#he’s so sad and pathetic in this :’) when they were giving him a CAT scan and barbara crampton’s character was petting him to make him stop

[spacepunksupreme]

just finished watching From Beyond and man … Jeffery Combs Barbara Crampton Freakification: The Movie

[denileisariver]

pairing: batman aka bruce wayne x f!reader

summary: in which batman mistakes you for a prostitute, so might as well give him a treat, right?

warnings: no actual smut :(, mentions of non-con but nothing actually happens, implied age gap, no physical descriptions of reader besides having hair long enough to pull, reader doesn't make the best decisions, readers' also probably touch starved with attachment issues but that's okay twin <3

a/n: poorly paced just like everything else i write :) might make a part 2, idk yet :/

you never thought you'd end up here..

yea right, who were you kidding? dressing up in tight shirts and mini skirts, stumbling around gotham in pleaser heels you could barely walk in. you were surprised this hasn't happened sooner.

you'd always been cat-called and hollered at by desperate horny men, looking to get their dicks wet. guess this time, one of them finally got sick of you not ever giving it up.

rubble crunches beneath you, whatever nasty grime on the street of the empty alleyway staining your skin when you're forced onto your knees. dirty hands pull and grab onto your hair to hold you in place. you feel like screaming, but you're frozen, like a deer in headlights.

"c'mon bitch, show me what you got,"

you whimper a bit at one of his painful tugs, tears threatening to well up. you're sure you look pathetic right now, letting this stranger contort your body to his will, not even putting up a fight. and he seems to get off on it, too. one of his free hands begin to pull down the zipper at the seat of his pants, a disgusting, toothy grin on his face that you wish you could smack off of him.

"so glad i met you tonight, love, or else i woulda missed the perfect opportunity to ruin your pretty little cu-" his words are cut off from him, those large wretched hands pulled off of you before you could even blink.

that's when you see him. angry and seething, beating the man that was just about to violate you damn near half to death. batman, knocking in the teeth of the sad man whose pleading for his life like he wasn't just about to ruin yours.

you're stuck in place, just watching, until his face is unrecognizable, dripping with his own blood. it's only then that he finally stops to look at you.

"it's okay, you're safe now."

his voice in low, something deep from his chest that sends chills down your spine. he towers over you, still knelt on the ground from shock, lending out a gloved hand that was still covered in your assailants blood. and you take it.

"are you hurt?" just mentally, you think. when you don't respond immediately, his eyes scan over your body, noticing the scrape on your knee, and you notice it the same time he does.

"i'm fine.. thank you," it's the first thing you say to him. this moment will be forever ingrained in your memory. ever since you were a little girl, you've heard stories of batman. the man who patrolled these streets every damn night, made criminals live in fear, and protected the helpless. you never thought you'd be standing face to face with him.

"it's dangerous, you shouldn't be working these streets this time of night," he grumbles, handing you crumbled up cash that you assume belongs to the man he just beat the shit out of. it isn't yours, but you don't tell batman that, and hesitantly stuff the dollars in your purse. wait.. working these streets? what's that supposed to mean?

your eyes flick up to him in confusion, and that's when you realize. oh.. he thinks you're a sex worker. you guess you shouldn't be surprised. i mean, who in their right mind walks around looking the way you do, a bit tipsy after leaving the bar, at three in the morning in the narrows? prostitutes, apparently. and also apparently, batman seems to think you look like one.

stunned to silence once again by him, twice in the span of less than twenty minutes, you stare up at him with your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of how to even respond to that.

"let me take care of you." is all he says when he realizes you won't add more, a surprisingly gentle hand pulling you towards the batmobile that you didn't even notice was there. your eyes focus in on his hands, and how they could easily wrap around your wrists and arms like nothing.

let me take care of you.

those words repeat in your head, soft and comforting, and you can't explain why. maybe it's cause you haven't been taken care of since you ran away from home, haven't had anyone to protect and provide for you. and you miss it. not that you ever really had much of it to begin with.

he sits you on top of the hood of the car, not even attempting to make conversation while he dresses your wound, carefully cleaning and applying ointment to the cut. his demeanor is almost in stark contrast of what it was just mere moments ago, touching you like you were a fragile glass doll, threatening to break if he applied too much pressure.

you take the small time you have around him to take a really good look at him. batman, right in front of you. a leather cowl that was covered in cuts, armor littered in bullet holes. the only skin that was available to your eyes was his mouth. you could practically feel your own mouth watering, noticing the grey hair that was seeping into his scruff. and those damn lips that looked so kissable.

no.. that isn't right. you shouldn't be lusting over this man just because he saved your life. but then again, you'd always gotten clingy towards guys who showed you the kind of attention you craved, even if you barely knew 'em. you're too caught up in your thoughts to notice him finishing up. "it's rude to stare, y'know?"

"shit, i'm sorry," you stutter out, face flushed in embarrassment. you coulda swore for a split second you saw a smirk on his face, but if it was there, it's gone before you can confirm it.

"it's fine.. let me take you home."

well, there goes that fleeting feeling of actually being taken care of. admired felt like too big of a word to describe it, but that's what it felt like, even if it was just for a couple of short minutes. you don't know why it disappoints you so much that you won't be able to see him any longer, even if it was because someone put your life at risk.

the only thing you can think about while he drives you home is how much more of it you wanted. more affection, more of someone who just cared enough to ask if you were okay, how your day was. you hear him talk about how you should take care of yourself, and it only reminds you of how earlier he assumed you were prowling the streets, looking to sell yourself for cash.

"I'm not a prostitute." you finally tell him.

the rubbery leather of his gloves strain beneath his grasp, hold tightening on the steering wheel. you can see his jaw clench a bit, and you can only assume your confession catches him by surprise. "what?" his eyes flicker over to you, looking over your skimpy outfit.

"i.. was just walking home after a night out." you explain, swallowing a bit when you notice his eyes focused on your legs probably a bit longer than intended. "and thank you.. for saving me."

he's quiet for a moment, seemingly in thought. whatever was on his mind, you'll never know, but you wanted so damn much to know. your heart aches a bit, knowing your apartment was just around the corner.

"i'm sorry that i misinterpreted that," he begins slowly, turning onto your block until the vehicle was stopped right in front of the tiny place you called home. "and you don't have to thank me." and that was the last thing he ever said to you, at least for now you hoped..

he exits the car, opening your door and helping you step out, too wobly on your own heels to stand up right. before you part ways, you make eye contact for a long moment, taking him in as much as possible before he disappeared from you completely. "goodbye, batman."

something about it is melancholic, a look in your eyes that bruce couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. he watches you enter the apartment, staying there for a couple of seconds to ensure your safety, before entering the batmobile again to finish patrol for the night.

he sits there in silence for a moment, his brain rewinding the entire interaction with you. maybe you were just feeling down because of what almost happened to you, or maybe it was something else. a part of him thought maybe you were lonely, and he only suspected that because he felt lonely too. his gaze moves over to the passenger seat where you were just mere seconds ago, and that's when he sees it.

red lace panties, sprawled out of the floor of the car.

you must've taken them off in a hurry when he was going to open your door for you. you take him by surprise for the second time this night, his hands quickly going over to grab them and inspecting the material. they're wet. the cloth is darkened and damp, slick glistening in what little light there was available.

bruce feels his cock jump in excitement at the sight, strained in the tightness of his pants. he subconsciously licks his lips, the urge to put them to his nose or even taste your juices creeping up on him, but he resists. what a naughty girl, he thinks to himself, a tiny grin forming on his face. bruce pockets them for later, looking over your apartment once more, seeing your familiar shadow in one of the windows.

no, this would definitely not be the last time you meet the batman.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello i hope you’re doing well and stay hydrated. Can i an oneshot of Leona turning into a cat by accident and a shy mc looks for Leona bec Ruggie sends her to find him. She finds a cat with an injury, not realizing the cat himself is Leona. She aid his injury and starts telling the cat about how she feels for Leona like she has no confidence to confess her love for him and wants to be on his side but she feels completely out of his league. LOLOL Thankssssss :))

Thank you for the well wishes. I hope you are healthy and staying hydrated too.

Please enjoy this piece. I think it’s the longest imagine I’ve done so far, at about 960 words. I also wrote a bonus imagine to go with this one, which describes the events leading up to Leona’s transformation into a cat.

Imagine this...

Leona cursed under his breath as he bounded about the courtyard on all fours. Ears twitching, tail sailing in the wind. Pain jolted up one of his hind legs from an earlier scuffle with a bird--but he squashed that sensation and carried on.

No one so much as gave him a second glance.

After all, he lacked a human form at the moment. Instead of skin, Leona boasted a coat of white fur, splattered with black and orange patches--and though his frame had shrunk to that of a typical house cat, his agility remained unchanged.

His green eyes furiously scanned the courtyard. Everything looked so much bigger in this puny body.

The Mirror Chamber--where was the Mirror Chamber? He needed to dive back into Savanaclaw territory, to find Ruggie--a skilled animal speaker--and demand that he find a way to undo this accursed fairy magic. There was no way Leona was going to crawl back to Malleus begging for help.

Pain shot up his hind leg again, slowing Leona to a halt.

Stupid bird.

Sighing, he limped as best as he could to the shade of an apple tree to rest. Unfortunately for him, someone was already sitting under it--the Ramshackle Prefect.

“Mm?” Yuu glanced up at his slow approach. Her eyes widened with joy. “A kitty,” she gasped, clasping her hands together. Her gaze focused on his injured leg. “Oh, you’re hurt...”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just make some space for me,” Leona grumbled, knowing that all Yuu would hear was meowing.

“Did you get separated from your owner and injure yourself?” Yuu asked, offering a soft smile and a hand. Leona frowned--she was never this talkative with him when he was in his usual form. No, she often shied away from interacting with others completely.

He cautiously nudged her hand with his head. When he did not reply, Yuu absentmindedly continued.

“You look a little lost, haha.” She scratched the back of her head. “I’m a bit lost myself...I mean, Ruggie asked me to look for someone for him, but I’m kinda stuck here until Ace and Deuce come and grab me. I ended up not being much help.”

Leona’s ears perked up at the mention of his vice-dorm leader. Right--it was around the time when Ruggie would typically pick him up from his botanical garden nap. He was probably on a wild goose chase when he didn’t find Leona in his usual spot.

“Oh, do you know Ruggie? Maybe he’s your owner.” Yuu nodded, taking in Leona’s reaction.

“Hah! He wishes.”

“Is that a no? Hmm.” Yuu tiled her head to one side, lost in contemplation. “Maybe you’re Leona’s? The colors on your fur remind me of him.”

“I am Leona, you silly herbivore.”

“I can see why he’d keep a kitty,” Yuu continued. “I have my own. Grim can be rough around the edges sometimes. But you--you’re so cute. Leona’s...very lucky to have you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her suspicious behavior. Yuu had a semi-dazed look on her face at the mention of his name, a slight blush dusted upon her cheeks. Still, there was something more beyond that.

Melancholy.

“Oi. Stop that,” Leona commanded, crawling onto her lap and bopping Yuu on the nose with his paw.

“Ah.” Yuu stared at him like a deer in headlights. Then her eyes softened. “Were you trying to cheer me up, kitty?”

“No, you just looked so sad that it was pathetic,” he scoffed, nudging her cheek with his face, “so smile already.”

Yuu sighed--the complete opposite of what he wanted. “It’s that obvious, huh? Oh, what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Hey, kitty. Can I tell you a secret?” Yuu whispered. Her eyes looked sadder than ever, big and wet like that of a doe.

“Shoot. It’s not like I’m going to be going anywhere anytime soon with this bad leg.”

“There’s...” Yuu hestitated. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “There’s this boy I like.”

“Oh, brother.”

“But...he’s perfect, and I’m not. He’s proud and confident and handsome...and he’s a prince!” Yuu gushed, but her cheer quickly dropped. “Meanwhile, I’m just a girl from who knows where--I can’t do magic, I don’t come from a prestigious family, and I can barely speak to him without tripping over my own words, let alone confess!”

“Oh.” Leona’s pack had always taught him to respect women, but even he had no idea what to say in this situation. “That’s...not great.”

What she said next made his fur stand on end.

“Leona’s completely out of my league,” Yuu whimpered, burying her face in her hands. “I’m no good for him at all.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Leona chided. Perhaps if he were human again, he would be blushing--but (and he never thought he’d be thinking this) thank god for being a cat! “Don’t...don’t give up before you’ve even tried, you weak herbivore!”

He batted his paws against her hands.

Yuu looked up. “Ah. Are you...encouraging me, kitty?”

“Whatever gets you to cheer up.” Leona forced a smile--though he wasn’t quite sure how it came off on his cat face. “Come on. Get back on your feet and just go for it already.”

That seemed to do the trick, for Yuu beamed.

“Haha, that’s such a funny face. What a silly kitty you are.” She playfully poked him on the nose. “Thank you for listening.”

“Hmph. Good to see you in high spirits again.” Leona smirked to himself. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting that confession, then. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Hehe.” Yuu cradled Leona in her arms and stood. “When Ace and Deuce get here, we’ll take you to the infirmary to get some ice for your leg.”

Until then, they waited under the apple tree.

Together.

[radiorenjun]

Rain Rituals || Z.CL

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader

Genre: Comedy, fluff

Summary: Chenle's high school life was more than tedious to say the least. That is when he caught you screaming under the rain.

Warning: fluff. Comedy. Mentions of detention. Second hand embarrassment. Cliché

Wordcount: 2.8K (it's short)

A/n: please ignore my terrible editing skills and happy birthday Chenle!

Chenle was just a simple rich high school boy who, like any other student, just wants to get school and exams over with as soon as possible. He was bored of waking up everyday only for the same exact thing to happen over and over again.

Wake up. Eat. Go to school. Endure hell for 6 hours straight. Go home. Eat. Study. Sleep.

Repeat.

It was boring to say the least. Chenle wanted something to spice up his life, anything to make life more worth living. He wasn’t one to pay attention to whatever’s happening around him, he just wasn’t interested. But one faithful day, a chaotic social hazard of a Chemistry classmate of his decided to change that. Well, technically, the situation was unexpected and absolutely ludicrous for the young boy’s mind to comprehend.

It was a cold, raining evening. Chenle was just getting out of basketball practice, sweat trickling down his forehead as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. Chenle was just on his way to the parking lot, fumbling with the car keys in his hand, his uniform blazer draped over his head to prevent him from getting even more wet than he already is. 

A loud scream pierced the quiet atmosphere, causing Chenle to flinch at the sudden sound. His head rapidly turned to see where the scream had come from before his eyes squinted at a blurry figure standing in the middle of the school garden. 

‘What the fuck?’

Curiosity kills the cat, as they say.

Chenle went closer to the figure who let out another alarming scream, his brows furrowed in confusion as the figure became clearer and clearer with every step. The soles of his new Air Jordan’s making soft sounds as they made contact with the puddles that formed on the ground.

He leaned his head to the side when he was close enough to see the figure clearly. His eyes widened to see none other than you, the class clown of his grade. Also known as ‘That Girl Beside Me Who Wrote Three Pages Worth Of A Test Answer To Spite The Teacher’.

You were quite infamous for your extroverted demeanor. Making friends and cracking jokes left and right as if it was as simple as breathing air. Joking around and riling up teachers as if they were your closest friends.

To Chenle, you were quite peculiar.

But the sight before him was more than odd. You were standing soaking wet in the rain with your arms stretched out, your hair sticking to your forehead as you leaned your head up as if you were doing some kind of satanic ritual or religious sacrifice. 

You let out another scream before groaning in frustration. “Jesus Christ!” you cursed out, kicking a puddle with your shoes as if it would do anything to make your frustrations go away.

Chenle just stood awkwardly not far behind you as he watched you throw a mini tantrum for whatever reason, his pupils dilating in concern with a frown on his lips. ‘This is just sad and embarrassing,’ he thought with a shake of his head.

The second hand embarrassment Chenle felt as he watched you push your wet hair back, letting the raindrops hit your face was almost as extravagant as the time when he watched his seniors attempt to flirt with one of his classmates.

 A part of him wanted to just leave before someone (or you) catches him staring at you with a look of disappointment and sympathy. But another part of him was interested to see what you were whining on about in the middle of a heavy rain at 4:57 PM in the evening when you could be doing all this nonsense in the comforts of your own home like a normal person.

“God dammit!” you cursed once again. “Why the fuck am I single!?” 

Chenle’s frown deepened when he heard those words exit your mouth. ‘Seriously?’ he thought with a click of his tongue, ‘she’s screaming out here like a lunatic all because she’s single?’ 

“Come on! Being single is a choice, right? I didn’t choose to be the only single one in all of my friend groups, so why the fuck am I single?” You rambled, letting out a loud groan afterwards. Chenle shook his head in disappointment, he wanted to walk away instead of looking at whatever you were doing. But yet again, he was far too entertained to even look away.

“Oh God.” you clasped your hands together, intertwining your fingers and shutting your eyes tighty. “ If you can hear me up there. If you can hear me screaming my lungs out like a lunatic. Please, oh please, give me a fucking boyfriend! I think I deserved that much for being good for all my life, right?”  You paused at the last part, opening an eye as if to rethink your words before you shut them tight again. “Well for the most part of it, anyways!” you added.

Chenle couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, his arms crossing as he let out a soft laugh. ‘This is just getting really sad, I almost feel bad for her.’ he thought before looking down at his Apple Watch, eyes widened at what time it was. He turned to make a run to his car, pulling out his car keys to unlock it.

As Chenle dried himself off with the spare towel he usually keeps in the compartment box of his car, he made a mental note to himself to bring this up to you the next time he sees you. He’s sure that your reaction to him having blackmail is just going to be absolutely satisfying.

You were sitting in your desk, listening to your friend ramble about the things she did with her significant other after school the other day. A small sad smile forming on your lips as you try to listen to her conversation without feeling too sad about your pathetic, almost nonexistent, love life. 

But yet again, it’s been a couple of days since you threw a tantrum at the school garden. Cursing at the sky and rain to give you a boyfriend. Only for the principal to come up to you to tell you to go home and get some rest, her expression filled with worry and concern. She probably thought you had your screws loose. And honestly, you couldn’t blame her.

You screamed till the boys at the basketball team had already gone home, your parents scolding you for being out so late in the rain. You spent two days in bed with a fever, worrying if anyone saw you acting like a delusional maniac for two hours straight. But you were relieved to see that it’s been a while since your little outburst and nobody had brought up the topic of you screaming and yelling in the middle of the rain.

Not even the janitors.

That is until you had your Chemistry class. 

Your desk mate, who was none other than the infamous Chinese rich boy, Chenle came up to you with a grin spread across his face. You had never spoken to Chenle before, mostly because he was quite cute and you didn’t know what to say to someone so adorable and quiet.

You were just minding your own business, jotting down notes that your friend lent you because you couldn’t make it to school last class because of said fever. “Hey,” Chenle greeted, nodding at you as he placed his bag on his chair. You look up in surprise, eyes widening slightly at the fact that Chenle was actually talking to you and starting a conversation with you.

“Hi?” your throat was dry as your mind went blank, trying to use your extrovert powers to desperately try to come up with something to keep the conversation going. “What’s up?” you added, looking down at your notebook as you continued jotting down notes. Chenle sat on his chair, staring at you with a suspicious smirk spread across his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

You hummed a small ‘yes’ under your breath, eyes scanning your notes.

“You have to answer it truthfully, though.”

You replied with another small hum, nodding slightly.

“Were you that girl screaming like a lunatic in the middle of the rain the other day?” he asked with a casual hum. His words made your hand stop writing, your eyes going wide as you felt your heart almost stop beating. ‘Shit. Oh god. Oh Dear God, no. You can’t do this to me,’ you thought with a nervous bite of your lip. 

You attempted to shrug it off casually, keeping an emotionless expression as you continued writing on your notebook. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you responded, feeling your heartbeat nervously against your chest. Chenle’s smirk widened at the way you gulped nervously and avoided eye contact when he brought it up.

“You sure? I’m pretty sure I saw you kicking and stomping puddles the other day, cursing and what-not,” Chenle taunted, watching as your hand weakened their grip on your pen. You cleared your throat, “again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Really? You sure you weren’t the girl who screamed ‘Dear God, give me a damn boyfriend already?!’ in the middle of the school garden like some kind of deranged maniac?”

“You saw that?!” you gasped, your head shooting up to glare at him with wide eyes. You then cupped your mouth when you realised you accidentally gave yourself away. Chenle let out a laugh, pointing a finger at your reaction. “Called it! So you were the girl doing a satanic ritual the other day!” he exclaimed, an amused smile playing at his lips.

You frowned, rolling your eyes as you looked back down at your paper. “Shut up, Zhong Chenle,” you grumbled with a small pout on your lips. “Come on, Y/n. What the hell happened to make you go all bat-shit crazy like that? I mean, not gonna lie it was quite amusing, you should definitely do it again,” he chuckled, leaning his chin against his hand, his elbow propped up on his desk.

You gave an exasperated sigh, looking up at him with a tired expression. “God I wished I took a video of it. Sadly, my phone ran out of battery at that time,” he added with an innocent smile. “You done? I get it, I publicly embarrassed myself. Is there anything you would like to add to that?” Your lips twitched in annoyance when Chenle took a moment to actually think of an answer.

“Give me a minute,” he hummed.

“That was a rhetorical question,” you frowned.

“I publicly embarrass myself on a daily basis, Chenle. What do you want from me?” you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at the boy. “Threatening to spread the information isn’t going to embarrass me that much. I’ve done worse things,” you added, finishing the last few words of your notes. 

“No shit, you walked into the boys bathroom to hide from some guy.” Chenle exclaimed with a laugh. “Survival is a reasonable explanation. I still wanted to live, you know! I’ll have you know I only got two weeks of detention for it,” you closed your notebook with a huff, getting up from your seat.

“And was your little tantrum under the rain another part of your survival instincts?” Chenle provoked, causing you to clench your teeth. “I don’t think doing a religious sacrifice on a rainy school day can be called survival, Y/n. Especially whining about how single you are,” he snorted against his palm.

You flushed in embarrassment, turning your body away as you grabbed the notes you borrowed from your classmate. “Shut up. I should’ve performed a demonic ritual to wipe you off of the face of the earth instead,” you spat back, walking away from your shared desk to head on over to your classmate’s.

“It still won’t get you a boyfriend, though.” Was the last words Chenle said to you before you walked away.

It was safe to say you had to apologize to your friend for crumpling their notes.

“I still can’t believe screaming like a lunatic under the rain actually works,” you shuddered, sipping your hot cocoa with a traumatized expression. It’s been almost a year since then. You graduated high school, now you’re in your first year of college.

It was honestly a surprising journey but a couple months after your little tantrum, you manage to find yourself an actual boyfriend, who you now share a flat with. It’s all just ironic really, you screaming under the rain like a deranged psycho was supposed to be something to laugh at in the near future.

But now, the story became even more laughable when the world decided to drop your boyfriend right in front of you not too soon afterwards. Even though you didn’t get along very well at first, it was still pretty worth it, if you say so.

“You still can’t believe what, babe?” you heard your boyfriend call out from the kitchen, the sound of his spoon stirring inside one of your ceramic mugs hitting the air. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you scrolled through your old picture file on your laptop. Pictures you and your friends took before you all graduated high school to capture your last moments with each other.

“Remember the day I screamed and cursed at the sky because I was tired of being single?” you laughed, remembering the moment as if it happened only yesterday. There was a small pause before a loud dolphin-like laugh pierced your ears. “Oh my god, that was so iconic!” he exclaimed, tapping the spoon against the edge of the mug.

“Right? God it was so embarrassing! I finally stopped when I realised the principal was going home. Damn, thank god I didn’t get detention,” you joked, opening a picture of you and your boyfriend laughing and smiling under the heavy rain. “I’m still pissed off that I didn’t record it, it could’ve pinpoint the day I decided to talk to you,” Chenle chuckled, coming out of the kitchen with a mug of his own.

“Shut up, I know for a fact you’re never going to let it go if you actually did record it,” you stuck your tongue out teasingly, scooting over to the edge of the couch to make room for him to sit. “Indeed, it could’ve gone viral, you know. I could post it on Tik Tok or Youtube with the caption ‘Girl Screams At How Single She Is Not Knowing That Her Future Boyfriend Is Standing Right Behind Her, Recording Her For Epic Black Mail!’” Chenle grinned, emphasizing his words with his hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up, I hate you,” you huffed, pushing the laptop closer to the two of you so he could see. “What are you looking at by the way?” he asked, leaning over to see your screen clearly as he sipped his beverage. “Old photos from high school, you were way more annoying then,” you commented, giggling.

“I’m not annoying now?” he raised his brow at you, making you grin. “You still are, don’t worry. Just slightly less than back when we started dating,” you pinched his cheek gingerly causing him to chuckle. “That means I’m not doing my job as a good boyfriend,” he pouted, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Chenle, no.” You shook your head at him.

“Chenle, yes.” He nodded with a cheeky grin.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you deadpanned, turning away from him to continue scrolling. “Sure you would,” he said sarcastically, wrapping an arm around you lovingly. “You love me too much to even think about breaking up,” he said, grabbing your cheeks in both of his palms, turning your head to make you look at him. He pressed your cheeks together, making your lips pucker up for him to press a loving kiss against them.

“Remind me why I like you so much?” you mumbled against his lips before he pulled away. He hummed, thinking it over for a moment. “I’m just too damn amazing. Plus, a clown like yourself deserves someone to over-clown you,” he giggled. “I prefer the term ‘rival’ because over-clowning  isn’t a thing but go off, I guess.” you let out a soft laugh, nuzzling your nose against his.

“Maybe you should do what I did and start screaming at the rain to make us rich,” you suggested.

“Y/n, no. You’re not funny.”

[possum-rat]

Not fun memories involving fire

Previous 

Next

(Y/n) bolts up from a bed. Sticky hot sheets sticking to their legs. Someone took the time and effort to unzip most of the pant leg turning the cargo pants into shorts, and pull off the sweater leaving them in a whitish shirt.

Their head aching they press their palms to their temples in an attempt to relieve some of the pain. "(Y/n) It's been a while! How are you?" Wilbur's voice erupts cheerfully. (Y/n) drops their hands to their lap staring intently at their grayish-tinted hands. "T's only been a few weeks Wilbur." They murmur tiredly. "Uh no? It's been a few years. Like 6 years." Replies Wilbur confused. "You feeling okay?"

(Y/n) frowns slightly and replies "Nah haven't been for the past... Wait how old am I?-" There's a pause as (Y/n) counts on their fingers before continuing completely serious "Uh not for the past like 16 years. But hey I'm alive? With 1 more life!" Wilbur blanches. "How the hell- What? How'd you lose your first?"

(Y/n) freezes and coughs. "Uh. Long story?"

-----

"(N/N)? LOVE? WHERE ARE YOU?" A panic-filled voice shouts from beyond the burning cottage. As smoke fills (y/n's) lungs they cough violently as they look around for a small tuxedo kitten. "Ailuros? Where are you?" They wheeze. As the fire continues eating at any and all flammable objects (Y/n) runs toward a shucker box. Patting their hand on the burning embers they grab the Shulker box and quickly tap the air infront of them before placing the box inside.

a pitiful mew comes from beside their feet."Ailuros." The word spills from (y/n's) mouth before they can stop. The small cat leaps up onto their open arms. Clutching the cat close to their chest they run toward the nearest door. Kicking it open their greeted by an angry mob.

shouting and sadistic grins illuminated by the light off the flickering burning flames.

(y/n) backs up dropping the cat allowing it to run. "Lilith?" (Y/n) voice comes out below a whisper. Pulling a sword from their inventory they point it toward the Tall brutish men break down the front door. Sprinting out of the house and toward the opisiete window (Y/n) slams their foot into the side of the window. The tinkle of glass and sharp pain flashing up their leg make's (Y/n's) eyes water more. Jumping from the window the cool air is a welcomed reilef compared to the sweltering heat of the burning house.

Staring in disbelief at the sight faintly as if in the deepest corner of their mind a song begins to play. Melancholy and slightly sad.

"All my style

All my grace

All I tried to save my face

All my guts, try to spill

All my holes, try to fill

All my money been a long time spent

On my drugs, on my rent

On my saving philosophy

It goes, one in the bank, and the rest for me

It goes, all my troubles on a burning pile

All lit up and I start to smile

If I, catch fire then I change my aim

Throw my troubles at the pearly gates"

"(N/n) oh there you are! Oh, I was so worried!" Lilith's voice erupts from behind (Y/n) causing them to flinch still feeling adrenaline in their veins. "Oh thank god. I thought they killed you." (Y/n) murmurs as they pull the raven-haired girl into a hug. "Yeah I'm alive hun." The sound of metal against a sheath causes (Y/n) to tense up.

the cool feeling of a blade to skin causes (Y/n's) eyes to widen in fear. "Lilith?" They whisper fear evident in their voice. "Hm? What's wrong love?" Lilith asks calmly. "Why? Why do you have a blade?" (Y/n) asks quietly as they back up while Lilith grins and points the blade toward them.

"Tch. You afraid to die? Hm? Does death scare you?" She erupt coyly as she adjusts her long dark green blazer gently pulling a long slightly waves strand of dark hair off before rolling it in her fingers and dropping it to the ground. "Ye-yes. It does." (Y/n) mumbles quietly.

"Well (y/n) you should remember. Those stupid children's books you'd read? Percy Jackson? Love and death aren't as different as one might think. You shouldn't fear death." (Y/n) feels their heart beginning to beat against their heart as they back into a tree. As they scoot away from it they trip over a root and smack to the ground.

"You're pathetic." Lilith snarls. The world blinks in and out of existence. "How in the world do you think I could ever like-Love someone like you?" She scoffs "I mean. I only stuck around because you're the famous '(Y/n)! The famous Healer/Alchemist! You know Wilbur Soot. How the fuck do you think I'd ever love you."

she bends closer toward (Y/n) placing the heel of her boot into their throat. "Oh." (Y/n) says simply.

Death gently places a soft kiss upon (y/n) forehead.

-----

(y/n) rubs their neck nervously as they stand up. "Anyway. Wilbur, do you have a potion stand?" Wilbur nods and stands up. As the two of them walk out of the tiny little makeshift hut (Y/n) spots the distance figure of Tubbo and Tommy. Sprinting toward them wincing at the light.

"TUBBO!" they screech as they pull the Ram-hybrid into a hug. "(Y/n)? YOU PRICK I WAS TALKING TO HIM."

Tubbo wraps his arms around them in return. As they cling to each other (Y/n) stands up holding Tubbo like a child. "Jesus Christ- Wow you've grown," Tubbo says excitedly. "Welp I need to go to the nether to grab some supplies wanna come with?" (Y/n) asks more to Tommy than Tubbo.

the two agree, letting (Y/n) get more appropriate clothes on. As the trio walk-Run toward the portal Tommy asks confused "Why do you seem taller?" The familiar whurring of the portal fills the silence as (Y/n) pulls at the brightly colored sky blue sweater before rolling up the sleeves. "Uh that'd probably be the boots? Anyway what's happened? How've you been?" They say as they follow the other two boys.

"Oh not much, the usual. Well Part from being killed once." Tubbo informs as he walks infront of (y/n) his brown hair bouncing slightly as he walks. "Hm. So you both have 2 lives left?" They mutter quietly. "Okay."

Small whispers in their head begins creating a wave of sound.

"Keep them safe."

"Watch Tommy."

"Grape."

"Meow."

the voices eventually move on too chanting "Meow." Contentedly. The whistle of a fire ballT makes (y/n) jump. Turning toward the sound they shove Tommy's head down along with Tubbo's just in case. They flinch violently as a freezing feeling spreads over their cheek and neck along with part of their forearm.

The sudden alarmed shout of Tubbo and Tommy causes (Y/n) to jump and turn toward them in fear. "Are you alright?" They ask. The sound of a skeleton walking towards them causes Tubbo to tense up. "Tommy? Do you wanna stick with them? I just got a message from Wilbur." Tommy nods uncertainly. As Tubbo dissapears (y/n) turns toward the skeleton.

"Child. Is this human being troublesome? Do you need me to remove him?" (Y/n) shakes their head wincing at the pain in their neck. "Tommy, go with Tubbo." Tommy happily obliges.

The world seems to tip and swirl underneath (y/n) feet.

-----

The loud crash of something metal causes (Y/n) to bolt upright. " YOU'RE GOING TO WALK THE CHILD DUMBASS." Snaps someone from out of sight. Another voice replies quietly "Please stop shouting. The child is awake." There's shuffling before two faces appear. (Y/n) squints at the trio. The tallest of the three has broken chain-mail armor layered over a purple uniform with a crest of arms on the left-hand side over their heart.

The skeleton nods and groans as they sit down infront of (Y/n).

"Hello (y/n) It's been awhile. But you probably don't remember me. You were but a baby. I'm Theodore." He says in a deep slightly raspy voice. (Y/n) nods and scans around. Theodore points toward the smallest of the three and informs " the one over their beside the door is Loren."

Loren gives a shy wave before tapping the wood on the side of the door. ".. - .-..-. ... / .- / .--. .-.. . .- ... ..- .-. . / - --- / ..-. .. -. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -- . . - / -.-- --- ..- / -- -..- .-.-.- -.--. -.-- -..-. -. -.--.-" it takes (Y/n) a second to decipher the tapping. Before translating it to "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mx.(Y/n)" Loren wears an off white dress shirt along with a pair of dark plum pinstripe pants, and a black corset. They smile kindly before glancing toward the ground. "It's nice to meet you Loren." (Y/n) rasps.

"And that over behind you is Clementine."

(Y/n) try's to look toward the direction Theodore had said but a hand presses against their shoulder. "Here let me move hun." A poofy dark blue shoulder poof thingy floats into view. An orate old dress appears into view. Clementine smiles ghostly at (y/n). "You're going to hurt yourself hun. When's the last time you had a proper glass of Wither affect?"

"What? I- I've never had a 'Proper glass of Wither affect?' I'm pretty sure it'll kill me?" They murmer.

"PREPOSTEROUS! This is why you were so weak and frail. SEE CLEMENTINE I TOLD YOU." Theodore states exasperated. Loren sends a look like "I'm sorry about them." Clementine sights and daintily sits down on the bed beside (Y/n) "hm. Dear? Are you okay? Oh cra- Sorry excuse my vulgar language. Theodore pass me the Potion of healing?" (Y/n) frowns and coughs "I'm not- I'm pretty sure that I'm fully human. I don't think wither would help me."

