a great day!”

What the bakery owner IS NOT going to do, is reach out and say, “Hey, girl! I just started a bakery in town and it’s going so well for me! You should look into starting your own bakery, too! Let me know if you’re interested in learning more about starting your own bakery, it’s such a great business opportunity!”

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know a ton about economics; I wasn’t a business student and I had to take Economics 101 twice in college. Even I know, though, that that’s not how a market works. When you’re selling a product, you don’t want MORE PEOPLE in the same area selling the same product. That creates competition for you and saturates the market with too many sellers.

To put it simply, if you have 100 potential customers and you’re the only one selling a product, all 100 of those customers are going to come to you to purchase said product. If you recruit 4 other people to ALSO sell that product, though, your 100 potential customers dwindles down to 75…50….20…maybe even less, as your 100 potential customers inevitably start buying from the other sellers for whatever reason. By recruiting additional sellers, you’re creating your own competition in any normal business model as you’re saturating the market with one type of product that everyone is suddenly selling.

In an MLM business, though, you’re not creating competition; you’re creating your downline. Each MLM varies in compensation percentages, and complex compensation plans vary greatly from MLM to MLM, but one thing they all have in common is that recruitment is the goal; when you recruit someone to sell the products, they work underneath you in your downline.

Usually, recruiting someone involves selling them a “starter kit” which you make commission on, and you also get a percentage of that consultant’s sales. It’s impossible not to see the pyramid model that’s created here.

Sure, you’re all selling the products, but of course you’re also going to want to recruit new people to work for the company since that means you’d be getting a portion of their sales as well. Through recruiting more sellers, you get to reap the benefits of their sales, meaning that you’re making money on sales that you’re not making; you’re doing less work, and making more money the more people you recruit, and then those people recruit more people, and so on and so forth.

I’m going to be transparent here and say that math is NOT my strong suit. Anyone who knows me knows this, and it’s only getting worse the older I get. As I think about this, my brain says that if you recruit two people, who each recruit two people, who each recruit two people, you suddenly have…uh…a lot of people working in your downline.

For the more visual people like myself, we can reference Figure 1 in the attached files. Notice the shape? Even if there are 50 people above you, you’re now making a percentage of the sales of 14 other people in your downline. As they continue to recruit people, the pyramid grows.

This is how we end up with income disclosure statements like those that we see for just about every MLM (that releases them, anyway). As the money from any sale flows up the pyramid, the people at the bottom make the least while the people at the top make the most.

“But that’s how it works for any business!” most huns will protest. While this may be true, it’s not due to the business model, and it’s not at the cost of those at the bottom. Of course company presidents and CEOs make more money than those at the bottom of the company totem pole, but that’s because they have more responsibilities and have contributed greatly to the growth of said business many cases.

Take Maui Jim Sunglasses, where I work, for example. I work in customer service, which is one of the lower positions at the company. My daily job is assisting customers with getting their sunglasses repaired, answering shopping questions, and generally providing support for our customers, whatever that may mean that day.

Our CEO, meanwhile, does infinitely more to keep the company afloat. From endless negotiation meetings with our manufacturers, other sunglass company heads, and managers of our international offices across the world, to…I honestly don’t even know what else, our CEO plays a major role in ensuring that we’re able to stay competitive in the sunglass market while preparing the entire company for the future given current trends and sales data. Of course he has other people supporting him and assisting with this, but he has knowledge and experience I can only dream of having. Of course he makes WAY more than I do, and he deserves it for running the third largest sunglass company in the world!

This is not the case with MLMs. The people at the bottom are the ones doing the hard work. They’re the ones with their feet on the ground, selling (usually overpriced, usually not super great) products in an increasingly oversaturated market. They’re the ones doing the work, while the people in their upline are the ones making more and more money the more work their downlines do.

This is illustrated through the fact that in most MLMs, roughly 90% of consultants (usually more) are in the bottom tier of the company, making the least money, while less than 1% are in the top tier, making the six or seven figure salaries MLM huns promise you’ll be making in no time.

While most people rarely make any considerable, much less livable, wage in an MLM, what’s even worse is that many people actually end up losing more money than they make when they join an MLM. This is largely due to the fact that MLM consultants are also a huge portion of the MLM’s customers. Kiki Chanel, who makes videos exposing MLM companies on Youtube, describes this as the “pay to play” model most MLMs use.

One of the MLMs most infamously guilty of this is LuLaRoe, which is is an MLM based around the sale of clothing. Consultants in LuLaRoe and many other MLMs are required to keep an inventory of items to sell, which they have to purchase themselves.

As outlined in LuLaRoe’s FAQ on their site, to become a seller, you start with an inventory of 65 articles of clothing for $499. Of course, there’s a catch, though. When you purchase said inventory, you don’t get to pick the pieces from a catalog, and you never do. You purchase a package where you choose a number of each style, size, and quantity, with style here referring to the article of clothing, such as t-shirts, dresses, leggings, etc.

As a LuLaRoe consultant, you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit with regards to inventory. On Kate’s Closet, a blog by a LuLaRoe consultant, Kate answers questions I’m sure you’re all wondering about this model of business!

