#i just need the medication i use to stop my period so i can y'know actually get on with my day to day life

[gomzdrawfr]

To the Gummy GOMZ, clearly you're important enough my phone auto caps you, how would you go about first introducing an oc to the possible friends/fandom. Cause I've been on the fence of introducing my boy but it's also 👀 would people be interested to hear about him, y'know?

Hello!! Uhhhhhhhhhhh well the way I did it was literally just showed my friend a doodle of my bbg Raven and said "so she's my precious and she's with Price" XD I think if your friends are genuinely interested, they'll hype you up to matter what :] if they don't wellllll maybe look for someone else who might be interested

It depends on how you want to present your oc, and everything Im going to say under read more are entirely my own opinions sooo see what works for you mate!

(Lemme preface this by saying the more you stress about what others are thinking, the less motivated to do anything oc related, so try not to overthink too much on it xD) It's easier said than done but once you get over the nervous period, everything else can run smoother than usual, anyway!

The simplest way to do it, is literally like what I did, show a picture/a meme/picrew/art/mood board, anything that represents your oc, and say "hey! this guy's been in my head for a while now and I thought yall might wanna see em :3"

The least awkward ways are through memes and Im not even kidding, you could show your clip of someone doing something dumb or your oc core and just go "dude this reminds me of my oc" and go from there

^ those, are specifically for if you want to introduce your oc to your friends

v these, are more like if you want to make a public post generally, a lot of these are more like how do you want people to be interested/how to hook people in, basically they're my opinion from a creator perspective, learned from seeing other people's posts and from my own experiences!

What is the main focus of your OC? are they a character paired with a canon character? are they their own character in their own universe and such?

(Assuming your boy is from COD or specific fandom) Use canon characters to your advantage

If the OC is someone who is paired with a canon character, you can introduce them by putting the attention on said canon character first, then introduce your OC through canon character's pov or something like that

People are more often used to seeing something they already know first hand before they focus on the new things, what I'm trying to say is people are more likely to stop scrolling if they see "Nikolai" first in a post rather than "[name that no one knows]"

For example, if you're doing an incorrect cod quote style of post, start with Soap/Ghost (or like any cod character really) saying something then add your OC into the mix, then the people who are reading the post would go "huh? who's the new guy?" Yk? hook your audience in when they least expect it

Soap: why the hell are you in the kitchen, baking...cookies?

Ghost: I got bored

OC: I lost controlled of my life

Ghost: also OC chugged like the entire milk carton so we need to buy more tomorrow

Soap: ????

The funnies, memes or like...something hot are more likely to grab attention, you could go gungho and explain that your OC is a super cool medic or sniper and all that but it's not that interesting if you consider half if not 80% of cod fandom OCs are bound to be similar bcuz it's a military game (I'm not saying no one here has unique OC btw, I am being general here)

Imo, I feel like a full post introducing the character from their name to divisions to legions to family name to dog 1 2 3 names are less interesting. Yes, these kinds of posts are important if someone wants to know more about them, but using that as the first post is a bit draggy and can make people lose interest easily! Think about it, using COD guys for example, when we played the game or watched any playthrough, if you saw Ghost you're immediately interested because the way he was presented - some big guy with a skull face, not because of a full line text in your face xD

You don't need a whole backstory, just a name, a callsign or what they do is enough for an introduction

Visuals are the way to go! If you have a photo of your oc, doesn't matter a faceclaim, picrew, art or even a whole mood board, posting those are more likely to gain interests

Some examples of OC posts to share, maybe you can get inspo from em too :3 (also it's my chance to geek out some other and my friend's OCs HAHA)

milkywayhou and their oc snow - this was one of the first few post I founf from their page, literally knew nothing about em but the angst left a strong impression

corporalellie and their shadow company OCs (they also have some spicy stuff involving their ocs) - shocking coming from someone who doesn't care about Graves but hey, if the oc stuff are cool then we're cool LMAO and also half my ig moots all have their oc in Shadow Company so it was inevitable to avoid xD

Vos Videmus and their oc Jax (blood warning) - I knew their OC since they commissioned me before, but the renders and the vibes they have are >>>

munyon and their oc Phantom - another shadow OC, again, 1 visual + a few simple line for introduction :]

thybreadmolds and their oc Vulture - this comic is just >>> we're greeted by the canon characters first (ghost and soap) and then he OC in a different color entirely (grabs the focus), very cool way to introduce their oc imo!

(so far I've only ever rambled about art based examples, so have some text base) can't forget Father's OCs Carol and Kimmy, altho the focus of the post wasn't on OC, it's still a nice way to introduce new characters smoothly into established relationships

sleepyhead 1o1 and their oc Juliette - they were excited to show me their oc and I like their lil intro :3

tim and their oc Chariot - beautiful parallel

Im biased since bressy is genuinely the person who made me want to have a cod oc in the first place, they're my biggest motivator and have been supporting me since day 1 :3 so have their oc Ava (this one and this one)

bunnysnared and their oc Fledge - a cute and fun way to introduce your oc using character meme template

when it comes to cod OCs I cannot leave sleepyconfusedpotato and their oc Jade out -w- (I think this was the first post I saw from em and loved it)

alypink and their oc Aleks - <333333333 I love their AdlerAleks arts :) they do a lot of oc stuff with others too!\

_ohholy on twitter about their OC Rachel Saunders - Part 1, Part 2 (they have so many good arts....I love them)

[sprunkimortality]

What does everyone think of Saves?

Oren: "He's a pretty chill old man, dude. There was this one time, though, where he saw me skating and wanted to try it out. I was like 'yo Grandpa Saves, I don't think you can handle that bro.' And he's all like, 'oh no I'll be fine,'  and then he like...fell off. Like, badly, bro. He had to stay in bed for days. I gotta give him credit for the determination though, man."

Raddy: "He overestimates himself sometimes. He won't listen when we tell him he can't do somethin'. He also calls me Reddy, or whatever kind of other name he comes up with. I tried to correct him before, but then I eventually just gave up."

Clukr: "His deteriorating memory is certainly an issue of concern- in fact, he’s part of the 4% of elderly Sprunkies that have it. Medications that I had professionals prescribe to him have stopped working eventually. It is worrisome to say the least…”

Fun Bot: “I’ve heard from Simon that Mr. Saves used to be able to dance pretty well! I don’t believe he can do it anymore, though. He seems like he forgot the moves.”

Vineria: “I have a bad feeling about him. His aura…feels wrong.”

Gray: "He's nice. I help him at home. He needs the extra paws."

Brud: "Is me friend! He give funny cuppa to me. Me eat! Delicus."

Garnold: “Clukr keeps tryna fix his memory loss. At this point, I don’t think anyone can. Besides, even if he forgets things a lot more often now, he’s still Saves, isn’t he? He’s got a lot of love in him, that’s what matters.”

OWAKCX: "H- H- He is...k- kind! Hoohoo-! And h- he doesn't get mad- e- even if I- aha- e- even if I m-mess up and a- accidentally bump i- into him- AAAAAH!! I'M STILL SORRY!!"

Sky: "He's a cool old man. He gets my name wrong a lot, but that's cause of how old he is. I guess that's a part of growing up. I...don't like the idea of forgetting my friends and family members' names though."

Mr. Sun: "Ah yes, our beloved Collector! Always cherishing the simplest things! Back then, though, he was more of an adventurer, who kept souvenirs from his travels! I suppose he needs his rest now, though."

Durple: "Oh, yes, the antique majesty of this town! He was already here when me and my beloved bestie had just moved in. He's quite a pleasure to be with! We’d look through his old gallery of photos and, well, most of them are rather faded to visual obscurity so I can’t quite tell what they were—but there are some that retain their clarity! I didn’t know until then that he had the most luscious brown hair! Oh, if only I was there during that time period to style it well! His current aged hair is rather thin and hard to work with without damaging. The best I can do is comb it. Oh well.”

Mr. Tree: "We don't speak to each other very much, but we bask in peaceful silence together. It's therapeutic for the both of us. There are also times when I would hear him in his own home, talking to himself…I have made it my duty to keep such self-conversations confidential.”

Simon: "He is the bestest, awesome-est, coolest grandpa in the whole entire Sprunki world!! Boy, I've known him since he still had orange hair on his head instead of lavender! And back when he didn't forget as much! He would tell me cool stories, like how he met all kinds of people and went to all kinds of places! He's so AWESOME!! I'll always love him like he was my actual grandpa!"

Tunner: "We met 'fore I became Sheriff. He was quite the old geezer, even then. High in spirit, findin' the simplest joys in life. That collection of his used to be more vibrant, y'know? But as he aged, so did th' stuff in it. One of 'em's a gift I gave 'im as thanks for supportin' my journey into becomin' th' town sheirff. T'was a star plushie. The small kind that you can hold in yer paw. He loved it. Still does, even if he doesn't remember that I gave it to 'im."

Mr. Fun Computer: “I’ve only met him a couple of times in person. Understandable, since he’s said to live in a small house among the trees. Whenever we do meet in person, he wouldn’t know how to operate me. Which is fine, because I guide him every time! He seems nice.”

Wenda: "Oh! He's pretty nice, y'know. Like, typical nice old man. He likes listening to my tea and like, sometimes he does these really funny reactions. I can see why Gray likes him and all that."

Pinki: "He’s very sweet! Whenever I visit him, he always prepares a cup of tea for me. The sweet kind, too! It’s a weird thing how he forgets my name a lot, and yet still knows how I like my tea. The brain works wonders, as they say! Heehee~! It’s no wonder he’s the town’s grandpa!”

Jevin: "The grandfather clock that ticks quite slow, his memories tend to come and go. Above him looms not a sense of incoming doom; he lets not his day be filled with gloom. His mind is fractured yet his heart remains strong, though I am not certain for how long..."

Black: "Must I be honest...? Sigh. Well. I'll admit it. I like Saves. He's the first Sprunki I remember meeting in Smalltowne. He wasn't afraid of me. We talk often. I might as well live in his house too, since I regularly visit him. He's...a dear friend to me. Actually...when I came to Smalltowne, I didn't remember my name. I only had vague recollections of what my life was like before coming here. Saves was the one who named me. Mr. Black. It stuck, I guess. Even if I knew my birth name, though...I'll always cherish the name Mr. Black. It feels special...he's special. I can't thank him enough for being so...lenient and patient with me. And in turn, I try to be patient to him too. We both have our struggles with fading memories. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with it all alone."

Ciqu: "Law-abiding. I hold no strong opinions against him."

Sprinkles: “I love him so much! I mean, he’s my adoptive grandpapa, how could I not? He might not remember things sometimes, and he does sometimes get my name wrong, but honestly? I can’t complain. I think being his little Sparkle is wonderful! He’s the only parent I’ve ever known, he says he got me when I was a baby. He gave me this star necklace of mine, which is from his collection of super cool stuff! It’s a full-on treasure trove! I wouldn’t trade him for any other parent in the world.”

Calvin: “He’s a pretty nice guy. I mean, he is Sprinkles’ legal guardian and he takes care of her. He forgets stuff a lot though. But I guess he can’t help that. He’s a good guy to talk to if you feel like you need to share something on your mind. And about his collecting habit, I wonder if he has any ninja weapons in that collection of his…”

[spoonless-sunflower]

I finally bought most of the accessories and stuff for my bridesperson outfit for my bestie's wedding.

I feel anxious and excited to try everything on together but the jumpsuit in wearing won't arrive until March and then still needs to be tailored too.

im mostly nervous bc I've always hated formal wear so I'm particularly bad at shopping for it. I also felt like it was really hard to accessorize in a way that felt like ME, y'know? Everything felt like it would accidentally become too feminine. Esp since I've grown out my hair. It's the longest it's been in like 6 years or so. I don't have any shaves either.

I was actually thinking about getting a new hairstyle or at least maybe buzzing in a little quarter shave but the bestie is being super anal about the wedding and is begging me not to make any drastic changes until after the wedding in April. I agreed at the time since I wasn't set on any particular style. But IDK I'm kinda itching to do iiit. She's not the type that would actually ask me to not cut my hair if I really wanted to I think so Ill prob sit on it until after my period (bc im so heightened and I wanna make sure this isn't a PMS fueled urge to do a silly little thing to my hair that I'll regret) and then just let her know "hey it's fine I'm gonna buzz a side off" lol.

I feel a little bad about it bc I'm sure it'll stress her out a bit but she's always been an understanding person that I can have an open conversation with so I think it'll be ok. Also even tho her wedding is important, so is my agency over my body and I wanna make sure I don't fall too hard into people pleasing patterns that I used to have. Self expression is such a hard boundary for me and my friends know that.

Uuhghh I hope my stupid wedding outfit looks cool man. I don't wanna look too prim and pretty. I wanna be like, 25% pretty and 75% "what is that thing?" 😔

I feel like the top surgery doesn't make me look any less feminine bc I'm curvy which I don't mind bc I love the way I look rn post surgery but I feel like all my east coast friends are gonna see me at this wedding boobless for the first time and just go "wow did you lose weight" like my college friends did and like not realize I'm boobless until like a hug or a hand doesn't hit a titty 😭😂

Uuuu and that too!! I did actually lose soo much weight bc of my tummy issues and medication changes. That plus the removal of my double fucken Ds and I've never been thinner. I gotta prepare a response to all the weight comments. I think most good friends I have know not to comment on my weight or body EVER (I was vicious for about a year or two snapping at people who compliment my weight loss when I had my first bought of stomach issues around 2020 I think. Id literally just reply with "Thanks I couldn't eat for two weeks ☺️" and make everyone uncomfortable so they'd stop assuming everyone loses weight on purpose??? But I'm grown now and I don't want to be snappy or rude and I'd like to tackle the situation with kindness maybe some humor like we are healed in this house 😭 I think I'll check Google and Reddit and see how some other people handled situations like this. Having a funny lighthearted comeback in my pocket to diffuse with would be lovely.

This whole thing has been an incoherent ramble I have period brain and in riddled with thoughts and anxieties.

[ilikeyoshi]

i've been reading lately that pmdd can get worse as you age and honestly, yeah, i think that's happening. when i started taking continuous birth control to help with the hormonal fluctuations it worked super well, but it seems to just work... less and less... and lately whenever i've had to take a break on the meds for a breakthrough bleed the emotions just get??? bad???

i've been inexplicably sad and paranoid the past 2-3 days and it feels really bad after so long of Being Okay. like. i don't WANT to go back to this. i thought i was just tired because chronic illness but i think it's depression. it doesn't help that periods are probably my WORST gender dysphoria trigger.

i have an appt with my obgyn in november and some ideas of what we might be able to do, but it's just. tiring, you know. i'm getting so tired of fighting it and i know hysterectomy with bilateral whatchamacallit is like, a Big Fucking Deal, but i just. don't care? i can't make myself care anymore i just want to stop bleeding and i want to stop being physically capable of bearing children and it's just making me crazy and spirally lately. pmdd + gender dysphoria is actually the evilest combination imaginable.

:( i know in all likelihood i'm going to have to go through all the stupid hoops, like uid and uterine ablation, before doctors will let me just pull everything out and bin it—and if any of that works that's great but it all feels so.... subject to failure?? it feels like i'm just delaying something i'll nevertheless need to do anyway, when everything else stops working. uids have to be replaced, and uterine ablation is not only more likely to just give you light periods than no periods, but if it gets worse again it sounds like i can only get MAYBE one more ablation? so what if it comes back after the second one. assuming i get lucky and the ablations actually STOP the periods instead of lightening them.

like. it just feels like a bunch of time and money and pain for something that isn't super guaranteed to work. especially because my mom had a breast cancer that eats up estrogen, so like, part of me is thinking, if i get the hysterectomy-and-etc NOW, and enter surgical menopause NOW, i can still TAKE the estrogen HRT that makes said menopause infinitely easier to deal with. that might not be an option as i get older! if i develop the same breast cancer my mom (and grandma (and great grandma)) had, i won't be able to take the estrogen anymore. y'know??? it just seems like something that's more likely to backfire on me.

i dunno. i talk to the obgyn in november but i'm just. having a really bad week (breakthrough week, so i can't take the birth control, and being off it makes me crazy again) and i just want this to be over. i KNOW how to make it be over. i don't care if i have to take medication for the next 30 years or whatever, i take medication i'm likely going to need for life already, it's just another fuckin daily pill in the caddy. i don't care. i just want it to be over. i want to donate these organs to someone who wants them and can use them and that's Not Me. that's never been me. childbirth has scared and horrified me since i was a tiny little kid, and despite what adults told me it never, ever got better. i think about a fetus in my gut and i burst into tears. it's so fucking scary. i want this thing gone so i know it CANNOT happen.

i get why it's not ideal, i get why it's a last resort, i get it affects my bone and heart health, i just. i just don't care. it's been almost 29 years of being told "i'd want kids someday, i'll get pregnant someday" and then almost 20 years of the bleeding and the constant reminder that i'm a Woman™ and i can get pregnant and my body is SO INCREDIBLY READY TO GO in making a baby and it makes me wanna rip my guts out!!!! dude!!!! i hate this body i hate this anxiety i hate these constant unending reminders and i don't wanna fuckin DO IT for 20-30 more years i want to live NOW. i want to feel safe in my own skin NOW. fuck!

anyway. waiting for november is hard. being in the middle of a pmdd episode fucking sucks. i just feel bad all the time. i just want it to be over.

[crymeariveronceagain]

thoughts on Keeper. after reading it again.

this is still one of my favorites. Like, top three in the series, 10/10, for sure.

but here are my thoughts in a periodically sarcastic and screechy format:

Oh my gosh I'm so in love with 29% untraumatized Keefe you don't understand how beautiful this boy is and how wholesome this child is and I would like to just pick him up and give him a hug so badly

Here's a great idea! You find a child. You take the child home. You run no medical tests on the child. You give her no information or crash course about the culture she's now living in. You wave goodbye. You keep secrets from her. She gets kidnapped and is presumed dead! You cry at her funeral. Congrats! You are now Alden Vacker and every other STUPID. FRICKING. ADULT. IN THIS BOOK.

Okay, but seriously, Sophie didn't know she was breaking the law. She got two tribunals for breaking laws she didn't know existed. They never once took that ignorance into account. Like stars, it's your stupid fricking rules that have stupid things forbidden(like?!?!?! Stars?!?!?!? in the sky!?!?!?! That are clearly locatable without special!?!?!?! Equipment?!?!?!?) and Sophie is brand new leave her alone stars.

I honestly think the best cover for Alden Vacker being Neverseen is going to be the fact that his son is Neverseen. Anything that can be traced back to his family or even Everglen can be shifted off onto Alvar.

MARELLA??? SO MUCH SASS IN THAT LITTLE GIRL??? HOW??? Also, she's got so much fire in her so naturallly I can't believe no one thought "ah, a Pyrokinetic".

Fintan. What is u doing. There's an actual line where it was like "Fintan supported the banning of pyrokinesis" like hell he did yeah totally that's def why he's plotting to overthrow the elven government now yep was totally on board with all that

Man, Stina really is just Heather Chandler in a child-friendly package. Like, honestly, SHUT UP HEATHER.

Dex, your mother is a froster, stop talking about how stupid frosters are. And y'know what. Queen Elsa of Arendelle would disagree about the usefulness of frosting btw. So get rekt.

GRADY. EDALINE. TAKE A DEEP BREATH. BREATHE. NOW ADMIT YOU LOVE YOUR ADOPTED DAUGHTER AND STOP STRANGLING HER AND JUST LOVE HER. DEATH HAPPENS AND IT HAPPENED TO YOU AND NOW YOU NEED TO LOVE WHAT YOU'VE GOT BEFORE YOU LOSE IT AGAIN AND--

Elwin you do be makin so many jokes about seeing Sophie again I'm beginning to think you're a prophet.

Cassius can still go die in a hole <3 uwu

Biana why do you pale when someone mentions how your dad forced you to be friends with Sophie. If it's defemation and easily explained you don't need to freak out that much, sure it's embarassing but why did you react like that.... Stina's full of it we know she is so honey-- u good, Bee?

Hi I'd Like To Stress Again How Stupid And Pointless The Attempts At Integrating Sophie Into The Elven Society Were Every Single Adult Involved In This Situation Was To Blame How Dare You, by Fall Out Boy.

