#fuckit sketch too

[countthelions]

at this point Rsising Hell and all of your fics are my lifeblood now

ahah thank you!! and I do hope you're giving some of this love to my dear @silverskye13 who was the inspiration for so many pieces of art!!

For those wondering...

the original amazing amazing fic, A Good Ol' Fashioned Hell-Raising lives [here] and I do really recommend reading it if you're interested in some fun slowburning and good shenanigans set in the wild west!! [and while you're there check out what silver is currently writing, [monsters splitting hairs], because MY GOD IT IS S O!!!! GOOD!!!!!!]

and I've written not [one] or [two] not [three] but [four] entire fics and drew [one] [two] [three] [four] [five] pieces of fanarts because HR took over my heart (happily so!) I've got about four things in the works as well so uh,, tis the cowboy field that keeps on being fun to sit in!!

Here's part of sketch of one of those things I'm working on!!

[soft-pink-wilfy]

Actually, have a WIP because I am unhinged about this and had to get some of it out of my head. It's not the full image yet, and it's zoomed out and cropped for right now, but it's something goddammit and now I need to go tf to sleep.

I was working on some Dim Glow stuff in my brain while driving earlier (I've written like six chapters ahead at this point and mucked something up deviating a little from my written plotmap so I need to chew on that for a few days because what I did works better anyways) and instead of coming up with any meaningful solutions to the problem at hand, my brain instead decided to come up with AU that has no real ability for me to flesh out further than the concept.

So I present to you the concept of an AU where Martin and Tim get to the middle of the Distortion instead of Helen, so you end up with two unhinged boys Jon was uncomfortably close with before they got Spiraled. And they both just. Keep causing problems for literally everyone involved in the Institute. Still actively malicious, still "eating people" by luring them into the hallways and waiting for them to get lost, but now there's two of them and it's like the creepy twins from The Shining but with more neon colors and the faint sound of muzak in the distance.

[sroloc--elbisivni]

bunnyguard reflection

in the spirit of 'fuckit it's my own blog i can be sappy if i want to' as well as 'this took a year and 78k and i get to keep talking about it for at least one more day' now and here is the time and place for personal yap that did not go in the last author's note.

preliminarily speaking, i had this concept in mind before I'd finished either the usagi yojimbo comics OR watching Rise. i spent so much of both of those series fishing out little moments and choices by leo and usagi that made me go 'oh my god i NEED these guys to meet, i need to watch them bounce off each other.' I kept collecting snips of ideas, and dialogue, and encounters that never quite all panned out or fit together because this was just so much fun for me to play in. I had a lot of wanting to turn this into a real story but no concrete frame to build it on, and then in january i saw the year of the otp prompts go by. and went 'oh haha that looks fun.' it was even the year of the rabbit. and then i went 'oh!! what if i did VIGNETTES for these!!' and then less than three days later the Battle Nexus as political element of the Hidden City, complete with connections to the very different other iteration of it that we'd seen, fell into place and suddenly this silly little whim was an actual big project staring me down with an ambitious goal in mind, and I had no idea if I could pull it off.

structuring it as a month by month thing was something i'd never done before. it forced me to wait to find out what would happen, to keep building to something that didn't exist yet, to lay down the track while I was driving the train. and at the same time, it gave me space to grow, to practice putting together a beginning, middle, and end every month. and it gave me something to look forward to, and the excitement of dropping in threads that wouldn't pay off for months, and watching as it went to see what the audience reaction would be. were people getting out of it the things i wanted to give them? was i hitting the notes i wanted? i had the sketch of the year, but i was still learning what was going to happen until the moment the last word hit the page. plot and character choices, but also big thematic stuff! i described November's fic as 'the ten of swords' to Space and then went 'wait a fucking second' and realized that I could draw a connection, in order, between each fic and a numerical card of tarot's suit of swords. (mostly one-to-one --october straddles 9-10, and December loops us back around to the Ace of swords, for new beginnings.) i couldn't have done that on purpose. if i'd had that thought in january i would have gone 'no that's too pretentious and too hard' and avoided it.

also!! this has been a year of my life!! over the course of this series, i've had four different living situations (that lasted longer than a week), two different jobs, and gone back to school. i had to change meds, which was an anxious ordeal in 'am i even going to be able to focus on anything now?' the cat that was purring on my lap while i worked on the first few months has now passed away. this fic kept me company on the flight for my move to a different continent. it kept me sane in the middle of a very stressful summer. it's helped me meet and get closer to some really cool people. i can FEEL how it's made me a stronger writer.

and on top of all that: i am deeply, genuinely, truly proud of this series. i'm glad i wrote it. i'm amazed at how it's turned out. i can see things i would change if i did it over, but i'm glad i won't be. i'm glad this is the way it exists. and i am utterly blown away that there are people who told me they were looking forward to it every month, that they've been following it since the beginning, that they like what i've done with this place. this is the longest-term project i've ever done. it's the most words i've ever put into a single narrative. i can't believe it's never going on my wip rotation again. whadda hell.

i have no idea if i'll ever do anything like this again. i hope it won't be anytime soon--there are other things i want to do in the meantime. but god, am i glad i did it.

[synchlora]

[ID: A pencil drawing of the characters Revivedbur and Quackity standing next to one another. They are both doing a card spring flourish, tossing cards from one hand to the other. Wilbur is stood to the right of and slightly behind Quackity. Quackity is facing away from Wilbur, looking down at his own hands as he does the card trick. Wilbur is looking eagerly over at Quackity, leaned forward slightly to get his attention. Quackity appears to be actively trying to ignore him. /End ID]

Q's not the only one who can do card tricks anymore

[commanders-sole-braincell]

I spent at least an hour today watching people play Amongst Us and came to a conclusion or six:

- Ford and Lasair accuse each other on sight regardless of what happens

- No one ever believes Lasair it’s Ford. Everyone believes Ford it’s Lasair

- I drew on the sketch layer twice and gave up and just... did it on the third panel too

- I can’t spell Imposter (...Impostor?) correctly but fuckit

[nebowskii]

u know what? imma ramble about my ocs here too cause fuckit this dumbass zombie is such a dear character to me i love him so much<33 i might be feeling bad and in physical pain (for reasons lol) but sketching this dumdum always makes me so happy ahauhsha

[something-tofightfor]

Ink

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 3750

Rating: M (Language, implied smut, a little descriptive smut, drug use, drinking)

Author’s Note: This stems from a daydream that I had the other night of Logan Delos asking about my tattoos - and my brain wandered. Also, I know a lot of people have ink on their bodies... so I figured why the hell not. 

Summary: You and Logan are in bed - not for the first time - but he finally asks about something he’s been curious about for months.

@banditthewriter @breanime @obscurilicious @madamrogersstorytelling @suchatinyinfinity @chibiyanai @songtoyou @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @drinix @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots@shinebrightlikeafanbase @littlemermaidprobz @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @luminex3 @malik-payne@lexxierave @lynne1993 @elanor-of-imladris @bucky-is-my-precious @traeumerinwitzhelden @mfackenthal @weallhaveadestiny @ladyblablabla @sweetybuzz25 @dreamwritesimagines @thesumofmychoices @audreychaz @tc-elliot @dreams-with-thoughts @kind-wolf @gollyderek @honeyydippaa @thesandbeneathmytoes @geeksareunique @benbarnestongue @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12

Even with your eyes closed and your mind half asleep, you felt his fingertips moving, lightly tracing over the smooth skin of your shoulder and toward your spine. “Feels good, Logan.” You spoke without opening your eyes or turning your face from the pillow, knowing that he’d understand. “What’re you doing?” His fingers continued their movement, pressing just a little harder as he reached the center of your back, and after a short pause, you felt his other hand on you too, fingers digging into the skin of your hip. 

 “You never talk about ‘em.” He paused. “Why not?” Shifting in the bed, you turned your head toward him, finally opening your eyes and searching for his face. “They’re…” Not wanting him to remove his hands from your skin, you simply stretched your arms upward and beneath the pillows your head rested on - soft and thick in their pristine white cases - the same color as the sheets and blankets that were beneath your body. Unsure of how to respond, you stayed quiet, closing your eyes again as Logan’s hands continued to move, his touch soothing against your heated skin. What’s there to talk about? 

 You were in one of the Mesa suites with Logan, waiting for the morning train into Westworld. Though it was actually a work trip, Logan was treating it as a vacation - and why wouldn’t he? He worked hard, just like you did, and deserved a night or two to blow off some legitimate steam even while focusing his attention on the park, so who were you to stand in his way? No one. I’m no one. The thing you had going with Logan had started as shameless flirting on his part and reluctance on yours, but that had shifted quickly as time passed. Sure, he was attractive and charming and put together; he was Logan Delos, after all, and though respectful of your denials of his first actual advances, it hadn’t taken long for him to break through your defenses and get you into bed - consequences be damned. 

 You knew him - knew what he was capable of, what he was truly like; recognized the facade that he put on for the public, the image that he tried to maintain, even though he was miserable with the women and the drugs and the alcohol most of the time. You weren’t under the impression that you were any different from any of the others - that Logan actually felt anything for you other than what he could get from you in bed - at least not at first. But after a few months of him calling or texting once or twice a week, making it a point to stop by your office at work just to say hello… your opinion of him - and what you meant to him - started to shift. 

 “There’s nothing to tell, Logan.” You finally sighed, shaking your head and opening your eyes. “You see them, you know what they are, it’s just… decoration.” Logan was no stranger to human skin, but what he typically had his hands on was untouched by time, unblemished by scars or the sun, perfect in every sense of the word. You weren’t, and that was only one of the reasons that you’d resisted him in the first place even though you’d been infatuated with everything about him from the moment you’d been hired in at Delos Inc. You’d met him by chance as you walked through the hallway toward your office, his wide smile one of the first things you saw on your second morning on the job … and you’d been halfway gone ever since. 

 “It’s just…” He sighed, leaning down and you felt his lips press between your shoulder blades, the fingers of his right hand down near your waist, thumb softly swiping over the skin. “Every time I see ‘em, I want to ask, but it’s not my…” He groaned quietly, breath moving across your skin. “Tell me about them.” Your heartbeat quickened at the tone of his voice, the feeling of his fingers moving upward again, tracing over the edges of the familiar patterns that you’d had inked on your skin years earlier - starting right around the time you’d finished your undergrad degree. 

 “I started out small.” You shifted on the bed, keeping your back facing upward but propping yourself up on your left elbow. “Didn’t want anything visible, because I thought I’d be getting some big corporate job.” He laughed, waiting, and you licked your lips before continuing. “I actually almost covered up the first tattoo I got, Logan.” You took a breath. “Right side, bottom of my ribcage, the tortoise?” He moved his hand there and you felt his fingertip circling around the inked lines of the shell, following them in a way that no one else ever had. “When I decided to get more done? I wanted to be sure that it was all… that it went together.” Pausing, you took a deep breath as you felt Logan’s lips make contact with your skin, pressing down before he pulled away. 

 “You kept it.” You agreed that you had, eyes still open and focused on the fireplace across the room, flames flickering in the semi-darkness. “Why?” Why are you asking? 

 “I got that one as a reminder to take chances and put myself out there.” It didn’t help. “But I didn’t get a real job no matter how many places I applied.” You laughed. “I applied at Delos twice in that year, Logan. No response.” You shrugged, lowering yourself back onto the pillows, arms moving beneath them. You were stretched out atop the blankets, completely nude but it didn’t bother you the way it had when you’d first started sleeping with Logan because he had a way of making you feel comfortable that you couldn’t explain. “So I decided to take on more debt and go back to school… and I used some of that money for the rest of all that.” Irresponsibility at its finest. 

 “How long did it take?” His face was close to your skin again as he spoke, lips brushing against you. “It’s not small.” 

 “It’s my whole back, Logan.” You sighed, thinking. “I found a guy that wanted to piece it together and gave him total freedom to do what he wanted with it as long as it stayed geometric and black ink.” You licked your lips again, remembering the planning sessions, the sketches of the designs, the way that Asher had laughed and joked with you throughout each tattoo session - sometimes late into the night, always making sure you were comfortable. “I started the big one when I was 24 and the whole thing was finished just after I turned 27 - a few months before I finally graduated.” 