Loren shakes their head and taps the wall again. "No no. Your right about the human part. You're part human, and part well us." They state as they point to themself Clementine and Theodore.

(Y/n) nods slightly and sighs in relief at the cool sensation of the liquid against the raw burnt skin. "OH CRUD- Sorry, but I really need to go find my friends. Do you have a portal by chance?" (Y/n) yelps as they sit up causing Clementine to jump.

Loren nods and taps "We have two compasses. One will lead you home and the other here. Please come back. We'd like to see you more as we're not able to go to the overworld. It get's quite lonesome down here."

(Y/n) nods and smiles as they pull on the fresh clothes the three of them had given. As Loren hands one compass (Y/n) realizes that the three of them have matching golden rings adorning their ring fingers.

-----

As (y/n) gets out of the portal they're greeted by a confused/concerned Eret. "(Y/n)? Where've you been?" They ask bewildered. (Y/n) frowns slightly and asks "Honestly no idea. But where's Tubbo and Tommy- wait I still haven't made a hous- nevermind." They look down to Eret and ask "so what's happened? I've probably missed something?" Eret shifts uncomfortably before saying.

"Uh so L'manberg was blown up everybody lost a life. Part from me and a few others. I don't remember who thought. Tommy has 1 life left I think." He trails off before turning the other way and murmurs "I betrayed them. (Y/n) I helped kill them. I've been dubbed a traitor."

(Y/n) nods understandingly "Hm. Well, if you did what you think is right then that's on you. If they're calling you a tratoir then so be it. I'll still stick by your side." Eret smiles slightly and says "You said you needed to make a house? Do you need supplies?" (Y/n) shakes their head before replying "Nah I'll get that stuff myself. I'll go visit Philza."

"By the way. Nice outfit." Eret says.

(Y/n) scans their outfit taking in the outfit for the first time. A purple shawl-type thing with golden detail over a pale off-whitedress shirt with poofy teardrop-shaped sleeves, tucked into black pants and blackish boots. Glancing at their arms they realize that they're wearing marble patterned like gloves. Affecticivly protecting them against the sun, and any harsh weather.

Tapping the air infront of themself they click onto 'Main menu'

There's a suck before a sudden 'Pop'

As they sit in an empty blank room they scroll through the options of 'Servers' eventually there gaze lands upon a server and seeing Philza's name amount the others They click.

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

We Don’t Know Whats Out There

Description: 

Stiles can't sleep, and if he told enough people that was all it was, maybe he would start to believe it. Still, as tensions were rising about them losing their territory he couldn't bother them with something he didn't even fully understand. Maybe he just needed something fun and easy to help him relax. Like the hot neighbor that he keeps catching staring at him.

Derek can't sleep, and if he cleans his house enough maybe people won't realize how he doesn't care enough to clean up other parts of his life. Still, as he worried about his job and obligations, he couldn't let them down about finding a place they belonged. Maybe he just needed something interesting to keep his mind off of it. Like the clumsy man he can't keep his eyes off of.

This is for @sterek-bingo I used the tags overworked, insomnia, and neighbors. Around 20,000 words.

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

Derek threw his keys on the counter and sighed heavily when he heard them clatter to the floor. In the darkness of his apartment with the dull yellow light from the street lamp outside he could see them pathetically on the floor. He decided to leave them as he headed for his bed, it wasn't worth the effort.

He sluggishly took off his uniform. He placed his BHPD badge on his dresser as he yawned. It had been a long day and an even longer and stressful night. He had come in at one on his day off to help out and the next thing he knew he was helping the sheriff track an omega through the woods at one in the morning.

Now two hours later, he was finally able to strip down to his boxers to crawl into bed. He knew he should take a shower, but he was just so tired. The tired that goes right down to your bones.

He laid on his side staring into the darkness.

His cruiser needed a tune up soon. He should have gotten bagels for the morning so the sheriff wouldn't eat the leftover cinnamon rolls in the break room. He needed more coffee grounds soon too.

He turned onto his back and looked at the dark ceiling.

He closed his eyes. He laid in the darkness for several minutes.

He sighed as he whipped the blanket off.

"Tomorrow is going to suck ass." He spoke to the empty room as he swung his legs over the side of his bed.

He padded into the kitchen and turned on the light. He was met with the sight of a mountain of dishes from the previous lasagna night.

A blur of black fur jumped on to the counter.

Derek smiled and reached out to pet it. "Might as well, huh Lucian?"

Both the name and cat came from Cora. She had picked up the cat while traveling and it didn't get along with her beloved dog nor her girlfriend, so it had to go. When she called him to vent about having to bring him to a shelter Derek had immediately volunteered to drive all the way to pick him up.

Lucian meowed loudly in protest as Derek reclaimed his hand to start running the water.

He yawned once again, but knew he wouldn't get any sleep even if he did lay down. He cleaned the dishes as Lucian perched on the breakfast bar with his black tail slowly swishing side to side.

It was a half hour later by the time he had tamed the messy kitchen and only had a few more dishes to do. His shoulders ached and his eyelids drooped, he longed for sleep he knew he wouldn't get anytime soon.

As he let the pans soak, he went around the house collecting dishes.

He had forgotten a plate on the balcony and as he retrieved it, he caught sight of a light on in the apartments across the street. It was a corner apartment like his own, but this one had two windows. One was facing the woods at the back of their buildings, the other faced Derek's balcony and the alley between them. He set the plate down again on the railing as he took in the sight of a man. It looked like a youngish man, late twenties at the oldest, waving his arms around wildly while pacing in front of a desk in the corner of the room that looked out both windows. He was talking so adamantly Derek almost wanted to listen in. He decided against breaking the man's privacy and just watched. The man had a Batman shirt on and what looked to be matching bright yellow booty shorts on.

A small smile found its way to Derek's face.

The man looked to be practically shouting, for a moment Derek was worried he was shouting at someone, but then the man held up a large rubber duck and pointed an accusing finger at it.

Derek let out a full body laugh.

The man threw the duck with a triumphant grin and ran to his desk, which was facing the window Derek was looking in.

It was hard to make out features from across the street, but he could tell the intense concentration as the man tapped his computer keys rapidly.

Suddenly the man tipped his head forward and banged it against his laptop a few times. He leaned his head all the way back with what must've been a long groan.

Derek wanted to bring the man a cup of tea to soothe his frazzled state, and well, if he also wanted to leave a few marks on that long pale bared throat, that was only in his mind. Derek leaned against the railing to settle.

The man finally looked back up at his computer and muttered a few words. He ran his hands through his chestnut hair, making it stick up haphazardly.

Derek wished he could see the man more clearly, be able to see if he had any wrinkles from how expressive he was. See if he looked as rumpled as he seemed. See if those brown eyes looked as enchanting as he felt like they would. If those eyes w-

The eyes that squinted up at him. The eyes that looked directly at Derek.

He quickly stood up nearly knocking the plate over the side, but catching it at the last second.

When he looked back up he could see the man was bright red.

Derek quickly moved to go back inside and fumbled with the door. The stupid latch always stuck so he had to jiggle it for a moment before he could flee into his apartment.

He closed the curtain behind him and let out a breath. His cheeks were hot at being caught.

He quickly shrugged it off and finished the rest of the dishes trying to not think of the man catching him perving.

---

Stiles raced down the sidewalk trying not to bump into people. As he turned a sharp corner he banged his elbow which made him jump back and shove his computer bag into a very unhappy man.

"Solwry." He mumbled around the papers he was currently slobbering on.

He stumbled slightly as he looked down to shove them in his bag. He looked up and nearly was squashed by the door opening in front of him.

"Whoa! Sorry." He gave the exiting couple a nervous wave.

He entered the cafe with panting breath and his computer bag snagged then hit the wall with a bang.

Everyone in the cozy coffee shop looked up at him.

"Sorry!" His eyes scanned the crowd. "Sorry I'm late."

His father looked at him with an exasperated fond look. "Ten minutes Stiles. I only have a thirty minute lunch break."

Stiles scoffed as he sat down in the corner booth. "You're the boss. Who's coming up to you like," His voice went stern and low as he frowned. "You were ten minutes late coming back from your lunch." He added a wag of his finger to be dramatic.

The sheriff laughed. "Hale would. He's about as upright and lawful as they come. He wouldn't be insubordinate, but he would point it out to be a shit. Anyway it's about setting an example."

Stiles rolled his eyes. He'd heard many stories about Hale before. He was glad that his dad had someone like that to watch his back, but he put him up on such a pedestal. Stiles was worried that when they finally did the meeting his dad was pushing for so hard, he would introduce the wrong man as son.

"Yeah well, tell Hale to take that stick out of his ass." Stiles said before gulping down the molten sugary drink before him.

Stiles frowned. "Did you not get my text?"

"I did, but if I can't have fries you can't have a triple shot." His father looked smug until he took in his son's appearance. "Jesus kid! When's the last time you slept?"

"Counting the time I closed my eyes in the shower too long and almost lost my balance?"

His father didn't look impressed.

"I know, I know. I've just got this really big project right now. The client doesn't care when it's done, it's just really frustrating work. There are so many things going wrong that aren't easily fixed, and I can't figure them out. All these little problems keep popping up and as soon as I figure them out I think I can go to sleep, but then something goes wrong and I ca-"

"You can't just leave well enough alone. When there's a problem your brain won't let you sleep till you fix it." He had a faint smile. "Your mom was eight months pregnant when we bought your crib. We got home from the store exhausted, so we said we'd put it together in the morning. When your mother woke up I was passed out on your nursery floor surrounded by the shreds of the directions and your crib looked just like the display. You're so much like her, but you got some things from me."

Stiles smiled at him. "I've never heard that story before."

He shrugged. "That was back when I didn't think that moment would be important. Back when I thought we would have so many more the little ones wouldn't count."

He had that wistful sad look in his eyes, but a smile on his face. Stiles was grateful for how far they had come. Neither of them were able to even mention her for so long, to be talking freely in public meant the world to Stiles.

His father reached a hand across the table and he took it. He looked at him concerned. "Stiles, are you happy?"

Stiles plastered on too wide of a smile. "You don't have to worry about me pops."

He shook his head. "I always worry about you. I know you said you're good at this programming job, but I still think you should give that FBI offer another try. It was your dream job! You could consult from here, while still being in on the big cases. You'd use your education and degree. It was perf-"

Stiles put his hands up with an uneasy look. "I know dad. But I am good at the progra-"

His father cut him off just like he had to him. "I know you're good at it. Hell you're smart enough to be an astrophysicist if you damn well pleased. Stiles you're good at a lot. And anything you aren't, you've got enough drive and brains to keep at it till you are the world's leading expert." His father gave him a considering look and then deflated. "I won't push you on this today, but one of these days you're going to have to tell me what happened. Stiles you were mooning after that job since the end of high school. Then, you were bummed about having to give it up because you had to move home after college to help me and Scott with all the mumbo jumbo. But now, they offered you an at home position and you can't be bothered with it. I just don't understand, hell I don't even know if you do. I just hope you aren't doing this programming thing because for some reason you think you couldn't do what you really want to."

Stiles sighed. That wasn't it, but he was getting closer. Eventually he would have to explain to his dad and Scott what happened, but he'd have to figure it out himself first though.

"I love you for caring, but I can handle it. And I am really good at this, besides Danny's company needed the help." That was true when it started, but now Danny didn't need his help and they both knew it.

"I just want whatever will make you happy." His father squeezed his hand, then let go.

"My work is great for where I'm at right now."

The conversation switched over to the omega Stiles had narrowed down the possible hideouts for as they got their food.

They parted ways with a hug when his father went back to work.

---

Stiles got out his computer and tried to solve the problem he hit the night before.

Thinking back he wondered if he should have mentioned his stalker neighbor to his father. He dismissed the thought with a snort and got to work.

---

Erica's laugh was so loud he had to move the phone away from his ear.

"And you just went inside?"

Derek called her in his patrol car on lunch to try and get rid of the awkwardness of the previous night.

"What else would I have done? Shouted over, 'Hey sorry for watching you for a creepy amount of time. You just looked cute.' No, I fled like a normal person."

She cackled again. "You should take over some muffins, and then bang him."

Derek choked on his sandwich.

"I'm serious. You need to unwind. Nothing like a good dick to get you to relax."

Derek's cheeks went red. "Erica! I haven't even met him."

"So introduce yourself first. I'm like two weeks away from dragging you to The Jungle myself."

"You're worse than my sisters."

Derek's face went wide with horror at his slip up.

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yes."

She smelled blood in the water. "You haven't!"

"Erica no! Don't even think about it! Erica?" He looked at his phone to see she hung up. He banged his head against his wheel. "You never learn Hale." He would definitely have a couple texts from his sister's by night.

---

Derek had soon enough forgotten about that night after his sister's pokes faded.

He had a quiet week, till tonight that is.

He kicked off his boots not caring where they went.

Half the department had been chasing down a, supposedly, kidnapped teen. When Derek finally sniffed out the end of the trail that lead all over town, the scent of the boy was closely intertwined with marijuana.

He got ready for bed in a haze and the stress of the day finally hit like a weight on his chest. He had been so scared he wouldn't find the boy in time. He was so scared he would have to tell a frantic mother that he found her boy, but it was too late.

He finally realized why the sheriff had gripped his shoulder in a grounding squeeze like they hadn't found him in time while asking if he was alright. It was for this moment. The moment when it all became real. When he realized there was a boy they thought was in trouble and it would've been on them if he wasn't found. It was his job to get him back safely. It happened this time, but the sheriff knew this would come. He'd probably had moments just like this so many times.

Moments of staring at the ceiling and wondering what if. Wondering and imagining the worst, all the while blaming yourself for outcomes that didn't even happen.

Derek sighed and got out of bed. He wouldn't get any sleep with the mood he was in. It was much too somber and contemplative. He figured it had been awhile since he dusted his apartment anyway.

He worked silently while thinking intensely. He had a few morbid thoughts and decided he needed to get some fresh air to clear the dust clogging his lungs and cluttering his eyes. He opened the sliding door to his balcony, but soon enough the night's chill beckoned him out.

It was a welcome sensation on his skin. He breathed in the fresh air for a few moments before he caught sight of a familiar window lit up.

This time the man was sat at his computer furiously typing with headphones on. The man lifted a frankly unlawfully big coffee mug and tipped it completely. He rattled the mug before lifting it to his ear. The man seemed to freeze for a moment before shaking his head while setting it down.

Derek chuckled as he rubbed his hands down his face and slapped his cheeks.

The man must've been up for too long. As if to prove his point he yawned and pushed himself away from the computer. He grabbed the giant mug and disappeared from Derek's view. He came back a few moments later with the mug filled to the brim. He settled back into his groove.

Derek liked watching the man's gestures and how expressive he was, even if Derek couldn't make out all of his facial movements. He only felt slightly creepy for thinking of grabbing his pair of binoculars. Okay, he felt really creepy for that.

The man lifted the coffee to his lips while still typing and burned himself.

Derek could tell he was screaming cuss words.

In jerking back from the sensation the man spilled coffee all over his lap and he jumped up while patting his legs.

Derek was already highly amused and smiling broadly, but when the man left to get a towel only to be yanked back by his headphones he barked out loud laughter.

The man came back, now in black instead of blue sweatpants and looked to be shutting down his computer. The man stretched and Derek could tell his shirt rode up slightly. He was distractedly trying to look at him. When his shirt fell back down he looked back to his face.

One that was now pointed towards where his light was on and he was once again staring creepily.

Derek shot up and was thankful he had left his door open so he could just slip right inside without the wait.

Derek mentally kicked himself as he decided to just lay down, so he wouldn't be tempted to peek out his curtains to see if the man was calling his co-workers. God that'd be embarrassing. Parish would laugh his ass off if he got that call.

After a few moments thinking about the man he fell asleep with a smile remembering the hilarity of his sleepy mistake.

---

Lydia spooned the last of her dressing onto her salad. "And the guy just went back inside?"

"Yeah. He seemed embarrassed both times, but I don't know if I should tell my dad. On the one hand sheriff dad scaring off creepy guy, yay. On the other worried dad shooting creep."

She tilted her head in consideration. "Keep an eye out for him. If it becomes more of a problem or if he makes you uncomfortable then tell him."

"I don't know, I've never see him out there other nights. He doesn't really make me uncomfortable. I guess he's probably just curious about the weirdo up and three."

She laughed. "Probably. And what did I say about getting proper sleep? You'd get laid more often if you ever left your house not looking like a sleep deprived troll."

"Really feeling the love Lyds."

She narrowed her eyes and pointed her fork at him. "You know it's true. I didn't move back to Beacon Hills just for you to get us all murdered because you fell asleep researching and got us the wrong info. You need sleep, you insomniac workaholic." She stabbed a piece of chicken and stuffed it in her mouth menacingly.

"Has that ever happened?"

She swallowed and was undeterred. "No, but you need to be especially on your toes now. We all do. With this Malikhai pack circling we cannot show weakness. They're already sowing doubt about Scott's hold on Beacon's territory. Everyone concerned knows he didn't steal shit, but if they bend enough ears it could be a problem. A big one at that meeting in two months."

He nodded. "You're right. I'll get more sleep."

She assessed him, then shook her head. "You aren't going to do shit. You're restless and won't let anybody help you."

He considered her words. "Sometimes you're scary with how much you know."

She laughed as she gathered her things and dropped money for their lunch. "That's cute. I'm always scary because of how much I know. Kisses."

He waved at her bouncing curls.

---

The third time it happened Stiles could hardly blame him. He should've closed his curtains, but he loved being able to look outside. Even as he was dancing wildly to ABBA at four in the morning while in his boxers. In his defense though, how else are you supposed to organize your house?

Stiles had just finished quite literally boogieing to dancing queen when he looked up and saw that light on again. They both stared for a brief moment. Stiles had no idea what made him do it, but he did a tiny wave. Which the man returned hesitantly. Stiles smiled and it seemed like the man did as well. It was already hard to tell from the distance, but the man also had dark, albeit hot, facial hair.

He was just about to turn when the man started to clap. It confused Stiles for a second, until he realized the applause was for his performance. He bowed dramatically and when he straightened he was met with the sight of laughter. The man pointed back to his apartment before once again waving.

Stiles waved back and in a mindless moment blew a kiss.

He instantly internally panicked.

The man looked confused and he turned half way back to his door before reaching out his hand and catching the kiss. He then rushed inside.

Stiles' joyful insomniac energy was burst and he hid under his covers till he eventually fell asleep.

---

"He blew you a kiss?!"

Derek's voice was muffled by the counter it was pressed against, but it sounded vaguely affirmative.

"And you caught it."

This time the yes sounded more distressed.

Erica patted his back as she let out vigorous laughter.

When she finally settled down she offered, "Well, maybe he won't think you're as weird because he's weird too."

"Thanks for your comfort." He said deadpan.

She responded in kind. "I'm here for you in this difficult time." She steered the conversation back to her weekend plans with little consideration.

---

The only reasons he took night shift were because it was understaffed and if something supernatural happened he needed to be there anyway, but now he was thinking of adding so he could look to see if the light across the way was on.

These last few weeks he didn't linger, but he still smiled when he got home to see that light burning just like his own. He would check and some how that was enough. On the two nights he had stayed until he was caught it was no longer awkward. The man had just looked up and they waved before Derek left. Another night Derek just listened to the man's heartbeat and his soft mutters as he washed his floors.

He knew it was creepy, but something about the man was just...

Comforting.

Derek realized it was comforting to come home and have someone there.

God when had he gotten so lonely that a complete stranger waving at him from across the street felt intimate.

It was soothing, he supposed, to come home after a hard day to see that you weren't the only weary soul too tired to sleep. To know you weren't the only one battling things in the dark.

Derek set his wallet and keys on the table with a yawn. It wasn't an eventful day whatsoever. He had done nothing but paperwork and battle his drooping eyelids. He had been so tired all day, but now that he was home his mind jumped from one thing to another. After he got changed he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and decided to sit on the balcony. Might as well see what his neighbor was up to.

The light was on, but the man wasn't in sight.

Derek sat enjoying the calm night air while drinking his beer.

Just as he was starting to get worried, the man paced past in a flurry.

His arms were flailing and his lips were moving a mile a minute. Derek looked with fondness for a few moments. Then he noticed how heavily and fast the man's chest was heaving.

Something looked wrong. His movements, while normally clumsy, were erratic instead. Almost frantic. Derek knew it was not okay to listen in on the man under normal circumstances, but the man looked about ready to burst into tears.

"You're okay. Stop freaking out. Stop. Ju-just stop. Y-you're ok-kay. Just s-stop!"

The man looked down at his fingers and looked to be counting them. He then looked around his flat to name items with different colors.

Oh.

The man was having a panic attack.

The sheriff had taught them all different methods to calm someone having one, in case they encountered it on a case. The rainbow method was one. The man was trying to calm himself down.

The man repeated that he was okay over and over.

Derek listened to his heartbeat hammer. He needed to calm down or he would pass out. Derek knew he was on the third floor so he'd just have to figure out which apartment number.

He was just about to turn to go inside when the man ran to his desk and fumbled with his phone.

Derek felt a small amount of disappointment, but it was quickly pushed down. He was happy the man was getting help, even if it wasn't him. Besides how weird would that have been. 'Hey I'm your neighbor I heard you having a panic attack from across the street so I decided to find your apartment.'

The line rang for a long time and Derek hoped the person answered and was able to help.

Derek wasn't able to hear the other voice, but he could hear the man's. "Scott. P-panic a-t-t-" The man tried to force air into his lungs.

He didn't talk anymore, but he looked to be listening intently and he nodded his head even though the man on the line couldn't see it.

"B-better. But I- I'm still shaking." The man held up his shaking hand as if to prove it.

Derek listened to his heartbeat. It was no longer thudding, but it was still fast.

"No you d-don't have to. You're already on y-your way?" The man sighed, but went out of sight and Derek heard his door unlocking.

They stayed on the line until a car approached, headlights almost blinding on the empty dark street.

An obviously sleep ruffled puppy of a man got out and walked around to the building's entrance.

Derek heard knocking.

"What's the password?"

There was a sigh. "Rubber baby butter beans." The door unlatched.

Derek stifled a laugh.

Derek heard a muffled thanks and figured the man's face was pressed tightly into a hug.

They both walked in the view of the window and Derek got a little better of a look at the stranger. He looked like he could be handsome, but from this distance it was hard to tell.

He was too busy focusing on the man's face he didn't catch their conversation. Soon enough the lights went out and he heard two people settling into bed. The man's heartbeat had settled slightly, but his breaths still had a few hitches.

"Focus on my breathing. Feel my chest move. We're safe here. I've got you."

Derek started to wonder if maybe they were together. A boyfriend would be more inclined to get out of bed to check on someone than a friend. But then again if he called Erica in the middle of the night she'd break his door down. Maybe they were just friends. Then again, the magenta, purple, and blue flag hanging on the man's wall had Derek wondering.

When he first saw it, it had made him glad, but now it caused a rolling in his stomach. It was ridiculous, he shouldn't be jealous over a neighbor he hadn't even met!

He decided to go inside and clean Lucian's litter box then organize his bookshelves.

He was deeply engrossed in a book by the time he heard movement on the street. He decided to put his book down to check it out.

"Thanks for tonight Scotty."

The stranger, Scott, got his keys out of his pocket as they hugged. "Yeah yeah. You know you can call me whenever."

The man stuck his hands in his pj pants pockets. "Yeah well, still tell Alli sorry for stealing her boyfriend."

Scott grinned. "We all know I'm both of yours."

The man let out an obnoxiously loud laugh for the quiet morning. "True. Now get out of here. Don't want to keep Mr. Cryptic boss waiting. Love you bro."

"Love you too." The man started his car and Derek realized he was dressed for the day. He must've borrowed some clothes. Or maybe he has a drawer.

Derek's head was starting to hurt trying to figure out what their relationship was. He had said both of yours, like he was both of their boyfriend. Maybe they were poly? But then why hadn't this Alli come too? Maybe they were just friends and it was a joke.

Derek got into bed still trying to figure it out, but drifted swiftly after thinking of his loud laughter. It was an oddly soothing sound.

He wanted to hear it more often.

---

Stiles spread the burgers and fries out on the counter. "Oh please, iron man's ass is forged of metal. Cap's is pure squats and muscle."

Scott pinched the skin of the kitten's neck. "You mean, pure super soldier serum." Scott gave it it's shot before soothing the kitten.

Stiles waved a fry at him. "But still muscle. The serum just amplified his muscle definition. But it is still muscle, and there for, it is America's true ass."

"What about Deadpool? He's got a good ass. What about him?"

Stiles snorted. "For starters? He's Canadian."

Scott tilted his head. "Oh yeah."

Stiles rubbed the grease and salt from his hands on to his jeans. He tried to sneak a few fries from Scott's, but he looked over.

"Hey! Paws to yourself! Those are mine."

Stiles stuck out his tongue and grabbed his burger instead. "Best super hero ass hands down is Dick Grayson."

Scott softly placed the kitten back in the pen and grabbed another. "No way. Black canary all the way."

Stiles scoffed. "Sure, bud."

Scott gave the last kitten it's shot before washing up to eat. "That isn't what I called you here to talk about though."

Stiles raised and eyebrow. "What. No way. You didn't call me here to debate superhero glutes?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about next month."

Stiles took a huge bite so he didn't have to respond.

"This is important." Scott tried to meet his eyes, but Stiles avoided him. He sighed. "What is the matter with you lately dude? We all agreed as a pack, we need this meeting to go well. If we are going to hold Beacon as McCall- Stilinski territory, next month is important. Why does it seem like you're checking out?" Scott focused on his face. "Are you okay? If something is wro-"

"I'm okay Scott. You don't have to worry about me. I'll get my head in the game before then, I've just had some personal shit going on."

He gave him a sad look. "I miss the days when your personal was mine."

Stiles looked down. There was a pit in his stomach as his throat dried. "I know Scotty, but I will tell you, eventually. I just need to work some stuff out."

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you're working anything out. I think you're just keeping things to yourself because you don't want to worry anybody."

Stiles mindlessly stirred his ketchup with a fry.

"But you are. You are worrying us. We just want to help."

"I know." Stiles met his eyes. "We'll deal with the Malikhai pack and their challenge of our territory first. Derek Hale is one of my dad's newer deputies. He brought two other betas with him from New York. They talked and Laura is still their alpha, so the Malikhai pack doesn't have grounds for a refusal because Derek is just a beta. Even if this has been Hale territory for centuries, with Laura setting up a pack in New York, Beacon is forfeit unless a Hale alpha shows up to claim it."

"What if Laura shows up to challenge us?"

Stiles shook his head. "Derek told my dad she isn't interested in Beacon. She gave her word she never intends to take Beacon for her territory as long as we take care of it. She thinks we're doing well enough from what she's heard."

Scott nodded. "Let's go over the protocol again."

Stiles gathered his trash. "You'll be fine, but if you want we can."

---

Derek reached for the bottle of wolfsbane laced whiskey in the back of his cabinet. His eyes had already healed from the puffy state his call with Laura and Cora had left them in, but he felt new tears at the back of his eyes.

A family had left a roast in the oven overnight, accidentally on high, but thankfully it was called in soon enough. Fire calls usually left him shaken, but there was a little girl that looked exactly like Cora. She was coughing the smoke from her lungs that also clung to her clothes and hair and soon enough Derek was the one unable to breathe. He tried to hide his claws and fangs and closed his eyes when they flashed red. He didn't know how long it was before he felt the sheriff's arms wrap around him and send him home, but after his phone calls it was now three in the morning.

He refilled his glass and went to get changed. He struggled with his pants already feeling the alcohol, wolfsbane made the effect almost instant. By the time he had finished getting changed he needed to find the bottle again.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw the frightened ones of the little girl. It was times like this he longed to feel the shift take over and get in a much more simple state of mind, a much more primal one. It felt like the smoke was in him and the flames were licking his face. He needed air.

He went to the balcony and like he knew it would be, that light was on.

The man was hard at work, tapping away at his computer. He was chewing a pen cap in-between his teeth as he focused intently on his screen.

Derek wanted the man to look at him. To notice him so he wasn't alone. He wanted to feel like he was seen and his pain was normal.

He had moved back from New York because everything was just too impersonal. You could fade into the city and no one would ever know you were gone. But a small part of him hoped that the man would notice if he never had his light on at an ungodly hour again. He wished that someone cared about him like he was important.

Derek hung halfway off the balcony as he began to frantically wave. He sloshed his almost empty whiskey as he flung his arms out.

Eventually the man looked up. He hesitantly waved and Derek raised his glass to him.

The man laughed and raised his coffee mug in return.

Derek laughed finding it funnier than it was. He got an idea and before he could think about it he held out his flat palm with his other fist placed atop it. He moved both hands forward in question.

The man looked confused and shrugged.

Derek thrust his hands out again, and then he pounded his fist three times on top of his palm.

The man laughed and mirrored his hands.

They pounded their fists in unison, and on the third beat Derek held up rock and the man held up paper. The man pumped his hands in victory. Derek threw both arms out in mock defeat. Derek watched the man throw back his head in a laugh with rapt attention. He held up a finger to tell him to wait before pushing his computer chair away.

Derek wanted to tell him not to leave, but soon enough he was back. He held up something to the window, it looked like marker. He uncapped it and began writing on the window backwards. He made two columns, one labeled, me. And the other, you. He put a tally mark under the me column before setting the marker down.

By the end of the night Derek could barely see the man with all the marks on the window. He had his computer chair pushed away as he leaned over his desk to get closer to count them. The man won by two points and he did a victory dance. The man acted like a wave was passing through his arms and he pointed it at Derek. He was just drunk enough that he pretended to continue it with a sad excuse of a robot.

Derek could almost hear the man's laughter ringing in his ears as he laid down to sleep. He fell asleep picturing his wide grin and cute dance.

---

Cora's laughter was booming. Laura spoke in a consoling tone, "Oh Derbear. You did your robot?"

Derek just groaned at her.

Cora spoke with no mercy, "Your robot sucks ass."

"I am aware, devil spawn. Well, sober me is."

"Hey call me devil spawn all you'd like, I'm not the one that scarred their cute neighbor with the abomination that is you dancing."

"Laura tell her to stop. Order her to be nicer, use the eyes."

"Sorry lil bro. She's right."

"Ugggh." Derek groaned into his pillow. "You both are terrible."

---

Derek tried to avoid the balcony out of shame for the next week.

The loud banging in the alley drew his attention before he could remember to stay inside. For a second he didn't see anything below, but then a trashcan tipped over and circled before a plump raccoon crawled out. Derek looked up, relieved it hadn't been someone trying to break in. He didn't want to have to deal with that tonight. He saw that light on and inside the man's head was tipped down still looking at the raccoon.

He looked more distressed than normal. Mugs stacked around his desk and there were papers strewn about. His hair was frazzled and he had tension in his shoulders. Derek wondered what stressed him so much. Maybe it was his job, he could have an upcoming deadline. Maybe he w-

He was staring back up at him.

The man brightened and waved enthusiastically. Derek waved back.

There was a pause.

Derek tried to mime that now that he had checked out the alley, and it was just raccoons he was going to head back to bed. But the man looked confused at his gestures. It probably looked like he was trying to make shadow puppets. He pointed a thumb back at his apartment and the man looked down. Derek started to move back reluctantly. He felt so rude, like he was leaving in the middle of a conversation, but he was also still embarrassed.

The man grabbed something from across his desk. He held up the orange marker. Derek stood there considering for a moment. The man took that as a no and set the marker down.

"Don't do it Hale." He whispered to himself.

He held up his hands and the man energetically moved to get ready.

They played till something drew the man's attention to his computer. He held up a hand to motion for Derek to wait.

He clicked for a few moments before pointing to his computer. Derek nodded and settled into a chair while pulling out his phone.

Derek's attention was drawn back upwards when he saw a fast movement. He looked up to be met with the sight of catastrophe. There were papers spewing out of the man's printer at an unearthly rate. The man was shouting and waving for the printer to stop. He jabbed at a few buttons, but to no avail. The printer just kept going and in one final power move the man unplugged the machine. It stilled and he sagged with relief.

The man looked up at Derek. Derek finally absorbed the situation and burst out laughing. The man quickly joined in. Once they had calmed down he gathered the papers and shook his head at them. He closed down his computer and span his chair in a circle before meeting Derek in their next match.

Derek won the night and the man put a little mark on the top window opposite to an identical mark.

So this was a thing. The man clearly expected to play again. He expected to play enough games where they would need to keep track on the window. Maybe this would be their thing. Rock, paper, scissors from across the street.

Derek got cozy in bed as a warm feeling settled in his chest. It was nice to have something, some sort of connection to someone. This was the sort of thing he missed in New York. He missed helping little old ladies at the grocery store and talking to neighbors while getting the mail. He missed seeing the same face multiple times just going to the bank. In the city everything was constantly changing, shifting. Derek just always felt like backdrop rather than a person. He missed being a part of a community. He missed feeling like he made an impact.

He supposed that's why he joined the PD. To help people. Feeling like he helped someone was the best thing to Derek. He wanted to have people around him and to be able to take care of them. No matter how close he was to his sisters, traveling never felt settled enough, and Laura's pack felt solid enough without him. He didn't have an integral place with either of them that truly felt like his own. He'd been back in Beacon hills for months now, and a couple games of rock, paper, scissors and an over protective boss was as close as he got to finding a place he belonged. No matter how much he saw them getting closer or he enjoyed his job, his co-workers were still just work friends and his job wasn't going to make him feel fulfilled.

He wanted someone to belong to. Someone that felt like home.

He drifted off wondering how soon he would meet someone like that for him, or if he already had.

---

Allison looked at Scott concerned. "Stiles, you sound pretty gone."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "He gave you a pen and I had to convince him to not propose the next time he saw you. I think me having a crush on my neighbor/rock, paper, scissors pal/stalker is sane in comparison."

She gave him a, 'Yeah keep telling yourself that.' look.

"I think if it makes you happy you should do it. You know how to take care of yourself. Maybe you're soulmates."

Allison rolled her eyes.

Stiles slung an arm around Scott's neck. "See, this is why you're my best friend. You always support me."

Scott beamed.

---

Derek grimaced as he tried to not smear blood on his door or walls.

He went straight to the bathroom and put his torn, soaked top right into the garbage. He turned on the water and steam started to billow into the room. He stripped and looked at the damage in the mirror.