Oh wow she got her inflicting in the first book i forgot about that

Sophie Foster is going home guys and everything falls apart later this book would have been less satisfying but still pretty good as a stand alone if Shannon Messenger had unfortunately passed away

[fictionplumis]

A Lambert/Aiden Thing

Okay, bear with me here, this might be long. And maybe at one point I'm gonna try to RP this but unfortunately there's no one on the Lambert/Aiden RP tags on the site I use. So I'm just gonna put this here for now. And if anyone wants to, oh I don't know, write a fic or whatever based on this, PLEASE link me 'cause I wanna read it but anyway. 

Set after the Wild Hunt, one of those rare AUs where Aiden genuinely did not survive.

While traveling together as super cool witchers, Geralt ends up telling Ciri all about helping Lambert get revenge for his Cat friend, right? 

Time passes, and Ciri starts trying to really solidify her control with her ability. Geralt ends up spending more and more time at Corvo Bianco and Ciri is out on the Path, but every so often a girl needs a break, y'know? So sometimes she'll disappear for a couple days, maybe a few weeks, just off in another world. It's a good way to practice. 

In one world, she ends up running into this man named Aiden. (This world being our world. Not a modern Continent thing, not some point in the future, I mean OUR world.) They talk, and he ends up mentioning his roommate Lambert, and the more he says about Lambert, the more it becomes obvious that it's LAMBERT. 

Now Ciri has absolutely no intention of doing anything about this. It's not her place, telling Lambert would be an AWFUL idea, and going to meet that world's version of her uncle just seems like a bad idea. But she is curious about what kind of man can inspire such a strong sense of friendship in Lambert, so she decides to pop into that world every so often, "accidentally" find Aiden, and just kind of get to know him a little bit. Plus it's another way to practice her abilities, not just pin-pointing and traveling to a specific world, but to where a specific person is. 

She does that on and off a few times, enough where her and Aiden are sort of acquaintances. 

Now in this world Aiden isn't a saint, okay? This boy pretty much grew up on the streets. He has a past that he's trying to get away from. He knows his way around a knife fight, has ample experience running from the cops, and has been through so much therapy. (I don’t get into detail here but any kind of modern Aiden I usually have some kind of neurotypical. Might be something as simple as ADHD, though I do love bipolar!Aiden and psychotic!Aiden as well. I’d imagine at this point he’s good at managing it, with the help of therapy and medication. Now the therapy wouldn’t be all that accessible with where this is going, but Ciri could help him make sure he has his medications. Hell, if wanted to have him keep things consistent with his therapy too, he could move down to appointments maybe once a month and Ciri could make sure he could get to them, the same way she helps attain other things later on in this snippet. I absolutely support positive and accurate depictions of mental illness, I’m not just using the terms bipolar or psychotic lightly.) And unfortunately his past ends up catching up with him. 

Ciri happens to get there just in time. Before Aiden can end up with a bullet in his eye, she's teleporting him to the first safe place that comes to her mind: Corvo Bianca.

Now poor Aiden has no fucking idea what happened. One second his old "friends" have him backed into a corner with a gun to his face and the next he's experiencing the worst motion sickness of his life and throwing up in a pot that smells like shit. He spends the next two days sleeping off some major jet lag and when he comes to, he had no fucking idea where he is. 

Then comes Geralt and Ciri having to awkwardly explain the whole witcher thing to him, the Continent in general, the time period, the fact that monsters and sorceresses and magic exists in this world, all that happy shit. And it's a lot to process. Before they can even get to the whole "do you want to go back to your world and handle the deal with people trying to kill you thing" Lambert shows up. 

At first Aiden doesn't even think, he's just like oh thank fuck a familiar face, I know you hate hugs but I think this can be forgiven because I've had the weirdest most stressful week of my life.

And then he's like, wait a second. Lambert is... Thicker. 

Like Lambert's always been a very physically active guy, he's a mechanic or whatever you want a modern day Lambert to do, but his shoulders weren't THAT broad before and under those spiky metal arm things are some impressive biceps. Also what are those spiky metal arm things? Lambert, what are you wearing? How the fuck did you get here? Holy shit your eyes--

He puts two and two together. Right, the name Geralt sounded familiar because Lambert's mentioned the name. That's his adopted brother. So if this Geralt is a witcher, then Lambert in this world is a witcher. And Lambert is also having a minor breakdown because, y'know, AIDEN. 

Let's just say Geralt warned him. Explained the whole situation and asked Lambert to come back to help with this, and Lambert was very torn because it's not HIS Aiden. It'll hurt too much, to see someone so much like Aiden but just slightly to the left. He knew it would. He just didn’t expect this Aiden to be SO MUCH like his Aiden. By this point Aiden has had to change his clothes into some of Geralt's trousers with a belt to hold them up and a loose tunic, but it's fucking him. 

They all talk a bit. Aiden pretty much admits that yeah, there are people after him. And they probably won't stop until he's dead. That's how gangs work, y'know? You can't really... Get out. He tried, he really fucking did, but even if it's not the ones that cornered him before, it'll be someone else. So yeah, Ciri saved his life and going back is probably not the best idea. 

Now I absolutely don't want to fuck over another world's Lambert just to make Continent!Lambert happy, so we're gonna say the two were really good friends. They were roommates, they were close, Lambert was pretty much Aiden's only friend, but they weren't lovers. Lambert was with a woman named Keira. A doctor. They were good for each other, y'know? When Lambert first started dating her, Aiden thought she was kind of a bitch but as time went on she kind of mellowed out. It wasn't that she became less full of herself, but more that she actually felt confident enough that she didn't feel the need to try to take on the world anymore. And Lambert's happy with her. So leaving Lambert behind in that world kind of sucks, yeah, but he'll be okay. And this Lambert is so similar that to Aiden, it doesn't feel like he's losing someone. 

Now we have Aiden getting to experience the Continent for the first time. Getting to experience witchers for the first time. 

Lambert. Sword fighting. 

And that's so fucking cool. Can you please teach me that?

Which of course has Lambert a little iffy, because this Aiden is human and no fucking away is he letting this Aiden anywhere near a monster, but Aiden is like, nah, relax, I just want to learn because sword fighting is really cool. Look, I'm really good with a knife, teach me some cool sword stuff. 

So Lambert gets to teach Aiden some cool sword stuff. And how to make bombs, which Aiden LOVES. And maybe some alchemy, too, because Aiden asks about the potions and Lambert is very adamant that he never drinks any but Aiden likes at least knowing how to make them. It's fascinating. You all fucking know you would love to make potions out of gross monster parts and herbs if you had the chance, don't even lie. Lambert even shows off some signs and Aiden is delighted. 

This eventually leads to one of those serious conversations about what it takes to become a witcher, and what all Lambert went through, and how people view witchers. And Aiden gets it, maybe not completely, but he gets the just of it. Because he knows about the other Lambert's past, and his shitty father, and all that stuff. And Aiden's brown, and people don't like that. And he's gay, and people don't like that either. Lambert's whole thing kind of reminds him of the X-men. 

And Lambert doesn't know what the fuck that is so Aiden explains comics and superheroes and the X-men to him. 

Because in his world they don't have witchers or magic, so they make up stories that have people like witchers, that have magic, and in those stories, those people sometimes face very similar prejudices. So to Aiden, Lambert is a lot like a superhero. 

And Lambert's like uh huh, no way, definitely not any kind of hero, that's pretty boy's job. 

To which Aiden responds, no, I definitely think you're a hero, even if you don't, so suck it up. 

And they probably kiss and stuff. 

Eventually Aiden gets restless and he's curious about the rest of the Continent, and he's tired of wearing Geralt's ill-fitting clothes because he's used to skinny jeans and shit so he gets Lambert to take him into Beauclaire for clothes. 

And Beauclaire is fucking beautiful, he loves it. 

The clothes are okay. Eventually he just asks Lambert what he used to wear and they go see the armorer instead. Aiden's not entirely sure about it, because Lambert looks like he's swallowed a mouthful of tacks when he sees Aiden in the Cat armor, even without the chest piece or the gauntlets, but Lambert assures him that he's fine. 

It just doesn't quite ease the restlessness. So the next time Ciri pops in, Aiden asks for her help and together they scheme. The next day, Aiden tells Lambert to go find something to entertain himself with for awhile because he needs to spend some quality time with his BFF. 

A few hours later they find Lambert sulking out in the vineyard, Aiden looking fine and fresh in a brand new pair of skinny jeans that show off his very nice ass, and some well-fitting combat boots that aren't nearly as durable as actual leather boots on the Continent but they have studs and buckles and look really cool.

Lambert is torn between thinking Aiden looks like a fucking idiot and thinking that he's never wanted to fuck Aiden more in his life.

Then Aiden drops the news that he also put together an outfit for Lambert because in his world, when you're interested in courting someone, the first thing you do is take them on a date. And he wants to take Lambert on the most stereotypical first date. What's that? Why the movies, of course! There's an X-men movie that just came out (I don't know which one, okay? I don't watch the X-men. You figure it out.) and he thought, maybe, he could show Lambert a little bit of the world he came from. They wouldn't be there for long, and they wouldn't be going to a theater anywhere near where Aiden's old gang would be. Nothing would be tied to Aiden's name, and he would be with Lambert, so he would be safe. 

It's a big change from the Continent. 

Lambert's never seen so many fucking people in his LIFE. Aiden had warned him about cars and technology and Lambert is pretty quick witted so while he's absolutely amazed, he manages to take it in stride pretty well. The thing that throws him off the most is when they go to buy popcorn and the girl at the counter goes, "Oh my god, I love your contacts! Where did you get them? They look so real!" 

Lambert doesn't know what the fuck contacts are, but Aiden steps in all smooth-like, "Fuck, Lamb, you've had those forever, haven't you? I think he got 'em off some cosplay site." 

Then he has to explain later that sometimes people put these little discs in their eye to help them see better or to change the color of their eyes for costume purposes. To which Lambert has the understandable reaction of, "Who in their right fucking mind would CHOOSE to do this to their fucking eyes?" 

Well, y'know, they can take contacts out whenever they want. It's a cosmetic thing. They don't know what you had to go through to get your eyes to look like that. You'll probably have some old conservative people eyeing you weird, thinking you're some Satanist or whatever, but most other people will just think it's a cool choice you made, to put those in to go to the movies.

The world is weird. Lambert can't decide if he likes it or hates it. 

He definitely likes the movie, though. And the popcorn. Probably finds the soda to be a little too sweet for his taste. There's still a lot of people, which makes him a bit on edge, but they came to the theater at an off time and not many people are actually in the room with them. They sit at the back and hold hands and Lambert decides he loves it. Ciri picks them up like a proud parent driving her kid and her kid's date home, only instead of driving she's teleporting and neither of them are her kids but whatever. 

But Aiden isn't done scheming. When they get back he tells Lambert to stay put and gets Ciri to take him back for one more little errand. 

A couple hours later they clang back into Corvo Bianco. CLANG back because each of them has a weird metal cart piled high with items and they're laughing their asses off. 

So you might be wondering, how did Ciri and Aiden afford clothes? They stole them. How did Aiden afford movie tickets and popcorn? He pick pocketed. Boy grew up on the streets. He knows how to steal wallets. And now they performed the greatest "run out the doors of Walmart with carts full of shit" EVER. Because as soon as they were out of sight, they teleported, no one the wiser. 

Aiden is thrilled with his non-purchases. Firstly, he has about a year's worth of toilet paper. he throws a package at Lambert, who's like, what the fuck is this. Toilet paper. What do you use it for? To wipe your ass after you shit, Lambert. Trust me. Once you use it, you'll never go back. It's a blessing, you'll thank me for it. There might not be indoor plumbing here, but god dammit, I want toilet paper.

He then hands Ciri two boxes of pads. Yeah, she was there shopping with him, but he just kind of dumped stuff in carts without explaining anything, and while Ciri knows what most of the things are, do you really think she's thought about how other worlds deal with menstruation? Because I menstruate, and the thought would genuinely not cross my mind. I would continue using whatever method I used back in my original world. So Aiden leans in to whisper what they are, because he's polite, and he becomes her favorite uncle just like that. And when Geralt and Lambert are like, uh, what? She tells them it's for menstruating and, "Oh, don't make that face at me, Geralt. I bleed, it happens."

Aiden admits that most of the other purchases are for Lambert, and when Lambert tires to protest Aiden makes it very clear that everything he bought is NORMAL in his world. Not even luxury, just NORMAL, so Lambert just needs to shut up and let Aiden make his life a little easier. 

First up, sunglasses. Because Lambert mentioned how painful it can be to take Cat and then step out into sunlight before the potion has run out. He tosses a pair at Lambert, who tries them on with a frown and is like, "Oh. Huh. Alright. These might actually be pretty useful." Aiden got himself a pair too. They match. There's also a tent. It folds up pretty small, but witchers travel, right? And Lambert mentioned how shit it is to camp in the rain, so here's a tent that’s better than the shit you can buy on the Continent. You lay out your bedroll in it, and you don't have to worry about bugs, and it helps protect you against the weather. It's small, but it looks kind of easy to put up, should be durable enough. 

And maybe just big enough for two, because Aiden isn't stupid. Eventually Lambert will need to take to the Path again, and Aiden wants to comes too. He wants to see the Continent. He can't help with the monsters, he knows, but maybe he can do something else to help them earn money. Who knows, right? This world isn't run by capitalism. He could make a living doing nearly anything. He can figure something out. 

He even got a water filter, and a couple filter replacements because witchers can probably drink any kind of stagnant water they want but he would rather not die of dysentery, thanks. And he got himself a sleeping bag. And he got Lambert a very, very soft fleece blanket just because he thought Lambert would like it. (He does.) Oh, also, Lambert, smell this soap. And this shampoo. Using a bar of soap has not done Aiden's hair any favors, he got actual fucking shampoo. The BIG bottle. And now Lambert has some nice pomade to use in his hair instead of bear fat. Won't make his hair greasy plus it smells better. Also there's bubble bath, just because. And beard oil for Lambert. Some moisturizer. Here, Lambert, put on some chap stick. Trust me, you'll love it. 

They set out on the Path and it's not always easy because Aiden worries CONSTANTLY. But Lambert is good at what he does. The few times they're ambushed, Lambert always keeps Aiden safe, because in this household everyone fucking survives. 

Aiden likes seeing Lambert in action. He swoons and calls Lambert his hero. 

There are some stunning places to visit on the Continent. Aiden's favorite are the elven ruins they sometimes come across. Only after Lambert deals with the wraiths, though. 

Aiden learns how to play Gwent. He's not that good at it. Aiden learns how to cheat at Gwent. He's VERY good at it. Lambert teaches him how to fish with bombs. Aiden is fucking delighted. 

Eventually he realizes how he can make money. He copywrites Disney. 

He's no bard. He can't sing or play an instrument. But he CAN tell stories, and no matter how much you hate Disney, there are probably a lot of Disney movies everyone can quote by heart, and they're either already time-period approved, or they can easily be adapted into something time period approved. Lambert comes back from a hunt to find the entire tavern listening to Aiden with rapt attention while he's in the front of the room putting on a one man performance of the whole, "I am Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," while jumping back and forth to play each part. He's clearly having a blast with it, because who doesn't love telling other people every little detail about their favorite movie? 

As he's heading upstairs with Lambert, he just keeps raving about how he can't believe he actually made money with that. He hands Lambert a handful of coins, just like, "I don't know how much money this is, but look, it's money!"

Which probably leads to some conversation about capitalism and how easy it was in his world to feel insignificant, to feel like everything is pointless, and how much happier he is with Lambert. How it's even given him a new outlook on the world he came from. He doesn't want to go back, per se, but he doesn't want to completely leave either. He wants to show Lambert the best parts of it, to re-experience his world through Lambert, to really feel the amazement of it all the way he's supposed to, the way that's so easy to stop doing when you're actually living there. It's so easy to take it all for granted, but when you're showing it to someone who's experiencing it for the first time, you can really appreciate it all. 

So every winter they head back to Toussaint and Ciri takes them back long enough for them to do something FUN. They play laser tag. They rope Geralt, Eskel, and Ciri into doing an escape room with them. They go kayaking. They do one of those rope courses and zip-line things. They go to an amusement park. A water park. They walk around a nature trail. They go to a comic convention. (Lambert wears his armor and so many people want pictures with him. He's just sad Aiden wouldn't let him bring his swords, the kids would have fucking loved to see a sword.) They have so much fun. And Aiden stocks up on modern supplies for the year while he's there. Another year's worth of toilet paper, a new tent, another fuzzy blanket, a few pairs of sunglasses because Lambert always ends up breaking his, a nice backpack because Lambert really likes having a bunch of different pockets in his bag for organizing things.

And you know what? Give it ten years, Aiden's bordering on his forties, and he finds some way to make himself functionally immortal. Magic, fairies, a curse, a blessing, I don't know, I don't care. Their plan becomes to live until one of them dies of something--probably Lambert, because he's the one Aiden always has to patch up (he now always buys a very large, well stocked first-aid kit from his world too) what with fighting monsters and all, and the other will follow. It's morbid, sure, but it works for them. With the way things are going, neither of them thinks they'll need to do that anytime soon anyway.

Basically, they live happily ever after, okay? 

HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

[darkromanceblackburn]

Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 3

Authors Note: Wow....This one is long, but I was in such a big writing mood for these two that I had to do it. We learn some of Xaviera’s memories, we see some sparks flying and we see how two souls bond into one.

Chapter 1 HERE

Chapter 2 HERE

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova @the-slasher-files​

Warnings: 18+ because there are sexual scenes and straight up SMUT

Words: 5.8k

After that incident, Xaviera stayed the rest of the night preparing for the hunt; cleaning her sniper rifle, a weapon that took the life of so many poachers across the globe, from Asia to Africa and even Europe, annihilating greedy humans that wanted to take lives of animals for their own egoistical gains.

Then there were the small arrows. She smirked, remembering how some mocked the small weapons, insignificant at first glance, but only if they knew what they packed, they would have thought twice.

Xaviera learned that size sometimes doesn't help you when faced with a creature that has enough venom to put down an elephant. Her favorites were the snake neurotoxins, like the one of the black African mamba, it's venom could kill a human in 20 minutes if you don't have the anti-venom. It was like a ticking bomb.

Then the venom of the King Cobra; its bite delivers a tremendous amount of paralysis-inducing neurotoxins. The snake’s venom is so strong and so voluminous that it can kill an elephant in just a few hours. Death also results in at least 50 to 60 percent of untreated human cases.

Oxyuranus microlepidotus, also called, appropriately, the fierce snake; Xaviera remembers encountering this deadly snake. She witnessed it during one of the expeditions and one of the researchers got bitten. The venom consists of taipoxin, a complex mix of neurotoxins, procoagulants, and myotoxins that paralyze muscles, inhibit breathing, cause hemorraging in blood vessels and tissues, and damage muscles. The researcher didn't survive; a single drop of venom from the reptile can supposedly kill 100 men.

It left many experts dumbfounded, but Xaviera learned to respect that snake.

'Respect what can kill you.' That's what her father used to tell her when she was little.

'Never underestimate the size of some creatures.' he also would say.

Sitting down at the table, injecting the hallow arrows with the specific venoms, her mind drifted to the memories of when her father would take her to his travels, teaching her all the basic surviving tactics, how to approach certain animals.

'You can look, but you can't touch.' he would instruct her, especially when they encountered very majestic animals, like the banded krait. It was a beautiful snake, it's scaling in obsidian black and strong yellow, but when her father told her that the neurotoxin it sported can induce paralysis, she quickly nodded.

Xaviera missed him so much, and her mother too. She would always patch  Xaviera up when she got hurt, also teaching her medical tactics, how to stop hemorrhage, how to properly disinfect a wound and stitch it up.

The white-haired woman closed her eyes; she was getting emotional and that was a dangerous thing to do, considering the predicament she was into. She needed to remember that there was also a predator with her in the cottage.

For now, he seemed unharmful. If he so badly had wanted, he could have killed her by now.

'Never let your guard down when you are surrounded by wild creatures.' her father's words echoed in her head.

She swallowed hard, remembering one time when she was careless, her young age and immaturity showed back then.

She went with her father on a small trip close to their homes in North America, in dense forests to observe the wilderness, only for this expedition to almost take Xaviera's life. They encountered three small bear cubs.