 “That why you sleep on your stomach?” The question - more of an observation, really, shocked you, because you hadn’t realized that Logan watched you sleep, that he was aware of any of your habits when they didn’t include him. He didn’t wait for an answer, his hands moving to your shoulders and tugging you upward. “Sit up.” You did as he asked, crossing your legs beneath you as Logan moved into a kneeling position behind you, his hands still on your shoulders. “Keep goin’,don’t stop talking.” You opened your mouth, and it was like the request had opened the floodgates as you explained the story of your ink to Logan - wanting to cover your back, but not your shoulders, how you’d stopped caring what people thought when they saw you in a bathing suit or a tank top as the design progressed, moving downward and outward, even encompassing both sides of your ribcage, how the looks from people asking how you expected to get a job using your degree when you were covered with ink failed to bother you after a year or so… it all came out, even as Logan’s hands worked the muscles in your back, his knees hugging your hips. He’s already got me in bed, he doesn’t need to… 

 “I didn’t care, Logan. I was so… I never thought I’d get that corporate job, so it wouldn’t matter. I’d have the degree and it just… I’d be doing something somewhere where I wouldn’t have to worry about wearing anything fancy or what people thought, or ...” You trailed off as you felt his lips on your shoulder, teeth gently biting down on your skin. “But here? You should have seen the first time I went to one of the Delos parties, it took me hours to find a dress that I liked that covered most of it, and…”

 “And people still said things to you, didn’t they?” You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as you remembered the disapproving looks you’d gotten from the other Delos higher-ups when you’d walked into the Christmas party, the top of the tattoo peeking out over the back of the dress, the employees that spent as much time and effort as possible to look as flawless as their Host creations widening their eyes and whispering to each other. “You looked amazing in that dress.” He spoke into your ear, lips finding the tender spot of skin behind it. “The blue one with the lace?” You stopped talking completely, hands freezing on the sheets in front of you. He remembers? “I could tell you were tryin’ to hide somethin’ with the way that you had your hair, anyone else would have put it up from the beginning… but you came with that dress, hair down… and when you were dancin’, I saw it.” He paused, and then you felt his mouth on your skin again, lips pressing against the spot on your back where the top of your tattoo was - just a few inches below the base of your neck. “You shouldn’t hide it, it’s gorgeous.” 

 He kissed you as he spoke, and you breathed out his name as you felt his tongue moving along the lines inked on your skin, following them lower. You’d been sleeping with him for months, but he’d never focused on your tattoos before, never made a comment about them aside from the “damn, that’s a lot of ink” he’d uttered the first time he’d gotten you naked, but now that he’d started, you didn’t want him to stop. “What am I gonna do, Logan? Wear backless dresses and -”

 “Sure. Or get more.” He spoke again, hands on your shoulders, pushing you gently forward. “You’ve already got the job, what’s stoppin’ you?” His question made sense, but you couldn’t think straight as he continued to kiss and lick at your skin, even adding teeth into the mix as he neared your spine. You settled in with you elbows on the mattress as you supported your chin with your hands. Logan paused long enough to gather your hair into his hand, twisting it into a knot and reaching out with his other one for the elastic that you kept on your wrist, which he used to secure your long locks, exposing your entire back to him. “Hours,” he murmured, as his hands returning to your back, the edges of his nails running along your skin and causing you to shiver. “Someone else spent hours with their hands on you, doin’ this to you.” It was actually days, but… The process of filling in your entire back with ink had taken longer than you’d imagined, sitting for four or five hours a session every few months as the linework accumulated and the shading began, the intricate details of the lines and dots and curves taking shape and becoming the only visible thing on the skin of your back and sides. “Would you believe me if I said that I was jealous?” 

 “What?” You blinked, turning your head even though he was so far down your body that you couldn’t see him. “Logan, it was years ago, and -” 

 “You sleep with ‘im?” He cleared his throat. “The artist, I mean?” What? No. “Someone sees this much of you, gets to be … to touch you for so long, I -” 

 “Of course I didn’t, Logan. He did the tattoos, nothing more.” Why does it matter? He’d shifted behind you, breath hitting the skin just above the curve of your hip, fingertips on either side of your body. You hadn’t known that Logan was capable of such a gentle touch - though he’d never hurt you or been too rough with you, sex with him was more often than not just that: sex. Sure, he made sure that you were satisfied, touched you in the right ways and places, took care of you, but it had never been like this - never with such a focus on your body, on the part of it that completely set you apart from everyone else. “Logan, what -” 

 He was kissing his way up your side, left hand beneath your body as his fingers worked their way up your abdomen, pulling you backwards and against the smooth, solid muscle of his own body. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time, I just…” His tongue was out again, hot and wet against your skin as he palmed one of your breasts, squeezing and causing you to hum quietly, hands dropping back to the blankets and your head hanging down. “I donno how he did it,” Logan continued, lips once again at your shoulder, his beard scratching gently over your sensitized skin. “Kept his hands off of you? I couldn’t. I can’t.” You let out a breath, shaking your head. He can’t talk to me like this, can’t… I feel… Logan pulled you back up, one hand still on your chest, the other at your throat, turning your head. He bit down and you gasped as he sucked gently on it, your back pressed against his front, his arousal hard against your skin. 

 Minutes passed as Logan touched you, his hand dropping from your throat to your stomach, fingers skimming your curves as they moved, mouth still locked on your skin. You wanted to speak to him, wanted to respond, but you couldn’t - you never could when he was touching you or inside of you, when your bodies were pressed together and slicked with sweat - and even though that wasn’t the case since it was comfortably cool in your suite, you were still stunned into silence. This isn’t Logan, this isn’t… Your body, though, responded on its own, arms moving up, one of them curling around the back of his head to tangle your fingers in his long hair, nails scratching his scalp while the other hand found his, still holding onto your breast and covered it, squeezing. “Logan.” It was more of a moan than spoken and he responded immediately to it, mouth coming off of your skin for brief seconds before his lips found yours, your hand guiding his head to where you wanted it most. 

 The truth was that when Logan was inside of you or using his fingers or tongue on you, it felt incredible, but what you enjoyed the most was when your mouths met - kisses shared in the darkness, your name leaving his lips in hushed tones as he kissed you - only you, knowing what you wanted and needed and giving it to you without hesitation. You felt more connected sometimes in the moments when you were fully clothed, his lips finding your cheek or the top of your head than you did when you were beneath him. He shifted, peeling himself away from you and moving in front of you on the bed, knees causing the mattress to dip down even as you scrambled to kneel in front of him too, hands moving to his shoulders and gripping them tightly as one of his moved back to your hip. “No one else.” He shook his head, a lock of hair falling down over one eye. “I don’t want anyone else to have you like this.” He swallowed, the back of one finger moving over your cheek as his eyes met yours, his tongue moving to wet his lips. “I tried to keep it casual with you, tried to just… to just fuck you and leave it at that, like I do with everyone else.” 

 You felt a searing pain shoot through your body, heart dropping. You’d known there were others, known what you were to him - stealing nights and early mornings whenever he wanted, whenever it was convenient. You hadn’t been with anyone else since starting at Delos; the thought of going to bed with anyone - even someone that would commit to you and only you a foreign concept  - absolutely unthinkable -  once you’d been with Logan, and you’d resigned yourself to taking whatever he’d offer without question… but hearing it? Hearing what he’d done? How he’d looked at what you were doing?  “Logan, I don’t -” Wait. No one else? He doesn’t… what? 

 “This is work. This trip, it’s work.” He sniffed, shaking his head, the hand on your face dropping to the curve where your neck met your shoulder, his thumb resting in the dip of your throat while his fingers curled around the top of your arm. “But it’s… the only way I could get you away from… fuck.” He looked down, the hand at your hip tightening and pulling you closer to him. “I wanted you here in bed with me, wanted you in the park with me, wanted you to... “ The pain was dissipating, replaced with a longing that you hadn’t ever allowed yourself to feel around him. Maybe. “I don’t give a fuck about any of the other… I don’t give a shit if they’re covered in tattoos or scars or have fake tits or … it’s just a part of the scenery.” Logan leaned in, his lips on the corner of your mouth. “But I want to know everything about you, and the tattoos are just the beginning. I’ve wanted to ask for weeks, I…” He swallowed, fingers moving to the back of your neck and tightening as he leaned back to stare at you, lower lip trembling slightly. 

 “Logan, what are you saying?” You swallowed too, feeling your chest heaving as you breathed, trying to control what you were feeling, make sense of his words. There’s no way. Logan was unattainable long term; he’d worked his way through countless men and women in Los Angeles and New York and even at Delos - you were just one in a line of many, but maybe… no one had ever mentioned him this way - open and confessing something close to actual feelings for anyone that he’d taken to bed. Why me? “Why, Logan, why me?” 

 “Because you don’t give a fuck.” He licked his lips, tongue moving against yours as he did so, a minute shake of his head. “Because you’re different than all of them, and you’ve treated me differently, too.” He wrinkled his nose. “You never tried to make me settle, never expected anything from me, never…” He stopped, kissing you out of the blue, lips crashing into yours with an unexpected ferocity, your mouth dropping open in surprise. He didn’t waste the opportunity, deepening the kiss as he slid his hand around to your lower back, fingers splayed against your skin. “You made me want you, and not just out of convenience. That’s new for me.” He took a deep breath, letting it out - and it was shaky, unlike Logan’s usual. 

 “You want me?” You couldn’t keep the surprise out of your voice, the tremble from it as you asked the question you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t ever ask him. “Logan, I can’t be… I’m not what… People would…”

 “If I gave a fuck what they thought, of me, I’d be dead by now.” His words were sure, no shakiness or hesitation. “They mean nothing to me - fuck every single one of them.” He groaned as he kissed you again, lips moving against your throat, his hair tickling your cheek and his beard against your shoulder. He eased you backwards, waiting until you were on your back beneath him before he spoke again. “I want you, and not just like this.” He smirked, the expression changing into a grin after only a few seconds. “Although, this is… enjoyable... “ His expression shifted again, eyes going hard as he stared down at you. “And they won’t say a goddamn word to you if you’re next to me.” His hands were back at your sides as he knelt over you and without looking, you knew that he was tracing the ink on your skin again - fingers moving along the lines like he knew them by heart. Does he? “Fuck them.” He shook his head at the same time you nodded, hands reaching up toward his chest, curling as they made contact. “Fuck them all. That’s not how it is anymore. Not for you and me.” You nodded again, his name the only thing that you were capable of saying, eyes focused on his. Yes, Logan. That’s what I want.

 He closed his eyes, leaning down toward you and within seconds, his body was pressed flat against yours, one of your legs wrapping around his hip to draw him in even closer as your nails dug into his back. Teeth closing around your earlobe, Logan bit down, letting a breath out through his nose before he breathed your name and the words “fucking finally”, hands fisting in the sheets next to you. Tell me about it. You reached between your bodies, fingers closing around his length and Logan repeated your name, reaching for the bedside table where he’d left the box of condoms and pulled another one out, passing it to you. Something’s changed.

A few moments later as Logan sunk into you, groaning your name out again as he buried his face against your neck, you realized what it was. You weren’t doing anything different, hadn’t changed… but Logan had, almost like giving himself permission to trace the lines on your body and question you about them had created a new connection between the two of you; a new pattern - one that you couldn’t wait to learn yourself.

[jackalope-farm]

I encountered a graveyard set piece I’ve never seen before in DST the other night. I dug it all up and only encountered one ghost (there were like 18 graves too).  The very last one I dug up activated all the other graves so I had 18 ghosts chasing me across the map lol!

Gah!  I always do this to myself:

1. Have good Idea for comic...

2. Sketch and plan everything out..

3. Start to make a full painting...

4. Only work on a little bit of it...

5. Get Distracted by something else...

6. Never finish it...

7. Never finish it... 

8. Never finish it...

9. ???

10. Oh fuckit I’ll post it on tumblr anyway...

[crowscrone-archive]

Click the picture to get through to the fic!

