#i drew this while really ill and i can’t help but add more onto him..

[gaydexvocaloid]

i love yuu

[httpsaiki]

Congrats on 300 love! I don’t think I’ve requested something yet from you even though I love your writing! Anyway, could I request a fic where Teruhashi and the (fem)reader are dating(usually I don’t mind what pronouns the reader has but for this one it’s kinda relevant. But you can make it gender neutral if you want)? So the two have been dating for a few months. The reason Teruhashi entered this relationship wasn’t because of “love” but because she wanted to get her fans off her back and what better was to do that than enetering a relationship with another girl. She this that it may help get her male fans off her and at first it’s great. Then the reader starts to see the relationship declining. At first Teruhashi was sweet and kind but now she is kind of rude to the reader, saying things like how she is embarrassing her or that if Teruhashi is so perfect why isn’t her s/o capable of being that way too. Mean ik (I don’t like Teruhashi if you couldn’t tell), the reader is also dealing with comments from her fans saying that the relationship is a charity case and such so she is feeling horrible in the relationship. A fight happens between the two and mean stuff is said. They break up and the reader isn’t taking it well. Not because she is upset she isn’t in the relationship cause she is happy to be out but because of the backlash from fans. Seeing this either Kuboyasu (jabjshsk I love him sm) or Saiki (love him too) comfort her and they begin to hang out more till they start to date. The two are now in a healthy and loving relationship and the reader gets to see what that feels like and how that wasn’t what she had with Teruhashi... I really just write this whole fic out lmao. I was going to write it but I’m simply lazy and I wanted to request something from you. As always ignore this or change anything if you don’t like it an take your time please don’t rush or stress yourself out. Ily hun❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much <3! I wanted to say that I adore this request and honestly was ready to drop everything to write it, what an amazing idea you have here! I’m worried I focused a little too much on the Teruhashi part but, man, I’m a sucker for angst so it was a lot of fun. I think I may have gone a little overboard, as I don’t think I’ve written something this long before. I’m sorry if it’s wrong or not quite what you wanted. Thank you so so much for this request, I love it!

Small edit: I forgot to add I picked Saiki for this, as I think I write him a bit better than Kuboyasu!

— Reader is female! Warnings for slight angst, break up, fighting.

WC: 3041

Italics are Saiki “speaking” telepathically.

Teruhashi is the perfect pretty girl, on the outside at least. —————————————————–

“So, what I’m trying to say is… Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Teruhashi asked on the rooftop one fateful evening after school. She looked as gorgeous as ever, trying to hide her slightly blushing face as she avoided your eyes. The wind was blowing gently through her hair, causing it to sway ever so slightly to one side. The sun was setting behind her, giving her an even more angelic glow to her appearance. You said yes, of course, how could you not? It was magical, especially when it was from the world’s prettiest girl. There was no way you could reject her.

The perfect couple. That’s how it appeared to be. For some time, that’s even how it was.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Your stunning, admirable, and perfect girlfriend. She’s amazing. A few months ago when she asked you to be her girlfriend you were exhilarated. The thought of dating what many considered to be the perfect girl was a chance you knew you just couldn’t pass up. All the time spent with her felt like cloud nine, she made sure you were happy no matter what, and of course, you tried to do the same for her. Her reputation truly held up, even in private.

Over those months, it amazed you what a wonderful girlfriend she was, having seemingly endless affection and love for you. It felt like she was more in tune with your emotions than you’d ever been. She was always ready to listen to your problems, whether you just wanted to vent or needed solutions. She was such a giver in the relationship that you even felt a little bad about it.

She knew that, but she’d never tell you. Not yet, anyway.

So many precious memories flashed through your mind as you thought about her. From getting ice cream on hot summer days to study dates amid a cold, snowy winter (where there wasn’t as much studying as there was cuddling). All the late nights you had spent with her, talking about everything and yet nothing. Video calls at the bright and early hours of the mornings just so she could get your opinion on what she should wear for the day. Every little thing you did together seemed as perfect as Teruhashi herself.

So where had it all gone wrong?

The relationship seemed like it was going great. What happened? What had you done wrong? Recently, Teruhashi had been acting anything but herself. She’s been aggressive, rude, and not interested in anything to do with your relationship at all. She’d avoid you, ignore your calls and texts. When she did see you, she’d throw insult after insult your way, blaming you for problems that were far from in your control, ones that her in her life, not yours. But that wasn’t even the half of it.

What made it even worse? That was only in private. In public, whenever she was with you (or without) she put on her little show of being Miss Perfect. You don’t know how you didn’t see through it before, looking back it was so obvious how fake it was. While in public you were sometimes able to convince yourself she still loved you, clinging onto a desperate hope that things weren’t nearly as bad as reality would tell you. Maybe she was just having a rough time? Her life must be hard, with the constant stalking and fans harassing her along with the need to keep everything in her life completely in order. She must just be tired of it and need somewhere to vent her anger. You didn’t mind being that person, but just not like this. You couldn’t always expect her to be perfect, and you hadn’t. You did your best to make it clear to her from the start that you didn’t need her to be perfect all the time and that you’d be there no matter what. If she wanted to relax in private with you, she was more than welcome to. She never did.

You had it rough, too. Her fan club was constantly harassing you as well. They called you names worse than she did, and had gone to extreme lengths just to get you to break up with her. They stole your things, drew on your desk, and were all-around horrible towards you. They claimed the only reason Teruhashi was dating someone like you was that she pities you, Teruhashi could do so much better. Deep down, you knew that may be the case, but she still asked you out for a reason, right? You never once complained about it, nor told Teruhashi. It would be okay in the end, and being with her was worth it.

Looking back, the red flags were there from the start. It would’ve been better if you caved to the fan club’s wishes from the beginning.

Your arguments seemed to only get worse with time. Insults being thrown your way more than once a day. During a particularly bad argument, she expressed how she felt she was the only one keeping the relationship alive, the only one that truly cared. For the first time, you fought back.

“How could you say such a thing! I do my best for you, I’m sorry we can’t all be Miss Perfect! I try so hard and yet it’s never good enough, is it?” You yelled in frustration, your voice was a lot louder and far more powerful than you intended. Teruhashi was visibly taken aback, despite her constant berating, you had never once raised your voice at her. She paused for a moment, clearly to think. You could easily tell just what she was thinking about.

You had no idea she’d been keeping track of everything you told her. Well, you did, but you never imagined your insecurities would be used against you in the way Teruhashi has been. Screaming them, bringing them up to your face, and forcing you to face them without warning. Using them to insult you, making them worse, and letting them dig deeper into the back of your mind. 

Her face contorted in anger, even angrier than before. Listing things “wrong” with you as if her life depended on it, Teruhashi began her angry ranting. She wanted to get it across to you that she’s perfect and you’re far from that. She listed everything you’d ever done that irked her, every annoying thing you’ve said, and every problem you’ve ever told her about. She mocked emotions you’d told her in confidence and confessed that she always found them dramatic and ridiculous. She expressed how embarrassing it was to be seen in public with you, how she should only be seen with people on the same level as herself. If that wasn’t enough, she dealt one last finishing blow.

“I never loved you anyway.”

She turned and she left, slamming the door to your house shut behind her.

Your mind went blank and you barely noticed your knees hitting the floor as you collapsed to the ground. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears soaking into your shirt. You couldn’t see nor hear, everything around you felt numb and dark. Did she really mean all of that? There was no way you were that bad of a girlfriend to her. 

Why did you still not want to break up?

Days passed and you still hadn’t left your bedroom, let alone your house. Your phone was blown up with texts from your friends, asking if you were sick. You learned from glancing at a few of the messages that Teruhashi had told them that. Reading her name hurt, it made you feel ill as you remembered what had happened a mere few days ago.

Your phone dinged once again. You reached out and grabbed it with a weak grasp, not having the energy to do more than the bare minimum. The name on your screen made a wave of nausea come over you, the content of the message not helping either.

From: Kokomi♡

I’m coming over.

You really needed to change that contact name. That wasn’t what was important, though. Why was she coming here? What else could she possibly need from you, and what on earth else could you possibly offer? You didn’t have much time to think about it, you needed to appear at least somewhat put together by the time she got here.

Your hair was just finished drying as you pulled on clean clothes. You made sure the entrance and living room areas of your house were clean, along with the kitchen. The knock at the door sounded so familiar, Teruhashi always knocked the same way. It sent chills down your spine. Pulling on the best neutral face you could muster and forcing your legs to move, you opened the door.

She looked different. There was no glow to her anymore. She’d never looked less like an angel in your eyes. Even compared to when she’d been yelling at you. It was jarring, almost like she’s a total stranger. It’ll make talking to her easier, you mused.

You wordlessly invited her in, stepping aside as she avoided eye contact and made her way to sit in the living room. Even once you were sat in front of her, she still wouldn’t look at you. You couldn’t tell if that was because she felt shame or disgust. You just hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“What do you need?” You started the conversation, keeping your voice as steady as you could muster. You were quite impressed with how well you were doing.

“We need to break up.” She stated, still not looking up. You rolled your eyes.

“As if I’d stay with you after that.” You spit out, trying to keep your words from sounding too venomous. A moment of silence, you could feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. The nerves were starting to get to you and one of you needed to say something before the panic could set in. Luckily, Teruhashi did.

“They were right, you know - the fan club?” She said quietly.

“What?” You were surprised, she knew about that?

“It was like a charity case. I only dated you to get them off my back. Didn’t work though. Shame.” Her voice was calm, way too calm to be saying something so harsh. She was fine just ending your relationship like that, no matter what you’d been through together.

“Oh... of course.” She really had never loved you. You were just a tool she could use to escape the mindless drones that claimed to support her. So it all had meant nothing. It was just too good to be true. 

She stood and wordlessly left, walking out of your life for good. Good riddance.

Your pain was only beginning to set in. You couldn’t care less that she broke up with you, you were miserable dating her anyways. No, the hardest part was you would be truly alone now. You knew once word got out that she broke up with you the whole school would blame you. There’s no way their perfect pretty princess could do wrong. It hurt to think about it, you’d probably lose your friends over this. There was one person, though, just maybe one person you could talk to.

Saiki Kusuo. An average looking boy, he didn’t stand out much. You had been friends with him months ago before you dated Teruhashi but she forced you to stop talking to him when you started dating. You never understood why, but she eventually told you that it’s because she used to like him before she got with you and she found it awkward for you to talk to him. You understood. The guilt ate you alive, but you complied. From that day on, you’d never again spoken a word to him.

You could tell just by looking at him he wasn’t like everyone else. He didn’t fawn all over Teruhashi when she entered a room and maybe that’s what drew you to him right now. He’d be the perfect friend, someone that wasn’t obsessed with her. You just hoped he’d forgive you.

“Hey, Saiki?” You asked, shyly walking up to him. He glanced up at you, an uninterested expression plastered on his face. He wasn’t visibly upset by you, but that only made you more nervous. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Realizing he wasn’t going to reply, you continued talking.

“I was just wondering if you’d be willing to have lunch with me. I-I know we haven’t spoken in a while but there are some things I’d like to clear up.”

Saiki knew exactly why you stopped talking to him. He wasn’t going to blame you for that, either. It wasn’t your fault. Sure, he was a little upset about it, you were someone whose presence he actually could tolerate. You were nice to talk to, mainly because you knew when was a good time and when to stop. Traits Saiki greatly admired and appreciated in a person. He might have even liked you a little.

He wasn’t about to let you go. Not as easy as the first time. “Sure.” 

His response was curt and blunt, but you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your features. It was your first genuine smile in months. Maybe the whole world wouldn’t be completely against you.

“Thank you.” You stated simply, turning to sit back in your seat. It seemed like such a meaningless thanks, but Saiki knew there was more behind it than that.

Lunch came quickly enough and before you knew it you were eating under a tree with Saiki. You explained everything that happened over the last couple of months, how awfully you’d been treated behind the scenes. You apologized more than necessary for abandoning Saiki, trying to convey that you didn’t want to, but your ex-girlfriend had somewhat forced you to. 

Saiki was forgiving, and far more understanding than he needed to be about the situation you were in along with the one you found yourself in now. Deep down, he was happy to have you back. Even if you weren’t super close before, he wanted to help you feel better and get over the torturous relationship you had just left.

So Saiki was there for you. The little lunch meets becoming a daily occurrence and he did his best to keep the Teruhashi fan club away from you. Talking to Saiki felt different, it was like he was genuinely listening and cared about what you told him. He was eager to help and aided as much as he could in your recovery.

Weeks passed as the routine kept up. On the weekends you’d meet for dessert and studying. Everything you did with Saiki felt right, it felt safe and healthy. You hadn’t realized how suffocating your old relationship was - even during the good days. 

It wasn’t until Saiki asked you out and you said yes that you truly experienced what being loved felt like. It was late, well after the sun went down. Saiki had snuck into your house, claiming that his parents were being annoying but you knew that was a cover for the fact he missed you. There was no way they were awake these early hours of the morning. He saw your tired face under the dim light that peaked in from your window, as you woke up from his sudden appearance in your bedroom. Saiki felt a small rush. He needed to tell you. Now.

“Y/N” He spoke. 

“Saiki?” The confusion was evident in your voice, “You spoke?” You were clearly tired after being disrupted from your sleep. Never having heard him speak before wasn’t helping with your state.

“Yeah.” He whispered, reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of your eyes, letting it linger on your cheek. It was a little more than platonic, just like the look in his eyes.

“I really like you, Y/N.” He whispered once again, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. 

But you did. Your eyes shot open, blinking a little in surprise. There was no way he just said that, you must be dreaming. There was no way this pink-haired boy that made you feel more than anyone else ever had was standing in your bedroom, at four o’clock in the morning saying he likes you.

You sat up, “You really mean that?” It came out without you intending it to. It probably sounded rude, but you were far beyond the point of being awake enough to care.

“Yeah.” He said, a small chuckle coming out, “I do.”

You didn’t say anything, all you did was slide back on your bed, making room for Saiki and open your arms. He took the hint and made himself comfortable next to you. He let out a small sigh, doubting he’d be able to sleep like this despite his relaxation. He wanted to protect you for as long as he could. He stared at you, probably a little more than he should. Saiki couldn’t help it, his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. You looked like you belonged in his arms, or so he thought. He was having a hard time processing his happiness at your figure in his arms. It had always been you, he was well aware of that now. 

“You still awake?” he asked, going back to his telepathic communication. You mumbled a small yes, prompting him to continue talking. “Thank you,” he started, “for asking me to sit with you at lunch that one day. For coming back to me.”

You let out a tired giggle, “You missed me.”

“I did.” He felt you tense when you said that as if you were shocked to hear it. That didn’t surprise him, he had his doubts you were told you were cared about enough, especially in your last relationship.

Looking down at you once again, he realized you’d fallen asleep. A smile grew on his lips as he made a silent promise to show you what real love feels like. He’d cherish you to the moon and back. It’s what you deserve and he was going to give it to you.

[silverstarsheep]

Oh man, it’s a fic for the “Coffee Shop AU,” which is lead by @doodledrawsthings​.

I started this really early on and wrestled with it a lot, so things changed and shifted a bit since I started writing it. Looking at the new stuff vs. old, I’m surprised what details I got accurate, and not at all surprised at what I got wrong. Quite a lot of it is super super SUPER inaccurate, sorry.

This is more or less my take on Luka’s transformation, so... Take it for what you will, haha.

I also finished it a while back, but never had the guts to actually post it for one reason or another--I may as well post it anyway, since it’s gotten this far.

Word count: 6,749

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

Luka nearly flew out of the restaurant and into the cooler-than-normal evening air, stumbling down a few of the steps leading to the door. The sound of rain could be heard all around him--it hadn’t let up since he arrived. Standing underneath the awning with his umbrella cradled in the crook of his right arm, he stuffed both hands into his pockets, puffing out a frustrated sigh. His face was burning hot, and his chest was tight with indignation.

He should have known that a call to “make amends” from Vanessa was going to be a big, fat lie. Luka’s brow creased, and he stared at the damp pavement beneath the bottom step, silently wondering why he had ever thought that such would have been the case. During the legal battles of divorce and custody, that vile woman more than demonstrated her ice-cold and vitriolic feelings towards him.

Maybe, deep down, he still felt something for her... And he did truly want to make amends. Too bad the same wasn’t true for Vanessa.

Popping his umbrella open, he finally trotted down the rest of the stairs and to the sidewalk. It was about time that he went home, but along the way he needed to pick up little Harriet from her friend’s house. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind walking in the rain, but somehow he doubted she would.

As he turned the corner, he couldn’t help but shiver. Frown creasing his features further, he thought to himself, “Wasn’t it supposed to be in the 70′s tonight?” If only he had worn a thicker sweater... If it got any colder, he would have been able to see his breath!

To make matters worse, in the corner of his eye Luka could make out little white dots bouncing around on the ground. Pace slowing a bit, it wasn’t long before he was hearing heavier objects hitting his umbrella. Hail?! For pity’s sake, can’t he catch a break for just a second? Holding the umbrella tight, he started to run down the sidewalk, having to skid to a halt when he realized that he had nearly overshot his friend’s house.

Bounding up the porch, he knocked on the door, drumming his fingers against the umbrella’s handle. The door opened, however instead of being met with her caregiver, he was instead met with the very small, curly-haired Bonnie. She stared up at him with her big, purple eyes for a moment, then gave him a toothy grin.

“Hi!” she chirped. She looked over her shoulder, “Ms. Tina! Mr. Luka is here!”

“Tell him to come in, please!” he could hear a woman’s voice call from inside. Tina must have been making dinner.

The smell of steamed vegetables hit his senses in just the right way, causing his stomach to growl a little. However as he took in a deep breath, Luka’s throat felt rather sore. Not wanting to assume the worst, he simply brushed it off as him having raised his voice a bit too much when he spoke with Vanessa. The conversation did get quite heated, after all--but with Vanessa, one could say that she was always chilling.

Bonnie motioned for him to come inside as she skipped into the living room herself. The home was comfortably warm, a welcome change from the cold, wet outside. She flopped back onto the floor right next to Harriet, who was lying on her stomach and holding a purple crayon in a crab-like vice grip. She looked up and smiled.

“Oh, hi, dad!” she kicked her legs up into the air and drew both arms to her chest, “Did it go okay with mom...?”

“Hey, kiddo.” Luka replied with a sigh. He didn’t reply at first, trying to think over his response. Standing in the door frame he shook his folded umbrella off over the porch, then placed it inside beside the door. He could feel Harriet’s eyes piercing into him.

“Sorry to say, it didn’t go so well,” he finally stated, his shoulders slumping significantly. His daughter was young, but he knew she was smart. There was no sense hiding it, but the look of disappointment on her face made him feel regret tweak at his heart.

Bonnie spoke up, “She didn’t use any of her,” the girl wiggled her fingers in a “mysterious” fashion, “Eeevil magic on you, did she?”

Blinking, Luka couldn’t help but smirk, “Oh, no... She didn’t!” he grinned, “But if she did,” he grabbed his umbrella and brandished it like a sword, droplets of water scattering about, “I would’ve fought her off!”

When the two girls giggled at his display, Luka relaxed a bit. For Harriet, laughter was a powerful tool in these harsh times. First and foremost, making her happy and keeping her healthy was his biggest goal.

Just as he set the umbrella back down, Bonnie’s caregiver, Tina, stepped into the living room. She gave Luka a warm smile, “Hey! It sure sounds like it’s coming down out there, did you manage to stay dry?”

“I’m mostly dry, but it started hailing on the way here!”

Tina blinked, her dark brown eyes wide, “Hail?” she asked in a doubtful tone, “This time of year?” she made way towards the still open door and peered through it. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, “Wow! Isn’t that something...” she squared her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips, “Well, I can’t let you walk home in that...”

“It surprised me, too,” Luka huffed, rubbing the back of his neck, “Would it be too much to wait it out here?”

“Not a problem at all!” she flashed Luka a bright smile, “I can add some more to the dinner if you’d like to stay! Once Honey gets here, we can have a nice, big meal!”

Closing the door, Luka shot a glance to his daughter, “What do you think?” he asked, having to clear his throat, “Wanna eat dinner here?” his throat was starting to feel worse. Was he suddenly coming down with a cold, or something?

The girl threw both arms into the air, nearly tossing her crayon in the process, “Yeah!! Ms. Tina’s food is the best!”

Tina laughed in a merry way, then started for the kitchen once more. She muttered quietly to herself as she thought about how many more vegetables to steam, how many patties to fry... However she stopped in her tracks when Luka gently flagged her down.

“Need any help?” he asked. There was a sudden weight on his shoulders, as if someone had put a thick blanket over him. Despite this, he didn’t want to impose on such a good friend, especially after she had so kindly watched his daughter!

The woman smiled brightly and gave a wave of her hand, “Oh no! It’s a real simple meal tonight, but it’ll be delicious all the same,” she motioned to the couch, “Why don’t you watch the girls? That’d be a mighty help.”

“S-sure,” he replied, clearing his throat again, “But can I,” he cleared his throat again, this time ending with a small coughing fit, “Mmh, can I get a glass of water?”

Concern creasing her brow, Tina replied, “Well sure... Are you alright?”

With slow and careful movements, Luka took a seat, “Hm... All of the sudden, I’m not...” he rubbed at his face, it was burning hot, “I’m not feeling so great...”

“Dad, your face is all red!” Harriet remarked in shock.

“Goodness, she’s right!” Tina leaned over him, gently placing her hands on his arm and back, “Maybe you should go home and rest up!”

Brow creasing, Luka rubbed his forehead with the base of his palm. He took a moment to answer, but eventually nodded. Going home would be best... If he was getting sick, he didn’t want to risk making anyone else ill.

“Okay, Bonnie,” Tina said with a clap of her hands, “Get your shoes on.” when Bonnie rushed to her room to grab a pair of socks, Tina turned back to Luka, “Don’t you worry, I’ll drive you over. It’s not far, but I don’t think you’re in any condition to walk there, especially in hail.”

Luka merely nodded in agreement, however he looked to Harriet, “Hey, kiddo... You wanna spend the night here...?”

She shook her head briskly, her ponytail slapping the side of her face, “No! I need to make sure you’re okay, dad!” she said firmly. She went to the door to grab her shoes. Well, looks like that was settled...

Once Bonnie and Harriet had gotten their shoes on, the four of them piled into Tina’s mini van, and were off.

Trying to keep himself awake, Luka attempted to make small talk, “So... How’s it been fostering Bonnie?” he asked.

Tina smiled, “It’s been going wonderfully, but...” she sighed as they reached a stop sign, “We’re nearing the end of the 13 month care...”

Luka gripped his seat belt with both hands, “Have you and Honey... Considered adopting her?” he asked in a hopeful tone

Smile faltering, Tina seemed to hesitate before easing on the brakes, “Yes, but... Getting the paperwork cleared has been a struggle. Honey and I haven’t had any luck...”

“Ah, sorry... Maybe I can help you clear things up a bit?” Luka offered. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

“I’d appreciate that, and I’m sure Bonnie would, too!” Tina chimed with a toothy grin, “You need to put all that law studying to good use, huh?”

With the vehicle thoroughly pelted with hail, and a couple blocks later, they pulled into Luka’s drive. The father-daughter pair said their goodbyes and quickly retreated inside, however the hail was finally starting to subside. Now that they were home, it was time to get Harriet some supper.

Frankly, he wasn’t feeling very hungry himself, but one way or another he had to make sure that his daughter ate. He shambled into the kitchen and pried open the fridge--the seal was oddly tighter than usual--where he produced a frozen kid’s meal. Harriet stood in the door frame, watching him with worry in her eyes. She wrung her little hands nervously.

“Dad, I can make it myself!” she urged. She knew how to use the microwave...! It was just a little hard to know how many zeros to put on it when cooking something, and she often forgot to stir it halfway through... But she didn’t mind eating it a little cold! Honest!

Luka pulled a knife from the drawer and started poking holes into the film. He glanced over his shoulder with a weak smile, “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” he said with a low voice. Using his head, he motioned for her to go to the bathroom, “Why don’t you kick off your shoes and wash your hands?”

Hesitating, Harriet bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to leave her dad alone... But if she was quick about it, then it wouldn’t be a problem! Maybe she could even grab her stool from the bathroom so she could reach the microwave buttons, and kitchen sink. Then she could make her dad a meal, too! The girl rushed deeper into the house without another word.

In the bathroom, Harriet made quick work of washing her hands, knocking over the soap bottle in the process of dispensing some of the foam onto her hands. She’d pick it up later! As she rushed to rinse her hands, she noticed her dear owl plush, Professor Popcorn, sitting by the sink. She had to rinse off his dear little beak this morning, and she must have left him there when she heard she was going to visit Bonnie.

Wringing her hands dry on a towel, she picked him up carefully, “Professor!” she cried, “Dad’s feeling sick, what do we do?”

She tried to imitate the voice her father would use when speaking for the owl by making her voice sound deeper, “Hm, I say that a hot bowl of soup will fix him right up!” she waved the plush around gently to make it look like he was talking.

“You’re right, Professor Popcorn!” Harriet confirmed with a nod, “Dad loves chicken soup, and we got a can of it! I can heat it up in the microwave!”

“I’ll help you read the instructions!” she had the professor conclude, manipulating his wing to adjust his glasses.

Meanwhile, Luka’s time was starting to get harder. His vision was getting hazy, his head was spinning, and his entire body felt sore. Dark splotches obscured his vision, and it almost looked as though his own arms were starting to turn dark.

Rubbing at his forehead with his knuckles, there was a loud clatter as the knife tumbled out of his hands and fell to the floor. Thankfully it didn’t land anywhere near his foot, however it was curious; he had a tight grip on that between his finger and thumb.

Pain snaked its way through his body as he leaned over to pick it up, causing him to grit his teeth and close his eyes tightly. He froze in place, one hand pressed against the counter top as one reached for the ground. Sweat began to pour from his brow in droves, drip, drip dripping onto his arm and the floor. At that point he had dared to open his eyes, and his stomach did a back-flip when he saw the state of his hand.

It... Wasn’t his hand anymore, or at least, it didn’t look like his hand. It had been replaced with a paw-like two-fingered hand that was a deep shade of purple. Said purple was slithering up his arm with snake-like tendrils. Losing his grip on the counter, Luka only managed to gasp as he fell roughly onto his knees. He looked to his right hand, which was much the same--thumbless and purple. No wonder he had dropped the knife! The purple substance had reached well past his elbow there.

The lights above flickered as fear struck his heart. With clumsy movements he tried to manipulate his new “hands” to try and scrape and push the purple stuff off of him, but all that succeeded in was sending droplets of purple onto the tiled floor. His arms remained unchanged, and the color only seemed to pick up the pace as it soon reached his shoulder and crept up his neck.

Bowling over as pain overtook him, Luka wrapped both arms around his stomach and pressed his forehead against the now-damp floor. His jaw was locked open, his eyes were as wide as saucers, and his vision was filled with a golden light as tears streamed from them.

Fabric ripped and shredded as his form shifted and grew. The lights buzzed as they flickered wildly. A mane sprouted from his neck, ripping and tearing his shirt further. It didn’t take long for his entire body to be shrouded in the purple tone. Finally, when his legs began to twist together, Luka let out a scream.

The kitchen lights burst. The house was shrouded in darkness.

When the lights began to flicker, Harriet clutched Professor Popcorn close to her chest, gasping in fear. She hated it when the power went out! She closed her eyes as the lights buzzed.

“D-dad?!” she cried. That was when she heard his scream, and her heart fluttered. She yelped when the lights went out, and without thinking about it she jumped from her stool and rushed into the hallway. However her pace slowed, her hand gently guiding her along the hall when she heard an inhuman panting from in the kitchen.

It sounded like there was some kind of monster in there... But monsters weren’t real, right? Dad always told her that she had nothing to be afraid of under her bed or in her closet... So the only thing that should be in the kitchen was her dad....

Right?

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and every fiber in her body was telling her to run away, to hide under her bed until the power came on, or her dad coaxed her out... But despite her wanting to scream at her legs to stop, they carried her all the way to the kitchen door.

The house was dark, but there was just enough light for Harriet to see. In the kitchen, however, it was as if something had absorbed all of the light. It was pitch black, and she couldn’t make anything out--even the window had turned black.

Harriet fought back her tears. She was so frightened that she could barely speak, but she just had to make sure her father was ok. She finally managed to speak up again with a squeak, “Dad...?”

Something in the darkness moved. She could hear it shuffling about. Slithering around like a giant snake. Her grip around her plush tightened, and her heart nearly sprung into her mouth. A set of bright, golden eyes appeared in the darkness, illuminating a bit of the kitchen with yellow light. She could just make out the shape of the eye’s owner--big and purple, with a scruffy-looking mane. It had a long, long body, and two arms that propped it up.

Around it were scraps of clothes and little puddles of a dark liquid. In the dim light she couldn’t tell what color those were, but her imagination quickly filled in the blanks--blood.

It was blood. It was her father’s blood. Whatever monster this was had ripped her dad to ribbons and ate him, leaving nothing but his shredded clothing behind.

Harriet’s mouth dropped open, but nothing escaped her throat but air. Tears were streaming from her eyes. The monster opened its own mouth, revealing its wicked, sharp fangs. More golden light spilled out into the kitchen from the beast’s maw. Its breathing was raspy. It shuffled about and moved its mouth as if trying to speak.

“Ha... Harri....” it croaked. It almost sounded like her father. Chills washed through the girl’s tiny body, and her hairs stood on end, “Ha.. rriet...” oh peck, it knew her name!

It reached out to her with inhuman fingers. Frozen in place, Harriet hadn’t a single clue what to do. Her legs continued to refuse to listen to her--now that she wanted to move, they were suddenly cemented to the carpet. She whimpered pathetically.

Hot fingers brushed against her cheek, the tips of claws gently caressing her face. Harriet inhaled. Then she shrieked. As loud as she could she screamed bloody murder, and the monster shrank back in shock. Her legs finally listened to her, and she bolted for the door, which she flung open and didn’t think to close behind her.

“W... Wai... Wait!!” the monster called. But it fell on deaf ears.

Not only did Luka’s body ache, but his heart did, too. He never wanted to frighten his daughter, he never wanted to make her feel unsafe or in danger. But now, it almost seemed as though he had no choice. Whatever form he had taken on mortified the poor child, and now she was running into the late evening streets, completely unprotected.

He had to go after her. He had to make sure she was safe, and he had to let her know that her dad was still here, despite not looking the same anymore. He attempted to push himself upright, however he quickly realized that he no longer had legs. When they had twisted together in such a painful manner, they had fused together to make one long tail. There was no way he could chase after her like this!

He’d just have to drag himself, then. With his arms he began to haul himself past the tile, over the carpet, and through the door. As he lowered himself off of the porch, he realized that his body was remarkably light. He had no issue dragging himself across the ground, and now that he was on the stairs, he felt as though he were...