That meant only one thing; there was also a mother bear near and she was furious. Xaviera couldn't blame the adult bear. She was protecting her cubs and if it wasn't for her father that tranquilized the feral, giant of an animal, Xaviera wouldn't have been here now.

Although, the Grizzly Bear gave the white-haired woman a souvenir to remember her by. She remembers how the bear charged towards her, flashing jaws that could probably crush her skull and claws that were five-inch long.

It left five long deep enough scratch marks from her hip down her outer thigh, almost to her knee. Her father saved her; always carrying a tranquilizer-gun in case they encounter wild and untamed beasts.

Xaviera sighed, finished with the venomous arrows, putting them in a special bag, made of thick leather. Carrying around weapons like this was deadly. You never know if you accidentally pierce yourself with one.

Her light blue eyes moved to the window, seeing it was already morning, lightly snowing. Maybe tomorrow she will go out if the weather calmed down, itching to finish the leeches that she knew very well had captured a snow leopard.

'The fucking parasites.' she thought, her brows pulled into a frown.

Her gruesome fantasy disappeared when the need for food made itself known, stomach signaling her that. She moved towards the kitchen, starting to make some soup, cutting the vegetables, calculating the number of ingredients she needed for two people.

She groaned; why did she care for that man's well being? He was obscene, cocky, and infuriating. Still, the way he shushed and cooed her after her nightmare made something in her chest light up, like a small fire that started to heat up her insides.

She huffed in annoyance at this. He was infuriating. Period.....and he made her want to castrate him.

But none deserves to die by starvation, so pushing the strong emotions aside she continues to prepare the dish, putting all the ingredients cauldron and letting it boil, waiting next to it, absorbing in the warmness it provided and the delicious aromas, while she was reading one of her zoology books, enjoying the silence, while it lasts because she knows once the soup is done she will have to go back upstairs with that infuriating specimen of a male.

Xaviera was so into reading, stopping at a paragraph about ranks in the packs of animals when the soup started to boil. She set the book down on the table, then filled two bowls with the hot food, letting it cool down a little, preparing herself to go upstairs and hope she won't be forced to scratch his face off.

Taking the bowls and setting them on a tray, she slowly marched upstairs, feeling her heartbeat pick up a little.

Headstrong man plays with her head.

She pushed the door open with her foot, seeing Andrei gaze out the window, his knives next to him on the bed. She walked towards the nightstand to set the tray down, the small clang of it pulling the man from his thoughts.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and confused face, still suspicious probably for why she was still taking care of him. To be honest, Xaviera didn't know the answer either. Curse him for being more animal than human.

"Thank you, myshka." he spoke, taking the bowl of soup and sitting it on his lap.

She nodded his way, taking her own bowl of soup and sitting in the armchair like she did yesterday. It felt like such a deja vu.

"None deserves to die by starvation." she simply told him, starting to eat in silence, savoring the first spoons of the warm dish.

"So...Are you going to tell me what you are doing here in Himalaya?" she asked, looking at him with curious blue eyes.

He looked at her for a few seconds, like he was debating if he should answer.

"My job...it's um, well I'm a...I kill people for money." he answered, then continued.

"The poachers are from Ukraine, and the job took me here." he finished, watching her carefully as he took a sip off the spoon.

Normal people would probably be frightened by such a statement, but Xaviera was no normal woman. She killed humans herself and she lost count of how many died; sometimes by having their heads shot or a deadly venomous arrow piercing them, but that's the easy case.

Most of the time she just started the kill, then watched as the animals killed the poachers. Being ripped to shreds by a lion wasn't an easy dead.

Xaviera tilted her head to the side curiously like a cat.

"I see. Well, they are dead so I am more than content with that, although there are more leeches that need to be crushed." she replied, almost finished with her soup.

"Once the snowing stops I am out to balance the ecosystem." she told him, the corners of her lips twitching up in a faint dark smile.

His gaze was directly on her.

"So much fight, so much promise within you, little mouse..." he spoke, taking another spoonful of soup.

"The fire you have is strong...don't ever let anyone take that from you." he finished, getting up, making Xaviera tense a little.

He looked like he would stroke her cheek or share an intimate moment, which made Xaviera nervous, only for the Russian to hand her the half-empty bowl of soup and ruffling her white hair, giving her a smirk, then disappearing downstairs.

She was surprised he healed so fast; probably was used to it, but that's not what clouded the woman's mind. His words, much like the Grizzly scars that she was sporting and hiding, were now printed deep in her mind, giving her a feeling of pride, feeling like her ears were on fire, probably from blushing.

It was so long since someone told her such words, the last time someone praised her in such a deep way was her father. She shook her head, clearing her mist-filled mind, taking the tray with the two almost empty bowls, and walking downstairs.

The first thing she saw Andrei look through his weapons; she was tense at first, probably waiting for him to use them on her, but after she realized he was only checking them, she walked towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

"Y'know the kife, this one here, it is my favorite weapon...." he begins to speak, but she didn't look his way, but she did listen to his words.

"Only certain soldiers are skilled with these...." he continues and Xaviera hears his footsteps.

"It is very intimate game of life, death and the blade in hand...almost like a dance." his voice sounds very close and she knows that he is behind her, making her stop, her hands holding the bowl while she tries not to let him get to her; she needs to control her emotions.

She felt like ice was dripping down her back when one of Andrei's hands wee gently placed on her hip, where her scars started down, but luckily the clothes were hiding them.

He moved his other hand that held the knife in front of her, her jaw tense, prepared in case he decided to do something and test his theory that followed.

"This knife has saved me more than hundred times." she could feel his hot breath down the nape of her neck; cursing herself for pulling her hair into a messy bun, but the long white locks always got in the way when she washed the dishes.

His lips grazed her soft skin, making her eyes widen.

"And my favorite part...seeing the knife slip quietly between the bones, slicing skin like butter, dripping in hot blood as you pull it back...." then he kissed her neck, her shoulders so tense, like a feline ready to pounce.

"It's a beautiful sight." he finished, pulling the knife from her view.

She would have probably used her sarcasm on him, telling him how oh-so poetic he can be, but she couldn['t, because the Russian was in her personal space, way too close for her comfort and not in the usual 'I wanna choke you to death until your eyes are dull and lifeless'.

No. There was too much sexual ineduo dripping from his words and you could taste the atmosphere, which by seconds it turned electric.

Her breathing was the first giveaway of her feelings, a new form of vulnerability enveloping her.

She never had someone so intimately close to her, in such a way that made her feel like she was walking on thin ice.

"W-What are you doing?" she asked, cursing her voice for sounding so weak, so fragile.

Andrei just huffed in laughter, amused at her discomfort.

"Well, little mouse, we are probably going to be stuck here for a few days, and there is no TV or entertainment...." he replied, the hand that was holding the knife, grazed the outside of her thigh, moving upward, only to make her more anxious.

"I am not a big fan of reading, so I thought you could be my entertainment." he finished by kissing her neck, sensitive to his touch and making her breath hitch in her throat.

The sexual ineduo was too obvious now, the grip on the bowl so tight she almost broke it. Her eyes wide, not knowing how to react or what to do, never being in such a combusting situation.

"I-I...." she tried to form words, but it's like they were stuck in her throat, knees starting to shake.

She was a nervous mess.

"Cat got your tongue?" he sarcastically asked, playing with the hem of her shirt, while his other hand held her hip tight, making sure she was planted against him.

"Or should I say wolf?" he laughed, his canines grazing along her naked shoulder, nipping and kissing, all thanks to her over-sized shirt that slipped of her shoulder.

The white-haired woman felt her cheeks go on fire at the way his voice sounded and how he touched her.

What was she supposed to say? That she never indulged in the more carnal and primal activities? That she never was touched? That she was a virgin!?

She had a few boyfriends in college, but there was nothing more than kissing and a little bit of touching here and there; of course, nothing could compare to what the Russian in front of her was doing to her.

When his canines nipped more at her skin she dropped the bowl into the sink.

"N-No...It's just..." again she couldn't find it in her to properly speak.

In a flash, Andrei roughly whipped her around and hauled her on the counter with ease in a display of raw strength, making her squeak, his form settling himself between her legs, towering over her small form. His ice-blue eyes staring her down, his large and rough hands on her thigh, admiring the way she shook.

He was allowing her to speak, to continue her phrase.

Her eyes widened at the position they were in, too intimate, not to mention the way he looked at her, like a very dangerous animal ready to go in for the kill. She gulped down, trying to find her words.

"I-I....I've never..." she began, breaking eye contact with the intimidating Russian, hoping he will get the drift because it was so embarrassing to say the words herself.

Slowly, he pulled away, maintaining the predatory look, only to broke in a burst of full-on loud laughter, showing off his teeth and squinting his eyes, holding his chest and walking backward.

His laugh was deep and almost shook the cottage.

"Y-You....you what???...."

She felt her face heat up more at his reaction, laughing at her like she was a joke.

"S-Stop laughing..." she huffed, but he still didn't stop.

"I said, stop laughing, jackass!" she screamed, getting off the kitchen counter.

His laughing continued, watching her with amused eyes.

"Ba-Baby girl...oh my God." he was almost to the point of tears in his laughter and that's when Xaviera snapped.

Her icy blue eyes turning into a glare, feeling completely insulted at his laughter.

Before she knew what she was doing, her hands grasped his shirt and pushed him against the closest wall with all her strength she could muster, taking advantage of him being distracted.

"Stop laughing, asshole!" she snarled up at him; looking like a kitten that hissed at the big bad wolf.

The laughter instantly stopped, his smile dropping and turning into a snarl, his eyes darkening by her actions.

Swiftly, Andrei grabbed her throat and whipped her against the wall he was just against. She was ready to tell him to fuck off, but his large and muscular thigh was placed between her legs, right in the center, a mewl leaving her lips.

A new type of fire formed in the pit of her stomach, one that made her weak in the knees.

"W-What?" she choked out, her fingernails digging into the wrist of his hand that was wrapped around her neck, not tight enough to stop air to fill her lungs, but enough to assert his dominance over her.

Her wide eyes looked directly into his wolfish ones.

His breath hissed through gritted teeth like he was trying to control himself. He swallowed harshly, removing his hand from her neck, cupping her jaw, and stroking his thumb on her cheek.

The size difference between them was nerve breaking and she knew if he so saw fit he could rip her jaw off.

The dark scenario in her head vanished when he spoke.

"You're so beautiful, Xaviera." the first time he used her name and his words made her feel like she was made of jelly.

That glimpse of softness disappeared when the Russian grabbed her ass, making her wrap her legs around his waist, a growl leaving from deep within his chest when she accidentally grind on him a little.

She had no time to say anything because his lips crashed on hers.

Everything made her feel so dizzy and she knew if it weren't for his hands supporting her, she would have fallen down. The words he spoke echoed in her head, making her feel like her ribcage was gonna combust from how fast her heart was beating.

The adrenaline.

When she had grinded down on him, she felt something to say so....intimidating.....just like him.

"A-Andrei...." she squeaked against his mouth, her hands fisting into his shirt.

His mouth devoured hers and she found herself so weak by the many flavors he was sporting; the taste of tobacco, earl grey tea, and the faintness of the spicy soup.

He nipped at her bottom lip before he broke the kiss.

"I have you, little mouse." he whispered lowly, walking over to the couch, sitting himself down with her on his lap, his eyes trained on her like he was lost in his own mysterious mind.

Closing his eyes, he kissed her again, but this time it was much slower, but passionate, his finger laced into her soft, white hair. Her much smaller hands were gripping his shirt tight, afraid that if she let go she would fall from the rock and hit the bottom hard.

She tried to mimic the kiss, still wondering why she didn't push him away, smashing his balls and making him impotent for all his remaining life.

Maybe it was because she had never met a man like him, someone so dangerous and so at ease with his more primal instincts.

Again, he pulled away, his hand grasping her chin, resting his forehead on hers.

"But how myshka?....you're so beautiful." he asked.

How? Perhaps, she hadn't met someone that could match her, someone who wasn't afraid to indulge in the wilder side, someone who could actually keep up with her....Someone who can protect her.

She remembers in one expedition, there was a guy who tried to flirt with her, only to scream and run when one Boa fell down from a tree in front of her, and before that he was acting like he was all man and that masculinity.

"I-I've never found someone....Well...Compatible to say so...." she answered his question, looking up at him innocently from under her eyelashes.

Something sparked in his eyes, something she couldn't place her finger on.

"I will take care of you....ssh." he murmured, running his thumb along her soft lips.

Her mouth opened instinctually, his thumb moving gently inside her mouth, her tongue running over his digit and lips wrapped around it. His pupils dilatated at her innocent gesture, lips pulled into a small snarl. He was trying to control himself.

He pulled his hand away, only for his mouth to start leaving opened mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder, his big hands running under her shirt. Everywhere he touched her, he left a hot trail of fire, making her slowly moan, still shy about everything.

Xaviera tilted her head in the opposite direction, allowing him more access, just like a female animal does for the strongest male; a sign of submission. Her hands moved from his shirt to run her fingers through his hair; so soft, so fluffy, reminding her of the fur coat of a wolf.

She never felt like this before, the intensity of all her nerve-endings was stretching, absorbing every touch he gave her. She was so caught up in this newfound pleasure, just mewling in appreciation of all the attention he was basking her in, that th sound of material being ripped pulled her from the induced hormonal state.

Ice blue eyes opening to see he had ripped her shirt like it was made of paper, exposing her upper body, chest covered by a simple white bra, nothing fancy. When you were always on the run like a wild free-spirited animal just like her, you didn't have time to worry about expensive lingerie with all kinds of designs.

His hands quickly moved behind her to undo her bra, breaking the hook in the process, but that was her last of her worry because when the white material was tossed behind him, she wanted to cover herself, but he was much quicker than her, grasping her wrists from doing so. Not enough to break, but enough to tell her not to cover.

The way he was looking at her made her nervous; were they too small, not his desired shape? His tongue peeked out from his mouth, running along one of his canines.

A loud gasp tore from her throat when his mouth laced to one of her nipples, sucking and biting on it greedily. The other breast wasn't ignored, his calloused hand grabbing the globe of flesh, his fingers twisting the nipple.

Her hands tugged on his light brown faux hawk, her head tossed back, and looking at the ceiling. She never knew that such actions could make her feel like this; it made her feel weak, but in such a delicious way, wetness forming between her legs, giving her an uncomfortable feeling.

Trying to adjust herself, she ground on him, feeling the bulge in his cargo pants, only for a primal growl to erupt from Andrei, biting her nipple rather roughly, making her scream, whimpering as he started to lap at the rosy red bud.

It was such a weird mix of pain and pleasure.

His mouth, moved up along her chest, continuing to nip and bite, leaving trails of hickeys in his path; just like a wolf marking his territory. Blue and purples adored her pale skin in intricate patterns.

"Myshka." he growled against her neck, canines grazing her pulse, making the white-haired woman whimper; not in fear, but in sinful submission, something she never thought she would do.

Before she knew it, he moved off the couch with his hands supporting her body again, hands groping her small tight ass as he marched upstairs, her arms wrapped around his neck.

The door to the bedroom was kicked open rather roughly and surprisingly, her form gently laid on the bed and he pulled her lips into a sloppy kiss, showing how eager he was to devour her, to make her feel things she never even had in her life.

He loved to bite, that's for sure, Xaviera noticed that and his sharp canines only made him more of a beast than a man, but God if it didn't send her into a turned-on mess. She could feel how soaked she was and she knew he would be all smug about it.

His lips moved to her ear, licking it, then nipping on the cartilage. Xaviera squeaked, her hands running up and down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

"Sensitive there, baby girl?" he whispered in her ear, blowing hot air, stealing more lewd noises from the woman underneath him.

She was ready to throw him some colorful words, but that thought flew off the window when he sucked harshly on her earlobe, his hands, tugging her pants down in such an uncivil way, leaving her with only a pair of white cotton panties.

His eyes drifted to something that caught his interest; her Grizzly scars. She was afraid he might be pulled off by them, but she was surprised to feel him gently trace the marks, silently telling her it was alright, nothing to be ashamed of.

His eyes then moved to her panties.

Andrei smirked at the choice of her colors, so simple yet so innocent, running two thick fingers up and down her covered pussy, making her legs twitch.

"So cute, little mouse." he commented, making her face heat up.

He always managed to turn her into a flustering mess. She looked at him with confusion when he crawled off her, only for her legs to be thrown on his broad shoulders, his fingers pulling her panties aside, taking a glimpse at her most private parts, so untouched. His big thumb caressed her folds, spreading her wetness more.

"You're so wet for me, baby girl....I wanna have a taste of this juicy pussy of yours." he whispered, voice rough and growling at the end.

Her eyes widened when he felt his mouth on her, tongue lapping at what her heat had to offer him, his canines grazing her outer labia. Her hands fisted the bedsheets, as a series of lustful moans and mewls escaped her mouth; the way he was working her, switching from suckling to biting, the heels of her feet digging into his broad back, instinctually her legs closed around his head, pulling him in closer.

"A-Andrei!" she squeaked his name as his sharp teeth nibbled on her clit, making tears form at the corner of her eyes from how the pleasure was hitting her like a dagger.

It didn't help the growls that left his mouth, sending vibrations straight up her core and a weird feeling was forming into the pit of her stomach; she knew what was gonna happen.

"W-Wait....S-Stop....O-Or I am gonna-" she warned him, but he was just his stubborn self, not stopping his assault on her pussy, pushing one thick finger inside her and she was done, a long and loud whine.

She breathed heavily as he lapped up her juices, slowly raising up and looking at her with wide eyes, that feral look in them making her tremble.

"S-Sorry...." she apologized, seeing his mouth, jaw, and chin covered in wetness.

His wet lips pulled into his trademark wolfish grin, canines on full display, delighted by what she just did. He moved back over her, smashing his lips eagerly on hers, making Xaviera taste herself.

"See how good you taste, pussycat?" he asked against her lips, her eyes half-lidded as he looked into his own.

Her hands tugged on his shirt, a small whine leaving her, wanting to feel his skin. Getting up, he tugged his black shirt off, strong muscles on display, skin that was covered in scars, especially a big one down his chest, her eyes following the movements of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his cargo pants.

He kicked his combat boots off, then teasingly slipped the last piece of clothing off, along with his boxers. Innocent blue eyes widened as his length was freed, slapping against his abdomen. Her mouth hung open; he was big, everything about him was big, and screamed pure raw strength. Precum oozed from the rosy type, two obvious veins along the girthy length.

When her eyes looked up at his face, she could tell he was mighty proud of what he was packing; masculine pride.

"Close your mouth, myshka before I put something to occupy it." his obscene words made her quickly close it, hearing him chuckle at her flustered face.

The Russian moved back over her, his big hands pinning her tiny ones next to each side of her head as he gazed down directly into her glassy ones.

She gasped as he felt his length rub between her legs, the material of her panties adding to the friction.

"Feel what you're doing to me, darling? This is all your work." he growled, an inch away from her lips, her panties thoughtfully soaked.

In one swift move, one hand left her wrist to rip her panties off, coming back to grip her wrist back.

That was it, no more barries, nothing else between them, his cock rubbing directly on her soft skin, wet and eager for him to take it.

"P-Please..." she whispered, her legs opening more for him.

"W-What was that, myshka? You have to be more precise." he teased, making her whine.

She couldn't believe he was going to make her beg; he had managed to do something no man has ever done.

"P-Please...I-I need it." she choked out when his mouth laced on the skin behind her ear.

"What's that you want? My big cock, baby girl? That's what you want so badly?" he snarled into her ear, his canines running up and down the length of her neck and she threw her head back, the full length of her neck now on display, exactly like a female in heat that needs to be mounted by the most powerful male; the most intimate act of submission.

"Yes, please! Now, hurry up!" she screamed, exasperated with this anticipation.

That seemed to be the call because the follow action made her choke on her own breath, legs wrapping around his waist and her fingernails digging into his back, her mouth in an 'o' shape as she gazed with deer-like eyes into his feral ones, trying probably not to fuck her brains out since it's her first time.

She felt so full like she was going to be ripped in half, tears running down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

One of his hands cupped her cheek, whipping her tears away.