As of today, all of Hackity-Hack is uploaded! I got lazy on my end with making update posts on this blog as I updated the fic. College has severely sucked the life out of me. The next part of Low-Key, Cold Front, will be coming out tomorrow. I’m excited, since that leads to more fun character interactions and more development of Theo within the Rogues.

As a celebratory little thing, I’ve also uploaded a small character-dynamic sketch story that features Evan McCulloch and Theo called Too Loud at 6 AM. It’s set towards the end of Cold Front, but doesn’t reveal anything spoilerific from it. It explores the first meaningful interaction between the two of them and the true start of their friendship (similar to how that scene in Chapter 4 of Hackity-Hack starts Leonard and Theo’s very platonic relationship [I’ve gotta emphasize that since I had some classmates IRL ask me if the adult man and the 14 year old were dating]).

Spoiler rambling under the cut for Too Loud at 6 AM and Cold Front.

Too Loud started as me being really fond of my interpretation of Evan’s character, since I was rather fond of him once he got rolling in his dialogue in Chapter 5 of Hackity-Hack. I wanted Too Loud to be the realization for Theo and Evan realizing that they are very similar in a way that meshes well and both of them responding positively to that realization. With everything Theo will go through in Cold Front, I figured at the end of it she needed to realize that she had more potential for positive relationships in her environment than she thought she did prior to the events of Cold Front. With Evan, this is just the course of a lot of healthy development he’s been going through (admittedly off-screen) mixed with the traditional McCulloch “fuckit we’re jumping into this” instinct thrown in.

[mosylufanfic]

I'd love to see Killervibe + 23, please. Thank you!

Me: Hey, strangers on a train! This should be fun and easy!

Also me: discards three different ideas over the course of two days

Also also me: spends a week researching various aspects of law enforcement, eventually goes “aw fuckit” and handwaves what’s left

Stop in the Name of

“Most people are nervous about flying.”

“Hmm? What?” Cisco Ramon looked up.

The woman sitting across from him lifted her eyes from her book. “I said, most people are nervous about flying. Not taking the train.”

He studied her. She had big brown eyes and long dark reddish hair twisted into a braid, and she wore a suit and a cool, unapproachable expression. She looked like someone who was going to a meeting in another city about accounts receivable or stocks and bonds or something. She didn’t look like a chaos villain.

Still, there was a reason his vibe had tugged him in this direction as he was boarding, and right now it was going pingpingping on his brain stem. “Oh, well, you know. Just about anything can crash horribly these days.”

She considered him for a moment without cracking a smile. “Hmm. Interesting way of looking at it.” She went back to her book.

Tough crowd.

His foot jittered again, bumping the seat, and she looked up again. He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Well, shit, it was reasonable to be nervous when you’d been dreaming about this train derailing horribly for the past week, and now you were on it and only about 44% sure you’d be able to do something about it. To stop the twisted metal and the twisted bodies, the blood and the screaming -

No pressure or anything.

He took a deep breath and pressed his foot into the floor.

He pulled out his notebook and turned it to the most recent page, which was scribbled all over with notes like red upholstery and white ribbon and blue eyes.

He’d added scrawled, terrible sketches of the disjointed images that he hadn’t been able to piece together - a coiled snake, a line of metal studs in leather, a rain of some tiny items spitting at his face.

He hadn’t needed to write much about what happened every time - screams and crashes and the shriek of tearing metal. It was all burned into his cerebellum.

But directly in the center top of the page he’d put one word - COLD.

The cold had been overwhelming in every dream. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from, but every time it came he woke up shivering, no matter how many blankets he piled on or how far up he turned the heat.

He rubbed his hand over the worn, dark red upholstery of his seat. Well, got that, he thought wryly. He’d taken this train all his life, so the red upholstery had been one of the first things he’d ID’d.

He looked around, checking faces and matching them to what he’d seen in his dreams. That lady there, knitting - he’d seen her with blood pouring down her face. That guy working on his computer, he’d been screaming. That kid with the earbuds in, playing a game on his phone, had been -

Okay, no, he ordered himself. He was going to stop this, or at least be around to help, and - well. It wasn’t going to turn out like that, was all.

He hadn’t seen the woman in the seat across from him, he realized, and wondered why.

He glanced at her, and found her eyes flicking back down to her book. She’d been looking at his notes, he realized. “Want me to turn it around so you don’t have to read upside down?” he asked sweetly.

“I’m fine,” she said. After a moment she added, “Looks like a lot of notes you’ve got there.”

“Just some thoughts for work.” He nodded at her book. “Interesting reading?”

“For work,” she said.

“Mmmm,” he said, and doodled a snowflake in the top left corner of the page. “See, cuz I couldn’t help but notice, you haven’t turned a page in like ten minutes. So either you’re a really slow reader or you’re actually not reading at all.”

She put the book down. “Well, you’re pretty observant, aren’t you?”

“I do my best.”

“I’m sure you do. Well, I’ll give you one warning. Stay out of this if you know what’s good for you.”

His heart beat in his ears. “Oh, I hardly ever know what’s good for me.”

She opened her mouth, but at that moment, a burly guy got to his feet a couple of rows up. Standing, he revealed the design on the back of his jacket - a twisted snake.

Cisco’s eyes narrowed. Had she been trying to distract him? His bosses kept him on the down-low, it was true, but word might have gotten out.

The woman opposite him frowned, then looked over her shoulder. “Friend of yours?” she said.

He met her eyes. “Never seen him before in my life.”

He looked back. The snake was moving toward the front of the carriage. To go to the bathroom?

The bathroom was in the other direction. What was to the front of the carriage was the conductor, and the engine.

Cisco found himself on his feet, and found that she’d risen too.

“I told you stay out of this,” she said in an undertone, starting down the aisle.

“Like hell,” he muttered back.

She huffed and turned back, and he took the opportunity to flick the switch on his gauntlets. They  hummed against his palms and the backs of his wrists, no longer just leather motorcycle gloves but something more.

As he looked at the back of her head, a thin ribbon of white slid down her hair, twisting through her braid. His footstep stuttered.

“Sir,” she called out. “Sir, where are you going?”

Snake looked over his shoulder and picked up his speed, reaching out to yank at the door. It didn’t budge, and he hit it with his palm.

“Sir, you’re not permitted in that section - Sir.” She spread her fingers at her sides, and thick mist swirled around them. “You need to stop what you’re doing right now. I’m with the U.S. Marshals and my powers are active.”

As the other people in the carriage gasped and ducked, Cisco caught his breath.

My powers are active.

That phrase was one of the first things you learned at the academy - identifying that you, as a meta, were armed and dangerous simply by existing. FBI, Marshals, ATF, police, it didn’t matter, they all had to memorize it, and they all sneered at movies and TV that got it wrong or skipped it.

“Sir, I’m telling you again to stop what you’re doing and step away from the door - ”

Cisco’s eyes flicked over, and he saw the guy who’d been sitting next to Snake, already half-on his feet. A pattern of studs decorated the collar of his leather jacket. He was already pulling his arms back, teeth bared, focused on the marshal.

Cisco swung his hands up and yelled “CCPD, my powers are active!” Square on the heels of his announcement, he threw a small boom, just enough to knock Studs back into his seat.

The marshal’s head whipped around for the briefest of instants, and their eyes met. Hers had turned blue.

The next second, she’d whipped back around and slammed something out of her hands. Mist billowed, Snake’s jacket frosted over, and ice coated the lock.

The temperature plunged and Cisco thought, Well, there’s the cold - but he couldn’t focus on her anymore because Studs was out of his seat again, lurching toward Cisco, arms outstretched. Something like a small hail of rocks or bullets burst out from his palms.

“The fuck,” Cisco said, and simultaneously ducked and ripped a breach in the air between them, so that whatever Studs had thrown disappeared harmlessly into the nothing. Cisco zipped it up again and threw a bigger boom, knocking the other meta back. “That’s attempted assault with deadly powers,” he called out. “Stand down, you’re in enough trou - shit!” He had to rip the breach open again to swallow the metal shards.

He didn’t duck this time, but leapt, zipping the breach as he did, so he landed on Studs, sending them both to the floor between the two rows of seats. The bigger man heaved and wrestled, slamming Cisco against the seats. He winced as the armrest dug into his kidney, but slapped his hand over Studs’ ear and sent a very specific set of waves down his ear canal, just enough to lightly scramble his inner ear and make his head spin.

Studs went limp and collapsed on the floor.

“You’re under arrest,” Cisco panted, hauling Studs’s hands behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney - ”

Studs still squirmed, but by the time Cisco asked if he’d understood his rights as they were explained to him, he’d subsided, and only nodded sullenly, face mashed into the floor.

When he had Studs cuffed in a window seat in the first row, Cisco looked up to check on the marshal. She had Snake pressed against the wall of the train carriage, neatly cuffed. He was still shivering, and the ice was slowly melting from the door between the carriage and the engine.

She was on her radio, firing off codes. Cisco glanced around to check on the civilians and found them all huddled at the far end, looking at all of them - Cisco and the marshal, too - with fear and suspicion.

He sighed. Some gratitude. That was norms for you.

He looked back at the marshal, who sighed and shrugged at him before calling out, “There will be a short interruption in travel while these gentlemen are removed from the train. We should be on our way again soon.”

A chorus of groans and mutters rose up, but she ignored them, steering Snake around to sit in the window seat in the row across from Cisco and Studs, cuffing him in place. She sat in the aisle seat.

“Nice job,” Cisco told her across the aisle. “Marshal - ?”

“Snow,” she said. “Caitlin Snow. You, too. You’re CCPD?”

“Officer Cisco Ramon, at your service. Quite literally.”

She shook the hand he held out. “You’ll have to transfer custody, I’m afraid,” she said as the train began to slow.

“Hey, he’s all yours,” Cisco said under the sound of the conductor making the same announcement that she had a few minutes ago. “I’m technically off-duty. This wasn’t how I thought today was gonna go.”

He looked around the train, still intact, at the people not lying broken and bloodied, and thought, But this is preferable.

He looked back at the marshal, whose eyes were slowly turning back to brown. The white streaks in her hair were darkening up again. She caught his eye and smiled at him, and he thought, Way preferable.

On Friday, Cisco was in his lab, bopping to the beat, when somebody cleared their throat loud enough to be heard over the music. He glanced over and saw Marshal Caitlin Snow in the doorway, and slammed his hand down on the off button.

Not only had she caught him dancing, it had been to Lady Gaga.

“Hi,” he said, feeling his face go red. “Hey. To what do I owe the honor, Cai - Marshal Snow?”

“Officially, I’m here to interview you for my report,” she said. “Unofficially, I’m here to thank you again. The Harknesses definitely would have gotten the better of me if you hadn’t been there.”

The Harkness brothers were Snake and Studs, known on their birth certificates as Jason and Bryan. “No problem. Happy to help. Is that just your thanks, or is that coming from the U.S. Marshals?”

She went poker-faced. “The U.S. Marshals’ official statement is that while they are of course grateful for any assistance rendered by local law enforcement, they have a firm policy against assigning more than one meta-human to a single op. While it was unavoidable in this case, steps will be taken to ensure it doesn’t happen again. For the continued peace of mind of the general public, of course.”

He nodded. “Got bawled out?”

“At length.”

“Same here. I mean, what are we supposed to do? Check the Eiling registry? Do a blood test?” He waved his hands. “‘Ooooo, so sorry, didn’t know another metagene was in the room. I’ll let you handle these bad guys on your own.’”

She shrugged. “It’s the price of admission.”

For people like them, she didn’t have to say.

He sighed. “Well, I don’t get put in the field much, so it more than likely won’t come up again.”

“Why not?”

“Why don’t I get put in the field? Uh, my powers freak some of the guys out.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, I’m more useful to the department in here, building defensive equipment against metas. To tell the truth, everyone in the precinct was pretty shocked I knew my ass from my elbow in that fight.”

“They must not be paying attention,” she said.

He felt heat crawl up his face and changed the subject. “So - the Harknesses. What was their game, anyway? Did they just wanna create mayhem or what?”

She studied him, clearly debating on how much to tell him. “Did you notice the third car down when you boarded?”