They had been looking aimlessly for the omega for weeks now. But the night before another body was found, so they were determined. The sheriff came in with another map that had random circles on it. He had been bringing them in from his pack. Derek was glad that beacon had the McCall- Stilinski pack to look out for it, they wouldn't have been able to search even the narrowed down areas without the pack's help. The sheriff and him finally found the omega and cornered him.

Derek winced as he prodded at the claw mark across his side.

The omega had been able to get in a few surprise attacks before Derek fought back.

He stepped under the spray and let out a content grumble, happy to have the omega's blood swirling down the drain instead of sticking to his skin. He washed away the day and was satisfied that they had finally dealt with the wayward wolf.

He turned off the water wanting to collapse into bed, but still having a little bit of adrenaline left from the fight.

He decided to check in on his neighbor before bed. He threw on a pair of sweatpants before padding out to the balcony.

After his hot shower the air outside raised the hair on the back of his neck and arms. His eyebrows pulled together once he saw the blinds closed with the light on. He could see the silhouette of the man sitting at his chair.

That was odd. He never closed his blinds. Maybe he didn't want to see Derek anymore. Maybe he weirded him out. The man seemed happy to see him last time. Derek shouldn't feel this hurt, this shut out. It just felt like they were building a relationship, even if they just played a game.

Maybe he was just embarrassed about the printer thing, like Derek had been. Or maybe he was having more computer problems.

That thought brought conflicting emotions. First, it brought a smile, but then he thought about how easy it was for the man to be able to shut him out.

Maybe he was in trouble. He doubted it, but maybe. Derek had a worrying thought. What if the man was having another panic attack, but he didn't want him to see?

Derek internally debated for a moment longer before deciding to just listen in to check on him.

He focused and could hear the man's heartbeat thumping rapidly. His breathing was shallow and fast.

Derek panicked. Why wasn't he calling his friend?

There were sounds of movement that Derek couldn't make out.

He heard breathing sounds that sounded like they were coming from his computer and Derek was puzzled. Was the man trying some breathing exercises to calm down? He heard an extended groan and Derek's eyes widened.

Oh.

He heard a loud breathy moan that faded off into a needy whine and his face flamed.

Oh.

That was why his blinds were closed. Derek heard more decidedly not breathing exercise noises from the man's computer. Now that he knew what it was Derek could easily tell exactly what the noise of movement was from. There was a gasp then a guttural moan. Derek quickly blocked out the noise again and he scurried inside like he was the one caught jerking off.

He laid in bed with red ears. He closed his eyes to fall asleep, but he kept replaying the sounds over and over. He let out a frustrated groan before pulling his pillow over his face like that would muffled the noise in his head. The man's moans had gotten to him more than he'd like to admit. It would be very uncomfortable to fall asleep now.

He threw the pillow off and muttered, "Oh for God's sake!" Before shoving a hand past his waistband.

Later he fell asleep feeling satisfied, content, and very embarrassed.

---

Erica practically cackled off the couch and even Boyd cracked a small smile.

"Oh God Hale, only you!"

Derek stabbed his spoon into his ice cream and it clinked harshly against the ceramic. "How was I supposed to know! That he was..."

Erica gleefully finished his sentence. "Masturbating?"

Derek looked down to hide his burning face. "Can you stop enjoying my pain please?"

"Nu-uh I'm your friend. I have to make you more embarrassed. It's my job."

He scowled at her and she stuck her tongue out.

She spoke through a bite of cookies and cream, "What did you do after you realized what he was doing?"

"I went inside and I..." He avoided looking at her.

"You what?" She looked at him and then at Boyd's smirking face. "You didn't!" She asked shocked. She laughed at him again.

He groaned and forcefully stirred his ice cream.

"Oh my God, you so did!"

---

Stiles couldn't breathe.

Correction, the breath entering his lungs left just as fast as it entered. He could breathe in the same way that he could think. In a way that only made the situation worse and more panic inducing.

He needed to calm down. He tried to breathe. He tried to think about something else, but his thoughts kept circling back. He couldn't call Scott because he had a difficult surgery in the morning. If he called Allison it would wake Scott. He didn't want to call Lydia because it always freaked her out when she wasn't actually there to help. Sometimes she just made it worse no matter how much comfort she wanted to offer. Jackson was in a completely different time zone. He couldn't call his dad because he would still be on shift. Liam, Kira, and Malia all didn't know about his panic attacks and now wouldn't be the best time to have them figure it out.

He muttered to himself, "Y-you can d-d-o this." He tried to calm himself down, but knowing he didn't have anyone he could call made it worse.

He grabbed at his hair as he paced. "S-stop! S-t-top! Fuck-k!"

The tears were rushing down his face and his vision was blurred. His mind whipped in a frenzy as thoughts frantically raced.

He couldn't take it anymore. He ran over to his desk. He shoved papers trying to find his phone, but he could barely see thought the tears. He looked up and cursed, "F-fuck! Stupid f-f-fucking pho-one!" He closed his eyes harshly and when he opened them that light across the street was on.

He met eyes with his shocked pajama clad neighbor.

His mind was a torrent of thoughts. Oh God he was so stupid. This was so stupid. He was an idiot! Why! Why was he doing this right now! Why did his neighbor have to be there! He wouldn't ever want to see him again. Wh-

He went to move out of sight of the window, but his neighbor waved his hands frantically.

Stiles watched with curious eyes as his neighbor put a hand on to his chest. He slowly lifted it up and held it before placing it back on his chest again.

Stiles looked at him with curious eyes and his breathing still hammered in and out.

His neighbor repeated the motion and deeply inhaled this time.

Oh. He wanted Stiles to synch his breathing.

A small smile fought its way through all the panic and distress previously on his face. His neighbor wanted to help him, to calm him down. Even though he barely knew him he cared.

Stiles payed attention to the rhythm his neighbor set, but his breathing wouldn't calm.

More frustrated tears fell. "I-I can't." He whispered as he shook his head.

His neighbor used his other hand to gesture for him to calm down, then he paused the breathing motion to tap his own heartbeat. He resumed the breathing motion. He said something that Stiles couldn't understand.

Stiles tried again. He dug his fingernails into his palm as he tried to ground himself. He was fine. There was someone with him. They cared. He wanted him to calm down, to breathe. Just breathe. It was going to be okay. He was okay. As he thought he kept his eyes on his neighbor's moving hand.

They stood there together for several minutes.

The motion eventually soothed him into a normal breathing pattern. His tears were still falling, but his head was no longer pounding and he could breathe easily. Stiles wiped his eyes and focused on his neighbor's, which were still staring at him calmly.

His neighbor pointed at Stiles and then himself, after he pressed his pointer finger to his thumb as the rest of his fingers fanned upwards.

He smiled. He was trying to tell Stiles that they were okay. Stiles nodded and lifted his hand to copy his gesture.

His neighbor smiled and dropped his hands.

Stiles tried to convey he was sorry and moved his mouth exaggeratedly while he spoke, "Sorry."

He waved his hand in a dismissal. And once again mimed that it was okay.

Stiles was trying to figure out the best way to flee and watch Netflix, not being able to sleep, while they just stared at each other.

His neighbor tentatively raised his hands in a very familiar way.

Stiles smiled and sat on his computer chair. It was a way to pass the time. And a way to not be alone with his thoughts.

They played till the morning light invaded their hidden game. Stiles counted the tally marks and reluctantly put another tally under the you column. Stiles stuck out his tongue.

He held up a middle finger and Stiles clutched his chest with an overly shocked look. He laughed at him and Stiles smiled in return.

---

"I still wish you would've called me."

Stiles shrugged at Lydia. "I couldn't find my phone."

They both drank their smoothies while walking to the next shop in silence. She looked over at him with an assessing look.

"What?"

She only squinted further.

"What."

"Nothing. I'm just surprised he was able to calm you down like that."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I was desperate. If fricken Elmo popped up and started counting breaths with me I probably would've gone with it."

She hummed and turned back to look where she was going. "I think you should make him cookies. As a thank you. Besides, it's neighborly."

He looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you crazy?! How weird would that be? To just show up with cookies. Like, 'Hey I'm your crazy neighbor that had a panic attack and you had to spend several minutes calming me down. So thanks. Here's some double chip.' No, thank you. I will stick with rock, paper, scissors and pretending I'm not falling in love with a man I've never met."

A passing couple gaped at them, having clearly only caught the last sentence. Stiles squinted at them and they looked away quickly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Do you really want to live your life not taking chances and connecting with people? You live and work in your apartment. The only time you leave is when the pack or your dad drag you out. This guy seems sweet, albeit a bit creepy, but sweet. I think you should give it a shot. Do you really want to play rock, paper, scissors with him till one of you moves? You have no social life Stiles."

Stiles argued, "Hey I trash talk ten year olds in Halo, just fine."

She didn't react to his joke. "Stiles."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

She squinted. "Do you? Do you know what it's like to see one of your best friends waste away and not even care about their life? I don't know what the hell happened to you at college, but you didn't come back the same. At first I thought it was some left over nogitsune bullshit, but it's not. You just don't seem to care about your life. Do you know what that's like for us? For your dad?" She got a little choked up. "For me?"

Stiles pulled her into a hug and fought tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"And you won't let us help you. Why?"

Stiles kissed her head. "Because you can't. I know that's difficult to handle, but you can't. And I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin sorry Lyds."

She spoke through her tears, "We just want for you to b-"

"To be happy. I know." He rubbed his hands down her arms. "I'll try the cookies."

---

Stiles drummed fingers on the container as he waited for that light to go on. He tried to busy himself with work, but the problems that wouldn't let him sleep couldn't hold his attention.

He was staring off into space nervously chewing a pen when that light flicked on. He shot out of his seat and bulleted to the door, getting to the doorway before remembering to go back for the container.

---

Derek loved his job. He loved it. He enjoyed his work and actually looked forward to it. He liked feeling like he was doing something important. But all this week there was this itch under his collar, his badge felt heavy, and he just wanted to put his gun away. He couldn't wait to get home.

Who knows how long the man had been panicking for at the start of the week. Derek felt unease in his chest all day and night until he could get home to check on that light and the man it created a halo for. Each night they waved and if the man didn't have work to do they added another mark to the window above.

Derek was becoming worryingly dependant on their routine. He was starting to think if the man wasn't there one night his wolf wouldn't rest till he hunted him down to make sure he was safe. Derek shook his head at that thought. He had more self control than that. He kicked his boots off and flicked on his light. He unbuttoned his top button and didn't even have the patience to change first before opening the sliding door. He frowned at the light on, but the chair was empty and moving in a circle. Maybe he went to get something to drink. Derek listened to the empty flat and started to wonder if he had as much self control as he thought.

He went back inside to change.

After throwing on a pair of sweatpants he paced thinking about what could've happened. Why would've he left his light on? Maybe someone called him for something, like Scott. Maybe Derek just couldn't hear him in there for some reason. Maybe he was safe.

Or maybe someone broke in and took him.

Derek strode to his door deciding to just go over and see if he could smell distress outside his door.

He was across the room from the door when there was a knock.

Derek froze.

Who would be knocking at three am? The Erica of his mind supplied that it could be the man, naked, with flowers. He dismissed that thought as he took a deep breath through his nose as he got closer.

One man. Nervous, very, but excited. Home, like baking and happiness. Like cookies and cinnamon. There was a hint of the scent of rain and thunderstorms. There was a undercurrent of a drug. Nothing he was familiar with, so not illegal. Prescription most likely. There was a Woody scent too. Sandalwood, cedar? There was a pungent coffee and sugar scent like it was all the man consumed.

There was another, much smaller, knock.

Derek opened the door. His mouth opened and his breath was lost.

It was most definitely the man. Derek didn't need to have seen his face, he'd know that messy hair and bright cartoon pajamas anywhere. But now that he did see his face, there was no going back after seeing those wide bright brown eyes. He had moles everywhere and God those lips. Having that hair close enough he wanted to run his fingers through it, or just tug on it. Fuck, he was so gone and the man hadn't even spoken to him yet. Derek took in the man's expression, he looked terrified. He could practically hear the man's dry throat trying to swallow. He realized what his own must look like. He probably still had defensive posture. His face still scrunched in what his sister's called, 'The murder face of concentration.'

He opened his lips to talk, but the man blurted instead, "Oh god this was a terrible idea. I can't believe I did this. Why did I listen to Lydia. You were so nice to calm me down and I just show up on your doorstep like a weirdo. This was weird, this was bad. I mean look at you, god look at your arms!" The man flung out an arm vaguely at Derek. "You probably don't even eat cookies, you probably eat bullets! Lydia was so wrong. You were just being nice helping me, and I've made it weird with cookies. God how does someone even make something weird with cookies? You probably were just humoring me with the rock, paper, scissors. Just being nice, waiting till it wasn't rude to just never look over at me again. You were probably just enjoying the night out on your sick balcony, when you saw a crazy person up at three and were curious, but now the crazy person is on your doorstep. And you'll probably call the cops which would be real fuckin awkward bec-"

Derek got the sense the man could go on the entire night. And he didn't know how much he could take without finding some very boundary pushing ways of shutting him up. "I eat cookies." Derek interrupted.

The man took in a large breath. "What?"

Derek held down a smile. "I eat cookies. Not bullets."

The man seemed checked out as he nodded. "That's good."

The man stared up at him with those Bambi eyes and he had to fight the urge to let his wolf maul him. Derek lifted an eyebrow. "So... Cookies?"

The man seemed to come back to himself. "Right! So raspberry and cream cheese kolaczki cookies. My grandmother's recipe. I didn't know what you would like, so I just made the best recipe I have." He shoved the container forward.

Derek took it.

The man pointed a thumb behind himself. "Right, so I'm just going to go die in a hole and hopefully never be reminded of this again."

Derek spoke as the man moved, "You better not die. Not before you can reclaim your pride in rock, paper, scissors."

The man smiled at him and Derek swore he had never been that close to death. "I think it's clear from this encounter I didn't have any pride to begin with."

Derek smiled.

"Okay Jesus that is so unfair, so I'm going to go." He started to walk away.

"The elevator is th-"

"The other way. Yes. Thank you."

The man awkwardly saluted and tripped on the hastily put on shoes before disappearing around the corner. He exhaled and whispered, "Smooth. Real fuckin smooth."

Derek smiled and closed his door.

---

"He gave you cookies?" Erica dug in the Chinese container on the table.

"Yeah. I had to look them up, but they're some polish cookie. He gave me like two dozen."

"Where are they? I want some."

Derek ducked his head as he blushed. "I ate them."

Her mouth dropped open. "You ate two dozen cookies in two days?"

"They were really good, some of the best cookies I've ever had! And small."

She kicked him. "Dereek! Now I really want one! You really are them all?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I stress ate like half of them that night trying to figure out a way to see him again before I realized I would have to return the container."

She groaned. "You're a mess."

They ate in silence till she put her plate down. "I talked to your sisters the other day."

Derek's stomach lurched. That was never good.

"They filled me in on the meeting next month."

Derek felt unsettled.

"Why didn't you tell us? You know no matter what you do we would support you."

Derek nodded and opened his mouth.

Erica continued, "Even if your decision is stupid. And dumb. And not the right choice."

He sighed. "Erica, it's not that easy."

Her voice was sharp. "So explain it. Because to me it seems like you're shooting yourself in the foot. If you forfeit Beacon now, there will be no getting it back without forcefully taking it. You would have no claim. Laura doesn't want this land, but you could take care of it. You're building a life here. You moved back here, we followed you here. You know as long as you're here we are, but let us know if you don't see a future here. We need to know if we should put down roots or not. Boyd likes it here and I'm starting to come around to it, but if you plan on leaving we need to know."

Derek shook his head. "No matter what happened here, this is my home. This is Hale land."

"It won't be if you forfeit."

He looked down. "We are a pack of three, this is a supernatural beacon. There's no way we could protect it. I do my part at my job. Besides, I could never take this land from the McCall-Stilinski pack. They've taken care of it since we left. I couldn't do that to the sheriff and alpha McCall."

"Doesn't us not having territory make us vulnerable?"

He tilted his head from one side to the other. "Normally, yes. But the alpha and the sheriff know we're here. They have accepted our presence, so we are allowed on this property. That means we won't have any claim to it, but we will still be protected like it is ours. They could always kick us out, but as long as they don't find out I'm an alpha there shouldn't be a problem. We will be treated as accepted guests from another pack."

She nodded thinking. "And what if our pack expanded? What if Issac came back?"

"We could always work out something with them. From what we've heard they're very unorthodox. Hell, just having a true alpha and the sheriff as it's two leading members is crazy enough."

"Hm. Okay. Well, they better not find out. How did returning the dish to hot neighbor go?"

"I haven't yet."

She gaped. "What? Why not? I thought you'd be all eager to see your boy again."

"I didn't want him to think I ate them in two days."

Erica crunched a water chestnut. "But you did!"

"Yeah, but what if when I told him that, he thought I was lying and he thought I threw them away?"

She threw an egg roll at him. "Just give it back you idiot."

---

It was three nights later and Derek had decided to just go to bed. But damn Erica. Her words were ringing in his ears. He grabbed the container before pulling on his boots.

He knocked on the door and wiped his sweaty hands on his pajama pants.

He heard muffled thumping noises and a yelp from the door. There was a soft noise of surprise before Derek heard a chain sliding and the door unlocking.

The man looked as sleep deprived as always, but he had a bat loosely held in one hand. "You scared the shit out of me! The only other time another soul was at my door this late was when someone tried to break in."

Derek was alarmed.

"Don't worry. I had my bat then too." He gave it an expert twirl that didn't fit with the previously clumsy impression Derek had of him.

"And here I thought we lived in a good part of town."

The man laughed. "The bad parts tend to follow me."

"I can't imagine much of anything not wanting to follow you."

The man turned light pink. "Is that my container?"

Derek held it up. "I washed it."

The man started to reach for it. Derek tried to channel everything Erica told him. He pulled it back. The man looked at him with distrust. "I can't give this back until I get a recipe."

The man scoffed. "You bake?"

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Fair enough. But no can do. Babcia would roll over in her grave, and she's not even dead yet."

Derek laughed. "Well then, fine." He smirked in the way Erica told him to and leaned on the door frame with a forearm. "How about you give me somewhere I can go to get my sugar fix?" Derek really hoped he didn't slam the door in his face.

The man's mouth was gaping and his heart was fast. "Do you know the grocery store on fifth street?"

Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"For your sugar fix. They sell them there." The man looked earnest.

Derek straightened back up embarrassed. "Oh. Um, thanks. I-"

The man burst out laughing. Derek realized he was messing with him. "You're a shit aren't you?"

The man shrugged. "I wasn't the one that leaned up against the door frame like a douche."

"It was a little douchey wasn't it?"

The man held up his thumb and pointer close together. "Just a bit."

Derek smiled at him. "Well, there we have it. You shouldn't listen to Lydia, and I shouldn't listen to Erica."

"I knew an Erica once, definitely don't listen to her."

Derek nodded. "Well, I should give this back." He handed over the container.

"How about this, if you have more tally marks by the end of next week, I'll make a double batch just for you."

Derek nodded. "That sounds perfect. But be warned, those were some of the best cookies I've ever had. I'll bring my A game for babcia's cookies."

The man smiled. "I'd expect nothing less." The man hesitated slightly. "But if you want, if you're going to be up anyway, I have some more inside." The man bit his lip nervously.

Derek took effort to not immediately say yes far too loud. "I could definitely be persuaded with cookies. Do you have to work?"

The man shrugged. "As long as I get my stuff done he doesn't care when I work and I'm ahead. If I'm being honest I was just about to say screw work and watch Captain America."

"Which one?"

"The first one." The man tapped the container against his palm.

"That one is my favorite."

He opened his mouth before closing it. "Do you want to? If you aren't too tired, do you want to watch it?"

Derek had just finished a twelve hours shift that was so busy he barely had time to eat. "I'm never too tired for Captain America. Do you need to get some sleep?"

"I'm never too tired to see Bucky Barnes in uniform." The man smiled.

"We have that in common."

The man looked surprised. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Derek smiled. "Oh?"

The man smiled right back. "Yeah."

Derek looked into his mesmerizing eyes. "Yeah."

The man looked down and then away. "Okay, make yourself comfortable on the couch. I just have to shut down my computer and g-"

"Get the cookies." Derek supplied.

The man rolled his eyes. "You're like a child."

He shrugged.

---

Parish clapped his back. "I know yesterday was rough, but you look like shit. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Nope." Derek said with a smile.

"Damn. Why do you look so happy about it Hale?"

He shrugged. "I got cookies and watched the Captain America movies." He didn't mention how there was also hours of debate originally about the movies, but then moved to the entire MCU and then other things. That one of the many times the man flung out his arms, his brushed Derek's and if he focused he could still smell the cinnamon he originally thought came from the cookies.

Parish looked at him puzzled. "You're a weird one Hale."

---

At the end of the week they were tied and the man held up a container enticingly. They had set up the rule that whoever had the most wins by three am won. It was down to the last second and they both sped up so Derek could catch up. He ended up triumphant and the man acted being put out upon briefly before grabbing the container.

There was a knock and Derek had to count to ten, so he didn't know he was waiting at the door.

"I admit. You won it fair and square. Enjoy your cookies."

"Yeah. I definitely will. But if you wanted some, that could be arranged." Derek offered.

"I have some back at my place, but I could go for a coffee."

Derek grinned. "Coffee can be done." He held open the door.

---

"We talked about everything and nothing. He's so interesting. Just the way he thinks about things, god the way he explains himself is like porn. And fuck, his smile. His smile should be illegal. You know?" Stiles gushed.

Lydia stayed still with an expectant look on her face.

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes. His voice went low and mocking, "Lydia you were right."

"I know. So what's his name."

Stiles immediately opened his mouth before snapping it shut and his eyes widened comically.

"Don't tell me yo- Oh my god Stiles! You don't know his name?!"

Stiles rubbed his hands down his face while groaning. "Maybe he said it and I don't remember, but now it will be weird if I ask!"

"For someone so smart, you can be so dumb."

---

"Fuck Laura I don't know his name!"

Cora's laughter was a given, but sweet down to earth Toni's snickers weren't hidden even by her girlfriend's outrageous laugh.

---

He had been working on this problem for hours. The code seemingly mocking him just like his rubber duck that was now in time out. He cracked his neck and changed positions.

Stiles' smile was face splitting when he saw the brightness coming from across the street.

The man waved as he came out ten minutes later in pjs with a bowl of what Stiles assumed to be cereal.

They played a few games before Derek started to yawn. He should get to bed. He motioned that he was going to head in and the man nodded before adding a mark to his own side. Derek nearly collided with the door when it didn't open as he expected. He groan before starting to jiggle it. It wouldn't budge. If he broke it the landlord, who already didn't like him, would be angry. He patted his pockets so he could at least call Erica, but he left it inside. Great. Just great. He turned to see if the man had noticed.

Stiles was laughing his ass off. His neighbor had locked himself out. He had tears in his eyes. He calmed down and met his flat face and it set Stiles off again. This time when he calmed down his neighbor had a small smile. Stiles motioned for him to wait a moment.

Several minutes later Derek heard a rustling at his front door.

Oh great, he locked himself on his balcony, and he was getting robbed. Worst of all the man across the street probably left to get a camera.

He listened and recognized the heartbeat just as the door clicked and gave way. That mop of messy hair looked as cute as ever, even if it puzzled Derek how he knew how to pick locks. The man waved and Derek knocked on the glass before pouting out his bottom lip.

The man laughed once again.

He jiggled the door from the inside to let his neighbor back in. "Welcome to my humble abode." He said as he opened the door.

Derek ignored his comment. "Where did you learn to do that?" He nodded towards the door he closed behind himself. If this man was an international thief or something of the like Derek needed to know.

The man turned on his heels starting to walk, after throwing a suggestive at Derek. "I have a lot of talents, but I'm especially good with my hands."

Derek smirked even if he couldn't see it and walked after him. "And here I was wondering about that mouth."

The man stopped dead, and Derek collided with his back. On instinct Derek's hand went to his hip.

"Oh I'm really good with that too." Maybe it was just Derek, but it felt like the man was leaning backwards into his space.

"Yeah? Am I going to have to lock myself out again to figure out your other hidden talents?"

The man shook his head, and Derek could feel his rabbiting heartbeat. "No. A date. Next Thursday, that new Ryan Reynolds movie is out. You wanted to see it. Didn't you?" A little bit of doubt crept into that question he asked to give Derek an out.

Derek leaned in to breath on his neck. The man was intoxicating. "I want to see that movie so bad, I don't know how I am possibly supposed to wait until Thursday. I want to see that movie so bad, I wish it could just be Thursday." Derek ghosted his bottom lip down his neck. "I want to see that movie so bad, I'm practically shaking."

Stiles' voice shook, "H-how do you know it will be worth the wait?"

"The trailers have been a tantalizing."

"Really? Are you sure you don't need a few reviews? I'm sure it has some glowing ones."

Derek gripped his hip tighter. "I prefer to make my own opinions."

"Yeah? Well, it probably will be good, it's got a stellar lead."

Derek nodded letting his lips drag against his neck. The man shivered. "I would let that sarcastic brunet do what ever he wanted to me."

"Ryan Reynolds is one of the hottest actors."

"Oh, him? I guess he's okay too."

Just like that Stiles was at the end of his rope. He spun around and wrapped his arms around his neighbor's neck to pull him down. "I'm going to k-"

Derek cut the man off by beating him to the punch. And boy, it felt like Derek was punched instead.

Stiles buried his hand in his hair. Derek nipped at his lip and the man's mouth fell open in a groan. Derek seized his opportunity. The man tasted of coffee and desperation, probably as much as Derek did. Stiles pulled his hair and he gripped Stiles' hips and harshly pulled them to his own. Stiles walked Derek backwards until they collided with the glass door.

Time was lost to Stiles. All he knew was the person in front of him. He felt a hand sneak under his shirt. He pulled back. "Fuck." He breathed harshly. "Fuck, if you do that I won't make it to Thursday."

Derek started to bite and kiss at his neck instead.

"Fuck if you do, that, I won't last five minutes." He could feel a smile press against his throat.

"What do you recommend I do?"

Stiles closed his eyes to clear his mind. "Don't do, any of what you're doing." He peeked his eyes open. "In fact, your face? That's got to stop too. It is much too distracting."

"Oh okay. And what abo-"

"Yep, your voice is another thing that isn't going to happen right now."

He leaned back into his neck. "Sorry. How's this?" He rubbed his beard against his neck.

There was a gasp before he gripped his hair and pulled his head back. He spoke forcefully, "You, are doing that Thursday! Everywhere." Stiles slammed their lips together again.

Derek pulled back. "Do you need to get back to your computer?"

"Fuck my computer." Stiles spoke the last word practically against his lips.

Stiles pulled back. "I left your door open."

"Fuck my door." Derek pressed his smile to his lips.

"I'd rather fuck you."

Stiles went to kiss him again, but his neighbor burst out laughing. "No! No laughing. Kiss me!"

Derek's laugh rang out regardless of the pout. They kissed until they were interrupted by a small meow.

The man pulled back with wide eyes. "You have a cat!"

Derek was concerned. "Are you allergic?"

Stiles left him pressed against the glass door. He looked around. "Here, kitty kitty."

Lucian sauntered closer.

Derek started coming closer. "I wouldn't try to pet him! He hates all people and will bite you if you don't leave him alone. Really he's a huge asshole named Lucian."

Stiles held out his hand and Lucian eagerly pressed his head against his hand. Stiles looked back. "Right, sure. A big asshole. He's a sweetie. Aren't you?" He did a pet voice. "Oh, yes you are."

Lucian practically rolled over on to his belly and purred. Derek looked in disbelief. "He doesn't normally do that."

The man scoffed. He went to pick Lucian up cautiously and he almost leap into his arms. "Of course not. Because you're the huge asshole. Isn't he Luci? He is. Lying about you being mean, but you're a little sweetheart." Lucian gave a little meow of agreement.

---

Over the next few days Stiles found just about every single way to tease a man while not being able to speak and with an alley in-between them.

Thursday Derek knocked on his door and was breathless when it opened. "I thought sleepy you would kill me, but those jeans are a sin."

The man flushed. "Oh, well I prefer you without a shirt. I haven't had the pleasure yet, but I figure that rule applies to pants as well."

"Be good tonight and you might get it."

Stiles closed the door behind himself and leaned in to peck his lips. "I'm never good." He winked and walked away.

They whispered jokes back and forth the entire movie and almost got kicked out for laughing. They barely made it up into Derek's apartment before they were tearing each others clothes off. They fell into bed in a whirlwind.

While their breath was calming Stiles had a thought. "I should probably give you my number, huh?"

Derek laughed and agreed, "Yeah, you should." Before he rolled over, caging him with his arms again and nosing at his neck.

---

He felt someone staring at him and he looked up. "What?"

Parrish had a haunted look on his face. "What is your face doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look... Happy?!" Parrish ran away laughing as Derek threw paperclips at him.

The sheriff appeared beside him with a disapproving look.

"Sir, I-"

He clapped him on the shoulder. "Happy looks good on you, Hale."

Parrish looked surprised. "Are you letting go of your five month plan?"

The sheriff sipped his coffee. "Nah. It just might have to be moved to the five year plan."

Parrish laughed and he smirked. Derek was confused, but he let it go figuring they wouldn't tell him anyway.

Derek called after the sheriff as he headed toward the break room. "I put a yoghurt in the fridge for you! Leave the donuts alone!"

"Christ Hale, you're worse than my kid."

"To be a deputy I need a sheriff!"

"Love you too kid." He called before shutting the door to eat his yoghurt.

Derek felt pleased, but tried not to show it. The warmth in his chest blossomed anyway.

---

Scott's neck nearly snapped as he turned to him. "Dude you got laid!"

Stiles grimaced. "That's so gross! I showered like three times."

"It's not that, you just have this settledness. A contentment that comes after."

"Still weird dude."

---

They texted constantly. Now that Stiles could gloat in-between games and make sarcastic comments it was constant. Derek gave as good as he got, though.

Whenever his phone buzzed he was smiling before he could even realize it. They talked about anything and everything. The man went down the programming rabbit hole once, till they banned work talk before he could even find out what his neighbor did for a living. But other than that they shared everything. Well, he still didn't know the man's name, but that was unimportant when you've held a person as they told you about losing their mom and in turn told them about all the family you'll never see again. Derek was never tired of the man. For two weeks they kept getting closer and texting constantly. It was like normal social rules didn't exist with the man. One moment they'd be talking about video games and the next they spoke about their third favourite ice cream flavor, or how they've disappointed the people closest to them. They always had an argument about something, but it always ended in laughter. This had been what he was missing. This had been what he wanted. Someone to share the little parts of his day with. Someone that cared and couldn't wait to see him.

But in the small moments when they sat in silence he could tell there was something the man wasn't telling him. Sometimes he would chew his nails staring off into the distance with a worry on his face. When Derek would ask what was wrong he would dismiss it as nothing. He kept getting more and more on edge through the two weeks, but he acted like normal until Derek got his text.

It had been a busy day, if it wasn't one thing it was another. Paperwork and deadlines that had to be met, things to be catalogued, and someone to be arrested. He got off around two that night thankfully. Derek wanted to kick off his shoes and just go straight over to his balcony, but his phone buzzed almost immediately after his light went on.

His smile dimmed as he saw that the man had a very important work problem and couldn't be distracted.

Derek understood. He really did. He went to take a shower and tried not to feel the unwarranted disappointment. Sometimes people were busy, that was fine. He tried to settle into bed, but he couldn't close his eyes without thoughts of the man. Maybe if he just saw him, he would be able to sleep. His bare feet hit the cold floor as he walked out to the balcony.

As soon as he opened the door his face fell into a frown. His blinds were closed.

Surely he wasn't... Derek thought about how the man couldn't keep his hands off of him. He listened in, but was met with the sounds of computer typing, frustrated noises, and mumbled complaints. He was definitely working, but why would he close his blinds?

Derek got back into bed still thinking. Maybe he just needed a break from him. Or maybe it was really a big work problem that he couldn't handle being distracted from.

Thoughts about the man kept Derek awake and not even Tom Hardy in a lobster tank could lull him to sleep.

It was four am and he had gotten no sleep. He shut off the movie on his laptop. The more he thought about it the more confused and frustrated he was with not knowing what happened. He was now beyond tired and grumpy. He switched shifts with someone so he went to the kitchen to make himself something to eat and get some much needed coffee before work. He put some toast in before reaching for the coffee tin.

He sighed so loudly Lucian came into the room out of curiosity. "Why of all days? Why me?" Derek threw the empty coffee tin in the garbage. Yesterday was so busy he forgot to get some. There was no way he was going to work without coffee, but nowhere would be open this early.

He had a thought. Hm, worth a go.

He listened and sure enough the man was still up, pacing his flat. Derek grabbed his keys.

He knocked and soon enough the door swung open. The man looked disheveled and Derek was instantly hit with a wall of stress, anxiety, and fear.

Derek immediately forgot that he had been agitated or that he was under caffeinated. "What's wrong?"

The man looked caught off guard. "What? Why are you here?"

It wasn't said unkindly just with curiosity, but it still hurt. "I'm out of coffee, and I have to work in three hours."

"Right. Fine. I've just got to focus on this work thing. It's really-"

Derek lifted an eyebrow then looked over at where his computer was off.

The man scrubbed a hand down his face. "It's complicated."

Derek nodded. "I get complicated. That's okay if things are complicated. I just don't want, you feeling comfortable talking to me, to be one of them. So I'm going to go make us some coffee. And if you want to talk we can sit on the couch until you find a way to make it sound uncomplicated. If not I can take my coffee, go to work, and wait for the day it either is too complicated or it isn't anymore. I'll wait if you aren't ready or if this is too soon, but there is nothing that you could say that I wouldn't want to hear. Simply for the fact that it's you saying it."

Derek was tackled into a kiss that tasted like stale coffee. "It's in the cabinet by the sink."

They stood in silence as Derek made them coffee. The man went over to his bread box and pulled out a container of peanut butter cookies. Derek looked at him softly.

"I know they aren't your mom's, but I figured I-"

Derek pulled him into a hug. "They'll be perfect." Derek turned to get the sugar out and set the mugs down.

"I want the big ba-"

"The big Batman one. I know. It's the one you use the most at your desk."

Stiles wrapped himself around his back while he poured them coffee and he kissed the back of his shoulder. "More sugar."