"Shhh...Breath, myshka....Breath. I'm here." he cooed, letting her adjust and she was very grateful for that.

No way was he average. Fuck no.

She tried to control her body, her breathing, relaxing her tense muscles as much as she could and she gave him a slight nod, motioning for him to move a little, which he did, very slowly, but by the way, his jaw was so tense, muscles bulging under scarred skin, she knew it was hard to control himself.

First, just some experimental thrusts, adjusting to his size, closing her eyes, the foreign feeling of pain fading away little by little which each push and pull until there was only pleasure, her moans signaling him that he could move harder, which he happily did, but he still held back.

"Fuck....You're so tight." he growled in her neck, slipping in and out of her cunt.

Xaviera couldn't form words and she let the primal sounds speak. The slow, languid pace quickly turned into fast and experimental thrusts, their skin slapping together whenever Andrei hilted inside her.

"So dripping for me." he breathed, his hands moving to grasp her ass.

"Yesssss." the white-haired woman mewled, her hands running through his hair.

He used his grip on her behind to move her body up and down his length, her body so light and easy to manhandle.

Now she knew why the animals were so feral in mating; how could you not be when all this pleasure is exploding through your veins. She knew it wasn't going to take her long to cum again, not by how he was starting to pound her cunt.

"Are you close, little mouse?" he asked her, one of her hands fisting his hair.

"I can feel you squeezing around me so eagerly." he sounded so primal; like a true apex predator wanting to conquer his mate.

"Mhmm..." she answered, the delicious knot ready to snap.

"Who do you belong to?" he growled, canines dangerously close to her neck artery.

"W-What?" she asked in a breathless moan.

She guessed that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because he gave her such a harsh thrust that made her toes curl.

"I asked.....Who do you belong to?" his voice had a growling tint, clearly losing his patience.

All her ration vanished then.

"Y-You.....I'm yours. I'm all yours." Xaviera whined when he slipped his cock almost all the way out, only for the tip to rest inside her.

He was going to kill her like this.

He kept her like this, only to took her by surprise when he pushed all the way in, a series of quick and deep thrusts followed, the tip of his length hitting that sweet spot inside her over and over, and she came heavily, her fingernails so deep in his back, running down, leaving a trail of hot red marks.

His cock twitched inside her and she felt warmness in the pit of her belly, making her feel like she was flying on a cloud, but she also had the feeling that she was really fucking a wolf, by the sound that left Andrei's mouth. His lips pulled into a snarl, deadly k9's glinting and the most erotic growl she ever heard meet her ears.

They both tried to catch their breaths, a smirk tugging at the Russian's lips as he looked down at her face; rosy red cheeks, eyes showing deep satisfaction and her lips swollen from the kissing.

"Speechless, koshechka?" (koshechka=pussycat)

Xaviera just gulped down, nodding her head and making him chuckle at her adorable expression, his hand coming to her head, running his thick fingers through her long soft winter locks, his mouth moving to her head as he whispered in Russian.

She didn't know what he said, but by the way, he spoke, it feels soothing, like he was singing her a lullaby.

She felt his thumb graze her pulse, one of her hands running up and down his chest gently, especially over his big scar.

It was like the fire died down and the only thing that was left was a sense of tranquility, a smile tugging at Xaviera's lips.

"Moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars." he whispered against her neck, kissing one of the bigger bitemarks he left on her. (moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars= my beautiful snow leopard)

She sighed contently, enjoying this rare moment, her hand playing with his fluffy hair as he littered her neck in all the attention.

Neither of them were sleepy and probably their minds were clouded with tons of questions and wonders.

[fuckyeahscienceparty]

Ok so what if there was a really bad thunderstorm and and Engie and Medic made a pillow fort together and drank hot coco and did the cute forehead kissies and and one of them are really scared of thunderstorm and they they hug and kiss and stuff y'know.... 🥺👉👈

i hope.. this is not too ooc. not like some of my others haven't been but i couldn't resist getting super soft with this one.

thank you for such a cute prompt!! it was a joy to write 💕

-

Danke Schoen

It wasn't every day that a storm this bad came rolling into the dessert. Or really a storm period, especially with lightning and thunder and everything.

Needless to say, a certain BLU member with goggles and a case of astrophobia was not pleased.

-

"Looks like the rain still isn't letting up, huh?" Medic hummed as he gently took one of the cups of hot chocolate he'd made and handed Engie the other.

"Uh. Uhuh. Yup. Sure isn't," He stumbled out, taking the cup that he'd been offered. Medic said nothing but frowned slightly as he put the pot he used in the sink and filled it with water so he could wash it, taking a sip of his drink.

It'd been uncharacteristically wet in Tuefort that week. Battle had to be cancelled until the storm was over for risk of flooding and the two of them had been using the opportunity to do weapons upgrades in Engie's workshop, Engie himself having practically lived there ever since the rain started up.

Which in and of itself wasn't necessarily odd. They were all cooped up inside anyways, there really wasn't a reason for him to leave other than to get food, take a shower, and sleep and even then, he did have a pull out couch in the corner of the workshop he tended to pass out on if he was too tired to make the trek to his room.

But now that Medic was actually seeing him 'out and about', he'd noticed something a little... odd.

He'd been acting unusually restive- ever since they left the workshop, really. It wasn't like Engie wasn't one to fidget (Medic would honestly be more concerned if he WASN'T chewing on something or bouncing his leg constantly) but he seemed more. Apprehensive about it, this time.

"Herr Engineer, are you alright?" Medic asked after the pot had been washed, taking his cup back into his hands as he turned to face him.

"Couldn't be better."

"Oh don't pull that bullshit on me Dell, I can tell your upset."

"I'n not upset-"

It was then a rather large crash of thunder could be heard throughout the base, Engie flinching and nearly dropping his cup, spilling hot chocolate all over his hand and the counter.

"Christ, are you alright??" Medic asked, hurriedly turning the sink back on and directing Engie's hand under the cold, running water before going to get paper towels.

"F-fine, I'm fine," He insisted, though the frazzled look on his face and quiver in his voice said otherwise.

As he began cleaning up the spill, something in Medic's brain finally clicked as he looked to his boyfriend with a concerned look on his face.

"Dell, are you... afraid of thunderstorms?"

Engie opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it again and anxiously looking away from him, the only sounds in the kitchen being the steady trickle of water from the sink and the heavy pattering of rain against the roof.

"Why didn't you tell me? It's not in your file," Medic asked softly.

"Because it's stupid."

"It's not stupid-"

"Ludwig, I am a middle aged man who builds machines that shoot people to death for a living and I've been afraid of sounds coming from the sky since I was 6. It's a little stupid."

"Ok, say being afraid of seemingly inane things is stupid. It's not, but that's not the point right now. Why are you afraid of thunder and not something like, say, gunshots?"

"It's not just... loud noises. I know what guns sound like. Intimately. I can tell if something sounds like a gun, or a bomb, or a rocket because I hear those every day."

"Then what is it?"

"It's. It's just an irrational fear I was never able to shake. It's whatever."

"I mean I'm not doubting you on the irrational fear part but it's clearly not 'whatever', you're not even looking at me right now."

Engie wanted to retaliate but was interrupted by another strike of thunder, letting out a soft whimper instead.

It was then that he started shaking. Not very much, just slightly. He wasn't even really sure he was doing it but Medic rushed to throw the chocolate soaked paper towels into the trash before closing the tap, carefully drying his hand for him with the kitchen towel.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have prodded you," Medic said carefully as he pressed a kiss against his forehead, Engie squeezing his eyes shut as he did.

"Can we please go back to the workshop? All the soundproof padding I put in there makes it. Easier for me," He mumbled out.

Ah. So that's why he hadn't left.

"Of course we can, my love. Though... can we make one detour on the way there?" Medic asked, giving him that side smile he always did when he had some sort of idea in that wonderful, haywire brain of his.

"Where?"

"You'll see. Do you mind carrying the cups for me? I'm going to need both hands to carry stuff," Medic asked, holding both cups of hot chocolate out to him.

Engie raised an eyebrow but did as requested, following after him while silently begging himself to stop trembling.

When they arrived at Engie's bedroom he was a little confused, staring at Medic as he started folding up the blankets and stacking up their pillows.

"Honey, what on Earth are you doing?"

"We're making a pillow fort."

"What are we, 12?"

"No, but who says you're too old to have fun every once in a while?" Medic grinned at him, putting all their fort making supplies in a blanket bundle for easy carrying.

Engie shook his head at him but smiled regardless, shifting one of the cups so he was holding both in one hand and could hold the door open with the other.

When they'd arrived to the workshop (which Medic noted DID actually muffle the sound of the storm by quite a lot), Engie'd made quick work of moving things out of the way and pulling out the bed, Medic plopping down his blanket bundle before poking around Engie's workbench for his chair, some duct tape, and various clamps.

"You're really insistent on this, huh sugar?"

"Hey now, pillow forts are pretty great. And building will get you to relax a little. Works for me," Medic shrugged, tossing the roll of duct tape to him before dragging the chair over.

"Erectin' a pillow fort then," Engie snorted, unraveling part of the roll and beginning to plan out how all this was going to work out in his head.

After around 40 minutes or so of rearranging pillows and then rearranging them again, sipping hot chocolate, and playfully arguing about where all the clamps and tape should go, the two of them finally climbed into their newly built fort, Medic half sitting in Engie's lap as he fiddled with the little radio they'd put on for background noise when they'd first started.

Engie looked at him lovingly, gently tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Yes?" Medic asked when he looked up, letting out a delighted chuckle as Engie leaned up to give him a kiss on the forehead.

"What was that for?"

"Thought I'd return the favor."

"It was a favor, silly. You didn't need to return it, that's the point of a favor."

"Yeah but I wanted to."

Medic rolled his eyes but proceeded to fight back with another kiss, feeling particularly happy when he felt Engie's lips smile against his and putting the radio down when he'd finally found a station he was happy with.

"I love you, you know that?" He asked softly, Engie nuzzling his head into the crook of Medic's neck.

"Sure do. You make it wonderfully clear," He sighed softly, reaching for Medic's free hand so that he could hold it.

Medic smiled softly before kissing the top of his head, readily letting Engie's fingers intertwine with his as he hummed along to the sound of Wayne Newton crackling over the radio.

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for seeing me again

Though we go on our separate ways

Still the memory stays, for always

My heart says, "danke schoen."

[nicostolemybones]

Good day

Happy Birthday! (Nico Birthday Week)

Trans Nico fic

Tw: pain, dysphoria, period mention, unsafe binding

-

Nico inevitably woke up in pain, although he figured he could bare it today. He'd been told pretty adamantly not to train today, but he didn't want to sit around and do nothing, so once he was awake and ready, he walked slowly to the infirmary. His joints ached badly, but he wouldn't be walking around too much anyway, so it was nothing he couldn't handle for today. He'd decided to spend the day helping Will out- of course, Will would probably refuse if Nico asked, so he was just going to turn up and start helping with the stock rooms- he could sit on the shelves to sort through the boxes and count everything and take note of what they were running low on. 

Of course, when Will found him sitting on the shelves counting out bottles of testosterone, he was less than pleased. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Helping," Nico replied, "you're running low on ace bandages and nectar but there's enough ambrosia to last a few months at least. I'm counting out the testiclerone." Will's wheezing laugh alerted Nico that not only had he mispronounced testosterone, but he'd said the word testicle and both boys were too immature to not overreact. Nico facepalmed. "Oh balls," he sighed, then realised he'd basically made the same mistake twice, laughing at himself quietly. 

"If you're not going to be mature," Will chastised, but he was definitely being more immature than Nico was with his bright glow from the laughter, "then get out of my stock cupboard."

"Never I've established a nest," Nico protested.

"I ordered you to rest."

"I am resting," Nico argued, "I don't wanna just sit in my cabin when I could be helpful."

"But it's your birthday," Will whined, "you shouldn't be counting out medicines you should be out having fun!"

"It's not my birthday," Nico said slowly, and Will raised his eyebrows.

"Nico, it's the 28th. It's your birthday today."

"...oh," Nico whispered, after a while.

"Did you… dude, did you forget your own birthday?"

"It… it's not important," Nico sighed with a huff, turning his attention back to counting, "it's just a day."

"Is there a reason you don't wanna celebrate?"

"No," Nico shrugged, "not particularly…"

"Then let's go!" Will had grabbed Nico's hand before he could process what was happening, and his best friend was dragging him away.

Will brought him ice cream, which Nico appreciated- he had chocolate, whilst Will had strawberry. Nico was having fun at first, but he started to feel out of place as they shopped for clothes. All the men were so tall, and Nico was terrified to talk should his voice give him away. It had been easy to pass his higher register off as puberty not starting yet, but Will was fifteen too, and his voice had already started breaking. He always had a very clumsy shaving rash, and acne certainly wasn't his best friend, and he was tall. Nico on the other hand was currently battling a heavy period making him feel like he was gonna vomit and the growth of two lumps on his chest he was binding tightly in the hope they wouldn't grow anymore or be noticeable.

Even most of the extra small clothes would be too big for him. Nothing in the adult men's department was going to fit him. He felt like everyone around him knew, like everybody was looking at him wondering what some little girl was doing there. "Will," he said quietly, dysphoria and anxiety spiking through the roof, "I need to get out of here…"

"Ah, shit, sure," Will said, hurrying Nico out of the store. He took him to a small café, ordering himself a milkshake. Nico opted for tea to calm his nerves. His dysphoria was bad, and he knew he'd need the bathroom soon to change pads, and he wasn't binding safely. Will didn't know yet, and Nico really wanted to confide in him. He'd been thinking about coming out to Will for a while now, and it clear Will was concerned about him. Nico felt comfortable around Will. He'd never come out to anyone at camp- Bianca had known, and his dad had figured it out. Of course, Nico was terrified to come out, but he knew Will would accept him. 

"Hey, Will?" He began quietly, and the nerves washed over him in overwhelming waves. He almost backed out, but he reminded himself that things would be okay. "I have something I want to tell you."

"Is it that you stole my last cookie? Because you totally stole my last cookie." 

"That was Kayla," Nico corrected quickly, and Will was probably about to shout out loud, but Nico quickly hurried out a small "it's serious."

Will instantly leaned forwards, giving a reassuring but concerned smile. He was glowing softly, comfortingly. "I'm here," he said softly, and Nico took a deep shaky breath.

"It's uh… something about me," he said, "something personal."

"It's okay," Will reassured softly, "I'm listening."

Nico didn't really know how to say it. He'd always imagined it would be such a long and personal conversation, but as soon as he mustered up the courage, it was only two words. "I'm trans…"

Will was silent for a while, and Nico began to panic, but Will wouldn't reject him, he highly doubted it. He knew Will was just trying to figure out how to respond out of respect and care. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to trust me with that," he said eventually, "is there anything in particular that I do that makes you feel uncomfortable that you need me to stop doing, or- or anything in general to avoid?"

"You haven't made me uncomfortable," Nico said, feeling more able to force the words out, "just uh… no feminine language, and don't draw attention to any feminine things unless it's y'know… period leakage or medical related. And uh… I don't want you to tell anyone at camp, I'm not ready and I don't feel safe enough."

"Of course, dude," Will reassured, "may I ask you something personal?"

"I trust you," Nico replied, and Will smiled softly, a dark amber hue seeping into his glow.

"I noticed we're always running low on ace bandages. Is that…. what you're using to um-"

"Bind," Nico filled in, before nodding. 

"Would it be okay if I go buy you a sports bra so you don't have to and you go into the bathroom and put it on and take the bandages off? I know which boy's bathrooms have clean stalls and I'll come with you so you feel less scared. And uh- I know it won't squash you as much as you want, but I'll give you my jacket. Would that help? And when we get back to camp you can borrow my laptop in the infirmary and order a proper binder and measure yourself up properly."

"I'd really appreciate that, like… a lot… just don't get too flustered seeing lots of knickers and please don't get distracted trying bras on over your head. And uh… I don't feel comfortable in public bathrooms anyway, but I can't go into the men's room today, I uh… have bleeding."

"I would not!" Will protested, but his face said otherwise. "Anything I can do to help the dysphoria or hormones?"

"Just continue treating me like any other guy?"

"Of course," Will said softly.

"I don't think I can walk around for very long," Nico added after a comfortable silence, "my pain's getting to me."

"Wanna have a movie marathon in your cabin when we get back? I uh… I also kinda got you a birthday present I've been waiting to give you."

"Yeah," Nico blushed, "sounds great. So uh… you got me a gift?"

"Happy Birthday," Will said softly, handing over a small box. Nico opened it and almost bounced out of his seat- it was the latest mythomagic expansion pack he'd been saving up for. 

"Are you serious," Nico grinned, "you got me mythomagic? Will!"

"I thought you might like them," Will said, "I was uh… kinda gonna take you on a date today but I chickened out on asking you properly."

"You wanted to go on a date? With- with me? But- I thought you liked Lou-Ellen?"

"Well yeah, but that was like- a year ago. And I'm not straight, I'm bi. As in girls and guys. Well- not just girls and guys but you get my point. And you're a guy who's um. Who's pretty handsome. So uh. Um. It's… it's totally cool if-"

"Dork," Nico interrupted with a smirk, "took you long enough to ask me."

"So uh- is that a yes?" Nico almost whacked him with a pillow, except he didn't have one. He felt confident and happy for once. It had been a good birthday. 

@solangeloweek

[penninstitute]

CASE #0070824-A

Statement of Lance Richards regarding a road-trip from Chicago to Austin, Texas. Original statement given August 24th, 2007.

Every summer, since I turned 18, I've been visiting my uncle down in Texas. I drive down from wherever I might be staying--it used to be from my parents' house in Salt Lake, but ever since I came out and they kicked me out, it's… not very consistent. There was a seven month period where I was living out of my car and doing odd jobs, it was rough. But I always made a point to visit my uncle Evan and his partner Tova. The two of them could barely make enough to support themselves, let alone me, but I was always welcome for at least a few days at a time.

Eventually I began making enough to support myself and my own place, and I didn't need to go stay with them, but the rest of our shitty family never made a point to visit, and I figured I'd turn it into a tradition.

Road trips are pretty fun. Driving is relaxing, and I mean, other than gas money and hotels and, y'know, food, the trip doesn't really cost too much in the grand scheme of things, even though it's a few days' worth of driving. This country is so big, and the fact that I've barely seen any of it is really weird to me. I'll take any chance I can get to grow more familiar with different states. But this road trip has been consistent for the better part of four years.

I've been making this drive for years. It's not anything new, and I'm familiar with it. I know when it's normal, and I know when it's not.

I mean, this drive wasn't normal, for obvious reasons. I'd been driving on the I-35 South for about three hours when I finally noticed just how empty it was. I mean, there were barely any cars near me at all, only two others travelling in the same direction. I only saw two cars go by in the other direction over the next fifteen minutes. It was weird enough already.

It definitely threw me off a bit. I mean, it was a June afternoon, school had let out for most places a week or two before--wouldn't people be out and about? With all this free time, at least some teenagers should be running around, families should be going on trips, right?

There wasn't anybody, save for me and the two other cars nearby. It was weird. That's definitely weird.

I just kept driving. It wasn't like it was an impossible scenario, I'd driven on empty stretches of highway before, but this one just felt strange. About thirty minutes later, it felt like I was driving past the same trees over and over and over again. I'm not sure if that was true. I think I saw the same exit sign a few times, actually, thinking back on it. I can't really be sure, considering what happened next.

One moment, I was driving on an empty highway, the other two cars long since gone, desert flying past in a blur, and then I blinked.

Everything was gone.

The car was still there. The road was still there. Everything else had just vanished. In place of the sprawling desert around me was nothing but black, and after a moment I think I began to see things moving in the darkness. It was terrifying, seeing nothing but darkness, and something darker than darkness within it. The other side of the highway had vanished as well, it was like I was driving on a one-way highway. 

I just… kept driving. What else was I going to do, get out of the car? That would've been fucking stupid. It wasn't like the road had vanished, anyways, so I figured I'd just… keep going.

There were still signs. The speed limit sign that came up didn't have any discernible numbers on it, just a jumbled mass of lines that looked like they should have been symbols of some kind, but the harder I tried to decipher them, the harder it became to read them.