“The one with all the power dampeners?” A lot of high-level power dampeners made you sick to your stomach. His breakfast had practically come up, right there on the platform.

“It was a federal prisoner we were transporting to Starling for incarceration. Every car had at least one Marshal on it, for just the kind of thing we prevented.”

The tone of her voice told him clearly that was all he was going to get about that. “I thought you boys normally went by Con Air.”

“The nature of this meta, flying wasn’t an option. Anyway, the Harknesses thought they’d hijack the train and make off with him.”

A cold chill rolled down his spine. “It wouldn’t have worked. It would have been way worse.”

She tilted her head. “You said something like that on the train. How would you know?”

“I get these flashes sometimes,” he explained. “Uh. Vibes. Shots of something that’s going to happen. And for the past week, I’ve been seeing this train leap the tracks. And everyone in it - ” He grimaced. “Not pretty.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “But you said you were off duty.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I asked to be assigned to the train for the day, and they said no.” He shrugged. “It crosses jurisdictions and there wasn’t any obvious crime in my vibes. Just, uh, a blood drenched disaster that might or might not happen.”

“So you -”

“Took a personal day and bought a train ticket,” he said.

“To board a train that you were pretty sure was going to derail and kill everyone on board.”

“Always in motion is the future,” he said breezily. “Clearly that changed. Don’t look so shocked. If I had to guess, you didn’t join the Marshals for the shiny jewelry.” He sat back. “Speaking of which, why doesn’t the CCPD know that there’s a meta stationed at the Central City Marshals’ office? I mean, I usually hear about it right away when there’s a new meta in our circles.”

“I’m a transfer from the Coast City office,” she said. “I started on Monday. I’m sure my superiors will get around to informing yours eventually.”

“Yep, sounds like the cordial and respectful working relationship that we law enforcement agencies all enjoy with each other,” he said.

She cracked a small smile and put her hand in her suit pocket, drawing out a metal case with the seal of the Marshals etched on the front. “Well,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I think we made a good team.” She pulled out a card and held it out. “If you wanted to stay in touch - ”

He took it, studying the front. Name, phone, email, all very official. “Maybe share information? Unofficially?”

She shuffled her feet.

He flipped the card over and found another phone number, and what looked like a personal email. His brows shot up.

She shut the case and put it away. Was she - blushing? “Or just - you know. Stay in touch.”

“I’d like that,” he said.

She smiled tentatively. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled back at her. “You’re right. We did make a good team.”

FINIS

[spectrumscribe]

Your Heart’s Desire

a very late submission to @tmntflashfic‘s valentine’s day prompt thing, since it got insanely long, and has to be broken up into parts.

Master Post of Chapters.

————————————————————————————- Chapter Two.

“Is this me?”

Casey twisted his head, looking away from the quick stir-fry he was working cooking on the stove. Raphael was shifting through his schoolwork on the table, and it looked like he’d found the gesture sketches.

“Uh, yeah? ‘s for my classes,” Casey explained, trying for nonchalance. He shoved the vegetables in the pan around a bit. “What do you think?”

Raphael was quiet for a moment, and Casey started to feel weirdly nervous about the demon seeing his artwork. Which was odd, because he never gave a shit about what anyone thought of his art.

It’d been a weird week, so he gave himself some slack on that front.

“…it’s good,” Raphael said eventually, still tracing the page with his eyes. “It’s not as good as a lot of other people’s, but you’re a relatively young human. I guess you have time to get better still.”

“Can you say something without insulting me?”

“No. Idiot.”

Casey huffed, and went back to making dinner.

He was grinning though.

“Asshole,” He said, adding some soy sauce to the pan.

“Right back at you,” Raphael replied without hesitation.

After dinner, they tried playing some games against each other. Casey chose Street Fighter, because he knew he was awesome at it, and felt like showing Raph up at something.

It didn’t go quite as he planned.

“How do you keep beating me?!” Casey exclaimed in dismay, watching the screen flash ‘Loser’ on his half of the divide yet again. “You’ve probably never even played a video game before!”

“Yeah I have, what do you think I do all day in my home dimension?” Raphael asked incredulously, lowering his video counsel. “Eat souls and torture sinners?”

“Uh, yeah??”

“Well you’re wrong. I only do that on Tuesdays.”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”

“Yes.”

“Raaaaaaaaph…”

“Best seven out of ten, then? If I win, I get three drops of your blood.”

Casey recoiled, flinching away from Raph. “Yo, what?!”

Raph gave him a look, like Casey was being the weird one here. “Spoils for winning, you know? Fairs fair and all that. Humans do betting too, why is this such a shock to you?”

“We don’t bet our blood!”

“You clearly don’t know much about your own history then.”

“Fucking- can’t we bet normal stuff?”

“This is normal where I come from.”

“Yeah and you come from hell, what’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re being a wimp.”

Casey narrowed his eyes. “Take that back.”

“If you win, you get something equal to three drops of human blood,” Raph said, leveling a look at Casey. “If I win, you already know what I want.”

“How much is my blood worth anyways?” Casey asked, suspicious of being gipped.

Raph shrugged. “A fair amount. Humans are good conduits for a lot of things. Why do you think we encouraged all those sacrifices over the centuries? You could conquer a dimension with enough of those.” Raph blinked. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Whatever. You want to bet or not?”

Raph stuck out his hand, short claws extended and a faint red pulse in the center of his palm.

Casey looked at the hand, weighing his options.

What April would do, or what teenage him would do; that was the question.

…eh, fuckit. Now he was curious.

Casey grabbed Raph’s hand. “Deal.”

Their joined hands felt hot, and Raph smiled a pointy grin.

"̢L̢et͠'͟s̷ ̵p͢ĺa̧y ̢t͞hen͢.͘"

Casey lost by two games, and ended up having to slit his finger tip with a kitchen knife.

It was honestly worth the loss, since Raph lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, and almost destroyed Casey’s living room- again- on his way out the balcony doors. Wings extended before he even made it out all the way, and tail lengthening and sweeping Casey’s CD rack onto the floor as he went.

Watching a demon power like some kind of anime character was a thing that Casey would probably never forget, and did not want to forget.

Casey was so sketching that when he got a chance. The process of Raph swiping the drops from his fingers with his tongue, and a bright green glow filling his eyes.

Casey followed outside soon as he could, and hauled ass up to the rooftop of his apartment to see Raph swooping through the air like a maniac. The demon’s laughter could be heard even down on the roof, booming through the air as he shot off red sparks.

That was with just three drops of blood, what would more do? That was the thought Casey had, watching Raph dive and glide at insane speeds.

He also had the thought, what would it be like to fly like that?

He didn’t get a chance to ask though, since Raph stopped circling the roof around then, and flew off into the distance. Casey watched him leave, and wondered if he’d be back. He hoped so. He still needed to chew Raph out for knocking his CD’s over, and challenge the demon to a rematch.

Casey realized a few minutes later, while he was smoking lazily on his couch and half watching a game re-run, that somewhere along the evening’s progression he’d started calling Raphael ‘Raph’ instead.

He stubbed out his cig in the ash tray, and didn’t linger on the thought.

Raph was back on Casey’s couch the next morning, halfway between forms and definitely crushing the springs.

“And where’d you get off to last night?” Casey asked, grabbing some sandwich meats out of the fridge for a morning sub. He was an adult; he made his own breakfast choices. “Terrorize any good villages?”

“Nah… none nearby,” Raph rumbled sleepily, stretching his wings with a huge yawn, and flopping back onto the couch. “Just went for a flight. Felt good, haven’t done it in a few days. Your fault by the way.”

“Hm. Yep.” Casey said without much sympathy. He finished fixing his sandwich, and took a huge bite.

“You’re working on the remembering thing again today. I still want to go home, and your break is officially over once you’re home from school.”

Casey mumbled a reply around his food, and went to put on his shoes while he kept eating. April wasn’t busing with him today, since she only had one seminar later in the day. She was probably up on the roof instead, tending to her plant hybrid experiments.

He glanced back at Raph as he picked up his bag by the door. The demon was asleep again, his dark limbs hanging off the couch since he was currently too big for it.

He really was like a huge, grumpy cat. Full of treats and sleeping it off, complete with the early morning sun shining on him.

Casey let out a huff of laughter, and shut the door quietly behind him.

“̶An̢ytḩi͢ng͠?̀”̧

“Nada. Sorry man, I really got nothing.”

Casey heard Raph’s tail whack against the railing again, and he opened his eyes. His legs felt crampy from sitting in lotus position, especially his left knee. It was supposed to help him ‘center his energy’, but Casey wasn’t feeling it.

He rubbed his smarting knee, trying to ease the old ache there. “Can I call it quits yet? I’m bored as fuck, dude.”

“̴You ̢t͏hin͢k ̛you’r̛e̕ ̨bore͜d̵?” Raph said, a sneer clear in his voice. “̸I’vè ͏bée͏n̶ s͘tuc̶k͠ ̡he͜ŗe͡ ̨f̴or͡ ͡ al̕mo̕s̴t a̸ whól̵e ẃe̕e̸k͞, ̢a͡nd͠ I͜’͡m͘ si͢c̡k of̴ i̸t̨.͘”̨

“Yeah, and I’ve been stuck with you for a whole week. So touché, buddy.”

"I̴ ͞f͞e̕e͢l lik̀e̴ ͡y͡ou̴'͘re u͢s͢ing͡ th͏at i̕nc̸orrect̡ly͏."

Casey shuffled himself in a circle, turning to look at the enormous demon chilling out on his apartment’s rooftop. “What do you know about linguistics?”

"Con͞s͝id͠er̀ing I've ͡b̀èęn a̴liv̢è ̴l͡o͝n͟ger̸ th͝an ̷yo̡u can ̕c̶om̕preh͢e͝nd͟,-” Raph said loftily, opening one lazy green eye at Casey. “-proba͜b̧l͠y̵ mór̀ę tha̴n̡ ͜yo̡u."̡

Casey glared at the demon, leaning on his palm. “Yeah, whatever, old man.”

Raph growled, opening his maw enough to flash his fangs. "Sh͞u͝t ͝up.  ̸A̶nd ̀f̡ine̷, you ͢c͠an ţake͢ a ̕b̢r̶eàk̨."̷

“You’re not the boss of me,” Casey said, just because he felt like it.

"́I̶n y͜o͝u̴r͞ o̡pin͘i̡ơn," Raph said, but there was a teasing tone to his voice.

Casey rolled his eyes, and stretched out his legs as the demon settled back into his half-nap. God damn was that a relief to feel.

As he bent over his legs, stretching slowly, he took a moment to look at the demon on his rooftop. Raph was comfortably stretched out himself, all scaly and everything.

The whole ‘invisible to mere mortals’ thing was pretty cool, since it let Raph chill in his full demon form without issue. His wings were opened and laid flat, and his hair crest going down the length of his spine and tail swayed gently in the early summer wind.

Casey noticed that with the sun on him, Raph’s scales weren’t black. They were just a very, very dark green.

He chuckled to himself, because that plus the red tips on his hair, Raph was technically Christmas colored. He’d make a sickass holiday symbol, especially if he was the one pulling the sleigh on Christmas Eve.

"͢What'́r̸e͞ y̵ǫu ̶l̛a̵u̕gh͘i͡ng ̛a̧t͟?" Raph asked without opening his eyes.

“Nothin’, nothin’… just something stupid.”

Casey was totally drawing that out, and slapping it onto any Christmas cards he made later that year. Probably all the ones following too.

"͞If it͟'͠s̶ ̸y̶o̸u,͡ it̨ prob̨abl͝y̢ ̧i̢s̢ so͠me̢t͟h̵in͞g s̴tupid.͏"

“Hey!”

“You’re very interested in this one subject lately, Casey,” His teacher said, examining the sketches he’d produced that day. She picked up the top paper, looking at the mid-transformation version of Raph. “I’m curious, what’s the source of your inspiration? You’ve improved greatly in just the last week.”

Casey shrugged. He hadn’t noticed he was improving; he’d just been going at it without much thought. It was how he always did his work. “Got a cat, and I guess he’s been influencing my mood.”