Floating?! He could float? There wasn’t any time to question it... He’d just have to take it as a blessing in disguise and hope that he could use it to his advantage. He pushed himself off of the ground, and much to his surprise, he remained in the air. Twisting his body this way and that like a snake, he quickly found that this mode of transportation was much faster than crawling around like a newborn. As he got the hang of it, he could pick up the pace.

Man, he hoped no one would see him like this...

Rounding the corner, Luka looked this way and that until he caught a glimpse of Harriet, who was bolting down the sidewalk towards the park. He gasped, “Harriet!” his voice boomed. It echoed and carried throughout the subdivision, causing a few dogs to start barking in shock. Even Harriet was surprised, and she tripped over her own feet and smacked into the pavement.

Luka clapped a hand over his mouth. Goodness, did his voice carry! He was sure to be seen now. Before he could catch up to her, his daughter had picked herself up and was running with new strength across the road to the park. Her beloved owl doll lay limp on the cracked pavement.

“W-wait, please, wait!” Luka called, pathetically trying to moderate his voice, “Hatty, please!” he hoped that the fond nickname would cause her to pause, but she kept on running. If he could have seen her face, he would have noted that her eyes were screwed shut. Thank goodness no cars were coming...

Making haste to pick up the doll, Luka was hot on Harriet’s tail. He could hear a few people poking out of their houses nearby, which only made him speed up. He quickly hopped over the brick wall and started his search for Harriet, looking in, around and under anything that she could have been inside of.

Finally, he found her huddled in the corner of one wall, concealed by a bush coated in flowers. She was shaking like a leaf and trying her hardest to hold back terrified sobs. Coiling himself inside the bush, he hoped that it would be enough to hide himself as he tried to console his daughter.

“Harriet?” he cooed. His voice was still too loud, even as he tried to whisper. It didn’t sound right, “Harriet, it’s me--it’s...”

She pushed herself further into the corner, turning her head towards the wall. She sobbed quietly, and Luka’s lower lip trembled.

“Sweetheart, please--please don’t be...”

This time Harriet sobbed louder, hiccuping into her knees. Luka shrank back a little looking at his empty hand. Could he really console her like this? When he looked and sounded like a monster? He then looked to the plush he held in his right hand. Professor Popcorn... Maybe this could help.

Holding the owl out, Luka tried to hide his face behind the plush as he put on the special voice he always used for the dear old professor, “H-hey there, kiddo! It’s me, Professor Popcorn!” the owl waved his little wing, and Harriet lifted her head. Luka dared to crack a weak smile, “I know things are really scary right now... But I just want ya to know that everything’s gonna be O-KAY!”

Harriet turned, staring intently at the doll. The way he moved, the way he spoke... It was exactly like how her dad would talk when they played together. Sure, his voice sounded a little... Scary, but the tone, the inflections... They were all the same.

“And that I love you...” Luka’s voice started to seep into Professor Popcorn’s, “Very, very much...”

Harriet dared to look up. Through the branches and leaves she could make out the monster’s face, his eyes glowing faintly. As he took on a gentle expression and leaned forward, she could almost see her father’s face in its features...

“... Y-you... Dropped him while you were running...” Luka continued, “I know how much you hate it when his beak gets dirty.”

Tears were spilling from her eyes again, and she shuffled about anxiously. Was it? Could it be?! Her eyes darted up and down his body, doubts still sprouting in her mind. But all the same, she wanted to believe it. She wanted it to be true, because it was an awful lot better than her dad being gone.

“Da... aad??” she hiccuped. Luka smiled weakly and nodded. With a loud sob she jumped into his arms, pressing her face into his scruffy-looking purple mane, which was surprisingly soft. She buried her nose into it, drinking in his smell. He looked different, he sounded different, but now she knew, this was her dad.

Wrapping his hands around her tiny frame, he gently rubbed the back of her head, whispering into her ear, “Shhh... It’s okay, it’s okay...” he took in a shaky breath, “I’m still here, dad’s still here...”

Harriet continued to sob. She must have been so frightened. Guilt stung at his chest, knowing that he was the cause of her terror... However he nearly jumped when she started to spurt out apologies. He backed away, his brow creased.

“What are you apologizing for?”

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Harriet hiccuped again and sniffled, “I... I thought you were a m-monster,” she replied, “An... And you ate my dad... I ha-hated you for a little bit...”

Carefully cradling her shoulders in his hands, Luka shook his head, “No no, you have nothing to be sorry for, Hatty. I... I’d be scared, too.” with one finger he wiped away a tear, “But you know, you’re very brave,” he added, “You looked me in the face now, and realized I wasn’t a monster.”

A little smile appeared on Harriet’s lips as she continued to sniffle, “E-even if you look like a monster,” she whispered, “I... I still love you, dad.”

Scooping up into his arms, Luka gave his daughter a tight squeeze. There was some relief that washed over him, knowing that his daughter still loved him despite all of this, however worry had started to snake its way into his mind. How was he going to care for her when he looked like this? He hadn’t even seen his own reflection yet, but considering how Harriet reacted, he wouldn’t be able to even face his best of friends...

Suddenly, there was a jab at his lower end, as if someone had prodded him with a stick. Crap, he had been seen! Tensing up, the length of his body coiled tighter as he held Harriet closer to his chest, protecting her from sight and harm with his torso. He must not have concealed himself enough. Curse this snake-like body!

“A-alright!” a man’s voice demanded, “Come out, y-you... Beast!”

Luka’s body went cold. What was he to do now?! Fear had pooled in Harriet’s eyes once again, and she clung to his mane as tightly as she could. He could feel her little body trembling.

“Come out or I’ll shoot!”

He realized he didn’t have a choice. He popped out from the bush, scattering leaves and flower petals everywhere. A group of ten or eleven adults had gathered, a few of them with children who were cowering behind their legs and clinging to their pant legs. The group gasped audibly, backing away as they erupted into distress.

“Oh gosh, it’s got a kid!” one shrieked. This caused a few screams within the group, and Harriet to try and hide.

“SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE!”

“No, get animal control!”

“Roger, just SHOOT the thing, already!!”

The man in front, who was holding a hunter’s gun, was quite literally shaking in his boots. He aimed his weapon, but his moment of hesitation gave Luka enough time to react. He wanted a distraction, a diversion of some kind, and when he screwed his eyes shut he somehow willed it to be. The area was suddenly plunged into darkness as if the sun had been blotted out. Both his daughter and the group screamed, but it was more than enough of a distraction as he leaped over the brick wall and flew off in search of a proper hiding spot.

The two emerged from the darkness as if it were a bubble. Blinking rapidly, Harriet peered over her father’s shoulder, finding it curious that the darkness was in such a concentrated area.

“D-did you do that?” she squeaked.

Glancing over his shoulder, Luka was equally surprised at what he had done. Frankly, he didn’t want to even think about it, “I-I guess so...” he replied. He dreaded the idea that powers came with this monstrous form, but as he lifted them above the treetops in hopes that they’d look like a bird or lost kite, he realized that his say didn’t matter.

Harriet continued to grip his mane for security, her eyes drifting to the land below, “Uh... We’re getting kinda high...”

“Sorry, I don’t want them to catch us,” he glanced at his daughter, “Is it too high?” he tightened his arms around her.

“N-no... I kinda like it.” she admitted. She fell silent for a few moments more, watching the city go by beneath them. She eventually asked, “Where are we going?”

Luka bit his lower lip, “Not sure... Somewhere to hide until the neighborhood calms down.”

“Um... Why not that old movie theater they closed down?” she suggested, “That should be big enough.”

“That sounds good.” Luka whispered in reply. It’d have to do for now, seeing he could sneak in through one of the doors. Or at the very least, they alleyway would suffice as a hiding place.

Locating the old movie theater, Luka had to squeeeeeze his way into the alleyway, between the brick walls. Was it just him, or had he gotten larger? He felt so big and obvious already! There was no way he’d be able to fit inside the theater like this, so he just hoped no one would be coming into the alleyway, especially this late.

He lowered Harriet to the ground, “We’ll stay here for a while...” he whispered.

“Dad, we’ve gotta get some help!” Harriet cried, however she tried keeping her voice down, “We need to find someone who can turn you back to normal!”

Luka’s tail twisted itself into knots, and his expression turned dour, “I don’t know anyone that can fix this,” he sighed, looking at his hands, “And going out now, with everyone in a tizzy about a monster... That’d be asking for trouble.”

“What about Ms. Tina and Honey?” Harriet persisted, “They might be able to help! They’ve got a real big basement you can hide in!” she threw her arms in the air to demonstrate.

“Harriet...” he placed a paw on the top of her head, “... No, I’m sorry. I need to lay low for a while. At least let things calm down. It’s hard telling if anyone would believe me.”

“Bonnie would...” she pouted in reply.

Heaving a sigh Luka paused to think, placing his free hand to where his chin would have normally been. If he was going to be laying low for a time, he couldn’t keep Harriet with him, now could he?

If anyone found out that he was a monster, there would be no chance of him being able to keep Harriet’s custody. After such a long and difficult battle, that made his stomach churn. The idea of Harriet falling into foster care, or even worse, falling into the custody of Vanessa, made his stomach do back flips. What was the best option here? His expression grew grim, a frown etching itself deeper and deeper into his dark features.

“You okay, dad?”

“Hey,” he spoke up, “Why don’t I drop you off at Tina’s house? She and Honey can take care of you for a while.” he paused, “Until I can get this all sorted.”

“What?!” the girl exclaimed, her eyes widening, “No! No way!” she pushed her father’s paw off her head and pressed her hands against his chest, “I’m staying with you!”

“Harriet--”

“I don’t want to leave you!” her fingers wrapped around his fur, “And, and--you’d be lonely without me!” tears welled in her big blue eyes again, “You need someone to scout for you, to see if there are people around! What if something happened, and I never saw you again?!” the tears spilled over her cheeks and down her chin.

“Hey, hey...” Luka cooed, placing his all-too-massive paws on her shoulders, “Okay... Okay, you can stay with me...” he hoped that he wouldn’t regret that decision.

Smiling, Harriet wiped her tears away, “Mean it?”

“Yeah.” Luka nodded, “I mean it.”

Lying on the ground, Luka allowed Harriet to climb into his crossed arms. They remained silent for a time as he waited for enough time to pass. He wondered if anyone would be checking out their house. He certainly hoped not, but he could imagine that most of his neighbors would recognize Harriet as the “hat kid from down the street” without much problem. He sighed.

Harriet’s stomach growled, “Dad,” she gently tugged at a tuft of fur, “I’m hungry.”

Lifting his head, Luka frowned. Shoot, he didn’t finish making her that frozen meal, did he? And he didn’t have his wallet, either, “Ah, sorry kiddo... You’ll have to wait a couple more minutes before we can try to go home.”

“Hm...” her little face scrunched up in thought, “Oh, I know! There’s a restaurant nearby, I think! I can dig out some food from the trash!” before her father could object, she jumped out of his arms and ran off.

With a quick motion, Luka grabbed her by the back of her shirt and lifted her in the air, “Oooh, no you don’t, kiddo!” she squirmed a little but quickly gave up, “I’m not letting you get a stomach bug, or eat a rat or something.” he couldn’t help but chuckle.

Folding her arms over her chest, Harriet pouted, “Aw... What if I wanted to eat a rat?”

Lifting himself into the air, he plopped her back into his arms, “Well, you’re not gonna.” he glanced to the sky, which had gone completely dark, “It ought to be late enough for everyone to go back home...” . At least he’d be able to hide fairly well in the dark of the night.

There were a number of police cars around the neighborhood. Luka’s body had gone cold again, not wanting to think about what would happen if one of them spotted him. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, and then slid across the subdivision, keeping low to the ground and hiding in any shadows he could find. He crawled over fences, through backyards, and around houses until they finally reached their destination.

Their house was still pitch dark. A few police cars had just pulled away from the front--had they investigated the home? Luka chewed on his cheek, hoping that they had gotten everything they needed by now and were all gone.

“Dad,” Harriet whispered, “There are people in the front, how will we get in?”

Eyes drifting along the back wall, he decided that they’d just have to break in. How odd was that? Breaking into your own house... Well, it had to be done. Hovering to the windows, he attempted to peer inside of one, however his glowing eyes were all that reflected back at him. He scoffed in disgust.

“You ok?” Harriet asked.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” he asked. When she nodded, he held her up to the window, “Take a look inside, and let me know if you see anyone.”

Cupping her hands around her eyes, Harriet looked through the window with a scrutinizing stare, “All clear!” she said. The pair repeated this process a few more times until they eventually concluded that the house was empty. What a relief!

“Okay, hold onto me,” Luka said. Once Harriet’s arms were wrapped around him, he located her room’s window, and pried his fingers underneath the frame. It took a bit of work, but he eventually managed to pry it open with a loud grunt, “Okay, go inside, and get your clothes.”

Harriet frowned, “We can’t say here anymore...?”

Drooping a bit, Luka shook his head, “Sorry... We can’t. Not with everyone suspicious of it, now.”

Despite her feelings, she complied and crawled through the window. As she went to find her suitcase, she turned to the window, “Can you help me...?” she asked.

Narrowing his eyes, Luka wasn’t sure he’d fit in her room, let alone through the window. But, he’d give it a shot. Pressing his head through the window, he found it to be quite the tight squeeze, but after a few attempts, he managed to get inside, knocking over a lamp in the process. The bulb shattered upon impact with the ground.

“Oh!” Harriet cried. Realizing she rose her voice a bit too much, she shrank back a little and lowered her voice, “Did you get smaller?” she asked. It wasn’t a significant change by any means--he was still massive--but he fit in her little room better than he did the alleyway.

“I don’t know,” Luka shrugged with a furrowed brow. Picking the lamp off the ground, he didn’t really know what to make of this. But there was no time to dwell on it! They had clothes and food to pack!

Harriet passed her favorite outfits over to her father, who carefully folded them into a purple-colored suitcase. A tight fit, but Harriet managed to find space for a few toys by cramming them in the pockets. They grabbed her back pack, dumping Harriet’s kindergarten books unceremoniously onto the floor. With a larger duffel bag in tow, the pair went into the kitchen to pack more supplies.

Harriet’s bag was filled with the lighter supplies--money, bandages, Luka’s phone, a lighter, and a number of other necessities. As he took a few items, such as bandages, from the bathroom, that was when he finally got a good look at himself in the mirror. He stared at his reflection blankly at first, then his expression twisted into one of disgust. He turned away, not wanting to look at it any longer.

Back in the kitchen, the duffel bag was filled with whatever non-perishable foods Luka could find, as well as a pot or two. He double-checked everything in the bags, then slung the duffel over what shoulders he had. He had to tighten the strap to make sure it stayed in place.

Luka couldn’t think of anything else to pack, especially anything that wouldn’t weigh them down too much. He was certain that he’d think of more on their way out of the city, but at this point it was best to just get the both of them to someplace safe.

With everything in tow, Luka scooped Harriet into his arms, and slipped into the night, his sleek purple body blending perfectly in the dark. As he rose into the air, he ran a few options in his head; where they could hide, where they could find shelter, where they could get food... It was going to be terribly difficult for his little daughter, and he so desperately wished that he could have simply left her with a trusted friend instead.

Harriet spoke up when they were high enough to soar over buildings, pulling him from his thoughts, “Hey... Dad?”

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“... Do you think mom was the one that did this to you?”

Luka fell silent, his tail jerking a bit. It was odd; until now, that hadn’t even crossed his mind. But as his stomach churned, he could only conclude that it was true. The drink Vanessa offered him, the sick feeling he got after leaving the restaurant, the horrific transformation. It all added up. Narrowing his eyes, he frowned deeply.

Five years later, Vanessa was just as petty as when Harriet was born.

“You know, I think you’re right.” he finally sighed, “Somehow I don’t think she’d be very willing to reverse it. For now, let’s just... Get somewhere safe.”

A pang of guilt flashed in Harriet’s eyes as she gently placed her hand against her father’s chest. She slowly nodded in reply, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

Solemnly and in silence, the pair flew to the horizon, uncertainty following them like a storm cloud.

[nonbinary-octopus]

Virgil the Wee Vampire  Chapter 14: Negotiations 

Summary: Terms are discussed and a deal is made.

Warnings/Contains: blood, vomit

Wordcount: 2.7 K

Chapter 1: The Hungry Little Vampire

Masterpost

More stories

~~~

That night, as they flew together, and found some unsuspecting livestock to feed from and a space just big enough for two bats to shelter from the sun, Virgil and Thomas filled each other in on the events that had happened since they’d last seen each other in their cave days ago, and they mourned their family together.

They also discussed what they wanted to do next. By the time the sun rose, they had a tentative plan. The brothers fell asleep wrapped in each other’s wings, feeling more secure than they had in a long time. They slept soundly all through the day, and after the sun had set again, they returned to the house where Virgil’s humans lived.

They went to the window that Patton had opened for them; it was still open, and after Virgil peeked quickly inside to be sure they weren’t about to fly in on a human using the room, they entered.

“Where do you think we’ll find them?” Thomas asked as they flew through the hallway.

“I dunno,” Virgil said. He peeked into one of the sleeping rooms, but the door was angled so that he could only see a portion of it, and that portion was unoccupied. “I was only with them for a few days, but they seemed to gather in all the rooms equally.” He gave the whistle-click equivalent of a shrug. “We’ll start in the two big rooms, and if not, then we’ll come back here and I’ll call at the opening to each sleeping room until someone answers.”

They didn’t have to do that, however. When they reached the first of the two large rooms, they found all three humans. Logan sat on one of the cloth structures, gazing at a bundle of papers. Roman sat on the other, in a much more curled position. He too was looking at some paper, but unlike Logan, he was actively making marks on it. Patton lay on the floor, hands tucked under his head, with his eyes closed.

None of the humans seemed to have noticed them yet. The two bats circled near the ceiling a few times, trying to decide how to get the humans’ attention. Ordinarily, they tried to avoid doing so, so they weren’t sure what to do. Finally, Virgil flew down, shifting as he landed near Roman’s shoulder. “Hello,” he said.

Several things happened in rapid succession. Firstly, Roman made a loud, abrupt sound, his entire body jolting. Virgil, startled, fell off the back of the cloth thing, barely managing to shift in time to glide to a gentle landing. He couldn’t see the other humans’ reactions to Roman’s noise from his new position, but Thomas could. Logan lowered his bundle of papers, and Patton sat up. They both looked over at Roman.

“You okay?”

“Uh,” Roman said, twisting around to look at the spot where Virgil had stood. “Y-yeah.” He kept looking around the room with a confused expression on his face, but failed to look up. “Did you guys hear that?”

“You yelping?” Patton teased.

“No!” Roman protested. “The reason. It sounded like—” He finally leaned over the back of his seat, looking down. “Ah! Hi, Virgil. You startled me.”

Virgil waved a wing up at him, chirping a greeting in return despite knowing that Roman wouldn’t even be able to hear it, let alone understand it.

“Virgil’s back?” Patton asked, delighted.

Logan glanced up to the ceiling. “Looks like they both are,” he added.

Roman paused, looking over to Logan, then following his gaze up to where Thomas still circled near the ceiling. He looked down at Virgil again. “You are Virgil, right? Sorry, I… I can’t really tell you apart as bats.”

Virgil laughed and flew back up to the top of the cloth thing. He landed a little further from Roman this time, shifting again. “Yes, hi,” he greeted.

“It’s good to see you both again,” Logan said. Patton, grinning, nodded.

Looking up at his little brother, Virgil clicked a few words of encouragement. Thomas dove down, landing close beside Virgil and shifting. He stood beside and slightly behind Virgil, holding lightly onto his sleeve near the elbow.

Virgil drew himself up to his full height, looking directly at each human in turn. They, seeming to realize the importance of the situation, all sat quietly and waited. “When you said I could live with you if I wanted,” Virgil said slowly. “Does that include Thomas too?”

“Of course,” Logan answered without hesitation.

“We wouldn’t want to break up a family!” Patton added.

Roman nodded agreement.

Virgil nodded back at them. “Good,” he said. “In that case, we’re here to discuss the terms of that agreement.”

“Neat,” Roman said.

“Do you mind if I get something to write it down?” Logan asked. “For future reference.”

Virgil glanced at Thomas, who still looked nervous, but not more so than before. He nodded. Setting his bundle of papers down, Logan got up, moving slowly around the edge of the room to pick up a pad of paper and a pen. He returned to his previous seat.

“Ready.”

“First:” Virgil said, doing his best to keep his voice firm and level. He thought he did a decent job. “If we live in your house, we’re allowed to go out and come in whenever we want. There’s to be a window kept open for that purpose.”

Logan nodded, writing on his pad.

“Yeah, that’s a given,” Roman said.

“Ro, hush,” Patton chided. “It’s good to declare these sorts of things.”

Virgil took a deep breath. So far, so good. Logan stopped writing and looked up. Virgil took that as his cue to continue. “Similarly,” he said, “there’s to be a space for us to sleep, safe away from the sunlight, and you absolutely cannot move it into sunlight.”

“Also a given,” Roman said. “We’d be bad hosts if we put you in dangerous situations.”

Patton nodded sincerely. “None of us want to hurt you,” he promised. “Plus, Logan’s a doctor, so he’s specifically sworn to not hurt people. It’s called the Hippopotamus Oath.”

“Hippocratic,” Logan corrected. “But yes, among other things, it includes the clause to do no harm and would certainly forbid intentionally exposing you to sunlight.”

“That’s good,” said Virgil, who was feeling a bit confused but encouraged nonetheless. He continued with the next condition. “Next: you don’t tell any other humans that we’re here.”

“Why not?” Roman asked while Logan wrote. Patton gave him a stern look, and Roman lifted both his hands. Thomas flinched, ducking a little more behind Virgil’s shoulder, but Roman, looking in Patton’s direction, didn’t seem to notice. “Just curious. I’ll follow the rules, I just wanna know why.”

“Other humans are dangerous,” Virgil said. Roman looked a bit dubious. “The Slayer was a human.” Virgil was impressed that his voice didn’t tremble. Thomas’s grip on his sleeve tightened.

Roman’s eyes widened, then narrowed in a wince. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, no, that makes sense. Sorry.” After a pause, he added, “No telling other humans. Promise.”

Virgil nodded, relieved. He looked to Logan to check that he was ready. He was. “You don’t touch my brother. Not unless he says you can. No picking up or holding, and definitely no grabbing.”

“What about you?” Logan asked, writing.

Virgil paused. “Patton can touch me,” he said after a moment. “I’m still deciding about you and Roman.”

Roman chuckled. “That’s fair.”

“What else?” Logan asked.

Virgil exchanged a look with Thomas, who shook his head. “That’s it.”

The three humans looked at each other, and all nodded. “Sounds good to us,” Patton said.

“We have some terms too,” Logan added.

Ah. Now they would see what it was the humans expected to get out of this. Virgil met Logan’s gaze. “What?”

“First, we’re all willing to supply you with blood, but we ask that you not bite us without warning, and allow us to choose the location of the bite, to reduce the risk of serious injury.”

That was reasonable. Better than reasonable, actually. The humans didn’t need to offer them their blood. Virgil nodded.

“Uh, hang on, I didn’t write these down beforehand,” Logan said, quickly scribbling in his pad. “Okay. If you’re going to be staying with us long-term, I might actually get some equipment from the hospital to draw blood without a bite being necessary. There have been no ill effects from bites thus far, but it’s hard to say what might happen with frequent exposure to your saliva.”

Virgil hesitated. “Like when you cut your finger and squeezed it in a glass thing?” he asked.

Logan shrugged a bit. “Sort of. With the proper equipment, it’ll be safer and heal faster, but you can drink it out of whatever kind of container is most convenient for you.” He looked down at his pad again. “That kinda brings us to the next point I wanted to make. Patton is really squicked out by blood — it bothers him to see it. We’ll ask you to keep any blood out of his sight.”

“I’m okay with helping feed you,” Patton chimed in, though he did look uncomfortable with the topic. “I just don’t wanna see it.”

Logan looked down at his paper again. “I think that’s about it,” he said. “Unless you two have anything to add.”

“Ah,” Roman said awkwardly. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sneak up on me. I know it can’t always be helped, but, um. Maybe make some sound?”

Virgil exchanged an uncertain glance with Thomas. “We can try,” he said doubtfully. Bats were meant to fly silently, and it wasn’t like they could call out to Roman if they flew behind him.

Roman sighed. “I’ll take it.”

“Anything else?” Logan asked. Nobody said anything. “Alright. Let me just read these back, then. One: Virgil and Thomas are allowed to enter and exit the house whenever they like, and we won’t close their window.” He paused. “When it gets into the colder months, it would be less wise to leave a window open all the time, but by that point we may be able to install a cat flap. Er, a smaller door which you can open yourselves.” Logan hesitated again. “Actually, do you hibernate?”

“Hibernate?” Virgil repeated.

“A sort of long sleep during the winter, to conserve energy while it’s cold and food is scarce.”

Virgil hesitated, then nodded. “We sleep more when it’s cold.”

“Hm, alright.” Logan made a note of that, then continued. “Two: We are to supply a safe, secure location for Virgil and Thomas to sleep during the day, and under no conditions are to expose them to sunlight.” He glanced up for a moment, but nobody said anything, so he kept going. “Three: Virgil and Thomas are a secret not to be shared with other humans. Four: the humans are not to initiate physical contact with the vampires, with the exception of Patton with Virgil.”

“What’s a vampire?” Thomas whispered to Virgil.

Virgil shrugged a little. “Us.”

“It sounds made up.”

“Yep.”

Logan continued with his list. “Five: Roman, Patton, and myself will supply Virgil and Thomas with sufficient blood to keep them well-nourished and healthy; in exchange, Virgil and Thomas are to ask first before biting, only bite in pre-approved locations, and six: do their best to prevent Patton from seeing any spilled blood. Finally, seven: Virgil and Thomas are to attempt not to startle Roman, though we do accept the reality that you are very small and quiet and Roman is jumpy.” Logan lowered the pad. “Any objections?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Roman said, lifting his hand. “I’m not jumpy.”

“I could change it to ‘not difficult to startle,’ if you’d prefer,” Logan offered.

Roman pouted. “I guess.”

Logan made another note. “Besides that, any objections or additions?”

“Sounds good to me,” Patton said cheerfully.

Virgil looked to Thomas, who nodded. “Us too,” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Then we have a deal. I look forward to getting to know both of you better.”

“Are you hungry?” Patton asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil admitted.

“I believe it’s my turn to provide your meal,” Logan said, pulling the box of bandages from its spot under the short table, placing it on top instead. “Unless you’d be more comfortable with someone else for your first time, Thomas.”

Thomas ducked behind Virgil again. Virgil thought back on the other times he’d bit the humans. Patton had held him for all but the first, and that just wouldn’t do. They were not going to hold Thomas. “Do you want me to get some and share with you?” he offered softly.

Thomas nodded immediately, sagging with relief.

Virgil squeezed his hand encouragingly. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, and shifted. It only took a few moments for him to fly over to Logan, and he circled him once, trying to decide where to land. Logan lifted a hand, and Virgil dropped down, grabbing onto a finger with his feet to dangle beneath it.

“Alright,” said Logan, who had become very still. “I suppose that works.” He lifted his hand a little further, looking at Virgil. “Are you… do you want to eat in that position?”

Well, no. Not really. Virgil huffed and let go. He landed awkwardly in Logan’s lap. Shifting back to his wingless form, he untangled himself, stepping onto the pad Logan had been writing on. Logan sat very still, looking down at him. Virgil stood up as tall as he could, looking back up at him.

“Alright,” Logan said again. He brought his hand back down, placing it in front of Virgil. 

Virgil stepped forward. Then he paused. Crouching, he touched the white bandage wrapped around Logan’s littlest finger. “Is it healing? It smells funny.”

“It’s fine,” Logan assured him. “It just needs a few days more.”

Virgil frowned uncertainly, but he stood back up, putting his hands instead on Logan’s first finger. With one more glance up at the human, he leaned in, licking it. One more lick to be safe, and then he bit.

Virgil drank deeply, filling his stomach as full as he could. He was drinking for two, after all. It took longer than when he had fed before, and when he had finished and pulled away, Virgil had to take a moment to gather himself again. He sat on Logan’s notes, watching absently as the human cleaned and bandaged the injury.

When Logan had finished, he looked at Virgil again, then glanced at Thomas. Virgil got to his feet, feeling heavy. He shifted, taking awkwardly to the air. Unsteadily, Virgil flew to his brother, landing clumsily beside him. Thomas dropped to his knees as Virgil shifted back, grabbing onto his upper arms to steady him.

Virgil gladly accepted the support, leaning on Thomas to pull himself to his feet. Looking over his shoulder, Virgil saw that all three humans were watching them. “Patton,” Virgil said.

Patton perked up. “Yes?”

“Don’t look.”

Patton blinked in confusion for a moment, but then obediently covered his eyes. Virgil turned back to Thomas with a nod and began to regurgitate blood into his brother’s mouth.

“Ew, gross!” Roman exclaimed behind him. Thomas flinched slightly, but Virgil ignored the loud human.

Virgil gave Thomas a bit more than half the blood he’d drunk from Logan. They pulled apart, wiping their mouths. After Virgil had checked to be sure that there was no blood on either of their faces, he called, “Patton, you can look now.”

“Erm,” Logan said softly, drawing all eyes to him. “I understand Thomas wanting to keep his distance, of course, but may I offer a… a cleaner method next time?”

Virgil glanced down at the cloth under their feet. “We didn’t spill.”

“That’s good, but not what I meant.” Logan gave them a gentle smile. “Spitting up blood into each other’s mouths seems unhygienic to me. Not to mention that it prevents both of you from drinking your fill.”

“Thomas won’t have to touch you?” Virgil asked hesitantly.

“He will not,” Logan agreed. “Neither will you, if you don’t want to.”

Virgil exchanged a glance with Thomas, who just leaned tiredly into him. “Alright,” Virgil said. “We can try your idea next time.”

~~~~~

Chapter 15: IDK yet

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

The following clip contains mentions of mental illness and suicide attempt (near the end — when Lucas starts talking about his mother). Feel free to skip that section and message me for a brief description.

~^~

Friday, 19:41

Songs: Haux - Something To Remember; SG Lewis - Warm

Jens’s hands shake as he unlocks the door, nudging it open quietly with Lucas close at his back. He steps into the dark hallway and flicks on the light, dropping his keys on the small table as Lucas shuts the door behind them. Jens wills himself to relax, reminds himself that they’re alone as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook and allows Lucas to do the same.

“What did you say your parents are doing?”

“They’re having a date night for their anniversary, booked a hotel room. Lotte’s staying at her friend’s house.”

Lucas hums, tugs Jens around to face him and slides his arms around his waist. “So we’re alone, and you can chill.”

Jens drops his head onto his shoulder and nods, pressing a kiss to the crook of Lucas’s neck. He reaches behind himself to take Lucas’s hands and then leads him into the house. Jens plans to take him on a short tour, but they get interrupted at the first stop. Ace slinks out through the doorway to the sitting room and immediately winds himself through Jens’s legs, gazing up at Lucas warily.