The other signs indicating exits and the like were the same. They had things that looked more like words on them, but not in any language I would've recognized. The alphabet was similar to the English one, but it was just… strange. Something that looked like an a would look more like a w after a few seconds of squinting at it. It wouldn't change at all, it was just… something about the letters made them difficult.

A few exits went by before I even considered getting off of this strange cosmic horror highway. The roads stretched out until I couldn't see where they went anymore, so the exits didn't just… drop off. I spent another few minutes debating with myself, but couldn't decide. I just kept driving straight for a while, trying to figure out what to do. Stopping the car felt like a bad idea, like if I did, the road would fall away underneath me, and I'd fall into that awful blackness.

The thought was dizzying. It made my stomach twist in a way that properly hurt, and I had to keep my eyes locked on the road right in front of me, because looking into the writhing darkness made me feel sick if I did it for too long.

I don't know how long I spent driving on that main highway. Every time I glanced at the clock, the time changed to something entirely different from before. Sometimes it wasn't even numbers. I hadn't dared to touch the radio, since I could only imagine what sort of awful sounds I might hear if I turned it on. It just seemed like a poor decision to make.

I did get off of the highway, in the end. I mean, what else was I supposed to do, really. I decided to take the exit labelled "2?3N", and followed the ramp as it curved away from the main highway. I don't know how long that ramp went on for, but then it merged onto another highway. Once I was back on, I realized it was the same one from before.

Although… I don't know how I knew it was the same one. They were identical, but the exits were all identical as well, and none of the signs meant anything. I think I just… knew, somehow, that I had looped back to the same highway.

I finally tried turning on the radio, but all I got was static. High-pitched, headache-inducing static that roared in my ears and filled the car with that awful squeal. I turned it off as quickly as I could while not careening off the road. It was terrible. It physically hurt, listening to it.

I glanced up at my rearview mirror after a few seconds, and froze.

The highway was falling away behind me.

It started a few dozen meters back, but it began to catch up quickly. I couldn't see any exits coming up, and the road just kept… flaking apart behind me, scraps of asphalt being whisked away into that roiling, shifting darkness. I floored it. I just kept speeding up, practically flying down that awful fucking interdimensional hellscape of an interstate.

The edge of the road behind me kept getting closer until my wheels were on the verge of slipping off. By then, I'd pretty much accepted death, I think, and slammed on the brakes as hard as I possibly could.

I fell. I could feel the falling sensation, the car plummeting through darkness, nothingness in all directions, I couldn't even feel my seatbelt on me--I felt completely weightless, unburdened, my stomach doing backflips. I've never enjoyed the way your stomach drops when you ride rollercoasters, or… fall to your death in a spooky magical void.

I closed my eyes so I didn't have to see that darkness. Then there was light on my face, and I opened my eyes to see the highway again. The regular one. The normal I-35. I almost started crying right then and there, I'm not going to lie.

I found the nearest rest stop and sat down for a while, but eventually I just… kept going with the trip. I'd somehow skipped eight hours of driving, I was a little under an hour away from Oklahoma City.

The rest of the trip went fine. I didn't talk about it when I got there, I didn't know how to explain it. I get vertigo really easily, now, and I've found that I can just about always smell ozone wherever I go, but I don't know if that can be attributed to whatever this was. I have no idea how or why that happened, but maybe you can do something with it. Or not. I just needed to get this story out.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

- Mr. Richards could be reached, though he had no interest in a follow-up interview.

- All of the natural parts of the statement can be confirmed--obviously the I-35 exists, as do the cities, though there is no concrete evidence that this was not a hallucination.

- Mr. Richards’ medical history suggests he had no existing conditions that would have caused any hallucinations, however, so while the statement cannot be confirmed, it also cannot be discredited entirely, as something strange certainly happened here.

[cherubsoda]

Apple pie, peach, and shortcake for medic pwease @heartstringsymphonies

ugh same mind @heartstringsymphonies​ @space-sweetheart​thank you for enabling me, everything’s under the cut bc i really just went off

Apple pie: How does your f/o sleep? Do they snooze soundly next to you or do they toss and turn etc?

Medic's the type to, y'know, not sleep - at least not for very long periods of time. He'll often fall asleep at his desk in the medbay or even at the one in this bedroom (if he even wants to drag himself there). A lot of times, he needs to be dragged to bed.

Once he's asleep though, he's out like a light. He's not exactly a heavy sleeper but he's harder to wake up if he deems that day a Rest Day (aka Chef said so, xoxo). He snores but its not unbearable, but it gets worse based on the amount sleep he’s running on (lower the number, worse it gets u.u).

What if I pushed our minecraft beds together haha jk jk...unless 😳. The guy is so used to sleeping on his own, so having another Lump™ next to him he's just like What The Fuck. He's happy? we get to sleep next to each other, next step, yadda yadda but he can't fully relax. He tends to stay on 'his side' while i stay on mine, which is a mf lie bc I Gravitate Towards Warmth (as ive been told). So, I definitely intrude into his space and he’s like ?????????? a lil stiff, a lil pleased ab that.

Hes quick to adapt to sleeping together and actually enjoys the process of getting ready for bed together. Its something domestic and intimate - a nice way from him to wind down. When he slept alone, he would lie straight on his back but picture this Fathead flopping, face down on his bed and crashing like that: because that has definitely happened. He prefers sleeping face to face or head on the chest, fingers playing with their hair typa deal (brotha it goes either way mm hmm).

He doesn't move around too much, maybe switching positions a couple times, but he's typically p stagnant. BUT he stirs when I squirm around in his hold bc I Cannot Be Contained, which just wakes his ass up, he usually takes it like a champ and smothers his face in my hair until I stop JASJJSJ

Peach: Who’s the little spoon and who’s the big spoon?

Ma’am we all know he’s the big spoon 90% of the time but sometimes it’s nice to be held by your strong, mouse spouse 😔💕 Jetpacking is cute bc...I'd really get all up in that, my leg goes OVER his legs and my face gets BURIED in his neck. When he’s big spoon, he does that curling around action, not really the leggy thing but I am not immune to him half crushing me when he rolls over. 

Shortcake: What’s your f/o’s love language? (physical affection, giving gifts, etc):

Definitely Quality Time, second would be physical affection! He likes to keep busy so it's a bit hard to make him slow down to just take things in sometimes. But once he does, he can finally relax and its something he's thankful for.

 I feel like for him to really be connected to someone, he has to be around them a lot! The guy has no real boundaries, so he'll talk about whatever piques his interest and wouldn't mind if I ever chimed it with my own thoughts.

Physical Touch because, I'll be real, he looks touch starved but maybe that's me projecting? I'm gonna say it...he hasn't been held or touched nicely in years- the pat on the back or shoulders, sure, but you take one good look at him and tell me he's totally ok with Positive Touch (and positive emotions). No. I didn't think so. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #219

“make a move and you pay for it; pick a lord and you pray to it.”

Do you actually love your grandpa? I don't really remember either of mine. I do from what I remember and have learned of them, though. Do you actually love your grandma? I don't remember my dad's mom at all, but I mean, I love her simply for being my dad's mother, who loved her. My mom's mom, yeah, even though she's. Hard to like a lot of the time. Do you have Facebook? Yes. What was the last thing you posted on someone’s wall? A birthday post. Do you have MySpace? My old one still exists, but I sure haven't been on it since it was current. What is your favorite kind of music? Heavy metal. Favorite soft drink? Mountain Dew Voltage is actually cocaine to me rip. Favorite food? Probably like... pepperoni pizza or cheeseburgers. I'm a full-blooded 'Merican. Have you ever felt replaced? OH, HAVE I! Have you ever worn false eyelashes? No. Do you ever regret making a friend? I don't think so. Can you cure mental illness? I don't know about cure, but you can certainly learn how to handle it better and alleviate symptoms. Is God good? Define "God." Cats or dogs? Kitties. Do you play video games? Yeah, but I don't play nearly the variety that I used to. Do you take medication for mental health? Yes. Can you really be racist to a white person? No shit? Do you have a favorite hair accessory? What does it look like? No. What’s your favorite type of insect? Butterflies. What’s your LEAST favorite type of insect? Larvae, like maggots. Disgusting. Who was the last person you Facebook messaged? What did you say? What’s his/her favorite food? Idk and I don't feel like checking. I rarely use it. What was the last song you listened to? Does it mean anything to you? "Thoughts & Prayers" by Motionless In White is a mood with my mad-at-God-24/7 ass. It needs to stop honestly. I've become so hateful about religion. Not towards followers, mind you, just the concept itself. I could write a novel on this, but I don't feel like it. Just me and organized religion don't get along anymore. Have you ever slept in a water bed? On a water mattress, yeah. How do you feel about having sex during your menstrual period? Never tried, not for me. Sounds messy. Does your ex have a job? My most recent, I guess you mean? Yeah. Have you ever slept in a car? Yeah, on long drives to like New York and stuff. What was the last term of endearment you used (babe, hun, dear, etc)? *checks phone* "Sweetie." How often do you use Flickr? Never. I can't log into my account anymore since Yahoo said "fuck u Britt," so there's no point. Have you ever been on a blind date? No. Do you have a crush on the last person you texted? She's my girlfriend so y'know like- Have you ever got into an argument with the last person you kissed? We very much disliked each other at first, so... guess, lmao. Have you ever liked somebody who was nice to you, but horrible to everyone else? Eh, that's a mystery... Juan was very sweet to me, but I know he had a bad rep. I didn't really see how he interacted with others. How’s your appetite atm? It's normal. I'm not currently hungry. Out of all the conversations you’ve had recently, which one has made you smile or laugh the most? Sara randomly and excitedly texted me to tell me "Welcome to the Jungle" was on at work, which was on the radio both when I was there and she was here, so she thought of how much she missed me lakdjsfkalwe I smiled my face in half. Do you look decent in your most recent photograph? Eh, it wasn't awful. It was for my school ID. What is one vacation destination that many people think is just fabulous but which you personally have no desire to visit (or revisit)? New York City. My sis went and said it was 1.) insane and 2.) disgusting. If you were five years younger but knew everything at that age that you’ve actually learned over the last five years, what is one thing you would definitely do differently? Go to the partial hospitalization program way sooner. What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life? To earn a happy, content future. What activity that you have to do every once in a while that you dread the most? "Every once in a while," I'd say clean Mitsu's cage. She is such a strange rat. Enjoys pets, but being picked up is a no sir. When people hear what you do for a living, what is the most typical question or comment they give you regarding your job? N/A If you were left alone for one hour with nothing more than a pen and a notepad, what would you be inclined to draw or write during those 60 minutes? I'd probably write a poem. I know I wouldn't draw 'cuz fuck no am I doing so with a pen. If you could witness anything at all in super-slow motion, what would you want to see? Uhhh. Idk. Anything I can think of, like lightning, I've seen because of the Internet. If someone were looking for you in a bookstore, in what section would they be most likely to find you? Probably like, young adult fiction/fantasy, something like that. What do you forget to do more often than anything else? Lately, take one of my mood stabilizers. I need to get the box out... aaaand forget every day. I haven't felt any different without it tho so like... If you could teach everyone in the world one skill, what would it be? Compassion, maybe. You’ve been offered the chance to paint a billboard along a highway with any message you choose, as long as it’s only 10 words long. What is your message? I'm not spending time musing over something that serious lakaljdsfawe. Would you ever travel to Africa? Hell yes. I desperately want to go to South Africa on the Tswalu Kalahari tour. Whose house were you last at? Besides my own, my older sister's. Have you ever had a near-death experience? I guess this depends on how near death you mean. I've been in one car accident that my mom managed to make minor only by being a good driver; realistically, we should've flipped, according to the cop. My mom just acted quickly enough. Then I heavily ODed, but I was given more than enough fluids in time to keep me surprisingly okay. I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't told Mom so quickly, and I don't care to think about it. I'm fucking lucky and don't want to think about what could've happened. Have you ever met anyone who was overly addicted to a computer game? Tbh I myself could've been in this position when my depression was so bad, but then there's factors to that that lean towards it just having been a preference versus addiction. Idk. It's not a problem anymore so not worth debating over. Have you ever been fingered? That was the first cheat when you chose abstinence lmao. What do you do the most when you are online? Watch or listen to something on YouTube. What video game have you played the most? So in WoW you can actually type in /played to see how long you've played JUST that one character up to the years (or maybe days?) down to seconds and. I will never type it in lmao. Ongoing games are v depressing. Do you have scars you don’t like to talk about? No, those are thankfully gone. What is something you and your significant other do that may seem weird to others? Be helplessly and openly in love with imaginary demons while dating each other lmao (she's a Freeza fanatic). When and why did you last cry? The second day of school because of math class. When was the last time you drank? I think like... back on the 4th of July. Or some days after 'cuz I know Mom and I didn't finish the container in one night. Do you wear jewelry a lot? Just my piercings, really. Save for on my ear lobes because the holes on the left are fucked up, yay. I'm going to wind up just slightly stretching the first holes when I can afford a small kit; actual studs or hoops look stupid. Never wanted gauges until the holes got too stretched by the weight of hoops; now something needs to be there. Who in your household do you not have a good relationship with? My sister's (who doesn't even live here...) dog Bentley. I hate him and he doesn't like me. No, that doesn't mean I mistreat a pet. He's just a pain in the goddamn ass. Who in your life are you scared to lose more than anything? My mom. I don't know what would happen to me or how I'd cope at this time. Honestly, would you rather be single or in a relationship? I'm happier in a healthy relationship. Do any of your friends not get along at all? No. I mean, not that I know of. What are your 3 favorite internet sites? I'd be LOST without YouTube, then KM follows up close. #3, uh... Facebook or Tumblr, I suppose. Have you ever gotten anything autographed, if so by who & what was it? No. Well, I do have a little book of Disney World character autographs, but I don't think that really counts. Do you prefer Walmart or Target? We use Wal-mart. Who is your favorite model? Sara is a gd model don't even @ me about it. What have you done that is out of character for you? The Joel thing is the most anti-Brittany thing I've ever done for sure. I can't think of anything more current that stands out, unless it's- NO WAIT, this was quite a few months ago, but I firmly stood against an opinion my psychiatrist made known. He's very talkative and open as hell about his beliefs in current events, and he said something about pit bulls where I was just like... um no sir. I wasn't going to be rude though to HIM of all people so just said I don't base dogs by their breed and shut up. Awkward silence and we moved on. What do you feel strong enough to protest about? LGBT acceptance and rights. I already protest by having given up Chic-fil-a okay I care y'all. What’s the biggest blooper you’ve never lived down? Who knows... What is the best thing you have done just because you were told you can’t? Idk. I'm lucky to not have really been told that... What are you most thankful for? Thinking it all over, probably being born where I am. Boy is America FUCKED UP in some places, but boy would I be in a MUCH worse place if I was born in, say, North Korea, between my mental issues, sexuality, and opinions that can go to either end of the spectrum. How do you feel about thrift shops or flea markets? I love them! You can find the coolest, wackiest shit. What do you like to put gravy on? I hate gravy with a passion. Have you ever gone canoeing/kayaking? No. What one thing in particular makes you feel good about yourself? I genuinely think I'm a nice person that has other's well-being in mind. What is priceless to you? Love, in any form. What is one thing you know about your family history you’re proud of? Uhhh. I guess more than anything, I'm proud of my distant cousin for her unwavering love for and loyalty to her daughter when it came to escaping the Middle East and her dictatorial husband. Read Not Without My Daughter, it's great. Do you keep a budget? I don't have an income. What makes you feel rested and refreshed? Rested, a good night's sleep following being truly exhausted. Refreshed, oh man, gimme a hot, long shower. Who depends on you the most? Nobody. Could you ever be someone’s bodyguard? Hell no. Has one of your biggest fears come true? Yes. I was entirely convinced the world would literally end if Jason left. That night still doesn't feel real. Have you ever let your mom or significant other fight a battle for you? Colleen and Mom once fought after I'd ignored her, so I guess? It wasn't my wish or anything though for her to do it; Mom had shit to say by her own volition, and I wasn't going to tell my mother "no you can't do that." Did you create a checklist for your ideal spouse? No? Have you ever ridden on a subway or train and what did you like about it? Nope. Do you have to experience something to fully understand it? Yes. What embarrasses you instantly? A LOT A LOT A LOT!!!!! It is SO easy to embarrass me, including second-handedly. Do you think you could be a firefighter, why/why not? Hell no, I'm most certainly not in the necessary shape, and quite honestly I'm not that willing to risk my life for random people that could be assholes. What do you think should be censored? Idk. I have mixed feelings on censorship, no matter how stupid it seems. Eh... yeah, idk. Are you related to anyone famous or historical, if so who? Queen Victoria and William Clark. Would you ever donate a kidney to anyone, and who? Depends on who and obviously if we're even compatible. Have you ever fired a gun? No. What is the main quality you think makes a great parent? Sincerely caring for them, probably. Who is a female role model in your life? My mom, in some ways. What childhood dreams have you neglected? Jfc a lot, I don't want to think about it. What do you have trouble seeing clearly in your mind? My future, honestly. It's hard picturing my elderly days. Like I'm not suicidal anymore, I just don't really... realize I'll get there, I guess. I can't picture myself being old and alive. Would you travel to space if possible? No, too long of a trip. Are you an optimistic person? I'm a realist. Do you consider yourself more realistic OR idealistic? ^ Have you ever felt bi-curious? I started out accepting myself as bisexual through thinking myself as bicurious. I quickly realized "bisexual" was more accurate than "bicurious," but it was an easier thing to shift acceptance towards in regards to yourself when you thought you were straight for 21 years. Are you a fan of U.S. President Donald Trump? No sir. I agree with some of his ideas, but I hate him as an asshole person without a trace of manners. Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Multiple. I'd assume most people know someone who fits at least one criterion there. Are you green-eyed? Not exactly, but they definitely have a green hue to them. They're a gray/green blue. Would you consider UFC fighting and WWE real sports events? I think it's beyond debate that a lot of it is staged, but I mean, I guess to a degree? You still have to fight. It's physical exertion. Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? No. Wait. I can't remember if my grandmother had cancer or not... but I don't think so. She was just old. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? An office, definitely. In my work-hunting as well as actual work experience, office work is probably the only job I could actually do that doesn't require a degree... Do you have a favorite wild animal? Why? You can't know me and not be fully aware meerkats are my favorite animal. Why? Ho boy. I love social species, and meerkats have such strong personalities, and holy shit are those little things brave as fuck. They're so GOSH DARN CUTE!!!! too, and their loyalty to each other is astounding. I love how playful and curious the little guys are, and... just wow okay, I could write an actual essay on how I adore meerkats so goddamn much. Do you have any unusual, uncommon phobias? I'm sure there are other people afraid of whale sharks, but I don't think it's common? And is an actual phobia of pregnancy uncommon? Idk. Do you prefer Android or iPhone? I hate my Android. I've had an iPhone in the past, and it was great. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? All, depending on my mood. Most often I'd say I like sweet. Do you believe climate change is real? We can't be friends if you don't. Do you believe in evolution OR creationism? Evolution. Do you think people can really predict the future? Nah. Have you been to a lot of shrinks? I hate that word. Just call them therapists. But yeah. How often do you clean your room? Not often enough. I need to dust... Any movies coming out soon that you want to see? I DESPERATELY wanna see the "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark" one. Those books were my CHILDHOOD. What was the last fear you overcame? I don't know about totally overcame, but vocational rehab helped me quite a bit with answering the phone to numbers I didn't recognize. Have you ever hurt yourself trying to crack a body part? No, nothing on me really cracks. Well no, both my big toes do, but no, I haven't hurt myself trying to crack them. What’s the worst part about winter? The days where it's cold BUT ALSO WINDY asdkljfaklwej;awe Summer? It's too fucking hot and probably humid, too. Spring? POLLEN. Fall? Literally nothing. :') Are you allergic to anything? Pollen and silver. How many times have you changed a diaper in your life? Like, once. Which country has the most fascinating culture? Oh boy, idk. Who does your favorite song? Idrk what my current favorite song is. I say my all-time fave is "False Flags" by Massive Attack, but it's not something I constantly wanna listen to. I guess you could maybe say it's "Headache" by Motionless In White; I play and repeat that a lot. I've really been digging them lately. When was the last time you wore makeup? Shit dude, idk. Months ago. Do you prefer males or females or both? I'm generally afraid of men, but I mean, I don't "prefer" one over the other if he's a good guy. Where in your town do you go when you wanna chill with a few friends? I don't have any friends I go out with. But there's nowhere to go here anyway. Where’s the best place to get coffee? N/A Have you ever seen someone struggle with an addiction? My dad was an alcoholic, but he's recovered. He loved (idk if he still does it) fantasy football, too. Pretty sure I got my addictive personality from him, lol. When was the last time someone gave you flowers? Early 2017. Do you like cranberry juice? omfg NO. Do you play any zombie-killing video games? The Last of Us is fucking dope, but I didn't finish it before my PS3 broke. :'( I like the Resident Evil series too, and some of those games have zombies or similar creatures. And The Walking Dead game tears my heart out every fucking season. What is the dominating genre on your mp3 player/iPod? Varying forms of metal. Do you have a book shelf? No. What website do you spend way too much time on? YouTube is ALWAYS open. I constantly either watch let's players and a few other kinds of YTers, moving windows around so I can see it and do other things, or listen to music. Do you like wind chimes? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!! WINDCHIMES!!!!!!!!!! Do you have a fetish? No. Do you have a pet fish? No. Don't get me wrong, they're beautiful and calming, but not worth it for me personally. They don't have much of a personality at all, and cleaning a tank so much for just a fish isn't for me. Do you like kettle corn? (That sweet and salty popcorn) Yessss! Do you enjoy classic rock? Hell yeah, man. When was the last time you went for a walk, just cause? Not since I was at Sara's last. Do you listen to Type O Negative? No. Do you have any fillings or cavities? Yeah. Have you gotten your wisdom teeth taken out yet? No, and thankfully I don't need to. One was very close to needing to be, but it has just enough room. Do you actually read privacy policies when signing up for new things? "Depending on what I’m signing up for, I’m likely to at least skim it." <<< This. Did you have a lot of birthday parties when you were younger? If so, did you invite everyone in the class? I had a party every year up to... idk what age. And no, I only invited friends. Do you like when things are color coordinated? Yes. Have you ever participated in one of those “guess how many jelly beans, mints, etc. are in this jar!” contest? if so, have you ever won? Yeah, and no. Can you juggle? Nope. Have you ever mistaken a ringing phone on TV or in a movie for your own? Who hasn't? How often do you use bobby pins? Never. My hair's really too short for them. Well, I'd probably pin the right side up if I was doing something like cleaning. Do you live on an avenue, road, drive or something else? Road. What are your school colors? Blue and white. Have you ever taken a picture with Santa when you were little? Yeah. Have you ever rolled down a steep, grassy hill for fun? Actually yeah. Do you like Nerds candy? Yes I do.