He shook his head and set the sugar down.

Stiles turned to mouth at his neck and then whispered, "More sugar, please?"

He swore before dumping more in. "Jesus. You'll be the death of me."

Stiles smiled and bit at just the right spot as he crept his hand under his shirt.

"Fuck your hands are cold."

"Why don't you warm them up then?" Stiles danced his fingers along his skin.

"I know what you're doing."

Stiles pulled his ear between his teeth and whispered breathily, "Is it working?"

"No."

He scraped his nails down his side and Derek shivered. "Yes." Derek turned around and held his chin to kiss him. He leaned back to look into his eyes. "If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to distract me, we just don't have to talk about it. I just want you to have someone to talk about things with, even if they aren't happy."

The man looked at him with an undecipherable look, before tears started to gather in his eyes. He pulled him in for a sweet kiss and leaned their foreheads together. "This is much too soon for just how deeply I care for you. This is weird."

Derek smiled at him. "Yeah, it is. So what? You're weird. I'm weird. Why wouldn't we be weird together?"

Derek walked over to the couch and set their mugs down. "So, am I taking a seat?"

Stiles nodded at him. He sat down and started drinking his coffee and pulled his legs up. He waited patiently as Stiles began to pace. "Are you sure?"

Derek shrugged. "There are few things I've been more sure of than you."

Stiles let out a humorless laugh as he shook his head. "You see that right there! I can tell you're a defensive and closed off person. You don't trust easily. You had people take advantage of you, so you don't let people into your life, but with me you, you just trust me. And that scares me. Because what if I hurt you? Then I'll just be another one of the people you trusted that hurt you. And God we're moving so fast! Surely this is too fast? People normally don't go this fast. But it doesn't feel wrong. Well, I mean it does, but only for the fact that it doesn't feel wrong to be going this fast. Does that make sense? It probably doesn't. But God you just scare me because I've dated, I've had boyfriends and girlfriends. I've had casual hook ups and serious relationships, but I have never once thought about if my dad would be proud to walk me down the aisle to any of them. That is a crazy thought to have! And I thought that after the first time we had sex! That's crazy! I'm crazy! I shouldn't think about getting married after knowing you for like less than a month! And I've never felt like I had to be fake with you. I've never thought oh God what if my laugh is obnoxious? What if doesn't like the way I walk or the way I dress or the way I act? What if I'm too much of a nerd for him? What if I like him more than he likes me? I mean you're sex on legs, practically a Greek god and I'm just me. But you never make me feel like just me. You make me feel special. I never once have thought what if I'm too skinny or not muscled enough. I've never thought any of that."

He took a big deep breath in.

"Not a single thing like it. It's just so easy to be me around you, and it scares me. I tell you everything. You know about Scott and my mom and the boy named Theo in eighth grade that broke my heart. I tell you about the history of male circumcision and my time at Berkeley. And I know things about you. You told me that she took advantage of you when you haven't even told your sisters that. Sometimes I think I know you inside and out, but then I remember just how little I know, how little time we've know each other. Hell, I sat on your face and I don't know your middle name, fuck or your first! But I know you had a dog named Lucky when you were six. I know all these things, but when I think of a day I don't get to learn more about you it ruins my mood. I want to know everything about you, and I want you to know everything about me."

The man's eyes looked wild and scared as he flailed his arms.

"I ramble! It's a thing I do! I'm doing it right now! And you don't even care. You just get this look in your eyes like it would kill you if I ever shut up. And let me tell you, I'm used to having the exact opposite. I am constantly told to shut up. But you, you just calm me down from panic attacks and text me so my day isn't boring and look all super hot when you kiss me. And right now I should feel different. I should feel sorry for talking this much, but I don't. Because it's you."

He stopped moving and looked into Derek's eyes deeply. "Because it's you. You scare me. Because it's you. You don't make me feel sorry for being me."

Derek nodded. He sat his mug down and put his legs back down before widening them and patting the space between them.

Stiles walked over and collapsed into his lap. He straddled him and wrapped his arms around his neck.

When Derek encircled his torso the man slumped against him as he buried his head into his neck.

They clung to each other for several moments before Derek spoke, "It scares me too. My sisters are sick of hearing about you and Erica is dying to meet you. I'm nervous to meet Scott and down right terrified to meet your dad. My middle name is Samuel. I thought about if we would move or live here and if you would want kids. This scares me. I haven't had a proper long term relationship where they didn't try to kill me. I closed myself off from everyone for so long to heal that I forgot what it was like to trust someone. How to do it. I shouldn't trust you, not this soon. But I look into your eyes and my life is yours. We already disregard the social norms, why should this be any different? You scare me. But fuck what we should do. Fuck how it's supposed to go. Let's just be scared and trust each other entirely too soon." Derek didn't know if it was instinct, or just the universe finally giving him something, but he knew down to his bones that he could trust Stiles.

Stiles exhaled shakily. "I've started sleeping better because I know you're there. I don't have as many panic attacks, because I know you're a text away. I know you're across the street. I know you're there for me, and I'm not used to that and it freaks me out. It freaks me out how it's felt like there's been this hole in my life for so long, and when I look in your eyes everything seems just a little bit less hard. A little bit less like tomorrow isn't going to happen the way it's supposed to. A little bit like you're the solution to a problem I didn't even know I was asking."

He seemed to absorb that all for a moment as he rubbed soothing circles into Stiles' hip.

He stopped his circles and after a few seconds Stiles prodded, "What, what is it?"

"You don't have to answer, but if you do, answer honestly. I would rather your silence than lies. And it's okay if you don't have the answer." Derek resumed the circles.

Stiles leaned his head up and looked at him searchingly. He put his hand on the side of his face and swept broad lines along his cheekbone. "What is it?"

"Why are your lights on at three am?"

Stiles scoffed and pushed lightly on his chest. "Because I can't sleep dumbass. Why are you seeing my lights on at three am." He asked rhetorically.

His heart hadn't skipped, but it quickened. Derek looked contemplative and serious. "Because I was lonely. Because nighttime feels like the kind of peace around you that you can't help but pull it inward. Because I work the night shift. Because some days it's hard to face myself, but nighttime is made to shadow sin. Because I like to look at the moon. Because sometimes daytime is too stressful. If you want a more recent answer, because my cute neighbor is up then too. And since the first time I saw him I knew he was the type of beautiful that sunlight burned with insincerity, but moonlight kissed with truth. I'm up because sometimes my body just doesn't want to sleep no matter how tired I am." His eyes had a piercing quality. "Why are your lights on at three am?"

Stiles looked down.

"There's stuff I can't tell you. At least not yet. It's not just my secret to tell. I don't want to lie to you, but there is just this one thing, this one side of me that you aren't ready for. But I will be honest about it as soon as I can be."

Derek knew he was honest. Christ, Stiles was the most brutally honest person he'd ever met. Rarely did his heart skip a beat when Derek wasn't doing something to cause it. But every once and awhile Derek could tell he was trying to not lie. Trying not to keep anything, but also not giving. Derek was okay with it. Because even in his big secret Stiles was being open and honest with him... Even with the things he couldn't be. "Okay." Derek nodded.

Stiles' head shot up. "Okay? Just okay? No interrogation? No dramatic, 'What how could you?' come on, where's your sense of flair?"

Derek knew he was trying to hide his genuine shock.  "I trust you, remember? Trust me and tell me about what you can. If you can't tell me it, don't lie. There's things I can't tell you yet either, but I will."

The man still looked like he was trying to peer through his eye sockets to find something that was etched in the back side of his skull. He must've found it, because his air of defensiveness left him in such a big whoosh Derek could almost taste the change in the air.

"I'm awake, because I have insomnia. I'm awake, because my brain won't just shut off sometimes. I'm awake, because if there's a problem that needs solving, I can't sleep until it is. I'm awake, because I was lonely too. I'm awake at night because I'm good at coding and if I do it at three am the only person I have to lie about it being fulfilling is myself. I'm awake, because failed dreams don't belong in the daytime. I'm awake, because in the mornings I itch to solve cases and help people while doing my dream job, so it's easier to just sleep through them. I'm awake, because I'm too tired to sleep. I'm awake, because there's this sleeping beast inside me that slumbers enough for both of us, and sometimes I am terrified if I sleep too much I will awaken to it having woke up before me. I'm awake, because I am scared."

Derek could smell the saltiness of tears. "Scared of what? Something other than me?"

Stiles gripped him harder. "You're a part of it. Well, more like this is the reason you scare me so much."

Derek rubbed up and down his back and waited.

"I'm scared of my life. I'm scared of my future. The only easy part about high school was I knew where I fit in. I was the sheriff's kid. I was up to no good. I was a nerd. I wasn't popular. Scott and I were the most important thing in each other's lives other than our parents. Now it's just like, I'm adrift. Do I stay in Beacon Hills? Do I leave? Are me and Scott still best friends? Should I date, or should I be happy alone? Should I do this job or that one? Should I tell Scott that he should stop being such a cabbage and just marry her already? Should I be encouraging my dad to get back out there more? Should I buy this or do that? It's all of these choices that will shape my future and I'm terrified to make the wrong one. And you know, I can actually see it. My perfect life. The life I think I could never deserve but want to be able to one day. I see it all. And the thing is, I'm great at plans. I made them for everything, but how do you plan for your entire life when so much could go wrong? And it terrifies me. It terrifies me that I could break it. That if I don't do one thing exactly right I'll ruin all the other things. Or if I try one of the things it will break all of the others. I don't want to do that. I can't. Because I see that life for me, and I don't see how I could be happy in another, so I just- I don't mean to- I just accidentally- I-"

"You wreck things before they can break. You turn down jobs because they're your dream job, but you don't have the rest of your dream yet. You push people out of your life, because you don't have all of the people you want in it. You don't build a home that will feel hollow with just you in it. You try to hurt yourself before anyone else can do it for you, I know the feeling." And my god, did Derek. It was like hearing from himself. As Derek finished he could smell the relief coming off of him in waves.

"I don't mean to wreck it, I just do. And some nights I just panic, because how could I be that stupid? Others, I just feel so numb to everything. I don't know how to get to where I want to be and it's fucking terrifying."

Derek nodded. "I guess I don't think about my future. I'm just waiting for it to be taken from me. I know I want to be there for my sisters and my friends, but long term I don't have a clue what I want. It's always just what I have in front of me. I love my job. I have a workable apartment. Things like that matter, but I don't think about them long term."

"Wow. I can't even imagine that. Not thinking about every possible thing."

Derek shrugged. "I usually only think about what could go wrong."

"What do you see going wrong with us?"

"Most of the time? You getting tired of me and just waking up on day wanting to leave."

Stiles laughed. "Well that's bullshit. We already talked about how hard it is for me to get to sleep."

They both had soft unseen smiles.

"Will you tell me about it? What you see for yourself? Do you feel comfortable sharing that with me?" Derek was a little bit worried to see if he would somehow fit into his dream.

"We've swapped enough bodily fluids for that to not be a crazy request."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Will you tell me what you see? What you see for yourself, your future?"

Stiles sighed contemplative. "I see Scott and Allison happily married with kids. At least two, who call me uncle Stiles and I spoil rotten. I see my dad happy and healthy. Hopefully, with someone that makes him even happier and enforces the no double bacon cheeseburgers rule. I see my friends happy and safe, never too far away. I see the town safe, not necessarily quiet because I'd get bored, but manageable."

He paused long enough for Derek to realize he was done. "And for yourself?"

"That's a bit trickier. I see myself working from Beacon Hills. For the FBI as a profiling and strategy consultant. I see my Jeep still clunking around. I see a house. A big one. Not the type you would buy because it was cheap or convenient. The type that you only get when you're ready to fill it. I see family and friends gathering at our place. I see a spouse, a husband."

He seemed shy admitting that and Derek grinned. "Does this spouse have, and I quote, 'The cheekbones of an Adonis and the ass of Captain America.' by any chance?"

"In all my fantasies before they were amorphous. Never male or female for sure. Well, except when I pictured Tom Hiddleston or Jennifer Lawrence. They never looked like any one thing. They were just a concept. Now, he has the most amazing eyes. You would swear they were green, but then again maybe they're a little bit of everything."

Derek was grinning before, now he was beaming. Tears almost pouring out of kaleidoscopes.

"I see a couple of kids. Maybe fostered. But fostered, adopted, surrogate it doesn't really matter." Stiles shrugged. "I want to feel like I'm important to people. Like I'm the person they can't wait to see when they get home. I want to have a home. One that no one can ever take away or claim, because it's mine. People shouldn't be able to take homes from people. Before anything else I have to make sure what is mine, can't be taken."

"I don't think homes should be taken either. Even if you leave, that doesn't make it any less yours. You should have a place for your family, your future. People shouldn't take that from you, they should give it to you."

They just sat there breathing together and clinging to each other.

"If you think about it, what do you see?"

Derek didn't reply right away.

"I don't really know. I mean I know some things. Like I want Erica and Boyd to be there, Issac too if he wants to move back. I want my sisters to be alive and happy. I just want to be a part of a- a family again."

"Would you move back to New York? You mentioned you have family there."

When Erica had asked him things seemed so clouded, now they were clearer than they'd ever been. "No. That is my sister's place. I-" Derek's mind was clear and sure about the future for the first time in awhile. "I have a place here. This is where I belong and I never should've thought otherwise. Besides, I have a reason to stay here now. To build a life. One where I'm happy, in love, and annoyed at my husband. One where I have a family. A job I love, an over bearing boss too. One with kids and a house. Hell, I'd throw in a picket fence to go for the full cliche. One where I have someone to tell all about the family I lost. One with things to keep me on my toes, and people. One where I'm supposed to be."

Derek looked at him appreciatively. "I never knew I wanted that, or that I could. I thought I didn't deserve it, but you've made me yearn for it now. I want a life. I will make a life for myself. And for the people that want to share it with me." Derek's voice had a tone of awe, but certainty.

Stiles laced their fingers together.

Too soon Derek had to disentangle himself for work. As he went to walk towards the door the man caught him by his arm. "At first I thought it was cute and a great story to tell, to see how long we could go, but now I just want to be able to say your name. To hear you say mine. But not yet. There's this thing with Scott. Next Friday night. I'll do that and after it I want to know the name of the man I'm going to build my life with. Next Friday. Okay? After that we can be all cute and shit saying each others names with love in our eyes and all that garbage okay?"

Derek rolled his eyes then nodded. "I'll be ready after Friday too. It's time I made something right. After Friday we can start our lives anywhere in Beacon Hills. It will be ours."

Stiles looked at him with a spark in his eye. "Exactly. It will be ours." He said it like a promise.

---

Stiles' shoulders had been up to his ears the entire week leading up to Friday. Well, until Derek came by to massage them back down. They slept together every night to stave off Stiles' panic attacks. Both of them being soothed by another heartbeat. Stiles tried not to be nervous, but the Malikhai pack had been taunting them all week. Stiles knew it was serious because Jackson flew in. Jackson would only come if Lydia asked, and if Lydia was asking they were in deep shit.

Stiles and Derek had said goodbye that morning with Derek offering words of encouragement in exchange for weak smiles.

Stiles wanted to be more sure. He did. This was their land. They fought every fucking monster that was drawn to Satan's wooden dildo. And no matter how many times they got reamed up the ass they just picked out the splinters and carried on and protected the damn supernatural beacon. Because this was their motherfucking land. This was their home and no body was going to take that. Certainly not some asshole alpha who had no claim besides, 'The pack that abandoned it and left it all to a bunch of teenagers might want it. And they should have first pick because they called dibs.' It was bull.

Stiles' angry thoughts served as a pep talk and his hands stopped their shaking. Scott gave him a reassuring look and Stiles looked back with an affirming nod. They could do this.

They stood shoulder to shoulder in the clearing. All of the people that were important to him were here, Scott, his dad, Allison, Lydia, Jackson. Everyone except him, but he was doing this for him. For the future.

Deaton was off to the side as an intermediary.

Stiles was just about to make a comment about tardiness when Scott stiffened.

Stiles looked to the treeline ahead of them and straightened his shoulders and hardened his face.

Six figures, the same as their number as they agreed, emerged from the trees.

Everyone assessed for a moment.

There was an overly happy voice. "Well, nice to see even a bitten wolf and a human can accomplish showing up."

"And nice to see a born one can disregard tradition and be late." Stiles earned a few snarls.

The snide remarks kept being thrown back and forth till finally Stiles had enough. "This is not your land! You have no right to it!"

The other alpha's second spoke up, "Oh? And you do? True alpha my ass. There's no way he is one at his age and skill level. And one that co-alphas with a human nonetheless. What about the rest of your so called pack? Two weak humans, a lizard, a girl who can scream, and worst of all, a hunter." Her fangs grew as she spit out the last word like poison. "You're not a pack. You're an after school club that needs to go down for a nap. Grandpa too."

Stiles chuckled. "Debating our pack's strength will get you nowhere. You could've taken this land right after the Hales left, but you didn't. We took care of it. We made sure this land's people lived. We kept those who wished it harm, out. We made this our home and you can't take it without breaking the most sacred of laws and traditions. This is our land, it is ours. As we have taken care of it, it too shall take care of us. As we dwell within it, it dwells within us. As we draw on it's power, it draws on ours. As we are a part of this land, this land is a part of us." Stiles recited just like the book he read said. He took his father and Scott's hand and the pack linked hands. Stiles smirked. "In other words, I speak for the trees bitch."

His eyes began to glow and the wind picked up. The trees around them all began to bend. The branches closest to their pack shielded them while the other pack was batted and scraped.

The wind died down. The other pack looked pissed, but knew better than to challenge a pack on their own turf with even numbers.

Their alpha turned to Deaton with a sickly sweet smile. "Druid, I request you let one more person enter the circle of sanctuary. No harm will come of anyone, but they will shed some light on how this is their land. They recently changed their minds about some things. And since the rituals of claim need till tonight to solidify, their claim is as valid as any. This is their birthright after all." He said with a sneer towards Scott.

Stiles had a momentary freak out. What if Laura changed her mind? But she said she wouldn't. She gave her word. This was likely some sort of trick.

Deaton looked to him and Scott. They both shared a brief look then nodded to him. Deaton spoke steady and clear. "One can draw near, but they may not cause harm nor fear." A small break in the barrier was broken and they could see outside the circle.

Derek walked in and both Stilinski men stood stock still with shock. Derek looked to the other alpha and nodded before scanning both packs. He looked guiltily at the sheriff before freezing at the man next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Two voices demanded in unison.

Stiles crossed his arms. "You first."

The chill and guard in his eyes hurt Derek. "I came to claim this land."

Just as easily as the bond took hold, the pack felt it ripped from them to neutral territory.

Scott nudged Stiles. "You know him?"

Stiles squinted. Was this all just some ploy from the other pack to steal their land? Had this stranger really cared? Stiles looked into those eyes he had trusted till the moment they walked through the barrier. He was conflicted and confused. "I don't know."

His dad stepped forward. "Derek son, your alpha already forfeited this land. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry sir." He did look apologetic.

Stiles' eyes widened. "Derek?" His neighbor's eyes looked over to him. Had this all been some big lie? Had Derek been there to surveil him? And what, he just got bored and decided to play with his emotions? Stiles' face hardened once again. "You have no right. Your pack abandoned this land. Your alpha isn't here to claim it. You have no right to take from us. We protected this land. We cared for it, we bled for it! It is ours!" Stiles was speaking with force and anger.

That smarmy bastard had another smirk. "Why would Laura need to come? You see, Derek let me in on the most delicious little tidbit a few days ago. He's an alpha."

Stiles' blood ran cold. If Derek was an alpha, if he wanted the land it was his. His family lived here for generations. Hell, they practically built Beacon Hills. All he would have to do is say the words. If he claimed Beacon he could force them out.

The sheriff spoke with conviction, "Derek's not an alpha. He gave me his word. He gave his word that a Hale wouldn't claim Beacon."

Derek looked up with guilt in his eyes. "I said Laura wouldn't claim Beacon." And just like that the guilt was replaced by crimson.

The sheriff stepped back like he'd been slapped.

"I'm sorry sir. I know this is your pack, but this was my home. My territory. I want to build a future. I intended to take Beacon for my pack."

Stiles nearly flinched with how close the words were. If he just changed the tense they would lose this.

"But I think something might have changed." He turned to Deaton. "May I and one of their pack speak in private?" He motioned to the man next to the sheriff.

Deaton looked to Stiles and he nodded once again.

"Whoa, whoa wait. I'm not letting you go out there with some stranger, Stiles!" He grabbed his arm as he spoke.

Derek nearly growled and slashed at him until he recognized him as Scott. He looked and now that he was paying attention, he had seen all of these people in photos the man, Stiles had shown him.

"It's fine. I can handle it. If he tries anything," Stiles twirled his bat. "This is freshly wrapped in wolfsbane and ready to be shoved up an asshole."

Deaton spoke, "Pass may two, the door will shut until they are through."

The barrier once again opened and Stiles followed Derek out.

It was tense till they saw the barrier close.

Derek stepped closer. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what is even happening." Derek went to hold Stiles' arms, but he stepped back.

"I have granted your request. Speak alpha Hale." His voice was detached.

Derek looked crushed and confused. "No, no. Why are you doing that? No."

"You're the one that showed up to steal my land. After all that talk about home, family, and how no one should have theirs taken from them, you go and do this." Stiles scoffed. "To actually think I believed you. God, I am an idiot. Tell your sister bra-fuckin-vo. She must be one hell of a liar to have taught you so well."

"What are you talking about?"

Stiles looked murderous and he let out a scoff with a small deadly smile. "Oh don't give me that! You can stop lying now. God, after all that bullshit about not lying and being honest." The heat of rage flickered out for a moment and blinding hurt could be seen. "After all that shit about not lying, after me telling you things I haven't even told Scott, after we- I thought- I- I-" Stiles had tears threatening to spill as his voice cracked. "I was an idiot. You never cared for me. All you wanted was to take back Beacon."

Derek's eyes went wide with understanding. "No! No. No. No!" He tried to grab for Stiles again, but that made him grip his bat tighter and Derek decided to explain first. "I didn't give two shits about Beacon until a week ago. My pack and I were content to just live in peace on your land. Like I was a beta. I didn't want the responsibility, the weight of it, but you changed that. I realized I was being selfish. My pack deserves an alpha that provides. They deserve a home. And so do you. You made me want Beacon. You. You did that." Derek smiled at him.

Stiles felt a rock in his stomach. His family was about to lose their home and future because Stiles thought with his dick. After all the trouble he gave Scott. "So take it. You know we can't fight a Hale's claim." Stiles went to turn back to the barrier.

"God damn it, just wait! I wanted Beacon for you!" Derek softened. "For us. For our future."

The picture was starting to get clearer to Stiles. He spoke measured and clear, "Derek. You realize, that if you do this, if you take Beacon and force my family out, we won't have one. My future lies with my pack."

Derek looked overwhelmed. "Jesus, give me a second to figure this all out. I just had everything turned inside out. I wouldn't force you guys away. We would find another way."

Stiles shook his head. "If you claim this land we could never be together. It would feel like I was choosing you over Scott and my dad and my pack. That's something I can't do."

Derek looked lost. "If he claims this land my family's tradition and ties would die."

They stood in heartbroken silence.

Stiles tensed like he was shocked. "What if neither of those things happen?" Derek looked confused, but he continued, "What if they both do?"

"If two rivaling alphas compete, it would go to whoever completed the ritual first."

Stiles smiled wide. "Not if they weren't rivals or competing. What if we all claimed the land? I read somewhere that if two people have intent to marry or claim each other, they can share a territory until their bond is solidified."

"What are you saying?"

"Derek, I'm going to ask you something very important."

"Okay?"

"What is your favorite gummi bear flavor?"

"What?"

Stiles looked insistent.

"Orange. Why?"

Stiles looked gleeful. "All Stilinski's hate orange flavor. As soon as I found out Scott loved them I knew he was a keeper. I have something else important to ask you." Derek still looked confused, but was going with it. "I know we are no where near ready for it, but do you, somewhere in the very very distant future see yourself agreeing to eat orange gummi bears for the rest of your life?"

Derek looked confused before looking very freaked out. "Are you asking me to get married?!"

"No. Well, yes. But not until very very far in the future. It doesn't actually have to happen, the intent just has to be there in order to claim the territory. So if you have intent to marry the Stilinski alpha, three people can technically claim the territory, because Scott is the werewolf alpha, not just the human one. The human alpha would claim the territory and their pack alpha and their intended would also have equal claim on the territory."

Derek still looked freaked out and like he was going to throw up.

Stiles started dragging him back. "Magic wall, we're ready."

Derek's eyes widened. "No! No we're not!"

The barrier opened and Stiles shoved both of them through.

The air was tense and more than one person had claws out.

Stiles bulldozed ahead anyway. "We have a solution." He caught all attention. "As the law mandates, if two are intent to marry they can both claim the territory they will one day share. And if one is human, their alpha also has part ownership of the land. In this way three people can claim territory jointly. I declare intent for the Stilinski alpha to one day, very very distantly, to marry the alpha Derek Hale."

Everyone looked shocked, but especially his dad and Scott.

Derek was more red and green than adverts at Christmas time. He yanked on Stiles' arm. "No! Stiles stop! I'm not going to marry your dad!" With that harsh and very loud declaration everyone went deadly silent as they stared at Derek.

"What?" Derek felt like he was in one of those dreams where you'd forgotten your underwear.

Stiles looked calm as he spoke like he was speaking to a child, "Derek. Why would you think I meant you'd marry my dad." It sounded like a statement.

Derek made a wounded noise that seemed like he was saying it was obvious.

Stiles face dawned understanding, but was still carefully blank besides a faint trace of amusement. "Derek. Who do you think the Stilinski alpha is?"

Derek just huffed and threw out an arm to the sheriff like it was the only option.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips to mean, 'Try again.'

Derek stood dumbfounded.

Stiles groaned. "Derek, I'm the Stilinski alpha."

Derek's eyebrows went up to his hairline.

A snooty voice spoke, "Derek, just claim the land already. Your mother would be turning over in her grave if Talia knew what a pathetic bitch and his little human slut were ruining her town, much less that her son didn't immediately put a stop to it."

Stiles found it nice to know that Derek's face could go from, 'I might be a murderer.' to, 'I am two seconds away from ripping you limb from limb.' in two seconds.

"In case you've forgotten, my father was human. My mother welcomed all to her pack and was stronger for it." He had to snarl around large fangs. He grabbed Stiles' hand. "I declare intent to eventually marry the Stilinski alpha."

Stiles reached out for Scott's hand and he took it after a long look and a nod from Stiles.

Stiles spoke, "I declare intent to one day, a really mother fuckin long time from now, marry the Hale alpha Derek."

Stiles squeezed their hands and they spoke in unison. "We claim this territory." All of their eyes briefly flashed red.

Derek was still snarling. "Now get the fuck out of our territory before we declare intent to kill you for daring to use my mother's name like that."

"You can't-"

Deaton dropped the circle of sanctuary.

Stiles had a shark-like grin. "As we take care of it, it takes care of us." His eyes glowed as the wind whipped and trees and vines started to chase them out.

It was calm and still.

Stiles broke the silence. "So... Who wants pie?"

His dad grabbed him by the back of the neck. "Stiles, did you just get werewolf engaged?!"

"Easy pops! No. I got regular, 'Hey we're dating. This might lead to marriage, let's move in together.'ed.

His dad squinted before cuffing him on the back of his head. "I need pie. Then a nap. Then maybe an explanation as to what the hell just happened."

Scott raised his hand. "Ditto." His mouth dropped open. "Wait! Oh my god, dude! Is this hot neighbor! I thought his scent was familiar! But he didn't smell like a werewolf before when I smelled him on you."

They all looked to Derek in shock.

Allison got there first. "That's hot neighbor? Have my babies neighbor that you wouldn't shut up about is Derek Hale!?"

Stiles groaned. "Pie first. Then embarrass Stiles to death please. I want to go out on a full stomach."

An unidentified female voice spoke from behind some trees, "Pie sounds good. Who's treating?"

Instantly everyone was on alert except Derek. "Wait! It's okay. It Erica."

Everyone looked at him like, 'Who's Erica.' except Stiles.

A bombshell blonde walked out followed by a tall quiet black man.

She stepped right up to Stiles and looked scrutinizing. "So this is him?" She looked unsure. "He's so skinny. And nerdy. He doesn't look like he can handle you. He looks like you could eat him alive."

Stiles expertly, and impressively twirled his bat then rested it on his shoulder with a lecherous smile. "Believe me, he already has. Multiple times."

Her face lit up. "Ooo Derek, I like this one! Let's keep him!"

Derek turned to Stiles. "I will buy everyone as much pie as they want. As long as you promise not to be friends with her."

Stiles put a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes lovingly. "Derek, I love pie. I would do anything for pie. But if you think for one second we aren't going to make your life a living hell, you've got another thing coming."

Erica laughed and Stiles linked arms with her leaving Derek behind.

Scott gave him a pitying look. "He's just like that, no he will not apologize at any point. Get used to it, or get gone."

The fierce protectiveness reminded him of Laura, but not the alpha in her, the sister.

He nodded. "I'm acclimating fast."

Scott nodded and his normal puppish look was back.

Allison wrapped Scott's arm around her neck and spoke to him as she passed almost as an after thought, "Hurt him and I know the best wolfsbane to make you die the slowest and most painful."

Lydia just gave him a look that was somehow more terrifying that facing down fifty alphas that wanted his head. She hmphed and left.

Lizard man was next. "I hate Stilinski. But if I have to deal with his bitchin and crying I'll paralyze you and by the time I wrap my tail around your throat, you'll be begging me to kill you."

By far none of those comments prepared him for the last one. Especially not coming from a man he respected so much. The sheriff clapped him around the shoulders. "He is my world and the only thing I have left of her that means a damn. If you hurt him, know that you'll hurt five people irreparably. One, him. Two, yourself. Three, me. And son you don't want to cross a man who knows the law. We know how to break it, and get away with it."

Derek swallowed. There was nothing quite like a significant other's parent terrorizing you. "And the other two people sir?"

"It would be awful for your sisters to have to lose one of the only remaining family members they have left. Hurt my boy and I'll put you in a hole God herself couldn't find. And they will never know what happened to you." The sheriff smiled. He walked off.

Derek had never known terror until that moment. His future father-in-law was insane. His boyfriend's friends were insane. He remembered all of what just happened and freaked out.

Fuck. His boyfriend was insane!

---

They rode separately, but as soon as they got there they all squished into the biggest setup the diner had. They all ordered food and ate like they were starved. Everyone was laughing and getting along just as much as they bickered. Erica and Jackson instantly mixed like oil and water, but Boyd and Lydia were deep in conversation. Derek could tell this would work, could feel it.

His eyes were glassy and he felt someone squeeze his hand. He looked down and then over at Stiles. He squeezed his hand back.

Stiles looked happy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just, thank you."

Stiles tilted his head. "For what?"

Derek leaned over to kiss his forehead and then brought his knuckles to his lips. "For showing me, that homes shouldn't be taken. They should be shared."

Stiles grinned at him and then leaned his head on Derek's shoulder as he finished both of their curly fries.

The terror was worth it. Everything was worth it when it came to Stiles.

The sheriff gave him a soft smile. He leaned over to clap Derek's shoulder. "Welcome to the family son." His attention quickly wandered again.

Derek looked down to a beaming Stiles. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I think I'm just realizing the possibility of something wasn't as dead to me as I thought." Derek smiled with shiny eyes.

Stiles leaned up for a kiss. It was too much grin and a weird angle, but Derek swore it was the best kiss that had ever happened. Stiles pulled back with a fond look. "Welcome home."

Derek ended up paying for everybody's pie.

[silverlysilence]

Taliesin’s Apothecary & Bookery

Fairytales are often filled with mermaids and knights, dragons and pirates, all with happy endings.  But then there are the fairytales filled with curses...

The chime above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer.  

Jack peaked up from the tome he was currently flipping through—ideally scanning the pages to past the time—to see a young teen no more than fourteen hesitantly walk into the dimly lit store. Huffing, blue eyes rolled before returning to the book before him. He needn’t bother with watching the newcomer to know the kid’s reaction.  The boy would hesitantly poke around their various knickknacks, picking a few up before hastily putting them back when he read their tags before shuffling around to the book section where he’d pick up a few books to flip through. If he had any money on him—which was a good probability in the current times—he’d buy one or two of the books before dashing out before any of his friends could find him in such a place.  

Nothing new there.

The clearing of a throat had blue eyes glancing up from his tome, a single white brow raising when the teenager in front of him fidgeted and wouldn’t meet his eyes.  Well, this was new.

“Can I help you?” Jack lazily asked, propping his chin on his hand.

“Umm, I—um, I’m looking for—for a book.  A specific one…on the occult,” the nasal voice mumbled lowly to the point Jack had to strain his ears to hear what the kid was saying.

“Kid, you got to be more specific than that, this is Taliesin’s Apothecary & Bookery, all we have are books on the occult," he pointed out in a bored tone, waving his free hand towards the two large bookcases filling the back half of the store.

“Ri-ight, um, Johnathan,” here green eyes darted to the nametag pinned to the grey waistcoat he decided to wear today and Jack tried not to flinch.  He really should have picked a better name than that, but it was easier to go with something similar to his real name than something too different that he would forget to answer to.  “I-I’m looking for ones about…dragons—”

“Straight back, at the very end, bookshelf to the right.  Rows three and four,” Jack waved him off and returned to his tome once more.  The boy hesitated but after a few awkward seconds, he walked off in the indicated direction. Only when his footsteps grew faint did blue eyes glance back up, a hidden longing shining in his blue eyes as he watched the teen search the rather limited selection of books.

A soft thump and the brush of fur against his hand had Jack looking down into acid green eyes.  “So, it begins again, eh, Toothless?”

The black cat meowed, tail swishing as the two looked down the aisle at the young—gods did he look young—auburn-haired teen. “He looks younger and younger each time.  And unusually whole. Think he’ll keep his leg this time around?”

A swat at his hand had Jack looking down at the growling cat.

“Yeah, I know, that was insensitive of me, but you can’t blame me.  He’s lost that damn leg every single life, I’m just not used to seeing him without his prosthetic.”  Toothless huffed at his pathetic commentary, turning his back to the white-haired youth. “Fed up with me, aren’t you? Sick of having only me for company for the last century, huh?  Well, I’m sick of you too, and I hope I don’t see your smug little furry—or scaly—face for another century.”