“You have a cat?” Lucas asks, grinning down at the furball.

“Yeah, and he can be kinda bitchy, so I’d hold off on becoming a fan.”

As Jens says it, Ace butts his head against Lucas’s leg. Lucas raises his brows, grinning widely as Ace wraps around his feet. He leans down to scratch behind the cat’s ears and earns himself a purr as Ace rubs his head against his palm.

Jens watches the interaction with a glowing heart. It had been a spur of the moment decision, when Jens had asked him to come over. He hadn’t allowed himself to overthink, but had just jumped at the opportunity. He can’t remember the last time he has had the house to himself, but it certainly wasn’t within the space of time in which he’s known Lucas. Jens had only managed to spend the two nights so far with Lucas due to pure luck. Lucas had snuck him in the first time, and then his father had been working an evening and morning shift the second. They have never got to spend a full night truly alone, just to themselves, and that’s what Jens wants. His body thrums with the need for it even now, having ratcheted up a few notches since last Friday.

It’s almost unbearable, how much he just wants Lucas’s hands on him. It’s definitely embarrassing.

He may also be hoping to coax Lucas into opening up a little. Lucas has been a little quiet the past few days, thoughtful. He keeps turning to Jens as if he wants to say something and then stopping with a smile, offering him a kiss instead. Jens doesn’t mind the added affection in the slightest, even while being teased by his friends, even while wondering why it doesn’t freak him out. Lucas touches him and everything else seems to go still. That doesn’t worry him.

But there are other questions that still cause him concern, and he’s waiting and waiting for Lucas to provide the answers. He’s desperately reminding himself to be patient, to be trusting, but it’s difficult. It’s harder when he fears the faith isn’t being returned.

It’s familiar.

“You were so cute,” Lucas marvels, snapping Jens out of his daze. He’d wandered into the sitting room on his own and now stands admiring the photo frames on the mantle. His mouth stretches into a grin, taking in various images of Jens at different ages, none of them all that flattering.

“Come on, I didn’t bring you here so you could tease me,” Jens protests.

Lucas turns to him and raises a brow, smirking. “I thought that’s exactly why you brought me here.”

Jens flushes, but doesn’t deny it.

Lucas walks back to him, laughing quietly. “I’m not teasing, though. I mean it. You’re adorable.” He presses up onto his toes and kisses Jens’s nose.

Jens resists the urge to roll his eyes at him or drag him into a proper kiss and leads him to the kitchen instead. Lucas traipses after him leisurely, taking everything in, trailing his fingers along the wall. Jens opens the fridge. “Do you want anything else to eat? Or drink?”

“Uhm, just water, maybe?”

Jens pours him a glass of water and hands it over, filling one for himself and leaning back against the counter before taking a sip. He considers Lucas for a moment and then holds up a finger before slipping out to the back door. He cracks it open and immediately catches sight of Nugget on the step, waiting patiently.

Jens huffs and steps back, opening the door wider and allowing him to scuttle in and run straight to the kitchen. Jens returns just in time to see Lucas drop into a crouch, face lighting up with excitement as Nugget barges right into his hands, tongue hanging and tail wagging as Lucas sets his hands in his fur.

“Hi,” Lucas coos, voice taking on the tone Jens has only ever heard people use with babies. “You’re so cute. What’s your name? Huh?”

Jens bites his lip as he makes his way over to him, shaking his head at the display. By now Nugget is scrabbling at Lucas’s hoodie, having raised onto his back paws to get closer. “This is Nugget,” Jens introduces. “Nugget, this is Lucas. I was gonna warn you not to be jealous that I might like him more, but obviously he’s not gonna let that be a problem.”

Lucas grins up at him, entirely amused by his sigh and his pout. “You’re still my favourite,” he soothes. “Even more so now that I’ve met your dog.”

Jens laughs, but he is soothed. He relaxes even further as Lucas raises back to full height and draws him into a kiss. They enjoy the few seconds before Nugget barks, and then Jens is huffing and pulling away, looking down at him with a scowl. “Why did I let you in?”

Lucas smacks the back of his head for the comment, but kisses him again immediately after his whine of pain. Jens goes about getting Nugget his food and water as Lucas sits down on the floor and plays with him, looking entirely at home in Jens’s kitchen. It has an effect Jens can’t quite describe beyond the race of his heart and the flutter in his stomach. They spend a little while in this space, talking quietly about nothing. They discuss their studying, exams, assignments, for a few minutes before shutting it down in the agreement to take the night off. Nugget comes to settle himself in Lucas’s lap after filling his stomach, having already taken ownership of the boy. Jens might actually be a little annoyed if he didn’t feel so fond.

After a while, he lets Nugget back out into the garden and takes Lucas upstairs.

He has a brief moment of panic in which he wonders over the state of his room, not entirely comforted by the reminder that he has seen Lucas’s space in utter disarray multiple times. He’s glad when he opens the door and can’t inmediately see a mess or any laundry lying around. He turns to look at Lucas hesitantly, biting his lip as he watches the boy look around, taking in the space with delicate attention.

He moves around, examining the books on Jens’s shelves, his small collection of old CDs. He roves his eyes over the walls, where football posters are still tacked up alongside some of his drawings. Lucas zones in on these, lips twitching up at the corners as he gets closer.

“I didn’t know you drew.”

Jens shrugs. “I don’t, really. At least not like you. Not seriously. Just those kind of doodles.”

Lucas smiles fully, nodding. “They’re cool. Maybe you have a knack for art after all and aren’t just a secret makeup nerd.”

“Oh, Robbe already sent me some of the edited version of that. Do you want to see?”

“Really, already? That was quick.”

“It’s Robbe,” Jens laughs. “He’s always working.”

Lucas nods and Jens nods back, crawling onto his bed and patting the space beside him as he takes out his phone. Lucas settles down against his side, making himself comfortable on Jens’s shoulder the second he’s given permission. Jens pulls up the video and hits play. He relaxes into his pillows, focused more on Lucas pressed against him than the video. Lucas’s quiet laughter is enough of an indicator, and Jens only looks at the phone when he groans, covering his face with a hand.

“I can’t believe I let you rope me into this. Kes and Jayden are gonna see this and they’ll never let me forget about it.”

Jens huffs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he watches the footage. It’s one of the close-ups of Lucas, showing off the smoky eye Jens had managed to give him as he looks up at the camera, shaking his head before Jens stills him, laughing. “You look really pretty, though. I mean it,” Jens adds, before Lucas can roll his eyes or laugh it off.

The boy blushes instead, glancing up at him under his lashes, smiling widely. “You think so?”

Jens hums, tilting his head down to kiss him, relaxing further. “You always do, though. My handiwork just helped a little.”

“Oh, is that it?” Lucas laughs, leading Jens to hum again. “Okay, I see.”

Jens goes in for another kiss, but something has distracted Lucas. He leans up and away from Jens as he looks at his shelves again. “Is that a keyboard?”

Jens follows his line of sight before nodding.

“Moyo said you were more of a musician. Why have I never heard you play?”

It’s a simple enough question, and yet it makes Jens nervous. “I don’t know, I don’t really do it as much anymore.”

Lucas looks at him, soft and curious. “Would you play something for me anyway?”

Jens only hesitates for a moment before getting to his feet and fetching the instrument. He settles on the bottom of the bed, facing Lucas, who had leaned back to lie against the headboard as he watches him. Jens balances the keyboard on his lap and takes a moment to turn it on and adjust the volume, pressing a few keys to test it out and give him time to think of a song.

Eventually he settles on a score he’d learned recently, devoid of lyrics and focusing entirely on the notes. It starts off slow and allows him to get into a rhythm, fingers shaking, fluttering through the first few sections before gaining a little confidence as the rhythm becomes familiar.

It’s nerve-wracking, being able to feel Lucas’s eyes on him. Having anyone’s eyes on him. But he focuses on the music, and doesn’t falter.

He floats his hands naturally over the keys, having settled entirely by the time the rhythm picks up. It’s still not the hardest speed, and has a few repetitions, and it doesn’t take quite enough of his attention to make him forget about Lucas. He chances a glance at him when it slows down again, fingers lingering on the keys. Lucas is watching him with rapt attention, lips slightly parted, entirely focused. He looks much too enticing to just be lying here, in Jens’s bed, watching him, not doing anything to distract or attract attention and managing it anyway. Jens quickly averts his gaze down again and falls back into the quicker notes.

By the time he reaches the high section, his heart is at ease. It flows out of him in the stillness of the room, his pulse matching the ebb and flow of the music as it tapers out. It fills him with a light only music can, a familiarity now long ingrained in him. It’s in his nature, to pour himself out through his hands into the keys.

He holds the last note for an extra second, then looks up at Lucas. The boy is already watching him with a smile, eyes alight with that familiar wonder and misty with something Jens can’t identify. He crawls down the bed towards Jens and draws him into a kiss, deep and slow, careful of the keyboard in Jens’s lap as he tangles a hand in his hair. Jens kisses back reflexively, heart thudding.

“You’re amazing,” Lucas murmurs, after a few minutes that may just be seconds, expression still achingly soft.

Jens shakes his head, incidentally brushing their noses together. “It’s nothing special.”

“It is,” Lucas argues. “You are.”

Jens shuts his eyes and presses closer to him, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. They remain there for a moment before Lucas quietly says, “I want to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

It’s exactly what Jens had been hoping for, but it surprises him. His chest feels tight as he sets the keyboard aside and devotes his full attention to the other boy, who now avoids his gaze, nervously playing with his hands.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Jens reminds him. “But I’m listening. Nothing’s gonna scare me away.”

Lucas nods slightly, licking his lips. He lets out a shaky breath before straightening his shoulders and looking at Jens, resolute. “I know you don’t really understand why I stayed in Utrecht, or why I felt like it was my fault when my mom…” he trails off. Takes another breath. Starts again. “I didn’t tell you, but I fucked up before. After my dad left, everything was a little shitty. I couldn’t do it on my own, couldn’t even understand how to begin. I just needed to get away from it. I spent as much time as I could out of the house. With Kes and Jayden, at their houses or at parties, drinking and smoking. It wasn’t a big deal then, because it’s what we were all doing. I wasn’t just some rebellious, angry kid or something.”

He seems to falter, so Jens nods. Reminding him that he’s listening and also attempting to encourage him on. Jens presses closer, letting their knees bump before he takes Lucas’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the backs soothingly.

“I didn’t even think about how I was barely seeing her. I was always home late and she was always asleep early. Everything was fine, so I could keep ignoring it. I got home one night as usual and didn’t pay attention to the fact that the door was locked, or that it was unusually quiet. I was shitfaced, so I just went straight to bed. Imagine the fucking shock I had when my dad woke me up shouting the next morning.”

Lucas huffs, self-deprecating, and Jens resist the urge to pull him into his arms. Not yet.

“She was in the hospital,” he says quietly. “She’d downed half a bottle of pills and the neighbours found her. They’d had to call an ambulance. My dad was still her emergency contact. And I had no fucking idea about any of it.”

He looks up, eyes watery, and Jens pulls him in and holds onto him tightly. Lucas folds against his chest, tucking his head easily under his chin as he clings to Jens’s red hoodie. Jens strokes a hand down his face and presses a kiss to the top of his head, breaking down what he’d been told and trying to figure out how he’s supposed to respond.

“Fuck,” is what he eventually settles on. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Luc.”

Lucas shakes his head, gripping him tighter. “If I’d just been there, it wouldn’t have happened. I didn’t even know she wasn’t doing well. She was supposed to have someone who could watch out for the signs. She was supposed to be safe with me.”

Jens shakes his head, squeezing him, trying to convey comfort and reprimand all at once. “That’s not fair. None of that is on you. You don’t even know that you could have stopped it.”

“But I could have tried. I could have gotten to her sooner. I could have done something.”

It’s so adamant that Jens doesn’t feel like he can argue. He tries to put logic to it, but it doesn’t feel like something that can be broken down in such a way. He doesn’t think that’s what Lucas wants. He isn’t looking for pity or for Jens to excuse him.

Instead, Jens says, “I understand, Luc.”

Lucas presses closer to his chest, but finally glances up at him. Jens notes that though it had seemed like he would, Lucas hasn’t shed a tear.

Jens strokes his fingers down his cheek and presses a kiss to his forehead, watches him shut his eyes. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

Lucas nods, swallowing slightly, tilting his head against Jens’s cheek. “I just—it was too hard to explain right away. It isn’t something I talk about often. I mean, it’s been over a year since it happened and she’s past it, but I’m not. It’s dumb. Getting rid of the guilt...it’s something I’ve worked at and failed on for so long. Going back to her now, and messing up the same way just reminded me of what happened then and I couldn’t let it happen again. I’ve tried so hard, Jens.”

Jens cups his neck and tilts his head back enough to press their foreheads together, sending only comfort now as he gives another nod. “I get it. I’m not mad, Luc. I never was.” He sighs, letting his own eyes close as he attempts to gather his thoughts. “It just scared me. I know that I fuck up easily. I say or do stupid things and I don’t always pay enough attention. I’ve made it hard for people before. I was worried I’d done the same to you.”

Lucas shakes his head against his. “Hey,” he coaxes, touching Jens’s cheek. “I didn’t leave because you made it hard and I didn’t ignore you because I don’t trust you. I went home to tell my friends how much I care about you and I fucked up while I was there. I didn’t want to be the reason anyone got hurt, and I thought the best way to protect you was to let you go. But I fucked up and I’m so, so sorry Jens.”

“Don’t be,” Jens murmurs. “Just promise me you’ll stay.”

He has a feeling that they aren’t done. He’s aware that even if there is truly no more to het out of Lucas, Jens has his own demons lingering between them. But right now, Lucas is in front of him. He can’t bring himself to care about anything else.

“I’m staying,” Lucas swears instantly. “My life is easiest with you in it.”

“I know I’m shit at this, too,” Jens whispers. “At talking about things, and just being honest. I know I can make it hard to trust me. But it—it’s been hard for me to trust anyone, too.”

Lucas strokes his cheek, nodding, expression pinched.

“But I trust you,” Jens admits.

Lucas swallows. “Nothing is hard with you. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of,” he replies.

Jens kisses him, hard and unrelenting, and Lucas gives as good as he gets as he slides his hands under Jens’s hoodie.

[troop52]

do u !!! have any character theme songs for the troop boys? Like any songs you think really fits them (and why u think it fits)?

THATS A GREAT QUESTION!!

Before I get into it Im going to plug this collaborative Troop Playlist on Spotify, feel free to add onto it!! Continuing with my picks

I think a lot of the songs I associate with The Troop in general are just because I happened to listen to them around the same time I got into the book in the first place (So they could only be tangentially related BUT only if you squint hard) Example: Drunk by The Living Tombstone, cant really tie it into the story but in my mind its linked Some better, more fitting songs under the cut (Side note its LONGGG IM SORRY... Also its all YouTube links because some of these arent on Spotify :'^()

Disclaimer -Like 95% of my choices arent really a "These lyrics match up exactly 1 to 1" but more of an overall "the vibe/general idea its trying to capture lines up" type thing. If that makes sense.

Its Alright by Jack Stauber: Kind of self explanatory, I think its a perfect song for these guys. From "It's alright, I'm here, Everything's alright, Feels weird but calm, I wanna hear It's alright" to the whole sound of it- its all great. Equal parts distressing and sad with an almost eerie calmness to it. Despite it all theyre gonna be alright, right?

The Second Little Piggy by Worthikids: Another one that I think is sort of self explanatory- at least with the chorus. "If my brain turns to mush, If the shit hits the fan, Will you be my friend?" Kind of the falling apart of everything, specifically their relationships, in light of the incident.

Poor George by James Supercave: Another case of "listened to at the same time I read the book" BUT I was actually making a Troop PMV script with that song. I never finished it but maybe Ill revisit it... just for you

Cold Summer by Le Matos ft Computer Magic: I dont even think this takes place in the summer but the VIBES and also it came from Summer of 84, which is another good piece of murder boy media.

Treehouse by Alex G ft Emily Yacina: This is a Eef and Max type of song because they are bffs and thats final. Basic song because Im not creative, but I think its a nice heart to heart theyd have (with Eef doing the talking)

Fifteen Minuets by Nick Krol: On the flipside heres a song that goes with Eef and Maxs friendship fracturing, once again more from Eefs side than Maxs. THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGG

As far as songs for the boys as individuals hmmm thats a good one that I havent thought about as much...

MAX + The Ghosts by The Real Tuesday Weld: That survivors guilt... lyrics arent like a perfect match but I think it gets that sort of hollow feeling across. Hes haunted man... + Final Girl by Electric Youth: Ok its a little funny because har har Final Girl Trope but I mean HE IS ONE. ANd dont look at me its a nice song- "Others were gone, and you kept going on, You know they never really noticed, you were always different, One by one, They're all done, And you're the last one standing" + Going Grazy by Lonesome Wyatt and the Holy Spooks: HONESTLY this could go for all the characters but Im tagging it onto Max because hes the one who has to deal with the aftermath of losing everyone (sorry survivors guilt Max again </3) "Everyone's saying my mind is unsound, 'Cause I always see you when you aren't around" "They're gonna wrap me in a jacket of white, And lock me away in a room without light" is what cements it as a Max song for me

EEF + The Existential Threat by Sparks: Once again starting sad, I link this one specifically to his paranoia about the worms- especially with lines like "Can't they see the existential threat is on its way". Kind of exasperated no one else can see the danger (he thinks) hes in. + Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother: I know I know its basic but I cant help it!!! Eef anger issues arc we are shaking hands me too + Haunted by Laura Les: Eef struggles with people seeing him as "just like his father" and I think we can get some good angst out of this track if we keep that in mind. Especially the back half of the song with lyrics like "Do you think I'm frightening?" and "Mirrors shatter when I'm passing, broken glass and crashing" since he is just a reflection of his dad (to others at least). Also song good.

KENT + Goodbye Mr A by The Hoosiers: Mfw the disillusionment with authority sets in. I think the vibe fits when he had that little epiphany about how adults are fucked- not perfect but it gets the idea across me thinks. + I'm Gonna Win by Rob Cantor: Ties into his need to "win" aka be the best at everything, be in charge, all that jazz! Hell do whatever it takes to be successful, even if it hurts. That was a little emo + Toba the Tura by Forgive Durden ft Chris Conley: Not to be emo again but "They say you're gifted, well I just see a scared kid. They must have flipped it, your skills are latent. O, you snuffed the glow. Replaced it with coals. Threw away the throne... This mess that you've made, it's a six-foot grave. It's a home for your lonesome bones that remain. We'll disappear, but you'll stay here to rot" AND SO ON AND SO FOURTH representing his fall after it was revealed he was sick. He was referred to as "the uncrowned king" and was on top of the world but then POOF that all crumbled and it was made out that he basically deserved what happened to him. It would be fun to make a pmv of him with this song (Simplifying my thoughts a bit because Ive already written a LOT)

NEWT + I Earn My Life by Lemon Demon: Ok a little Kentcore but Im actually having a hard time coming up with songs for Newton so here we are, they can share. Newt existential crisis moment time I guess + Know How by The Crane Wives: POV Newt struggles with going through with the plans he makes to keep everyone safe (stopping Max from touching Kent, going back into the cabin, etc) "I am not brave, I am not brave, I keep my focus on what is safe, You drew a line, made up your mind, And now I'm struggling to realize" And also maybe struggling with his place in the group and as a person in general- all that living through his cousin thing. "I gotta wrap my head around, What my heart is telling me, I've been trying to drown it out, Just because I know what I am, I am supposed to do now, Doesn't mean I know, Doesn't mean I know how" + On The Outside by Oingo Boingo: Idk man. Hes on the outside lookin in!! Loner nerd!! Its ok though, we still love him

SHEL + Bad Blood by Creature Feature: The lyrics speak for themselves: "I can guarantee I will do evil things, The only way that you can stop me now, Is if you put me in the ground, Somewhere I'll never be found" + Frontier Psychologist by The Avalanches: Hinges on the fact that the principal or whoever was like "Your sons a freak" and Shels mom was like "HES PERFECTLY FINE" while Shelley was like dismembering an animal or something + Johnny by American Murder Song: The songs good but theres this ONE LYRIC that sucks so the link provided is an edited version and also a lovely Warriors oc video I think you should all enjoy and support <3 Anyway Shel would be Johnny I could see this song being a scene in the book. Field trip to Shels house and they find his murder garden

If anyone wants more for Im not opposed to making another post :^)

[reddogcollar]

Gretchen

And a distinct, helpless feeling.

First/Prev/Next

Gretchen rode into Brackenholme, a couple days ahead of schedule. She'd managed to free herself of her duties in Hedgemoor early, and decided to travel ahead of the real heat.

In a half circle behind her, were the Harriers. A fraction of them, at least.

Most of the Harriers who'd fought for her during the war had returned to the lives they'd had before, farmers and blacksmiths, and the like. Nearly none of them wanted to pursue the life of a soldier after being thrust into it.

The name stuck, though.

Of those few who'd remained, Trent was among them. He'd insisted on coming along to Brackenholme.

They both knew he'd be better spent in Hedgemoor, and that he'd be expected to stay. And traveling with him, even with companions, felt daunting, after everything.

Though, it'd be cruel of her to deny him the chance to see his brother after so long, and downright insulting to insinuate he wouldn't be able to make the trip because of his condition.

Despite said condition, he'd seemed to fair well.

Everyone pretended not to notice his obvious discomfort, getting off his horse as they arrived in Brackenholme. She paid special attention to her cane, needlessly inspecting it of any damage that may have happened on the ride.

If was well made, and entirely too sturdy to sustain any notable damage. She scrutinized it thoroughly though, until Trent came up beside her.

It was probably hard on his knees, if she had to guess, which he'd commented on before.

The war and everything Lucas and his Wyldwolves, may they all rot, did to him had put tremendous strain on his joints. It frustrated her to no end that everything that could be done for him already had been.

His health was as good as it was going to get.

Putting the matter aside, as there truly wasn't anything she could do, especially now, she handed off her horse to one of the Harriers and walked to one of the lifts, as quickly as she could without dropping her cane and breaking into a run.

Trent followed, not bothering to try and squash down his obvious excitement. It was clear to anyone who looked at him he was there for a visit, and barely considered himself to be on duty.

She stepped into one of the Great Oaks lifts, Trent just a step behind her, and ran her hand through her hair as it lurched upwards. She knew there was no reason to, but she felt apprehensive.

As if the letters she'd received had been false, and there were strangers waiting at the top to tell her her loved ones were already dead.

After everything, it was hard to believe they'd survived.

She sighed, gripping her hair in a fist and putting most of her weight on her cane, and got a reassuring look from Trent. Before he could say anything, the lift came to a stop and she had to straighten and smooth out her hair before stepping out.

Forcing herself to keep to a brisk walk, she went through the halls with Trent beside her, just a half step behind, nodding at those she passed until she entered the main hall, where all the apprehension dissipated instantly.

There was Drew, looking troubled and staring out a window. Farther back in the room, Bergan stood talking with an advisor about something she could not hear.

Lady Rainer was elsewhere.

They came up behind Drew and Gretchen tapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and causing him to flinch and turn around.

A grin split his face the second he laid eyes on them.

"Gretchen, Trent!" He briefly hugged each of them in turn, "You're here ahead of schedule, aren't you?"

"After freeing myself up, I could think of no reason to delay." She smiled, "Staying in Brackenholme has always been quite relaxing. How've you been?"

"Troubled, truth be told." He said, dropping his smile and glancing out the window, as if he were about to be lost in thought again, before waving it away, "But lets not worry about such things for now, its great to see you two. How've you been?"

She nodded, respecting his privacy no matter how she'd like to pry. It troubled her to think a friend of hers was suffering and there was, yet again, nothing she could do.

"I'm glad to see you too. I've honestly been feeling better than I have since before everything. Things are finally starting to feel solid again."

It was Drew's turn to nod. He was no stranger to the instability of war, either.

"And you, Trent?" He asked, turning to his brother, "How's Hedgemoor treating you?"

The brothers talked, briefly comparing their living arrangements to what they'd had on the Cold Coast before growing solemn and changing the subject, while she noticed Bergan coming over.

Not wanting Drew and Trent to be interrupted, they'd had very little time to talk face to face, even after the war, she met him halfway.

"Gretchen, my dear!" He pulled her into a bear hug, aptly enough, "Tell me, how've you and Hedgemoor faired since your last letter?"

"Thing's seem to be getting better by the day, Uncle. After Krupha's occupation in Hedgemoor, I feared none of the people would truly be able to rest until they'd all been replaced by a new generation. As for me, I've no troubles that I could burden you with." She smiled at him.

Of course, she had troubles, but that didn't mean she had the need to burden anyone with them but herself.

He nodded, leaving one of his hands on her shoulder.

"I'm glad to know you're finally coming to peace, as well as your city. What of Redmire?" He asked, as most developments had been so recent she hadn't had time to write of them.

"Redmire is being governed by a cousin of Count Fripp's, Brenn rest his soul, now that the bulk of his work in Bray is taken care of. Everyone who'd been displaced has returned, and you can barely tell what happened there. I only need to take care of one city now."

It'd felt like her duty, Hector being her cousin and the only remaining boar. He probably wouldn't want to be a Baron even if he could, anyways.

"Though, of course, that's also not a permanent arrangement. Its merely a favor on behalf of his departed cousin. Between the two of us, though, we'll have to find a suitable replacement before the stress of running two cities becomes too much for him as well." She explained, even now feeling guilty for putting what should be her duty onto an old man.

More so, it pained her that it was her duty in the first place, and not her cousin's to take care of. While being a Baron may not be his ideal, it'd mean he wasn't imprisoned, at least.

"No more of this political talk, though," She rushed on, quickly changing the subject, "How are you, Uncle?"

"I'm afraid how I am would be deeply intertwined with political talk, no matter what," He chuckled, "But I suppose I'm as fine as I can be. Busy, with this new celebration, that may well become annual, but its good to have a change of pace every now and again, eh?"

"And how goes all this preparation?"

"As smoothly as it could. Though I suppose that's helped by there being no strict guideline as to how things should go yet." His smile was barely visible through his beard.

She wasn't sure he'd ever been without it.

"If there's anything I could assist with, you know I will." She offered, then after his thanks, excused herself and left the Great Oak entirely.

She understood the concept behind celebrating their victory, and how it may boost the citizens morale, but she couldn't separate the concept from pointless slaughter.

Everyday that passed brought them nearer to when the war was won, and it made her feel ill. The reason she'd come to Brackenholme wasn't to celebrate, but to surround herself with as many people as possible, fearing what come when she was alone.

The Cats of Bast left an undeniable mark on all in Lyssia, not least on her.

She walked to clear her head, having no designation in mind, simply focusing on the rhythm of her footsteps and cane on cobble paths.

The celebration would mean remembering Whitley's death, sacrificing herself to save Trent, Cape Gala, and Lucas, in all his wretchedness.

To think she'd once looked forward to being married to him...

She walked that bit faster, focusing on the rhythm and nothing else until she found herself at the Garrison Tree.

Looking for anything to break her from her reverie, she went up to see Hector. It'd be nice to finally speak with him, with such scant replies he'd had to any letters she'd sent.

She was stopped dead by the guard stationed outside his room, though.

"I apologize, my lady, but I'm under orders to not let anyone see the Boarlord. He's been classified a danger to himself and others." He explained, tipping his head in a sign of respect.

She glared, finding that to be the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. What was more absurd, was that the orders would have had to have come from Drew.

"If he's a danger to himself, does locking him up alone really make sense?" She argued, crossing her arms and refusing to go back down.

"It does if he's a danger to others."

"Have you SEEN that boy?! There's no way he's a danger!" She said, quickly losing her patience with the guard, though she knew he was just following his orders.

"Tell that to Queen Amelie!" The guard exclaimed, becoming invested in the argument. It became clear he held some sort of resentment toward Hector.

Gretchen rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"She practically fell on his knife, it hardly counts as an example!"

"He raised a city of the dead! Where your cousin died, might I add!" The guard waved one of his hands about, gesturing as he spoke and nearly knocking against the door he stood in front of.

"It was Lucas who killed Whitley, and you'd do well to remember that!" She practically shouted at him, standing up straighter and becoming red in the face with anger. She wouldn't have Lucas's misdeeds attributed to her cousin.

"Besides, Hector was possessed the entire time. He can't be blamed for Icegarden." She added, regaining her composure to the best of her ability.

"He tricked the White Bears out of their city and took it over with the Ugri!"

"Well he didn't kill anyone to do it! He's hardly dangerous, and especially not to me, of all people." She said, to no avail.

The guard wouldn't budge, which was a comfort to a small part of her. At least if no one was allowed in, he'd be safe in there.

But loneliness clearly didn't agree with him, and he hardly needed to be protected from her.

She argued with the guard until her legs grew sore, and she started leaning on her cane more noticeably.

The guard sighed, standing up straighter and putting on a passive look.

"You're not seeing him and that's final, my lady. Those are my orders and I will not go back on them. You'd do well to go enjoy the rest of your day, instead of spending it arguing with me."

She bit the inside of her cheek, glaring at the guard. It was clear he wouldn't be swayed by any amount of arguing, and she didn't fancy trying to bribe him.

Furious, she left the Garrison Tree in search of Drew.

She found him just as he was coming off one of Great Oak's lifts, catching him unawares and grabbing him by the wrist.

"We need to talk, Wolf."

He looked surprised, not only by her tone but what she'd called him. Though it was leagues above "mutt", she'd reserved titles such as that for strangers.

She pulled him aside, where people were less likely to be disturbed by the impending argument, before going off on him.

"What in the world could've gotten into you, Ferran, to not only let Hector be confined to a cell in the first place, but now for me to find you've ordered your soldiers not to let him be seen, calling him a danger that he hardly presents?!" She demanded, keeping her voice low.

If she were to shout at him, everyone outside would hear.

This only made his surprised look appear more dramatic, muddled by confusion and a small amount of offence.

"Gretchen, that order was made by Bergan, just a couple of days ago! There's nothing I can do about it, short of trying to convince him otherwise, which I've been trying to do whenever I get the chance." He explained, quick to redirect her anger.

"Why in Brenn's name would he do that?!" She huffed, twisting her cane and driving it into the dirt.

Drew hesitated, as if conflicted, before clasping his hands.

"It'd be best if Hector told you." He answered, refusing to answer in any useful way.

"Well I can't if I'm not allowed to see him."

He was quiet for a moment, looking at the Garrison tree, craning his head back to see the top.

"Well, I climbed the tree last night." He supplied, looking back at Gretchen.

She turned to look up at the Garrison tree, rubbing her thumb on the smooth wood of her cane.

She could go for periods of time without it, but it was never long before the pain became impossible to ignore. She'd done the injury no favors in Icegarden, and the strain had undone a good portion of the healing it'd gone through prior.

She didn't regret a thing.

"I don't think that'd work for me." She said finally, looking back at Drew. She may be able to walk a distance but she had no desire to test her limits climbing up and down a Great Oak.