“What if I end up with something that I can’t sell?”

Well, Kate says, if you can’t sell something, that doesn’t mean that it’s not cute! It just means that you haven’t found the right customer for it, yet. Kate says that this is the beauty of LuLaRoe; if you were able to pick your own prints from a catalog, you’d only order what YOU like! Even if you think something is ugly, someone else will love it!

Kate, I’d like to refer you to figure 2. I’ve already admitted that I’m no economist or mathematician. I’m also not a fashionista, but…yikes. And I think most people I know would have the same reaction to these leggings, which are the “hot item” from LuLaRoe.

Beyond being stuck with some less than attractive items that I’m sure are hard to sell in most circles, consultants are also required to purchase at least 33 products each month and are required to sell at least 1 each month to stay active. Add to this that most LuLaRoe pieces have an MSRP of $18-$65, it’s easy to see how many consultants find themselves quickly drowning in pieces that they’re not able to sell.

As evidenced in LuLaRoe’s income disclosure statement (available here), the majority of LuLaRoe consultants (72.5%) either made less than $5,000 profit, or lost money in the business in 2019. Included in that, are the 19.4% of consultants who made $0 profit, or lost up to $10,000 or more. This also doesn’t take non-product expenses into account, which would be the costs for supplies like hangers, storage bins, mannequins, other display equipment, shipping, advertising, and travel expenses.

Almost every MLM (I’m not saying EVERY MLM because there are literally hundreds of them out there) operates on a similar model. You have to either sell and/or buy X amount of product each month in order to stay “active” as a seller.

As a result, you end up seeing many consultants purchasing their OWN inventory, or purchasing the inventory of other sellers. Facebook groups exist for most MLMs where all of the members are sellers, and they’ll essentially trade sales; in LuLaRoe for example, this might look like “I’ll buy a pair of your leggings if you buy a pair of mine.”

Suddenly, you end up with money exchanged primarily within the company; your sellers on the bottom are selling each other their inventory, and their money earned through the company flows back up through each upline, instead of coming in from outside sources.

This turns the company into a closed market, where the people on the bottom are basically just giving their money to the people above them in order to stay part of the company, and this is where MLMs start to look even more like pyramid schemes.

Traditionally, pyramid schemes involved no products, and only involved the exchange of money. For example, “You give me a dollar to join my club, and then you find two people to give you a dollar each to join. Congratulations! You just made a dollar.” Of course it’s much more complex than that in practice and involves MUCH more money, but it’s not difficult to see the parallels here.

With pyramid schemes outlawed, enter the MLM business model, squeezing right through the loophole formed by the fact that they do technically sell products that anyone can buy, even if it is mostly their own employees in many cases.

Aside from the inherent issues with this business model, many MLMs also have products that aren’t that great, from products that are just low quality, to products that border on being straight up harmful.

LuLaRoe, for example, has come under fire for the low quality of their items, and a quick “LuLaRoe quality” Google search will direct you to countless articles and complaints, even from consultants, of LuLaRoe clothing being extremely thin and poorly made, smelling of mildew and mold, or arriving with holes.

Scentsy is another MLM with products that I personally really liked…until I found out that you can get almost identical wax warmers and melts for half the price and the same quality at Walmart.

Other MLMs like HerbalLife, Young Living, Medifast and Plexus have received backlash for the negative effects users have seen from their supplements, shakes, teas, and other ingestible things. Many of these companies use weight loss, digestive health, and cleanses as their gimmick, and customers have reported sickness and diarrhea as a result of using products from these “health and wellness” MLMs.

“That’s how you know it’s working!” say the huns. Again, I’m not an economist, I’m not a mathematician, I’m not a fashion expert, and I’m not a doctor, but when you use adjectives like “brownie batter” (and not the good kind…) and “white pants approved” to describe the products you’re selling, something tells me they’re probably not the best for your body.

Monat is another MLM that’s been making its rounds on my feeds recently. I know a few people who are Monat distributors, so I see all kinds of claims that Monat products will repair your split ends, make your hair grow 37 feet in just two weeks, and make it as strong and shiny as a stallion’s mane.

What they don’t tell you, is that Monat is on thin ice right now with the Attorney General, as hundreds of customers have reported painful burns, balding, hair loss, and devastating damage after using Monat’s products.

“That’s your hair detoxing!” Monat huns assure their customers. Sadly, though, as you may be guessing, that’s not at all true. Scalp burns and extreme hair loss are not part of a “hair detox.”

While Monat has refuted claims of damage and injury after usage of their products, hundreds of people have experienced the negative effects of using Monat products, and the company has been sued numerous times by countless people for the damage the products have caused.

Part of what makes me so passionately against MLMs like Monat, Beachbody, and the countless “health and wellness” MLMs is that these in particular have a unique opportunity to target women who are seeking to feel “better.”

Beachbody coaches have been notorious for targeting women who have just had a baby, who have illnesses, or who don’t fit the image of the “ideal Instagram” body type. Coaches message these women, promising that they have the perfect way for them to shed a few extra pounds so that they can be the best (read, skinniest) versions of themselves!