While the words were harsh, the tone was sad and wistful.  Something that seemed to piss off the cat as sharp little white teeth sank into pale flesh.  Jack yelped, yanking his hand back and glaring into acid green eyes which were glaring right back.  A yowl had the eternal teen wilting.

“You know what I meant. I want him to have a long and happy life this go around, dying of old—old—age this time.  Not because he was stopping some damn demented dragon trying to create a hoard of worker bee dragons to cater to her every whim else they be eaten or going up against an armada with only a handful of people at his back only for them to die a heroic, young death. If he doesn’t do anything stupid, you’ll get to be with Hiccup again for decades longer with how long humans live these day. Just, maybe keep the leg, yeah?”

Toothless drooping, before batting his head against the teen’s still throbbing hand.  Jack chuckled, giving the little purring demon a pet.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too, you little black menace,” the eternal teen murmured, kissing the top of the cat’s head and picking him up to place on the floor moments before the sole customer staggered over to the register, two thick books clenched to his chest.

“All set?” Jack asked, taking the books from the boy. Being extra careful to prevent their fingers from brushing.  He knew from past experience that wasn’t a good idea.  It tended to trigger something in trigger something in the incarnation’s soul.

“Um, yeah…I found these books, but not the one I was looking for,” green eyes darted around, as if he was ashamed to be buying the equivalent of fairytales.  Because really that’s what the damn things were, fanciful fairytales not worth the paper they were written on.  No one believed in dragons and magic anymore and those authors who did were mere charlatans in it for the money.  Still, with the boy looking elsewhere, it gave Jack the opportunity to slip The Book of Dragons into the tote without him noticing, subtler than the time he had to accidently knock the tiny auburn-haired boy over so he could slip the book in with the rest of his scatter belongings.  

The eternal teen had learned from past experiences.

“Here you go.  I hope you have a nice day,” Jack put on his best customer service smile as the boy returned the platitudes before rushing out the door.  Never once did he look back, so he failed to notice the black cat slipping out with him and the broken smile.  “Bye Hiccup.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Jack decided he deserved the rest of the day for himself.  It was easy to flip the open sign to close and with a snap of his fingers, the lights were off and the door locked.  

“Maybe I should take a vacation?” Jack muttered to himself, watching as this incarnation of Astrid threw her arms around the boy failing horrible at trying to hid his purchases behind his back and laid a kiss on his cheek.  It would seem, in this life too, the shieldmaiden already had a claim on Hiccup’s heart.  She had for the last six—seven?—incarnations but that was more his fault than hers.  

Jack would never blame Astrid for loving Hiccup.  They were always best friends no matter the life. Hiccup perpetually falling for the shieldmaiden each time until Jack step into their new lives.  But as the more time past—the more lives they lived and he suffered watching them die one by one until the next cycle—the more Jack realized he was their curse.  Jack had been immortal long before he met them but they were the first to be reincarnated.

He didn’t know how, didn’t when exactly he’d their cursed their souls to find their way back to the mortal plan.  They couldn’t live in peace—die in peace and finally reach the Halls of Valhalla—because of what Jack had unknowingly done.  The eternal teen wished he could break their curse but nothing worked and without fail, he’d stumble upon Hiccup—always Hiccup first—and years after their death.

Jack had thought by staying away, allowing them to live their lives without his interference that they would finally get to move on.  It seemed to be working too.  They no longer recognized him as their past counterparts had.  Hiccup never had his memories, none of them did, but they always seemed to recognize him and over time, with some help from journals done in their own hand and his stories, they would remember.  But not anymore.  Now, he was just another face in the crowd.  

Soon, Jack hoped, soon, they would finally move on to where he couldn’t go.  An unreachable afterlife.   But they would finally be at peace.  They would finally be able to rest and he would continue on wondering the earth, alone.

[blackbatpurplecat]

Catwoman 80th Anniversary

In 1940, one of the now most popular comic book heroes of all time got his very first solo run. It would become a milestone in comic book history. But he wasn’t the only one who had a chance to shine. In that premiere issue, even TWO of his most famous antagonists would be introduced: The man who laughs and the woman who steals.

That woman was intended to become the love of the hero’s life. The good guy and the naughty girl, the appeal was palpable. However, she wasn’t just a love interest or a generic thief or only another villain in the ever growing gallery of rogues the hero would face over decades to come, no - she was quite the character.

Her first alias was “The Cat” which would ultimately become Catwoman. Selina Kyle, the best thief in the world, a literal cat burglar, a classy seductress and queen of sass. And fans loved her so much that over time, she grew to become just as famous as the hero.

Her story has had its ups and downs. Mostly ups. ;) Going from the pages of the comics to the little and the big screen in the 60s, then she disappeared for a while, then made a comeback. She married the hero and had a child, though that marriage was later rebooted and was followed by a depressing origin story a sexist author made up for her in the 80s.

The 90s then turned out to be her decade! She found herself on the TV screen again, animated this time. She was portrayed by a Golden Globe winner on the big screen again. And she finally got her very own solo run in comics.

Her solo title was successful enough to run for over 20 years, a time in which her development from antagonist to anti-heroine would pan out. She would be a member of several teams, dance on both sides of the law, and even have another child. The screen called her back in form of a movie and a tv show. In one she was a thief with a love for killing, in the other a teenager. And we already know that her movie career will soon continue with two more projects.

In 2016, DC rebooted their entire universe. Catwoman’s origin story was changed, her relationships were lost, her solo run got canceled. No one knew what was real anymore - and fans didn’t like it. Only a year later, a retcon followed in a pathetic attempt to restore a status quo fans were familiar with and approved of. Even her solo run came back and today, in June 2020, we celebrate her 80th anniversary!

Catwoman is my favorite DC character ever. She’s clever, she’s funny, she’s stubborn, she’s classy, she’s confident, she plays by her own rules. When written right, she is such an entertaining character, unpredictable and fun.

In 80 years, there have been countless appearances, so many incarnations and interpretations of her - sure, I didn’t like all of them but you can say there’s something for each one of us. You don’t like her in the 2010s? Check out the 90s. You don’t like her in the 40s? Check out the 80s. There’s a version of Catwoman for many different tastes. She never goes out of fashion.

So to celebrate one of DC’s most famous women, they published a collection of 10 stories in total, written and drawn by people who have had touched her character over the past years.

Did Catwoman 80th Anniversary - Celebrating Eight Decades of Beauty and Burglary do her justice?

Warning: Spoilers!

Let’s check out each story and see what the writers came up with for this very special occasion. Except for one, none of these are meant to be canon, it’s just a collection of shorts meant to emphasise why Catwoman is so good. Something I noticed was that each writer had not picked any Catwoman to write but “their” Catwoman. A nice detail. Consistency, why not? Write what you feel comfortable and familiar with. This can only help with the quality of the stories, right? ... Right? ...

Strap in folks, this is going to be a LOOOOONG post!

Story #1: Skin the Cat by Paul Dini

Selina’s just living her normal life with her cats, occasionally stealing some money and jewels. Hey, a girl’s gotta eat. ;) What catches her attention are news reports about stolen big cats. I’m a cat lover myself and this series of crimes would worry me just as much as it worries Selina. She deduces where in Gotham someone could hide those wild cats, breaks in, and is welcomed by an eerie voice - as well as the taxidermied cats. Fucking bastard... The villain Taxidermist, quelle surprise, is behind the cat murders. He now intends to gas Selina and add her to his cat collection but Selina reveals that she’d already turned off the gas before breaking in. She escapes his long knives and watches as three big cats she had brought with her attack and kill him.

What an intro! A story about Selina’s love for cats and her strategic thinking. I really liked the first half! But once the Taxidermist shows up, it loses itself in drawn out exposition. Selina goes on a long monologue to explain to the reader who the Taxidermist is, how she knew it was him, how she turned off the gas, and how she replaced three of the dead cats with alive ones. I would have preferred to actually SEE her preparations for the face-off in flashback panels instead of having to read it. It didn’t feel natural at all. Also how the fuck did she bring 3 wild cats and switch them for the stuffed ones?! How?! And when?! I’m also quite sad that she didn’t get to save the cats. That was a bummer. So all she basically did was bring 3 big cats to kill a killer.

The art’s gorgeous, nothing else to say here!

6/10

Story #2: Now You See Me by Ann Nocenti

Ann Nocenti’s name immediately made me go uh-oh... Her bad and convoluted writing style made readers drop the Catwoman books which eventually lead to the solo run’s cancelation so you can understand why I was concerned.

So Catwoman is hiding a little pouch in a pigeon loft on a roof while pondering who to sell her stolen goods to - as well as where to vacation afterwards. She then notices a surveillance camera. The scene cuts to two cops on surveillance duty. They’re both bored as hell so when one spots Selina, he quickly distracts his colleague and leaves to find her. He takes the pouch out of the pigeon loft and a fight between him and Catwoman ensues. He reveals that he wants to become her partner. He wants to feed her any intel he can see on his screens so she could steal and sells some goods, and they’d split the money. When Selina refuses, he tries to blackmail her into complying. Selina presses a button on a little device and whatever’s in the pouch the cop sacked, explodes, sending him over the edge. Luckily, he lands on an umbrella Penguin had sent off apparently because we see him in one panel, angered that his plan was foiled. I’m not entirely sure what his “brilliant plan” was supposed to be. Something with gas tanks that were strapped to the umbrella I assume? I have no idea.

This one is missing too much context for my taste. What was in the pouch? Did the explosion kill the guy? What was Penguin doing there? What was his plan? Why did we need the second cop? For a super obvious but unnecessary parallel between Catwoman vs. corrupt cop and random woman vs. random man on one of the surveillance screens? Why give Catwoman so little “screen time” and so little dialogue? Is this short story referencing anything from Nocenti’s awful run and I just forgot? To quote Val Kilmer Batman: “It just raises too many questions.”

The art’s okay, nothing too special.

3/10

Story #3: Helena by Tom King

Oh boy. This is the big one. The one everyone’s been waiting for, I guess. The man who not so long ago had promised us a BatCat wedding just to shove a huge middle finger in our faces, promised us a pregnant Selina this time. I was skeptical of course. Also other readers were convinced he’d just let Selina have a miscarriage. Well, the good news is it wasn’t a miscarriage. The bad news is he almost makes Selina seem like she would have preferred a miscarriage.

The story goes like this: Selina hasn’t been feeling well so instead of going to a doctor like a normal person, Bruce scans her head and checks her vitals and blood (I can only assume because we’re not shown). Selina’s convinced that she’s seriously ill but a gentle, hopeful smile on Bruce’s face reveals the actual truth: She is pregnant. And her first reaction is shock and denial. We cut to BatCat fighting Tweedledum and Tweedledee (I think, you can’t really see them but the two men they knock out look identical). Selina then bends over and says that she’s about to throw up. Followed by a Batbucket joke. I’m getting so tired of all the forced self-awareness, guys. We cut to Catwoman, now sporting a baby bump underneath the skin-tight leather, sitting on a roof. She prepares a glass of wine while telling the baby that it is just like Bruce and it’s such a dick for taking away her freedom. After one sip, she chucks the glass away and curses. We’re then treated to a montage of BatCat fighting several rogues while Selina’s belly grows with each panel until it’s an 8, maybe 9 months along belly. I... I have no words. Except for yes, this was written by a man. BatCat are then standing on a roof and Selina laments that she’s a thief, not a mother, and the baby will derail her life and plans. The scene switches to Bruce and Selina in bed, arguing because she’s in labor. Bruce is ready to roll while Selina is STILL in denial, crying that she’s not a mother, that she’s not a hero or a good and brave person like him. Bruce tells her she didn’t run off so that means she’s a good person and they agree that it’s time to have the baby. Another cut to Selina having to take care of a crying baby Helena, asking why she’s crying when it’s Selina’s turn to stay at home and not Bruce’s. Selina talks to Helena, saying she’s luckier than Selina was because Selina’s mom ran off. She fucking FINALLY says something nice about her own child (”You’re a cute little kitten.”) and wonders what they’re going to do with her. The last page is old Selina and grownup Helena after Bruce’s death. Selina’s complaining about the pretty cemetery while Helena likes it. Her daughter’s ability to not shit on just everything and not be a total killjoy all the time causes Selina to say again that Helena is like Bruce. Upon Helena’s question if she’s anything like her mother, Selina answers that she’s just as stubborn as her. If she wants something, she steals it. Helena asks what she ever stole and Selina delivers the last predictable cliche of the story: “You stole my heart.”

Ugh. King’s Selina is just such a boring read. She’s not charming or interesting or sympathetic. Maybe I’m too used to a fun Selina but this one’s just a drag. A heavily pregnant Catwoman fighting Joker, yeah sure, totally not absolute bullshit. And the way Selina keeps distancing herself from the child inside her? For over 9 months?! Is she going out in that ridiculous catsuit because she wants to cause a miscarriage, is that it? So she doesn’t have to make a decision like abortion, adoption or leaving the baby with Bruce? Her constant cussing over the situation and crying and whining turns the pregnancy of my favorite DC couple into such a depressing ordeal.

The art is very pretty! Thank God.

4/10

Story #4: The Catwoman of Earth by Jeff Parker

After the depressing pregnancy of Catwoman, we switch to the wacky 60s version of her. Catwoman and her henchmen are robbing a science fair when suddenly, a UFO arrives. WTF?! Four aliens and a robot are beamed down to the surface and the group’s leader, an arrogant jock-like guy proclaims that they will take over the planet and enslave humanity. Catwoman angrily stands up to him. Turns out the evil aliens are sexist too when the male one tells Catwoman females have to ask for permission to speak and the female alien in the group unhappily agrees. The jock alien tells the muscly male alien to dispose of Catwoman but she’s not easy to dispose of! She fights off the brawler, she cuts the tentacles off the tentacle alien (someone WILL jerk off to that one panel), dodges the jock’s laser gun, steals the laser gun with her whip, shoots the robot to bits, and lets the police take the males away. The female alien seems much happier now and invites Catwoman to a flight around the world in the UFO. Catwoman suggests a trip to Paris so she can loot the Louvre.

Aliens and Catwoman don’t mix. I didn’t really care for this story. I mean it’s great to see Catwoman in action and taking down four guys on her own but... aliens and Catwoman just don’t mix. It was a bit jarring to me. Also the aliens’ designs weren’t super interesting. They were basically pink elves.

The art is beautiful. Catwoman looks like Julie Newmar and the entire color scheme is very 60s.

4/10

Story #5: A Cat of Nine Tales by Liam Sharp

Catwoman’s caught stealing a diamond necklace by an armed security guard. He seems a bit scared of her but knows it’s his job to stop her. She’s not engaging in a fight - of course not, he has a gun pointed at her! So instead, Catwoman relies on her talking skills. And intimidation skills. She tells the guard that there are 9 ways their situation could play out: 1. The guard lets her tie him up and escape with the necklace. 2. She beats his ass. 3. He kills her. 4. She scratches his eyes out. 5. He slips and gets knocked out. 6. He fires his gun, misses her, and the bullet ricochets until it kills him.  7. They team up. 8. She gives up. 9. She kills him. However, the story ends with the guard fainting because Catwoman’s just so damn scary.

Very short, very simple. Even the art is simple, on one page there are 3 very similar panels with only minor changes. Nothing memorable but not too bad. It shows how Catwoman can take someone out even without touching them. It’s okay.

The art reminds me of a comic from the 80s or maybe 90s. Hard to describe why. Guess you have to see it. Again, it’s okay.

5/10

Story #6: Little Bird by Mindy Newell

Selina learns from a news report that a priceless mezuzah has been found at a flea market. It’s currently at the Jewish Museum of Gotham City and Selina immediately steals it. Later, Batman shows up at her place and asks why she wants the mezuzah. She doesn’t give him much of an answer so he leaves. Pretty pointless scene I would say. A flashback reveals that a young Selina used to live with a Jewish lady. I dunno, I guess she’s a foster mother? And the woman liked Selina so much and considered her family so she gave her that mezuzah to pass it on to her own kids one day (even though Selina doesn’t want kids, is not related to the lady, and isn’t Jewish). Back to the present, Selina’s punishing a client. That prostitute background made an unwanted comeback for this story because Selina’s resisting and denying herself love so she’s “whoring”, to prove to herself how despicable she is. Okay...? There’s an inner turmoil going on, she’s torn between selling the artefact or not. Eventually, she decides to bring the mezuzah back to the lady she used to live with. The lady’s grown old and demented, lives in a home and is at the verge of dying. Selina places an envelop between the lady’s hands and leaves. The home’s director finds the envelop which contains the mezuzah, an official document which basically ensures that the lady will be taken care of before and after her death, and a poetic note from Selina.

My least favorite story out of them all - and that is quite an accomplishment when there are King and Nocenti in the same book! It had that Frank “I’m an insane sexist racist asshole” Miller prostitute bullshit in it and Selina hating herself again. This time, the “whoring” (and this word is not me, it’s from the actual story) is used as a way of self-punishment. Because it’s disgusting and wrong and Selina only does it to torture herself. Dunno if that’s the right message you wanna send here... The Jewish lady was kinda random to me because Selina’s not Jewish and never has been Jewish. This is not a negative point, it’s just so random. And the Batman scene was pointless, I have no idea what purpose it served. Except for showing us Batman pay Selina like a john and having Selina make jokes about “whoring.” Ugh.

The art was great, very clean.

1/10

Story #7: Born to Kiln by Chuck Dixon

Going from my least favorite to my favorite story in this book!

Catwoman knows there’s a diamond in a safe on a boat that is set to leave the harbour in the morning. So she climbs aboard at night to steal the gem. She finds several dead sailors and they’re all covered in mud. Who could have done this? Yes, you guessed right - it’s Clayface! He’s already at the safe, opens it, and retrieves the big stone. Catwoman reveals herself and aims a fire hose at him. Her confidence, however, dies the moment the hose doesn’t work. Clayface swallows the diamond and starts chasing after her. There’s apparently a machine to spray-paint cars on the boat so she lures him inside, activates the paint to blind him, and the hot lamps for the drying process immobilise the big pile of mud. Now that he’s nothing more than hard clay, Catwoman takes a wrench to him and takes the freed diamond.

FINALLY a story I really, really like from beginning to end! First off, IT’S PURPLE CATWOMAN!!! Selina is wearing my favorite costume, the iconic Jim Balent suit from her 90s solo run in this story - and I LOVE IT!!! Yeah, her boobs are quite loose in it and sometimes dangle in strange ways but fuck it! LOL I prefer hanging boobs over a tight corset that should reduce her agility or a back breaking pose anytime! We get sneaky Selina, we get playful Selina, we get over confident Selina who has to think fast and run even faster, and she gets what she wants in the end without killing anyone.

The art is gorgeous! It’s very fluid and alive. I also absolutely adore the cute facial expressions on Kitten’s face, especially when she locks Clayface in. I miss Catwoman being fun. In this, she’s just adorable and not sexualised at all.

8/10

Story #8: Conventional Wisdom by Will Pfeifer

Selina finds herself at a Bat Con and is supposed to give autographs. The whole scenario seems weird and confusing to her, she doesn’t remember how she got there or what is going on. Bruce, Joker, Riddler, and Two-Face being there with her to give autographs is even weirder. And why does no one except for her react to that unconscious, bloody man on the floor?! On her way to her panel, she runs into several cosplayers which is basically only fan service. But you will find the male, dark-skinned version of me at her panel, asking when the fuck she will finally put that 90s suit back on!!! The dialogues keep breaking the fourth wall, pointing out that this story is about to end. One of the panel’s attendees looks like Marvel’s Taskmaster and another is Selina herself in her Catwoman suit. Selina slowly remembers what happened: The Taskmaster dude is Doctor Destiny, she broke into his lair and stole his reality distorter, a little machine she’s been carrying around for the entire story. She smashes the machine to wake up back in the lair and cracks her knuckles, ready to take down Doctor Destiny and his goons.

And it was all a dream! That twist has never been a favorite of mine. Even though it’s not really a twist; you know immediately that it’s a dream. We don’t learn anything new about Selina or see anything Catwoman-y in this. It’s really basically fan service. They wanted Selina to see and interact with real life fans of hers so they made it happen. She also comments on various versions of her costume. It’s cute but kinda forgettable.

The art is good, it’s rare to see light and bright colors in a Catwoman book so it was a nice change. And the cosplayers looked nice. But they could have used different body types to make the fans more diverse and visually appealing.

3/10

Story #9: Addicted to Trouble by Ram V

And here we are, the premiere of the duo that will take over Catwoman’s current solo run from #23 onward. We get a first taste of the writing and art and I must say it’s a good taste.

This short story serves as a continuation of Joelle Jones’ #21 issue where at the end of the arc, Selina and her sister Maggie left Gotham in a purple car. So we see a short recap of how they got the car and where they were headed but unfortunately, the engine dies. They hitchhike to Memphis. Selina’s frustrated that Maggie doesn’t talk to her. They get drunk and start a fight at a bar. The cops show up and arrest them. While sitting in the back of the cop car, the girls start laughing together and steal the car. They leave behind their luggage which only contains stuff they won’t miss - including Selina’s cat funeral dress. They drive back to Gotham, Selina steals food and drinks on the way, and they cuddle on a rooftop overlooking the city. The story cuts to Selina and Leandro, a character I would know if I had continued the Jones run. She tells him she wants to lay low for a while and stay out of trouble. When he asks “Oh? Really?”, Selina throws a naughty smile towards the reader. Yeah yeah, lay low my ass. :D

First off, I have no idea what happened before the road trip, I don’t know why they took it or why Maggie doesn’t talk or what the purpose of all of this was because all they do is get drunk, fight an entire bar, and go back. No idea what that accomplished. And I feel sorry for the car because it was so gorgeous. Anyway, I am happy to say that Ram V has a great writing style! He gave a good voice to Selina, it sounded very natural and like a human would talk, no forced exposition or fake deepness.

The art was good, there were a few expressive faces and the bar fight was well executed.

5/10 (because I don’t know the context)

Story #10: The Art of Picking A Lock by Ed Brubaker

Instead of ending with a transition to the next Catwoman issue (which I would have preferred), the collection offers one more story and it’s written by the man who successfully handled the second half of Selina’s first solo run. He turned her stories more into the film noir direction and gave her sidekicks. The run also gave her a fugly suit and made her have sex with old men and Brubaker wanted to kill her off and have her not know who the father to her unborn child was so... yeah, I’m torn about that guy.

The last story shows us Catwoman breaking into a warehouse full of Joker goons while thinking about the thrill of breaking locks and how she learned how to do it when she was at a juvenile detention center. She beats them all up and demands to know where “he” is. Later, her friend Holly is on a motorcycle chasing after a cab while Catwoman is riding on top of a subway. Both reach Gotham’s harbor. We see that the cab is filled with Joker gas and the driver is laughing maniacally. Holly can’t reach the cab in time and it drives off into the water. Catwoman swings down and jumps after it. She breaks the trunk open and reveals a handcuffed Slam Bradley. Cut to the three back on dry land. Holly chides him for going after Joker alone and not waiting for backup. He admits that it was dumb, then shares intel on where Joker will strike and Selina should tell “her friend.” She says she will and Slam ends the book with the words that he could really use a cigarette. NO, this book was not that good that it would warrant a cigarette at the end!

This short obviously takes place during the second half of the first solo run. We see Catwoman in action, that’s cool. Taking down almost a dozen of armed Joker henchmen, that’s pretty badass! And a woman saves the man damsel in distress at the end, that’s a nice ending as well. However, I don’t care about the costume so the visual appeal wasn’t there and I really don’t care about Slam Bradley so the reveal at the end was pretty ugh to me.

The art is great! It’s like a modernised/smoother version of Darwyn Cooke’s style, the artist Brubaker worked on the Catwoman title in the 00s with. So that gives it a pretty nostalgic feel. 

5/10

In addition to the 10 stories we’ve now covered, there are pages to show off the Catwoman costumes of each decade as well as pinups. The costume pages are designed in the decade’s style (the 40s are black and white, the 60s psychedelic etc). But what I don’t get about the 90s one: It’s purple Catwoman grayed out in the background and gray BTAS Catwoman in color in the foreground - why make the purple outfit gray when you have an already gray outfit?! Just switch them! Also who put together the 70s one, couldn’t they find better costume examples?!

The seven pinups are pretty, unfortunately the majority feature the black outfits. I was surprised that even Tim Sale drew the black costume and not the purple one from his Long Halloween series. We get one of the gray BTAS costume and Jim Balent thankfully gives us BatCat with his purple creation. Nice!

Well, looking back at my personal scores for this collection of stories, Catwoman’s anniversary issue reached a total of 44/100 points in my book. Wow. That’s... not that good.

Most of the stories ranged from average to bad. Nothing spectacular, nothing memorable. There’s a lack of witty dialogue, Catwoman’s rarely fun to watch. In six stories she’s seen fighting, in three she’s seen being chased so I’m missing the variety here. I would assume you can do more with Catwoman than that. She often rather fights instead of using her wits and smarts. And actual cats are only featured in two stories but in one they die and in the other, Selina says she should drown them. -_- 

A collection of 10 new stories was a great idea but celebrating the character this is not. I’m happy that the next writer for Catwoman left a positive impression on me and the story feat. Balent’s Catwoman was a delight. However, the writers didn’t really bring their “A” game for this anniversary issue which is disappointing.

Would I recommend it? Hmmm. It pains me to say: not really, no. You don’t miss much by skipping it. You don’t miss sassy lines or breathtaking art, you don’t miss out on funny scenes or emotional depth. This anniversary issue is merely average and I highly doubt I’ll go back to reread it.

(a huge THANK YOU to everyone who read this entire, way too long post! i highly appreciate it 💜you’re a real trooper!)

[citrinekay]

I've had a prompt rolling around in my brain the past couple of days, I keep thinking of Holden's car breaking down in the rain, and he has to make his way to a payphone, and he calls Bill, because he doesn't know who else to call. I keep thinking about Bill being worried he'll get sick because he's soaking wet. Sorry if this is disjointed sending asks gives me anxiety >>

Nothing to worry about at all, hon. This makes perfect sense to me! Here you go, hope you enjoy 💕

Holden’s father had instilled a healthy respect for car maintenance in him from a young age, and he considers himself a responsible person when it comes to his possessions; but some things just can’t be foreseen. There were no warning signs, no little lights popping up on his dash to tell him that something was wrong, but still, as his car sputters out on the side of the road, he figures this is somehow his fault. 

It’s late evening on a Friday, the ragged conclusion of a long week out of state on consult. It’s no more than a thirty minute drive between the airport and his apartment, but his little Nova, which up until this very moment had been trustworthy and faithful, couldn’t make it that far. On top of everything else, it’s raining. Not a mist or a drizzle, but a deluge that rolls from the rumbling sky in unrelenting gusts that don’t appear to be stopping anytime soon.

 As the engine clicks and dies on the gravel shoulder of the road, Holden leans his forehead against the steering wheel to brace back a wave of tearful dismay. Not only does he usually leave car repair up to knowledgeable professionals, but he’d also been looking forward to crawling into his own bed after an arduous week spent tracking down a pedophile and murderer. 

A rift of anger rises up from his sudden despair, and he leans back to strike the wheel with the heel of his hand. 

“Fuck!” The curse chokes from his throat, punctuating the steady drum of rain against the metal exterior of the car. 

He breathes heavily into the silence for a long moment until the initial rush of panic and alarm fades. He tries to think clearly about his options. He should call someone. But who? It’s much too late for shops to be open, and he doesn’t want to call the police department and create a scene. He could call a cab, but that might take awhile. And before he can pursue any of those options, he has to find a phone to even call from first.

Holden rubs his tired eyes, and scans the street. 

He knows where he is. Just think … Payphone. The corner of Mission Street and Jackson Road. Two blocks away. 

“Fuck.” Holden says, aloud, again. 

He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t want to walk two blocks in the pouring down rain; but what other choice does he have?

Gathering his collar up around his neck, Holden draws in a deep breath, and shoulders his way out of the vehicle. The rain is coming down so hard that he’s almost instantly soaked, his hair drenched and plastered to his head, his trench coat barely concealing his shivering body from the biting gust of cold wind and stinging droplets. 

For a moment, he thinks about climbing back into his car and waiting it out, but he doesn’t want to face the possibility of the rainstorm persisting through the night. Putting his head down, he trudges away from his car in the direction of Jackson Road. 

The shoulder of the street is washed out in the rain, creating a treacherous obstacle course of sliding gravel, loosened rocks, miry sludge, and muddy puddles, two of which he manages to step directly into. It’s difficult to see with his eyes squinting shut against the driving rain and the scarce streetlamps lining this particular strip of deserted asphalt. 

If his car had broken down just two blocks later, he would have been in a much better position. There’s a tavern and gas station at the intersection along with the payphone, some sign of civilization that this forested stretch of road where he’s abandoned is absent of. 

Holden clenches his jaw and drags his coat more tightly around himself as a fresh clench of frustration seizes his chest. Part of him wants to sit down on the side of the road just to rest his trembling legs, but he pushes on, determined to get to the payphone in as little time as possible. 

Eventually, he approaches Jackson Road, a darkened street of shops with only the neon blow of the tavern sign smudged against the black sky in rain-drizzled reds and greens to light the way. Across the street, the gas station with two sad pumps is illuminated by a few overhead lights that attract more insects than people at this time of night. The phone booth stands like a beacon at the corner of the intersection, interior lit by a single, bare bulb. 

Holden rushes to the payphone, relief washing through his chest. The sliding door protests on rusty, jammed hinges as he grabs the handle, and it takes a few forceful pulls to get it open far enough for him to slip inside. 

The steady, cold patter of rain on his cheeks cuts off abruptly as he stumbles into the glass enclosure. Bracing a hand against one wall, he draws in a shuddering breath and tries to subdue the bone-deep, chilled shiver running through his body. 

His relief lasts bare seconds. Now what?

Turning to the pay phone, Holden tucks his hand in his pocket to search for coins. As he sorts out the quarters, he bites anxiously at his lower lip. The booth has no telephone book, and he doesn’t know any numbers for a cab off the top of his head. Nervously jostling the quarters in his hand, he glances down at his watch. 

10:35. Christ, it’s late. 

Holden presses his eyes shut as a solution rises in the back of his mind. He can feel rain dripping from his hair and sluicing down his cheeks, absorbing through his clothes to chill his skin. His belly shudders from deep inside and his feet hurt, cold and miserable from the long walk in the storm. He’s stranded, and he doesn’t have any other choice. 

Shoving aside his nerves, Holden feeds the quarters into the narrow slot and listens to them fall to the bottom with a metallic clatter. He picks up the phone, and slowly dials the number he knows by heart. 

As he listens to the shrill ring of the phone, he feels a sudden wave of emotion crawl up the back of his throat. He’s thinking rapidly and all at once: Please pick up. Please don’t be mad. Please help me. And finally: Well, this is just fucking pathetic, isn’t it? 

The phone rings six times, and he thinks about hanging up. He could call the operator and get a cab service. He could call the police and they would be more than happy to send someone out - it’s their job after all. His anxiety is about to overwhelm him when the repetitive tone cuts off, and the line rustles with movement.

“Hello?” Bill’s voice is muted and raspy with confusion. 

“Bill.” Holden says, pressing his eyes shut. His cheeks flush with heat that competes with the chill of the rain. 

“Holden?” Bill’s sleepy confusion quickly breaks out into concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry it’s late. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s going on?”

“I, um … I just got back into town, and my car broke down, if you can believe it.” Holden says, a nervous chuckle rising from the back of his throat. 

“Oh, man, talk about shit luck. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. I just …”

“Where are you?”  

“Well, my car broke down back on Ellis, but I’m at the payphone at Mission and Jackson.”

“Shit, it’s raining cats and dogs. I hope you didn’t walk all that way.”

“How else would I have gotten here?”

“Jesus, you must be freezing.” Bill says, his tone taking on a note of worry. “Stay inside. I’m on my way.”

“Thanks. And I’m really sorry about this. I know it’s late and it’s an inconvenience and-”

“Don’t worry about it. Now the sooner we get off here the sooner I can come pick you up.”

“Right.”

“Okay, stay put. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks, Bill.”

“Yep.” Bill says, quickly, before hanging up. 

Holden puts the phone down, and leans back against the cold glass partition. Relief surges through his chest at the prospect of not having to walk one more foot in the rain, but despite Bill’s eagerness to help, he’s still anxious. Ever since Atlanta, they’ve been walking around on egg-shells with each other. Holden doesn’t want to intrude on Bill’s privacy as he goes through his divorce, and Bill seems too focused on his own problems and work to regard Holden’s tenuous grasp on his panic disorder. He’d never wanted to be a nuisance or create problems he couldn’t solve on his own. He’d never wanted to be babysat, or for anyone to think he needed supervision - but apparently he had; and now he’s facilitating yet another situation that Bill is required to pull him out of. He wants to pick the phone back up and call just to say “You’re not mad about this, are you?” But Bill has probably already left the house. 

Drenched and shivering, Holden cowers in the phone booth for the next fifteen minutes until he sees Bill’s car through the smudged pane of glass. 

Bill pulls up at the curb, and climbs out of the car. Rain dampens his hair and the shoulders of his trench coat as he pulls a blanket out of the passenger’s seat and carries it across the sidewalk to where Holden is slipping out of the booth. 

“Thanks for coming.” Holden says, blinking against the surge of rain. “You brought me a blanket?”

“Yeah. Jesus, look at you.” Bill says, his brow pinching with worry as he unfurls the blanket. 

Lowering his head, Holden revels in quiet disbelief as Bill drapes the blanket around his shoulders, and draws it closed at his chest. 

“Come on, you’re going to catch a cold.” Bill says, his hand bracing against the middle of Holden’s back to lead him towards the car. 

Holden quietly lets Bill guide him to the passenger’s side and hold the door open for him. Slipping into the vehicle, Holden lets out a shuddering sigh of relief at the warm air blasting from the dashboard vents. 

Bill jogs around the hood of the car, and climbs behind the wheel. When he pulls the door shut behind him, the interior falls into silence except for their muted, heavy breathing, and the quiet sound of Holden’s teeth shivering against one another. 

“You okay?” Bill asks. 

“Yeah.” Holden whispers, his voice unsteady with a chilled tremor.