"Yeah." He nodded, tapping the White Fist's pointer against its thumb.

The clicking was the only sound between them for a moment, before the White Fist crunched, Drew holding it in a fist with a smile on his face.

"I may be able to help you though, come." He walked off in the direction of the Garrison Tree, not waiting. He stopped at a bench alongside the cobble path, a short ways away from the Tree, and had her sit down and wait.

He went into the Garrison Tree, and she was to wait either for the guard or Drew to come out, depending on if he could be convincing.

A minute passed, then another, and another.

After the fifth, she saw the guard leaving the Garrison Tree, seeming pleased with himself.

She waited another ten minutes before no one was in sight, and got up, walking as if she had nowhere to be and was just enjoying a stroll, before darting into the Garrison Tree the moment she neared it.

Outside Hector's door stood Drew, standing guard.

She smiled, thankful for his help, and slipped into the cell.

Hector sat a table with a book in front of him, looking at her with an owlish expression, as if he hadn't expected her.

"Hello, cousin." She quickly closed the distance, briefly touching his shoulder in greeting instead of hugging him. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Gretchen! Hi!" He smiled awkwardly, slapping the book shut and pushing it away from him. "This is rather unexpected!"

"I apologize for that, but unexpected was the only way I'd get to see you, it seems." She sat down, and asked, "What happened with Bergan?"

He grew as stiff as the covers on his books, and looked uncomfortable.

"Nothing important, really." He said, obviously not wanting to talk about the subject.

"Hector, it absolutely is important! Why have I been barred from seeing you?" She asked, refusing to ignore what was happening. She couldn't do anything if she couldn't understand.

"You really needn't worry about me, I'm fine. I'll get by." He insisted, glancing around the room. After everything, it seemed he still had trouble with eye contact.

"Of course I need to worry about you! You're my cousin and now you're being isolated. What kind of family would I be if I did nothing?"

"You'd be much happier family if you simply didn't concern yourself with it! I've enough books to keep me entertained should I be isolated, it won't kill me." He insisted, wrapping his good arm around his chest in an imitation of crossing them.

"Books do not substitute for a conversation, and if you're smart you'd know isolation isn't good for you no matter how books you've got!" She said, thumping her cane against the floor for emphasis despite being seated.

"I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know the full extent of the problem." She said, losing her argumentative tone for a more concerned one.

Hector stayed quiet, looking solemn.

"I can't tell you." He said quietly, looking down at the table top.

"Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I do!" He quickly looked up, before appearing ashamed of himself. "I simply fear you wouldn't trust me."

They both flinched when they heard Drew knock on the door, softly three times.

That was her cue to leave, lest they run into someone on the way out and get caught.

She sighed, standing.

"I'll be back, cousin. And I expect to find out what happened. I'll help you no matter what." She put her hand on his shoulder again, lingering there while he gave his short goodbye.

With no excuse to stay and risk getting caught, she pulled herself away.

She spent the rest of the evening in Bergan's hall, puzzling out Hector's situation and what she could do. There had to be something, she refused to helplessly stand by.

It was there she finally bumped into Lady Rainer.

"Hello, Gretchen," She greeted her, smiling warmly, "I'm sorry I missed you when I arrived."

"It's no trouble." Gretchen waved it away, lost in thought and only half listening.

"Is something on your mind?" Rainer frowned. "You seem distracted."

She was quiet for a moment, considering whether or not Rainer would be able to help her. The Duchess had always been more reasonable than her husband, surely this matter was no different.

"You know what Bergan is doing to Hector, yes?"

Rainer's expression dropped, becoming saddened as she nodded.

"Aye."

"And it's a horrible thing to do, to isolate him!"

"It is." She nodded again, "I've talked to him about it, but he has the final say when it comes to serious crime. And he can be as stubborn as a goat."

"Hector is barely a criminal." Gretchen straightened, prepared to get into another argument.

"Gretchen," Lady Rainer started slowly, taking time to pick her words carefully, "I care for him too but he did seize Icegarden, nearly starve out your uncle, and kill the queen. These things shouldn't be overlooked."

"He was sick in the head! He shouldn't be vilified for being ill!" Gretchen argued, refusing to see her cousin mistreated.

"Of course he shouldn't. But it doesn't excuse the harm he caused. He can be helped without us disregarding his mistakes, which would do more hard than good." She said, still taking time to choose her words.

Years of debating with Bergan had forced her to hone the skill of convincing people she was right.

Gretchen deflated, becoming tired and sullen instead of angry.

"I have very little family left, and I cannot lose him, neither to death or Bergan disallowing me from speaking to him." She said, her voice coming out flat.

"I know. I haven't stopped trying to make him be more reasonable, and I don't intent to." Lady Rainer assured her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

It made her feel that much less helpless.

"Thank you."

[gumnut-logic]

Minerva (Bit 1)

Okay, this fic is an attempt to get my mojo back. Every time I go on holiday it gets sideswiped. Being sick definitely did not help, though admittedly coughing all night last night may have made me my usual sleep deprived self, so who knows, it might have helped :D

But anyway, This fic is Kermadec because I needed a boat :D It also required a little research - Minerva Reef is a pair of actual atolls not far from Tracy Island. I’m not sure of the distance so I fluffed it.

Andre and Cecil are a pair of private nurses first mentioned in Gentle Rain. I like to recycle my OCs but I haven’t read that story in ages. Here’s hoping I’ve kept them true to form. They haven’t been sketched out in this much detail before, in any case.

There is fluff. I broke Virg again, oops, but there is resultant fluff. I’m sick, I can’t help myself. 

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @vegetacide​ for the read throughs and support. I haven’t forgotten about The Tattoo, I just needed a little self indulgence first.

This bit is mainly set up and I hope to write more asap. 1726 words.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Two broken legs.

If there was anything worse than a broken limb, it was more than one and two broken legs was the worst.

Or two broken arms. He wasn’t sure as he hadn’t managed to break two arms as yet. But two broken legs definitely sucked.

Of course, it was worth it. Saving children was always worth it. But weeks of confinement, of being unable to do anything for himself, was about to send him around the bend, out the window and into the Pacific.

His brothers did their best and both Andre and Cecil, the family nursing staff - yes, they had enough injuries on enough of a regular basis to have nursing staff on their payroll -  had been called in on this one to cart him back and forth across the house, see to his necessaries, and pretty much do his bidding.

Which was fine, since he and Andre got on like a house on fire. The man spoke both paint and piano almost as much as Virgil and there had been fun times, despite his infirmities.

Cecil was a Gordon clone and those two got up to much more mischief than was really acceptable for an employee. But since Gordon usually took all the credit, even the time Scott had his eyebrows shaved, they got away with hell.

Besides, Scott’s eyebrows had been partly burnt off already and had looked stupid, so shaving them both off was an improvement that had to be done. How Gordon had managed it, Virgil didn’t have a clue...and also didn’t want to think too hard about it because it gave his rapscallion little brother powers that he really shouldn’t have.

Cecil played it straight and the Tracys put up with it. Because despite Cecil’s idiosyncrasies, the two nurses were very, very good at their jobs.

That and they came as a pair because Andre and Cecil were married.

So, other than expanding Gordon’s power of pranking, things were good. Well, as good as they could be while he had two broken legs. 

But there were days.

God, were there days.

Days, so many days, and today was one of them.

Scott had been called out early in the morning and consequently everyone was up. Alan was called next and he and Kayo were out dealing with yet another space freighter collision. Scott was going to kick some space agency ass about updating some space etiquette rules in the near future to stop this stupidity from happening, and considering how much profanity was bouncing down from orbit, both John and Alan would be there to back him up.

So three brothers were out, leaving Virgil imprisoned with Gordon, Andre, Cecil and Grandma. This combination wouldn’t normally be an issue, but Grandma was cooking up a storm and Virgil was trapped.

Gordon may be a pain at times, but he saw the hazard coming and he was a good brother at heart. So, with some assistance from Andre and Cecil, the Fish deployed his yacht, A Little Lightning, and suddenly the day seemed so much brighter.

Virgil was ensconced in pillows and the best of comfort on the back deck and had the privilege of watching Mateo pass on their starboard side as Gordon guided the yacht out into the open ocean.

Why he seemed to always be injured when aboard this boat, he had no idea, but Gordon was a life saver.

Virgil had no idea where his brother might be taking him and he didn’t really care. He just lay back and enjoyed a beautiful day, the breeze, the many sounds of water and the gentle bounce of the boat.

At some point he dozed off.

It had to be a sign of how much healing his body needed, but somehow he managed to sleep the entire trip, because it was the sudden change in the engine noise that woke him.

Andre was smiling at him in that soft caring way he had about him. Dark hair, blue eyes and a soft smile, the nurse was somewhat reminiscent of his big brother, but without the fire and the drive. The man was quiet and reassuring, exactly what was needed when ill or injured.

“It looks like you needed that.”

Virgil grunted, never a fan of waking up. 

But Andre knew this and had exactly what the injured engineer needed - a mug of steaming coffee.

Virgil forced the last few steps to full consciousness, and, pushing himself up, made a grab for the mug.

The mug moved away. “Uh-uh, stretch first.”

Shit.

It was a thing Andre made him do every time he woke. Before coffee, he had to stretch abused muscles that were forced to sleep in awkward positions due to his legs.

Virgil mumbled and grumbled, but did as he was bid. He knew how important the exercises were, but the lure of coffee was just cruel. He vaguely noted the yacht’s engine dropping to a slow cruise and the open ocean having just that touch more sway, rolling the yacht in the swell.

“Where are we?”

“Cecil says we’re visiting Minerva.”

“Oh.” Virgil blinked. He’d flown over the Minerva Reefs many, many times. They were a navigation marker not that far from Tracy Island. Though they were far enough away for him to have been asleep for some time. “How long was I out?”

That smile again. “Several hours. Did you good.” The nurse had placed the coffee on a side table and was helping Virgil sit up straight enough to consume the taunting liquid from heaven.

A breathless moment and the mug was in his hands and coffee was pouring down his throat. God, Andre made great coffee. Yet another reason to put up with his husband.

He surfaced at some point and managed a thank you that set the nurse grinning just as a coral reef started to drift past.

Virgil didn’t know much about the Minerva Reefs other than Melissa Fisher on Raoul swore about them..alot.

They were on the very edge of the Kermadec Ocean Sanctuary and she had wanted to add them to the exclusion zone for a very long time. But the reefs were owned by Tonga or Fiji, depending on which country you spoke to and the environment continued to suffer from it.

He vaguely remembered Gordon saying something about visiting the reefs in Four on several occasions and Virgil had no doubt that he and Melissa were likely doing some kind of sneaky ecological monitoring or some such. After all, the reefs were rather close to Tracy Island and Gordon rather passionate about such things.

As A Little Lightning cruised between two reef headlands, Virgil surmised they were at the northern of the two atolls.

As Virgil guzzled the last of his coffee, the yacht came to a complete halt in the lee of one of the headlands - if you could call it that, the reef barely made it above the water line. He heard the sea anchor deployed and there was suddenly silence except for the crashing of waves against coral and sand and the breeze.

Virgil closed his eyes and soaked it in.

The empty mug was tugged gently from his hand and he vaguely registered a plate being placed on the table beside him. “Cecil made pie.”

That snapped him out of it. “Pie?” The prankster could cook and he was suddenly assaulted with a delicious aroma.

“Steak and bacon, topped with mashed potato and cheese.” The plate had a generous serving along with salad piled up beside it. Andre was grinning at his expression. “He’s mine, you can’t have him.”

Virgil had to grin. “Well, at least I know one of the reasons why you nabbed him.”

Andre’s grin softened, but it was still a grin. “In the top five.” A hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder. “Eat up, you’ll need it for this afternoon’s workout.”

That deflated him a little.

The nurse noted what must have been in his expression. “Okay, perhaps it can be a brief session today.” A shrug. “After all, an atoll is hardly a swimming pool.”

“Virg trying to con you out of rehab?” Gordon bounced onto the deck, a grin on his face and that look of absolute relaxation the man got whenever he was out on the water.

“‘S not rehab.” So Virgil was pouting and acting like a child. “It’s maintenance.” Of what still worked, until the casts came off and then the hell would really start.

“Don’t let those baby browns lure you from the path of righteousness, Andre.”

“What? Like you attempted last time?” The nurse was grinning at the aquanaut.

That brought Gordon up short.

“I have to say that your eyes are a lighter brown, not quite the same colour, but the manoeuvring is almost identical.”

“What?” It was a two Tracy chorus shot at Andre with two brows, one dark, one light, shooting daggers at the nurse.

Andre just laughed and turned back to Virgil. “You going to eat your pie?”

The nurse’s blue eyes did some manoeuvring of their own and Virgil found himself snatching up the plate and hovering over it to protect his slice of pie.

Cecil chose that moment to appear. As usual, there was never a laugh far behind him as he was wearing a bright pink chef’s cap canted at an angle. But it was the two plates of pie in his hands that drew the attention of the other two men on deck.

Gordon didn’t hesitate, grabbing his plate and shovelling pie down his throat with barely a thank you. Virgil growled in his direction.

“What? It’s good pie. Cecil knows I appreciate him, don’t you, Cecil?”

But the cook was accepting a gentle kiss from his husband as the man took his plate, his other hand drifting from Cecil’s shoulder, down to the small of his back in a gesture simple but intimate enough for Virgil to turn away to give them privacy.

His eyes landed on Gordon, who’s face had an odd expression as he looked back at Virgil, as if he knew something that Virgil didn’t.

Virgil glared at him.

It, no doubt, had something to do with Kay. He would slap his little bro about the head later.

In the meantime...”So, what are we doing here?”

-o-o-o-

Bit 2

[bcbdrums]

My Heartbeat

Have a smol Drakgo fanfic.  This is related to another fic I have written.  It’s kind of a spoiler so I won’t mention until the end.

FFn Link

AO3 Link

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My Heartbeat

Soft. Warm. The barely perceptible, but rhythmic and steady pulsing beneath his hand. Her heartbeat.

It was his anchor as he lay beside her, his eyes frequently closed during the long hours as he stayed with her in an attempt to comfort her—physically, mentally, emotionally... He didn't dare leave her side unless he had to.

His hand flat on her chest, feeling the slow, gentle beat of her heart, let him know that for the moment at least she wasn't panicking. But he knew what was in her mind, for it was the same thing that had been in his constantly for the past six weeks.

A hiss from her lips caused his eyes to open the second before her entire body winced in pain, her knees drawing up farther, her arms hugging her middle tighter, and her face twisting into a grimace. He kissed her bare shoulder repeatedly as she rode the wave of pain mixed with nausea, a symptom that had become a constant presence in her body. It kept her mostly bedridden for the past several weeks, and so he had resigned himself to the same. The pain was bad enough to endure; he couldn't bear the thought of her being alone in her fear.

Suddenly the warmth of her chest beneath his hand vanished as she rolled to the side and vomited into the bucket set next to the bed for just that purpose. He was on his knees in a flash, holding her hair back and rubbing her arm as she expelled only bile, for there was nothing in her stomach to actually throw up. She hadn't been able to keep food down for weeks.

When she was finished, he held the glass of water for her to swish her mouth clean and she spat that into the bucket as well. He considered encouraging her to drink, but the pained look on her face told him it would have to wait.

As soon as she was re-settled, he wordlessly left the bed to take the bucket to the industrial-sized sink in the lab to clean, as had become their routine. But not before setting up the backup bucket for her.

His steps were brisk as he hurried to complete the task, his head down and his brow furrowed in worry as he thought about the way her clothes hung loose on her body and how her hip bones seemed to be jutting upward more prominently when he watched her laying on her back.

As he cleaned the bucket he decided to bring up going to the hospital again. He thought he could convince her this time, but...he dreaded the emotional stress it would bring her, if he took the tactic that he thought would work. And he knew that being in the hospital would only add to her fear and stress, thus potentially making things worse.

It was a problem that seemed to be without a solution.

After returning and setting the bucket back next to the bed, and noting the backup bucket was still clean, he returned to her side where she had resumed the familiar position of trying to moderate her pain. Knees drawn up, forearms wrapped around her middle, head on the pillow with her tangled hair splayed in every direction, and her eyes closed with her face frozen in a permanent grimace of pain.

She looked so...helpless.

He carefully crawled back onto the bed next to her so as not to jostle her and make her pain worse, and when he lay down he kissed her shoulder repeatedly as he replaced his hand over her heart. After a few minutes of the slow, lazy kisses he shifted up onto his side and leaned partially over her. Her eyes slid open, and he hesitated just enough for her to see the sympathy in his eyes before he kissed her lips.

Time slipped away as they kissed, the soft and slow caresses a shared comfort that they both sorely needed. He longed to take her in his arms and bring her small form close to his and perhaps strengthen her through his soul... But such poetic things were only possible in imagination.

A hiss of pain escaping her lips parted them, and he stared down at her in worry as she blinked through the wave of nausea and discomfort. Her eyes pleaded with him as he remained hovering over her, their faces mere inches apart. It broke his heart and gave him the final push to make the suggestion, as there was nothing he could do to help her.

"I think you should go to the hospital," he blurted out.

Her gaze slowly focused as she writhed. She shook her head. "No. If I go in...they won't let me out."

He lifted a hand to slowly stroke her cheek, her skin hot and clammy to the touch. "Why not?"

"They'll just want to keep running tests... They'll try to analyze my powers, to see how they affect me and how they'll...how..." She trailed off as her throat constricted and her eyes started filling with tears.

Drakken sat up and slowly gathered her into his arms. She shook slightly from the pain of the movement, but soon her arms were around him and clinging to him as she cried into his shoulder.

The fear they both felt was tangible at almost every moment. Even when she felt up to getting out of bed and he could coax her into a walk for exercise, he knew...it was always on her mind. And he feared that the level of stress she was under would be just as harmful as her powers could be. But her inability to eat was the first and most important priority.

"But Shego... You've barely eaten in weeks. You're losing weight. The hospital can give you nutrients through an IV. It's not as good as real food, but since you can't eat—"

"I don't want to go!" she said desperately. "You know they'll run tests. And...if they find something..."

Her tightening throat cut off her words again, and he rubbed her back as she clung to him. He understood her fear. On the one hand, a hospital could give them constant status updates...and then if something was really wrong they could potentially know about it while there was still time to do something. But on the other hand... They could discover that everything they were hoping for was just a dream, and nothing more.

He dreaded the day they would be met with the cold, Earth-shattering truth that what they so desired was impossible—they couldn't have children. And he knew that Shego blamed herself, as much as it was an equal possibility that the loss of their first child may have been due to his mutated genetics; he couldn't dissuade her from the idea that it was just her. And her constant illness through both pregnancies only served as 'evidence' in her eyes.

He began kissing her head and rubbed her back as she continued crying into his shoulder. She had been more stressed that week than usual, and he didn't want to bring up what he was sure was the reason why. It was the seventeenth week—the same week that they had lost their first child. And now they were at the same threshold for the one currently growing within her. There was no way of knowing of course if there was anything special about that week. They didn't even know why they had lost the first one. But he understood there was a psychological fear that she was dealing with, however unscientifically based it may be.

He hoped that when the week was past she may be able to calm down, but he feared she would only get worse. In the rare moments he wasn't at her side, he had been researching and he knew that stress was the last thing a pregnancy needed. Not to mention malnutrition.

He gently drew her head back and her wide, frightened eyes met his, searching for something. After a moment she looked down, her face twisting in embarrassment and anger, no doubt with her own weakness. His heart broke.

He kissed the tears from her cheeks as she tried to control her labored breaths. And then she kissed him hard, just for a moment as she suddenly winced in pain, and then doubling over she turned to throw up nothing over the side of the bed again. Drakken pulled her hair back and covered her body with his protectively, hovering close to her heaving back. When her breathing began to calm she pushed against his back and then rolled to the center of the bed, he moving ahead of her. She leaned shakily on her side, staring at nothing, her eyes wide with dread.

He watched the trembling of her shirt over her chest with every heartbeat, slowing gradually as her vision began to refocus. He rubbed her arm ever so lightly as she swallowed and mentally shook herself of the emotions she was fighting. She looked up at him slowly.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"No," he said quickly, gathering her up into his arms. "It's okay to be scared."

He felt her shuddering breaths against his chest as she held on tight. And for a moment he let himself feel it too. The dread of losing another child... Something they hadn't even been sure they wanted until they'd found themselves pregnant the first time. And now they wanted it so desperately it was almost painful. But...he needed to be strong for her. So he swallowed down his own fear and set his mind to solving the problems that he had some control over.

"Shego..." He leaned back and held her shoulders as she looked up into his eyes. She must have read what he was about to say because defiance suddenly sprang up in hers. But he was putting his foot down. "You have to get nutrition somehow. If you can't eat, then...the baby won't get any nutrients either. And then none of the rest of this will matter."

He saw in her eyes, reluctant as she was, that she knew he was right. And regardless, he was resolved. Even if it meant taking her to the hospital against her will. He wasn't going to lose their second baby just because she was too sick to eat. Not to mention...he was starting to fear losing her too.

"Okay. I'll try to eat something again," she said uncertainly.

"Good." Drakken stood up and stepped around the bed, scooping her up into his arms since walking while sick always meant a pause to throw up at least once. He also leaned down for her to grab a bucket in the event of such a problem on the way to the kitchen.

"Drakken..." she murmured as she set her face against his neck, her fingers lazily clinging to the bucket handle as it swung and bounced off his leg.

"Yes?"

He stopped walking as she lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes searched his, but for what he wasn't sure. He continued on more slowly as he watched her and waited. She glanced down a moment, appearing sad before she looked back up. They reached the kitchen and he took the bucket from her and set it on a chair.

"If...if we can't do this...are you going to be okay?"

Drakken's lips parted in silent surprise as he stared into her worried eyes. Had part of her fear throughout the weeks been for him?

"I know...you're trying to be strong for me, but I know that...this means everything to you. And if we can't...I still love you."

She slid out of his arms to stand in front of him as he continued staring at her in shock. Was she worried that if they couldn't have a baby that he wouldn't...want her anymore?

He watched her cheeks color as she looped her arms around his neck and spoke softly and shyly, but a bit desperately. "I love you...with all I am."

"Oh...Shego," he said in the split second before he kissed her. His arms locked tightly around her as he attempted to kiss away every fear and worry about their relationship that she had. The thought that he might leave her...for anything... But worst of all, the realization that she was insecure about their relationship.

If she weren't sick, he would carry her back to bed and prove his love in as many ways as she needed. He settled for proving kisses instead, his lips moving against hers powerfully until the salt of her falling tears joined the sweetness of her lips. And it wasn't until he felt her melting in his arms that he scooped her up again and brought his lips higher to kiss her closed eyes.

"Oh Shego," he murmured. "Darling..."

She slowly leaned away, a small smirk having found its way to her face.

"'Darling'?"

He blushed. He did often call her that and more, but just in his head...

"Dumpling?" he tried.

Her smirk grew. "Nostalgic..." she said with a nod.

Her arms tightened around his neck and he felt a grin coming to his own lips as he finally saw a hint of peace in her eyes. He took a breath and let spill many of the things that often ran through his head when he looked at her.

"My queen. My angel. Goddess. The most perfect woman to have ever existed."

Her smirk bloomed into a full smile, and he continued rambling on as he set her down on one of the bar stools before turning to the fridge.

"Sweetheart... My pearl... My jewel..." he said with a grin as he began gathering ingredients and piling them around the blender. "Babe... Hot tamale..."

Shego almost giggled at that one, but then her smile vanished as she held her stomach and doubled over, one hand gripping the counter as the other held her stomach. Drakken watched her for a moment until he was sure she wasn't going to need the bucket, and then he started up the blender.

Shego watched him with interest as she slowly recovered her good humor, her hand not leaving her stomach as she blinked at him. He finished blending the ingredients and then poured the mixture into a pot on the stove, after which he immediately began washing the blender.

"Keep going," Shego said quietly, her voice belying the pain she constantly felt.

Drakken thought of the other things he called her in his mind as he washed the appliance. "My star... My sunshine."

He nearly wiped his soapy hands on his pajamas, forgetting he wasn't wearing an apron. He wiped them on a dish towel and then stirred the broth he had made, smiling in satisfaction before opening the freezer and taking out a Tupperware of homemade ice cream. He set it on the counter in front of Shego with a spoon, and then followed it up by pouring a glass of coconut milk he took from the fridge.

"Ginger?" Shego asked, cautiously picking up the spoon.

"Yes. Eat a little of that first. If you can...keep it down, then we'll try the broth."

"Okay..." she said uncertainly, putting a tiny sliver of the ice cream on the edge of the spoon.

Drakken watched her slowly eat the sliver, tensing as she did so as if the minuscule amount of food would instantly cause her nausea to worsen. But after several seconds, it didn't. She took another small sliver onto her spoon.

Drakken turned the broth on the stove down to a simmer and then moved to sit beside her, setting a supportive arm around her. As he watched her nervously dissolve the second sliver of ice cream on her tongue, a thought occurred to him.

"Maybe...I could work some of my connections. And instead of going to the hospital, we could bring the hospital to you."

She looked at him in a mixture of curiosity and fear. But she put another sliver of ice cream on her spoon.

"Just...an IV, so you can get some more nutrition. And...maybe an ultrasound machine?"

Shego looked up and away at nothing. He watched the emotions play across her face as all the possibilities ran through her mind.

"We wouldn't...have to have anyone here. I can set it all up myself. And I know how to insert an IV—"

"Drakken... Okay."

He studied her expression as she looked at him. She still looked afraid, her tangled hair falling across her face as she gazed at him and struggled to make trust the dominant emotion in her eyes.

"My dream..." he said as he brushed her hair back. Her smile slowly returned as he offered more pet names. "My heartbeat... My world."

"I like those..." she said with a small smirk. "But how about...just 'dumpling' for when you feel like you need a pet name, and...'darling' in public, to rub our happiness in people's faces?"

Drakken grinned. But the moment of peace was broken as Shego grimaced and whirled around to hold her face over the bucket to throw up nothing again, the spoon gripped tightly in her shaking fingers as she retched. Drakken grabbed her hair and held it, wrapping an arm around her to support her as her legs began to shake.

As soon as she was done, he picked her up again so she didn't have to worry about standing. She hissed in pain as she tightened in on herself and leaned into his chest, her head falling on his shoulder. Drakken sighed and picked up the bucket, prepared to head back to their bedroom.

"Shego—"

"Put me down," she said shakily. "You're right. The baby needs to eat. I want to keep trying the ice cream."

He carefully set her back on the bar stool and after replacing the bucket on the chair he sat next to her. She put another sliver of ice cream on the spoon that she'd managed not to drop and then let it dissolve on her tongue. Drakken gently rubbed her back as he watched her struggle, helpless for what to do next.

As her shaking began to still she looked up at him, the familiar fear and worry evident through the pain in her eyes.

"We'll be okay, Shego," he said with authority, though he was sure his voice was shaking. But then through the fear, love began to shine in the green depths of her gaze.

"Drakken... Call me something sweet again," she said softly, a tiny smirk turning up the corners of her mouth..

He leaned closer to her and held her tighter as she put a slightly larger bit of ice cream on her spoon.

"My world... My heartbeat."

She licked the ice cream off the spoon and then rested her face against his.

"My love."

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

This fic was a distant sequel to my fic, “Rekindling.”  Thanks for reading!

[fsketchart]

A Second Chance - Chapter 3

I'm so sorry for the wait but here's a summary of the sections.

[Advertisement Voice]

WELCOME! Over here to the left we have a heartfelt battle between Evillustrator and a group of rebels. Will Marc's feelings for Nathaniel get in the way, or will he get the job done?

On the right here, we have the latest new Batman vs Superman argument that just came in. It's a limited addition and includes a bonus Wonder Women add on to the set.

Now, we just recently added a new product onto the shelves, including a misunderstanding, panic, and an argument that is an partner set to the previous.

Let's see if first impressions really do stick.

Au Created by @ozmav​

NOTES : 

Thank you so much for the lovely feedback, I truly do appreciate all of the love and support this fic has gotten so far, it absolutely blows my mind that I've gotten so much feedback from this. This chapter in particular is almost 3000 words, sorry if it's a bit long. It was definitely longer than I was intending it to be, but I think it turned out for the best. Also, apologies if there are any errors in here. I'll be going back in later to double check and proofread it. If you catch any errors grammatically, feel free to let me know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please...Nathaniel don’t do this.  I know you have to be in there!” Marc cried, hands trembling as his knees felt numb.

“That’s Evillustrator to you.  What we had was nice Marc, but if you truly cared you would want me to be happy.  I finally feel at peace, I can draw to my hearts content and every piece become a reality.  If you truly cared, you wouldn’t be trying to stop me right now,” Evillustrator said.

“I know you, Nathaniel, better than I know myself.  I know that you’ll regret what you’ve done, please come with us and give me your pen.  Then, after ladybug gets here, the damage you’ve caused can be reversed, and we can go back to-”

“Go back to what?  When you and your class gets to be happy while I sit in silence in my class?  While I get harassed and bullied, constantly put in your shadow while you’re basking in attention?  The spotlight will soak you up.  Every creation I make is made with so much passion and time, yet nothing ever competes with yours.  Every word I say means nothing in comparison to people like Marinette!  Lila and Hawkmoth have helped me realize this, and you will pay for what you’ve done,” Evillustrator yelled, grabbing his pen and quickly drawing roughly on his board.

His sketching was rushed and rough, as he quickly drew harsh lines, forming many, many stick figures.  Each stick figure slowly stood up , and soon there was an army, each one immediately charging.

Max quickly slammed his laptop shut and moved it aside on the ground, abandoning his bag.  

Aurore on the other hand, immediately started fighting back, her umbrella dueling as both a shield and a sword.  Marc quickly wore off the shock and started grabbing his keys in his hand and began slashing wildly at the stick figures, but to no avail.  Max, however had a different approach.

“Look, at his tablet.  It’s flashing red, it must be running out of battery so he’s drawing messier and faster,” Max said, pointing to Evillustrator.

“Why is that?  He didn’t have that issue before!” Aurore yelled, as she extended her umbrella to block the overhead stick figures, jumping down upon her.

“Hawkmoth must be running out of energy.  If the tablet is shutting down, then I’m guessing he’s too busy to save the stick figures.  We need to make him use all the rest of the battery without saving the stick figure drawing.  If the tablet shuts down, then hopefully the drawings won’t be saved, and they’ll disappear!” Marc yelled, as he attacked the stick figure jumping behind from Max.

Aurore exchanged a look between the two boys before yelling, “Guys!  It’s okay!  I can handle myself over here!”

Evillustrator immediately began to draw more complicated figures.  Gotcha right where I want you!  If I can just get a few more drawings out, they’ll be right where I want them!  Evillustrator schemed.

Aurore however, quickly dodged all their attacks, and began to run wildly while using her umbrella as a shield in front of her, pushing all the other stick figures in front of her out of the way as she charged on through.