[dontjudgemepeepswrites]

Nosebleed - Jake Peralta

Soulmate AU ~ any injuries you get, your soulmate gets as well. They don't just get the pain.

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

y/n - your name

y/f/n -your full name

y/s/n - your surname

y/e/c - your eye colour

y/h/l - your hair length

y/h/c - your hair colour

y/f/f - your favourite food

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

"Damn it," I think as I feel a punch to the face. By someone quite buff may I add. Except there's no one here other than me. It must be my soulmate. I then get punched again. For crying out loud, why's my soulmate gotta be so damn reckless? Eventually the punching stops. "Oh, thank goodness," I sighed in relief to no one in particular. However, I do realise I have a nosebleed.

Suddenly, my ringtone goes off. "Shit," I say, quickly grabbing a tissue before pressing accept and putting it on speaker without even looking at the caller ID. "Hello, this is Subway, what can I help you with?" I say, trying to cover up my nosebleed.

"Ha ha, very funny y/n. Anyway, you know how you're medically trained in first aid?" my cousin, Rosa, says.

"Well hello to you too Rosa. I'm good thanks. How about you?"

"I need your advice so I can sort out my idiot of a co-worker."

"What happened?"

"Our sergeant got mad and punched him in the face a few times and he's got a few injuries."

"You could Skype me. I'll be much more use that way."

"You alright? You sound strange."

"My doofus of a soulmate went and got themselves beat up and I've got a nosebleed."

"Oh, ok. I'll Skype you in a minute then."

"Ok," I say and hang up, waiting for the Skype call. Not long after, she calls on Skype and I immediately answer. "Okay, what are we looking at?" I ask.

"A nosebleed and a cut lip by the looks of it. Here, I'll show you," Rosa says, reversing the camera.

"Oh. That's all? It's not very serious Rosa. You just need no apply pressure with like a tissue or something for the lip and to keep his head down and hold the bridge of his nose. Do not tip his head back or he could get a blood clot. But in all honesty Rosa, why did you call me? I'm not an idiot, I know that you know how to deal with this sort of injury."

Rosa flips the camera back onto herself and sighs. "Fine. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you. I mean, you're always so busy and we never talk anymore."

"Look, I'm sorry we don't get to speak as much, but I'm so close to solving this case and it's just... y'know. You're a detective too. But I do have some good news!"

"What?" Rosa asks, genuinely interested.

"I'm moving to Brooklyn!"

"That's amazing, y/n! Do you have anywhere to stay? Because I'd be fine with having you as a roommate."

"Not yet, no. I just wanted to tell you before I made any plans. My precinct is actually quite shit here and I requested to transfer somewhere else in America and they said I could either move to Brooklyn or LA. But I'd love to stay with you, if I won't be a bother. Also, who is the guy that got beaten up by your Sargeant?"

"Jake Peralta. Cocky, childish and yet somehow one of the best detectives at the precinct. And of course you wouldn't be a bother! I'd love to have you here!"

"Hello Rosa's cousin! I'm Jake! The dashingly handsome and charming co-worker Rosa was talking about! Also, Rosa, 'I'd love to have you here', name of your sex tape!"

"I can see what you mean," I say to Rosa.

"Thank you!" Jake says, thinking I'm talking to him.

"I was saying that to Rosa." But he was kinda attractive, I have to admit.

"Oh. But still," he says.

"Y'know what, it's getting late here. I have to go," I say.

"I'm an hour ahead of you. And it's 10pm on a Saturday," Rosa points out.

"I know. I just really want to watch SNL. Sorry. I'll text you tomorrow though?"

"Sure. See ya y/n."

"Bye!" I say and then hang up.

Luckily my nosebleed has finished now. I quickly get up and grab some nachos while the adverts are on for SNL. This is gonna be a good night.

*time skip*

Ugh. I got no sleep last night and now I have a headache. I wonder if my soulmate can feel that. We don't feel every pain/injury the other soulmate feels, just most of them. Guys would absolutely hate it if they were forced to go through period pains every month. Girls would experience it anyway though. Ugh, what am I doing with my life? I'm 31 and I've not found my soulmate. I hate this. All of my co-workers and friends have found theirs. Heck, even my 16 year old niece has found hers and she's about half my age! I should try and get some sleep though. If my soulmate can feel this headache, it can't be very good for them.

*Jake's pov*

"You good there Jake?" Charles asks me.

"No. I've got the worst headache ever. I didn't drink last night. Did Terry punch me that hard? No, I'd have felt it sooner. It must be my soulmate. I hope they're ok, they seem to get hurt a lot."

"You can't speak, you get hurt loads too. I mean, think about it, they must've felt several of Terry's punches from last night. Heck, they may've even got a nosebleed!"

"Wait, what?"

"My doofus of a soulmate went and got themselves beat up and I've got a nosebleed."

"I said that they may've gotten a nosebleed. Why?"

"It's just, I was at Rosa's last night after getting beaten up by Terry because, y'know, she lives nearby and she started talking to her cousin, y/n, and y/n said that they got a nosebleed because their 'doofus of a soulmate went and got themselves beaten up'. And, as far as I'm aware, that's the only actual injury they had."

"Interesting. Could Jakey be finding his soulmate?" Charles suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Possibly. They're moving to Brooklyn so we can try and find out. But whatever you do, we cannot tell Rosa. She'll murder us. Luckily, I don't know if they're hot yet, because I didn't get to see their face, so that may make it a bit easier."

*a month later*

*Rosa's pov*

"Rosa!"

"y/n! I'm so glad you're here! How are you?" I ask, hugging y/n. We've always been incredibly close and they can read me like an open book.

"I'm amazing, Rosa! I really need this. I need a fresh start. The only things that will stay the same is our relationship and how much my soulmate gets hurt."

"Is it that bad? Mine barely ever hurts themself. I'm quite lucky, I guess."

"Yeah, it is that bad. But, to be fair, I get hurt a lot too. I mean, I am a... cop. Wait, Rosa. Do you think my soulmate's a cop too?! That would explain so much!"

"Possibly. But they may just be really clumsy. Like, really clumsy."

"What, so clumsy that they've been shot in the thigh?"

"Wait. Shot in the thigh? Where exactly?" I swear, if it is who I think it is, I'm gonna murder him for putting my cousin/best friend through that pain.

"Um, it was here. I literally had to go to the hospital it was so bad. I called an ambulance by the way. I didn't just drive to the hospital while having a bullet wound." They pointed to where they got shot and it was right where HE got shot.

"Peralta, you're a dead man walking," I mumble underneath my breath so that y/n can't hear me.

"Are you ok Rosa? You're worrying me."

"I'm fine. But if you don't mind me slapping you, I need to test a theory."

"Fine. You can slap me. But please take your ring off. And don't do it too hard," they sigh, knowing that I only ask to do something like that to them if I have a good reason to.

"I'm so sorry for this y/n," I apologise in advance, taking my ring off my finger. "Are you ready?" They nod their head in response. I slap them across the face harder than I intended to. In fact, it left a red mark. "Shit, I'm so sorry y/n. Let me get you y/f/f to make it up to you," I say, feeling extremely guilty.

"It's fine, I've had worse happen to me but thank you for taking your ring off for me," they assure, rubbing their cheek in pain. "But I'm not one to deny an offer of y/f/f so, let's go, I guess."

Once I'm in the car, I get a call from Amy so I answer it. "Hey Amy. What's up? Also, I've got y/n here."

"Oh, hey y/n. How are you?"

"I'm alright, I guess. Rosa just slapped me to test a theory but now she feels bad and is taking me to get y/f/f so that's making me feel better."

"Hang on, Rosa, I need to speak to you in private. Sorry y/n, it'll be nice seeing you again though!"

"Don't worry about it! I understand, you guys probably need to discuss a case or something. I'll just go and grab some takeaway y/f/f since we just pulled up at the shop so you two can talk in private. Bye Amy," y/n says. Bless them, they're so sweet.

Once y/n's in the store, I say "ok, so what's up?"

"Did you slap y/n to see if Jake is their soulmate?"

"Possibly. Why? Did it work? Is he in pain?"

"Yes, it was hilarious. Especially since he was about to make a 'name of your sex tape' joke and then just screamed. How did you know Jake is y/n's soulmate anyway?"

"We started talking about their soulmate and they mentioned that their soulmate got shot in the thigh and pointed to exactly where Peralta was shot. It was so bad that y/n had to go to hospital."

"I guess they're soulmates then. Now what do we do?"

"I don't know, but I know that Peralta's starting to suspect that y/n could be his soulmate. I eavesdropped on a conversation him and Boyle had like a month ago and resisted the temptation to kill him. We need a plan. y/n's going to start working for the precinct in a week so we need to get them together before that. Don't say anything to Peralta, I'll talk to y/n."

"I'm scared about what your gonna do and say, but ok. Alright, I'll see you tomorrow Rosa."

"See ya Amy. Bye," I say and hang up. Right at that moment, y/n comes back into the car with the food.

"So how was your conversation?" they ask, trying to be polite but also secretly being a bit nosy.

"Fine. We're gonna go to my apartment now to eat. Also, I forgot to say, I got you a little welcome gift that I'm gonna give to you then. And don't you dare say what I think you're gonna say."

"A little welcome gift that I'm gonna give to you then--"

"y/n, don't."

"-- name of your sex tape," they say, ready to tuck and roll out of the car if need be.

"You and Jake are definitely gonna get along well," I say under my breath. Either y/n doesn't hear it or chooses to ignore it.

*at the apartment*

*y/n's pov*

"Welcome to your new home. I'll sort out the food, the present for you is on the table," Rosa announces, not needing to give me a tour since I've already been here several times. I look at the table, curiosity oozing out of me.

"Oh my goodness. Are you serious?! Tickets to see SNL live?! You shouldn't have," I say in shock.

"Consider it a welcome present. Besides, it's gonna be night out with the girls. You, me, Amy and Gina, who you haven't met yet."

"What's she like?"

"She's strange, but she has good intentions. Sometimes. You'll like her," Rosa explains. I let out a sigh of relief. "What? You scared you'll have social problems at work?"

"No. It's more just a sigh to show that I'm happy with the choice I've made and to be getting this fresh start with my best friend next to me."

"Ew. Emotions. But, I guess I can make an exception for you," Rosa lets out a small smile.

*the next day*

*Jake's pov*

"Pssst, Jake. We have a pink unicorn," Charles whispers not-so-discreetly.

"Ooh, I wanna see it," Scully says in awe.

"I'll give you a soda if you don't go," I say.

"Deal." I chuck him a soda which explodes the moment he opens it.

"A deal's a deal," I quip, going into the evidence locker. A while ago, Charles and I established a code. A pink unicorn means he's got info about my soulmate.

"Alright, so, y'know how Amy's terrible at lying and keeping secrets? Well I asked her what she's doing on Saturday night and said she was babysitting a datish - a mixture of a dog, cat and a fish - and admitted quite quickly what she was actually going to do: her, Rosa, Gina and y/n are gonna go to the live taping of SNL! I'm actually so jealous."

"Interesting... Boyle, what do you say we have a guy's night out? You and me go see a Saturday Night Live, live. Terry and Holt are probably busy and I don't think either of us really want Hitchcock and Scully to come so that cuts them off. How about it?"

"Are you serious?! A night with my best friend AND Benedict Cumberbatch?! I'd be insane to say no!"

"Great. Pick me up at 9:30 on Saturday."

"Will do."

*Saturday night*

*y/n's pov*

As I get out the shower, there's a knock at the door. I soon hear a voice that I've not heard (in real life) for ages. I quickly put on my clothes that I'm wearing to SNL on and run into the living room.

"Amy! It's so nice to see you again!"

"Hey y/n! It feels like it's been forever! How are you? Have you found your soulmate yet?" she asks, but it looks like she's trying to hide something.

"Amy, are you alright? You seem nervous."

"They're right. What did you tell Peralta?" Rosa asks, filled with suspicion.

"I didn't tell him anything! I told Boyle," she reasoned.

"That's basically the same thing! Whatever Boyle knows, Jake knows. And that's never good," Rosa says, whipping her phone out.

"I'm sorry, can one of you please explain what's happening? Who's Boyle? And what about Peralta? He's Jake, right? The one who got hurt that you called me about. What does he have anything to do with this?" I ask, confused out of my mind. Amy and Rosa look at each other, letting out a sigh of defeat.

"Well, we have reason to believe that Jake... is your soulmate. You remember when I slapped you? I nodded in response. "That's to see if something happened to Jake. It did. I first got to this theory when you told me about your soulmate getting shot in the thigh. You pointed to the exact same bit where he got shot.  Normally, finding out he's your soulmate wouldn't be a problem. You'd just meet in the corny way most soulmates do. But Jake and his best friend, Charles Boyle, figured it out as well. Boyle then asked Amy what she's doing tonight and she told him. I can guarantee that Peralta and Boyle will be there."

"Ok. So what should I do? Should I try and find him or try and avoid him?" I ask, not sure how to handle the current situation.

"It's your choice. You're starting to work with him on Monday so you'll see him soon anyway."

"Ok then. I think what I'll do is not make it too easy for him to find me. If he wants to meet me tonight, I'm not just gonna let myself fall into his palm. And I think I have a plan."

"Great! Now we just need to wait for Gina to arrive," Amy says.

"You called, bitches?" a woman greets as she enters the apartment.

"I like you already."

*at the studio*

"Are you ready, girls?" I ask, a smirk clear on my face. I get an array of yes's in reply. "Good. Now, let's get this show on the road." The girls sit in their seats while I go backstage. I'm so glad that Rosa knows the writers and they helped us arrange something last minute.

"Hello, my name is Benedict Cumberbatch. I'm hosting SNL tonight. I've been about the plan and don't worry, I'll give nothing away."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"I would like to know why you're doing this though? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"Because both him and I are detectives. What kind if detective would I be if I just gave him the satisfaction of meeting his soulmate when he planned it? It would be like a criminal admitting to murdering 19 people and admitting to it the very first time a police officer talked to them."

"Ah, I see. Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you. Well, I think the show's about to start so, good luck. You'll do great!"

"Thank you. Until we meet again," Benedict says and walks away, making final preparations, I assume.

The music starts and Benedict walks on stage, gaining a wild round of applause.

*Rosa's pov*

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you all so much! It's such an honour to be hosting Saturday Night Live tonight! It's honestly a bit of a relief. I mean, I've had a tiring day. I would do what all Brits do, which is drink. Like a lot. Or spend ages walking around in hopes that you'll meet someone, literally anyone, that could have anything to do with your soulmate. Anyone. It could even be someone who had a one night stand with them. Actually, I met a very nice detective before I came on. They said their soulmate's here tonight and they were hoping to find them. Young love, am I right? Hey, Beck, how did you know Jessy was the one for you?"

"She punched my arm quite hard and felt the impact herself," Beck answered.

"I meant personality-wise," Benedict whispers.

"Oh. She was kind to me."

"Beck. That's not what I meant. What drew you to her?"

"I just told you."

"Just go get ready for the sketches," Benedict sighs, motioning for Beck to go backstage, causing the audience to laugh. "But anyway, my point was, if you ever feel down, drink like a Brit. Or be desperate. Anyway, on with the show! We'll be right back after a few words from our sponsors." The airing sign turns off, indicating that it's gone to the break.

"Oh my god! Girls, I didn't know you were here! You probably just came for Benedict Cumberbatch though. Anyway, where's your cousin, Rosa?" Jake asks, coming over, Boyle right behind him.

"One, why do you care why we're here, two, why do you care about my cousin, you've never met them, and three, they're not here. The three of us wanted a girl's night and to get away from your annoying ass for two minutes and the tickets were available," I respond in my normal voice.

"Then who's that detective Cumberbatch was talking about, huh?" Boyle questions, pulling a strange face, thinking that he's got us.

"There are loads of single detectives in New York. We all know that. And it's a popular show, there are bound to be other detectives here. Besides, it could be literally anyone in here," I respond. "Now leave my cousin alone. You'll see them on Monday at the precinct." I say this because I know that he'll want to see them before then and now has a time limit. A man tells us all to sit back down so we do.

*Jake's pov*

I walk back to my seat, deep in thought. No matter how much I hate to admit it, Rosa's probably right. As I arrive aback at my seat, I see a note on my chair.

So, you want to meet me before I start work on Monday :D

I sit down, holding the note. What the frick is happening? I look over at the girls and see then smirking at me. Amy holds up a bunch of paper which looks identical to the note I've been given. Those sons of bitches.

*next break*

"Sorry, are you Jake Peralta?" a voice asks me.

"Yes, I am. How can I help?" I say, looking up and seeing the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Maybe this is my soulmate!

"Those girls over there asked me to give this to you." It's another note!

Well I'm not gonna make it easy for you :D

Dammit.

*next break*

"Sir? A group of girls asked me to give you this. I'm assuming it's their phone numbers or something but one with black, curly hair told me not to look," a camera operator says as they hand me another note.

If you can find me by midnight, I'll declare you the best detective/genius there is (yes, I know about that). However, if you don't, you must declare me the greatest detective/genius there is. You'll get your final note at the end of the show from Gina :D

Game on, y/l/n.

*the end of the show*

"Gina, I believe you have something to give me," I say proudly.

"Hand out and eyes closed," she instructs. I roll my eyes but acquiesce. I feel something in my hand. "Open." I look at my hand and then at Gina.

"It's a note. Why did you do that?"

"To stall for time."

Well, Peralta. The time has come and I shall now test your memory skills. Think back to the character that was described in the first sketch. I match that description. Oh, you've also seen me several times so this shouldn't be too hard. I look forward to you telling the precinct about my awesomeness :D p.s. No one's left yet. I have my ways to make this as hard as possible.