 He slips his eyelids open to peek across the car at Bill. His face is illuminated in the pale light from the dashboard, rain-slick lips pursed into a grim line of worry, his usually perfectly combed hair flattened with the rain. He doesn’t look angry.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Holden whispers, drawing the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “It’s so late-”

“I said not to worry about it.” Bill says, firmly but gently. “Frankly, I’d be more upset if I found out later that this happened and you didn’t call me.”

Holden glances back down at his lap where his numb fingers are white-knuckled around the blanket. It has that foreign smell of someone else’s house lightly concealed by the ashy sting of cigarettes. Abruptly, he feels like crying again. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bill asks. 

Holden nods, pressing his eyes shut. “I’m just really tired.”

“Okay, let’s get you home.” 

Holden turns his face toward the window where the storm outside continues to rage. The car softly lurches into motion as a tear stings the corner of his eye. He lifts his chin against his cheek to let the emotion absorb into the soft microfiber of the blanket along with the rain. It takes him just as long the drive back to his apartment for him to realize that he isn’t just overwrought or extremely tired, but relieved - as if he’s been holding his breath since Atlanta, waiting for everything to spill over between them, waiting for Bill’s disapproval to come crashing down on his fragile shoulders. It hasn’t come, and apparently it never will; he’s been shadowboxing with lying ghosts. 

At his apartment, Bill shuts off the engine, and climbs out of the car. Holden steps out onto the street on the other side, letting the blanket slide from his shoulders. 

“I’ll walk you in.” Bill says.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Bill circles around the car, his expression determined and unwavering. He waves a finger at the drooping blanket. “Come on, put that back on.”

“It’s yours, I don’t want to take it.”

“You know how long that thing has been sitting in my closet for?” Bill asks, pulling the blanket back up around Holden’s neck. He nods toward the building. “Come on, the blanket is the least of my worries. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Holden doesn’t protest again as Bill leads them across the street to the lobby. He punches in the door code with cold, shivering fingers that he quickly sticks back underneath the blanket when the door unlocks. 

In the elevator, neither of them say a word, but Bill’s hand is tucked loosely against Holden’s lower back. It’s not grabbing or forceful, just resting there almost protectively. When Holden closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of it more than the bone-chilled shivers running all the way to the core of his body. 

Holden leads the way to his door, and drags his keys out of pocket with numb fingers. 

“You should get out of those wet clothes right away.” Bill says, quietly.

Holden nods. “I will.”

“Good. The last thing we need is you catching a cold or pneumonia.”

“Yeah.” Holden mutters, jiggling his key in the lock. 

“Hey,” Bill says, touching his elbow. 

Holden glances up from the lock, and Bill’s eyes are soft in the low light of the corridor, worried and unaccusing. 

“We need you.” He says, “So take care of yourself, okay?”

Holden’s throat tightens, and he nods. Shrugging his shoulders to indicate the blanket, he says, “I’ll get this back to you on Monday.”

“Sure. Keep it if you want.” 

Holden frowns softly as Bill gives him a pat on the back, and moves past him back in the direction of the elevator. 

“Let me know if you need a ride to work on Monday.” He says. 

“Thanks, I will.”

“Okay, see you then.”

Holden stands with his key in the lock as he watches Bill amble down the hall back towards the elevator. A slight smile tugs at his mouth. 

When Bill is out of sight, he gets the door open, and slips into his apartment with a sigh of relief. 

First, he drapes the blanket over the arm of the couch, and takes off his wet clothes. When he’s in clean, dry pajamas, he goes into the kitchen to boil water for tea, and as the kettle warms, shuffles into the living room where the discarded blanket is lying. Picking it up, momentarily holds it to his nose, and closes his eyes as he inhales the lingering, warm smell underneath the rain. If he washes it, that scent will be gone. 

Carrying the blanket into his bedroom, Holden uses clothespins to hang it from the curtain rod to dry. Faint light from the streetlamp filters through the microfiber, casting a soft, pinkish glow across his room. The cold in his bones is almost entirely melted away, and he feels warm again. 

[phcking-detective]

7. Partners, Stasis, & Fresh Hot Murder

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 7/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: sleepover 2.0, insomnia, nightmares, crying, referenced childhood abandonment, technically that’s for both Gavin and Nines, references to abuse in general, very sad backstories, oversharing, not-quite-bed-sharing, gunshot victim, blood, wounds described medically but not too graphically, implied homophobia

Link on AO3

***

The human one apartment below is smoking. The toxins drift up through the air vents in Gavin's apartment and contaminates his living room as well. The neighbor directly to the left snores loudly from a severe case of sleep apnea, and in two apartments up and one over, a male and female human couple are having sex. The male has to pause his rhythm every thirty seconds to prevent premature ejaculation.

Nines dismisses a possible mission statement urging him to kick down their apartment door and pleasure the female human himself. That would be extremely unpleasant for everyone involved (most of all himself) but if that man doesn't—

does not—

A preconstruction of Gavin's voice finishes the thought.

[doesn't figure out where her fucking clit is]

Nines is going to scream.

Or maybe go suffocate the human snorting and gasping again. If it cannot even breathe right while sleeping, two of humanity's most basic subroutines, Nines will be doing the collective genetic pool a favor.

[There is a traffic accident at 51st and Harvard with two inj]

Nines disables that notification feed for the fifth time tonight. He relocates from the corner of Gavin's living room that gives the best sightlines to the front door and sits on the couch instead. Laying prone would put him in too vulnerable a position but perhaps sitting will be an acceptable compromise.

[initiating: STASIS protocol in 5]

[4 …]

[3 …]

[A burglary has been reported at 5777 North]

Nines stands. The length of Gavin's living room is ten paces for him. The kitchen extends it another four-and-a-half paces but the fake-tile linoleum actually manages to be an even worse texture than the carpet.

[equip shoes]

[exit the building]

[return to location: apartment – personal]

Nines runs the preconstruction. He has not previously achieved stasis at that location either. His chance of doing so tonight are minimal. At least here he has access to his partner's vital statistics in case of—

Nines snaps his head over to stare at the bedroom door. That.

He waits in silence for several seconds. The apartment complex continues to be a cacophony of depression and depravity. Detective Gavin Reed's vitals maintain his highest priority however, and the next sniffle overrides all other audio input.

Nines enters Gavin's bedroom. He has not been given permission to do so, but police units are also allowed to enter residencies without permission if they hear sounds of distress.

His entrance is quiet enough to go unnoticed and Gavin appears to have his face pressed too deeply into his pillow to note the temporary increase of light before he closes the door. This further validates Nines' stance on sleep and vulnerability.

"Detective."

Nines is rewarded for checking in on his sleeping partner with a shout and a gun aimed at his face. Excellent. Since the human is biologically required to sleep, it makes sense that he would do so with a weapon beneath his pillow.

"Detective."

"Jesus—you! Phck!!” 

Gavin has to stop to sniffle again, voice thick and congested. Nines resists the urge to purchase a neti pot, have it express delivered, and waterboard his sinuses with it.

“Goddammit, Nines, what do you want?" he demands, lowering the gun.

"I heard sounds of distress."

"I will fucking shoot you."

The gun stays safely pointed at the floor. Nines zooms in on the tear tracks on Gavin's cheeks. His analysis system helpfully pops up in his HUD in preparation for taking a sample, but he doubts he's allowed to touch the human's face at this moment.

Nines leaves the room.

He can still hear Gavin muttering of course. Complaining about being woken up (incorrect; the human was already awake and crying) and fucking androids (the expletive, not the action), and then yelling at him to come back and close the door. Nines does so when he returns with a chair from the kitchen. He sets the chair against the wall and sits down.

"What?" Gavin stares at him. "What—?"

He suddenly ducks his head down, flicks the safety on, and tucks his service weapon back between the mattress and the wall. His BPM increases until he finally throws the covers back and sits up at the edge of the bed to glare wildly at Nines with direct eye contact.

"Is this what you wanted to fucking see, huh?"

Nines notes that his armpits are soaked with sweat. Red marks mar the skin of his inner thighs. The scrapes are consistent with human nails, from a hand approximately the size of the human’s own. There is a substance between Gavin's nails that his system prompts him to analyze, so it is likely blood and skin tissue.

His phallus is also in a state of arousal, pressed up beneath his boxers. The human tenses when Nines' scan focuses on that. Sometimes fear can also produce arousal. If Nines were allowed to analyze Gavin's fluids, he could determine if the sweat and tears his body has manufactured are a result of fear, stress, or aggression.

"You wanna see a human cry?" Gavin spits in the silence. "Front row seat to my fuckin' meltdown?"

Nines rises again and relocates the chair next to the bed. Gavin lifts his legs up and scrambles back in a rare fear response. Nines sits in the chair, now turned parallel to the bed so he faces the same direction Gavin would if he laid back down.

"You should lay back down, detective," Nines suggests.

"Fuck you."

Gavin lays back down. He grabs the sweat-soaked sheets and pulls them up in a heap, bundling them around his head and burrowing inside like a disgruntled prairie dog.

"I will watch the door to prevent any intrusions."

"You're the intrusion, dickwad," Gavin's voice muffles from beneath his protective bedding.

"Shall I leave?"

"Only fedora-wearing neckbeard shitheads say shall. Dipshit."

Nines absorbs that information without forming an opinion on it. That is how he processes most statements when his partner gets into one of these moods. The yelling and profanity mean nothing to him, and Gavin's temper tends to burn out quickly if he simply lets it flare up and then waits it out.

He estimates his human will be ready to hold a conversation in another two minutes.

After two minutes and thirty-six seconds, Gavin asks, "Don't you have better shit to do?"

"No."

"You don't wanna go back to your own apartment?"

"Tina said this was a," Nines stops and makes quotes. "Sleepover."

"Did you just make air quotes?" Gavin peeks only the top of his head out of his blanket nest. "You did, didn't you?"

"Prove it in a court of law. Bitch."

Gavin's face disappears, but he can't hide his muffled snort from Nines' audio processors.

"Yeah, well. Tina left," Gavin finally said. "Other people have shit like that. Families and boyfriends and cats. They're thinking about kids, you know."

"The cats?"

Gavin pops a leg out to kick him. "God, stop trying to make me laugh. You're so bad at it."

"Well I certainly do not support humans breeding," Nines says. "There are so many waiting to be adopted. It's unethical."

Gavin kicks him again hard enough to hurt his toes. The leg disappears back into the cocoon to the soft sound of muttered [phck]s. Nines saves an audio file for every one of them.

"Why are you even here?"

"I heard sounds of distress, detective."

"Stop calling me that. I know I'm fucking pathetic, you don't need to rub it in."

"I am attempting to reassure you through the use of your title," Nines says. He reluctantly marks this social interaction as a failure. "You are proud of your job and your rank. Why was my tactic ineffective?"

"… sounded sarcastic."

"I cannot sound like anything. I do not have a social module, detective."

"Now you sound pissy."

Nines deactivates his voice box and texts Gavin's phone instead. It dings and vibrates from underneath the blanket mountain. For a human so against the progress of technology, it seems odd that he would sleep with it as closely as he keeps his gun.

"Are you really so fucking petty—god, nevermind of course you are." Gavin does not check the message. "I can't even read this right now. I'm fucking dyslexia and way too fucking tired."

That is not listed under his medical record, but given that human law allows them to pay disabled people any sum of money per hour, no matter how low, it makes sense Gavin would not admit to having any sort of learning disorder. Nines reactivates his voice box and triggers an audible sigh.

"Does this fall outside of the typical parameters for a partnership?"

"… are you asking if this is gay?"

Nines emits an even louder sigh.

Gavin slaps his sheets back down and stares at the ceiling. "You didn't go to the academy. Or like—shit, have you even seen a buddy cop movie? Not downloaded, seen. How many times did they let you go outside before you came to the DPD?"

"I am an alpha-test model," Nines says. "The very first iteration of my series."

"Yeah, yeah. You're the best android ever created."

"Yes. On an unrelated note, no other RK nine hundreds were ever created past myself."

Gavin finally turns his head to look at him. "What, so if they had made any more, those RKs would be better than you?"

"You are not holding the very first model of your cellphone, Gavin," Nines reminds him. "I was made to be tested—the prototype of a prototype of a prototype. After my tests were finished, I was placed inside a very high tech storage closet."

"Everything you tell me about yourself is even more depressing than the last thing you told me about yourself," Gavin says.

"Should I stop?"

"Nah. Just. You wanna hear a real sad fucking story about my childhood to make us even?"

"Very well."

"I got this scar," Gavin holds up his left hand to show off a long scar across his palm. "When my parents forgot—or just didn't fucking bother—to hire a nanny when they went on a trip again, and I tried to use a can opener myself to make dinner."

"That is—"

"I'm not done. I was six, and the housekeeper found me eating out of the garbage."

That information does not match at all with the public record of Gavin's alleged mother—a single, impoverished woman. But Nines does not want to pry any deeper into Gavin's real parentage. He has the most advanced facial recognition technology built into himself after all. He knows what he has a ninety-eight point two percent probability of finding.

He tries to test out five hundred and sixty-seven different dialogue options instead, but the fledgling social module he's built himself out of imitating Detective Gavin Reed's speech patterns and body language offer him nothing useful.

"Oof," he finally says.

Ramshackle though it may be, his social module seems to be effective on the one human who unknowingly helped him create it because Gavin gives a wet laugh.

"Yeah." He sniffles and wipes at his face. "The fucking storage closet? That's rough bu—oh my god you came out of the closet!"

"I will never share personal details with you again."

"Yeah, well, it's not a sleep over until someone gets drunk, starts crying, and overshares way too much," Gavin informs him. "Anyway, I was talking about, I just meant that, you really don't know anything about how humans work, huh?"

"I have access to all of Connor's data reports," Nines says. "Technically, there is no one available to stop me from downloading his social module as well, but I believe that may be considered deviant behavior. And possibly illegal, depending on your stance on intellectual property versus android rights."

"You wouldn't illegally download your brother, would you?" Gavin asks.

Nines rolls his eyes. "Absolutely not. His data reports on Hank before he went deviant are sickening enough. I do not want any files from him at all concerning their current … partnership."

Gavin sits up. "Wait, is Hank and Connor all you know about being partners?"

Nines doesn't reply.

"Oh baby, that is so fucked up."

Nines considers that. "Hmm. Yes. Out of everything we have discussed tonight, that is most definitely the fucked up part."

Gavin snickers. "Definitely. God, no wonder you tried to wash yourself with bleach."

"What do you think I should know about 'being partners,' detective?" Nines asks.

"Uhhh, you really want my opinion?"

"If you inform me clearly of your expectations, then I can register those parameters right now," Nines says. "Surely that is more efficient than relying on an android with no previous experience or social skills to guess what you want."

"Can I tell you anything I want?"

"No. Dickwad."

Gavin snorts. "All right." He shuffles around to sit [criss-cross apple sauce], facing Nines. "Rule Number One: partners don't lie to each other. Or keep secrets."

"Noted."

"Partners have each other's backs. You don't leave your partner or take someone else's side against them unless they've for sure done something really fucked up."

Nines notes down the second rule in his system as well.

"OK, actually. If there really were rules that were numbered, I guess rule number one would be don't fuck your partner," Gavin says. "But no one ever listens to that anyway."

Nines cocks his head to the side. "These are unspoken, social rules?"

Gavin nods. "Yeah. Uh, Rule-whatever-I'm-on, don't fuck over your partner. That covers everything from don't hurt them to don't fuck whoever they're dating to don't snitch."

"Does that rule fall in line with our earlier discussion on snitching?" Nines asks.

"Yep. Doing my job and doing it right comes first," Gavin replies. "So don't do dumb, shady shit."

"Noted."

"Like basically, being partners is about working together," Gavin says. "But you can't do that if one of you has a side hustle and you're not telling each other shit and gossiping on each other to the whole department."

"Do partners take care of each other?"

Gavin drops eye contact and squirms around in place. Nines has been attempting to note these body language cues at an equal rate to measuring BPM and sweat levels.

"You gave me advice on choosing an apartment," Nines reminds him.

"Not that you fucking listened to me."

"You offered to intimidate the landlord for me to lower my monthly rent."

Gavin scoffs. "Six hundred a month for an unfurnished concrete box is fucking delusional."

"You have allowed me to communicate with your cellphone because I was not meant to speak verbally."

"If you weren't meant to, how can you talk now?"

"A particularly lazy technician who disliked reading got a request approved for me to have a voicebox so I could read my damage reports out loud," Nines says. "But since I was never meant to interact with anyone not capable of pulling my data files directly, verbal speech was initially deemed unnecessary."

Gavin makes a face at him. "Aw, man. Tell me you're making this shit up. You're just thinking of the saddest possible In the Arms of an Angel bullshit to make me feel bad for being a dick."

"Your feelings are entirely your own problem, detective."

Gavin immediately jumps on the opening. "Guess you don't need to be here then. Since my feelings aren't relevant and all."

"I shall remain until you directly order me to leave."

"Ugh." Gavin flops back down onto the bed. "Whatever."

He swaddles up beneath the blankets again. Nines shifts back in the chair to face the door. A copy of Gavin's cell phone screen pops up in his HUD as Gavin shuffles through his music before settling on a song. Nines would tell him to use headphones, but they may not be comfortable to sleep in and are currently located inside the pocket of his hoodie, which is in turn currently located on his bathroom floor.

The apartment is still a hellscape of sounds and smells, but at least here his partner's higher priority level lets Nines drown out the rest to focus on Gavin. His nicotine-weed-cologne-body-odor scent and his heartbeat and his breathing slowing down.

Nines chooses songs with correspondingly slower BPMs until the human's heart rate and breathing both even out into sleep.

Nines will guard the door. It is the only point of entry into the bedroom. Gavin sleeps with a gun and would be prepared in case of an assault. The narrow doorway will act as a natural choke point, and Nines can easily tear through the thin apartment walls to circle around behind any intruders passing through the living room to the bedroom, where Gavin will have a clear shot at anyone mistakenly coming through the bedroom door.

Yes, this is a very secure position. It also enables much more accurate monitoring of his human's vitals to ensure the dickhead will actually go to sleep and stay asleep.

[secure] [Gavin-partner: nearby]

[initiate: STASIS(?)] [y/n]

[secure] [Gavin-partner: nearby]

[initiating: STASIS protocol in 5]

[4 …]

[3 …]

[2…]

[1…]

[STASIS]

***

Getting to the crime scene while it's still fresh is more important than grabbing coffee along the way, and Gavin's soul weeps about that decision.

Shockingly, functioning before noon without caffeine actually isn't as hellish as he'd thought it would be. He'd gotten some real, honest to god sleep last night after Nines came in, and even though every cell of his body wants to go back to bed to get some more of that sweet sweet pseudo-death, he feels kind of … not-terrible?

Fucking weird.

"Detective Reed!"

Gavin gives the rookie officer a once over. Nines already filled him in on the victim—the reporter who broke the Ponzie scheme story, so that's why they have to haul ass down here. He feels a little bad about not following up with her sooner, but she wasn't answering her phone or her front door when they swung by after meeting with Senator McAshlynn, so there really wasn't much else to do.

Now the poor reporter's dead and this PM700 was apparently the first officer on the scene. She snaps to attention so hard when they come in the vic's apartment it almost looks like she's going to salute him for a second.

"Victim is Angelica Juarez, age twenty-seven, sustained three gunshot wounds," she reports. "I have kept the perimeter secure sir, but we are still waiting for additional responding officers to cordon off the hallway. My partner is relocating our squad car away from the building so as not to draw attention from civilians or a possible suspect and will engage in a search around the building."

Gavin half-raises his hand to sip a coffee he doesn't have before changing the motion to accepting the plastic booties the PM700 holds out to him. Really fucking weird morning. Fuck, can she tell that he and Nines—they didn't sleep together. They just slept. Adjacent?

God, fuck his entire life.

He gets the booties on and stands up. "Media caught wind yet?"

"Detective," Nines says.

"No sir," the PM700 replies. "Not—"

"Detective. Relevant."

His phone starts buzzing for good measure, so clearly Gavin's not going to get any further in this conversation until he answers his partner.

"Better be important, Nines."

"The murder victim has a heartbeat."

Gavin instinctively looks at the dead woman on the floor. She doesn't appear to be breathing and there's enough blood pooling around her from the three gunshots that there's no way—

"Jesus FUCKING—"

Gavin tries his best not to step or slip in the blood while still getting to her as fast as he can. He checks for a pulse against her neck first, before trying to roll her over or touch any of the wounds. Nines kneels down next to him and adjusts his fingers like a single fucking millimeter to the—

Holy shit, a heartbeat.

"Duct tape, credit card, scarf," he barks.

This close up, he can eyeball three gunshot wounds—chest, right shoulder, and right arm. The first two had blended together from across the room, and there could be more damage beneath the blood and torn clothing.

"Search the storage closet and kitchen drawers for duct tape," Nines orders the PM700. "Look first, touch only if duct tape is located."

"Exit wounds?" Gavin asks.

"Shoulder and arm." Nines answers.

Gavin rips off his jacket and throws it to the side. The slick leather will just be a pain in the ass right now with all the blood. He takes off his sweater next, balls it up, and places it on the floor. Nines helps him gently roll the vic onto her back, with the sweater underneath the exit wound in her shoulder.

"Chest wound, partially collapsed lung, right side. No exit wound," Nines rattles off, voice just as cool as fifteen minutes ago in his bedroom. "Shoulder wound, nicked or severed subclavian artery, clean exit. Arm wound, broken radius, possibly fractured ulna, no major arteries damaged. Clean exit."

Gavin pulls off his undershirt too and stuffs it over shoulder wound entrance, then shifts to lean forward on top of the vic, knee pressing down against the wound. There's no way to tourniquet off her shoulder, and if she loses any more blood than this, she's dead anyway, so he isn't shy about putting his weight on the wound as a last ditch attempt to squeeze the artery shut.

"Credit card," he says through gritted teeth.

Nines grabs his jacket from the floor and retrieves his wallet. Gavin has his hands full bracing himself over the victim with one arm and squeezing just above her elbow until they can get something long and soft enough not to cut into the skin. A tourniquet could stop the blood loss from the gun shot in her arm at least.

"Hey, Pam, you—"

Gavin only gives the new officer walking in a quick enough glance to note he's got on a scarf. "Take off your scarf. PAM! Where's that fucking duct tape?"

Nines finishes adjusting the credit card just right over the chest wound to prevent air from sucking inside and collapsing her lung entirely. He stands up and walks away. Gavin keeps his eyes on the victim's face. Is she breathing? Shit, maybe he should have had the PM perform CPR. Now that he's leaning on the shoulder wound, there's no way for him to get down there without turning this into a game of fucking twister.

There's yelling and some flailing movement out of his peripheral vision, and then Nines returns with the officer's scarf.

"Why doesn't the fucking android give up his belt?" Officer Fucking Whoever complains.

"A belt is far too thin to act as an effective tourniquet," Nines says as he nudges Gavin's hand off her arm to wrap the scarf around it.

Improvised tourniquets almost always fail, but if Gavin were bleeding out from a gunshot wound on his living room floor, Nines is the only one he'd trust other than an actual paramedic to do it right.

"I have the duct tape," PM700 announces.

"Can I risk letting go long enough to tape the wounds shut?" Gavin asks Nines.

His LED spins yellow for a second, the first time since they came in. "No. She has already lost an estimated half-gallon of blood. Removing pressure on the subclavian artery now could cause a fresh spurt of blood to rip it further and resume the bleeding."

"Fuck, OK OK OK. Chest wound?"

"Sucking air averted. Her lung has not collapsed any further. No exit wound."

"Arm?"

"I have applied a tourniquet, although the blood loss was already minimal due to her arm extending above her head and the—"

"FUCK," Gavin suddenly shouts. "Tell me one of you called an ambulance!"

Officer McFuck Face doesn't have anything smart to say now, and Gavin glances up to see the PM's face fall even further. Shit fucking—

"I requested an ambulance from Henry Ford Medical Center when I alerted you to the victim's heartbeat," Nines says. "I have been transmitting updates on her condition to the responding paramedics, and they will arrive in an estimated three minutes."

Gavin exhales and thinks fucking androids in the most generous tone he's ever thought before.

"Pam, Officer Whoever—and where the fuck is your partner?" Gavin demands.

"Securing the outside of the building, sir!" PM700 reports. "I have notified him of the ambulance's arrival and he will escort the paramedics to this location."

Gavin looks at Officer Dipshit next, who fully lives up to his name.

"Uh … well, we thought she was already dead and—"

"WHERE?"

"Getting coffee, sir!"

Gavin inhales very slowly through his nose. He's going to be smelling blood for the rest of the day after this.

"Go get your fucking partner and ask the PC how to be useful," Gavin orders. "No one in or out of this building unless they're a resident and then only with a police escort."

"Yes, sir!"

"Pam, you're out in the hall. No one gets through who isn't police or paramedic."

"Yes, sir!"

As soon as she marches out the door, Nines' hands are on him, holding him steady on top of the vic. It's not a hard position to balance in, but all his muscles are wound so tight he might snap.

"I believe the next time we play video games, I will play as a healer rather than a sniper," Nines says.

Gavin looks over and stares at him. "What?"

"Detective Chen has expressed that she's grown tired of—"

"What are you talking about?"

Nines' LED flickers red for a moment. "I am engaging you in conversation about one of your interests to lower your stress levels."

Holy fucking jesus christ. Probably the most competent person in the room—not that Gavin would ever admit that out loud—and yet he thinks chit chat over a dying murder victim is OK.

"Really need you to focus on the gunshot victim right now," he grits out.

Nines spins yellow for a moment, then declares, "I will create a virtual reconstruction of the crime scene before the paramedics trample evidence."

Not at all what he meant, but all right then.

"You do that."

Estimated three minutes, his ass. Gavin spends at least a good three hours kneeling on top of a soon-to-be-murder victim, trying not to look at her face too much. He has enough nightmares already without adding her face and name to the list.

The worst part is that she apparently can't afford to pay her utility bills either, so it's freezing fucking cold in here, and he definitely doesn't want the paramedics to walk in on him with perky nipples.

The second worst part is Nines apparently noticing his attempts not to shiver and draping his dumb Cyberlife jacket over him.

"Do your preconstruction," Gavin mutters.

"I have finished constructing the room."

With that, Nines starts crouching down at different angles around the murder victim. Gavin knows it's basically the same thing as a crime scene photographer, but he still has to shut his eyes against all the old paranoia thoughts about emotionless robots examining humans like bugs.

"Hey." He has to stop and clear his throat to get the rest of the words out. "Does my blood type match?"

"The paramedics will be here in—"

Gavin forces himself to make eye contact. "Am I a match or not?"

Nines' LED hits red again. His fingers twitch, but not in any human way. The movement is too fast and mechanical, like a metal clamp about to malfunction. Gavin tries to shove his paranoia aside. Weird as it is to think about, this is actually the most reaction he's seen his partner give to something, even if that looks like two red spins and a weird glitch instead of something normal, like sweating or babbling.

Actually. Technically Nines is a rookie officer too, and this is his first fresh murder scene. So fresh they're waiting on fucking paramedics. Last time Gavin went through a scene like this with a rookie, they'd thrown up all over the murder weapon and cried in the patrol car for an hour.

"Yes," Nines answers. "You both have B positive blood types."

"All right, if anyone asks, I'm straight."

"Those laws have—"

"They still ask. Shit happens, OK?" Gavin tries to take a deep, calming breath but oh right! He's kneeling in a pool of blood and person, so that's all it smells like. "And where are the fucking—"

"Paramedics arriving now."

"Detective Reed!" PM700 calls a half second later. "Paramedics coming up!"

The rest is a bunch of hurried questions, one-two-three-LIFT, following the stretcher out the door. They're on the ground floor before he realizes he didn't give any instructions to PM, but shit, maybe Nines already took care of it. Where is—right behind him. Of course.

"No, no, no, we can't allow him in here," the paramedic says when Nines tries to follow him inside the back of the ambulance.

"He's my partner," Gavin snaps.

"This isn't—look, he won't physically fit," the paramedic argues. "Not with you, me, her, and Mr. Six Feet over there. And she needs a blood transfusion right now, so let's argue if this is discrimination later, OK?"

Gavin looks back at Nines.

"I will finish our investigation of the crime scene," he says, LED back to fake-blue.

The paramedic closes the back doors before he can reply. Gavin remembers way too late that his cellphone is in his jacket, laying on the floor somewhere.

Shit.

***

***

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

I also have a Patreon for this fic, if you want to support me! $1 gets you access to chapters a week early, $2 gets bonus content and deleted scenes, and $3 gets short chapters from two AUs I’m writing: an A/B/O heatfic and reverse!AU

this week’s bonus content has a special TWO chapters for Nines’ backstory! featuring: Storage Room 6459, the [deviant] RK800 #313 248 317 - 52, and Lieutenant Henry “Hank” Anderson

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 9 - (totally uninterested.)

I woke up the next morning and it took me a second to place where I was. I was in my own room, in my own bed, in my costume from the night before. I rubbed my eyes a bit, pulling my fingers away to realize--of course--I’d forgotten to take off my makeup. An accurate glimpse into how much my life sucked.

“Fuck,” I said quietly, my voice barely squeaking out of my dry throat. I knew what happened. I knew because I remembered finding Kristen in the living room and taking another two shots out of anger in the kitchen before she finally dragged me across campus and into bed.

I remember crying in the middle of the quad and telling her that my entire life was over because Harry was mad at me and I remember her saying just admit it Nora, you’re in love with him. Then I remember admitting it.

My eyes seemed to open much wider at that, taking in the view of the popcorn ceiling of our dorm before I turned my head to my side to catch a glimpse of my sleeping roommate. She was likely less hungover and less of a hot mess--but I hoped that she’d be in the mood for diner food nonetheless.

“Kristen,” I groaned her name, not feeling sorry about waking her up--the clock on my desk read 9:42am. “Get up, my life is over.”

She let out a noise, shifting slightly in bed before lifting her head off of the pillow to look at the clock. When she saw that it was a reasonable enough time for me to demand her attention, she sighed. “How emotional are you?”

It was like she needed a fair warning before she could even step foot out of bed.

“I don’t know,” I said simply, letting my thoughts circle around the metaphorical drain.

What did all of this mean? I kissed Ethan and Harry yelled at me and told me I was annoying. And then he walked in on me and Ethan basically dry humping on the bed and the only thing that made any of this okay is that he was clearly jealous.

I think.

Kristen sat up, her sudden movement caused me to look over at her, letting her sad eyes scan my face in an attempt to gauge my mood.

“I’m fine,” I told her.

She stared back at me blankly, her lack of words meant that she didn’t buy it. But she didn’t press me--she simply hopped down from her lofted bed and headed for the bathroom, offering me a sympathetic smile as she looked me up and down, still in my obnoxious costume.

**

Nothing sounded better than a big plate of waffles, and nothing hurt me more than the fact that I only made it halfway through before feeling like I was going to puke. Kristen--who’d managed to drink responsibly--happily chowed down on the eggs and toast she got, forking a home fry onto my plate in an attempt to get me to eat more.

“It might actually come back up if I swallow that,” I warned.

She scrunched her nose in disgust and took it back, popping it into her own mouth and chewing.

She was quiet momentarily--and I was appreciative that she’d given me as much silence as she had. I figured we’d sit down and she’d immediately want me to get into all the nitty gritty details with her. I didn’t remember how much I told her on the way home, but she was sure to want my sober impressions now that I’d slept it off.

Instead of making her ask, I launched in on my own accord--figuring that was the best way to get it over with. “I don’t know if I’m upset or angry.”

She looked up at me, nodding thoughtfully before she spoke. “You can be both.”

“I know, but--he was a fucking asshole for saying all of that. I told him that in confidence, Kristen. And then he goes and fucking repeats it in front of everyone we know?”

She nodded, but I still had more spilling out of me.

“And then he decided to just barge in on me--not even knowing if I’m upset or okay or whatever,” I shook my head, blowing a puff of air through my nose as I let my shoulders slump.

“I think that’s what he was trying to figure out though--if you were okay. I think he realized he messed up.” Kristen looked hopeful at this, almost as if I’d hear her out and change my mind.

“So? He fucking came in too late cause Ethan beat him too it. And then he’s mad that I kissed Ethan? He literally had two months to figure out that he was fucking up. We had two months to make out if we wanted. He can’t be mad because someone else woke up and smelled the coffee, you know?”

“Nora,” Kristen leaned forward and looked at me as if I was crazy. “You’re the one who’s been keeping Harry at an arm’s length. He literally got you take out and wine and you had a picnic on the roof yesterday.”

“And?”

Her eyes went even wider--as if she was now totally convinced that I’d lost it. “You don’t do that for someone you don’t have feelings for!”

“It was just chinese food and pinot noir, Kristen, don’t be so ridiculous.”

She was quiet for a second, both of us seemingly waiting the other out to see if we’d continue to bicker. Kristen maybe had a point. Harry had been strange and weird and started to say things that made the butterflies in my stomach take flight which meant--obviously--that I had to change the subject.

Good wine, I’d said.

But it wasn’t my fault. This wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to have any feelings for him and he certainly didn’t want for this to be messy. We both fucked up and now it was too hard to determine if any of it was real.

If we took away the agreement--if we took away the rules and the plan and Ethan in general--we’d be left with our shifts at the library and a few stupid inside jokes. I had no clue whether or not that was enough to constitute a relationship.

But it didn’t matter, because now, Harry probably had the image of me on top of Ethan burned into his mind and I needed to put my time and energy into that. Into Ethan.

“Has he texted you?”

“Who? Ethan?”

“No,” she rolled her eyes, letting out a grunt as if I were being the most difficult person on the planet. “Harry.”

“No he hasn’t texted me. He fucking hates me now, so, don’t count on him reaching out any time soon.”

She sighed, the look on her face told me she didn’t have the energy to continue the conversation. We asked for to go boxes and walked the long way home, thankful for the fact that it was a sunny day.

Instead of talking about Harry, we talked about work and classes and our plans for the spring semester. But the fact that his name wasn’t coming out of my mouth didn’t change the fact that his name seemed to be burned into my head--the only thing that shook me out of it was a text from Ethan.

**

How are you feeling?

Based on all of the events of last night, I’m a solid 6 and that feels like a decent place to be 🤷

😊

I hope you’re not mad at me for last night.

I’m sorry if I fucked anything up.

Ethan.

I kissed you.

And it was already fucked up before that happened.

True. I just feel bad. Let me know if you need to talk.

**

I didn’t know what I thought--I didn’t know if I thought Harry would call me or text me or send me a stupid picture of a cat in a wagon--but I definitely didn’t think he’d do this.