Evillustrator began to get more and more frustrated, as he drew more and more.  Eventually, Marc and Max joined in, causing distractions from all over the place.  As time went on, Evillustrator began to get more and more furious, until one point, he was fed up.  He quickly drew out a sword and soon it formed at the feet of one of his stick figures, as it charged for Aurore.  That’ll teach her, no more Mr.Nice GuyTM.  He thought grimly.

Marc, however, was horrified and immediately ran to Aurore.  Marc began to profusely fight the figure but as time went on, his footing got lazier until eventually Marc was knocked on the ground as Aurore was holding off more stick figures.

The stick figure wasted no time in charging forth, extending their sword and raising it above their head.

Nathaniel’s eyes widened as he tried to scream, yet his voice was silenced.  He began trying to erase the stick figures, but lost track of which stick figure was which and who had the sword.

I’m so sorry I failed you, Nathaniel.  Please forgive me.  Marc said, giving up and welcoming death’s embrace.  He closed his eyes and waited.

Yet it never came.

All at once, all of the stick figures began to glitch out and became distorted, and right before the faceless stick figure’s sword came down, a mere inch away from Marc’s eyes, it too froze.  Soon afterwards, each stick figure disappeared, and so did the sword.

Using Evillustrator’s frozen shock to his advantage, Max leaped up and snatched the pen away from him, and Aurore slammed it into two.  Immediately, Evillustrator’s costume dropped as he de-transformed.  Nathaniel stood there, horrified as he took in the site around him, as saw the smashed pen and dead drawing tablet beside him.  He eyes watered as he began to quietly sob, his nose becoming stuffy and his face becoming red.  His shoulders and hands shook as Marc slowly stepped towards him.

“I-I’m so sorry...I’ve d-done horrible horrible things.  I sw-swear I never meant any of it,” he said, as he hiccuped and sniffled.  He then let out a pained sob as Marc immediately embraced him, resting Nathaniel’s head on his shoulder.  Aurore strangled the butterfly in her hands as Max grabbed his previously empty computer case as they shoved it inside.  Aurore and Max began to laugh and cry out of relief as they collapsed in relief on the ground.

“It’s alright, Nathaniel.  I know that wasn’t you just there, and you’re okay now, you’re safe.  I promise you that,” Marc said, brushing away his tears.

“But I let Hawkmoth take advantage of me!  I let him take control!  The things I’ve done are unforgivable-”

“You were manipulated, taken advantage of, and used.  But dwelling on it won’t fix it.  What will help fix is taking Hawkmoth and Mayura down, along with the other villains that are coming to Paris.  Please, Nathaniel we need you.  I need you,” Marc spoke softly.  For a moment, there was silence until...

“I’ll join you,” Nathaniel spoke at last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(⌐■_■)~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-we are living in constant fear, and the heroes have been fighting non-stop since the war began.  Please, we are begging you!.......send help.”

Bruce paused before sighing.  “Was that all of them?” he asked, trying to analyze and break down the information.

“Sure is.  As I said, these claims are getting barbaric.  Anyone can hire an animation studio and editor to make these silly edits, but there hasn’t been any documentation of actual property damage, and look at the Eiffel tower!  It’s being destroyed in every one of these and yet it’s ‘magically’ rebuilt in the next video.  Not to mention, some girl on a teenager’s blog is trying to present herself as a Mary Sue, she’s delusional and stuck in a fantasy to claim that she’s best friends with a superheroes and celebrities.  This has got to be some online joke or trend-”

“But where would these teenagers get the budgets from?  What about the news articles written by adults?” Bruce challenged.

“You can’t seriously think these could be real.  Ladybug and Chat Noir?  Really?  No one’s super powers could reverse the broken arms of people, the ill and the sick, and repair city damage in one fell swoop.  Or better yet, destroy the Eiffel tower with one touch.  It’s CGI, probably funded by those adults too,” Clark countered.

“What about super strength, flight, speed, laser vision?” Bruce argued.

“Supposedly all you have to do to beat these villains is break the options, like a photograph.  So threatening, just terrifying right?” Clark challenged.

“Your weakness if a rock.  A rock.  Is it so far fetched that these could maybe be real?  The Miraculous, Ladybug, Chat Noir, they could easily be real or fake.  We need to do more investigation than this,” Bruce concluded.

“Did someone say the miraculous?” Diana said, freezing in her spot by the doorway.

“Oh wow, looks someone uses the door like a normal person...COUGH COUGH BRUCE COUGH COUGH…”

Diana gave him a stern glare.

“We were just going over video feeds of the current condition of Paris.  Villains like the Joker, Harley Quinn, and Ivy have all been spotted in Paris,” Bruce said, tuning out Clark.

“No, before that you said there was a black cat and ladybug Miraculous?” Diana said, with wide eyes.

“Yes, there were supposedly reports of two...young adults I think?  They were dressed up as vigilantes and were supposedly fighting crime, why do you ask?  Have you heard of them?” Bruce asked.

“Heard of them?  Why my mother grew up telling me stories about her days as the super heroine Ladybug!  Her tales were my bedtime stories for years!” she retold, with a fond look in her eyes.

“Your mother?  That girl looked nothing like Hippolyta, are you sure you’re not mixing it up with something else?” Bruce asked.

“I’m quite sure, after all my mother gave up being Ladybug a long time ago.  The Ladybug Miraculous doesn’t just have a sworn duty to one place, but to the rest of the world.  My mother couldn’t travel to the rest of the world while looking after the amazons, and thus entrusted the miraculous to one of the Guardians,” she spoke.

“Who was is this Guardian?  The Black Cat guy?” Clark questioned.

“Oh heavens no, the Guardians were much much older than that boy is.  These superheroes are powered by an object called the Miraculous, granting each user immense power.  The Guardians are meant to protect these Miraculous, but after the incident at one of the temples...only one of them is still left...but anyways, the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous are extremely powerful, the strongest Miraculous actually,” she explained, while walking over to the video files.

“What do these Miraculous do?” asked Bruce.

“And again, how does that explain the damage to the city?” Clark added.

“Each Miraculous has a different ability; time travel, teleportation, complete destruction, and creation, you name it.  Each Miraculous has a unique ability, that they can only use once.  The Ladybug Miraculous represents luck and has the ability to reverse any Miraculous caused damage.  Buildings, broken bones, illness, you name it.  The only thing the Miraculous of creation and luck can’t reverse is death, for death lies in the hands of the counter partner, the Black Cat,” Wonder Woman said, as she sped up the videos and glimpsed through them.

“The Black Cat represents death and misfortune, and with a simple touch of a hand, entire buildings can collapse and fade to nothing within a second.  If you’re unprotected with a Miraculous suit, the Black Cat’s abilities can kill you in less than a second, and Ladybug won’t be able to reverse that damage.  Each Miraculous, when new, can only use their abilities once in a battle, but as they grow more experienced, can get more abilities or quirks for each battle,” Wonder Woman finished.

“So the reason there is undocumented damage is due to the Ladybug woman?” Bruce finally asked, while side glancing at Clark.

“Precisely, meaning these claims may very well be legitimate.  However, there still isn’t much seen with Gotham’s villains, there are barely any sightings,” Diana added.

“Any lead is still good enough for me,” Bruce said, already getting ready to leave for Paris, and booking an appointment on his phone.  However, he stopped when he looked down to see his phone exploding with phone calls and texts from Alfred.  This of course sent Bruce into a panic, Alfred knew he was going to be out in the suit, and to not call unless there were emergencies.

Quickly, Bruce dialed Alfred back while rushing out the window door.  Immediately, Alfred picked up.

“We are going to have a visitor.  I will be preparing the guest bedroom.  Please arrive immediately, it has to do with the condition of Paris.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~(⌐■_■)~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ll be right, Marinette.  I must go and prepare your room.  Would you like me to prepare you some tea?” Alfred asked, while grabbing her backpack.  He beckoned to the Miracle Box, but Marinette shook her head.  She shook her head, taking the box and placing it in her lap.

“I’ll be alright, you’ve done so much for me already.  I will never be able to repay you for your kindness,” she responded.  Alfred nodded.  As he was about to leave, he got a phone call from Master Bruce.

“Wait right here, I’ll be back soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~(⌐■_■)~~~~~~~~~~~~

Each day was worse than the last.  There were no known leads about the Joker’s whereabouts, and Damian was getting impatient and pent up.  With nowhere else to put his energy, he took Titus out for a run.

Damian knew the Joker was planning something, and it was driving him nuts.  As they strolled around the city, Titus could tell his heart just wasn’t in it and abruptly pulled on his shirt, nearly causing him to fall over.

“What is it, Titus?” Damian asked, before taking notice of the sky.  His father would surely be home by now.  He sighed before changing course, and making his way back home.

When he reached the doorstep, he realized the light was on in the spare bedroom. Strange.  He thought.  Father rarely allows guests over, and always gives them a heads up to be more cautious.

He shrugged as he made his way over to the door.  Suddenly, Titus made a run for it inside and bolted inside towards the living room.

Damian stood up alarmed, ready to attack and dashed around the corner towards the living room.

On the couch, sat a small girl clutching a box.  Her hair was a dreadful mess, and her clothes looked tattered and worn out.  She fidgeting on the couch as she looked around and glanced out the window.

Titus ran over and started barking and trying to grab at and bite the strange box.  He could sense something was strange about the girl, something he wasn’t familiar with and it sent him into a frizzy.  It sent the short girl into a frenzy and she instantly grabbed at the box and made a dash for it.  She leaped over the couch and knocked over the lamp next to it.  She looked panicked but was quickly stopped before she reached the door.

She collided with Damian and fell onto the ground with Titus catching up and barking in her ears as she lie on the ground, shaking in fear.  Her eyes were teary and unfocused, almost lost in the moment.  The Miracle Box shook, and the sounds of jewels and valuables sliding around were heard from inside the box. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had attempted to break into the Wayne Manor to steal its valuables, and Damian was sure it wouldn’t be the last.  Titus’s ears were flattened, his tail between his legs, as his eyes were filled with fear and concern.  Damian’s heart clenched at the sight of Titus looking so scared, before his look hardened into a cold glare at the stranger.

“WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” Damian demanded, already posed to attack.  When she didn’t respond, he tried to grab the box while Titus was still barking in her ear, fearful of the stranger.

She froze for only a moment before slamming her elbow into his chin and quickly sidestepping him.  Damian charged, startling her enough to drop the box, hearing her call out :

“TIKKI SP-”

Alfred burst into the room stunning the both of them and separated the two immediately.  Damian was about to lunge before Alfred grabbed him from behind and forcefully pulled him off, and then swiftly grabbed the box and placed it into Marinette’s hands.  He grabbed Damian by the shirt and tugged on Titus’s leash, dragging them both outside of the room.

Tag List :

@kceedraws @resignedcatservant @shamefulllove @emotionalsupportginger @ellerahs @littleredrobinhoodlum @graduatedmelon @mooshoon @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mystery-5-5 @kuroko26 

@tazanna-blythe @friedchickening @crazylittlemunchkin @princertain @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @thornangelic727

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Let me know if I missed anyone and let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list, and which tag list you wanna be added on.  (If you want ALL Maribat content, or just this fic updates.)

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 16/?

May I? - 16/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @tinakolesnik​ 

Faith was distraught.

One minute she's curled up beside Data, falling asleep and the next she woke up groggy and disoriented in a strange room. 

It was a surprisingly nice room, with a large bed and all the furnishings of the guest room on a starship. Faith could see the blackness of space outside her window.

As her mind began to clear, she realized with a stab of fear that she was alone.

"Data? Data?!"

She tried to stand but her world spun and she fell back down onto the surprisingly comfortable bed. 

I've been drugged, she realized with a start. 

The after-effects were clear. Her brain felt like it was surrounded by fog and lifting even her hand was a chore.

"What is going on?" she asked herself, trying to remain upright. Even her words were slurred. 

She had to get out of there and find Data. He'd know what to do and more importantly, seeing him would let her know he was safe. She could feel the onset of an anxiety attack, but she pushed it down, repressed it because now was not the time.

The door to her room opened and a man marched in. He was clearly Zibalian and wore expensive-looking clothes, along with an expression of pure delight. He was shorter than her but held himself with such authority that she didn't realize it at first. 

"Hello there. Have a nice nap?" he asked, chuckling at his own joke.

"Who are you and where the hell am I?"

"My dear, I am the Kivas Fajo, at your service." He extended a bow her way as if waiting for recognition.

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"I'm sure Mr. Data has spoken of me before."

Faith felt a sense of dread when he mentioned Data's name. "Can't say that he has."

Fajo paused. "Really? Not once."

"No." Faith forced herself to stand. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"Data is safe and sound, for the time being," Fajo said, folding his hands behind his back. 

"I don't believe you."

"Understandable. I figured you would need a visual."

He removed a remote from his pocket and pressed a button. The wall behind him changed into a view screen and Faith sighed with relief when she saw Data. He seemed unharmed and even turned towards the screen.

She couldn't hear him but the way his lips moved, she knew he had said her name. She made a move towards the screen when Fajo stopped her, throwing his arm around her waist and yanking her to his side.

"See? Completely unharmed. And both of you shall remain that way so long as Data does exactly what I ask of him."

Faith pushed Fajo away. "You have no idea what you've done! When Starfleet hears about this…"

Fajo groaned and waved his hand as he wandered away from her. "You sound just like Data the first time I collected him. Starfleet this and Starfleet that. Let me save you the trouble: they don't know where you are and aren't even looking for you. Neither of you is going anywhere."

"What do you want with us?"

"Nothing with you. Well, almost nothing. I didn't realize how important you could be."

She didn't like the way he sounded or his smirk. Her eyes went back to Data who watched them with his usual unreadable expression. Though his eyes tracked Fajo's movements. 

"See, Data and I have done this dance before. Since he failed to educate you, let me. I am a collector of rare, one-of-a-kind things. I tried to add Data to my collection three years ago and he managed to get me arrested. My collection was seized and I was thrown in prison."

His voice lost its amusement and his expression turned cold. When he looked back at her, there was anger in his eyes.

"Thankfully, it helps to have friends in high places. Well, one friend. I told Data that he would become part of my collection again and I've finally made that possible."

"How? I don't understand."

Fajo clapped. "That I am quite proud of. See while you were all busy searching the Enterprise for whatever was going on, you neglected to search the shuttles. My little friends were able to make some modifications to bring you to the right place at the right time. Then once the backup life supports kicked in, sleepy time for you. It was just lucky Data was powered down at the same time. Although, I've had a string of good luck lately."

"Friends? What friends?"

Fajo smirked and pressed a button on the comm panel on the wall. "Enter."

The doors open, an alien shuffled in carrying a tray. It was the same type of alien they had found aboard the Enterprise, though this one seemed more docile and subdued. 

"Faith, meet the Oz'ods. One of them at least. There are only a few left in existence. They were never really able to sustain their numbers and all but six perished. Their natural cloaking ability makes them hard to detect but I managed. And now, they serve me."

The Oz'od placed the tray of food down on a small table by the bed and remained there, waiting for further instruction.

"Thank you, that'll be all." Fajo waved them off.

The Oz'od shuffled out of the room.

"There's nothing impressive about keeping people as slaves," Faith said angrily. 

"Not slaves, servants. And sometimes trophies."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night."

"I sleep very well, thank you. Now, as I was saying, the Oz'ods are fantastic creatures. In exchange for their continued existence, they do as I say, including infiltrating the Federation's flagship. At first, it was purely to gather information and watch Data." Fajo paused his monologue to smile at Faith. "And then you came along. It was too perfect! I thought about trying to manipulate him into thinking you were working for me all along. But he's too smart for that. This way, I finally had a bargaining chip that would ensure Data did whatever I asked of him."

He began to circle her and Faith remained frozen, arms wrapped around herself. 

"So what? We've just supposed to do everything you say and stay here with you forever?"

Fajo smiled brightly. "Great, you get it."

"That's not going to happen. We're going to get out of here, with or without the Enterprise."

"I doubt Data would even try." Fajo got closer, reaching out to tug on her long braid. "Not if he wants to take care of you."

Anger welled in Faith and she couldn't contain it. The audacity of that man was overwhelming and she threw her elbow back, connecting squarely with his nose.

"Bold of you to assume I need to be taken care of," she snapped.

Fajo swore and drew out a phaser. The next thing she knew a searing pain ripped through her hip and she flew across the room, hitting the soft carpet before rolling into the wall. Through the pain, she lifted her head to stare at the view screen but it had been turned off.

Fajo wiped the blood from his nose, pointing the phaser at her again. "You get one of those," he growled. "Next time I won't be so lenient."

He left her there, curled in excruciating pain. 

Faith was in tears, both from emotion and the physical injury she now had. Every time she tried to move, it got worse and she fell back with a yell. It was like an electric heat coursing through her torso. Carefully, she peeled back the torn part of her jumpsuit to examine the wound. 

The second-degree burn made her panic return. All she could do was lay there hyperventilating. Try as she might, she couldn't take a deep breath, not until she shut her eyes and imagined Data was there with her, talking her through her attack as he had many times before.

The doors opened and the Oz'od from earlier shuffled back in with several items in their hands.

When they approached her, Faith tried to scramble away.

To her surprise, they spoke. Their voice was stilted and raspy, uncomfortable with English. "No harm. Help." 

He reached for her again and Faith fought her instinct to pull away. The Oz'od was surprisingly gentle as he placed a small bowl next to her along with a cloth bandage. In the bowl was a green paste which he began to apply to the burn.

It hurt at first but then it began to cool, easing the pain. Faith relaxed with a sigh, face streaked with tears.

"T-Thank you," she croaked.

"Me Soshi."

"I'm Faith."

He finished putting the paste on then sealed it with a bandage. "Fajo fine if you no fight."

"Fajo needs a fucking dose of reality," Faith said, smoothing her torn jumpsuit over the bandage. "How long have you guys been with him?"

"Two years. We would die alone."

"Starfleet can help you. And you wouldn't have to serve anyone."

Soshi hesitated, looking around as if they were afraid Fajo was watching. Faith wondered if he was somehow. "We like Fajo. Fajo protect Oz'ods."

Faith made a move to stand and Soshi helped her. "It's not protection, it's exploitation." It was a painful trek across the room back to the bed. When she finally made it, she eased herself down, wincing as her hip ached.

Soshi gathered their first aid supplies. "Eat food. Soshi made. Good and fresh."

They then left her alone. Faith poked at the tray but didn't feel even remotely hungry. She had no idea how she could escape her room or get to Data. She doubted she'd be able to overpower Fajo again. But Data could. She imagined he hadn't to spare her any pain from their captor.

If I could just get to him…

After her little stunt, that would probably be impossible.

Faith laid down on her uninjured side, watching the stars outside her window. If he really wanted Data for his collection, he wouldn't do anything to him. She had to believe that. The only thing she could think to do was nothing.

Literally, nothing. She wasn't going to eat anything they brought her and if Fajo came in, she wouldn't even look at him, let alone talk to him.

Eventually, she dozed off. 

It was a long time before anyone came to see her again. Soshi brought her another meal to replace the one she hadn't touched but did not say anything. When they replaced that meal as well, they spoke up.

"Faith must eat."

"I'm not eating anything."

"No like food? Want other food?"

"Fajo can force me to stay here but that's it. I'm not eating or drinking. He thinks I'm a bargaining chip, fine! Good luck trying to get Data to do what he wants if something happens to me."

Soshi looked scared and hurried out of the room. She suspected they had to report back to Fajo. She hoped he wouldn't take it out on them.

After the fifth untouched meal, Fajo stomped into her room. "Why must you both make this so difficult?" he asked, hands on his hips like a petulant child.

Faith could see his reflection in the window. She did not answer.

"I know you're not asleep. Answer me! What's wrong with you?"

Her only response was silence. 

"Oh for goodness sake!" Fajo moved to the other side of the bed, snapping his fingers to get her attention. "Earth to the human!"

She flipped him the bird.

"Oh, that's nice. Very lady-like." He softened his tone. "Come on, eat something. Pretty please?"

She turned her back on him. Fajo huffed and walked around the other side of the bed again. "You two are so damn difficult!"

"Because you're keeping us against our will, you jag!"

He reached for his phaser and despite herself, she flinched. "Watch it," he warned.

"How do I even know Data is okay?" she asked, heart aching for the android. She had been so worried about him. "You showed me one image and nothing else. For all I know I'm all alone here."

Fajo took a deep breath as if to recollect himself. "Lucky for you, I'm a merciful man." He walked over to the door and opened it.

To her relief, Data entered. He wore a hideous purple jumpsuit which obviously wasn't by choice. Regardless, when she saw him, Faith felt her body release its tension. She forced herself out of bed, stumbling as they hurried to embrace. 

"Thank the stars you're alright!" she said.

"I am fine. Are you?"

"I am now."

Data looked at Fajo. "May we have privacy?"

Fajo put his hands up as he backed out of the room. "Five minutes. We have that dinner with the Vangar delegates and we have to go over talking points."

Data nodded in understanding. As soon as Fajo left Faith asked, "You're going along with him?"

"For now," Data said, stroking her cheek. "I do not wish for him to hurt you again. Striking him was not a smart idea."

"I know. But it felt really good."

He gave her a small smile before hugging her once more. "Please do not attempt to harm him again. He has a personal force field activated that will harm you significantly. I suspect he did not think he would need to use it around you."

"His mistake. I take it that's why you haven't overpowered him."

"You are correct. Why will you not eat?"

"Passive resistance."

"Please eat. You will need your strength if we are to plan our escape."

"Data, how the hell are we going to get out of here?"

"I do not know yet. But I will find a way. In the meantime, do not underestimate Fajo. He will not hesitate to harm or kill. I have seen him do both."

A shiver ran down Faith's spine and she suddenly realized how lucky she had been to only receive a blaster to the hip.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm trying to be a brave Starfleet officer but deep down I'm terrified."

Data cupped her face. "I will not let harm come to you. I will do as he says in the hope he leaves you be. However, I do not know if Fajo will allow another meeting between us. He only allowed this one when I negotiated for it."

"Kiss me then. I need to feel your lips."

He did, deeply. Faith kissed him back, not knowing when or even if she'd see him again. She couldn't bear to let him go.

"Alright, alright, break it up." Fajo's voice ruined the moment. "You'll decrease his value."

Faith glared at him but Data's hand fell to her lower back which calmed her down.

"Actually, Fajo, I believe Faith would only enhance my image to your friends."

Both of them looked at him in confusion. Though, Fajo looked entirely too interested in the notion. "How so?"

"I am the only sentient android in the galaxy. I possess no emotions and yet have found myself a romantic partner," Data explained. "I believe some would find that interesting."

Faith suddenly realized what Data was doing. He was trying to devise a way to satisfy Fajo's weird fixation while also keeping Faith close and extend their time together. 

She loathed the thought of having to sit through a dinner with rich creepy people she didn't know. But if it meant she could remain at Data's side, she'd bite her tongue and force a smile.

Fajo pointed at Data. "I see what you're trying to do," he said. "Oh, I forgot how clever you could be." He pondered Data's suggestion, looking Faith up and down. Finally, he clapped excitedly. "This will be so much better! Yes! Let's get your little girlfriend all gussied up for dinner. You two are going to make a splash!" He went to the door and waved Data over. "Come, Data. Let's go find something for her to wear while she washes up. She clearly needs it."

Faith took an angry step towards Fajo but Data held her back. 

"Perhaps I should stay to ensure she is made aware of her expectations," he suggested.

Fajo's smile faded. "I am being very generous, all things considered. Do not test me."

She could sense Data's disappointment but he didn't seem to want to push his luck. Not after seeing how Fajo hurt her so easily. 

"Very well," he said.

Fajo was delighted. "Had I known you would be so agreeable this way I would have kidnapped someone close to you the first time! Now, when we meet with the delegates, remember to tell them how we first met…"

Data followed him out of the room, casting Faith a reassuring nod before the doors closed. 

Thrown by the turn of events, she shuffled over the end of the room which had a partition for privacy. Behind it was a toilet, sink, and tiny shower stall that she could barely fit into. She turned the shower on and tested the water. Thankfully it was hot.

She peeled her torn clothes and bandage off before stepping into the stall. The water felt wonderful and she washed hours worth of sweat and tears away. The paste on her wound washed off as well, leaving smooth, fresh skin with no burn in sight. Her hip still ached however and probably would for a while.

Once she had washed up, Faith stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself. 

There was nothing for her to change into yet so she tried to comb her hair out with her fingers as she waited.

By the time they came back, her hair had dried into its natural thick waves. 

"Wear this," Fajo ordered, handing her a folded gown of deep purple. It complimented the jumpsuit Data wore except it was made of soft silk. 

Faith stepped behind the partition again and slipped into the dress. It was far too tight and showed too much skin for her liking. Her cleavage was on full display and the skirt's slit went almost to her thigh.

The shoes were worse. God awful heels that hurt her feet. She'd rather be barefoot. But she had to play her part just as Data played his.

When she stepped back out, Data's eyes went wide. He seemed to eye her with appreciation which did make her feel a little better. Only a little.

"Marvelous, breathtaking," Fajo said. "You clean up well. Data was sure you'd protest showing so much skin but we want to really wow everyone. Come come, give us a spin."

Faith clenched her jaw and spun in a slow circle. 

"Wonderful. Now, we mustn't keep our guests waiting for too long. Data remembers quite clearly what happened the last time he failed to entertain my friends. Come along you two." Fajo made a move to leave before turning back. "Oh, and if you could smile, Faith, you'd look so much prettier."

If Faith could rip out his throat she would. 

She slid her arm around Data's as they followed Fajo out of her room. "Imma kill him. I swear," she muttered so softly only he could hear it.

Data leaned in close. "Starfleet officers do not condone homicide."

"This one does."

Data sighed, bringing his free hand up to rest over hers. "Faith…"

"I know, I know. I was kidding. Mostly."

"No whispering you two!" Fajo barked over his shoulder. 

The halls of the ship were more standard than Faith expected. Clearly, Fajo liked the finer things in life. She expected his ship to reflect as much. But it seemed to be made more for function than comfort.

They arrived at the dining hall and he led them in with a bright smile.

"Kornok, Dulcer, Enil! My friends!" he greeted the three slender looking aliens with comically large round eyes and squared heads.

"Fajo!" The shortest of the three, Kornok, said as he approached the other man. "It has been far too long!"

Data and Faith hung back as Fajo made his greetings and small talk. The Vangar kept looking at them with interest until the female Dulcer pushed past Fajo and approached.

"Now what have we here?" she asked, circling the couple.

"My dear friends, meet the first in my new collection," Fajo said proudly. "Lieutenant Commander Data, the first and only sentient android in existence."

"Fascinating!" Kornok exclaimed and Dulcer continued her scrutiny. 

"Hello," Data said dutifully. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

"My, how well he speaks!" Dulcer exclaimed. 

Faith clutched Data's arms tighter when she realized Enil was staring at her in an almost leering way.

"And the girl?" Enil asked.

"Oh, you'll get a kick out of this," Fajo said. "Faith is Mr. Data's girlfriend."

The Vangar began whispering excitedly in another language and suddenly all three were circling Faith and Data with rapt attention.

"A girlfriend? The android has a girlfriend?"

"Fascinating! But he doesn't have emotions! How does that work?"

"Is there an intimate nature to the relationship?"

Faith was already hating everything about the situation. The last question was asked by Enil and made Data speak up.

"That question is inappropriate," he said. "I do not mind answering questions that do not pertain to the intimacy of my relationship with Faith."

You tell him, babe, Faith thought to herself.

"Modesty! I love it!" Kornok laughed. 

Fajo laughed as well. "Come now, let's eat! We can discuss more over food. I'm sure you're all ravenous."

The three wandered away from the couple, firing all sorts of questions at Fajo as they took their seats.

"This is going to suck," Faith muttered as she and Data followed.

"Yes. Yes it will."

[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 5 - The Devil in Me

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

The second part of a gap fill for 1x13, Poison. TW for illness, hospitals, and drug mentions. Also super minor character death? 

After JJ, Reid, and Hotch learn a little more about Kit's family, the nurse-out-of-water feels the effects of the field crash over her. As she and Gideon continue to butt heads, she wonders how this is ever going to work. She's helpful in her own right, but if she can't get the respect and the support of the whole team, how will she ever belong?

The ride to the hotel was comfortable enough. Reid and Kit sat in the back while JJ sat in the passenger seat, and the communications liaison took her chance to pick and pry when Kit couldn’t escape her questions. She’d been trying since the moment Kit had been shuffled onto their team, but Kit had been able to avoid it thus far. She hated ‘get to know you’ questions, as they reminded her of terrible high school teachers and their lack-luster ice breakers.

“So, Kit, do you have siblings?”

Kit nodded, though the woman couldn't see her. She’d play along, of course, and this was an easy question. She loved talking about her siblings.

“Oh, yeah. There’s nine of us.”

Reid made a sound next to her that sounded like choking, but when she looked he wasn’t dying. He was instead, astonished.

“Nine?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, “nine.”

Hotch knew that, he’d read her file, but he asked anyway, “What number are you?”

“Five,” Kit said before smiling, “sort of? There’s Wash, and then Ginny and Seese. Ari, and Monty, and I. Then George, and Alex, and Lina’s the baby.”

“That puts you sixth,” Reid said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Kit was suddenly ten years old.

Didn’t we just have a pseudo heart-to-heart about being treated like a child?

Kit tried not to roll her eyes before she remembered that the only one who knew about Ari and Monty was Morgan. And, probably Hotch, of course.

“Ari and Monty and I are triplets,” she said evenly, “and technically, I was born second of the three of us.”

“Wow,” JJ said, “triplets? I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

“It’s great, actually,” Kit assured, not being able to stop the spreading smile on her face. “We get along really well. Monty and I are actually monozygotic twins, which means-”

“Monozygotic twins, often called identical twins, are the result of one egg fertilized by one sperm that experiences postzygotic division.”

Reid’s voice was rougher than before, telling of the fact that the medicine she’d given him had worn off, as he effectively cut her off. She tried not to take offense at him interrupting her and telling her about her own fetal development. He’d interrupted others in several conversations. Regardless, she felt her lips tug into a frown.

“Exactly. My Gran used to say that Monty and I have twin souls, though my mam and dad have always said that Ari was one half of the soul, and we were the other half, you know, together.”

JJ turned all the way around in her seat, grinning as she listened to Kit speak of her family.

“So, Ari and Monty are nicknames, right?”

Kit nodded again, frown dissipating.

“Right. My parents immigrated from Ireland, and they spoke Irish, or Gaelic, better than English. They wanted to stick out less, or so they say, so they, well,” she thought for a moment before she couldn’t stop the small giggle forcing its way up her throat. “They thought it would be a really good idea to name their kids after the states. Like, literal American states.”

“Like Dakota,” Hotch offered, and Kit wrinkled her nose. 

“Yeah, like Dakota. My family all call me Kody, but I prefer Kit.”

“And Monty is, what? Montana?” JJ asked, now looking determined. As if it was some kind of game.