The toxic culture and beauty ideals of our society are a whole other issue entirely, but many MLMs use that to their advantage, promising the perfect shakes, workouts, hair and skin care, makeup, and supplements to make you perfect.

Not only do most MLMs target vulnerable women to sell products to, but vulnerable women are especially easy to rope into joining these get rich quick MLM schemes. Thinking about the people I know who have joined MLMs, most have one thing in common; they joined when they were struggling either financially or emotionally, or they joined when they were otherwise at a low or challenging point in their lives.

If you’re in college, recently divorced, recently laid off, in debt, a stay at home mom, a military wife, or independent at a young age, you’re a great target for MLM recruiters.

Thinking about most MLMs, consultants tend to overwhelmingly be women, and when I picture an MLM seller in my head, I think of one of my peers who had just dropped out of college and wasn’t sure where she wanted to go next in life. I think of my old coworker who was 24 with two kids that she would do anything for. I think of my old classmate who’s now married and trying to put herself through school. I think of the friend of a friend who recently got diagnosed with a debilitating illness and is looking for a way to supplement her income to pay her inevitably growing healthcare bills.

All of these young women got involved with MLMs as a way to make money and improve the quality of live for themselves and their families, but I would bet money that they’re not getting what they bargained for.

In a study by Jon Taylor for the FTC, 99% of MLM participants actually end up losing money, rather than making money. He explains that this is because, “without full-time and long-sustained effort, MLM participants cannot build and maintain a large enough downline to meet expenses, and therefore do not profit.” Taylor points out that you can confirm this yourself by looking at income disclosure statements provided by the companies themselves.

“But wait!” I see you wondering, “why would the companies publish that information if it’s really that hard to succeed with them?”

The answer is that they don’t want to get sued when 99% of their employees end up losing money, despite the fact that they were promised that they would be making thousands right out of the gate. Some Beachbody and Monat consultants have even gone so far as to include a disclaimer in their posts about their MLM. In fact, you can grab Beachbody’s right from their website, under their coach resources!

“Team Beachbody® does not guarantee any level of success or income from the Team Beachbody Coach Opportunity. Each Coach's income depends on his or her own efforts, diligence, and skill. See our Statement of Independent Coach Earnings for the most recent information on the actual incomes of all our Coaches.”

Don’t mind if I do, Beachbody! (See Figure 3)

Not including expenses, 77.3% of coaches in 2019 made an average of $427 for the entire year. The next 18.3% of coaches (Emerald Coach rank) averaged a whopping $3,086 for the year. That means that 95.6% of people selling Beachbody shakes and workouts made an average of less than $4,000 for the whole year of 2019.

Take into account the fact that most Beachbody coaches are expected to constantly be messaging people, recruiting, selling shakes, or participating in team calls, and the “business opportunity” that was marketed as “a side hustle you can do in your free time” starts to look less and less appealing.

Most MLMs have income disclosure statements available, and if they don’t, that should just be another red flag that maybe it’s not the best business opportunity; you would never take any other job without knowing how much you would be making at said job.

As I’ve continued to learn more and more about MLMs and the damage they can do to a person’s finances and personal relationships, the more passionate I’ve become about educating others about the dangers of joining an MLM. Recruiters tend to grab you when you’re the most susceptible to suggestions to join, so it’s important to look for the signs the next time a hun approaches you with an awesome business opportunity.

According to the FTC, you may be dealing with an MLM if…

Recruiting of participants is unlimited in an endless chain of empowered and motivated recruiters recruiting recruiters.

Advancement in a hierarchy of multiple levels of “distributors” is achieved by recruitment, rather than by appointment.

Ongoing purchases (products, sales “tools,” etc.) by “distributors” are encouraged in order for them to be eligible for commissions and to advance in the business ("pay to play").

The company pays commissions and/or bonuses to more than five levels of “distributors.”

For each sale, company payout for each upline participant equals or exceeds that for the person actually selling the product, creating an inadequate incentive to sell products directly and an excessive incentive to recruit.

In the end, it’s always important to do your research about any job, but it’s especially important to do so if your job offer begins with, “Hey, hun!”

Sources, links, and other readings:

“31 Simple Network Marketing Prospecting Scripts – 2020 Update” aka, Phrases to look for that mean “This is an MLM.”

Kate’s Closet LuLaRoe Blog

4 Things LuLaRoe Sellers Say About the Stress and Cost of Their Job

Attorney general cracks down on Monat hair care claims in wake of 13 Investigation

The Case (for and) against Multi-level Marketing by Jon M. Taylor for the FTC

FTC’s 5 MLM Red Flags by Jon M. Taylor

The Finance Guy for an economic take and breakdown on the numbers for the most popular MLMs

Megathread of MLM Companies

IsThisAnMLM.com

Kiki Chanel on Youtube

[foxfyrez]

I guess I’m putting this up here too. So here’s Chapter 1 to my shitty fanfic

To be honest running from cybernetic dogs wasn't the best thing in the world. Silent just showed up to do her job when these dogs found her and started chasing her throughout the underground city. It was not the best day. She had no idea where to go because she was new to this environment and almost ran into all the dead ends. She didn't want to run out into the open where people were, but she was tired of getting stuck in dead ends.