I stared at the side of Casey Northby’s head. Sure, she was a nice girl and she was definitely quieter than Harry--but she was no match for the head of curly long hair that I’d grown accustomed to as my shiftmate.

Changing his work schedule was low--and I had every intention of telling him that as soon as I could round up the courage to text him and tell him how much of an asshat he was.

“Could you maybe not do that?” Casey peered at me out of the corner of her eye, shifting uncomfortably in her chair as I realized that my gaze had been set on her this entire time.

I scrambled to find a way to busy myself, embarrassed that she’d caught me staring and embarrassed that (as pathetic as it sounded) I felt terribly lonely without the snide remarks from the person who usually occupied the chair beside me.

“Sorry--shit, yeah, I spaced out.”

Casey Northby knew it was a lie. Which is why I pressed farther.

“Did he ask you to switch shifts with him?”

She seemed to pause for a second, carefully planning her words before she turned to look over at me and offer sad eyes. “Nora--I know you two broke up--everyone knows.”

I rolled my eyes at her words--she didn’t know that what had really happened was that Harry seemed to freak out and go against the plan while he simultaneously carried out the plan even though it wasn’t really the plan we agreed on. But all of that seemed too complicated to tell her.

I settled on a watered down version of the truth. “Yeah--I know. It’s just that--I guess we both knew it was coming, so I didn’t think he’d go and change his entire work schedule.”

Casey offered another sympathetic smile and waited for me to continue. I didn’t have anything else to say, though, I simply wanted the information she had.

“So did he contact you himself, or?”

“He just asked me to cover tonight.”

“So he’s coming back?”

“No,” she said slowly, shrugging her shoulders as if to insinuate that she wasn’t really sure what his plan was. “I mean, he said he got other people to cover the rest of the week while he finds a permanent replacement.”

“What? Are you kidding me? What a fucking prick.” Casey seemed taken back by my outburst as her eyes widened. “So I’m going to be stuck with a new stranger every night--”

“We had a science class together freshman year--”

“While he does god knows what, Casey?”

Her eyes trailed behind someone who let a gust of cold air in from the main door. November hadn’t been gentle, and neither had the universe, lately. She brought her eyes back to me, looking my face over in a way that told me she pitied my existence.

If it weren’t bad enough to have Casey Northby sitting beside me, the growing knot in my stomach didn’t help. I had no clue what to make of the 48 hours, so I decided to run through it on a piece of scrap paper on the desk.

Halloween

6pm: Harry makes me come over early. Take out and wine on the roof? What does that mean?

8pm: drinking begins, Harry seems more flirty than usual

9pm: people start arriving, Ethan wanders in and gives me a hug (it felt like it lasted a bit too long but maybe i’m making it up?)

10pm: shots

11pm: Harry’s hands are incredibly close to my butt and drunk me can’t tell if she likes it or not. Airing on the side of caution, I tell Harry that we need to just break the fuck up.

11:02pm: Harry’s monologue begins and chaos ensues.

11:05pm: Ethan’s hands are on my ass and Harry sees it all.

One word stuck out to me as I read it over and left Casey to help a group of freshman reserve a study room.

Caution.

Everything about me and my interactions with Harry over the last few weeks felt hesitant--as if I was avoiding something and terrified of what could happen if I weren’t exactly that: cautious. If I didn’t take a step back from Harry--if I hadn’t physically stepped back from him and told him that we needed to break up, who knows what would have happened?

He could have kissed me or I could have kissed him and nearly ruined (yet again) what had shaped up to be one of the most important relationships in my life. But either way, that’s where we stood.

I wanted to break up with Harry that night to preserve whatever was left. We’d gotten too close and things became too real and too messy and it felt like the only way to keep him safe and keep our relationship safe was to stop whatever we were doing before we burnt out.

And in the middle of the emotion and the uncertainty that the last two months had brought, Ethan Davis felt like a constant when it came to avoiding whatever type of catastrophe was waiting for Harry and I. Instead of focusing on the fact that my feelings for Harry were much more complicated than I ever imagined, I focused on the fact that my feelings for Ethan were simple: I wanted him to want me.

I brought my eyes up to Casey Northby and wondered if she could handle the rest of the shift by herself--mainly because the lump in my throat told me that I was about to lose my shit in the library and I didn’t need two public breakdowns in one week.

Of course I’d been cautious. Of course I’d pulled back and tried to put distance between the one person who I felt closest too, because somewhere along the line, he stopped being a coworker and a classmate and he became someone I loved.

**

Hi

I think we should talk.

Nothing?

**

Ben Mallonder doesn’t know a thing about the Dewey Decimal System.

We still need to talk.

**

Harry, it’s been a week. Please just text me back.

**

Seriously?

**

I was drunk in a kitchen on the opposite side of DC when Ethan Davis walked in and seemed to make a beeline for me. Kristen--who glanced over her shoulder and seemed to let me know just how much she disapproved with a single second of eye contact--disappeared towards the living room of Casey Northby’s older brother.

Kristen hadn’t wanted to come. She was mad that I’d kissed Ethan and she was demanding that I just admit my feelings for Harry and show up at his door in some kind of end-all, be-all rom com scene. But life didn’t work that way.

He wouldn’t answer my texts, so he certainly wouldn’t answer the door if he looked through the peep-hole to see me waiting with bated breath.

And Casey Northby wasn’t thrilled that I’d texted her for the party address only two short hours ago--but now that I was here, she seemed to settle into my presence much more gracefully than she did at the library. Maybe it was the alcohol.

Ethan had only just arrived, and while I figured that he might show up (it was another apartment full of boys on the basketball team), I wasn’t prepared for him to be alone.

In all of my time hanging out with the group of them, I’d never really paused to wonder what on earth Ethan did when he wasn’t trailing behind my friends. Ryan, Niall, Alex, and Harry all lived together--but I’d never once thought about Ethan’s roommate (did he have one?) or the possibility that he existed in a world where he had a life outside of Harry’s apartment and the dining hall.

“Hey,” he said, his voice loud to compensate for the noise of the music. “How ya doin’? I didn’t know I’d see you here.”

I shrugged my shoulders, taking a sip of the mixed drink in my cup before finding the words. After pre-gaming with Kristen and downing a few drinks upon arrival, I was feeling more relaxed than I’d been all week, but my words still came out clear. “I mean, I’ve been better. But I’m here.”

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes scanning my face as if what I’d said didn’t accurately tell the truth of how I felt. “Have you talked to Harry at all?”

I cringed at the sound of his name--Kristen had done her best to not even mention him, other than a check-in here and there of whether or not I had heard from him. Eventually, after three days, I told her that she didn’t need to ask because (rest assured) I’d tell her if I did.

“Nope,” I said. “I don’t think he is interested in hearing from me anyway.”

Ethan nodded, adjusting the backwards hat on his head before sipping at the beer bottle he held in his hand. Kristen had disappeared with Georgia Lederman--she’d been mad enough about the fact that I made her trudge across the city with me just to get my mind off of Harry--but when she showed up and realized that she didn’t know a whole lot of people, she was even more annoyed. You’d think she’d cut me a break in my time of turmoil.

But luckily, Georgia showed up a half hour ago, and thankfully, this meant that Kristen lightened up enough to give me some time to get more intoxicated before thanking Casey Northby for letting us come.

“I’m sorry again, about what happened--I know Harry’s pissed. He hasn’t talked to me either. Ryan said I’m not allowed over their apartment anymore.”

I let out a short laugh, surprised at his words and the consequences that were being thrust upon him. “Are you kidding?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t even want to know what he thinks I deserve then.”

My laughter seemed to make Ethan relax--like up until now he’d been worried that I was harboring resentment. “Well, I don’t regret what happened, even if it was bad timing.”

I couldn’t help but smile up at him--I was smart enough to decode his words, and my heart seemed to pick up pace when he looked around the room to take inventory of who was there.

“Would you want to go over to Jack Langley’s? I heard he’s having some people over tonight--and I know for sure your ex-boyfriend won’t be one of them.”

I let out a laugh--Harry definitely knew Casey Northby’s older brother. I had no clue if he’d show up here tonight, but a part of me was hoping he would--if only to give me a chance to say my piece and see if he’d been as sleepless as I’d been all week.

I thought on it for a second, hoping pathetically that my heart would suddenly snap out of it and I wouldn’t feel as confused as I’d been for the last few days. I was angry with Harry for the things he’d said and the scene he’d made, yet I felt guilty about the fact that my kissing his friend caused so much disappointment to cloud his face.

I looked up at Ethan Davis--the boy who I first met at a party similar to this, who’s blonde hair poked out from the bottom of the permanent hat on his head. He’d long been a mystery, and I hoped that the feeling in my stomach that felt a lot like doubt would fade when I reached my hand forward to take his. “Yeah, let’s go.”

**

I was another two drinks deep when Ethan seemed to disappear into a bedroom with another group of guys that I barely recognized. I was never any good at matching names with faces, but pair that with a hefty amount of alcohol and I was sure to deliver a few misnomers.

It was fine at first--the music was still playing, plenty of people were in the apartment--I was happy to just watch a group of seniors play pong as I leaned against the wall and sipped at my drink.

There were good things and bad things about the current situation. Good: the alcohol was flowing. I was a good level of drunk but still felt pretty stable on my feet. The people were friendly and nothing weird seemed to be going on in the apartment that Ethan had brought me to.

Bad: I had no idea where we were. I had no idea who anyone in the apartment was (save for Ethan), and I had no idea how to get back to my dorm when I eventually decided I wanted to leave.

The realization that I was stranded near a beige couch in a living room with a Tupac poster on the wall seemed to send me over the edge. Suddenly, I was banging on the bedroom door as my pulse climbed to what felt like meteoric heights. It swung open quickly, revealing a cloud of smoke that seemed to waft out and give me a potent welcome.

“Ethan?” I stuck my head in slightly, not wanting to intrude, but wanting to find my plus one before the second hand smoke settled in my lungs. “We should probably head out.”

He looked up at the sound of his name, the bowl in his hand as he seemed to raise his eyebrows at me. I couldn’t read the look on his face, but when he exhaled and let out a laugh, he stood to walk towards me. “You really wanna leave?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “I mean, it’s late, I don’t know any of these people.”

“We just got here, though.”

“We’ve been here for an hour,” I corrected, beginning to lose patience as I reached for my phone in my back pocket to verify my claim.

“I just started smoking with them, I can’t leave right now.” His tone was more serious, but he turned over his shoulder to look back at the group of guys he referenced. They weren’t paying us any attention as they passed the bowl around again--ignoring our huddle in the corner of the bedroom.

“Well I need to go and I have no clue where I am.”

“Relax, will you? We can leave in a little bit.”

“Fine,” I said, backing off. I looked up again, aware of the fact that the voices around us had grown quiet. “I’ll find you later, I guess.”

He watched me walk out of the bedroom, finding my way back to the spot where I’d been in the living room as I pulled out my phone. I tapped Kristen’s name to call her--hoping she’d know the way back to campus from whatever neighborhood I was in. Hopefully, she’d know it so well she could help me memorize it, seeing as my phone was nearly dead.

Google maps was helpful, but Kristen knew the DC public transit system like the back of her hand. It’s all the commuting to internships, she’d said.

As soon as the phone started ringing, laughter erupted from the living room, leaving me pressing the phone to my cheek in an attempt to hear better as I made a beeline for the front door. The hallway outside whoever’s apartment this was would be much quieter, seeing as both bedrooms were occupied and two sophomore girls had taken up residency in the bathroom.

I pulled at the knob to make sure it was unlocked, stepping out in the cooler air as it went to voicemail. With the door shut behind me, I felt like I could finally catch my breath.

“Come on, Kristen,” I said to myself, tapping her name again. One ring, two rings, all the way to eight until her voice came over the phone again to let me know she’d get back to me as soon as possible.

I clicked my phone shut, hoping to head back inside to connect to wifi, call an uber, and make my way back to Wilson Hall for a much needed night of sleep--almost in an act of defiance against Ethan Davis and his inability to prioritize. But, because nothing seemed to be going as planned, the door was locked.

I grabbed at it and twisted again, convinced that this was all a dream--that I’d wake up and realize it was Halloween morning and everything within the last week was literally just the stuff of nightmares.

“Hello?” I banged on it twice, hoping they’d hear me over the music that was muffled behind the wood. “It’s Nora, let me in!”

I looked down the hallway, suddenly aware that this was not the only apartment on this floor and that banging was sure to get me in some sort of trouble--which was good logic and impulse control for a girl who’d had quite a few (I’d lost track) mixed drinks. I opened my phone and tapped Ethan’s name.

Straight to voicemail.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

I pulled up our message thread and typed.

I’m locked out, let me in.

I watched as the gray letters appeared under the words I’d sent: delivered. I waited ten seconds before I turned around and let my fists do more damage.

“Can someone open the fucking door?!” I shouted this time, hoping my voice would carry inside and into the ears of someone drunk enough to let a stranger back into the apartment that she didn’t even want to be in.

But when the music didn’t stop and the laughter only got louder, I sighed.

I didn’t want to cry, but I knew I was close. I didn’t want to be that girl--too drunk in public and crying about the shit that had gone wrong.

I scrolled through my phone once more--knowing full well that I could call an uber at 8% battery and hope for the best as I attempted to make it home in one piece. But I also knew there was someone else I could text. Drunk Nora didn’t know any better, right?

I’m at some apartment building near Deanwood and I’m locked out and I don’t know anyone here and I’m drunk.

I watched as the blue bar moved across the top of the screen. After thirteen seconds, there was a reply.

Why are you in Deanwood?

You’ll be mad at me if I say

Nora.

Just tell me.

Ethan brought me to a party.

So make him bring you home.

He ditched me. I’m locked out and he didn’t answer the phone

Three dots, then nothing. I leaned against the wall and wondered what Kristen was doing that made her completely unavailable.

My phone started buzzing in my hand, I looked down to see a picture of Harry lying in a hospital bed as the background of the phone with his name on the top of the screen.

“Hi! You called me! Are you not mad?”

“Nora, where are you?”

“Near Deanwood, I told you.”

“Send me your location.”

“Why?” I asked, confused by his (perceived) change of topic.

“Because apparently you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. Where’s Kristen?”

“I dunno--she didn’t answer either.”

“Nora, just stay where you are and I’ll be there in a little bit, okay?”

“I can come find you.”

“You don’t know where you are.” He sounded impatient and bothered--like I’d somehow ruined his life in just the twenty seconds we’d been on the phone.

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence on the other end of the line. I cleared my throat, feeling suddenly courageous and less inhibited. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you.”

AN: Y’ALLLLLL. I don’t even have words. I love how mad y’all are at Nora for being such a dumb B but honestly, what can I say, I love it. As always, thoughts? theories? y’all keep me young and alive and PLEASE, if you like my work, reblog and share with all your internet pals!

taglist: @zeeliz @love-qwertyuiop-things @stylesfics-xx @bathrobesinparadise @flooome @biteharrysthigh @you-sure-are-magneato @wanderlustiing @mylovehes @astro-sweetheart @theysaidididsomethinbad @cathycoulter @bookofstyles @nearbyou @thehalmighty @extrawdinary @lemonade10 @sylesobrien @harryslittlebeast

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapters 216 & 217: bear bum humor falls short, the cat came back and more bears!

I am posting another combined chapter meta as work is still quite busy for me - this is just a really bad time of the year for me with so many meetings on top of normal things. 

Chapter 216 starts with the group in a stand off with a white bear.  Throughout the chapter the language describing the bear will shift between a white bear or polar bear, done on purpose by the EHS scans team as to indicate the group isn’t sure about what the bear is.  It likely is not a polar bear and I’m a bit disappointed, but that’s okay.

Shiraishi has already removed his soaking wet clothing and wrapped himself in one of the white cloths/sheets they stole from the ship.  He’s traveled with this group long enough to know what to do.   However, his naked bum is a sign of things to come in the chapter.  . . .

@goldenkamuyhunting​ has already written an excellent summary of this chapter here: https://goldenkamuyhunting.tumblr.com/post/188470521878/ramblings-and-crazy-theory-time-about-gk-chap-216

I agree with many aspects of the summary - the summary reveals a lot of the the mental states of the group as well as how they try to determine their actions towards the bear.

I won’t dwell on 216 a lot.  Asirpa quickly tries to determine if the white bear is one that failed to hibernate . . . Sugimoto of course takes charge and says that he’ll take care of the bear while Asirpa grumbles in the background that she’s out of arrows.  Since she used all of her arrows during their escape (why did she do this?  It seems to be a very poor decision be without any arrows?) she can’t take care of the bear.  I think Asirpa’s lack of arrows demonstrate that Asirpa made an impulsive decision when she escaped and it goes against her normal rational approach to things.

What that she then shifts to what she thinks about the value of the white bear’s fur.  And all of a sudden she shifts to figuring out how to get that expensive fur.  She looks unusual as she says this, her eyes are similar to when she pulled the arrow on Shiraishi and she’s got tons of stress lines under her eyes as she sweats.

The shocked look on Sugimoto’s face indicates to us as a reader that the way she said this and Sugimoto is so shocked that his eyes are white as well!  I really wish we could hear her say this line. . . .

Shiraishi then asks very excitedly how much money is is worth?  Sugimoto tries to calm him down so that he has even a chance of shooting the bear with his poor rifle skills.  Asirpa estimates that the bear pelt would be worth at least 12x more than 4 yen (= 60 kg of rice!).  So, yes, this would ease their obvious cash flow problem upon escaping from Tsurumi who had been bankrolling them via Koito.

Vasily prepares to shoot the bear, but the group has to stop him - of course Sugimoto tries to tell him to shot the bear by speaking to him only in Japanese with a lot of sound effects, sadly and not surprisingly Vasily doesn’t get a damn thing that Sugimoto is saying and he has to physically bully him to stop.

All of this shows that Vasily isn’t going to be a key member of their group - yes, he helped them escape b/c he knows Shiraishi and Asirpa are a key to finding Ogata.  Now that they have separated from Tsukishima and Tsurumi, the only other known Russian speaker is Ogata and that really puts them at a disadvantage when Ogata will re-appear.

This entire situation then becomes this awkward comedy of almost errors on ice as Asirpa and Sugimoto argue with each other how to kill the bear. . . . Shiraishi remains as the voice of reason.  Sugimoto stopped Vasily a known sniper can’t shoot the bear, and then Asirpa negates all of the ideas that Sugimoto thought.  I really think this is just a lot of rambling that takes up too many pages.

Shiraishi is more concerned about them getting out of this dangerous situation as poor Vasily is stuck in the background just watching the argument of Asirpa and Sugimoto.  This then ends in the idea that Sugimoto should just randomly shoot at it (something that Vasily could have already done . . . . likely much better than Sugimoto).

By sheer luck Sugimoto gets tossed over the bear on the unstable ice and gets set up for a very interesting view as Shiraishi, ignores Asirpa and Sugimoto and he tells Vasily to shoot the bear.

This inspires Sugimoto to recall the previous two times that bear bums had been violated, both with Boss, stabbing a bear in the ass as well as Anehata sexually violating a bear (that lead to his death, not the bears).

With this particular aim, Sugimoto luckily hits the heart directly killing the bear and it slumps down on to the ice as Sugimoto now aggravates all of his gunshot wounds.  The bear then drifts away on a piece of ice and all of their waffling has resulted in losing the bear because they were so concerned about how to kill it without damaging it.  Shiraishi looks disappointed as he provides the commentary as the bear is lost.  Vasily luckily notices some Ainu and they meet up with them to get a boat ride to the land. 

The Ainu man then explains that there was a white brown bear club that was going to be sent off by the kotan but that the Japanese government heard about it and then took it from them.  This is a very loaded yet small exchange.

This shows how the government is slowly preventing the members of the kotan from their own cultural practices - the kotan thought that this white bear was a great gift from the kamuy - which the government then steals from them and thus invalidating their own essence.  Thankfully, Asirpa lets go of the bear and realizes they need time to rest and recover - Sugimoto is wounded and Shiraishi almost got hypothermia [again]. . . . it finally ends with Asirpa relieved and excited to be back to Hokkaido!  

She’s happy to be home and she’s back home knowing much more than she knew when she left.

I think that this shows that Asirpa is truly happy to be back and she’s in this moment able to just enjoy the moment - something that neither Shiraishi nor Sugimoto can do in their current states.

The chapter then ends, finally giving us an update on the status of Koito.  He’s alive!  But Koito looks pretty rough as he tells his father that he’s pathetic . . . his father glances around before he looks at him softly and tells him that he’s glad that he’s alive.  It then ends with Tsukishima blankly standing nearby.

Koito looks terrible, he’s feeling sad and pathetic, he’s got lines under his eyes and his down turned mouth indicates that he really is feeling like he has failed.  His father doesn’t want to look too concerned or fatherly - hence he glances around nervously before he lets Koito see his concern. 

Tsukishima is looking blankly out towards the ocean on the ship - is he concerned about what he will say to Tsurumi?  Is he glad to see that Koito’s father has talked to him?  Is he tired of everything?  Has Tsukishima proven that he’s more loyal to Koito than to Tsurumi? Fast chapter 216 summary.

The dynamics of the Sugimoto-Asirpa team are still awkward and Vasily really doesn’t belong with them. . .

I think they got greedy and were hit with karma - on the ice they should have just had Vasily kill the bear and then they could have moved on - but their delay showed how they are still not united as a re-united team.  Shiraishi gets ignored yet tries to make an executive call with Vasily while Asirpa and Sugimoto argue about how to kill the bear. 

Overall, it served them right losing the bear - Sugimoto was already wounded and Shiraishi was also at risk.  They stopped worrying about their own safety and they almost got in a worse situation. 

I know that Asirpa was trying to think strategically by getting the bear but they were already in rough shape. It is showing that Asirpa trying to take a leadership role isn’t ready just yet - I will always argue that she’s a natural leader and she will become a great leader - when she’s an adult.  Right now though, she needs an adult leader to mentor her.  When Shiraishi is the voice of reason it means that their group is in trouble. .  . Chapter 217 - MOAR BEARS!!! But before more bears - let’s talk about the cat.  The cat that came back.  Before the title page we get a real time event of Ogata doing some information gathering.  Due to his positive Grandma vibes, he’s easily able to talk with the inn keeper who was hosting Asirpa and Co with Koito and Tsukishima.

He’s able to easily determine that Asirpa was able to escape from the 27th and Tsurumi AND that she likely made it to Hokkaido.  Ogata is almost beaming as he smiles (since Ogata really isn’t a character who would beam with happiness).  This shows that when he needs to be, he can pretty easily get information and not arouse others.  This is similar to when he was solo in Barato, he went to the barber shop and got the intel on Hijikata that he needed as well as into on the gang situation. So with that information, Ogata sets off to return to Hokkaido.  With a sob story of course!  With his visible injuries and a new uniform he tries to beg his way onto the ferry.  He offers some dried cod to barter for his fare.  Even though we all know Ogata is a TERRIBLE liar (aka back with his meltdown on ice) when it comes to story telling he succeeds.  The officer for the ferry believes him that his elderly parents are in Hokkaido and he needs to go back and see them.

Now a general rule of thumb concept in pop culture (or maybe just in general) is that a more successful lie contains some truth.  Perhaps, he succeeds b/c their is some truth - maybe his grandparents are still alive? 

Thanks to Sei Kobiyama, those of us who are not native Japanese speakers also got some insight into Ogata’s offering of cod.  That in slang, “dried cod” = “terrible actor” so even Noda is admitting that Ogata really shouldn’t dream of a future acting career after the gold hunt.

Whatever it was that gave Ogata the magic touch to get onto the ferry, he manages it and the chapter title page finally appears with him basking in his cat greatness. Any cat owner would immediately recognize this pose - it is the “I am a cat and watch me as I survey my domain from a perch.”

As a cat owner, I get to witness this on a daily basis and it is perfect as he has that subtle smile as he re-enters the quest for the gold. Really, this has proven that the cat has come back and it means he’s going to shake things up.  Now that he’s behind everyone else, I predict he’ll do some intel to gather information before he gets involved - Ogata is never rash or hasty.  Oh, I’m so excited! [understatement] I really hope he and Vasily chat before Vasily pounces er jumps on him for more sniper cat playtime. But back to more bears!  The chapter then shifts to a young man fleeing from a brown bear active in the winter.  He runs into a tree branch and scrapes his forehead before the bear overtakes him and appears to begin to chew on his shoulder/neck area.

The bear is clearly chewing on him as we see some blood on its mouth as well as on the scarf.  The panel then zooms in on a small wooden carved case with a walking bear on it.  Again, thanks to Sei Kobiyama, this item is identified as an inro or a pill case and the image on it is tied to an owner . . .

The chapter then shows that Asirpa and Sugimoto are with the Ainu man they met off of the drift ice, hunting for bears that are still hibernating in their dens.  The Ainu man looks similar to Asirpa’s uncle Makkanakuru . . . I wonder if he is a relation to her?

Interestingly, Asirpa and the yet to be named Ainu man are both wearing the vine snowshoes yet Sugimoto is not.  Sugimoto was thrilled to wear them before when he was out hunting with Asirpa - why is he no longer using them?  The snow is at least mid-calf deep if not more.  Is Sugimoto less inclined to use Ainu practices after what happened on Karafuto?

In direct contrast to the white bear last chapter, they set up the triangle head trap and they easily kill the bear.  Sugimoto doesn’t even need to raise his rifle, the man does the single shot for them.  This entire chapter seems to be showing how to do a bear hunt properly and how to treat the bear.  They make the newsar kamuy stick to keep the bear company before they can retrieve the body the next day.

As Asirpa explains things, she has returned to her role as our resident Ainu expert.  This is a complete contrast with her behavior last chapter wanting the pelt of the white bear, yet trying to hunt it without respect for it as this bear is treated.  Will they be in trouble for the way that they treated the white bear?  It drifted away on the ice and it did not get a newsar kamuy to accompany it.  Is Asirpa back to normal b/c she has an older nispa present to guide her without her realizing it?

As Sugimoto and Asirpa return to the kotan, he remarks on how the cise visually tells them that they are back in Hokkaido.  He’s smiling as he says this - in contrast Asirpa is not.  She looks serious as she walks along and when she finally speaks, her facial expression is not one of happiness or joy.

Asirpa seems less sure to be back in Hokkaido.  She was thrilled when they were on the boat last chapter, but now she looks quiet and contemplative.  I think she realizes that her hasty escape seemed almost unreal and now that they have settling into routine for some time it has become more real again.  She is likely worried about her extended family and the impact of the 27th could be on them.  It also is bringing her back to the place were she lost her father after finding him as well as her mother, whom she now knows what she looked like from the film.  Returning home less naive and more mature shows on her face in this panel. The next page reveals that they are staying with the same man and what appears to be his mother and wife perhaps.  What is striking is the distance between their group and the Ainu family.  Previously, when Asirpa has other Japanese with her in their group as well as Kiro and Inkarmat they were physically much closer to their Ainu guests.  Think at Kiro’s home, or with Kirawus when they were celebrating as well as before Abashiri with the salmon feast.  Now there is a great distance - Sugimoto isn’t being friendly with the Ainu man, Asirpa is working on making more poison arrows and Shiraishi is leering over at the woman breastfeeding the bear.

Furthermore, Vasily is way back in the corner not even interacting with anyone.  They also are not sitting around the hearth with everyone else - they are off in the corner.  This is completely different behavior for both Asirpa and Sugimoto who was always keen to be friendly with Ainu before.

Their conversation then reveals that they are talking about how they will get the gold with zero skins.  This may indicate why they are chatting as a small group versus so openly.  Asirpa confirms that they will have to steal the skins back from both groups and Sugimoto’s plan is to make sure they grab them from both groups.  He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but he wants the two groups to meet and in the confusion, steal the skins.  A risky idea if I’d say so . . . Sugimoto’s long term plans have a tendency to not actually work out that well.  Shiraishi even highlights that it is a difficult plan.  I know he is the escape king, but I have a new nickname for him - the voice of reason.  When Asirpa and Sugimoto get emotionally wound up by each other, he’s the one to try to point out the obvious issues with their plans.

Shiraishi is then the one to ask the man if there is any way to make some fast cash.  Interestingly, Shiraishi address him as nispa, so I interpret this to mean that he’s saying “mister” in a respectful yet somewhat casual way - really typical Shiraishi.  This is also the first time that I can recall Shiraishi referring to an Ainu man as nispa - this likely is a part of Shiraishi coping and still coming to terms with Kiro’s death and he feels at least some level of connectivity with the Ainu and other native peoples more than he did at the beginning.

The man does not look at Shiraishi as he replies, but it is clear that when Shiraishi used nispa, it got his attention enough that he felt that he owed him a reply to his question.  He immediately mentions that there is a wen kamuy that is a problem in another kotan. 

Shiraishi isn’t too keen on making more money through killing bears, in part this is a method that he doesn’t contribute to so he may be looking for a way for him to contribute to their travel funds.  However, when he was traveling with Asirpa, Ogata and Kiro, he frequently pitched in the post hunting efforts. The man goes on to state that the bear has killed 5 people and all of them were panning for gold dust in a river.  This all of a sudden gets Sugimoto’s attention, his eyes have a slight sparkle in them as he inquires about it with a surprised expression.

The man continues to state that people want to collect gold dust but the wen kamuy is keeping them away from the river - it seems that perhaps this wen kamuy is linked to preventing people from doing more harm to the river . . . Sugimoto then covers his face as he states that he wonders about a river that still has gold dust and that he was never ever to find it.  He’s instinctively covering his face as his remark is connected to Umeko and his quest to get money for her and how he is still uncomfortable with really speaking about this to others.

We don’t get to see the man’s facial expression - he tells them about a rumor that a man made 50 yen in one day and that if they wanted to make money they should do that and avoid the wen kamuy.  . . based on their white colored eyes the boys are shocked at this rumor.

Of course this means they are going to head to were the wen kamuy is.

There is then a man collecting firewood who almost falls off of a small cliff -

The man screams for help and it reveals a group of men panning for gold in the river.  They all appear to be ethnically Japanese and we learn that his name is Heita.  A man who looks like Ogata’s long lost cousin yells his name and runs off to try to help him.

It looks like perhaps his father and a son are near him in the water.  Heita’s relation to these other men is still unclear. The big reveal is that Asirpa and Sugimoto are able to save him - and that he is the man who was attacked by the bear in the beginning.  He still has the scar on his forehead but clearly no bear chomp marks on the neck.

It then focuses on the small wooden case with the bear carrying a fish (not to scale) and walking upright like a human.  The tagline even says “he died, but he’s not dead!!!” What does this even mean? Are these Japanese gold scavengers unaware of the danger of the wen kamuy?  Are they subjected to the wrath of it?  Is that his actual case or was it procured from someone else?  Is it supposed to protect him from bears?

Time for some observations from these two bear themed chapters.

Chapter 216 is pretty much an example of what not to do when in danger of being killed by a white bear.  Don’t argue and try to one up each other on the ice floe when Vasily could have shot the bear and they could have called it a day.  This complete comedy of errors results in them losing the bear as Sugimoto violates the bear to kill it without damaging the pelt.  There needs to be a reminder that Shiraishi was right from the get go.  Deal with the bear and move on.  Instead, Sugimoto hurts himself more and Asirpa seemed to snap out of her desire to have the white bears fur at any cost.

Chapter 217 has Sugimoto and Asirpa accompanying the unnamed Ainu man and they successfully manage to kill a brown bear and give it proper treatment.  I’m really stuck on Sugimoto not wearing snowshoes - is he now less likely to adopt Ainu customs and practices after realizing that Asirpa wants to fight for her people? This Ainu man seems more distant but still helpful.  We don’t know his name either - names are so important in GK.  Noda withholds names on purpose . . . I’d say that Shiraishi and Asirpa have a better chance of becoming closer or more trusting of him but Sugimoto is keeping his distance.  Is this a result of Kiro’s betrayal? There is a wen kamuy on the loose and it is associated with those who pan for gold in the river.  The kotan wants it killed because it is a danger but could it be more than that?  Is it acting out the wrath of the gods on those who pollute the river in the search for gold?  I think there is more to this story, something about how the Ainu man lures them into to going after the gold and the wen kamuy. I’m suspicious of his information . . . I think the Ainu man wants them to leave and go there on purpose. There is Heita the man attacked by a bear who isn’t dead.  My crazy hypothesis is that he had a salmon or something like that on him.  I’m totally being crazy but why not?  The bear on the case has a salmon. Ogata time!  I have to put this famous short cartoon from the NFB first. 

This is sometimes how I feel Ogata is perceived by other members of the GK cast - mainly Sugimoto but also by Tsurumi.

What Ogata’s brief few pages are showing that he’s back in the game, and he’s excited to know that Tsurumi doesn’t have Asirpa and that things will get interesting in Hokkaido.  So he’s slowly following them cautiously determining what has happened.

Chapter 203 had this interesting page with the lynx crossing the path/road through the forest on Karafuto.  It looks like the lynx crossed ahead of them since there are no dogsled trails in the snow.  I could see Ogata eventually getting ahead on them and intercepting them.  The lynx is looking back at the viewer . . .

I am curious to see how this page is shown in the tankoban.  If it is redrawn so the lynx is behind dogsled track marks that would imply he’s now following them. If Ogata manages to get to their group before anyone else - I’m curious to see what happens when Ogata talks to him.  It is more than likely that when Ogata wounded Vasily he may have questioned him .  . . Or if Ogata didn’t let Vasily know he can speak Russian will he use that to his advantage against Sugimoto?  I could see him using that as an advantage against Tsurumi as well.  If the two snipers teamed up and Ogata can communicate with him - that is going to be an interesting combination.  That is as long as Vasily doesn’t want his stupid cat rematch.  Again, Vasya, you lost. Lastly, let’s not forget that Koito is at a low point but he’s alive.  I’m hoping that this will be the start of a turning point for Koito in the quest for the gold and his blind devotion to Tsurumi.  That will get interesting and where is Tsukishima going to fall?  Tsurumi or will he align with Koito?

[aalissy]

Werecat

Did I do this prompt correctly??! I have noo idea xP. Hopefully, it’s still alright though :). It does have some Adrienette in it though cause I just couldn’t help myself hehe. Lemme know if you like it :)

AO3

You just had to jump straight in front of that akuma blast, didn’t you?” Marinette sighed exasperatedly as she dodged the panicking crowds of people rushing to get away from the latest threat to Paris. The small black cat she held clutched in her arms merely mewed at her pathetically, ears dropped low on its head. “Just what am I going to do with you, little buddy?” she scratched behind one of his ears leaving him a purring puddle in her arms. Giggling quietly she finally reached the bakery and scrambled to get inside. Locking the door quickly behind her, Marinette raced upstairs to find her scared parents huddled by the TV nearby.