His teacher raised her eyebrow. “Interesting interpretation of a cat.”

“Hey, art is subjective ain’t it?”

She chuckled, grinning fondly. “I suppose so. Keep up the good work; I’m excited to see your mid-term project.”

“Heh, me too. Dunno what I’m gonna do with it yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Okay, the meditation thing isn’t working, so we’re trying something new,” Casey chucked a stick at Raph, and grinned. “Like some street hockey.”

Raph looked at the old hockey stick Casey had tossed at him, and then looked at Casey. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s when I do my best thinking.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it. Who knows, maybe me squaring off with you without punching will make somethin’ come back to me.”

“Yeah let’s hope so. I’m seriously ready to go home.”

Casey bounced the hard rubber ball on the ground, and caught it on the tip of his stick. “You ready to play or not?”

Raph’s tail swished around his feet, and he rolled his shoulders. “This is kid’s shit. I used to play the better version of this. It had fire involved.”

“Yoooooo… fire hockey’s a thing?”

“Yup. I don’t know why you humans eliminated it. It was probably the best game you’d made in centuries.”

“Okay-” Casey pointed a finger at Raph. “-we are so trying that some time, because that sounds like the sickest shit ever. Right now though? We’re doing the street version. Fire hockey can be later.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll try not to burn you too badly when we do.”

“You can fuckin’ try, little man.”

“I think I will, stultas mortalium.”

“I don’t know what that means but fuck you.”

And with that, Casey flipped the ball into the air, and slapped it towards Raph.

The low traffic in Casey’s neighborhood was one of his favorite things about it, since it meant he could spend hours in the alley without worrying about cars. He hadn’t had a chance to play against someone on level with him in a long while- April only played sometimes, and none of Casey’s art buddies were much for sports- so facing off with Raph was refreshing.

Casey laughed in surprised every time Raph bent and dodged in a physically impossible way. The demon’s body hinged differently than a human’s, evident as he darted around the alley.

For such a stocky guy, Raph moved pretty quickly. Casey was built for speed, so he kept up easily, but damn could the guy move. Maybe it had to do with the tail, which likely helped Raph balance himself faster on the go, but Casey didn’t stop to consider that too much.

Anatomy examination later, hockey now, was his thought process.

Casey had better reach, because his arms were way longer than Raph’s, and he used that his advantage as best he could. He got a couple goals in on Raph like that, slamming the ball home between the trash cans they’d set up. Raph retaliated by using his suddenly there wings to give him a boost, and claimed an equal number of goals on Casey.

In all the rush and adrenaline, Casey forgot to watch himself.

He was too distracted, complete tunnel-vision around Raph’s fast moving form, and he mis-stepped at the wrong moment. A too sharp turn, and he pivoted on his left leg incorrectly.

Casey felt his knee lock up with a sharp pain, and he buckled before he could stop himself.

“Casey- hey Casey! Shit, you alright?”

Casey hissed between his teeth, hands tight around his throbbing joint. “Fuck- no, no I’m- fucking- god, I should have been more careful. Fuck. Fuck that hurts a lot.”

Two strong hands grabbed him by the armpits, and hauled him to his feet. Raph’s arm went under his, and Casey was suddenly being supported by an oddly concerned demon.

“What the hell was that?” Raph asked in a serious tone. “I didn’t even tap you.”

“Old injury, just get me to the step. I gotta stretch it out before it gets too stuck,” Casey said, wincing as he tried to put weight on his leg joint. Nope, hurt too much still. “Ah fuck. I’m gonna have to call it, I’m not walking on this the rest of the night.”

“How’d you hurt yourself like that? Don’t you humans have medicine to fix any injury these days?” Raph asked lowering Casey onto the back steps of the apartment complex.

“Hngh, not quite,” Casey said, easing his twinging muscles. He put his thumbs on either side of his knee, and started massaging. “I got badly fucked up in my knee joint when I was a kid. Well, not a kid. I was seventeen-ish. I got surgery right after, but it wasn’t enough to get me back on the ice.”

“What do you mean?” Raph asked, sitting down next to Casey. His tail brushed against Casey’s leg, starting to coil loosely around it, before Raph twitched it away again.

Casey watched the tail for a moment, and then refocused on his knee. He sighed heavily, trudging frustrations back up old. “All I ever wanted was to play pro. Be one of the greats and all that. I had talent too, which was part of why I was so damn driven. I knew I could do it if I really put my mind to it. I was even lined up for a full scholarship before… before the accident happened.”

Raph was still listening silently, so Casey continued. “I got sidelined by an oncoming car. The driver wasn’t even drunk or anything; he just didn’t see me crossin’ the street. Fucked my knee but good. Doctors told me straight up I wouldn’t be able to go professional, even once I got back on my feet. It was… it was hard, man. I’d bet a lot of shit on my career as a hockey player, and then it was gone-” Casey snapped his fingers. “-just like that. I lost my scholarship, and had to settle for takin’ out student loans for my new majors.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that happened,” Raph said. “It sounds like it was hard.”

Casey shrugged, a little weirded out by the genuine sympathy in the demon’s voice. “I got over it. Switched career paths to future freelance artist, and here we are. It’s not exactly what I dreamed of as a kid, but I like my life okay enough. Always loved fucking around in art class, so it wasn’t too bad of a switch.”

He was downplaying it. It’d been horrible the first year, going through physical therapy and coming to terms that everything he’d ever wanted just wasn’t going to happen. It’d sucked like nothing else, and Casey had been pretty much the picture of misery- until his sister shoved his sketchpad into his hands, and told him to stop being a mopey idiot.

Bless her; he should call her more often.

A magic rune circle suddenly popped up in front of him, and Casey blinked the flashes of light out of his sight as it disappeared just as quick. He looked questioningly at Raph, and the demon shrugged.

“Was just checking if that’s what you’d wanted when you summoned me,” Raph said, not looking directly at Casey. “Figured your sob story sounded like enough of a desire, you’d give even your soul for it.”

“But it’s not?” Casey asked, putting a hand on his chest where the circle had been.

“No, sorry,” Raph said, sounding like he meant it.

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault I didn’t take the chance when I had it,” Casey said, forcing nonchalance into his voice. He would not be disappointed, he would not be disappointed- he’d gotten over that stuff years ago. Life was what it was, and there wasn’t any going back. Not even for that. “Think you could help me inside? I got some painkillers in the kitchen.”

“Sure.”

As Raph slung Casey arm over his broad shoulders, Casey had an idea.

“Wait, how about we try…”

A moment later, he was shooting up the four stories to his apartment balcony, carried by his demonic house guest. Casey whooped loudly- loud enough it scattered the pigeon family that’d started roosting on the rooftop.

April poked her head out her doors as they landed, and she barely raised an eyebrow at the wings Raph had. She looked instead at how Casey was watching his leg, and how Raph was still holding him up. “You hurt your leg again?”

“Ha, yup. Got too excited.”

“You should be more careful, or you’ll have a cane before you’re forty,” She said, shaking her head in admonishment.

“Careful is for when I’m old,” Casey joked.

“I don’t think ‘careful’ is actually in your vocabulary,” April said dryly, gesturing at the demon assisting Casey still. “Case and point with your current roommate.”

“She’s got you there,” Raph agreed.

“Hey, no ganging up on me you two. I’m out numbered here.”

Casey ended up taking it easy the rest of the evening, leg propped on a pillow on the coffee table. Raph was even kind enough to share the couch- which he’d claimed as his own lately- and leave enough space for Casey to be comfortable.

He fell asleep without noticing, his pain meds making him drowsy, and jerked awake when someone tapped him on the forehead.

April loomed over him, her eyes a little too wide and her hair in disarray.

Casey didn’t even blink at her random appearance; he was used to that by now. He glanced instead at the clock, and realized it was insanely late. He rubbed his eyes, yawning as he did. “Je-sus April, what’re you doing in my apartment at three in the morning?”

“All-nighter,” April said in a flat tone, giving away just how long she’d been awake. “I need some of the plants I gave you.”

“Wha’ for?” Casey asked, still mostly asleep.

“Science.”

“Of course. You know where they are,” He gestured towards the tiny apartment around them. “Just take what you need. If they come back half a carnivorous species, just make sure you gimme instructions on how to feed them.”

“It’s bioluminescence this time,” April corrected absently, already moving in on Casey’s plants.

“Oh. Cool. Send pics of the results.”

“Will do,” April muttered, examining one of the small potted plants in her hands.

Casey yawned again, and turned his head as he remembered he wasn’t the only one on the couch.

Raph’s usually terse expression was absent, his features calm and resting. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, rising steadily as he breathed slow and deep. One of his horns was poking a hole into the cushion, but Casey figured some sausages in the morning would fix that.

Casey traced the strong jaw Raph had, as well as the skin he showed down his neck and shoulders. How the guy never got cold, wearing nothing but black jeans and red tank top all the time, Casey couldn’t tell. Maybe it was all that muscle and fire breath.

“I’m surprised you two are getting along so well, all of a sudden,” April commented, reappearing with four of Casey’s plants in her arms. She looked down at him, her eyes bright with sleeplessness and caffeine. “You were at each other’s throats just a few days ago, and now you’re playing footsies.”

Casey blinked, and realized his and Raph’s feet were touching on the small coffee table. Casey took his feet off the table, and started to stand up. “We’re just figuring shit out is all, nothin’ weird about that.”

“I didn’t say it was,” April said, eyeing Casey as he struggled to put pressure on his knee again. “You did though. Hm.”

“Don’t ‘hm’ me, April,” Casey said, shooting her a look. “You’re probably running on two energy drinks and seven hours of sleep to twenty-four awake. You don’t exactly think clearly like this.”

“No, of course not,” April said, an innocent smile gracing her features. “I know nothing about nothing. Go to bed Casey, I’m sure you two have a busy day tomorrow.”

“You get weird without sleep, April,” Casey said, choosing to ignore April’s insinuations.

“Don’t we all,” April tittered- actually tittered- as she headed for the still open door into Casey’s home. She pulled it shut with the toes of her bare feet, and disappeared as quietly as she appeared. The door somehow swinging shut without a sound.

Casey shook his head, and hobbled off to bed.

And April called him weird. Demon guest notwithstanding, Casey was probably closer to normal than she was, even if she pretended otherwise.

Casey vaguely noted, as the days piled up, he got… comfortable, having his new roommate around.

Raph was still an asshole- but then again, Casey could be just as. It worked out.

They still tried at figuring out how to send Raph home, but… there wasn’t as much fervor as there used to be.

Casey didn’t question it, and didn’t bring it up. If he were honest- which he wouldn’t be- he didn’t quite want Raph to leave anymore.

Sure the guy still ate like no tomorrow, bitched about everything he could, and caused a general nuisance- but he was completely chill when he wasn’t doing all that.

Turned out Raph liked to sketch too, and traded Casey a flight in the sky for a pad and pencils. Best trade ever, in Casey’s opinion. He’d never been that high up, excluding the one flight from New York to his university.

Raph had gone up to the roof with him, changed into his full form, and let Casey climb onto his back. Casey was instructed to hold onto Raph’s stiff crest, and to not let go.

Then they’d shot up into the air, and Casey had screamed with everything he had.

It was incredible.

He could barely see at first, they’d been going so fast, but some magical trick of Raph’s fixed that. He managed to convince Raph to stay up in the air until Casey’s arms and legs were sore from tensing, and it was worth every ache later in the evening.

He ended up sketching the flowing way Raph could fly, once he was up in the air, while Raph sat across him on the couch and sketched… whatever he’d sketched. He wouldn’t show Casey it at all. Casey returned the favor, and kept his drawings to himself.

Raph started showing at his school again, but minus the destruction of property and ninja sneak attacks. Mostly, he avoided campus security, and strolled in and out of Casey’s free-study periods without care if Casey was working or not.

Casey’s classmates gave him questioning looks, and actually spoken questions, about the tank top guy who kept dropping by. Casey kept things vague.

“He’s just a guy I know,” He said, the fifth time someone asked.

“A guy who stops by every second period?” His easel buddy questioned incredulously.

“Yes,” Casey said shortly, then popping on his headphones so he didn’t have to answer any more queries.