So now she was out in the open on the streets with five mutts chasing her. She avoided crowded areas with them trailing behind her, nipping at her heels. She shoved past people and tripped a few times while weaving back and forth through crowds she accidentally managed to get into. "Goddammit!" Silent cursed, seeing that the dogs wouldn't give up.

The dogs howled and charged at her, using some sort of jet booster and collided into her, knocking her into something. Two of the dogs were knocked out a bit due to ramming into a brick wall while the other three were still awake. The dogs began to snap at Silent's neck as she used a steel pipe to keep the creatures at bay though it only stopped one of them. The other two went after her leg and side causing her to scream.

Silent yelled, knocking back the larger dog with the steel pipe and looked at the two currently chomping down on her body. "That fucking hurts!" She tried prying off the dogs from her body to get away when she noticed the larger one getting back up again to come after her. She had no way of escaping this beast so she braced herself for the impact.

Suddenly the dog was hit by the front of a pinkish purple car. It slumped over the side slowly.

"What the fuck?" Silent questioned before using the steel pipe to pry off one of the dogs and shove him back far enough so she could smash the pipe into his head, downing him in an instant. Now that left one dog that was chewing on her leg. "Back off you mutt!"

The dog growled at her, clamping harder on her leg. It refused to let go.

Silent reared the pipe back again and crashed it into the dog's head, hearing something crack loudly and the dog yipped in pain. She felt relief in her body once it released her leg, and she staggered backwards. "Finally." The adrenaline was keeping her from feeling the pain.

A low growl caught her attention. One of the dogs from earlier let out a horrendous snarl and lunged for her, mouth open wide to clamp down onto something.

"Why won't you just fucking die!?" Silent yelled, ramming the pipe down the creature's throat and impaling it to the concrete near the purple car. Silent caught her breath as she heard the sound of a car door opening.

"Holy shit, that's fucking impressive girly." A southern accent had filled her ears. "But don't destroy them all, I need them for our roundup event."

Silent couldn't care less and just waved him off before jumping out of the way as the leader of the dogs lunged at her once more, missing and bouncing back right for her. "Goddammit!" She yelled, jumping over the purple car and ran right back into the open street to flee from the dogs. She was getting tired of this!

After running through the city, Silent took a detour through all the junkyards. She was scraped up from sliding across broken pieces of junk and random metals. Her leg was beginning to ache from running around a lot. She was going to have to patch herself up later. If she could get away from these dogs that is..

A snarl interrupted her thoughts as a particularly large and nasty dog ambushed her from the front and chomped down on her shoulder. It was the damn leader from earlier!

Silent let out a cry of pain. She struggled to break free from the beast, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "Get off me!" Silent ripped the beast off her aching shoulder and dashed off up to the large mansion she spotted earlier. Once she was up there, she heard some voices. "Oh great, people are here."

"And I told you I wanted this junk out of here this morning!"

"But sir, there's been multiple reports of Kane's robot dogs in the vicinity!"

"Then get rid of them! Every single moment I spend with you means less time with my babies!"

Silent overheard their conversation while catching her breath. She panted harshly, trying to stifle her breathing in case it was too loud. She leaned against an old car hood. Her shoulder started to ache in pain.

A sudden snarl brought her attention back to the situation at hand. The leader of the robot dogs appeared in front of her, licking its muzzle which was stained in Silent's blood. The beast roared, pouncing on Silent and shoving her out into the open where the two men were previously chatting.

Silent gasped as the air was shoved out of her lungs. She rolled a few feet away, stopping right in front of a man dressed in red and white.

"Woah! Who are you, little missy?" The man exclaimed, nudging Silent with his cane.

Silent groaned, looking up to see a man dressed in red and white. "Run!" She choked out, getting up and pulling out a huge scythe out of nowhere while growling deeply at the junk in front of her.

The man was startled but soon settled back. "Run from what exactly?"

Before Silent could answer, a pack of robot dogs (the same ones who chased her) appeared from behind the junkyard and soon began circling Silent. The leader stepped forward and let out a deep growl. It snapped at her, trying to aim for a piece of her.

"That answer your question?" Silent growled, swinging her blade down on one of the dogs. It pierced through the beast's head killing it instantly. She retracted her weapon from its head and looked for the other two dogs, spotting them going after the man.

"Hey! Get back!" The man held out his cane to ward off the dogs. He pressed a button causing the cane to generate electricity. "Back off!"

The dogs circled him, looking for an opportunity to charge in and take him out. One of the dogs reared back and lunged at him.

The man cowered, covering his face with his shoulders and his hands guarded his body. He waited for his demise only it never came. He opened one eye to peek around, "I'm not dead?"

"Hopefully not." Silent said, slicing the dog in half with her scythe. She let out a breath she was holding in. "When I said you need to run, that means run." She looked at the man, "Uh..."

"I'm the Duke of Detroit. You've probably heard of me, yes?" He struck a pose.

"Sorry, this is my first time in Motorcity so I don't know you."

"So you're not a Motorcitizen? You from Deluxe?" The Duke eyed the girl up and down, noticing she looked nothing like a Deluxian. Deluxians wouldn't dress the way she does and carry the weapon she has. She didn't look either Deluxian or Motorcitizen, so where was she from?