The person described in the first sketch. They had... I think it was y/e/c eyes, y/h/l y/h/c hair and y/s/t skin. I head into the lobby, searching for someone who matches my description. It's currently 11:15pm which means I have 45 minutes. That's plenty of time

*11:55pm*

Dammit. There's still no sign of them.

"Hey, Peralta. Take this hint," Rosa says, handing me another note.

I never said I was in the lobby, did I? You know what they say, assuming makes an ass out of u and me ;)

Of course. I'm an idiot. They're a smort detective and figured out that I'd just assume that they were in the lobby. Unless, it's a red herring and now they've entered the lobby. I have another quick yet thorough (title of my sex tape) scan of the crowd. Nope, still no one. I frantically search the building for the last 5 minutes before I lose. Then I hear it. The clock chimes midnight. Dammit. I then get a text from a blocked number.

Blocked Number: sent at 00:01

Too bad you didn’t find me Peralta, I guess you’re just gonna have to see me tomorrow

Dammit.

*Monday*

*Rosa's pov*

"Are you ready to tell everyone how you're better than Peralta, y/s/n?" Rosa asks with confidence as we're in the elevator going up to the bullpen.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Diaz." Just as I say this, the elevator dings open. Peralta looks at who's arriving and I swear, his jaw hits the ground. "Peralta, flies are going to go in your mouth if you don't shut it," I sass.

"It was you?!" he expresses in shock.

"We'll talk about all of that once I've met everyone. That's when you can make the announcement."

"Ah, Detective y/s/n. I'm Captain Raymond Holt. I believe that you're already acquainted with most of the precinct. This is Sergent Terry Jeffords and these are Detectives Hitchcock and Scully. Welcome to the precinct."

"Thank you for letting me join such a high-status precinct, Captain."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but would you mind telling me why Peralta looks like he's been hit by a mallet seven times?" Sergeant asks.

"Of course. Now, as you may or may not know, Peralta and I are soulmates and all of these detectives figured it out. Except Hitchcock and Scully. But anyway, I decided to play a little game with Peralta since he decided he wanted to hijack my night at SNL with the girls to meet me before today. I wrote him several notes to be given to him at certain points. I gave Peralta an hour to find me, to which he didn't. But the reason why he's so shocked is because I gave him two of the five notes myself! Isn't that right, Jake?" He nods his head. "One time as myself, pretending that Gina, Amy and Rosa gave me one to pass on and the second time as a crew member of SNL. I threw in a little story saying that Rosa threatened me to not open it. I then continued to pretend to be a crew member for the rest of the show. I stayed as a crew member until 11:30. I then went to the bathroom and went back into my clothes from when I gave Peralta the first of the two notes. He swept past me several times without noticing. And the last note was a red herring, but also a genuine reason as to why you couldn't find me. And now, Peralta, I believe you have something to say to everyone here."

"Yeah, you're right," Peralta says with a sigh. Everyone gets their phones out, even those who are unaware of what's about to happen. "y/f/n is the world's greatest detective/genius," he mumbles.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I ask mockingly.

"y/f/n is the world's greatest detective/genius!" he shouts.

"There we go," I say. He looks at me and pouts. I kiss him on the cheek to get a reaction out of him and he blushes deeply.

"Peralta, are you blushing?" Rosa asks, still filming and loving every moment of this.

"Psh, no. Of course not," Jake dismisses.

"Well I think you're cute when you blush," I admit confidently, knowing he's already wrapped around my finger. His blush gets deeper. "Aww, he's embarrassed. How about we go for drinks after work so I can make up for it?"

"Definitely! I mean, I don't care," he tries to play off.

"You're such a dork, Peralta," I say with a smile.

[cami-chats]

The Truth About Budapest

((Which I wrote because I couldn’t find any Budapest fics set up like this???))

Fandom: Marvel

Pairings: None

Warnings: None 

"This is like Budapest all over again!" Natasha said, shooting at the aliens.

Clint made a face, pulling arrows from his quiver and releasing rapidly, dropping enemies like they were flies. "You and I remember Budapest very differently."

When the battle was over and they were all caught up on sleep and became more like a team than a group of people pushed together by terrible circumstances, everyone asked them about what had happened in Budapest.

And all the answers were different.

Steve:

Clint rolled his eyes as Natasha opened her mouth to say something, cutting her off before she could get a word out. "She was undercover, and she's still pissed off that I missed the ballet she was in. I said that I was sorry," he said, looking at her pointedly.

"I've never missed one of your cover's dates," she said haughtily.

"You did so!"

"When?"

"Paris, 2004, we were supposed to meet up for-"

Steve backed away slowly from the argument until he was out of the room. He wasn't sure the answer he got was worth what it started, but at least they were yelling at each other and not him.

Bruce: ​

"It wasn't actually anything special," Clint said with a shrug, perusing the options for new arrows that Tony had made for him. "Nat just likes to be a dick about it."

Bruce frowned. "Well what happened?"

"The safe house we were supposed to stay in was unusable. Ceiling had caved in and there wasn't a basement, but we didn't have anywhere else to go so," he shrugged. "Pulled up a blanket and slept next to the rubble and hoped that it didn't crush us in our sleep."

Bruce rolled his eyes. There was no need to be so dramatic, but he guessed that living as a spy/assassin like Clint had for over a decade would have some sort of lasting effects, and if those effects were embellishing boring stories to make them seem more life threatening, well, there were far worse things that could have happened. "Sounds pleasant," was all he said though, continuing on his way to the kitchenette.

Sam:

"Hm?" Natasha said, looking up from where she was cleaning her gun. "Oh." She snorted. "Clint fell in a dumpster in the middle of a fight."

"He fell," Sam repeated flatly. "In a dumpster."

"If you can't picture it, I can help you out. It's one of my most cherished memories; I'm thinking about commissioning a painting."

"How did that even happen? Did he get pushed?"

An amused smile quirked on her lips. "That wouldn't be nearly embarrassing enough. He was jumping out of a window, but he chose the wrong one. There was supposed to be a fire escape, only he went two windows too early and landed in the dumpster."

"Oh my god," Sam said, howling with laughter.

"It was half full, he landed in sludge, and sprained his wrist. And to top it all off, he didn't catch a shower for two days after that."

"This explains so much about him," Sam said, doubled over and wiping at his eyes.

Natasha nodded and went back to putting her gun together. "It really does," she muttered.

Tony:

Tony, being Tony, didn't actually ask either Natasha or Clint what happened; he tried to hack into Shield's servers to get the information. He'd entertained the idea of asking for a moment, but he brushed it aside when he realized that he wouldn't get a straight answer from either of them-- and if he did, it would certainly be a lie.

So he decided to look into it himself, and he tried to hack the file. Tried. It wasn't that Shield's security had suddenly gotten exponentially better, it was that the file wasn't there. There was barely even a mention of it, and that mention was in one of Coulson's reports, and it wasn't even a report he should have been doing! It was an injury report that he filled out for Clint, and it didn't say anything that Tony didn't already know. It happened in Budapest, and he had to be checked over by a medical team.

Woo, he thought dully. Clint got sent to the medical team twice for every fight-- once for the fight itself, and once for the in between times when he did something stupid like grab a pan from the oven without an oven mitt on. (And that had been a sad day. He'd put all the pizza rolls on one giant sheet and then dropped them all over the floor, and they didn't get another grocery delivery for four days. Clint basically starved in that time, and his hand was too burnt for him to use his bow.)

So, armed with nothing other than annoyance and a decade old ​injury report, Tony decided to bother Coulson for a while. Under the guise of being helpful, of course.

...Aaaand Coulson herded Tony out of his office, expression never changing from carefully impassive, although Tony would like to think that he detected a hint of frustration on the air-- and with the lack of actual answers he was willing to take what he could get.

The next approach was Clint, and he tried to bribe him with stun arrows, but Clint must have been tired out of his mind at the time that he asked because he started singing Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds and waltzed away. Tony frowned after him, frozen in place and more than a little confused. Was this how other people felt when he dodged questions? Because if it was, he owed Pepper an apology or two hundred. Rhodey too, but more like a thousand for him, since he'd been around when Tony was a teenager.

He asked Natasha after a sparring session, and afterwards asked her about Budapest. She stared at him evenly for a moment, taking a swig of water. She walked past and pat him on the shoulder. "You had good balance today."

Bucky:

"Why?" Natasha asked, glancing over at him. He was on one of Tony's spruced up treadmills next to her normal one. They usually ran in silence when they worked out together, ​but here he was, asking her about Budapest out of the blue.

"Just... r'membered somethin' I think." He had that little scrunch to his forehead that meant he was trying to dust off a memory.

"You were in Budapest?" she asked, lowering the speed on her treadmill so she didn't get too winded.

"At some point, yeah. What happened with you?"

"It was like a romance novel," she said, pitching her voice higher and putting on a nondescript accent for effect. "I saw Clint across the cafe and he offered me a flower." She put her wrist to her forehead and stopped running, letting the track pull her to the end and then off. It took her body a second to get used to a still ground, and she hopped back on once she got her bearings.

Bucky snorted. "You coulda just said no, y'know."

"Now where's the fun in that," she said, shooting him a smirk that he returned.

"You gonna tell me someday?"

"On my deathbed, maybe."

The Truth:

The truth about Budapest was that it was a mission gone horribly wrong, yet somehow neither of them came close to dying. Clint had gotten doused with a hallucinogenic gas at some point-- she still didn't know how that happened, and Clint either didn't remember or wasn't talking.  

So Clint started hallucinating and thought he was back at the circus, and he ended up all but destroying a building and blowing their cover as non-Americans. The gang they'd been there to investigate had automatically pulled out their guns, and Natasha was left trying to herd him out of the building between rubble and shrieking civilians. Luckily for them, none of the gang members wanted to risk hurting civilians either, so she was able to get Clint out of the way before anything serious went down.

Strangely enough, the gang wasn't an issue. They made an alliance against the actual troublemakers of the city, and the mission continued on. It wasn't as planned, but it all worked out in the end. (Except for the fact that Clint was out of it for their entire visit and learned about what had happened from Natasha telling him.)

So when Natasha referenced Budapest, it could mean that there were drugs, that they had the wrong idea, that Clint was being stupid, or... any number of things, really. Clint had given up on trying to figure out what the exact connection was because it changed every time.

If the Winter Soldier had been there at the same time, they didn’t run into him, and Natasha was endlessly grateful for that.

(Bucky remembered, a few years later, that Budapest had been one of the brief time periods that he’d run away from Hydra before being picked up and wiped again. He’d seen Clint and Natasha there because he was in the same bar that Clint had nearly destroyed in his delirium, and he gave them both shit for it when he got the memory back.)

[cadpadawan]

What a time to be alive!

On March 11 2020 the World Health Organization declared that the outbreak of a viral disease, with a name similar to a certain brand of light beer, had reached the level of a global pandemic. In the panic reaction, that ensued the reports about the number of the infected, the mass demand on toilet paper and instant noodles skyrocketed on an intergalactic scale. As I let this sink in, it becomes increasingly clear that not even the best of stand-up comedians could have made this shit up!

A great deal of the recent public narrative has focused on the importance of social distancing, and something as surreal as the correct hand washing technique. It turns out, that an acute and extremely violent diarrhea is not a typical symptom of this disease. So, even in the most unfortunate case, that I would become infected with this novel coronavirus-thingy, it wouldn't be exactly the most rational manouver to stockpile 500 rolls of toilet paper, in preparation for a two-week isolation period. Unless, of course, I happened to have some weird pre-existing medical condition that would force me to poop runny and fluid shit non-stop in this doomsday bunker of mine. So far, I haven't been diagnosed with such a syndrome, not that I know of, anyway.

Of course...

There is always the chance, that the universe had a special treat preserved just for me, for a special occassion, like this:

SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKER!

As for the counter-measures...I have actually practiced the noble art of social distancing and personal hygiene long before it started trending. You see, I'm not exactly a people's person. I'm more like one of those ”mind your own business and fuck off!”-persons. And coming to think of it... What kind of person does NOT wash hands after taking a shit, anyways?!?

Seriously, though...Now the University of Applied Sciences, where I am currently studying mechanical engineering, has also closed doors. The University administration had the forethought to do so in advance, a week before the Finnish government ordered all schools to go online. The ongoing product development school project is pretty easy to execute online, luckily. So, in this respect, this global panic should not compromise my studies that much. I'm quite self-disciplined, so this sudden change of plans did not exactly freak me out. I think I have the emotional strenght to focus on this school project, despite the fact that it would be much more pleasant to binge on alcoholic beverages and PS4 for the next couple of weeks. On a side note, I've been playing the novelty PS4 game Death Stranding for a few months now. Suddenly, the dystopian atmosphere of the game does not seem that far-fetched. We are turning into something similar to the game's isolated prepper characters. (Or, to be more to-the-point, I doubt there ever was a time when humanity was truly connected – when there was no physical barriers, we built the barriers in our minds, that's for sure...)

While conducting an in-depth online research into the topic of the school project, I also went through the trouble of getting the facts straight about the coronavirus via some quality sources of information. Let's face it: social media does not qualify as such. If I was dumb enough to take the corona-garbage in my Facebook newsfeed seriously, it would mean that this COVID-19 outbreak was either:

1) a punishment from a narcissistic god, on the grounds that humanity is a bunch of ungrateful little shits, wallowing in a cesspool of sin – homosexuality, gender equality and veganism, in particular.

2) a pre-emptive strike in the forth-coming WW3, conducted by a biological weapon that was engineered in some top-secret level-5 security military lab in Wuhan, China.

3) A dick move played on the Jumanji-board, that some douchebag accidentally came across in the estate of his deceased grandmother.

4) A Black Death reconstruction executed by the aliens responsible for this shit show simulation.

So, what the actual fuck is this coronavirus, then?

We are witnessing the triumph of an infectious disease, that is caused by a severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus-2 (SARS-CoV2). The COVID-19 monicker seems to stand for a novel CO-rona-VI-rus D-isease that emerged in 2019.

Coronaviruses are fairly common in the animal kingdom, although, this novel coronavirus seems to be one of a kind, that has not been previously detected. If I asked my internet friends here, they would probably say something along the lines of ”I'm not saying it was aliens...but it was aliens!”

Either that, or Mother Nature just wants to kill us all?

The source of the virus is not yet fully known. The latest findings suggest all kinds of bat-related stuff. So, I guess it would be fairly safe to assume, that the world has now officially gone bat shit crazy? The year 2020 will be forever remembered as the Great Pandemic of toilet paper hoarding. Officially, the common symptoms of COVID-19 include high fever, dry coughing, shortness of breath, fatigue paired with muscle and joint pain. No mention of convulsive diarrhea anywhere. Are the government officials withholding some crucial information, in the best dystopian fashion? I guess it would prove pretty hard to maintain morale, if the public was told that we are going to dive in some deep shit, in the most literal meaning of the expression.

Well, I didn't stock up on emergency supplies.

I'm a student with no budget, for fuck's sake. I live from one government hand-me-down to the next, or as we say in Finnish: ”kädestä suuhun”. It literally means ”from hand to mouth”. I could not possibly afford to stockpile shitload of TP or anything else, for that matter. Not that I even wanted to. I find it extremely hard to believe, that the world is going to run out of toilet paper any time soon...or...if a single drop of bat guano is going to collapse all civilization as we know it, then...maybe all this so-called ”civilization” is not so civilized to begin with... From a bystander's view, this onslaught of basic human stupidity, that this pandemic seems to have released upon us, makes it fairly easy to relate to the idea, that Mother Nature really wants us all dead. Maybe...just maybe...the real virus that is threatening all lifeforms on this blue planet is human, not some small agent that replicates inside the cell of an organism. After millennias of gang-bang-thank-you-Ma’m it's payback time?

Whatever the case, it's peculiar that, at this point, the virus seems to have entered Europe via Italy. Well, it still remains to be confirmed, but...if this actually proves to be the case, it would bear an uncanny resemblance to another historical pandemic from way back – the Black Death, that swepth across Europe in the 14th century. Well, y'know...history on repeat etc...

The Black Death, a.k.a. The Great Bubonic Plague, was the first major outbreak of a pandemic on the European continent. It probably originated somewhere along the Mongol conquest of China, due to a pathogen spillover event. Such an event most likely took place somewhere in the Hubei province in China in late 2019. A reservoir population with a high pathogen prevalence, like maybe some killer bats from outer space, or a secret military lab, came into contact with a novel and unsuspecting host population – the ordinary chinese folks doing some grocery shopping at the local market.

Back in the day, the war-mongering Mongols obviously had no clue about the correct hand washing technique, or cough etiquette. The plague spread like wildfire among the troops. It was caused by a bitchy pathogen, a bacterium called Yersinia Pestis. Eventually, the pathogen traveled down the Silk Road to the seaports of Europe, among the Mongol army. To be precise, the pathogen was actually carried by fleas that black rats were infested with. When the Mongol armies arrived at Europe, things got a bit gruesome. Djanibek Khan was the commander of a massive Crimean tatar force, that sieged the port city of Kaffa in 1348. By conducting a somewhat brutal manouver in biological warfare, Djanibek Khan's troops catapulted infected corpses over the city walls. A few infected Genoese traders managed to escape – and introduced the Black Death onto Italian soil. The rest is history.

Ok, let's assume the internet scholars, religious freaks and conspiracy theorists were right for once. Why does the entry point always have to be Italy?

It's almost as if the history of mankind wanted to suggest, that God had some serious bone to pick with the Italians. What have the Italians done in the past, that seems to have compromised the cosmic balance so seriously?

Luigi, you did not by any chance place a slice of pineapple on the pizza, did you?!?

Ever since the Dark Ages, politically motivated monoteistic religions have always blamed normal people for any kind of disasters. The concept of God's mercy is convenient in such a way, that premature death in the hands of any natural disaster would automatically grant an instant VIP-entrance to the delights of afterlife paradise, for a beliver, whereas for a non-believer it most certainly would mean a severe charcoal-grilled punishment in the never-ending flames of hell. In this respect, these so-called Abrahamic religions have not really changed in the last 4000 years. If history can teach us only one thing, it would be: the vast majority of mankind is actually dumb as shit.

So, what can I do?

Not much, except keep avoiding stupid people, as usual, and keep washing my hands as if I had a severe obsessive-compulsive disorder. Yeah, I'll just keep focus on my studies. Whenever I need a break from the depths of mechanical engineering, I'll just check on the news to see the most recent updates in this global shit show. It's funny, when I read about the history of mankind, I can't help but think, that my ancestors must have been of a special kind of stupid in many ways, indulging in a behaviour that was harmful to themselves in the long term. As I watch the stupidity of mankind unfolding right before my very eyes, I feel the occassional urge to book the next flight to Northern Italy and start licking doorknobs in the local supermarkets, relentlessly. Maybe I could wash the sour taste from my mouth with an ice-cold Corona beer, with a slice of lime in it. The path of glory has been well-defined, like aeons ago. The issue has always been how to bring everyone along for the ride. With the general attitude being ”Me first & The Gimmie Gimmies” (the best band name ever, by the way!), we're heading towards the biggest butt-fuck in the history of humanity. Maybe we'd be better off hoarding lubricant, instead of toilet paper?

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Makers of History (Ao3) Fandom: DC Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Mick Rory & Georgie Washington

Summary: Mick has enough of the Legends and decides to quit mid-mission to stay with someone who actually appreciates him.

Someone like - Georgie Washington.

(AU of 'Turncoat' where Mick stays in the American Revolution instead)

A/N: 100% inspired by an excellent idea by @jq-piccadilly, who is ALSO writing her own version of something similar which is going to be awesome - so everyone should go encourage her :D

also note the alternate fic style tag. this is written like a textbook.

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"I must say, I'm sorry to see you go," Georgie comments after releasing Mick from the hug. "We can always use good men such as yourself."

Mick frowns.

It's been so long since he's heard a kind word, and from the same sort of sneaky planner as Len used to be - so long since he's been anything but a burden, that he's been wanted - it's nice. He'd forgotten how nice.

"You know what," he says on an impulse. "Why not?"

"What?" Sara says blankly.

"Lemme get my stuff," Mick tells Georgie, who beams. "I'll be right back."