Raph would also come and steal bits of Casey’s lunches- and April’s, when he could get away with it without injury by plastic cutlery. April wielded a mean fork, and an even meaner spork.

His two friends interacted with a dynamic of sniping and blunt questions, which was way too hilarious to watch as they tried to out smarm each other within a forty-five minute period.

When Raph had gone from ‘unwanted houseguest’ to ‘friend’, Casey couldn’t tell. He didn’t linger on that thought, same as all the other thoughts he wasn’t lingering on.

Casey started working on his mid-term project, finally laying down the sketched groundwork for it.

He pushed it to the very back of the studio, and put a sheet over it when he wasn’t there.

Casey had originally been used to only one person invading his home space- April- but he’d somehow adjusted quickly to having two. One of them being a constant presence, excluding when he disappeared for solo flights.

It was comfortable. Casey kind of really liked it, having company like Raph’s.

When he wasn’t trying to be a deliberate asshole, or setting something or someone on fire, he was fairly cool to hang around. Games, sketching, sometimes cooking if Casey could convince Raph to flash-fry things with his magic… it was fun. A lot of fun.

Casey avoided thoughts about Raph leaving, and started to only reluctantly work on remembering why he’d summoned him. He did it still, if only to keep the dynamic they had going, and because he felt a bit bad for trapping Raph on his plain of existence.

Raph wasn’t complaining a ton anymore though, so maybe he’d adjusted?

Casey didn’t mention that fact. He didn’t want to bring it to the demon’s attention, if it’d slipped by.

Things stayed pretty calm, until he came home after school about two and a half weeks into Raph’s stay, and found the demon hunched over something on the carpet.

Casey dropped his bag in horror, as he realized… there were shredded plants everywhere on his carpet.

“Oh… no, no no no- shit!” Casey grabbed at his hair, starting to panic. “Raph, please tell me you didn’t demolish April’s new plants. Please tell me you didn’t!”

Raph’s tail lashed across the floor, sweeping more torn leaves around. Casey noticed it was weirdly puffy in places, but he ignored it as he started to march towards Raph. “Dude, seriously. Do you know how fricking important those were to her projects? She’s going to kill us for this-”

Casey bit off the rest of his words, as Raph’s head whipped around, and Casey got a look at the demon’s eyes.

His sclera was still white, but his pupils were blown completely wide. His usually green eyes looked black.

Casey raised his hands defensively, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. “Whoooooa- okay. Okay. The fuck’s with you?”

Raph’s only response was a low growl, and another tail lash.

Casey stepped backwards from the crouching demon, hands still raised. Maybe it was time to go and find April’s water gun. “Yeah… uh, I’m just gonna go. You can keep those plants if you like. Um. April will just need to talk to you la-AH FUCK-!”

Raph suddenly bounded towards him, and Casey tried to turn tail and run- but a solid mass of muscle landed on his back, and his chin met the floor.

Sharp nails prickled his back, and Casey ineffectively tried to scramble out from under Raph’s weight. Casey may or may not have shrieked, as a rolling growl emanated from the chest pressed against him, and the size of the hands holding him increased.

Casey was halfway out of his head with panic- because holy shit how did he forget that Raph could totally kill him at any time- when something raspy and wet went up the back of his neck.

Casey shrieked as the sensation repeated itself.

“What the FUCK Raph-?!”  Casey yelled, cut off again as Raph’s tongue slid over his hair, and his words turned into another scream.

Casey struggled a few more times, but ultimately resigned himself to being groomed by the giant, stupid cat demon sitting on him. “You know what? I changed my mind about you being an okay guy. Fuck you.”

Raph’s only response was something that was almost definitely a purr.

Casey’s scalp was drenched by the time he remembered his keyset in his pocket.

Giant cat, fucking duh, he knew how to get the idiot off his literal back.

Casey ignored the way his arm hurt, wedging it between Raph’s scaly chest and the floor, and poked around in his pockets for his keys.

Soon as he had them, he tugged them free, and turned on the pen laser.

Raph’s grooming stopped, and then his weight vanished in a puff of smoke.

Casey scrambled onto his feet, shuddering at the cold feeling his wet hair gave him, and looked at the now mostly human Raph. The demon was staring intently at where the red dot had disappeared, tail lashing on the floor.

Casey looked at the laser in his hands, then back at Raph.

If he were someone else, this would be the time to duck and run.

He was not someone else.

Casey switched on the penlight again.

April kicked in his door the thirtieth time the walls shook, and she looked down right murderous.

“Casey. Fucking. Jones.” She growled through her teeth, stalking into the room. “I don’t know if you know this, but that is the wall we share, and I am trying to study right now, and-” She stopped, and zeroed in on the decimated plant life on the floor. “Are those my plants? Casey.”

Casey shied away from his neighbor’s fury, grinning sheepishly. "I’m sorry, I know, but watch this."

He whisked the penlight across the room, and Raph went flying into the wall following it. The resounding thump shook the wall and left a sizable dent, but Casey personally felt it was worth it.

“See? See??” Casey said, gesturing at the dazed demon. “He’s high as a kite and it’s fucking hilarious.”

April looked at Raph- pupils still blown wide and how he was all around puffy- and then back at Casey, who was trying to seem as innocent as possible. She didn’t look impressed.

“Okay in my defense- he was like this when I got here. I had nothing to do with the plants.”

“Sure.”

“Seriously! I was totally going to come and find you, but you see this shit? I couldn’t just- just not do this, I mean come on. How many chances am I going to-”

Casey shrieked as Raph jumped on his back again, and April watched passively as the demon held Casey to the floor.

“Okay, now this?” She said, cracking a smile as Raph started purring again. “This is hilarious.”

Casey stretched his arm out for the penlight, and fell short by an inch. “April- April help, he’s going to start- AUGH FUCK- SEE?! HE’S GROOMING ME.”

“I’m seeing alright,” April said, still not helping Casey.

“Apriiiiiiiiiil…”

“You made your grave, lay in it with dignity,” April said unsympathetically as Raph’s heavy weight crushed Casey’s lungs.

“Help me!”

“Mmm… no thanks,” April said, reaching into her jeans pocket.

“Are- are you getting out your phone?”

“Yes I am.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Say cheese, Casey,” April grinned, turning the camera on him and the demon on his back.

“You know what, fuck you too, April,” Casey said grumpily, flipping the camera and his friend off. “You’re both horrible people and I’m never trusting either of you again.”

“Technically, the demon currently grooming you like a kitten isn’t a people.”

“Fuck off.”

“Not until I’m finished with some blackmail.”

“Fuck oooooooff.”

April only laughed at his position on the floor, and Raph’s rumbling purr said exactly what he thought of the situation.

“You wouldn’t let me off the floor for a whole hour.”

“Shut up!”

“A whole. Hour.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Sorry doesn’t change what happened!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you! April has blackmail on us now!”

Raph’s reply made the lights flicker, and the remaining plants in Casey’s apartment die.

Casey pointed a finger at him. “Okay, just because you’re being pissy, doesn’t mean you do black magic in the apartment.”

“It’s not black magic!” Raph exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You humans invented that idea! Magic is magic! There’s no black or white or grey anything!”

“That sounds fake but okay.”

Raph hissed, and kicked the coffee table.

“I said leave off the coffee table!”

“Fuck you!”

April sent them both the video later that evening- for the third time, because she was cruel and heartless- and Casey and Raph couldn’t even watch the thing. Casey had honestly never been more mortified, and it was a hard thing to mortify him. Raph didn’t look any better off.

Raph had grabbed Casey’s phone, deleted the link, and looked him dead in the eye as he did. “We never speak of this to my family. We never speak of this again at all.”

“I don’t know who your family is, but agreed,” Casey said solemnly.

“And let’s hope you never do,” Raph said in a low tone, shoving the phone back at Casey and stomping out the balcony doors. He took off without a look back, and Casey didn’t blame him. There was a lot of space needed at the moment, and Casey completely welcomed it.

He went and took a long, long shower, and tried to erase from his mind the feeling of Raph’s tongue against his skin.

His mind drifted back to that one too many times though, and he had to switch to a cold shower halfway through.

His face felt like it was burning anyways.

Casey texted April when he got out of the shower, in an attempt to distract himself.

 youre evil, woman

EVIL

 You wrecked my plants, and hilarious after effects or not, you deserved what you got for it.

Who knew certain herbs could do that to a demon.

I may have to write this down.

 dude fuck you

 No thanks.

 delete the video

 Nope.

I made copies already, too.

Scientific evidence.

 E V I L

EEEEEEVIIIIIIIL

 So how did it feel to get completely dominated, Casey?

How was the tongue?

 FUCKING BYE

WHY AM I FRIENDS WITH YOU

 Because you like strong figures, both physically and mentally, to be in your life.

Hint hint.

 IM DELETING YOUR CONTACT BYE APRIL

 Goodnight, Casey.

Sinful dreams.

Whoops, I meant ‘sweet’.

Or did I?

 I HATE YOU LITERALLY SO MUCH

FUCK YOU APRIL

FUCK YOU

 Casey threw his phone into the corner of his laundry pile with a burning face, and vowed to never speak to April again.

Raph wouldn’t make eye contact with Casey for another day, and honestly? Casey could barely look at the guy himself. Space was very welcome at the moment.

Casey woke up to a fixed apartment though- dents and holes and claws scratches all gone- and figured that was enough of a peace treaty to warrant burying the embarrassing hatchet.

continued.

[lisamccormack-blog1]

Observing the Everyday

I’ve never drawn a houseplant.

Despite having several that litter my house, I have never drawn one. My housemate Kez witnessed the observation that I had one morning whilst he was sipping at his cup of coffee and I was sipping mine.

He enquired as to why. I was dumbfounded. I mulled over this question for the next few minutes until Kez picked up the black permanent marker pen that resides on our counter and began to sketch the scenario on the neighbouring white napkin.

Within a short space of time, he had managed to spontaneously do something I had not managed in nineteen years of living.

Reminiscent of the Latin aphorism carpe diem, which is usually translated "seize the day"; taken from book 1 of the Roman poet Horace's work Odes (23 BC).  

I interpret the ode to mean that future is unknown; therefore one should not leave future affairs to chance. Instead we should do all we can today to improve our future. 

The theory of memento mori (remember that you are mortal) is brought to my mind, as the mindfulness of our own mortality is key in making us realize the importance of the moment. Over time memento mori became associated with penitence, as suggested in many vanitas paintings, these pieces were designed to remind the viewers of the shortness and fragility of human life. 

Whilst these sentiments are steeped in history they are just as relevant today.  In the early 21st century, the acronym "YOLO" became a staple of music and youth culture.

Drake popularized the acronym in 2011 with his mixtape titled YOLO, elevating the word into common colloquial use.  By 2012 Drake hoped to acquire royalties for the use of “YOLO” as there was a vast quantity of merchandise using the phrase, from frozen yogurt to key rings.

Online media including The Washington Post and The Huffington Post described YOLO as the "newest acronym you'll love to hate" and "dumb". Often used in conjunction with careless behaviour the word was most heavily criticized in response to a Twitter post by Ervin McKinness shortly before his death: "Drunk af going 120 drifting corners #FuckIt YOLO."

On January 19, 2014, at Saturday Night Live, Drake apologized for culture's adoption of the phrase, saying he had no idea it would become so big.

The napkin is now taped to our living room wall.

It serves as a constant reminder of how I must put very little trust in tomorrow. 

I’ve still never drawn a houseplant.

 Harrison, S. J. (2012). The Cambridge companion to Horace. Cam Press. pp. 154, 168. ISBN 978-0-521-83002-7.

Jacks, Lorra "The 5 Most Frequently Misused Proverbs". Cracked.com.

"Drake Won't Name Rick Ross Mixtape "YOLO," Calls Phrase "Epidemic"". Fuse. 

Diep, Eric. "Drake Wants Royalties for "YOLO"". XXL Magazine. 

Burns, Ashley. "We Have Some Bad News For Drake Regarding The YOLO Wars". Uproxx.com.

Judkis, Maura. "#YOLO: The Newest Acronym You'll Love to Hate". Washington Post Style Blog.