"I don't know what Deluxe is. Let's just say I'm out of town." Silent answered, holding onto her scythe out to attack the last dog which seemed to be the leader. "This gonna get nasty." Silent muttered.

The beast roared jumping on top of Silent while snapping at her head. It's claws dug into her skin, creating deep tears in her flesh. Drool flying in different directions as it tried to rip Silent's head off.

The Duke whipped his cane out and bopped the beast on the head. "Back!"

The beast looked up at the Duke in annoyance, growling at him slowly.

Silent took that chance to pierce through the beast's neck with her claws. It felt weird and mushy inside of its neck, and she didn't like it.

The beast let out a strangled yelp, shivering and shaking as it began to slowly stop struggling before finally stilling and slumping over Silent's body. The beast's blood dripped down her arm and onto her face.

Silent made a disgusted face, pulling her arm out of the creature's neck. She sighed for a moment, "If you're still here Duke, could you push it off me?"

"No can do sweetheart. I can't get blood on my outfit, it's hard to clean."

Silent made a noise of disapproval and used the rest of her remaining strength to push it off her body. The scarf on her body formed into giant clawed hands and forced the beast off of her. As soon as she was free, she jumped up and dusted herself off. The scarf returned to normal.

The Duke was in awe at the scene that played before him, and he began to clap as he stepped towards her. "Well done little missy! Well done!"

Silent let out a yawn, stretching her back as she remembered her aching shoulder. It seemed to have stopped bleeding, but it still had a dull throb. She looked at her leg to see it slightly still bleeding, but there was no pain. She needed them cleaned.

"Since you're from out of town, how about you start working for me?" The Duke put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in closely.

"Why should I?" Silent felt uncomfortable with him standing this close to her.

"Because you're new to Motorcity, and you don't know how things work down here. I could show you. Also, you'd get more experience working as my bodyguard since I'm out and about down in Motorcity." He replied.

Silent gave it a thought, "Sure, why not. Got nothing better to do."

"Congrats, missy, you're hired."

[fandomlife-giver]

The Job of A High School Chef!: 3

Summary: Though it was incredibly difficult and challenging, you succeed in pulling of the biggest climax ever at Ouran Academy.

Pairings: Eventual!Kyoya x Reader

@animallover1089

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3891

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"Ugh!" "Hold still!" "I don't like how this feels! It's so girly!" "It's a dress! It's not manly! Hush up and for Pete's sake, stop moving!" You flinched when she pulled the fabric tighter together and zipped up the back of the dress. And once it was over, you didn't even realize you were holding your breath until you heard her sigh in relief. She grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to where you were seeing yourself in the mirror.  "There. See, don't you look pretty?" You looked yourself up and down, on the outside showing a frowning disgust, but on the inside...you thought you looked kinda nice. "I hate it." She sighed and held back an eye roll. "Come on, you're used to wearing dresses, you shouldn't be so negative every time you put one on." You twisted your neck to look at her and smile. "I hate it." "Ow!" You yelped and rubbed the center of your forehead, where she flicked in you out of annoyance. She plopped a hand bag in your hand and smiled warmly at you. "I know this will make you uncomfortable, but just smile and at least try to have fun." And with a kiss on the spot where she abused you, she was practically pushing you out the door. "And try bringing home a cute one, okay?" Your eyes widened as you looked back, but she was already shutting the door. Glancing around at the empty street, you sighed deeply. And with your arms crossed, you began walking down the street. "Wait, Y/N!" Furrowing your brows, you turned around and once you saw the running figure of Haruhi, you smiled. "Hey, Haruhi. You're walking too, huh?" She shrugged as she stopped and you both continued walking. "My dad's not home around this time. So, you're stuck with me."

She stepped in front of me, moving her legs so she was walking backwards and looked you over. 

"Wow, you look great, Y/N. You should wear dresses more often."

She looked up and her happiness faded once she saw the frown on your face.

"No, thanks."

You took the moment to look over her outfit. Of course, it wasn't some poofy dress. It was a suit, most likely one provided by the host club. And you were sure that if anyone from school actually saw you both together, they'd assume the most logical thing.

*honk* *honk*

You both slowed down and looked back. You mentally groaned.

"Oh, great."

By the look of the sleek, long black limousine, you already guessed it was some group of girls ready to jump Haruhi's bones and stampede over you to do it.

But that thought left when the sun roof rolled down and two familiar faces poked out.

"Hey, sis! Hey, Haruhi!"

As soon as the car came to a stop, the door to the side facing you opened up and you both peeked inside, to see Tamaki relaxing in the seat right in front of it, Kyoya sitting beside him, and the legs of the two boys that first greeted you, standing beneath the exposed top.

Tamaki spread his arms.

"Good evening, ladies. It's far too cold to be walking out here. Care for a ride?"

Haruhi rose an eyebrow. "Uh, it's, like, 70 degrees out here."

Without giving her another moment to speak, you grabbed her arm and pulled her into the car with you.

"Come on, Haruhi. As if I want to do any more walking in these heels."