"Splendid!"

Mick turns and goes for the ship.

"What, what's going on?" Ray asks, jogging to catch up. He'd had to come see Georgie once before they left. "What did you mean?"

"Can I borrow your shrink tech for a bit?" Mick asks instead. "I need a way to carry shit, since there's gonna be more fighting before we get to stop. Gideon!"

"Yes, Mr. Rory?"

"I need books on early American history - military, political, biographical, whatnot, if you've got 'em, I want 'em - and print 'em on dyslexic-friendly paper, will ya? I need 'em in a single fake-book, make it look like the Bible to any eyes but mine. Make it run on - hmm - bit of Haircut's dwarfstar, and gimme a solar powered charger just in case."

"Will do, Mr. Rory," Gideon chirps.

"What are you doing?!" Ray exclaims.

"Throw in some maps," Mick says, ignoring him. "Natural resources, land prices around this period - horse racing win tallies, if we've got 'em. Standard staying kit, you know what I mean."

"Certainly, Mr. Rory."

"You can't possibly mean to stay," Stein says from the door.

"Gonna need cash," Mick continues. "Put all the shiny shit I have in my room in a chest with a loop on the end, so I can put it on a chain once it's shrunk, and toss in a few handfuls of pieces of eight or silver dollars to make up the rest. Oh, and some decent guns masked to look like era-appropriate pistols."

"Might I also suggest items to be used for cleanliness, Mr. Rory?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, lay in a supply. Especially flea repellant, that shit's not on."

"The effects on the timeline -" Stein adds.

"I'll be good, professor," Mick says. "Relax."

"Shall I include your audiobooks?" Gideon asks.

"My shrink's stuff? Yeah, might as well. Make 'em earmuffs."

"Excellent suggestion, Mr. Rory."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sara says. "Mick's not leaving."

"Yeah, I am," Mick says. "Haircut, can I borrow that shrink thing you've got? I know you made a duplicate. I wanna shrink it all down to something I can carry."

"Uh, sure," Ray says, looking dazed. "But -"

"I'll also borrow your thingumajig for summoning the Waverider," Mick assures him. "Don't think I'll use it, but, y'know, just in case. Oh, Gideon - I want a full set of vacs before I go, and some of those future pills against malaria and cholera and shit like that."

"I'm including a full spectrum of medications, disguised in time-appropriate containers, with a guide on how to use them," Gideon reports. "I'll update your vaccinations if you'll just swing through the med bay before you go."

"Good luck, man," Jax says.

"Thanks," Mick tells him. He always did like Jax.

"Stop talking like he's going!" Sara shouts. "He's not going!"

Mick snorts, drawing her attention.

"Blondie," he says gently, pulling out Kronos' pulse rifle from where he'd shoved it behind his cabinet. "I'd like to try to see you stop me."

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The original origins of Michael "Mick" Rory remain shrouded in mystery. According to one primary source, he once informed a sitting room that he was born 'out west', undoubtedly referring to one of the remote outposts of one of the colonies, although we have uncovered no information as to which one.

His name (and nickname) suggest an Irish ancestry, but Mr. Rory does not appear to have been a devout Catholic. On the contrary, his regular habit of telling bawdy jokes in the morning got him expelled from more than one church later in life, and no historian has adequately determined what denomination or ethnicity he belonged to, only that he was most likely Irish but possibly some generations removed from Ireland, as no one ever commented on him having an accent.

Any information about his family life, education, or, indeed, youthful career have sadly been lost to history. Indeed, Mick Rory appears to have sprung, as if fully formed, to join Washington in crossing the Delaware.

An extraordinarily tall man for the era - 6'2", the same height as George Washington, himself a famously tall figure - Mick Rory's close association with the General led to the two of them being called 'the Titans': a fearsome and intimidating duo, and the sight of Mr. Rory standing at Washington's back was (reportedly) enough to convince several individuals of wavering loyalty to throw their support to the rebellion's cause. Indeed, unlike General Washington, Mr. Rory was not only tall, but reportedly very burly as well. The diaries of various soldiers that accompanied them spoke of his fondness for engaging in arm-wrestling, in which he virtually never lost, and of various feats of strength that were even more impressive given that at the time of the Revolution he was already in his early forties.

Mr. Rory's manner was generally coarse and his manners have been called "shockingly base", but by all accounts he was possessed of incredible wit and dry humor. He was rarely without a sly quip or, worse, a terrible pun at hand; Benjamin Franklin called him "a Menace at a Funeral" for his pithy manner and willingness to make jokes regardless of the solemnity of any given occasion. He was very popular with the common soldiers as a result. This helped him successfully win their allegiance when Washington fell ill, ensuring that Washington's plan was carried forth as originally planned rather than the deviations suggested by some of the main staff; military historians by and large agree that (based on what we now know of British troop deployment) the deviations would have resulted in large scale battles the Continental Army was ill-equipped to face. It is also agreed that Mr. Rory's skill in artillery (specifically, in the setting of explosions) was invaluable in aiding Washington in winning the war.

Despite his rough manner, few men made the mistake of thinking that Mr. Rory's manner meant that he was stupid, or at least they rarely made it twice. Mr. Rory had an extremely facile brain: slow to stir, but once stirred, fearsome in his intensity. He displayed an advance grasp of mathematics, astronavigation, physics and chemistry on numerous occasions, and although he often forgot common words (a trait commented on by numerous contemporaries, some kindly, others less so, and one which modern historians have suggested to be a form of aphasia), his ability to predict the actions of other people was well recognized as being little short of uncanny. Yet despite clearly being educated in numerous subjects, Mr. Rory refused to explain the nature of his schooling and possessed what all agreed was a common (some even said ill-bred) accent. There were suggestions that he was the illegitimate son of some rich baron, but Mr. Rory's only recorded hint on the subject was to say that his parents were very much married, and that he was the son of a farmer even though he knew nothing of farming himself; this implies some split between his family (of whom he almost never spoke) and him at a young age.

Some hint to Mr. Rory's background can be found in a series of letters from John Adams to his wife, in which he wrote, "that Man which at Regular intervals accompanies the General has Revealed himself a son of the Sea, rather than any Colony; he owns No Land nor Property of his own, but is of Very Great Wealth regardless, owning as he does a chest filled with silver and gold, which Some say is the Lost Treasure of the dreadful pirates that once Ruled the territory of New Providence Island, some Fifty Years ago. Indeed, the Man - who signs as M. Rory and who possesses an Appalling handwriting that speaks of a youthful weakening of the Eye - proudly Proclaims skills which no gentle Man would ever admit. I know this only because it became very Useful when the door to the assembly Hall was inadvertently Locked and we feared we would have Break it in order to Enter once more to Proceed upon our new Nation's business."

By this we can understand a number of the rumors that encircled this mysterious and under-recognized historical figure. Unlike some of the wilder tales concerning some of our other founding fathers (Hamilton's history in the Caribbean, or Lafayette's supposed need to cross-dress to escape France), this story is lent some credence from the fact that Mr. Rory's lock-picking abilities (referred to obliquely by John Adams above, and mentioned repeatedly by his cousin Samuel Adams, another good friend of Mr. Rory) were referenced in numerous sources. He is said to have kept lock-picks in his hat, so as better have access to them whenever he needed them - one source even reported (albeit by hearsay) that he used them to escape when he was at one point captured by the British, after requesting that his hat be returned to him as his final request.

Yet that was not the only suggestion we have of a potentially infamous past. Multiple sources speak admiringly of Mr. Rory's extraordinary talent with firearms. One newspaper at the time referred to him in exalting tones as "He Who Never Misses and Never Misfires!" Indeed, Mr. Rory notoriously kept a pair of dueling pistols from which he could fire very nearly as effectively as a rifle, and which he swore would never misfire. Stories abound of the instance in which Mr. Hamilton impetuously challenged Mr. Rory to a duel, but Mr. Rory first requested that he be permitted to demonstrate his shooting talents, performing such tricks as shooting a moving target and putting out the center of a playing card. This display was so impressive that Mr. Hamilton retracted his challenge at once and the two became fine friends after that point. One source claims that Mr. Rory attributed his skills from having once been in a circus, but no other sources make any such mention and (given the scarcity of circuses as we now know them in that era) no historian has given any credence to such allegations.

We also have some hints of a prior tragedy in Mr. Rory's life. For the short period in which he appears in historical manuscripts, Mr. Rory was never recorded as married. Although he had a reputation as a ladies' man in words - many women would flock to parties in which he was rumored to attend in order to be scandalized by his coarse ideas of what constituted a compliment - Mr. Rory was equally notorious for his lack of affairs, a state which he ascribed to an ongoing state of mourning for a woman called Lenore. The diary of Martha Washington reports that when Mr. Rory became seriously drunk (as opposed to merely mildly intoxicated), he would speak of her as his partner in all things, a brilliant woman with an icy demeanor that perfectly balanced out his own fiery temper, and called her the greatest planner and finest hero he'd ever known. Sadly, Mr. Rory (who many historians believe to have been dyslexic due to the references to the weakness of his eyes accompanied by the fact that no one ever referred to him wearing spectacles) did not keep a diary of his own, so the identity of this romantic Lenore has remained as mysterious as the rest of his past. It is, however, undeniable that Mr. Rory established a reputation as a man who was virtually incorruptible when it came to the approaches of women.

His opinions were no less shockingly modern than his language. Perhaps unsurprisingly given his admiration of his lost Lenore (some historians suggest that Mr. Rory's story, despite the relative anonymity that surrounded him after his death, was the inspiration of Edgar Allen Poe's poem, the Raven, but many others disagree), Mr. Rory's views on women were extremely progressive for his era. He was one of the few men who suggested - quite seriously, by all accounts - that women be given the right to vote, equal to men, and he advocated passionately and successfully for more equal divorce laws and inheritance rights for widows and female children. He also established the first shelter in America explicitly devoted to women suffering from domestic violence and fleeing, sometimes with their children, from their husbands. Although many of his contemporaries objected, arguing that married women were not being abused but merely disciplined, Mr. Rory produced two sets of arguments which in the end permitted his shelter (the Shoshana House, named, he claimed, after the mother of his beloved Lenore, a childhood victim of an abusive father) to flourish. The first argument related to a long-buried reference to the Roman republic, establishing that the tradition of the pater familias was accompanied by a fierce disdain of any many who beat his wife and that such a man was ostracized for his actions - such an argument carried significant weight with many of Mr. Rory's contemporaries, many of whom hoped to model their fledging republic after the great Greek and Roman republics of old. The second argument, although less eloquent, may have also been more immediately effective in preserving his project: when his plans for the building were rebuffed upon revelation, Mr. Rory apparently challenged any who objected to the purpose of his charity to "fight me". Accompanied by Mr. Rory's height, strength, and notorious skill at arms, this may have encouraged people not to object too vociferously to the project, which continued to flourish after his death.

Women's rights were not the only realm in which Mr. Rory was progressive. A landless but wealthy man, with the air of a pirate and the tricks that (to quote John Adams) no gentleman would admit, appearing out of nowhere to save General Washington's life, unsurprisingly caused some consternation among the wealthy landowners of the South - consternation that was only worsened by the fact that from his very first appearance, Mr. Rory was an avid (some say rabid) abolitionist, referring to slavery in a speech transcribed and published by one newspaper as a blot on America's record, an injustice and hypocrisy against the principles that America purported to represent, and likely to be the cause of a terrible cataclysm that would rip the nation in two when the abolitionists and slave-owners finally "had it out", as Mr. Rory colorfully described. This prescient view of the future, sadly, did not convince many at the time, but it is said to be due to Mr. Rory's influence that General Washington freed all his slaves within his own lifetime, rather than at his death as he'd previously planned. Many of the freed slaves continued to work on Washington's home, receiving a wage that they were permitted to use however they saw fit.

Some historians even point to Mr. Rory as the cause of Washington's later split with Jefferson, a slave-owner who favored releasing slaves upon the death of the owner; however, numerous anecdotes suggest that Washington's opposition to Jefferson was ideological, not personal, and would have happened regardless. That being said, Mr. Rory was in fact banned from Monticello after he notoriously called Jefferson a "liver-bellied coward who rapes his dead wife's half-sister and enslaves his children by her to hide the proof", which many historians believe to be the only time Jefferson's association with Sally Hemmings (which many modern day scholars view as rape, rather than a consensual or "mistress" relationship as it was viewed in previous generations) was ever publically called out. Unsurprisingly, Jefferson refused to have anything to do with Mr. Rory after that point, despite their agreement on other points of reform.

One area in which Mr. Rory was particularly involved was his passionate support for the reform of the criminal justice system. Although not all of his ideas were adopted - many of which were deemed so radical that they were censored from publication - he is responsible for ensuring that provisions that preserved the rights of incarcerated individuals, including the right to regular communication (a first amendment right which has since been interpreted as outlawing solitary imprisonment for longer than two weeks) and of appeal. He also championed an early version of the concept of structural inequality, claiming that the protection afforded by the provision of a local twelve-man jury (stalwart of the British system of law) was useless if the selection of the defendants was perverted to begin with. The inclusion of the phrase "or prosecution" in the Fourth Amendment outlawing "cruel and unusual punishment" is popularly ascribed to Mr. Rory; the phrase lay dormant for centuries, only to be seized upon by the Warren Court in the civil rights era as the vehicle to defeat racial bias in prosecutorial discretion and, more recently, as a vehicle to implement protections against systematic discrimination in the prison system and gerrymandering generally.

Aside from his often controversial political views, Mr. Rory was often noted to have a convivial and charming personality, despite his occasional bouts of moodiness and depression, and also despite a temper that could reliably be roused against individuals who irritated him - luckily for those around him, that temper was easily restrained by someone he trusted, usually Washington, keeping a level head. Though when Washington was truly incensed, Mr. Rory's fury was well-nigh unstoppable.

Last, but certainly not least, Mr. Rory had one particularly notable characteristic: he was a pyromaniac. Although it was not characterized as such at the time, the medical term not yet being coined, Mr. Rory's tendency to dissociate while staring at flames was widely noted, and he often lit candles or matches even during the day - an eccentricity that, if not for his great wealth, might have been ruinously expensive. He notoriously torched a number of British forts during the war and some of his critics snidely accused him of various arsons thereafter, accusations that never failed to amuse him - though they had a tendency to enrage his host.

His host, of course, being his good friend George Washington, his eternal advocate and close friend - and, to everyone's amusement, the man whom Mr. Rory never failingly referred to as "Georgie", no matter how solemn the situation. Several records of Washington's inauguration indicate that shortly after the solemn ceremony was done, Mr. Rory slapped Washington on the back and proclaimed, "I told ya you could do it, Georgie!", and this was not the only such incident. Mr. Rory first appeared, as we have said, in the crossing of the Delaware and remained a close confidant of Washington thereafter, Washington stating on a number of occasion that Mr. Rory had saved his life and had given him a good tongue-lashing about not letting cultural preconceptions get in the way of victory at the same time. Mr. Rory was separated from Washington a few times, when he led bands of his own - he preferred covert missions with small teams to leading his own squadron, as his colleague Hamilton longed to do - but after the end of the war, Washington invited him to stay with him at Mount Vernon, and Mr. Rory did so.

Once at Mount Vernon, Mr. Rory made several investments in land and stock which turned out quite well for him, as well as a surprisingly series of victories at the Newmarket Courses, the oldest of the new nation's horse racing tracks. His wealth, so supplemented, was spent primarily on charitable acts thereafter - the aforementioned shelter for women and children, several schools of fine quality that accepted only orphans and other impoverished children, and so on. Interestingly enough, he gave almost none of his wealth to the church, refusing to identify which denomination he belong - stating only that the God he believed in was good enough to share and share alike, leading to suppositions that he was a Quaker or a Lutheran, or possibly some other sect. One historian has proposed that as a pyromaniac, Mr. Rory might have developed a personal spiritualism set around fire, which would match certain of his statements, but this theory has not 'caught fire' with certain historians.

Little is know of his interactions at the Constitutional Convention, there at Washington's side as always, other than what has already been discussed, but he was an avid Federalist who blasted Jefferson's Republicans as longing to return the nation to an agrarian paradise that had never existed. He also strongly supported Hamilton's proposal of a national bank, although (perhaps strangely) he did support the location of the new capital on the Potomac instead of in a northern city. His comment, made to a local newspaper, at the time of the selection of the plot of what would later be called Washington D.C. was that it was only fitting that "the Swamp of Politics should be given a Swamp of Its Own."

Of his later years, little has been said. Mr. Rory retained his extraordinary vitality and health, hardly even seeming to age, and he continued to pick fights like a common sailor in the dockyard taverns long after he had been recognized as a great man and his portrait painted, to have a place of honor at Mount Vernon. He stood by Washington through the Revolutionary War, and again during the Whiskey Rebellion. No cause of death has ever been identified, although one very strange story appears in the diary of Martha Washington.

She writes that in 1797, shortly after Washington's retirement to Mount Vernon, a retirement which Mr. Rory - ever loyal - joined and even assisted in preparing for by helping set up a distillery on Mount Vernon, the first batch of spirits being produced in February of that year, Mr. Rory began to act increasingly unusually. He would often sit alone; this was not unusual during his depressive periods, but was now accompanied by an aggressive desire for privacy. He also developed a habit of speaking to the air as though carrying on a conversation. He became excited and enthusiastic in a way which Washington commented he had never seen before despite their friendship of now over twenty years running.

And then, Martha records, one day he came out from his room with tears of joy in his eyes, grasping Washington by the hands and telling him that his "Lenny" (undoubtedly a reference to his much-beloved Lenore) was coming to fetch him and insisting he had always known that death would be no impediment to their partnership. The Washingtons naturally became extremely concerned, particularly as in regards to Mr. Rory's mental state, but Mr. Rory assured him that he was very happy to be going and would hear no word against it. He then proceeded to pack up his most precious belongings, distributed the remainder, embraced Washington and wished him well, and then walked out of Mount Vernon for the last time. He was never seen again thereafter, not in any historical record that we have been able to locate.

With that fascinating exit - one of which has launched a dozen ghost stories, with locals claiming that they could on dark nights still see a big man and an equally tall woman, almost mannish in her slenderness, walk hand-in-hand into the sky and disappear into a shower of blue sparks - Mick Rory walks out of the narrative, on his own terms, just as he had every other aspect of his life.

His statute still stands in Washington D.C. today, and although he is one of our lesser known Founding Fathers, never having held formal political office, it is my belief that this man has had tremendous impact on the shape of our nation -

('The Stalwart: The Strange Life of Mick Rory, Washington's Best Friend', a thesis paper by F. Smoak, Starling State University)

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"Oh my god, we've ruined history," Nate moans.

"You're kidding, right?" Jax says. "This is awesome."

"He changed the Constitution, Jax!" Sara hisses. "He knew he was supposed to lay low and he changed. The. Constitution!"

"Yeah, for the better," Jax shoots back. "So what's the big deal?"

"I must admit the anti-gerrymandering laws seem very useful," Stein says.

"Plus the systemic bias in prisons thing!"

"Guys!" Sara holds up her hands. "We're supposed to keep the timeline intact, remember?"

"We were originally recruited to help Rip change the timeline by killing Savage before his family died," Jax replies, unimpressed. "Remember?"

Sara pauses. "Well, yeah, I mean, I guess..."

"I can't believe I'm friends with a Founding Father!" Ray says cheerfully, not for the first time. "This is so cool!"

"They're just men," Amaya reminds him, also not for the first time, but she's smiling over at the corner where Mick and the now-resurrected Leonard Snart are talking, still hand-in-hand and each refusing to let go.

"Twenty years," Mick is saying.

"You did good," Len replies, shaking his head. "Besides, it gave you time to work out the remainder of that brainwashing from the Time Masters, didn't it?"

"Twenty. Goddamn. Years. Lenny. If my exposure to the Oculus during my time as a bounty hunter hadn't had those side effects about my aging - or lack thereof - then -"

"Yeah, well, it did. As it did to me."

Mick snorts. "Still, twenty years..."

"Hey," Len says. "I told you I was always coming back for you. I never said when."

"Asshole."

"Pyro."

"Thief."

"Husband."

"Ghost."

"Founding Father."

Mick grins. "Okay," he says. "Guilty on all counts."