Walsh, Megan. "YOLO: The Evolution of the Acronym". Huffington Post.

Lupkin, Sydney. "Young Adults Tweet #YOLO When They Don't Study, Get Drunk or Drive Too Fast". ABC News. Retrieved December 29, 2012.

[something-tofightfor]

He’s Not Here - Part 12

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 5900 (YIKES.)

Rating: NSFW. steamy. zesty. i can’t help myself and neither can Billy. 

Author’s Note: I don’t own Billy’s character. I’m just writing this for fun.

Parts 1-11 can be found on my Masterlist (link in bio)!

Summary:  Billy’s looking toward the future, and he wants your help... which you’re more than happy to give. 

** 15 months out from the events of  DD S2 **

Tagging: If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

@banditthewriter @breanime @obscurilicious @padfootagain @madamrogersstorytelling @ooo-barff-ooo @agent-bossypants @suchatinyinfinity @chibiyanai @songtoyou @doneobrien @ilkaeliseb @editboutique @marauderskeeper @delicatelilyflower @drinix @likethetailofacomet @king4thesirens @ymariejp @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @ethereal-heavcns @mr-robot-x @rageshots @shinebrightlikeafanbase @zaffrenotes @audreychaz @jovialyouthmusic @yesixoxo @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme 

One month after the auction; 10 weeks post deployment

Knocking on the door as you turned the knob, you entered Billy’s apartment  carrying takeout bags in one hand. “I’m here, Russo.” The door shut behind you and you turned your head at his reply, finding him hunched over at the dining room table, a stack of papers in front of him and his laptop open next to it. “What are you doing?” He didn’t even look up as you walked the few feet from the door to the small alcove, setting the bags - and your purse - down  on the clean half of the table before taking the few extra steps toward Billy.

 “C’mere.” He finally looked up, sitting back in the chair and opening his arms, inviting you to sit down on his lap. “I wanna show you something.” You lowered yourself sideways onto his thighs without pause, hooking an arm around his shoulders as you leaned in to kiss him. His arms went around your waist and you crossed your legs at the knees, reaching your free hand up to rest it on his chest as you stared into his eyes. Warm. Alert. He’s Billy today. “Have a good day at work?” His voice was quiet and you nodded, forehead touching his. “Good.” He kissed you again, quickly and then pulled back. “Remember how I said I wanted to do something when I got out?” Of the military, yes I remember. “This is… the first step.” You turned to look at the table, eyes drawn to the computer at first where a webpage on small business loans was open, along with tabs reading “private security”, “continued military-style training” and “commercial real estate rentals in New York City”. Your eyes moved to the table where the papers were, and you widened your eyes as you saw that they were application forms along with copies of Billy’s military file and personal records.

 “You’re really doing this, Billy?” He nodded his head, removing one hand from your waist and reached out, clicking over to the real estate page scrolling through the listings, all of which were for large, open spaces. He’s looking to convert a warehouse.

 “Mostly, I’m just trying to get an idea of what… well, I guess of what is available, and how much I’d even need.” He sighed. “It’d be a lot of money, but I’ve got some savings, and I want… my idea would... “ He paused. “I don’t wanna keep going over there to fight for other people because it’s what they tell me to do. I want to do something that means something for someone. Does that even make sense?” You thought about it, bringing the hand that was on Billy’s shoulders up to run your fingers through his hair.

 “It does.” You nodded, eyes scanning the screen. “You’d need a warehouse, right? You want to open a…”

 “Training facility, plus a tactical building. I’d need somewhere for simulations, too…” He sighed. “I want to be a leader, someone that people look up to. I know what it’s like to feel alone and abandoned and like I’m floundering.” His voice caught and you heard some vulnerability in it - one of the few times that it had ever been that way . “People have to have something to believe in, you know? And I’ve learned that the only thing I can believe in is myself, so…” Oh, Billy. You tore your eyes away from the screen and looked back at him, wrapping your free arm around him and hugging him tightly.

 “I believe in you, Billy.” Your lips were against the side of his face and you felt his beard beneath them as you spoke. “This is perfect.” He’s going to open this company, and he’ll have a reason to stay in New York for good, and he won’t have to leave, and… “You’re going to help so many people.” He took a deep breath as you pulled back, looking down at him. His eyes were wide and still worried, but be looked less lost. “Where do you start?” He shook his head.

 “I donno. I know what I want to do with it, but not… how to get there.” Thinking carefully, you gestured to the table.

 “Do you have a meeting scheduled or...?” Billy shook his head.

 “No, I’m just filling out things and once I have a -”

 “Ok, so you need to have a proposal. You need to come up with a plan and an outline and something to show the people at the bank.” He nodded, a look of realization crossing his face. “The more you present - the more you can show them that you’re serious and have a plan for the money they’re going to give you, the better it will look.” This is what I do, it’s logical, it’s…

 “Will you help me?” Billy sounded unsure. “I know you have a lot going on, but…” He licked his lips. “You’re better at this shit than I am, and I can tell you my ideas, but... “ He shook his head. “You can bring them to life.” Though your face remained neutral, you were shocked. He wants to involve me in this? That means that he wants to keep me around.

 “Billy, I would be more than happy to help you.” He smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll come up with the proposal for you if you tell me what you’re looking for, and sketch some things out if you need me to.” He sighed, visibly relaxing. “But can we eat first? I’m starving.” With a laugh, Billy pushed you away gently and you stood, reaching for the food you’d brought.

 “Yeah, yeah. We can talk about Anvil later.” Oh, Anvil? But that’s our…

 “You’ve already got a name for this business, Billy?” He nodded, smirking as he closed the laptop and picked up the papers, piling them on top of it.

 “I do.” With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Billy looked you up and down. “Not just gonna be our safeword anymore, you know?” You blushed and Billy laughed. “So, what’d you bring for dinner?”

 ---

 Two weeks later, Billy had finished preparing for the first meeting with his potential lender. You’d gone over his speech and his pitch, had helped him organize all of the necessary information into his folders and a binder and had reassured him that even if he felt nervous, he was as prepared as he could possibly be. “What if they turn me down?” You and Billy had been lying in his bed,  arms and legs tangled together when he’d asked, and although the question had caught you off guard, you answered immediately.

 “Then they say no, and you look elsewhere. You still have time, Billy. This isn’t going to happen overnight.” You paused. “It’s a good pitch, Billy. We - you - covered everything.” He took a deep breath and turned his head to face you, deep brown eyes filled with longing.

 “I just want to be successful, you know? I want people to look at me and see what I’m capable of, what I’ve built for myself.” You nodded. “I had nothing, but with this, I could have something, be something, even. Think about the money.” It’s not about that, Billy, it’s… “I want to take care of myself. I want to take care of you and give you the best.” What? He saw the look on your face and he smiled briefly, one hand reaching over to touch your lips, his thumb pressing down before he removed it, his hand resting on your shoulder. “You’ve known me for about a year and a half, right?” You nodded. “Even before we were together, I knew that I felt… differently about you.” He frowned. “I wanted to… I still want to do nice things for you, and I can’t do that without money.” I don’t need your money, Billy, I just need - “When this company is reality, we can… I don’t know, we’ll live in a penthouse and I’ll be driving some obnoxiously expensive car, and you won’t be getting stupid pendants from me, you’ll be in platinum.” Stupid? Is that what he thinks it is?

 “I don’t want your money, Billy.” Your voice was much sharper than you intended it to be. “I don’t need you to spend money on me like that, is that what you think I’m after?” His eyes widened. “I’m not here with you right now because I’m hoping that one day you’ll be able to buy me a ton of shit, I’m here because I -” You stopped yourself just in time. Oh fuck. “I’m… Because I want to be with you.” You pushed away from him, sitting up and crossing your arms over your chest. “I heard you, Billy. That night, when I asked you about your fantasy?” His eyes widened. “I fucking want you, Billy. I care about you as you are now, I don’t fucking care about the hypothetical things you can give me in this hypothetical future of yours.” You were overly angry, and maybe it was too much, but you couldn’t stop. “You want to give me the best?” He nodded twice, his eyes still wide. “Then just give me you, Billy. Nothing else.” You climbed out of bed, further away from Billy and began getting dressed, pulling a shirt - his shirt - on.

 “Where are you going?” You shook your head as you pulled a pair of pants up over your thighs. You swallowed and found that there was a lump in your throat. Running out of time, I have to say this now.

 “You said you wanted someone to… care for you because of what you are and not what you could give them.” You stood next to the bed, one finger jabbing at your own chest. “I’m that person. And if you haven’t figured that out yet, then… maybe…” You shook your head, both hands dropping to your sides as he stared at you, silently from where he was laying. “I don’t know what else I can do, Billy. I don’t know what else to say.” Defeated, you turned away from his bed, headed for the door. One hand on the knob, you stopped, looking down at your feet. “You want success? That’s fine. You want to make a name for yourself? That’s fine too. I get it.” There was a tremor in your voice as you spoke. “But don’t lump me in with that shit, Billy. I don’t need any of it to know how I feel about you.” Stop. Stop now. It’s too soon, he’ll run. “I just need you.” Finally spent, you started to pull the door open but it slammed shut, and you felt Billy pressed up against you from behind, his right hand flat on the door.

 His body was against yours but he wasn’t touching you with his free hand, and because your head had been hanging down, you could see his feet, bare against the carpet, spread a little bit apart. “ That’s… not what I said.” His voice was low, and there was an unsure note to it that you had never heard before from him, not even when he’d been telling you about the girl at the group home. “I said that my fantasy was someone being capable of loving me for what I am.” He paused. “Loving, not caring.” He leaned in, his breath hot on the side of your face. “Do you?” You froze. “D’you love me?” The words were even quieter as he continued. “How could you? No one else ever has.” He stepped back abruptly as you remained quiet, eyes still on the floor. If I tell him I love him now, it won’t… he won’t…

 “Billy.” You turned, looking back toward the bed where Billy was seated on the edge, his long legs pale against the sheets, hands clasped together between his knees. He was staring at the floor, his hair hanging messily over his eyes as one leg bounced up and down quickly. “Billy, look at me.” You stepped back over to him and watched as he slowly raised his head, eyes on you. This is killing him, being so vulnerable. You knelt in front of him, reaching out to touch his hands, but he pulled them away from you, shaking his head.

 “Get off the floor, you don’t need to be down there, come on.” There was some strength in his voice but it was still quiet. You stood, moving to sit next to him and covered his hands with one of yours, shoulder to shoulder. “I want what I never had.” I know. “I want to give someone what I never got.” Oh, Billy. I know that too. “How could anyone want me otherwise?” He turned to look at you, his eyes not leaving your face. “Why do you want me now? I’m no different than I was then.” You’d known that Billy had a troubled childhood, and had heard bits and pieces of it from him, and from Frank. You knew that his mother had abandoned him and that because of it, he’d thought himself unworthy of lasting affection as he was. But what you hadn’t known was that Billy’s deepest fear was that he was entirely alone in the world, and that without being successful, he’d never change that. He wanted someone to want him for who he was and not what, but didn’t think that anyone would care unless he became something else. Your heart had broken for Billy time and time again, but this time was different. “I care about you so much, you’ve gotta know that.”

 “I know, Billy. I -” You shook your head, leaning against him. “I know you do. But you… it’s not about the money or the status or the future. It’s about right now.” You felt him take in a deep breath, his body tensing next to you. I love you. “I care about you so much, you don’t even…” Your head dropped onto his shoulder and he unlaced his fingers, putting an arm around you, his fingertips digging into the muscle of your arm. I love you, Billy. I love you.

 “Don’t go. Please stay. I’m sorry that I… I know you don’t need that shit, but it’s so hard to separate you from everyone else that’s just wanted to take from me.” Ouch. He felt you tense. “Goddammit. I don’t mean like that, I mean…” Cut him some slack. “Stay, please. I don’t want you to go.” I can’t leave him. You nodded, and Billy removed his arm, allowing you to stand. You removed the clothing that you’d just put back on, climbing into the bed and Billy followed suit, pulling you into his arms as he kissed you on the forehead. “I’m nervous about the meeting with the lenders.” Of course you are. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” As you laid there with him, you realized that Billy hadn’t made you answer his question from earlier - which either meant that he knew (or thought he knew) the answer… or he regretted asking because he didn’t want the truth.