The door shut behind you and you felt the car begin to move again.

Tamaki was, of course, the first to speak.

"You look absolutely breathtaking, Princess."

He glanced over at the man next to him and chuckled. "Don't you agree, Kyoya?"

You gulped and turned to Kyoya, stiff as you awaited his response.

He glanced up from his phone call, then pressed the end button on his phone.

"Y/N, have you picked a song to perform tonight?"

Your excitement slowly faded and you looked away with a bid.

"Yes. I did."

He smiled in approval. "Good. I have high expectations, so don't mess this up."

You glanced back to him, eyes narrowed. "That I can promise. I won't let myself fail."

The twins poked their heads back inside the car and Tamaki looked up, while Haruhi also looked between you and Kyoya, pointing a finger between you.

"Wait. So, are you saying Y/N is actually singing tonight?"

Kyoya was typing away on his phone, then put it up to his ear.

"Well, it is what I'm paying her for. What kind of event singer would she be if she didn't?"

You were glaring daggers of death at him, and the car felt tense the entire car ride to the party.

*****

"It is so good to see you here tonight, my little lambs."

Tamaki rubbed his chin as he stared out at his audience.

"The Ouran Host club would like to bid you..."

Placing a hand under his chin, he bowed his head.

"Welcome."

At that single word, the light that made up one of the 3 chandeliers lit up, followed by the other two. The orchestra of violins filled the room, and the applause of the audience, that was only made up of women, rang in the air.

Stepping forward, you tied your apron around your waist and folded your hands behind your back as you addressed them.

"As always, ladies, the host club is here for your entertainment. So we invite you to dance to your heart's content. Based on your dancing skills, one lucky lady will be chosen as tonight's Queen."

You then outstretched your arms and gestured them over to the man standing above you on the second staircase. "The Queen's reward will be a passionate kiss on the cheek...from our King."

Tamaki smirked at them all and crossed his arms. "Good luck to you..." He then brought his fingers to his lips and blew them all a kiss. "My darlings."

Just that fantasy alone was enough to send the sea of girls into a frenzy. A few actually fainted. And it made you sigh through the smile on your face.

"Look at them. I'm almost embarrassed to call myself one."

Kaoru came up next to you and bumped your side. "Oh, cheer up, sis!"

Hikaru ruffled your hair and rested his elbow on your shoulder afterwards. "Don't worry, we'll make sure you'll have someone to dance with."

"Oh, yay, great."

Fortunately, their attention was moved over on to Haruhi as she was moping at the crowd.

They both appeared behind her with their hands on their hips, speaking simultaneously.

"Haruhi, show some enthusiasm!"

She sighed at them. "Well excuse me you guys, sorry. I'm not used to this sort of thing. I've only gone to the festivals held in my neighborhood park."

You crossed your arms at her. "I don't really think you can count that as a party. Only, like, 15 people even come to those."

Kyoya spoke up as he wrote on his clipboard without looking up at her. "Well, since you're already here, you might as well get something to eat. I'm sure one Y/N's dishes can raise your spirits. She's put out quite a spread."

Haruhi perked up and turned her head to you. "A spread? With....fancy tuna?"

The sound of Kyoya's pencil breaking by too much force out of surprise made you flinch as the twins widened their eyes.

You furrowed your brows, incredibly confused by what she meant. "Fancy tuna?"

And out of nowhere, Tamaki jumped down from where he had been standing above you and pointed at Kyoya in a commanding tone.

"Get some tuna here right now!"

Which resulted in Kyoya sharply turning his head to you, a voice of seriousness. "Y/N, prepare some deluxe sushi."

You were even more confused as to their reactions and why sushi was now such a high priority. Yet, you still smiled, though your eyebrow was twitching.

"Uh, okay." And off you scurried, towards the kitchen.

Haruhi shook her head and reached her hand out in an attempt to stop you. "Y/N, you don't have to-"

She was interrupted by the twins crushing her in a hug, which only made her frown.

Damn these filthy rich jerks.

*******

Once you had finished preparing the last minute load of fancy fish, you hopped out of the kitchen and made a beeline for Haruhi, who was leaning against a pillar, and being painfully unsocial. Once she caught sight of you, she smiled and waved.

You skid to a stop and outstretched the fresh platter to her with a wide smile.

"Her you go, fancy tuna!"

She giggled a little, bur still took the tray. The entire tray, might add.

"You didn't actually have to make it, you know."

You smiled wider. "It's my job to make those around me happy."

She shrugged. "Well, thanks."

And when she turned around to eat her treat, she didn't notice the whiff of air that came as a result of two figures flying by and you were gone seconds after. And when she did feel the air, she turned back.

"Y/N?"

******

You were kicking the two jerks that kidnapped you, and you were yelling at them to let go of you as they ran away, but it was muffled by your face being buried into one of their backs.

Until finally, they stopped running and you heard one voice.

"Great work, boys. Sozushima will be ready any minute, so let's hurry up and make her look presentable."

Kyoya?! 

As soon as they let you down, you were looking at the three of them in anger. 

"What is going on?!"