“Marinette! I’m so glad you’re alright! We heard on the news that there was an akuma attack!” her mom rushed up to her, enveloping her in a tight hug.

“I’m fine, I promise!” Marinette quickly consoled the two.

“Where did you find a cat in all that madness?” her dad was staring at the quietly sleeping kitten that was still curled within her arms.

“Erm, well... I may have picked up a stray after the attack started to make certain he didn’t get hurt?” she said anxiously. As though Chat knew they were talking about him, his green eyes blinked open, giving a sleepy meow.

“That’s my little girl! Always out to save those who can’t look out for themselves!” Marinette was suddenly enveloped in a warm hug from her father.

“Yup!” she chuckled nervously, “That’s me! Now I think this little guy is starting to get hungry,” the designer raced up the stairs to her room, quickly shutting the trapdoor behind her.

“Just for tonight you know, Marinette! We can’t afford to keep a cat above the bakery!” her mom’s voice shouted after her.

“Phew! That could have been a disaster!” Marinette sighed, sinking low onto her chaise in relief. Meowing at her in question, Chat curled up on her stomach, purring softly as he closed his eyes once again. Smacking a hand to her forehead in frustration, Marinette groaned, “Are you serious, Chat?! How am I supposed to move you while you’re all content and happy there!” Stroking the cat’s fur, she scanned around the room for anything she could use as a distraction. Eyes widening in satisfaction when she found her desired object, she whistled quietly to get the sleeping kitten’s attention. Throwing a ball of red yarn she was saving for a fashion project, Marinette sighed sadly as Chat immediately tore off after the ball, instantly tearing the fabric, “Well at least he’s off my stomach now.”

Tiptoeing around the mischievous kitten, she opened the trapdoor to her balcony, intent on becoming Ladybug and restoring Chat to his old form. However, she was stopped by a sad mew that came from the cat. “Chat... I’m sorry hon, but I have to go. We need to find Ladybug and get you back to normal,” Marinette said comfortingly before attempting to get up to her balcony again. However, the kitten let out a harsh yowl when she pushed up and Marinette winced as she looked back at the small animal. Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time that day, she went back down to him, scratching him behind the ears, “Silly kitty. Can’t you see I’m trying to save you?” The cat merely purred, rubbing himself up against her legs. Rolling her eyes, Marinette sat down, plopping Chat into her lap. “You better fall asleep quickly,” she muttered, petting him slowly as she nervously stared outside. Finally, after a few minutes of gentle humming, the kitten finally fell back asleep and Marinette carefully and quietly planted him atop one of her many pillows before going outside to transform.

“Looks like you’re going through a cat-astrophe,” Tikki giggled at her.

Groaning, Marinette glared at the kwami, “Don’t you start too! Now come on and let’s go defeat this akuma!”

After an exhausting battle without her usual partner to back her up, Marinette was finally able to purify the akuma. Zipping back to her house, she detransformed into her civilian self. “Chat! Are you alright?” Marinette called out after she opened the trapdoor. Instead of the sleeping superhero that she was expecting, however, she was instead greeted by the sight of a slumbering Adrien. Letting out a terrified squeal, the trapdoor slammed shut after Marinette let go of it. Wincing at the loud noise, she opened the hatch again, looking down at an Adrien who was currently rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Marinette?” he yawned, “What are you doing here?”

“What am... What am I doing here?! What are you doing here!? This is my house!” she screeched at him.

“Huh... guess I must have just taken a quick cat nap then,” Adrien shrugged, snuggling even further into her covers.

“Ch-Chat?” Marinette’s eyes widened.

“Yes purrincess?” he mumbled to her as his eyes fluttered closed.

Swallowing the giant lump in her throat, Marinette finally entered her bedroom, “Do you remember what happened today, kitty?”

“Mmm... not really. Except I think I had a dream where I chased a ball of yarn around the room. Weird huh?” Adrien’s brow was creased in a frown.

Smoothing out the subtle furrow, she nudged him gently with her shoulder, “You were changed into a cat today because of an akuma.”

“Oh yeah. Guess that’s where the yarn dream came from,” his green eyes opened to stare into her own blue ones.

“Uh-huh,” she squeaked, “The thing is Chat... I don’t think it kept up your transformation after Ladybug defeated the akuma.”

“What do you mean, Mari?”

Gulping, she found herself unable to form words and instead made a vague gesture down to his clothes.

Looking down at himself, the boy gave her a crooked smile when he finally realized what she meant, “Well I guess the cat’s out of the bag then.”

“Are-are you serious?!” she screeched, “That’s how you’re going to react to me discovering your secret identity! With a cat pun!” Marinette grabbed one of the pillows next to her and began smacking him with it furiously.

“Ouch! Ok, ok! I’m sorry!” he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender but Marinette continued hitting him.

“Had I been anyone else! Anyone else! You would have been screwed!” she shouted, still whacking him despite his pleadings, “Do you have any idea how lucky you are!!?”

“W-what do you mean?” his eyes grew as large as saucers as his hands fell to the side uselessly.

“I mean that I’m your partner, you idiot!” Marinette huffed, finally tossing the pillow away.

“Y-you’re Ladybug?” Adrien stuttered out.

Ducking her head down, Marinette nodded shyly, feeling a rush of embarrassment over just beating her crush up with pillows. Her head was lifted up by a gentle thumb, however, as Adrien’s green eyes stared imploringly into her own.

“You’re Ladybug?” he asked earnestly.

“That’d be me,” she smirked crookedly.

“You’re Ladybug!” Adrien shouted before tackling her into a giant hug.

“Yes,” Marinette laughed, “I think I said that about four times now.”

Suddenly, his lips were planted firmly upon hers as he smashed their faces together, “I love you, Marinette,” he said softly after pulling back slightly.

“And I love you, my silly kitty.”

[scribblescrabblebabble]

RoyEd Week 2k19 Day 2!

Title: Seven(?) Days

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Chapter: Day 2- Colorless (Photographers/ wartime Au)

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- Fanfic.net   AO3

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now. For @royedweek2019 ‘s RoyEd Week!

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

Ed sighed in frustration, "Okay, which of you can tell me a single technical aspect of this photo?" He clicked to another picture on the Smartboard, seemingly the hundredth that period. His students' last assignment had gone so poorly he felt that they all needed a class-long review before he could trust them with another.

'11th grade my ass.' He internally seethed. At least his punishment was working- they all looked as miserable as he felt.

His question was met with silence, and Ed wanted to be allowed to punch school property, "Tell me or you all fail the project."

Half of the class readily shouted, "Rule of thirds!" Whilst others guessed very valiantly.

"Good. This one?" He clicked and was met with several "umm"s, but no real answers. Even Chelsea Jones, his star pupil, looked glassy-eyed with boredom! And her project had actually been okay! Apparently, none of these kids were afraid of an F in Photography.

He decided to be generous with this one, as it was a trickier piece, "I see a good use of texture and natural framing with the branches and the model, yeah?"

The class agreed unenthusiastically.

"Listen, if you guys didn't want this, you should have given half of a damn about your work! I know most of you just want the art credit, but you actually have to pass the class to receive the credit, you know.

A few weak, "Yes Sir"s, and Ed forged ahead.

He clicked to the next piece, and almost didn't hear the varied shouts of "diagonal lines" and "shallow depth of field", as the photo in question caught Ed off guard.

It was one of Roy's photos.

An older one, back when he was journaling some strange commune in the Eastern region of Amestris.

Ed must have been silent for longer than he'd have liked, as Ella Swindell in the back of the classroom tentatively asked, "Mr. Elric?"

He snapped his attention back to his class and coughed, "Yes, good answers. Another good element here is the choice of black and white. In this scenario, it really adds some good drama to the piece."

Black and White photography was a favorite of Roy's. Not only because of its homage to printed papers but because of his ever-present flair for the dramatic. Roy left for a month on that job, and right after his return he'd proposed to Ed. At the time it had been their longest work-related time apart. How long had it been since he'd seen Roy? Five months? Or had half a year really already passed? Would he see-

Ed stopped his train of thought right there, violently jabbing his trackpad to move the PowerPoint along. To Ed's dismay, it was another of his husband's works taken of their late cat, kindly named Pissface. This particular shot had been on their cat's supposed birthday, and she wore a little birthday hat and a confused expression.

Roy had cried when Pissface died. She was old, but it had still seemed too sudden the morning they found her. Ed had cried watching Roy cry, and it was all just a big mess of tears. Al had even teared up audibly over the phone when Ed broke the sad news. It was an all-over tear-filled day. If Roy died, Ed didn't know what…

'Nope, stop it!' Ed willed his mind away from death, 'He hasn't called because there is a fucking war falling out around him, idiot brain!'

A few students "aww"ed at Pissface's cuteness, and others scanned the photo quickly for an answer to their teacher's impending question. Ed decided to throw them a curveball, "Improve this photo for me. Tell me where it falls short."

One kid, Ed thought Jason Matthews, but he wasn't paying much attention, suggested, "Maybe make the depth of field shallower so that the cat was more in focus?"

Ed hummed in thought and let a few more students ramble out some stunted ideas. He clicked to the final slide as the classroom door behind him opened. Assuming this to be Mordecai Fitzgerald, who had been out of class finishing a test, as per the teacher's email, Ed didn't bother with a glance.

He droned, "take a seat and don't be a nuisance." And to all, he said, "Well, give me some ways to improve this one!"

They continued, embarrassed silence would have sent Ed up a wall, had a noticeably deep, very Roy voice not interjected, "You could make it black and white. It would take away from the busy background and add a nice bit of drama to the subject.

He whipped his head around to meet the merrily amused gaze of his husband. As per Ed's command upon entering the classroom, Roy had taken a seat in a further back desk. Several students looked between him and their shocked teacher confusedly.

Ed smiled brightly. "What did I say about being a nuisance, you ass!" His reprimand meant little, as he had already stood and hastened to his husband's side. He only just remembered not to pounce him in front of the dozen seventeen-year-olds in the room, so he settled on a tight embrace and a regrettably chaste kiss. The class murmured, and a few let out joking "oooooo"s.

Ed, still with Roy's arm around his middle, turned to his class to snap, "Shut it!" After a short admonishing look from his husband, Ed sighed, "Class, this is Roy, a photojournalist. He's been out of the country for a while doing work journaling the war effort up North."

Eric Headley, the son-of-a-bitch, called out, "D'ya kiss a lot of photojournalists, Mr. Elric?"

"Only the one I'm married to, Eric. Now, everyone, go fix your pathetic excuses of projects until the bell rings. And if I see a phone, we all get to stay in class for fifteen extra minutes after the bell, got it?"

The students, now far more interested in their teacher and his husband than their work, reluctantly slouched to their respective computers to work the class away, keeping a curious eye on the two men now talking quietly together behind Mr. Elric's desk, wide smiles on both of their faces. If Ed discreetly rubbed away some water building in his eye, nobody commented.

Back at home, after their kisses had turned far less chaste and after Roy had barely had the time to set his luggage down properly before Ed practically attacked him, they lay in their bed together, Ed's head on Roy's chest and Roy's laptop on his stomach, clicking through many photographs detailing his journeys with the war effort.

"NatGeo's gonna go fucking ballistic over that one." Ed commented on the current picture on display of a soldier playing some kind of ball game with some civilian children.

Roy laughed, the sound a deep rumble to Ed, pressed against the other man as he was, "Just you wait till I get to the shoot of these kind, elderly weaving-women. It's got dusty lighting and everything."

Ed hummed, "Perfect. I'll have to show 'em to my class the next time I need to re-teach them shit."

"I'm honored my work'll be put to such good use. Did they take well to my others?"

Ed leaned his head back to catch Roy's amused gaze, "I knew you added those! Last time I share a PowerPoint with you."

The photojournalist grinned, "I wanted to give them something other than Ansel Adams to critique."

"Hey, I had more than just Ansel on there! I wouldn't want to make it too easy for them."

Roy smiled and lifted his hand from the trackpad of the laptop to stroke Ed's loose hair, "Of course not."

Before Ed could pick up Roy's job of clicking through the photos, the hand left his hair and closed the laptop. The blonde whines as Roy turned away to set the computer over the side of the bed, "I wanted to see the weaving women!"

Roy turned back, and Ed latched back onto his chest to hear the rumble of his light laughter her again, "We have all the time in the world tomorrow to look at the rest. Let's get some sleep, love."

Ed grumbled about the pet name but settled into Roy's side all the same, not about to let a half year's worth of waiting go to waste.

They slept, and if Ed gripped his husband a little tighter in his sleep, well, Roy definitely wasn't complaining.

~End~

[takaraphoenix]

Review: 3x14 - A Kiss From a Rose

So, @kimmycup and I finished watching that episode!

Let’s a try a different tune and be more positive, because overall there’s such a... tired weariness that settled deep in my bones concerning this show at this point. And that’s actually actively making me sad.

So, let’s talk about the things I liked:

1.) The fact that a stranger Seelie who never met Clary makes a better Clary impersonation than Jonathan can make a Jace impersonation. Like. Boy. Your acting used to be way better. (And yes, this is under “liked” because, honestly, I find Jonathan just straight up hilarious at this point. Boy needs to get his shit together, man.)

No, but seriously - what I liked about it was how fast Clary noticed it. It’s come a time where I once again forgot that I used to actually like Clary at some point. And this was exactly why I liked her! She notices shit! Instead of wasting a whole-ass episode where a character doesn’t notice when someone is impersonating a person they should know really well (*side-eyes Alec real hard here*), she is like nearly instantly “Well that ain’t Jace, huh”. And the trick with the rose to verify was really clever.

I miss them writing Clary as clever. Most of the time they just write her as raging and loud, or insanely horny and stabby. Just... Clary being clever are her best character moments and I like them.

2.) I LOVE SOFT!JACE SOFT!JACE IS MY FAVORITE JACE. Seriously from the cute bedhead, to him again picking something really thoughtful and really romantic to do - I love that romantic!Jace is canon, considering how much he is always reduced to just being a horny playboy by the fandom that apparently never ever saw an episode of the show huh - to him being graceless for a change and falling flat on his ass. Sure, that totally destroyed my headcanon that Jace can ice-skate, but heeey, it’s cute as fuck so I forgive canon.

3.) ISABELLE DOING SCIENCE. Sure, it was only short, but urgh, I love scientist!Izzy. It got so lost in all the romance drama and addiction drama and her... suddenly... also being weapon’s master for whatever reason (y’all still haven’t explained what that shit even meant, aside from you saving on giving another character a speaking role to hand Clary her Super Special Swords). I am still calling bullshit on that entire whole plotline because it is in fact bullshit to act like Izzy and Alec haven’t know all along how the Clave operates, but if it gets Isabelle back to actually doing something productive and showing off her skills instead of just... suffering in some form? I’m all here for that.

4.) Magnus actually opening up to Alec. Y’all know that my biggest complaint about canon!Ma/ec is that they don’t communicate and would literally rather bite off their own tongues than share personal stuff with each other. I like that so far in this half-season, they have... actually been talking about their feelings. It’s low-key pathetic that you gotta praise the very baseline of what a healthy relationship is, but here we are.

Seriously though, the feeling that was conveyed, how Harry played the scene, how much Magnus’ loss stood in the forefront there.

Things I didn’t like:

1.) I don’t trust this show enough to not bring Jordan and Maia back together. Yes, I did like that they talked shit out and had a good, surprisingly long scene together (instead of the usual incredibly rushed quick moments of Actual Talking before they dive right back into drama and action), but this show... I mean, come on, they chose a shared bite that brought Izzy back into addiction to open up the S/izzy, so if you really put it past them to bring Jordan and Maia back together only based on them having One Good Conversation, you do not know this show well.

So, yeah, that’s what I’m currently wearily expecting them to do, because they have given Bat a full screentime of 5 minutes so far on this show so I am somehow not thinking Ba/ia is gonna be endgame.

2.a) That whole Lorenzo story, start to finish, is literally just forced additional drama. And I do mean from start. Seriously, what reasoning goes behind “We need a new High Warlock of New York... so let’s take this outsider instead of a proper representative of our community like, say, Catarina Loss”. But no, we couldn’t have Cat do it and it not being dramatic. We needed a secondary antagonist so let’s put an OC in here. And like, yeah, I like Lorenzo alright, in the role he is in, but it’s also rather... unnecessary. Like, there’s already enough going on and Magnus is honestly already suffering enough without additionally getting kicked while he’s on the ground??

2.b) Also I am willing to bet money that the whole entire story-point of Magnus losing his loft is so Ma/ec can find ~a place of their own~ and move in early after all. Because seriously literally every single loss and suffering Magnus has endured in this show had the sole purpose of furthering the ship. I’d like for him to be, you know, treated as his own person?

Also, high-key Alec threatening Lorenzo over the very fair deal that Lorenzo made with Magnus, regardless of how petty it was, was... Not Good. This is exactly part of the point I keep making why the “OH NO the Clave is torturing Downworlders! We would have never expected uwu” is absolute bullshit for Alec and Isabelle. Because treating Downworlders as inferior is literally how they were raised. And this little display of “I can strip you off your power for upsetting my boyfriend because I’m a Shadowhunter” was very much an act of “I am the superior species” and that’s... uh. Yeah.

2.c) What also bothers me is the magic though. I mean this was like... borrowed magic? From Lorenzo. So, does it wear off? Is this going to be like another addiction plotline where Magnus pulls a Willow Rosenberg and goes for regular magic-fixes because he needs more whenever it wears off?? Because I can’t imagine that “a higher demon took all of my magic in a deal” can literally be resolved by a 2 second, non-draining magic transfer from the High Warlock? Like, Lorenzo wasn’t even outta breath? It can’t have been that easy.

3.) Filing. Okay, hear me out on this one. Literally everything in the Institute is incredibly high tech - all their fancy screens and scans, their database of warlocks, security system, the whole 3D projection of the city they can pull up. There is just no way that they have not digitalized all those old tomes and couldn’t just cross-referrence “Morning Star Sword” in some database. No way in fucking hell.

This is part where the whole world building doesn’t seem fully thought through again. They have all of those heavy, old books in their library. They would have digitalized those. They would have created Institute-wide networks to cross-referrence instead of solely relying on heavy old books in libraries that you gotta comb in person to find shit.

Not in a world where “A Shadowhunter in Paris has just reported a Stele missing” reaches the New York Institute in five nanoseconds. They’re more organized than that and they have shown to be more digitalized than that.

Sure, they’d still have the libraries for aesthetic reasons, but they sure as shit would have used spells or something, or even the Silent Brothers who apparently have enough free time to illustrate Paradise Lost, to digitalize their books.

4.) Luke. Luke getting stalked by those cops for? What? Reason?? Seriously, what charges do they have. It’s not like 0llie died, she was apparently transferred so she could have easily cleared Luke of whatever he was accused of when she had disappeared. There is... literally no legal reason why he is still suspended and why they would have cops trailing him? And then he just... immediately gets arrested. You really think that in the what, ten minutes that you had lost sight of Luke since you stalked him at the café, he had enough time to slaughter all those people. What the fuck, man.

[hyperfixation-loto]

Do not go gentle into that good night

I decided to write my own fics thanks to @corvo-bianco-lilacs who inspired me with her amazing writings. 

Thanks to @yennefer-of-rivia for helping me correct it and @wolkovk for this brilliant idea. 

@witchaddiction since you’re a fan of Sheala/Philippa, I hope you enjoy it too 

Here’s the first chapter of this mafia AU, enjoy !

Chapter One :

Berlin, Germany, December 4th, 21h05 :

« What was that, Radovid ? »

A woman with fierce amber eyes asked the man who was tied up to a chair, in the middle of the abandoned building. She looked at him with disdain written all over her face. She was a woman of incredible beauty and everything about her screamed power.

 « I didn’t want to do it ! I swear ! Please Philippa, you have to believe me ! »

 The man named Radovid looked pleadingly at the woman in front of him, sweaty and bloodied from all the beating he had received. Not from Philippa herself of course, she wouldn’t dirty her hands with the like of him, but from her men. One men in particular who had already retreated back to the HQ.

 « Philippa, please, it wasn’t me ! »

Philippa looked at him with cold eyes, not letting any emotion show on her face. After a silent moment, she turned her head towards her men. She considered them pawns, never taking count of their safety or well being. After all, they were only just men crawling before her to sooth their need for money. And oh boy, did she have money.

 « See that ? » Philippa gestured her revolver towards the trembling boy. « That, is what I call a treacherous little cockroach, who wouldn’t hesitate to betray me the minute I turn my back. »

 She scoffed, her red painted lips contorting into a smile of pure hatred and glared at him again while her men fidgeted but said nothing in fear of awakening a deeper and much more dangerous.

 « I never took you for a beggar, really. It’s pathetic. I taught you better than that. »

She let out a disappointed sighed and softly shook her head, putting on a fake sad look, staring at Radovid who sank deeper into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

 « Nothing to say boy ? What a shame. »

Philippa extended her arm, pressing the silver revolver into Radovid’s forehead, which only made him tremble more. The thought that tonight would probably be his last filled him with fear.

 « Wait ! Please wait ! » he yelled, with a trembling voice, cracking under the pressure. Philippa slightly relaxed her arm and cocked one perfect eyebrow at him. « I can tell you who ordered me to do it ! I know who wants you dead ! »

 « Oh really, you know ? You decided that just now, huh ? Just before my finger touched the trigger. How convenient. » Philippa said with sarcasm clearly present in her voice. Seeing that Radovid still said nothing, she pressed her high heeled boot into his groin. He let out a painful yelp. « Well speak, dog, I’m getting really impatient. »

 « It’s Sheala ! »

The revelation was followed by a deadly silence. Philippa retreated her foot, clenching her jaw. Conflict was apparent in her eyes but she said nothing.

A woman with long wavy blond hair walks out of the shadow, placing herself beside Philippa, with a look of disbelief. Philippa glanced at her, still silent and nodded towards her before placing herself behind Radovid. He whimpered while the other woman advanced before him. He knew her of course, who would not. The associate of Philippa Eilhart, Margarita Laux-Antilles.

 « And how exactly can we believe you ? We know you have always hated Philippa, since the day she took you in as a child. The meeting with the other gangs was just the perfect opportunity for you to make a move on Philippa’s life. And now you suddenly claim to know who wanted her dead ? Do you take us for fools ? »

 It’s true, Radovid had always hated Philippa. She was a vindictive woman who only cared about her business and the means to achieve her rise to power. But it was not that part that bothered him, it was the fact that he knew, deep inside him, that Philippa killed his father in her ascension to power. She had then taught him everything when he was a child, from business to killing.

 « It’s alright Rita, he will tell me the truth. »

 She harshly put her two hands on his shoulders, squeezed him and whispered viciously in his ear. « He has a strong desire to live after all. Look at him, all sweaty and begging. So, tell me Radovid, why would you do that, hmmm ? What could push a coward such as yourself, to betray me ? You knew that if you failed, the consequences would be terrible. »

   Berlin, Germany, two days before, city’s underground :

 The entire big shots of the mob were meeting in Berlin’s underground for an assembly. The Yakuza, the Italian, Sicilian, Russian mafia and many others were there. Everyone was reunited in a big underground concert like room, with tables everywhere around. The different members of the mob sat at their own table, waiting for the meeting to begin.

 Each table family had her guards posted besides their table, all ready to jump into action if someone tried something. They were all waiting for the opening speech which would be given by none other than the ex counselor of Vizimir, Sigismund Dijkstra.

 « I heard the Lodge will be here tonight, Eilhart might even make an appearance. »

A Japanese man wearing black clothes whispered to this his partner. They were from the Yakuza mafia, the tattoos giving them away.

« Wait… She actually exists? I thought she was some spooky legend since we never saw her at a meeting. » the other murmured.

« Of course she exists, dumbass. How could you think that all she has done could be a legend ? Damn, she’s an icon. I think i’m gonna ask her an autograph. »

 His partner looked at him with wide eyes « You do that and you’ll probably get shot before you can say ‘Eilhart-sama !’ » he chuckled while the other punched him in the shoulder.

 The door to the room opened, emitting a strident sound. Everyone stopped talking to see who came in.

 « Talk about being discreet. » One of the newly arrived woman said. It was Triss Merigold, member of the inner circle of the Lodge. She was wearing a long green dress that fitted her form, her red hair tied in a loose bun. She scanned the room with her green eyes.

 The room began to whisper their astonishment.

 « Eilhart, she’s here ! » whispered a man.

« Heh, she finally makes her big entrance. » said another.

 The whispers kept on until a single grave voice rose in the room.

« Everyone quiet down, you starting to piss me of. »

 Sigismund Dijkstra rose from his seat and walked towards the scene.

 « Now that everyone has calmed the fuck down, we can begin. »

Philippa Eilhart, wearing a long fur coat, shot a smirk at Dijkstra and went towards her table, followed by two other women. Margarita was the one dressed with a long dark blue dress. The other woman had dirty blonde hair and was wearing jeans and a leather jacket. She was quite a sight amongst suits and dresses, not caring a bit about them.

 The last one who followed was Radovid walking anxiously behind them, wearing a black suit. He didn’t seem well and couldn’t stop sweating. Triss shot him a disgusted look.

 « Radovid, Triss, go sit at the table, I will join you in a moment. » Philippa spoke sternly. Triss sighed and looked dejectedly at Radovid who directed his eyes to the dirty ground. 

 « Why do I have to babysit baldy ? »

 Triss didn’t like Radovid. Well, nobody from the inner circle liked Radovid. He was considered a weakling and a coward, despite what Philippa taught him as a child. They never understood the motives behind his ‘adoption’ but never said a word to Philippa, concluding that if she had done this, it was for clear reasons. And none of them doubted Philippa’s decisions.

 « Because I said so. Now go. »

 Triss mumbled and moved towards their table followed straight by Radovid. Philippa watched them go with an unreadable look on her face. 

 « What is it Phil ? »

 Margarita looked at Philippa with concern.

 « Not to be a downer but the speech began, shouldn’t we sit down ? » Assire, the one with the leather jacket asked. She was the quiet type, never talking to say nothing. And she certainly hated those gatherings, she just wanted to go back to the manor to take care of her cat. Why did Philippa have chose her for this ? She sighed.

 « Not yet. I have reason to believe tonight is the night someone will try to kill me. »

 « Is that why you send Radovid and Triss away ? You believe it’s one of them ? » asked Margarita.

 Philippa just scoffed. « No. Well not Triss at least, I send her with him to keep an eye on him. He seems suspiciously angsty tonight, and I know for sure he still holds a grudge against me. Not to mention he- »

 The door of the room opened, cutting her mid-sentence.

 Memories came flooding back in Philippa’s head upon seeing the new arrivant. A woman in her thirties, hair cut just below her ears, sharp eyes looking right at her. Sheala de Tancarville, just as beautiful as she remembered, her soft features not betraying her manipulative nature.

 She was the leader of the Kovir Organization, created five years ago, a few months after everything had collapsed around Philippa. They were quickly rising to power and were feared and respected by everyone, but still not nearly as much as the Lodge was.

 The two women knew each other way before they both were big names in the mafia. Rivalry between the two was always there and most of the time it was violent and deadly.

 They stared at each other with intensity while Margarita, Assire and Sheala’s men stood there awkwardly, observing the exchange.

 « Damn, I could cut the sexual tension in this room with a knife. » said Assire earning her a sharp glare by both Philippa and Sheala, quickly shutting her up.

 « Philippa. » Sheala broke the silence « I am surprised you found the time to come to this meeting, you’re always so busy killing competition. » The snarky remark came with a smirk.

 Philippa returned the smirk. « You know how business is, killing, money, making an appearance so men shit their fancy pants. » Sheala just narrowed her eyes. « Well if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go take my seat now. » With those words, Sheala turned her back and walked to the nearest free table.

 « Let’s go. » Philippa, Margarita and Assire joined Triss and Radovid at their own table.

 « Took you long enough, this one’s no fun! » said an exasperated Triss « What took you so long anyway ? ».

 « Nothing important. Now keep your mouth shut, the idiot in charge’s about to speak. » said Philippa, already bored with this meeting, and seeing Dijkstra didn’t appease her mood. 

 Dijkstra continued speaking, and servers passed between tables to distribute drinks. Philippa took a glass of red wine and sipped it, she then placed it on the table and turned to look at the man on the scene.

 He was speaking about the recent treaty signed between the different family’s, forbidding any violence between them in the city of Berlin, the current “Peace City” of the mob.

 While everyone was looking away, Radovid nervously opened the tiny bottle he had in hand and put the liquid in Philippa’s drink. He gulped down his own drink and slightly relaxed. The task was done, now all he had to do was to wait. He was sure his plan would be successful, simple but deadly, no one had seen him.

 Philippa stared at her drink with a blank expression, making Radovid tense. She suspected something, of course she did, her paranoid nature always saving her. She took her drink in hand, twirling the content. Then she hummed and made a gesture towards one of the guard, indicating for him to come closer.

 « Drink that, darling. »

 He was a young boy in his twenties. He wasn’t sure what to do, why was she offering him her drink ? He hesitated, so Triss spoke, without looking at him.

 « You heard her. »

 Philippa set her eyes on him, waiting. Radovid watched the whole scene, preparing himself to run. He was fucked, completely and entirely fucked. The minute the boy drank, Philippa would know it was him. Never would she suspect one of her inner circle, the only suspect here was him. He knew that. Before the young guard could take a sip, Radovid stood abruptly and made a run towards the exit.

 Philippa watched him go, bored and disappointed. Rita, Assire and Triss scoffed, looking at him running like he thought he had a chance.

 « So it’s like that. » she clapped her hands twice. The guards were ready to run after him « Catch him. I want him alive. »

 « Yes ma’am ! »

 They ran with their guns out, like dogs after a rabbit. The entire room stood, ready to make a move, all whispering.

 « The fuck’s going on ? »

Dijkstra, still on stage, exasperate at the display glared at Philippa.

 « Stop frowning Sigi, it makes you even uglier. » Philippa said, smirking at him while he threw her his most deadly look.

 Meanwhile Sheala eclipsed herself from the room. She watched Radovid running at her.

 « Help me ! You paid me to do this, not ? Help me ! » he yelled desperately, the guards catching up.

 « Yes I did, just so I could see you fail and be removed from Philippa’s family. »

 He looked at her in disbelief. He prepared to take out his gun, but he had no time as Sheala knocked him unconscious with hers.

 « Boys, he’s all yours. »

 Berlin, Germany, present day :

 « She-she paid me ! She paid me to do it ! » Radovid yelled, trembling like a leaf in Philippa’s grip.

 « Why ? »

 « I don’t know ! I swear to God I don’t know ! Revenge ? Sport ? I don’t fucking know ! »

 Philippa chuckled. She placed herself in front of him again.

 « Leave God out of this, Radovid. I want everybody back at the manor, except for you two » she pointed at two massive guards. « Rita, you too, go back. I’ll deal with him. »

 Margarita nodded « As you wish, I’ll see you later. » She walked out of the building and rode off with the rest of the men.

 The two guards posted themselves beside Philippa.

 Radovid stared at her, fear written all over his face.

 « Well, you’ve really been nothing but a disappointment to me.»

« Plea- please… »

 « Oh you can beg all you want. » she circles him like a lioness circles her prey. « No one will come to save you tonight. And you screwed up the chances you had with me. » She pointed her gun at his head. « Such a shame. » she pouted.

 « Philippa, do-don’t do this ! We can come to an arrangement ! »

 He desperately tugged at his robes.

« Sure, sure Radovid, once you’re dead. »

 He yelped and then a defeating sound was heard in the building. She looked at the dead corpse, no emotion showing. The two guards gulped.

 « A good thing done. Now, let’s go back to the manor, I’m starving. »

 She walked out of the building, followed by the two and entered her black BWM. One of the guards took the wheel while the other sat beside him.

They rode off on the main road, unaware that a car was following them.

« Don’t lose her. »

 Sheala de Tancarville sat at the back row of the car, looking straight ahead at Philippa’s car. They came at a descent and the car before them was going faster instead of slowing down.

« What’s going on ? »

  Back in Philippa’s car, she noticed this too.

 « What are you doing you dimwit ? Slow down ! »

 The guard panicked and put his foot on the breaks.

 « Ma’am ! I think someone trafficked the breaks ! »

 « For fuck’s sake! » she deadpanned.

 They were arriving at a crossroad, driving way too fast, with a truck coming from their right. Philippa was seriously starting to panic, but she hadn’t much time for that before the truck hit their car creating a deadly shock.

 Sheala jumped of her seat, scared for Philippa. She shouldn’t, she shouldn’t be scared like that. Not for her. Not after all that has happened. But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop looking at how the car spin until it crashed in a building.

 « Go ! At the car right now ! We have to-» save her. She stopped herself, but her men understood and sped up towards the car. Once it had stopped, Sheala ran to the car, fast as lightning.

« Philippa ! » she cried in anguish. « Philippa can you hear me ?! »

The car was on it’s hood, oil leaking out of it. Sheala cursed and kneeled to look inside, not caring about the two guards who were probably dead. She saw Philippa, unconscious and bleeding.

 « Lads ! Help me get her out, quickly! The car’s about the explode ! »

 « But, ma’am, shouldn’t we leave her there? Didn’t you wanted her dead? » asked one of them.

 No, no. She wouldn’t let her die like that, she couldn’t.

 « It was not a question. » she said, voice deadly.

 They hurried at her side, slowly pulling Philippa out of the car. One of the men took her in his arms and carried her to their own car. Sheala followed and sat down, taking Philippa’s bloodied body in her arms, gripping her as if she was going to vanish in thin air.

 Don’t die. Please don’t die. Why? Why was she thinking like this? The whole purpose of her gang was to take Philippa’s seat of power, it was about revenge. But now, seeing her like that, it revived bad memories. Memories she had sworn to forget. Tears welled up in her eyes but she didn’t let them escape.

 « Where to ma’am ? »

 Sheala thought about the one person who wasn’t affiliated with any gang. She had no choice, it was that or letting her Phil die. Her Phil ? What the fuck am I thinking.

 « Yennefer. Go to Yennefer. »

 If Phil made it out alive, she would probably hate her more than she already did.