Kit nodded again, saying, “Exactly. The thing is that some states, like thankfully Dakota, are names. But some…” She shrugged lightly, “Not so much.”

“Can I guess?”

JJ, not surprising to Kit, was giving off a competitive energy that would rival the one she got off Morgan the few times they’d raced at the track.

“She could just tell us,” Reid offered, but JJ just scoffed.

“No way, Spence. You’re just afraid you’re going to lose.”

Reid narrowed his eyes at her, and though Kit could feel his slight trembling next to her, fever burning once again, she knew he wasn’t going to back down. He even gave her and JJ half a smirk before saying, “You’re on.”

In the end, it was Hotch that came up with a surprising upset. Reid was vehemently denying that ‘Seese’ was a nickname for Tennessee, and JJ was still upset that Reid won the “guess what number I’m thinking of” game and got to go first.

“No way that’s fair,” she’d complained when Reid gave a small, raspy noise of victory and guessed that Wash was short for Washington, obviously.

Hotch had gotten lucky and gone second, securing that George was actually Kit’s younger sister, Georgia, and had gotten that Lina was Carolina, the baby of their very large family.

“You went after Carolina right away, Hotch,” JJ said, laughing at Reid’s dejected mumbling. That was the second time he’d lost a game that day.

“Familiar territory.”

“Is that so?” Kit asked, raising an eyebrow at the stern man in the driver’s seat. “Did you work in their field office?”

“No, I worked in their Walmart,” he said simply, turning into the parking lot of their hotel. He didn’t add or give any more about it, and they didn’t pry, though Kit had to fight a grin at the idea that their stern unit chief could be secretly southern.

-----

Hotch checked in and passed them their keys, Kit taking hers with slightly wide eyes. She’d only stayed in a hotel a few times, and the idea that she was now left to her own devices in a hotel she’d never been in, in a state she didn’t know, really got her mind racing. She realized quickly that no one else was feeling the anxiety she was. They were all familiar with this, and it seemed to be easy for them to turn off the part of their brain that was working on the case.

Instead, she was running her brain, trying to think of anything she knew that could help them catch the unsub that was hurting these people. She dealt in people. People were her thing. People were the reason she had been assigned to the pilot position she was in. The reason she was in New Jersey when she could just as easily be home, getting ready for bed while she listened to Ari sing around their apartment as he got ready for his shift. 

They would give the profile. The team would give the profile and she would watch with JJ. She would try to help however she was asked, and she would keep an eye on Reid while being sensitive to not treat him like a child. 

She followed JJ and Reid up to their floor, Hotch having stayed to give the others their keys, and nodded and responded politely when JJ had wished her goodnight. Reid hadn’t done as much, though she had missed his attempt to get her attention before she’d closed her door behind her.

Once inside she drew what could have passed for her first real breath all day. Between Reid’s sniffling, apologizing to Morgan, the jet, the hospital, taking care of Reid without making him feel like a child, and tiptoeing around Gideon- Which didn’t even work! - Kit was stretched too thin. With the door shut, the only emotions she could pick up on were her own. Which, honestly, we’re never just her own.

Ari and Monty called them Big Feelings; them being the swelling and surging of her own emotions that were kept buried to grow as the day went on. She could tend to the needs of others and keep her own feelings in check, but the thing about Kit was that the more she dealt with others, the more the feelings being buried in her chest compounded. Try as she might, she couldn’t really differentiate between what she created herself and what she took from others. 

Most days were perfectly fine. It wasn’t like everyone around her was melting down simultaneously, every single day. But some days, when there’d been so much and there were so many people and so many situations, she absolutely crashed.

In retrospect, she held on for longer than she thought she would, the deep, even breaths she was drawing distracting her from the energy that built. Her fingers working to unzip her go bag. She pulled out her pajamas, shedding her jacket and cardigan before making her way to take a shower. 

She took out her contacts. Shed the rest of her clothes. Took her shower. Brushed her teeth. Braided her hair. 

She kept her breathing even through every motion, changing into her pajamas and settling cross legged on the bed. Her fingers of her right hand tapped lightly on her thigh while the fingers of her left pulled tightly at her braided, sopping wet hair. The right braid was dripping clean shower water onto her shoulder, the left sending a slow cascade of water down her arm. She sat for five minutes that way, breathing evenly, staring at the blurry white wall in front of her and willing herself not to crash. Not to crash. Not to crash.

And then, she crashed.

All at once, everything in her body felt like it was vibrating. Her breaths came in hitches that were shallow and choppy, her chest heaving sharply with each one. Nothing like the pace she’d been trying to keep for that last fifteen minutes. They sputtered and cut each other off, tears running down her cheeks and falling in large drops, adding to where her braids had already left dark wet spots on her pale yellow tee shirt. 

It wasn’t loud. It had never been loud, regardless of the way her mind seemed to be screaming. She was way too warm, warmer than she had been in the steaming water of the shower. Her chest ached with a flurry of feelings that flashed and passed so quickly she couldn’t hope to name them. It left her helpless, hands clenching and unclenching, fingers occasionally scratching up and down her arms or thighs. The emotional overload left her with internal mania and, other than her fingers roaming and tears flowing, external shutdown. She didn’t have to bury anymore. The emotional zombies of the last eighteen hours could come to light.

Ari always let her come down on her own time. Sometimes he held her tightly, and sometimes he left her to her own devices. Most of the time he stayed in the same space. On the couch opposite her. Sat at the kitchen table as she sat on the counter. Cross legged at the end of her bed.  He didn’t try to have her put the thoughts or emotions into words. He didn’t press her or tell her it would be okay. That she was okay, because really, she wasn’t. He just let it pass. 

She knew it could be as short as ten minutes or as long as forty five. One time, an hour, but that was the first time she’d lost a patient. The time didn’t matter as much to her. Ten or sixty, the number of minutes always felt like an eternity. She didn’t know how long it would take this time, sat in a New Jersey hotel room. Especially when on top of everything else, she felt so completely alone.

As far as Kit was aware, it could have been seven minutes or seven hours when the thing that finally grounded her back to the real world was a steady three-wrap knock at her door. Her hands stilled instantly, the deepest breath she’d taken since the wave crashed over her almost making her dizzy. 

Her head swiveled towards the door, and it was a moment before her mind could catch up. She was in her hotel room. Someone was knocking on the door.

Get up and open it. Come on, Kody. Stand up and open the door.

She swallowed thickly, wiping a shaking hand down her face. The bed was close to the door, and while she sat staring at the door, the knock came again. Three wraps in rapid succession. Her brain started to catch up, the distraction pulling her out of the waves she was drowning in.

Hotch? Could it be Hotch? Did someone actually get poisoned this late at night? Gideon was right, she shouldn’t have said anything. Now it was going to be her fault and there would be disappointment and anger and annoyance and-

Stop.

It took longer than it should have for her to pull herself off of the mattress, shaking her head quickly as if to expel the internal debate. Everything in her chest told her not to get up, but her head won and allowed her to quickly scramble from her spot and pad across the room. 

In hindsight, she should have checked to make sure she didn’t look like a complete disaster. She never had to worry about that at home, so it hadn’t crossed her mind how she might be perceived as she stood there; pajamas on, wet hair, flushed, tear tracks and red eyes against shaky pale skin. 

She squinted at the person on the other side of the door once she all but flung it open. Tall. Dark hair. Tee shirt. Skinny. To her untrained and straining eyes, she was unsure who she was looking at.

Before the other person could speak she held up her hand, still trembling, and turned to dig in her backpack. The glasses she pulled out were seldom used, but she had lost a contact on three separate occasions in the last year, and she wasn’t going to fly half-blind into a crisis. 

She turned, unceremoniously shoving the thin frames onto her face, and looked at her offender.

Spencer Reid. Pale as ever, clearly fever flushed, and looking at her with glassy-eyed concern.

“Are you crying?” is what he ended up asking before stifling a raspy coughing fit into his elbow. 

Kit narrowed her burning eyes at him, but there were no lasers in her stare. Confusion, and exasperation, but not the lasers she’d set on him all those hours before.

“Do you need something? I thought you went to bed.”

He cleared his throat and winced, swallowing as if it was physically painful before he came up with, “I did. I was. Um, I mean, I was try-trying to? I, um.” 

His hands came up to wring together at waist height, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. Uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable. Probably from having come into her personal space where she was very obviously having a very private meltdown.

“You were trying to… oh.” It took longer for her to piece together than it should have. Her mind was still foggy, trying to stay above the waves she’d just been so jarringly pulled from. “You were trying to sleep and you couldn’t.”

“Yes,” he supplied quickly, “Because, well,” he sighed, a hand going to run through his hair. He curled his arms over his chest then, clearing his throat again. “Because my head is pounding and I’m freezing and my throat hurts. And the stuff you had earlier helped. And I was… I was wondering if-”

She did cut him off now, having been careful not to up to that point, but she could feel his discomfort growing the longer he tried to explain himself. He was struggling to be vulnerable, and she wasn’t going to make it worse by allowing him to trip over himself longer than necessary.

“If I had more.”

“Yes.” 

“Of course I do, sit down,” she supplied, gesturing awkwardly to the bed she’d just been sat on, taking a breath and straightening her shoulders. 

She never had to turn back on after she’d let herself shut down. It was always, always in times where she knew she could be either asleep or a zombie for the rest of the night, and she was trying to fight back to functioning as she dug through her backpack once more.

She heard him take a moment before settling down on the bed, sniffling a few times in a way that made Kit want to scream, but instead just caused her to dig more frantically. 

Blue pills. Blue pills. Come on, Dakota, where are they? Why is your bag such a mess? Why are you such a mess? Reid probably thinks you can’t handle this, and how he’s going to tell Gideon, and they’re going to tell Hotch, and-

“Are you okay?”

Her hands froze in between a wrist brace and a bottle of ibuprofen. 

“Yes,” she said evenly, though her whole body tensed, “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” he said quietly, “You’re breathing picked up, and when you answered the door, you were crying. And the longer you look through your backpack the more agitated you seem.”

It was quiet for a moment. Kit didn’t resume her digging, but instead turned to face Reid at his spot atop her bed. 

“What happened to not profiling one another?” She asked after a moment. 

His eyebrows pulled together, searching for a moment before his head tilted, tongue flicking over chapped lips before he offered, “It’s okay if this is hard. Gideon always says that-”

“It’s not,” she said, effectively cutting him off for the second time in the five minutes he’d been in her room. She didn’t care at all what Gideon always said.

He looked unconvinced, suspicion flooding off of him, in addition to the sick feeling he’d already been sending her way. 

She could feel her hands clenching, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

He has no idea. He has no idea so you can’t be upset with him. He doesn’t know anything about you. He probably thinks you’re just as incompetent as Gideon does. Don’t give him any fuel for the fire.

“It’s not hard,” she said, just a bit softer than before. “I’m perfectly capable, and I’m tired. Here.” 

She turned and pulled the blue blister pack out of her backpack, hand suddenly knowing exactly where it was.

Naturally.

“Take these. I’ll give you the other ones in the morning.”

Reid looked down at the pills for a moment before he worried at his lip, eyes nervous as he asked, “You’re really not going to tell Hotch?”

“No, Reid, I’m really not going to tell Hotch. And I won’t tell Gideon either. No one knows. Go to sleep.”

She watched as he took a moment before nodding at her, standing up and heading for the door. He was halfway through before he turned and shifted his weight on his feet.

“Dakota?”

I might kill this one. Just this one.

“Reid?”

“Thank you,” he said softly, “again. I’m sorry that I intruded.”

She watched him for a moment before she shook her head. She realized that the trembling had stopped, and she didn’t feel as foggy anymore. Having a distraction, even if the distraction sniffled and asked probing questions and used her first name, it had helped.

She let herself give him a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s okay, that’s why I’m here. Get some sleep.”

He nodded gently, returning her half smile with one of his own.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She watched as he closed the door, the room becoming isolated again. She settled back on the bed, only allowing herself to be lost for a moment before she shut the light out.

-----

“We believe whoever poisoned these people was motivated by revenge,” Hotch was saying. They’d met early to give the profile, but it was later than they’d wanted when they were finally able to gather all the officers. 

They were all pushed to one side of the room, sitting on various surfaces or standing in the middle where they could easily be seen. Kit had sat on top of the desk Reid was sitting in, wordlessly pressing a cup of tea into his slightly trembling hands. They’d found a moment when they weren’t being watched for her to slip the pills into his hand, but she’d only been able to find a drink just before Hotch had begun.

Morgan was continuing what Hotch had started, and Reid took the moment to slip the medication into his mouth, chasing it with a too-large sip of too-hot tea. Kit had to hold her snicker at the face he pulled.

“The randomness of the victimology - average people in an average-sized town... All points to a local resident.”

“We know that people who poison for the purpose of revenge primarily act alone,” Elle continued. 

“However,” Hotch added, “he may have manipulated someone close to him to assist him. The unsub usually disposes of these accomplices when they're of no further use to him.”

Kit listened as they bounced around, all taking a part of the profile to deliver. She paid attention as closely as she could, taking in everything that was being said, and wishing that she could be able to see what they all saw.

She focused on Reid saying, ”This individual was savvy enough to use rohypnol to obstruct our investigation, erasing the memories of the victims of how they were poisoned,” and she felt herself nodding along with him, listening closely to his voice and watching to see if anyone had picked up on what she’d been trying to help him mask. 

So far her efforts seemed successful, and she let herself feel good about that. She could take care of this team. Hotch’s faith was well placed.

She focused back on the profile again, her heart sinking when the emotions in the room shifted dramatically. Gideon had said that a lot of people could die, and everyone had flooded the room with varying levels of anxiety. 

A lot of people could die, and they had limited time to find him.

JJ came up behind them, drawing the attention of the profilers around her. She whispered quietly to Hotch, though it was quiet everywhere now, and her words caused quick movement in every body that filled the small room.

“We have a leak.”

The small television in the station was turned on immediately, grainy and nearly not loud enough for them all to hear. 

“That's right, Steve. Neighbors became aware something was wrong when a local Beechwood restaurant closed early. From inside sources, we learned that representatives of the CDC began testing food inside the restaurant.”

Gideon spoke over the woman for a moment, a wave of agitation flying off of him. “If you're gonna report the story, name the restaurant.”

“Unconfirmed, we were told that some of the food had been tainted with hallucinogenic drugs,” the reporter continued, and Kit understood exactly what Gideon meant. 

“Name the restaurant,” he said again, and Kit found herself standing from her spot atop the desk. Spencer raised an eyebrow at her, but she gravitated towards the TV wordlessly.

“Until we do confirm all of this, we will not release the name of the restaurant. We'll only say it's a Beechwood area favorite. This is Suzanne Whang reporting live from Beechwood. Back to you, Steve.”

“Damn it,” Kit said forcefully, surprising herself a bit at the venom in her words. She rarely swore in English, and she went a bit pink at the thought that Irish would have probably been a more appropriate choice. 

Gideon was glaring daggers at her, not really looking like he cared much what she had said, but that she’d spoken at all.

“They didn't name the restaurant,” JJ said, not paying attention to anyone else. She sounded dejected, but kept her tone more even than Kit had. 

“What is it?” Detective Hanover said, looking confused.

“Call the local hospital, make sure they know what's coming. Excuse me,” Gideon said. Kit started to move before she realized he had been talking to JJ. 

Heat welled inside of her. He was asking JJ to contact the hospital when she was standing right there. She understood, of course, that JJ’s job was communication, but she was the one that had been running point with the hospital. Especially the day before, when she and Reid had nearly spent the whole day there. The pink of her face flushed to red, and her hands clenched.

“Where do your 911 calls get routed?” Hotch asked Hanover. His calm determination set her straight back into the throws of what was happening. The restaurant. No name given. People were going to freak out, no doubt in her mind. 

“There's a county phone bank. They contact first responders, the fire department.”

“Alert them, too. They're going to need additional personnel and any other backup you've got. Auxiliary cops. You're going to have to call them.” 

“But, why?”

Though Hotch was stoic and calm, Kit could feel the tense energy he now had. It would be a mess to get everything under control once the storm hit. 

“Because we're going to have a heck of a time just calming people down and we really don't need the confusion to interfere with our investigation,” Hotch answered, calm never failing. 

“Do you want me to start making those calls?” An officer asked readily, and Kit watched as that set Hanover right off the edge. 

He moved to the center of the room and started yelling, hands in the air.

Here we go.

“No, no, no, no. Hey, hey! Everybody please shut up for a minute. Tell me what this is all about.” 

There was a moment where everything stopped. JJ stood with the phone at her ear. All eyes were on Hanover, mostly surprise and confusion around them. 

Then the phones started. They all rang, loud and overlapping, deafening almost everything else in the air. 

There was a moment before Gideon simply said, “Panic.”

It took a moment for there to be any sort of control. People were answering phones left and right, including Kit, who was back at the desk she and Reid had started in.

“We can’t comment at this time, thank you,” she said for at least the fifth time, hanging the phone up and looking at Reid.

“How are you doing?”

“I’ll be far better when this is over,” he said, taking a sip from the tea she knew was probably now lukewarm at best. He got up and they moved to where JJ and Hotch were, following the lead of Elle and Morgan. 

“I just got off with the hospital. They're swamped with over 50 potential poisonings from local restaurants, but no hallucinations,” JJ said, hanging up the phone and looking around.

“Another poisoning?” Morgan asked.

“Or maybe more hysteria,” Hotch

“We've looked into any civil or criminal complaints from employees, ex-employees, Suppliers, regulars at the cafe. Not one good lead,” Hanover said. 

He was dejected. The inability to control what was happening to his own town was what Kit guessed had him giving off such a feeling of hopelessness.

“There's got to be somebody connected to that cafe who pops as a suspect,” Gideon said, rifling through some papers.

“Morgan, you wanna go back there, see if we can find another angle?” Elle suggested.

“Couldn’t hurt,” he said. 

The two of them turned to leave, and Hotch looked at the three still standing there. “JJ, you, Colghain, and Reid go to the hospital. See if any of the poisonings seem legit.”

-----

When they got to the hospital, JJ and Reid both waited for a moment outside the door. Kit stopped in her tracks, following their lead. There was an awkward moment before she said,

“What are we waiting for? Is someone meeting us?”

JJ shook her head, giving Kit a small smile.

“We’re following you. I made contact with the hospital, but I’m not sure exactly who is the best point of contact in an ER overrun like this. I assumed you do.”

Kit couldn’t help but give a small smile at the warmth that flooded her chest at those words. She and JJ hadn’t talked a lot, but between their guessing game in the car the night before, and the even temper and apt social skills she showed, Kit really respected and liked her. She was good to work with, and clearly knew how to read a room.

“I do. Stay out of the way as best you can and stay close, there will definitely be gurneys going in and out.”

They walked in, flashing their badges as they crossed back into the busy ER. There were gurneys as Kit had predicted, and she was almost overwhelmed by the amount of panic flooding the small ER hallway they found themselves in. She could feel JJ and Reid close to her, and she stopped the first nurse she saw.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Colghain with the FBI,” she said quickly, using a different title than she normally would. The nurse was holding a file, she didn’t have the moment Kit needed to assure her competence.

“The FBI has nurses?” The young nurse said, clearly a little skeptical, but antsy as she glanced towards her assumed destination.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kit said, speaking as she would to any of her nurses back at the clinic. “Where can I find your Head?”

“Nurses’ Station. Nurse Leah. Tall, dark hair. Excuse me.” She scampered off, but Kit had all she needed.

She led JJ and Spencer to the Nurses’ Station and spotted a tall, dark haired woman who was exuding calm, though just beneath it was clear uncertainty. 

“That’s her,” she said to Reid and JJ without turning around. “Excuse me,” she said louder, “Nurse Leah?”

The woman turned, searching for a moment before she spotted the out-of-place agents.

“Yes? Who are you?”

“I’m Nurse Cloghain with the FBI. This is Agent Jareau and Doctor Reid. Can we have a minute?”

Nurse Leah shook her head quickly, scowling a bit as the three agents bellied up to the Nurse’ Station wall.

“I really can't talk right now. We just got hammered,” she said, starting to walk away.

“Listen,” Kit said, moving to follow her, “most of these food poisonings are probably psychosomatic.”

“What makes you think that?” Nurse Leah said, her attitude changing to one of skepticism and annoyance.

“A news broadcast just reported a local restaurant was poisoned. Now, it would be a huge coincidence if there was another poisoning right after that aired,” JJ said, her voice shifting from the friendliness she’s used outside the hospital door to the political tightness she used with reporters.

“So what do you want me to do?” Nurse Leah said, her eyes darting between them.

“Help us find out which cases, if any, are real,” Reid said, posture straight, not a tremble in sight. He either felt great, or he was masking incredibly well.

“People are coming in with all kinds of complaints,” she said, “But, there's at least one case that isn't psychosomatic. She's barely breathing.”

Reid’s eyebrows pulled together, “Can you take us to the doctor that's treating that patient?”

Nurse Leah nodded, moving to take them with her. Reid and Kit moved to follow, but JJ started to walk away.

“I'll call Hotch,” she assured, and the two others nodded, letting her disappear down the hallway.

The doctor they were passed off to took them down the hallway and towards the patient’s room, talking all the while.

“When the patient got here, she didn't remember anything about her day. And her speech was so slurred, I could barely understand her.” He said. His body language was favored toward Reid once he’d been introduced as “Doctor,” but they hadn’t gotten to clarify that he was not that kind of doctor. Still, Kit hoped his genius brain could make connections faster than her medically inclined one could.

“It sounds like rohypnol,” Reid said, “Did you test her?”

They walked into the patient's room and Kit’s eyes went wide. She was coughing desperately, the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth doing little to prevent it.

“She was positive for rohypnol, negative for LSD. But, we're running more tests because rohypnol alone doesn't explain her symptoms. She presented with nausea, difficulty swallowing, labored breathing. She was also having trouble moving her legs.”

“How long had she been sick?” JJ asked.

“She didn't know. I could barely understand her when she first got her. Now, she can't speak at all.”

“And she’d been coughing like that the whole time?” Kit asked, glancing to the bed. Her heart ached at the panic she felt coming from the ill woman.

“Yes, consistently.”

“Do you know any biological agents that have similar symptoms: Ricin, Sarin gas?” Reid asked quietly, his back turned to the bed.

“You think this is a biological attack?” The doctor said, keeping his expression even.

“We can't rule anything out,” Reid said, eyebrows raised and arms crossed firmly over his middle. 

The doctor took a moment before he said, “I'll order a few more tests.”

Hotch arrived not very long after, meeting Kit, Reid, and JJ outside of the patient, Lynn Dempsey’s room. They bounced around ideas, but nothing seemed to stick. At one point Kit used “finding the restroom” as an excuse to dig out more pills for Reid, and the two of them did a seamless pass off in front of the decrepit coffee machine. 

It wasn’t twenty minutes before there was a call for Hotch, the unit chief pulling the phone to his ear.

“Morgan, it's Hotch. What's up?”

JJ’s voice came out sharp, having been looking into Ms. Dempsey’s room. “Guys, I think she's trying to say something.”

The three of them flooded into her room, getting close to the bed as she leaned towards them.

“The en,” she said. Her voice carried almost no weight, though the urgency was obvious. 

“The end?” JJ asked, looking at Reid and Kit. Kit shook her head, and Reid leaned forward.

“She may be incoherent from the lack of oxygen,” he said, eyes scanning. Kit moved closer to the bed, leaning in just a bit.

“Can you say it again, Ms. Dempsey?” She said gently. The tone and pacing she used with patients came second-nature to her, and it didn’t take any effort to shift from self conscious BAU draft to Head Nurse. 

“It’s the en-” Ms. Dempsey tried again before being cut off by coughs that sounded as if they were already choking her. 

“Doctor!” JJ called quickly, panic flooding from her, and Kit turned towards the other two agents. 

“Give her some space,” she said, not allowing wiggle room in her tone. She started moving back herself, drawing the other two with her. “Here, let’s give some room.”

The doctor came in, setting down the new tox screen and working quickly over Ms. Dempsey. It was a few minutes before things calmed enough for Kit to ask calmly,

“Doctor, do you mind if I look at that?”

She gestured to the tox screen, to which he nodded quickly. Kit picked it up and started rifling through it, listening as JJ asked, “So, what are the chances that she's not poisoned, that maybe she just got some bad food?”

“Highly improbable. Chances are basically nil,” he said. 

Hotch came to stand beside Reid.

“What is the rate of survival?” Reid asked.

“This dose,” the doctor said, “without anti-toxin... Zero.” 

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

Kit’s voice came quickly and quietly, eyes darting up from the tox screen. “Botulism.”

There was a moment of quiet before a Nurse said with seriousness, “Doctor, her BP is dropping rapidly.”

“It's sepsis. Give another amp of epi,” he said.

“She's going into defib.”

“She's crashing! Get the paddles.”

Kit watched as the nurses and doctor worked over Ms. Dempsey. She’d been on her share of crash teams, but she’d never just watched and done nothing as a patient started to code right in front of her. They were paging a code blue, starting CPR, and everything in her screamed that she should be helping. She should be doing something. She should be moving, or speaking, or reading charts and screens and percentages. Something. Anything.

The problem was, she didn’t know if she was allowed. She had no idea what the rules were about jumping on a code in a hospital that wasn’t yours. She’d never had to. She’d never talked to Hotch about anything like that. Her job was with the BAU, only assisting on cases that were medical. 

This case was medical, but where was the line?

“The test run is over,” Reid said, swallowing hard and heading out of the room.

He jarred her from her thoughts, and her eyes went to follow him as he walked out.

JJ followed immediately, but Kit stood there for a few extra moments before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned away from Reid’s receding frame, looking up to see Hotch. His eyes held the same soft kindness they always did, and he gestured over his shoulder wordlessly. 

Kit took one last look at Lynn Dempsey, the doctor and nurses performing CPR on her lifeless body, before turning and following Hotch out of the hospital room.

Kit tried not to think of Lynn Dempsey as a patient dying in a hospital. She tried to think of Lynn Dempsey as a person outside of oxygen masks and heart monitors and charge paddles. 

It wasn’t helping that they went back to the police station, where the profilers sifted through her life in an attempt to see if she was a murderer.

“Lynn Dempsey was an executive assistant. She has no expertise with chemicals. She doesn't fit the profile of the unsub,” Gideon said, leafing through some of Dempsey’s information.

Morgan didn’t quite agree. “But the CDC found both LSD and rohypnol in the candy she was replacing at the bank.”

“She must have been an accomplice,” Hotch said, “and when the unsub finished using her to further his attack, he killed her with botulism.”

“So, what does that tell us about the unsub?” Gideon said, finally looking up and around at the team.

Reid leaned forward on the desk, furthest away from them all. “He's far more sophisticated than we realized,” he offered. 

Elle was getting frustrated, and she looked at Reid as if she was lost. 

“Why is that?” 

Reid looked as if he was going to respond, but suddenly cleared his throat in a way that made Kit’s eyebrows pull together. It sounded to her like he was trying not to cough, a small bit of anxiety rolling off of him as she connected the dots.

“The botulism toxin is the deadliest substance known to man,” she said, biding time and giving every bit of information she knew about what exactly the toxin was. Maybe it would help somehow. If anything, it would buy Reid some time. “It blocks acetylcholine receptors, paralyzing the body until it’s essentially choked death.” She looked around, watching as all eyes were on her. Reid had gotten himself back under control, and she gave a small shrug before she ended her spiel. “Without an antitoxin, a lethal dose will kill you in thirty six hours.”

The quiet that followed her information was nearly choking to Kit herself, and she could feel the variety of reactions to her speaking up. Morgan was surprised, but that was all. There was nothing hostile there. Hotch and Elle were processing and spinning again, trying to connect it all together. Gideon was either annoyed or unimpressed, neither of which made her feel any better. 

But Reid was grateful, which helped.

“How many people have access to this stuff?” Elle asked seriously, looking at Kit with anticipation.

“I don't know,” Kit said, and she turned her eyes to Reid.

“In New Jersey, quite a few,” he said, “It's the pharmaceutical and chemical capital of the U.S., so that the toxin can be ordered in the form of botox through any chemical or biological lab or botox clinic. It has to be purified, but any chemist or lab assistant has that capability.” 

“So, we're looking for chemists and sophisticated lab assistants?” Elle asked.

Reid nodded. “Basically.”

Morgan spoke up from the side of their group. He was the closest to Kit, and she was thankful that he had taken station there. While she tried to stay one step away and isolate, taking as infrequently as she could, it was reassuring that Morgan would choose that spot and keep her in the loop.

“Okay, wait a minute. If the unsub is a chemist with access to the toxin, what'd he need Dempsey for?”

“Well, we don't know yet,” Gideon said, “But, she worked for a, she worked for a company, called, uh,” he started rifling through the papers, “Hitchcock Pharmaceuticals. I think there's a good chance the unsub worked there, too.”

Hotch nodded. “Well, let's start with people who fit the profile who've had a recent stressor.”

Morgan called Garcia, and she found them some names to work with. Kit tried to pay attention, but Reid had settled himself down in one of the desks again, fingers trembling slightly, but nothing else giving him away.

While the team spoke she found herself walking to make another cup of tea, eyes darting to her backpack as she steeped the bag. She retrieved what she was looking for quickly, the honey stick having been tucked in there by Monty as a “just in case” item. Kit had laughed at her then, but she was glad for it now. 

When she came back and set the tea down next to Reid, making sure the rest of the team was distracted by the case, Elle was saying, “All those innocent people at the bank.”

Gideon didn’t seem concerned, and that bothered Kit to no end. 

“They meant nothing to him. He'll take out anybody to forward his cause.”

There was a moment that Kit wasn’t in the precinct anymore. She was at the hospital, watching Lynn Dempsey die before her very eyes. Her chest constricted, like she was being squeezed in the grasp of a snake. Grieving a woman she had never known.

“Like Dempsey,” she said.

Gideon didn’t seem to feel the weight of her comment the way she did, continuing on as if she’d barely spoken. 

“Like Dempsey, and eventually, even himself. Until he finishes taking out his primary targets.”

“We have no idea where he's going to strike next,” Morgan said, expressing the frustration we all had, “For all we know, he could poison the local reservoir.”

“Elle, the local cops haven't gotten any leads out of Dempsey. Why don't you go to Hitchcock and see if you have any luck,” Hotch said, causing Elle to perk up a bit.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding and moving out of her seat.

-----

“This is my job!” 

Kit was not yelling. She was speaking to Hotchner with a whole lot of heat, hands clenched by her sides so they wouldn’t tap. Wouldn’t tug. Wouldn’t give away how frustrated she was.

“Colghain, this is going to end in arrest, or suicide. You aren’t needed on this takedown, the profile doesn’t state that he will do anything to hurt anyone but himself.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” she said, “What if the profile is wrong and something happens.”

“The profile isn’t wrong,” came a voice over her shoulder. 

Kit closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Gideon was not going to make her lose her cool. Not like in Delaware. She was having a conversation with Hotch, and Gideon could think anything he wanted, but she would ignore him if it meant keeping her words and tone relatively professional.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to any of you.”