Instead of an answer, you were shoved back into a small cubicle and landed on the carpet. You winced at the impact, before looking up to see Hikaru holding a pile a folded dress.

"Get changed, we'll explain along the way."

And after tossing them inside, the curtain attached to it shut. You groaned when the dress landed on your face. However, when you took it off and looked it over, your eyes widened.

"T-This is beautiful."

Kyoya scoffed as he adjusted his glasses. "Obviously. The plan wouldn't work otherwise."

"What plan? What the hell is going on here?"

Kaoru leaned against the wall. "To sum it up, the guy you met yesterday, Sozushima, because he's Kanako's ex, we have a plan to bring them back together. Sozushima just arrived and we need you to change his mind and go after Kanako by charming him."

You paused with your dress halfway over your shoulders. "What kind of a plan is that?"

As one of them was about to answer, they were interrupted by what sounded like Haruhi yelling into the room. And all you heard next was Kaoru's voice.

"There she is."

Followed by the sound of Honey's laughter, then Haruhi's voice.

"You didn't have to be so forceful!"

"Never mind that, go get changed."

"Yeah!"

And with a gasp from her, the curtain opened back up and she nearly fell on top of you if you hadn't caught her.

You huffed as she turned around to start getting herself dressed.

"And why is Haruhi a part of this?"

This time, Hikaru began continuing what he was saying.

"There was a last minute issue. We didn't count on Princess Kanako's new fiance to show up this evening to look for Kanako. So, Haruhi here is going to distract him while you talk to Sozushima and the boss talks to Kanako. And when they're both convinced, we will send one after the other. Simple!"

Your eyebrow twitched as you were about to start ranting, but Kyoya's collecting voice beat you to it.

"You can't refuse this, Y/N. I am in charge of you and I say you have no choice to go against it. It's your job as a host club member to make every girl happy. And you hate to disappoint, don't you?"

You tensed up, then sighed out of defeat.

"A little accident towards the end of the night might make the evening more thrilling for everyone."  He chuckled to himself.

"Remember, ladies. There are only twenty minutes remaining before the party reaches its climax. And Y/N, once you finish your part, you need to be on stage to perform for the crowning of the Queen. Haruhi, Kanako's fiance is in the library downstairs, thinking Kanako is coming. Y/N, Sozushima is  waiting for you in the classroom across the hall."

Once you looked to see if Haruhi was done, you were shocked at what a wig, dress and some heels could do. "Woah..."

You slid the curtain door open and once the twins got a look at you, they gasped. "Sissy looks so pretty in that dress!"

But once you stepped aside, they practically yanked Haruhi over to the other side of the room. They forced her to sit down beside a table of various makeup items. 

Honey came over to you and pulled you over to sit beside her next to a hair styling station. Mori stood behind you and began brushing your hair, which you didn't expect at all and it admit ably made you blush a bit.

Honey sat down in front of you. "Now remember, you have to ask him how he feels, okay?"

You smiled down at him. "Don't worry, Honey. I know what to do."

And after Mori finished putting your hair into a loose side ponytail, there was the sound of the room's door opening.

"Here you all are! What are you doing? The guests are-" 

As you turned around in your seat, you saw the starstruck face of Tamaki as he watched Haruhi stand up and turn to look at him.

You followed after her and saw the more love struck look on his face and it made you crack a smirk.

Someone's in looove.

The twins appeared on either side of Tamaki with proud smiles. 

"What do you think?"

Honey looked up at the both of you in awe. "You both look so cute!"

While you began walking uncomfortably out of the room, Haruhi walked beside you, frowning.

"My face feels heavy and it's hard to walk in these shoes!"

You groaned. "You get used to it."

The twins waved you both off as you walked down the hall.

"Good luck!"

******

As soon as you opened the door to the classroom, you saw the back of Sozushima as he gazed out the tall window. And when he heard the door close, he turned and once he saw your face, his eyes enlarged with surprise.

"Y/N? You're the one who wrote this letter?"

You were confused when he held up a folded piece of paper.

"Letter?"

******

'I'm in love-love! From the first time I saw you, I've been head over heels in love! Hehe! It's like my heart is stuck in a never ending typhoon! All these feelings of love keep whipping around in my heart like the breaking waves! When the typhoon's rising water's come, I want to rendezvous with you on Noah's ark! I do! I do!' 

Your face was filled with embarrassment as you finished reading the letter.

I am going to kill those boys.

"Y/N, I didn't know you actually felt that way after we met. I admit there was some sort of connection, but..."

Your head shot up. "N-No! I-It's not what it - I mean I didn't-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I do like you and I am flattered, but I only saw you as a friend. You're a great girl, but I don't feel the same way."

When you actually saw his face, it was one of guilt, but you knew it wasn't for you.

"You see, another girl already has my heart."

You gave a weary smile. "I understand. I'm sorry, I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

He actually looked up at you, then out the window.

"Unfortunately, she's not my girlfriend. In fact, I don't think she wants anything to do with me. In all honesty, she'd be better with someone more self-confident than me."

 He sighed to himself. "That's why I decided to change. I want to see the world. Hopefully, become a better man. I know it's selfish, but I wonder if she'll wait for me."

"Yes, that is selfish."