 ---

 The next day went by quickly for you, and at 2:45 - fifteen minutes before Billy’s meeting with the bank - you sent him a text message. ‘Knock ‘em dead, Russo. You’ve got this.’ There wasn’t a response right away, but when the message finally came through, you sighed deeply, your heart pounding. The message was short - ‘if you say so’ - , but it was the picture attached that got to you. It was an image of Billy from the shoulders up; his hair slicked back, an easy smile on his face. You could see a jacket collar and a dress shirt peeking up from the bottom of the picture, and his eyes were clear and focused.  Seconds later, another message came through. ‘How do I look?’  You bit your lower lip, saving the image before responding. ‘Like a you could take on the world, Billy.’  You couldn’t wait to celebrate with him later.

 He’d updated you around 4:30 that the meeting had gone well, with Billy leaving a copy of his proposal with the lender along with the proper paperwork - all filled out correctly and ready to be filed - and so you’d gone ahead and made reservations at an upscale steakhouse as a surprise. While the two of you sat at the table waiting for your meals, he’d leaned over, swirling his whiskey in his glass. “This is part of what I meant last night.” You frowned, breaking off a small piece of bread and dipping it into herbed oil before popping it into your mouth. “I want… to be able to do this whenever I want, not just for special occasions.” Oh. “You deserve good things. You deserve to get dressed up and taken out and shown a good time.” He shook his head. “I hate that this is all your doing.” Raising an eyebrow, you stared at him. “I mean I appreciate the hell out of it, but I want to be able to do this for you just because.” You understood. Though you were comfortable with your finances, the meal was easily going to cost you the same amount as your typical weekly food budget did, and so you got it. But he’s worth it.

 “This is worth it, Russo. We haven’t... “ You licked your lips. “Maybe I just wanted to show you off for once?” His return smile melted you, and he reached out to take your hand over the table, the candlelight casting shadows on his face. It’s worth it because love you. You talked about the meeting - and Billy gave you a rundown of what had been said, how the woman had responded, how she had seemed excited that someone like Billy - a Lieutenant with multiple tours of duty - still wanted to give back after he’d finished his obligations. “I’m proud of you, Billy.” He smiled again, looking around the room.

 “I am too. It felt good to have a purpose, to have something going on that wasn’t…” He sighed, licking his lips. “This is my decision, my dream. I’m in control of it.” He just wants something to call his own. “She said it was going to be a few days before they had an answer for me, though… it’s gonna be hell waiting.”  He sipped his drink again. “Lucky for me, I’ve got you to distract me.”

 The waitress - clearly smitten with Billy - brought you a complimentary dessert when you’d finished your meal, blushing furiously as he winked at her in thanks, but as soon as she’d turned from the table, his attention was back on you, his dark eyes focused and full of fire. “Looks like I get two desserts tonight.” Holy shit. He took a forkful of the dish in front of him, bringing it to his lips, his eyes locked on you as he ate.  You watched as he chewed and swallowed, the movement of his jaw and throat entrancing you. He then brought a thumb up to his lips, cleaning the bottom one off before he sucked it into his mouth, getting all of the chocolate remnants. Removing his finger, he passed you the fork, raising one eyebrow and leaning forward as your fingers touched. “It’s good.” You took the utensil from him, digging into the dessert and preparing to try it when he spoke again, voice low and absolutely loaded with desire . “But you taste much better.”  

 The fork froze halfway to your mouth and Billy smirked, raising one eyebrow at you. “Billy…” He put both hands flat on the table and leaned in, still smirking.

 “You heard me.” Your breath caught and you couldn’t look away from him, even as he lifted one hand off of the table, rubbing his thumb against the tips of his middle and pointer fingers in slow circles, tongue poking out of his mouth ever so slightly. “Do you even know what I want to do to you right now?” Oh fucking hell. Your eyes left Billy’s as you looked for your waitress, and as you saw her, you raised one hand signaling for the check. “I guess you do,” Billy mused as he picked up a different fork, returning to the chocolate on the plate in front of him.

 She needs to hurry. The waitress brought the bill and you slid your credit card into the sleeve with it without looking at the total, because you were entirely focused on Billy. He was fully leaned back in his seat, and had unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, exposing the entirety of his throat. He was still looking at you, but silently, watching every move with heavy lidded eyes. As you scrawled your name on the receipt, adding a generous tip you looked up in time to see Billy raise his glass to you with a wink before throwing the rest of his drink back in a deep gulp. “I’m ready.”

 You stood from the table and he did too, waiting until you were next to him to lean down and whisper into your ear with his hand resting on your back, but well below your waist. “I don’t think you are.” Your heart was thumping and you were acutely aware of his body next to yours as you made your way to the front of the restaurant and the coat check, which was a smaller room off of the lobby. “Oh, good, the attendant’s missing.” Billy grasped your hand, pulling you into the room and closing the door behind you. “It doesn’t lock.” He swore, looking around as he tried to find something to block the door with, but when he saw nothing, his eyes returned to you. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll use our bodies.”

 He pushed you backwards until your back was flush against the wood, his mouth on your neck. You gasped as he bit down, his hands rough against your shoulders as he held you in place, his hips rocking into yours. “Billy I’ve never….” You whispered, trying to get the words out but you couldn’t concentrate on anything except his mouth and his hands and the way that your body was responding to his - like a magnet, desperately trying to attach itself to another. “Billy, I -”

 “You’ve never what?” His voice was raspy and his accent was even thicker than usual, and as you heard it, you knew that whatever reservations you’d had about doing this didn’t matter - not with him. “Wait, let me guess.” His lips were traveling up your throat, teeth nipping occasionally as they made their way to your jaw. One of his hands had dropped down, his fingers pushing your skirt up and shoving it behind your hip before they trailed back down over your thigh. “You’ve never hooked up in public before, is that it?” His lips were beneath your ear, his warm breath with each whispered word making you shiver, and you opened your mouth to respond when you felt his fingers slip beneath the material between your legs and against you and you gasped loudly. “Doesn’t matter. I got you now.” He kissed you hard, pushing your head against the door and you moaned quietly into his mouth, your need for him overwhelming your fear and the embarrassment of getting caught.

 “Spread your legs.” It was an order and you complied immediately, feeling his hand drop. “I’m not gonna fuck you here.” He kissed you again, teeth tugging on your lower lip. “We don’t have time for that, and I don’t want to risk anyone walking in.” A single finger slipped into you and you cried out, hoping that the noise of the music and the people in the restaurant drowned it out. He pulled away from you, teeth digging into his own lower lip as he wrinkled his nose in an almost predatory manner.

 “Billy.” It was only one word but it was almost a moan and he actually smiled, shaking his head.

 “No, no. You did this for me tonight, and I’m doin’ this for you.” He widened his eyes and leaned in, lips next to your ear. “Put your leg over my shoulder when I kneel.” You nodded once, eyes closed. “And I want you to remember that when you come, there are people literally feet away, but you’re comin’ for me.” Oh, God, there are so many people. They’re all… “Enjoy yourself.” He pressed his lips to your cheek and then dropped down onto his knees in front of you. “Leg.” You lifted your left leg, hooking it over his shoulder and he looked up at you, right hand at your waist, the fingers of his left hand moving the lacy material out of the way to give him access to you. Oh my God.

 He winked and then lowered his mouth, lips making contact first and then his tongue only moments later as he parted them, delving into you with no restraint. Your head banged into the door as you cried out softly, trying to be mindful of the fact that Billy Fucking Russo had his head between your legs in the coatroom of a four star steakhouse in the thick of Manhattan, not in your bedroom. “Billy, Jesus.” He snickered against you, tongue lapping slowly and his beard rubbing against the insides of your thighs. He was savoring it - savoring you - and you began to pant, one hand moving from your side and into his hair, fingers grasping the long strands as you urged him to continue. Finally looking down, you saw that his left thumb was hooked beneath the material of your underwear, the rest of the fingers on that hand gripping your thigh as his dark head moved.

 He was breathing through his nose, you realized as you felt each exhale against the skin he dampened with his mouth. As you watched him, you gasped as you felt the hand that had been at your hip slide down and around the back of your right thigh, Billy’s fingers re-entering you as he raised his head slightly, focusing his tongue on the outer edges of your opening while his fingers did the work inside. So fucking good. Without warning, Billy changed the angle of his fingers and hummed against you,  tongue flicking in a staccato rhythm and you cried out his name, your fingers curling in his hair and your leg wobbling. Billy seemed unwilling to pull away, even though you were yanking on his hair and mumbling his name over and over.

 His tongue was still moving lazily against you when there was a loud knock on the door behind you and the handle turned. You gasped, startling and your eyes flew all the way open. Shit. Within seconds, Billy had used his hand to help you set your leg back on the ground, tugging your skirt back into its proper position and releasing his grip on your other thigh, panties snapping back into place against your sensitive skin. Fucking hell. You were still breathing hard even as he stood, your eyes wild as you stared at him. “Your face, Billy, it’s-” He smirked, eyes sparkling as he licked his lips thoroughly before wiping his hand over his chin and pulling you close to him. Billy reached behind him with one hand to wipe his fingers on a random coat while smoothing his hair back with his other hand.

 “Trust me.” He breathed the words against your cheek before he pushed you backwards into the wall in front of the coats, his mouth finding yours easily. You slid your hands against his back as he held your face, kissing you deeply. You were only dimly aware of the door flying open next to you and a surprised gasp from the person that had entered when Billy pulled away sheepishly, turning his head toward the door. An older couple stood there, the man scowling with his arms crossed  but the woman smiling as she saw Billy’s embarrassed look. “I… we…” He laughed and you giggled, grabbing at the front of his shirt and looking first at the man and then the woman, still trying to get your breathing under control. “I can’t control myself around her.”

 Billy tugged you forward and past the couple, and out the front door of the restaurant. As you made it to the sidewalk, he stopped you, reaching up to touch your face with his fingertips, his dark eyes searching yours as if he wanted to say something to you. Oh Billy. “You OK, Billy?” He nodded, blinking rapidly, thumb against your lips as he pulled you close to him, kissing your forehead again. He spoke so quietly that you almost missed his words amidst the sounds of passing traffic.

 “Thank you.” He paused and you pulled back, looking up at him. “Thank you for tonight. Thank you for your help. Thank you for… believing in me.” You nodded. Always. “I’m so happy you’re in my life, I don’t...” He trailed off, shaking his head, and you saw in his eyes that he was terrified to say the words to you, to admit that he cared as much as he did - as much as you did.  I love you too, Billy Russo. He took a deep breath. “And… as enjoyable as that was for both of us, I’m… not sure I want to risk anything like that with you again.” He pulled you back to him, and you could feel his heart beating erratically beneath his shirt. His lips moved down to your ear again. “You’re for my eyes only.” I sure am. You sighed, nodding, and he took your hand, squeezing it hard.

 --

Two days later, you were sitting at your desk, eyes focused on your computer monitor as you looked up pricing for vendors when your phone rang. Billy’s name and picture flashed on the screen  and you grinned as you picked it up, sliding it over to answer. “Hey handsome.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you immediately stopped smiling. “Billy? You OK? Are you there?” You heard him take a breath. “Billy?” As your mind worked overtime trying to figure out what could have happened in the few hours since you’d spoken to him last, you pushed yourself back from your desk, standing up. Oh no.

 “Hey, um… I… I just…” He took a shuddering breath, and you heard him swallow. “They denied the loan.” Oh, no. You dropped back into the seat, your free hand coming up to your forehead. “I didn’t qualify, even with my down payment and the proposal, so… no Anvil.” He sounded close to tears, and you felt your own eyes pricking too, your fingers rubbing against your forehead. He wants this so much.

 “Billy, we’ll figure something out. There’s got to be a way for you to get the money.” He laughed, but it was hollow. “We’ll make it happen. I don’t know how, but…” You paused. “You’re going to open Anvil. I promise you.”

---