She meant it, and Hotch knew that. She knew he could see it in her. He was the best profiler of them all.

“Nothing is going to happen. I appreciate your dedication to your position, but this is my decision. We’ll have local SWAT with us, and we’re going in last. This will end in an arrest or a suicide.”

Hotch spoke as if to say “and that’s final” once he was done. His tone wasn’t demanding or forceful, but she knew he wasn’t going to give in. 

Her shoulders finally relaxed, one hand coming up to rub at her opposite bicep.

“Please be careful,” she said finally, to which Hotch nodded.

“We will. I’d like you to check in with Reid. He’s looking… off.”

“I already did,” she said simply, full intention to keep her promise. “He’s okay. Said he hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Hotch didn’t look convinced, but let that be her answer without more pushing.

“Alright, well, maybe check again. He won’t ask for help.”

“Don’t you have an unsub to go face without me?” She said, and though she was still frustrated, she allowed herself to push it down with the other emotions, giving him a small smile.

He nodded, turning on his heel and setting off down the hall. 

Kit took a moment to breathe before she turned back to the precinct. Gideon wasn’t standing behind her. She had no idea where he’d gone, actually.

Wonderful. He wants to be confrontational and Hotch isn’t here anymore. He didn’t let you go on the takedown. Did Gideon get to him? Does he not think I’m capable?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Cac!” Kit jumped, turning towards the slightly flushed assailant behind her. “Reid! That’s the third time you’ve done that.”

“What does that mean?” He asked, voice nasal. 

She tilted her head, pulling her eyebrows together as she thought about his question. It felt vaguely familiar.

“What?”

“What does that mean? You spoke Gaelic.”

“Oh,” she said, smoothing out her pants that were not wrinkled, and ignoring the fact that her tongue itched to correct him. Her parents called it Irish, and most people called it Gaelic, but she wasn’t going to get into linguistical nuances with Reid. “I don’t know what I said. You scared me, I reacted.”

“Cac.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, jaw dropping slightly. “What?”

“Cac, that’s what you said. You said ca-”

“Stop!” She all but yelled, her hands coming up in front of her as if to physically stop him from talking. “Okay, yes. I got it. That’s what I said. Please stop saying it.”

He looked confused by her outburst, sheepish even. “Tell me what it means.”

“It’s…” She trailed off, feeling the embarrassment creep across her face. “It’s rude. It’s a rude word.”

“Like a swear word?”

“No, a rude word. Like, that a child would say.”

“Are you trying to tell me that it’s a… bathroom word?” 

Kit watched as Reid’s face morphed into a smirk. Was he teasing her? Reid could tease? She hadn’t been involved in any kind of situation that would warrant Reid teasing her. Was he being friendly?

Don’t think too hard about it. He’s Gideon’s protégé, and Gideon doesn’t like you. 

“No more questions!” She snapped quickly, turning back into the precinct and stalking as far away as she could. Maybe she could find JJ and be of use somewhere with no Reid and no Gideon until the others got back.

-----

“He let us take him,” Hotch said. “He didn't kill himself. Doesn't fit the profile of a workplace killer.”

He, Gideon, Reid, and Kit were standing in the viewing portion of the interrogation room, the four of them staring through the glass at Hill. Kit hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Hotch why exactly she was needed. She figured Elle or Morgan would have been a much more appropriate choice.

“Sometimes you miss the mark,” Gideon said, hands pressed firmly on the top of the room’s table. “Let's be glad we did. He's our best chance at stopping the next attack.”

“Well, his lab had traces of botulinum toxin, but no clues as to what he's up to next,” Hanover said, walking in the room to stand near Gideon. He sounded listless, and Kit could feel the shift in the room when he entered. He was in over his head and he knew it.

Hotch didn’t look towards him, instead staying trained on Hill. “Our only chance is to make him tell us.”

Hanover didn’t seem convinced. “You think he will?”

“Once caught, these types usually do. They want the whole world to know about their brilliant plan to destroy their enemies,” Reid offered him, not sounding very impressed by Hill’s archetype. 

“In case he doesn't give it up, let's play every angle,” Gideon said, angling his body away from where Kit stood at the wall. He wasn’t talking to her, that much was very clear. “We need to re-examine everything we know about this guy.”

Reid shifted on his feet, pressing his hands into his pockets. “I'll check witness reports, forensic evidence, anything that might be a clue to this guy's plan.” 

Gideon nodded as Reid turned to him for approval. “A lot of lives could be at stake,” he said softly.

“I can help you,” Kit offered, keeping her voice level. She wanted to check her notebook for Reid’s medicinal distribution times more than she thought she would be helpful with his paperwork search, but she didn’t want to be in the room with Gideon anymore, and she wasn’t really doing anything just standing around.

“No,” Hotch said, now looking away from Hill and towards her isolated spot. “Colghain, I want you here while Gideon and I speak with Hill. Watch from this side of the glass. I’ll need your input when we’re done.”

“Hotch-”

“Sir-”

Gideon and Kit went to speak at the same time, causing Reid’s eyes to widen. He took his leave from the room quickly, and Hotch raised a hand to stop both Kit and Gideon before they could continue their grievance.

“Colghain will stay here and listen in while we interview Hill. Watch him closely.”

Kit hadn’t even been able to look at Hill during their short time on their side of the glass. He was a killer, and to her knowledge, she’d never been in the presence of one before. How one person could feel they were above so many others, that their feelings and their lives were more important, was lost to her, and she had no desire to look at him at all. Let alone watch him for the duration of his interview.

The room suddenly felt very cramped, though they had lost both Reid and Hanover in the moments of situational discomfort. Hotch’s eyes darted between Kit and Gideon, narrowing slightly as the physical tension in the far-too-small space between the two.

“Colghain,” Hotch said again, now gaining her attention more fully. “I want you at the window. Feel him out.”

She took a breath that seemed to catch in her chest, not able to get deep enough to make the feelings of discomfort go away. Her head nodded of its own accord, and her feet seemed to follow suit, moving towards the window and finally looking at the man sat there.

He wasn’t much. Not remarkable. He looked like a dad she would have seen at afternoon pick-up in grade school. 

But he isn’t a dad at school, Kody. This man hurt people. Killed two of them, and was trying to kill others. He was using drugs and toxins to harm people. What sort of sick person could do that? Not much of a person at all. 

The hatred sat like a weight in her gut, and while it was obvious Hotch and Gideon had no benevolent feelings for Hill, it didn’t belong to either of them. It was all her own. 

Her eyes narrowed through the glass, and she took a breath.

“Okay. Yes, sir,” she said. She heard even footsteps pad out the doorway. Her eyes didn’t move from Hill as she continued mumbling, now directly to Hill though the glass, even though he couldn’t hear her. “Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú.”

“What did you say to him?”

Gideon.

“Sorry?” Kit said, eyes never moving from the window. She’d thought Gideon had left as well and was following Hotch, not staying behind to watch her.

“What did you say? To Hill.”

She took a breath and turned, eyes narrowing at the older man in front of her. He didn’t want her there anyway, she might as well tell him.

“Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú,” she said, now louder. Each word was enunciated clearly, eyes not moving from Gideon’s. If he wanted to know, she’d tell him. “It’s something my Gran used to say to people with tattoos after she came to America.”

“And what does it mean?” He asked, mouth in a hard line, eyes searching her for an answer.

“May the devil choke you,” she said simply, voice never wavering. 

There was a moment of silence between them. Kit didn’t shift. She didn’t fidget or rock her weight. She didn’t move her eyes from his.

“Where’s yours?” He finally asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes never becoming less severe as she tried to gauge his question.

“My what?”

“Your tattoo? Where is it?”

She let out a breath, shaking her head. She hated the way Gideon felt so smug. How it seemed to circle in the air and choke her.

“There it is,” he said, not waiting any longer for her answer.

“There what is?” she responded, not able to keep the bite from her tone. 

“Trouble,” he said simply. His eyes never left hers.

For a moment she considered pushing. Considered defending herself, and telling him that she wasn’t trouble. That she was doing her job, and that he should just let her be.

She didn’t get the chance, though, as he turned on his heel and followed where Hotch had left the room.

Kit stood, staring at the spot Gideon had just been for a long while before she heard Hotch’s voice through the speaker. 

She turned back to the glass, watching now as Hotch and Gideon spoke to Hill. She took in his facial expressions. His body language. The feel of his emotions, though it wasn’t easy through the glass.

She did her job.

When they finished and reentered the room Kit was in, Hotch stood next to her, looking in at Hill.

“I called JJ. She, Morgan, and Elle are headed to the party now.” 

Kit nodded once, eyes still searching Hill as he sat across the glass.

“What did you notice?”

She took a breath, calmer now that Hotch was there, and that she’d had something productive to focus on. “He’s really… sweaty. That probably sounds stupid, but it’s strange to me. He didn’t give me a feeling of regret. He seemed sure of his decision, I guess, until you started to talk about taking his case. Then less sure, but he was sweating before that.” She waited for him to stop her, but he didn’t, so she continued. “He started fidgeting a lot there at the end. I don’t think it was guilt though. More like… discomfort. Like there was something else bothering him other than the two of you doing your interrogation.”

Hotch nodded, turning to look at her now. “He was sweating before we started?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m sure of it. That’s one of the things I look for when I’m watching for patients in distress.”

The three agents watched Hill for another minute before Hotch spoke to Gideon, saying, “What is it?”

“You're right,” Gideon said, “It doesn't make sense. Why didn't Hill take his own life when we had him surrounded?”

“Guys, I think we have a problem.”

Reid walked into the room as he spoke at a brisk pace, all sense that there was something wrong with his health pushed aside by his serious demeanor. “I've been looking over the victim reports. One of the victims that was originally dosed was severely diabetic.”

Kit’s eyes went wide, though Hotch didn’t seem to see the issue.

“And?” He asked.

“He wouldn't have taken any candy from the bowl at the bank,” Kit said, eyes flicking to her, and then back to Reid.

He nodded at her and said, “All of the victims were there. We know that, but how were they poisoned? I started looking at the security footage.”

He turned the laptop he was holding. On the screen was the film from the bank, in which Lynn Dempsey was meddling with the candy bowl.

“We know Lynn Dempsey replaced some candy from the bowl. Look how close that jar is to the deposit envelopes. Now, watch this.” He clicked a button, and the film zoomed in to show Lynn Dempsey’s hand on top of the stack of envelopes, right next to the candy bowl. “See that? Her hand is directly in the stack of envelopes.”

“So, you think the envelopes were poisoned as well as the candy?” Hotch asked. Kit took a step closer, eyes looking carefully at the picture.

Reid continued. “As Lynn Dempsey was dying, she kept saying something like "the end, the end." I think that what she was saying was "the envelopes." I mean, what was Hill actually testing? The rohypnol? The LSD?”

Gideon took a moment before saying, “The delivery system.”

“Exactly,” Reid said, “Botulinum toxin and LSD are the only two substances in the world toxic enough to be effective in doses as small as thousandths of a gram. Small enough to fit on the glue strip of an envelope.”

Kit found herself nodding, though no one was looking at her. She might have added more to Spencer’s finding, but Gideon’s words from earlier stopped her. 

Trouble. 

She wouldn’t prove him right.

“But, the CDC didn't find any evidence of poison on the envelopes,” Hotch said, face slightly scrunched in confusion. Grasping at straws, just like they all were.

“They wouldn't have. The envelopes were destroyed after the checks were deposited and processed,” Spencer explained. He started to sound a bit hoarse now, and Kit shifted her weight in sympathy of his discomfort.

“So,” Hotch said, clearly needing to process out loud at the speed he took his words. “like the rohypnol, Hill was using the candy to throw us off. To cover his tracks. To distract us from the fact that he was testing the envelopes.”

Reid was still working it over as well. “What I can't figure out is why would he poison the envelopes to test the punch?”

“Because the punch is a decoy just like the candy,” Hotch offered.

Kit turned to look at Hill. There was something they were missing. Something right there, but they just couldn't see it.

What could he still be hiding?

She watched for a moment as he started to go a bit red, Hill’s breathing seeming strained. She heard Gideon speak behind her.

“He's not finished.”

She felt her jaw go slack as she realized what was happening. Hill was choking. He’d dosed himself with the botulism toxin before he could be captured. That was why he didn’t kill himself. He’d already done it. He was dying.

He’s dying.

“Hotch!” She yelled, moving quickly out the door of the room and around the side. She was pretty sure she didn’t have the clearance to be doing whatever she was about to do, but she didn’t really care.

She heard Hotch call, “Gideon!” behind her, but she didn’t stop. 

She threw the door open, pulling desperately at the chair Hill was sitting in. The chair was heavy, and with Hill sitting on it she struggled.

Hotch came up behind her, helping pull the chair out.

“Get him down on the floor!” She called. She could feel Gideon behind her, trying to move into her space and take control.

“Get his head back!”

“Shut up!” She yelled, pulling at Hill’s arms to release the hold he had on himself as the toxin paralyzed his diaphragm. 

It only took a few seconds before Hill stopped breathing, tongue going slack inside his mouth as his life ended before their eyes. 

“He's dead,” Hotch said simply. 

Gideon was quick to respond. “He killed himself before we even got to him.”

Kit stood to her feet, slamming her hand onto the table, “Damn it!” She yelled, rounding on Gideon. “What the hell is wrong with you?! What the hell-” she slammed her hand on the table again, “-do you think I’m doing here?!”

“Colghain-” Hotch started, but Kit was already making her way out the door.

“I’m calling EMS!” She yelled angrily over her shoulder, pushing past a dumbfounded Reid standing in the hallway, and leaving all three agents in her wake.

Kit was pacing in the hallway once she finished the call. She expected Hotch to reprimand her, or Gideon to be angry with her. Reid hadn’t even said anything, though by the look of him after his revelation about Lynn Dempsey, he was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to try to unpack what had happened.

She considered trying to help him some more. Pump him full of cold medicine and send him to bed. She didn’t. She just continued to pace, infuriated by the way Gideon had tried to take over. He had no respect for her, that much was clear.

Why am I even here? Why am I here with these people who think I’m a joke? Who have no respect for my job or for me? They don’t care about what I’m doing or who I am. They’re stiffs. They’re all stiffs.

“Colghain, come on.”

She looked up to see Gideon and Reid already setting off down the hallway, Hotch in their wake. Gideon’s body language suggested he was frustrated, but Kit genuinely couldn’t have cared less.

“The victims need to ingest the anti-toxin within four hours of the time they were poisoned,” Reid was saying. 

Kit caught up to Hotch, right at his heels. They were moving in a way that suggested action, and she couldn’t pace and fume in the hallway anymore.

“You found the real targets?”

“They’re in the woods.”

“Do we know where in the woods?”

The SUV flew down the highway, and when they got there they were out of their seats in seconds. The four of them vaulted the wall between the car and the campsite, and Kit only slowed when she saw Reid nearly topple over. Was he dizzy? She’d have to check later.

They got to the officers waiting there out of breath, but entirely focused. Nothing but the victims mattered.

“These guys are in bad shape and getting worse by the minute,” the officer that greeted them said.

Hotch almost didn’t let the officer finish before he was asking, “Who's the sickest?”

“That one over there,” the man said.

Gideon didn’t let the officer finish before he was already yelling. “Medic!”

“He’s having trouble breathing. Hyperventilating, I think,” the officer continued, and they moved quickly. 

“What time did he lick the envelopes?” Reid asked, just behind where Kit was walking. Gideon and Hotch were already near the man that was sweating heavily, his breaths wheezing with exertion.

“They said around 12:30,” the officer assured.

Kit let out a breath. They had time. They would be okay. 

She came upon them as Gideon was starting to speak to the man. His tone was gentle and understanding. Not at all anything like he’d ever used towards her. 

The tone she associated with him was scathing. Questioning. When he spoke to the victim, she could have confused him with one of her clinic nurses.

“I’m a federal agent. You're going to be fine. This is gonna make you feel a hundred percent. Relax and breathe. You're gonna be fine.”

“Thank you,” the man said, his voice weak, but the panic flooding off of him reduced to worry. 

Kit moved to another one of the executives, speaking softly and assuringly as they were administered the antitoxin. She wished she could be of more help, but the EMS workers had it covered. That was their job. At that moment, she was a federal agent. Just like Gideon.

She settled in the seat across from Morgan on the jet. He put on his headphones and crashed almost immediately, and Kit envied his ability to sleep so easily. 

Her mind kept drifting to Hill. To the way he died on the floor of the interrogation room. To Gideon trying to get in her way, or take her job as she attempted to help the dying man. To the way she’d yelled at him.

Ari and Monty would never believe it if she told them she’d lost her temper that way. Monty was their spitfire, at least at work. In the clinic there wasn’t a cooler head than Kit’s. But something about the way Gideon treated not only her, but those all around him, bothered her deep in her gut. She watched as he was gentle with Reid, and people he didn’t know, but never with other members of the team.

Now, she figured he probably didn’t tell everyone else they were trouble. She was trouble. Just her.

Her hands moved to help tuck her legs under her, brushing gently on the tattoo just higher than her ankle. A sprig of holly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. 

She waited a moment before pulling her backpack onto the seat with her. She grabbed the blue pills from where she’d purposefully stashed them that morning, and then sat up taller, leaning over the back of her seat to where Reid had all but thrown himself.

Gideon was sleeping across from him, but she could see that their youngest wasn’t asleep at all.

“Reid,” she said quietly.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at her. “Um, yes?” His voice was rough again, sounding almost congested.

“Here. Before Hotch finishes making his coffee.” She passed over the pills and a bottle of water she’d snagged from the nurses station at the hospital the day before. She’d saved it for this exact purpose.

Reid looked surprised for a moment before sitting up, sniffling before accepting the offering. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, turning back to sit in her seat correctly without another word.

She wasn’t mad at Reid. She was mad at Gideon. He made her feel small, and unimportant, and stupid. That wasn’t Reid’s fault.

But Gideon was Reid’s mentor, and she had no room in her emotional baggage to be friends with the pseudo son of her antagonizer. 

She scratched down the medication in her notebook before shoving it back into place in her bag. A moment passed before she heaved a sigh, glancing to Morgan and pulling out her own iPod. It wasn’t a long flight. Soon she would be back in her apartment, maybe even before Ari left for the day, and she could process about Gideon. She could process about Reid. She could process about Lynn Dempsey, coding in her hospital bed. She could process about Hill dying on the floor, right in front of her.

-----

Kit got to the metro station in record time. The redline had only three minutes until it was supposed to pick up for the night, and Kit pulled her coat tighter around herself. She’d left quickly, only going up to the sixth floor to grab her thermos from two mornings before. She’d wash it before she was due to be in the BAU the next morning, and Hotch had even told them they could have a soft start, since they got in so late.

She was wondering if she should have given Reid the nighttime version of the medication she offered. She didn’t really think about him having to drive home, and drowsy was probably not the best choice for driving across DC on a Tuesday night. 

“Do you have any more water?”

“Cac!” 

Kit spun around, hands at the ready, only to find Reid standing two feet behind her. His eyes were wide, nose bright red, and fever flush covering his cheeks. 

“Reid! What the hell!”

“I thought you said that was a rude word,” he rasped. No one had really spoken after they got off the jet, and Reid definitely sounded worse for wear.

“What?” She said, eyes narrowing. “It is. What are you doing here?”

A wave of confusion came off of him at that. “Um, what do you mean?”

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the metro tracks. “What are you doing here at my metro stop?” She scoffed quietly, not letting him have the chance to lie to her. “You can tell Gideon that I take the metro just like any other person. Monty and Ari and I share a car, and normally I’m leaving the office before eleven. You don’t have to, like, spy on me.”

She watched as his eyebrows hit his hairline. He was confused, but she didn’t care. She was tired and her emotions were starting to creep back up on her. She wasn’t going to meltdown on the metro, and she was not going to meltdown in front of Reid. 

Not after what he’d already seen.

“You… what?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you’re doing,” she continued. Thankfully, the metro pulled up at that moment. She stepped onto the train and turned to face him again, gesturing to his general being. “Also, you look terrible. Don’t come in to work tomorrow.”

“Wait, no, Dakota-”

“Stop.” She said, putting every bit of force into her words, but making sure she didn’t sound aggravated enough for someone around them to try and jump in. The last thing she needed was a good samaritan to misunderstand their situation. “Just stop. Goodnight, Reid.”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before Kit moved away from the door and took a seat. She put her face in her hands and took a deep breath. 

She didn’t notice him step through a door farther down, sinking into his own train seat, fevered forehead pressed against the cold redline glass as the train pulled away from the now empty stop.

[silvanable]

Photogenic - V ( REWRITE )

an old one shot i decided to rewrite. this was actually my first attempt at an x reader back in the day ( 2016 to be exact ) loooooong before V’s route was ever even considered.

i thought reviving and revamping a relic would be good, plus i still love it. so have version 2.0, new and improved.

original that’s super old & has horrible grammar that might send you to the grave can be found here.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

↪  GUIDELINES

   ✒ warnings: n/a

   ✒ tags: fluff, gender neutral reader, i’m yeeting canon thanks, we’re calling this an au & v is losing his eyesight to an undisclosed illness/injury reader doesn’t know about

✏ Word Count : 3629

It was a beautiful and pleasant day. It had served you the perfect opportunity to take a long hike and indulge yourself in your favorite pastime. Photography.

By now the day had passed and was winding down to its end. You still were having your fun. You had found a particularly nice spot where you had the perfect view of the horizon. More specifically, you had the best position to get that one perfect photo of the sunset, even if you had to sit here until dusk to get it.

Luckily for you, you did not wait long for your perfect masterpiece.

The sky was darkening in its beautiful palette of oranges, pinks, and reds. The fading sunlight shone through the autumn trees and glowed through them like a halo. Below was the expanse down the trails into the woods and rolling hills, blanketed in soft shadows. It looked like a mystical, foreign land out of a fairytale.

It was exactly what you had waited for.

You lifted the camera up, leveling it with your eyes as you stared through the lens. Your index finger found its familiar resting place atop the button. The smallest amount of pressure on the button was awarded by a familiar click of a shutter and a brief pass of darkness in front of your eye.

You repeated the action several times, just for precautions. While one photo might suffice, you preferred to be prepared with a selection to pick your prize from.

After you were done, you lowered the camera from your face. Your fingers nimbly found their way to the buttons beside the screen to review your reward of patience.

A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you reviewed the captures of the day on your camera. You did well if you did say so yourself and had plenty more to add to your collection, specifically the one for this particular trail.

You turned on your heel, aimlessly wandering back down the familiar trail to get back to your car before dark. While you practically knew these hiking paths like the back of your hand, you were not willing to risk stumbling in the dark and tripping onto your camera. This elegant piece of machinery was your most prized possession and arguably tied to your soul. If anything were to happen to it, you would most certainly cry. It could be replaced but still would feel like losing your first love.

Your eyes glued to the camera in your hands, your feet led you without visual guidance, and straight into a solid force.

A squeak, yes, an unmistakable squeak left your lips as your body tumbled back. Your hands clenched tightly around the camera in your grasp and you squeezed your eyes shut.

The only thing running through your mind was, Oh, how the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

You landed with a thud into the beaten dirt. A soft groan leaving your throat at the unpleasant throb of your rear from landing so hard. There was one good thing, though.

You opened your eyes to see the camera still safely in your hands, unharmed. A sigh of relief left you as your body relaxed.

Next was the matter of what you had walked into.

Your eyes rose up, only to find it was not what you had walked into but who.

“I am so sorry,” You blurted out quickly upon seeing a blue-haired individual in front of you.

“No, it’s alright. It was my accident.” He murmured gently in response. A pale hand extended down towards you.

You wasted no time in accepting the offer. Your hand clasped around his and with a little effort from you both, you found yourself back on your feet again.

The momentary stun you suffered from seemed to melt away from you, now that you were closer to this man. You did not mean to stare, but there was something ethereal about him. His hair was a light blue, like a summer sky on a clear day. His skin was ghostly, not in a way that showed illness, but glowed with youthfulness and livelihood. His eyes, though, were what drew you in, clearer than a freshwater spring or a lake frozen in winter but guarded and mysterious as they met your gaze.

You believed the eyes were the windows to someone’s soul. His eyes, however, were guarded and any secrets sealed away. It only intrigued you more. You found yourself wanting to know this stranger and why his eyes allured you so. You wanted to know that unheard story deep in his heart.

“Are you alright?” His gentle tone broke you from your trace.

“O-oh?” The stutter left you before you realized it. You were staring. How rude could you be? “Yes… I’m sorry, though. I didn’t mean to walk into you. I guess I wasn’t paying attention, too busy staring at my camera,” You wiggled the object in question in your hands, “And you would think I would be paying more attention because of it.” A nervous chuckle escaped you.

“You enjoy photography?” He asked.

You nodded shortly in response. “Yes! I mean, I dabble. It’s something I enjoy doing a lot but it is really just a hobby right now.” Your words grew to a soft murmur at the end.

You loved what you did but wished you could do more. It was not exactly easy for you though. There were some issues with confidence and the opportunities that you seemed to need to wildly chase. If you had the chance to do this as a profession, as your living, you most certainly would jump at the chance.

“Is that so? I’m sort of a professional, but it’s really just a passion of mine.” He said, “I could give you a few tips if you are interested.”

Your eyes lifted to his again, a smile stretched over your lips. “That would be great, it means a lot to learn from someone else who has the same passion.” You drew the camera close to your person. “And I’m absolutely forgetting my manners,” You said, introducing yourself as you held out your hand to him.

He hesitated for a moment before taking your hand, “My friends call me V.” A gentle smile graced his lips.

Your heart seemed to betray you at that moment with a harder than usual beat. And since when did the cool autumn air feel so warm? That might be the blush that crept over your face.

“Well, V,” You cleared your throat to try and get your bearings, “Can I treat you to dinner?” You asked, “As pre-payment for helping me out, you know?” You added quickly, “That is if you aren’t busy.” You had to fight the urge to awkwardly squirm in place.

You suddenly felt like a schoolgirl. How embarrassing this was. More concerning was the fact you had so quickly asked him out. Apparently your heart had forcibly taken the wheel and your mind was tied up and thrown to the back of the bus.

“I’m free tomorrow night,” The soft chuckle that left V’s lips was a sweet sound to your years. “Let me give you my number. We can discuss the details later.”

Much time has passed since then…

There was a gentle laugh in the air that traveled through the park. It had fallen from your lips as you twirled in place. One of your hands folded over your decorative hat to prevent it from blowing off as you moved. Your white spring attire flowed in the breeze with you.

Much quieter than your laughter, there were several familiar clicks, the sound of a shutter closing. Behind the camera was a familiar blue-haired man, wearing a smile that was contagious to you.

Your laughter continued as you turned to the camera, making childish faces or striking elegant poses.

For quite some time you two had spent time together. Ever since the two of you met, you had grown ever closer. You often made brunch or the occasional dinner plan. Sometimes it was a professional matter that involved photography and others were for leisure as the two of you would go out on strolls or to the movies.

You know that you had grown attached to V. You admired him maybe a bit too much and often found yourself lost in thought with him on your mind. You tried to deny that the connection was anything more than friends, but your heart since the very first day liked to remind you that you were absolutely smitten. You were in denial, actively in a way, despite the thrum of your heart.

The feeling was foreign but warm and welcoming, just like the smile you were being given from V. The more you thought about it, the more you felt as if you had fallen. You had not fallen into some darkness but a place of warmth and brightness. The feeling was foreign but warm and welcoming, just like the smile you were being given from V.

The sweet smile you received only served to make your heart swell more. It was a collision of feelings that made you feel so many things you doubted you could untangle them without being overwhelmed first, both good and bad.

While you adored V, there was also still so much you did not know about him. He was still a mystery, one you had yet to find the hidden story about. You learned about him but he was so reserved and what you found out only served to create an even bigger mystery.

It all had something to do with those shaded glasses that covered his eyes and the red striped cane he had begun to carry with him more frequently.

“Don’t you have enough already?” You called out teasingly to V.

He shook his head, that grin ever-present. “I need a few more.”

You shook your head in response, “Alright, you have enough! It’s my turn and I want to see!” You rushed over to him, reaching out to take the camera from his hands.

He rose his arms over his head, the camera just out of your reach.

“That’s not fair, V! I can’t reach!” You protested.

“That’s the point,” He laughed.

Even stretched up on the tips of your toes he was able to keep the camera just from your fingertips. You were relentless, though, and would not give up the fight as you puffed and tried to stretch further.

You came to the conclusion during your stretching and huffing that there was no way you could reach the camera. So you had to find another way to get what you wanted.

There was a list running through your mind and allowed you to contemplate all your options quickly. There was nothing that seemed quite right.

You looked up towards the man and an idea popped into your mind. Without thinking, you took action.

“I will take these then!” You said and took several steps back to create distance between you both.

Your lips twisted into a defiant pout as your eyes flickered down to the stolen item in your hands. Your fingers delicately curled around thick, black sunglasses.

Your mind registered what you held and what you had just done.

Panic surged up through you faster than your body could comprehend the emotion. Your expression contorted with regret and your eyes reflected your internal panic.

“I‒” The words got stuck in your throat as you tried to force them out. 

You knew very little behind the injury that had cost V his eyesight. He was going blind, a slow process that would take his vision from him. It happened long before you met him or you had assumed so at least, as you learned about it sometime after meeting him. Though one thing you knew very plainly was how insecure he was about the loss of his eyes. It was a very sensitive topic that he often avoided and respected his wishes not to push for answers.

“I’m so sorry, V‒” Your voice left you broken and shaken.

You wanted to say more but found you swallowed your own voice again as your eyes met with the man just out of arm's reach from you.

V looked stunned. As if he was still processing what had happened.

Your eyes met his expectantly, waiting for the worst.

Even in your fright, though, you found yourself admiring his eyes. It had been such a long time since you had seen them as he wore the glasses more frequently as time carried on. You had missed them, their pale, clear color, and the look of fondness they held in them for you when he looked at you.

From where you stood, he was set against the cloudless sky and bright, renewing green plant-life of the spring. A gentle breeze seemed to hair his pale blue locks and small dandelion seeds danced around him. His black sweater and jeans contrasted with the brightness around him. His expression seemed calm to you almost and he held the camera in his hands just so perfectly… He was a masterpiece of perfection and beauty to your eyes.

Something overtook you in that moment as you scurried towards where you had dropped your bag. You wear almost spastic as you searched for your own camera and rushed back to where you had been standing a moment before. Then proceeded to throw yourself to the ground for the perfect photo.

V’s eyes had followed you the entire way. A small smile began to pull at the corner of his mouth. You had not even noticed that he had broken from his trance only to be enthralled by you.

There was a familiar click of camera shutters again. You were absolutely dismissive of everything around you as you fiddled with the camera.

V’s smile only grew.

It was adorable to watch as you so intently focused, barely aware he was watching you as you took pictures of him.

It was a childish and rash decision of yours, but you would never forgive yourself for letting that masterpiece of him go in the moment. The beauty that had unfolded before you was not something you could easily pass up, not when you could cherish the look in his eyes and that smile forever with a photograph.