His head snapped back to you, a look on his face as if he had just been stabbed in the heart.

You crossed your arms and shook your head at him. "Do you even realize how much she already cares for you?"

He furrowed his brows.

"It's Kanako, right?"

He froze up. "H-How did you-"

"Oh please, anyone with working eyes can see that. Look, you can't put yourself down because things didn't work out for the best between you two. You don't need to have self confidence, just confidence in her that she will accept you the way you are. You can't keep making excuses because you’re too afraid to just talk to her."

You folded your hands together and glanced back up at him.

"You can't hope for the best, you need to guarantee it. That won't happen by wishing. You already know who you should be talking to right now. And it isn't me."

His lips parted as he breathed out a response. "Thank you, Y/N."

You smiled at him right when you heard the door creak open. Looking back, you smiled bigger when you saw Kanako's heartbroken face at the sight of you two, before she quickly apologized and ran out of the room.

"Wait!"

You turned back to him and nodded your head. 

"Go get her."

Without a second thought, he ran out of the room, screaming her name.

"Kanako!"

You hugged yourself as you walked towards the door. It's our job, as members of the elite host club, to make every girl happy. And my job as the host chef to make every person satisfied with our service.

"Show time."

******

Standing atop the staircase outside in the cool evening air, you all waited patiently for them to come out. Honey was looking over the edge.

"Do you see them yet?"

You shook your head as you adjusted your mic. "Any second now."

And you were right. Not a second later, the figure of Kanako running out onto the gravel came to sight, with Sozushima right behind her. 

"Now?"

"Not yet."

The moment Sozushima grabbed Kanako's hand and forced her to look at him, Tamaki's hand shot up.

"Now!"

3 spotlights came on what at a time and brightly shined down on them. This left them staring up at the crowd of girls surrounding them, and the host club members that stood atop the staircase.

You stepped forward to the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen. It is now time for us to have the final dance of this evening's festivities. The last waltz of the host club has been chosen for..."

You gestured down to them.

"This couple."

When Kanako realized what was happening, a look of fear came on her face. She stepped back from him as he pulled his hand from hers and closed his eyes. He put out his hand to her and bowed his hand.

"Princess Kasaka...May I have this dance?"

Her eyes widened with terror as a blush came on his cheeks and he looked back up at her.

For a moment, he thought she would refuse, until she softly smiled and put her hand in his.

"...Yes."

The sight of it made a grin spread on your lips as you nodded to the band to start.

When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I could offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one there to dry your tears Oh, I hold you for a million years To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet But I will never do you wrong I've known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong

You opened your eyes to see the happy smiles plastered on their face, along with the awe of the twins at your voice as they devoured the banana sundaes from your spread. Though you couldn't laugh, your smile grew larger.

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue And I'd go crawling down the avenue No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do To make you feel my love

The storms are raging on the rolling sea And on the highway of regret The winds of change are blowing wild and free You ain't seen nothing like me yet

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true There's nothing that I wouldn't do Go to the ends of this Earth for you To make you feel my love, oh yes To make you feel my love​​​​​​​

Feel My Love ~ Adele

Once you finished your song, the music changed into something more upbeat and Tamaki outstretched his arms.

"Ah! May this awkward couple be forever blessed!"

You signaled the band to lower the music as you placed your hands on the mic.

"An now, we'll announce the Queen of the ball. Congratulations, Princess Kanako Kasakasazaki!"

The audience erupted into applause as the happy couple stopped dancing, yet more shock to register on their faces.

The twins popped up in between you and Tamaki. Hikaru pointed at Tamaki.

"And for her reward, a kiss on the cheek from the king!"

Said person smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. 

"You ready?"

Kaoru poked in between you and Haruhi.

"Haruhi Fujioka will stand in for Tamaki!"

They both froze up with dropped jaws.

You giggled. "Kyoya did say that a little accident towards the end of the night might make the evening more thrilling for everyone."

Haruhi's eyebrow twitched. "There is no way I can kiss her."

Kyoya spoke up from beside you. "If you do it, we'll cut your pay by 1/3rd."

She perked up almost immediately.

"Well, it is just on the cheek, right?"

Everyone watched in anticipation as Haruhi stepped down the stairs and went up to Kanako.

You tapped your chin as a thought came to mind.

"Hm, I wonder if this is Haruhi's first kiss."

Once he heard your comment, Tamaki snapped his neck to you. "What?!"

Just as Haruhi was about to kiss her on the cheek, Tamaki ran down the stairs with his arm outstretched. 

"Wait, Haruhi- !"

Unfortunately, he didn't notice the banana peel on the ground left by one of the twins, and when he tripped on it, instead of falling, his outstretched hand pushed Haruhi closer to Kanako, resulting in a full on kiss on the lips.

Their eyes widened as they quickly pulled away from each other. You quietly laughed at the look on Tamaki's face.

"Not bad for your first event."

You turned to look at Kyoya as his eyes moved on you. "You juggled a total of 5 tasks just for tonight and you accomplished them all flawlessly. Congratulations. How do you feel?"

You shrugged as you smiled widely and glanced at everyone.

"I think I'm gonna like it here."