Your finger stopped short of fully applying pressure to the camera’s button. You finally realized that his stare was not distant but fixed on your through the lens of your camera. Your finger came down against the button, the shutter sound louder in your ears than it was a moment before.

You were rooted in the shot you had crouched in, camera grasped in your hand, and V’s glasses hooked in your fingers. You dared not lower the camera and further embarrass yourself.

“Am I that photogenic to you?” V asked, a sweet curiosity in his voice. He was in front of you in just a few steps, staring down at you.

Reality hit you and reality hit hard.

A shameful sound left your lips, one you dared not to call a squeak despite it being exactly that, as he leaned down into your face.

He wore a coy expression and you found yourself mesmerized by clarity in those icy orbs of his. There was no coldness despite the pale color of his eyes, instead, there was a warmth and love you hoped you were not mistaken for in them.

Your intent gaze, searching so deep inside of his own glassy one, had taken him back. Everything reflected in your eyes, the admiration, and the fixation as if you had found something strange, new, and deeply terrifying.

“Gorgeous…” The word left your lips in awe and caressed his own lips with your warm breath.

You were too much for him. The look on your face is far too pure with admiration and the soft sound of your voice all too much for him to take. You were captivated, the dazed look on your face said enough that you were mesmerized by his beauty, and that alone made his heart swell. He had never seen a look so honest, so clear, and so full of love than the one you gave him.

It was in that moment, with each gentle beat of your heart in your chest, those words you refused to admit were clear to you in your mind. You had fallen for him, for his kindness and compassion, and for his beauty without and within.

You believed deep down, at this moment, you saw who he was. There were no barriers, no resistance, nothing clouding his soul to you. You could see a man, who was so full of love and passion but suffered. The pain and sorrow swam in his eyes but mingled with it you could see curiosity, love, and selflessness hidden deep inside. You could see the understanding and trust, but it was held back by fear and loss that threatened to bloom and consume him, so he hid with the intent to do good in the favor of another’s well being.

There was no saying how true anything you saw was but you believed it all to be as it was given to you. You believed in that moment V had opened up and revealed himself to you. One thing you knew, was that he was genuine, and the soft, loving look he gave you was not something you dreamed up. It was real.

“V…” His name left your lips like a whispered prayer.

He replied quietly with your own name as if that was all that was keeping him from unraveling at that very moment.

A smile graced your lips. A sort of trance fell over you both as a daze seemed to overtake you both. Time seemed to slow down as you stared at one another, waiting with bated breath for the other to dare and break the strange but welcoming atmosphere around you.

His hands came to wrap gently around your hands. Your heart quickened and pounded violently against your chest. You were frozen as his fingers softly caressed your cheek as he cupped your chin.

His lips brushed against your lips, so close but as if chasm was still between you. You tried to force yourself to speak, to break away from your thoughts and shatter this illusion your mind gave you before you were too deeply invested.

No sound left your lips, though, instead your mouth was covered by V’s own. The gentle sensation against your lips surprised you, almost as if you were dreaming. Your daring prince, however, intended to break that spell from you with this very kiss. It woke you from the trance you believed yourself to be trapped in, taking the fire in your heart from a lump of smoldering coal to a raging flame.

You threw your arms around his shoulders in response to pull him closer. The two of you tumbled back into the grass but the kiss was not broken.

His lips moved slowly against your own, soft and passionate, conveying all the affections he had held for you and you returned all of those you had tried to ignore. With this kiss alone, you felt as if you could melt into him, and you wished that this moment would never end.

Sadly your lungs demanded air and you two had to part. Emerging from the oceans of your affections with a deep inhale.

V’s breath was as uneven as your own as the two of you sat there in silence, gazing at each other, and listening to the sound of each breath you took. His forehead came to rest gently against your own, another contagious smile on his lips that infected your own. Neither of you spoke, just held each other close as you lied there in the midst of the park.

“Did you drop the camera?” A sudden panic hit you with the realization and you tried to sit up.

V held you in place, the smile still present on his lips. “No, I put it down before you dragged me to the ground.”

“I did not‒”

“Did you drop my glasses?” He cut you off.

Your panic shifted as you wiggled your fingers. His glasses tapped gently against his shoulder, still safely hooked in your fingers.

“Nope,” You let out a breath of relief, “I would never dare,” You added quickly, trying to hide your momentary panic of possibly ruining his glasses in your forgetfulness.

“Though…” Your voice was quiet as you trailed off, a sudden seriousness in your tone.

V rose a brow at you, his eyes still fixed on your face, taking in your concerned features as whatever thought ate away at you. “What is it?”

“I was just… just wondering if there was something we could do for your eyes…” Your fingers gently trailed over the corner of his eye. “I don’t know if you looked into it, but it’s a shame to lose this part of you.”

“I never really bothered me,” His tone was forlorn, “I came to terms with losing my sight until I met you.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and murmured your name, “I don’t think I can bear not to see your smile light up my every day now though.”

A gentle smile found its way onto your lips. Your eyes closed to relish in the sweet kiss as you tried to imprint the feeling in your mind forever.

“I love you,” You said softly.

“I love you too,” V whispered back.

You leaned up, pressing your lips gingerly against his own in another kiss.

[queenofcats17]

The Line In The Sand

@randomwriteronline wrote this awesome thing and I wanted to write something with my own Joey.

I need to flesh out his character more. Please tell me if there’s anything I should change. 

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Investors learned quickly not to mention their thoughts on Judaism in front of Joey Drew. 

Normally, he wasn’t one to express anger toward his investors. Even when they made disparaging comments about some of his staff, he never lost his temper. 

They called Norman the usual slurs and suggested Joey was a fool for trusting him with the projection equipment. 

They chided Joey for hiring Irishmen, most notably Wally and Shawn, citing how lazy and shiftless ‘their types’ could be. 

They expressed distaste and disgust that he’d put a woman in charge of the animation department, calling Ms. Lambert some rather unsavory names and insinuating she was trying to be a man. There was the usual, ‘she’ll never find a husband if she keeps on like this’ as well, although that one applied to most of the women employed at the studio. 

(Nothing was said about Lacie Benton since she was under Bertram’s employ, and he had likely shut down any attempts to disparage her.)

Through all this, Joey never attempted to correct them. Never bothered to defend his workers. His investors could throw around all the slurs they wanted and he wouldn’t bat an eye. 

“What’s the harm in hiring them?” He’d say with a shrug. “As long as they do good work, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t hire them. Besides,” he’d add with one of his showman smiles. “No matter how poorly I treat them, they won’t leave me. Who else would hire them?”

This always got a round of laughter from the investors. None of them noticed Joey’s smile never reached his eyes. None of them noticed the hatred that burned in his eyes when he looked at them. The contempt that lurked behind his amiable smile. Oh, how he’d changed from when he was young. 

He just told the investors what they wanted to hear, proved that he could play their game. And that was enough for the greedy bastards. They never thought to probe any deeper than what was on the surface. After all, he was young and handsome, he dressed the right way and said the right things. He was one of them, as far as they were concerned. 

But when they brought up the Jewish people in his employ...That was when they saw a side to Joseph Drew that he kept closely guarded. The first time one of the investors made an off-color joke on the subject, Joey got very quiet. His smile vanished, replaced by a stony mask.

The ‘joke’ had been about Grant. One of the investors had said that Joey’s studio was probably losing money because Grant was stealing it. He hadn’t called Grant by name, of course, referring to him in a less than flattering manner. 

“Mr. Drew, is something wrong?” One asked, pausing in his uproarious laughter when he noticed Joey’s expression.

The mood in the office had changed the moment the ‘joke’ had been made. The air suddenly felt...heavier. An intense aura radiated off of Joey and all of them could tell it meant he was not pleased.

“Fine,” Joey spat, his lip curling up in a snarl. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this meeting short. I’m suddenly feeling rather ill.” He stood up with fluid grace, holding the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

“Is this because of what I said?” The instigator asked with a smug smirk. “Come now, don’t tell me you can’t take a joke!”

Joey turned very slowly to the instigator, his snarl turning into a smile. It was a wide smile. Almost unnatural in how wide it was. It made everyone present feel rather ill at ease.

“I’m just feeling ill, that’s all,” he replied with an eerie degree of calm. The intense aura had become even stronger, causing a few of the men to pull nervously at their collars.

“I have a weak constitution, I’m afraid,” Joey continued, gliding out from behind his desk and opened the door. “I wouldn’t want to lose consciousness in the middle of a meeting. So why don’t you all leave for the moment? We can continue our conversation at our next meeting.” Although his voice was calm and jovial, there was an underlying edge that left little room for argument.

Admittedly, any one of them could likely have taken him down. Joey Drew was a small man, short and slight. But the terrifying presence he possessed tended to discourage others from enacting physical violence against him. Nowadays, at least. So, the investors left.

Joey waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps anymore, turned, and screamed at the top of his lungs. His secretary didn’t even bat an eye. Sighing, she got up and went into his office to make sure he didn’t break anything. 

It happened more than once, as well. Every time an investor said something disparaging or made a joke about the Jewish people in Joey’s employ, or Jewish people in general, Joey immediately shut down the meeting and made them leave. His outbursts of anger after their departure became more and more frequent.

The latest instance was the worst of them. The curses that she heard were worse than any Joey had used in the past. It almost sounded as though he was crying as well. Despite her better judgment, she went to see what was going on. When she entered the office, she found Joey holding onto the back of his chair and muttering darkly to himself. His expression was positively demonic and she could see tear tracks running down his cheeks. She was a bit surprised to see he’d been crying.

“You know, if you hate meeting with them so much, maybe you should stop,” she said. 

“What a lovely idea, Gloria!” Joey growled through gritted. “I hadn’t thought of that!”

“Don’t get snippy. It was just a suggestion.” Gloria sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. As far as the studio was concerned, she had the patience of a saint. In reality, though, she was one of the few people who was willing to call out Joey’s bullshit. For some reason, Joey didn’t object to this either.

Her incredulous look made Joey pause and take a few deep breaths to calm himself. 

“As much as I would like to cut all contact with those overgrown bullies,” he said, making a concerted effort not to yell. “It’s extremely difficult to find ways to raise money for this sort of thing. Placating those fat pigs is my best option for securing a reliable source of funding.”

“If that’s really how you feel, I’m surprised you actually draw a line on the bull you let them spew,” Gloria remarked, her lip curling up a bit in distaste.

The things she’d heard those investors say made her blood boil. And yet Joey had never protested against any of it. What made this topic different from the others?

“It’s...complicated,” Joey said slowly, avoiding her gaze. He quickly shook his head and sat down in his chair. “In any case, I have work I need to do.”

Gloria raised an eyebrow but left without another word. 

Left alone, Joey stared down at the stack of expense reports on his desk. It was amazing how all the expenses added up. Math had been his worst subject in school. It was a miracle he’d managed to keep the studio running before he’d hired Grant. That man was a lifesaver. 

Thinking of Grant made his mind drift back to the comments to investors had made. He gritted his teeth, almost snapping his pen in half as his fist clenched in rage. He despised them. Despised having to grovel to them to get the money he needed. When he looked at them, he saw the schoolyard bullies who had made his childhood years a living nightmare.

Listening to them insult his workers was maddening, but he could keep his distaste under wraps because the slurs they used had never been applied to him. When he heard the slurs about Jewish people, though, he was transported back to the schoolyard. That time when he’d been small and weak and helpless and no one had lifted a finger to help him. He was unable to control his anger then.

.

One thing people learned very quickly was that Joey was incredibly protective of his workers. While he’d (barely) tolerate slander from the investors, no one else was allowed to speak ill of his workers. If anyone was actively harassing an employee of his he never hesitated to protect them. No one could prove that the misfortune that befell the harassers was due to Joey, but everyone knew. 

Because of this, many of the employees weren’t entirely sure how to feel about their boss. 

On one hand, he could be manipulative and callous toward them. If you were no longer useful to him, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw you out on your ass. He treated them more fairly than other employers, but those who knew him best knew that they meant very little to him in the long run. 

On the other hand, he was indeed fiercely protective of them. They actually mattered to him, even if it was only because he cared about what they could do for him. His showman act fooled many people as well. So much so that many of the younger employees genuinely believed he cared about them. 

Not to mention, there were strange moments when he was actually...kind. Normally, he didn’t give paid vacations or time off, and he certainly didn’t let people leave early. When these requests were put in he’d reject them. But early in the history of the studio, Grant had come to Joey to ask if he could leave early. The workday normally ended at 6, but the lighting of the menorah for Hanukkah was usually done between 5:30 and 6, and Grant didn’t want to miss it. 

He’d fully expected Joey to tell him no. He’d fully expected to be yelled at. 

Instead, Joey had gotten a strange look in his eyes. Something tender and almost wistful. Grant was a bit taken aback. He’d never seen such an expression on Joey’s face. 

“Alright,” Joey said after a moment, his voice quiet. “You have my permission to leave early when you need it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Grant nodded and left quickly, lest Joey change his mind. 

Joey didn’t change his mind, though. Every time Grant asked for time off or to leave early, Joey granted it. Grant wasn’t an exception either. When other Jewish employees made similar requests, he granted them too. He had a fondness for his Jewish employees that no one understood. 

No one felt brave enough to ask about this, but Grant had some idea. Not that he’d ever share that idea, though. No, he knew how to keep his mouth shut. And so, Joey’s surprising compassion toward Jewish people remained a mystery to his employees.

This was why his reaction to that lawyer Mrs. Klein was so surprising. He reacted to her with such vitriol. He’d always been respectful toward other Jewish people who had come to the studio. He’d never responded with such hatred before. It was almost as if they knew each other or something.

[ruby-static]

Something for my webcomic [WARNING: Very long and VERY rambly]

Hey, you thought this idea was DYING, didn’t you? Probably not, or you just don’t care, but hey. I know I have a habit of losing motivation in writing easily, but I’m still working on it! (And I made a better story planning strategy so that I don’t lose motivation.)

Sorry I’ve been so quiet, I was really busy these past two weeks. But now I’m back and I’ve made THIS! I’ve talked a bit about this kinda dumb but fun webcomic idea I’ve had based around both OCs and mascots, and I wanted to make something that gives you an idea of what it’ll be like. And what is this you ask? Well, I made some “posters” based off of the first 7-8 issues of the first arc!

I drew them to give you an idea of how the comic is going to start out. And I also want to provide a better source of information about the comic than the disorganized mess that was the information dump at the end of my “sketch demo”.

Okay, enough of the pointless stuff. Onto the actual story details under the “Keep Reading” button. You have been warned.

Series Synopsis:

On the island of Club Penguin, the director of the PSA chose a rather unusual penguin to add to their ranks. This penguin is Anna Steele, who was chosen after the brave search and rescue of her own teacher. At face value to penguins and agents alike, she is very skilled. There is something not a lot of penguins know about her that she keeps under the surface, which is the fact that she was diagnosed with schizophrenia at 10 years old. (Ah yes, because the topic of serious mental illness DEFINITELY fits within the context of a Club Penguin comic.) Regardless, she makes a very interesting agent.

In a mixture of stories both familiar and original, Anna will be put to the test as an agent in both the PSA and EPF.

Arc 1 (Robot Arc) Synopsis:

Anna has just graduated with her two friends, and has been recruited into the Penguin Secret Agency. This is at a time where Gary’s test robots have escaped, and now they are on the loose. 

This arc will be loosely based off of both the Elite Penguin Force video game and some of the earlier PSA missions. The main differences will be that it focuses on the PSA rather than the EPF (Meaning that Dot won’t be as directly involved.) and the actual abridged versions of the game issues starts with Rookie on the Rocks. (The puffle missions will kind of be in Issue 2 and in short “intermission” comics between issues.)

The arc will last around 27 issues. Yep. 27 issues. I have planned this thing way too much. Help me.

Issue 1 (Part 1) : Search and Rescue

(I’m using a simpler shading style for these. That’s because that’s the style I’m using for the comic so it comes out sooner. Sorry if it doesn’t look that good, it won’t affect the rest of my art.)

Synopsis: 

After waking up to another minor hallucinatory episode, Anna gets ready for the final two weeks of her senior year. She is 17, and soon to graduate. She is struggling to choose between a “promising future” in acting or inventing, but before the pressure of that choice can eat at her insides like the parasite it is, something arguably more concerning happens. It turns out that her teacher and counselor, Ms. Blackfeather, has somehow gone missing. After a surprise substitute teacher and her paranoid fears inspire her, she decides to investigate.

Issue 1(Part 2): Search and Rescue

Synopsis:

Anna is out for the day, and she decides to go on a search for her teacher. Her search leads her to several different places that give her some actually solid clues. After gathering all the clues, she decides to go out and try and rescue her teacher herself. 

Issue 2: You’re In!

Synopsis:

It looks like word of her little rescue has reached the PSA, and it turns out the Director is impressed enough to recruit her! Don’t worry, she’s just as confused in this decision as you are. After meeting again with a certain jetpack wearing penguin, she receives a note and is eventually led to the arcade above the Dance Club to be offered the position.  After reluctantly accepting, she’s brought in as a ‘trainee’ to meet with the agent Puffle Handler.

It looks like things are going to be a little more interesting after her graduation.

Issue 3: Graduation!

Synopsis: 

Well, it’s finally time. It’s graduation day for Anna and her close friends Bonnie and Quil. Their childhood is now far behind them as they push off into the next phase of their young lives. Terrifying, right? Anna is left uncertain as to what her future will hold. Hell, even Bonnie and Quill seem to have a better idea of what they want to do! Well actually that’s very debatable, but everyone is ready for whatever comes next.

Issue 4: Rookie on the Rocks

Synopsis: 

Loosely based off of the EPF DS game mission of the same name, Anna is called in for a surprise first mission. Apparently, an agent named Rookie has gone missing along with reports of a reckless snowboarder. This sounded about right for the guy. Anna, who has just pulled an operation like this, is chosen to search for him.

Issue 5: In search of a Scientist (Part 1)

Synopsis: 

Loosely based off of the EPF DS game mission “Looking for Clues”, It looks like another agent has gone missing. This time, it’s Gary the Gadget Guy. And it looks like Anna has to pull off another search and rescue to find him. Easy to say, this has been one hell of a week.

Issue 6: In Search of a Scientist (Part 2)

Synopsis: 

Loosely based off of the EPF DS mission “Do It Yourself Carting”, Anna has gathered all of the clues. This leads her to the mines where she has to make a minecart of her own and find Gary. And after finding the scientist, she finds that she actually gets along with him more than she’d expect. (Which is a miracle given her difficulty trusting others.)

Issue 7: Nerds Unite!

Synopsis:

Anna is finally done with the unplanned rescue missions and is ready to ease into her new agent life. While awkwardly hanging around in the HQ waiting for orders, she decides to check up on Gary since he seemed a bit injured the last time she saw him. And after she hears an explosion in the gadget room, she immediately investigates.

 And that’s pretty much all the previews. I’ll dump a little more information below, though.

Other Arcs:

I have a plan for several other arcs if this comic actually goes anywhere. I have ideas for both original and unoriginal arcs. These arcs include the Herbert Arc, the Herbert’s Revenge Arc, the short Operation Hibernation Arc, and a completely original arc that I can’t really describe because it’s honestly a bit too big to spoil. Let’s just call it the “Shit goes down” arc that leads to Operation Blackout. I’m probably putting WAY too much thought into something like this, but hey.

Uploading:

I don’t really have much an idea as to when the first issue will finally be complete at the moment, but I’m still trying to get it done as fast as I can. While I’d prefer to release the entire issue in one go, I might upload it a few pages at a time.

And yeah, that’s pretty much it. Kind of a weird comic idea, I know, but I hope you at least enjoy the art.

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Thirty-Nine: Kalypso

I Argue with an Inanimate Object

             Kally almost slapped the Cloven Terror helm in surprise, but realized exactly how dumb that would look since she was wearing it. “You can talk?” she said out loud. “Um, to me? You’re alive?”

           She glanced towards the battle and felt a horrific sense of vertigo. As her gaze went to the peripheral of her vision, it expanded, showing everything on either side of her: the way Percy screamed on his throne, the two giants battling near them. Maybe near? Her depth perception failed.

           Disoriented, Kally returned her gaze to Alabaster, where his pale face stared back, patiently letting her get adjusted. Her vision returned to normal.

           Not all of us. We reflect the monsters they want to be. Ajax thinks silence is terror; Axel, the calculated insertion of an intelligent beast; Alabaster…

           There was a wry laugh.

           Besides, I was the first. I needed to come with an instruction manual.  

         Everything hummed. Kally could feel energy surge through her body. Green sparks erupted from the broken corner of the helm.

           Alabaster reached a hand out, pressing one of his rune pouches into her palm. He weakly gestured towards her Argonaut statue in her other hand.

           We made something for you, but, with my master in his current state, you must cast the spell. We had no time to test it.

           Kally wanted to inform the talking helmet that this was epic and cool, but they picked the wrong person. She wondered, if she had known this was how things would turn out, would she have followed Axel and Pax out of her school a few months ago?

           Without hesitation, she knew the answer was yes.

           “I can’t use magic,” she said.

           All creatures possess the ability to use magic. It’s whether you have the aptitude to excel. Now, cast with me.

           The words raced through her mind. Later, she would need to demand when Alabaster had the time for prepping this spell and exactly why he hadn’t done it before. She took Alabaster’s hand and the spell pouch, and pressed it against the Argonaut statue. If she had to guess, that statue was giving her the most skeptical look possible. When her mouth moved, she couldn’t tell if it was the voice of the helm or her own.

           “Incantara: revertetur,” Kally said, the helm’s darker tone whispering in harmony with hers.

           The statue glowed green as the rune pouch melded into the metal. Kally wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen. She didn’t feel any different, though Alabaster now looked paler. Knowing her luck, she just used all of Alabaster’s magic reserves to make her weapon cuss in squirrel instead of anything useful.[1]

           His quivering hand pointed behind her. His eyebrows furrowed, but that could have been from the pain. The ambrosia didn’t seem to have much effect on his broken jaw, though she guessed he would need a bit more than a godly pain killer for that.

           She didn’t like the idea of leaving Alabaster by himself, barely conscious, and unguarded. As though he could read her mind—maybe he could with the helm on—he withdrew his pistol and set it on his lap.

           “Okay,” Kally said, her voice cracking, “Okay. I’m going to go help the others. But, uh, I need you to protect this.” She took off her messenger bag and set it beside him. “Make sure no one else reads my journal,” she said lamely, since she couldn’t get herself to say, Yea, don’t die while I’m not looking. Or while I’m looking. Just don’t die.

           Alabaster rolled his eyes. Then, looked like he might throw up from the motion.

           As gently as she could, Kally kissed his forehead.[2]

           Then, she stood up and turned to face the battle. Preparing for the nausea and disorientation this time, she glanced to the edge of her peripheral, feeling her vision expand like a panorama photo.

           There was another monster on the field she hadn’t seen before. She didn’t remember anything in Greek mythology like this; it was huge, towering over the Roman’s field lights, matching the size of Eris. At first, her stomach clenched to think they’d have to fight another god, but it slammed into the goddess of Chaos with a, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

           “Pax?” Kally said stupidly.

           The creature was humanoid, but it looked nothing like her not-really-ex-boyfriend. Talons busted through the back of both the monster’s combat boots. Its fingers were twice the length of a normal human’s or demigods, with black more talons further extending the digits. His forearms and thighs seemed twice as thick as usual.  

           Poking through the Silver-Tongued Snake’s helm, which had also grown, the face under was narrowed and pointed, not squishy.

           When he struck Eris, Kally couldn’t follow the speed of his movements, like seeing a snake or bird wind up for an attack, then only seeing the aftereffects.

           Ah, a feathered serpent. How utterly appropriate, the Cloven Terror muttered.

           With each slash of Pax’s talons, Eris giggled hysterically, regardless of whether she successfully blocked or not. Ichor splattered her clothing; Kally couldn’t tell if it was from Eris or Pax. Each time Pax drew close, she’d lash haphazardly out with a jagged knife coated in some black liquid and a smattering of his glittery blood.

           Every time they stepped, the ground shook.

           If Kally were looking at them with her normal eyesight, Pax would appear to be gaining the upper hand: Eris was rapidly losing ground. With the expanded vision, Kally could see Eris backing them towards the strawberry fields, where one misstep from their knife-talon family squabble could squish a stray camper or ghoul.

           Eris wouldn’t mind some flattened comrades. Kally suspected creepy eagle-snake Pax might be a bit traumatized if he had to pick demigod skeletons out of his boots.

           Behind them, the camp was in mayhem. Clarisse La Rue, several other Ares campers, and one or two Apollo children tried to corner Python. The massive drakon snapped around, swallowing one camper in a single strike.[3]

           The Romans were fighting their way through hoards of ghosts and ghouls to form a single rank and protect their sides. There were so many undead, several ranks were isolated and couldn’t make it to the conglomeration around the barracks or strawberry field.

           Some of the Greeks rushing out to help collapsed onto the ground, unconscious. Certain ones would stagger back to their feet, then turn on their allies.

           In the distance, by the cabins, Phobetor tried to keep piping on his flute for his sleep-hypnosis, but Hazel Levesque and Lou Ellen prevented him from gathering a sleep army. Each time one of the magic-users blasted or slashed him, he lost one of his sleep walkers.

           Although Greeks and Romans had been unprepared and several were dead, Kally felt like they were doing pretty well without the main heroes helping.

           In her counting of the gods that had been present at the Pax Tree Growing Party, she realized she was missing one: Atë.

           A puff of smoke whirled into existence by Clarisse La Rue’s legs. Kally didn’t see Atë fully materialize, just her tire iron smashing into the daughter of Ares’ calf.

           Clarisse crumbled to the ground.

           Kally clenched her Argonaut statue, focusing her vision on the smoke, allowing the panorama to narrow to her normal vision. Somehow, someone needed to stop Pax’s half-sister. How was she supposed to predict Atë’s movements to hit her? The goddess of Ruin and Mischief only seemed to appear at the least convenient place possible. (Something to add to the list of uncannily similarities between Eris’ children.) Otherwise, her victims were randomized.

           Don’t take aim. Just throw instinctively. Don’t even look, the Cloven Terror helm instructed.

           Yea, throw blindly into the middle of an active battlefield. What could possibly go wrong? Kally thought, disliking the helm’s ill-timed sense of humor. Knowing my luck it’ll miss, fly several hours away and clock Jason Grace in the head so the others can’t save Hemera.

           You are a child of prophecy. You predict the rash and unpredictable ruin of others, it responded, seriously. And, on the Jason Grace comment, I’m not seeing a downside.    

           Lou Ellen must have told Hazel to help the Roman ranks. The child of Pluto had turned to race towards where the Romans were about to be overwhelmed by a troop of undead, despite a friendly rhino’s attempts to mow the enemy down. As animal choices go, Kally winced at what Frank had picked with his recent concussion.

           As Lou Ellen moved her mouth to prepare a spell, something to deflect Phobetor’s oncoming hatchet attack, smoke vortexed near her.

           Kally took a step backwards to prepare a throw with her discus.

           You’re too late to save the daughter of Hecate. Accept that you cannot save everyone, then blind throw. Being the Cloven Terror, you must embrace that the end will justify the means.

           But if there’s a chance—

           She wanted to argue, but a surreal sense of disassociation stunned her mind. Kally felt like her thoughts had detached from the battlefield, from knowing Lou Ellen as Alabaster’s quirky half-sister, from caring that a demigod could die if she didn’t help them.

           A tugging sensation pulled at her stomach as her eyes fluttered shut. While Kally stepped forward into a full rotation, building up the power of her throw, she pictured Atë’s terrifying red eyes.

           Power surged from her body’s swing, from her step forward, up her spine, through her arm as she arched it, and finally, releasing through her fingertips.

           A hissing sound left her hand.

           Kally opened her eyes, searching for Lou Ellen.

           Her discus steamed and glinted gold in the field lights, but it wasn’t going anywhere near Lou Ellen.

           It hissed straight towards the rhino smashing through enemy ghouls.

           Oh gods, I’m going to hit Frank and give him another concussion, Kally thought.

           When the helm said she needed to accept she couldn’t save anyone, she didn’t think it meant she’d be murdering a Canadian.

           In a split second, she glanced over to Lou Ellen, across the battlefield. The child of Hecate lay on the ground, unmoving.

           Rage filled Kally. “Why did you make me do that?!” she shouted, wondering who was wearing whom.[4] She went to tear the helm from her head in a panic.

           A black wisp of smoke puffed out ahead of the rhino.

           As Atë went to strike Frank’s skull with her tire iron, Kally’s discus smashed into Atë’s arm. The tire iron flipped harmlessly into a ghoul’s head.

           Atë vanished again.

           The rhino stopped short, looking very confused, or Kally imaged that’s how a confused rhino would look.

           The discus—instead of slamming into the ground—did something very odd. The hissing golden metal sizzled green. It slingshot back towards them.

           Kally froze as the helm laughed darkly. If I wanted you to kill the praetor, I would have made you do far worse. Hecate’s Helms are more powerful when we work in harmony with our masters. Why do you think the Leonis Caput has weakened so? Now, I suggest you either duck or catch.

           The discus was closing in, fast. All the times Kally had hit people with it, she never thought about how much it would hurt to be on the other end. Maybe Alabaster’s spell was the most extreme of rejection letters, Uh, sorry, it isn’t going to work out. I’m too awkward to say that, so I decided it would be easier to kill you with your own weapon. It’s me though, not you.

           Kally sidestepped and extended her hand. As the discus passed her, she grabbed it, spinning with the momentum to decelerate the metal without ripping off her arm. In a weird, reverse spin, she stumbled to a stop.

           Kally’s breath felt ragged. She tentatively touched the helm. Yea, it had been right about Atë, but she did not like that moment of forced battle apathy.

           We’re not done here. Now, fight in the same manner you threw.

           “I say when we’re done. I’m wearing you, not the other way around!” Kally said, though her mind was focused on, In the same manner I—?

           Confusion gave way to a horrific sense of dread.

           Reflexively, Kally lifted her discus to be level with her throat.

           As she did, nails made a screeching sound against it. Something struck her discus, hard.

           At least it was that instead of her neck.

           Kally stumbled backwards, alarmed to see black smoke swirling on either side of her and unprepared to fight a goddess.

  Sorry I’m running so late! My brother and my new sister had their Nikah yesterday, so we were celebrating that alongside Easter and it has been a crazy busy month. Hope everyone had/is having a great Easter/Passover/return of Persephone!

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed :D I feel like Kally needs to find a partner with better communication skills….

[1] Magnus might say this is very useful.

[2] Mel’s betanote, “AWWWWWWWWWWWW HOW GENTLY DOMESTIC!” Jack, “Alabaster would resent that comment.”

[3] Mel’s betacomment was just a picture of Meg from Disney’s Hercules from the moment he was eaten by the hydra <3

[4] Bought to you by the accidental alliteration association.