#i saw a fire hydrant that looked like a dog from far away and i was so confused on why thjs dog was standin by the road without its owner

[angelyuji]

If you could, How would step bro peter react to the reader being just as crazy (if not more) than him? Love your writing btw!! ❤️🕷️

18+!!!!!! minors dni!!!!!

i mean…. if ur just as into him as he is to you, he’s definitely going to start pushing more boundaries to see what else you’re going to allow.

may had very excitedly called a family movie night to “bring you two closer together”. she put you and peter together on the love seat as her and your father shared the couch. “its a new thing i read about in that parenting book. i dont have a tshirt that would fit the two of you, sooo (y/n) and peter sit on the love seat together.” she smiled.

peter shifts beside you, tangling your legs closer together under the blanket. you take your eyes off the movie to shoot him a glare. you whisper into his ear, “theres already no space, jerk, stop moving around. peter wiggles around more and elbows your side, hearing your complaint. you huff in pain, muttering another insult.

“just sit on my lap, then we’ll both have space.” peter whispers back. you raise an eyebrow. he smiles innocently. you glance over at may and your dad, their full attention was on the movie and away from the two of you.

“if you say so.” you whisper back, peter’s eyebrows furrow at your tone. as quietly as possible, you shift yourself onto peter’s lap without moving the blanket too much. you shift around on his lap and peter’s hands grip your waist. you could feel him getting hard as your warmth grinds down on him.

“what are you doing?” peter’s voice was gruff. his hands move down your waist to your thighs.

you lean back and rest your head on his shoulder, “i’m just getting comfortable.”

so yeah if ur into the same freak nasty stuff as him, he’s literally never gonna keep his hands off you. you guys are only going to fuck around in secret of course. may and your dad or mom or ur whoever canNOT find out.

[michelangelinden]

hii hello i have a winter prompt from the list!! i’m so curious what you’d write for number 16 with willie - i can totally picture them being on either side of that scenario lol. hope you’re having a good winter/holiday season✨

Hehe, great choice!!

Here is 16. You caught me building a snowman over a fire hydrant because some jerk keeps plowing them down with his car and you decided to help with Willie, and also Alex for you <33 (but like, from the other perspective)

The prompt is from this list by @innytoes! Thank you @legolasghosty for beta reading

Willex. 1.7k words. rated T (for swearing). Warning: cop mention (but in a humorous context).

As soon as Willie steps onto the part of the sidewalk that is no longer frozen over and slippery, he breaks out into a run. Beanie next to him quickly realizes what’s happening and joins him, leaning forward as she speeds up next to him on all four legs, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

“Yes, let’s go!” Willie almost shouts, her leash gripped tightly in his hand. Their steps are careful, even though the walkway has enough grip for them to run, but he still feels his chest start to glow with carefreeness at running through the cold like this, their dog at their side.

Beanie barks excitedly.

“I agree!” Willie giggles before slowing down when he sees the end of the path, sadly leading into a snowed over part of the sidewalk. He’s breathing heavily and so is Beanie as she bounces around them, still full of energy. They wish they could’ve taken her to the meadow, but he was scared of anything sharp hiding under the snow. So a long walk around the neighborhood had to be enough.

Once he’s caught his breath, he finally takes in the surroundings a bit better, and their eyes fall on a figure not too far away, crouched on the ground, building a snowman at the edge of the sidewalk—right where Willie knows there is supposed to be a fire hydrant.

They can’t help but let out a short laugh. The action is so vile, hiding a fire hydrant inside a snowman, but the guy building it looks to be around Willie’s age and like he’s on a mission, so it seems unlikely he’s just doing it for an ill prank. Curiosity gets the better of him.

Their shoes crunch satisfyingly in the snow when Willie and Beanie approach the guy, and it’s loud enough to announce their presence. The guy looks up, eyes landing on Beanie first, then traveling higher until they catch Willie’s. Willie is momentarily distracted by how adorable he looks, cheeks and nose flushed pink from the cold, blond hair sticking out underneath a light blue knitted hat, matching the light blue scarf around his neck. They half expect him to be wearing matching mittens as well, but his hands, currently glued to the snowman, are bare, equally, if not more pink than his face.

“Hi,” Willie says lamely when he comes to a stop in front of him.

“Hello,” the guy responds, but he sounds a bit unsure. It’s fair, Willie thinks, they just approached him out of nowhere. He has to say though, the confusion looks cute too.

Willie nods at the snowman. “What are you doing?”

The guy blinks at him. He looks at the snowman, then back at Willie. “Building—a snowman?”

That—yeah, fine, Willie walked into that. “Around a fire hydrant?”

The guy’s eyes widen, realizing he’s been caught, and he squares his shoulders. Then he narrows his eyes just the tiniest bit. “Are you a cop?”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Willie. “No,” he says, shaking his head with a grin, “not a cop, just walking my dog.” They lift the leash still in their hand and Beanie perks up at the movement. “I’m on my way back and saw you and got curious, that’s all.”

The guy’s eyes fall back onto Beanie, obediently sitting at Willie’s side with her eyes round and patient, and his gaze softens. Willie shifts, drawing his attention away from the dog and back on them.

“Any reason you’re building your snowman around a fire hydrant? Or—just felt like up for some mayhem?” Willie asks, amusement still clear in his voice.

The guy sighs. He brushes his hands dry on his thighs and then finally gets up, standing opposite Willie. He’s taller than them, shoulders broad in his wool-lined denim jacket, but stands hunched in on himself enough for the height difference to be barely noticeable. Willie finds himself wondering if it comes from insecurities or from having shorter friends.

“There’s this guy who keeps plowing over snowmen the kids in the neighborhood are building,” he explains.

Willie pulls a face. “What a jerk.”

The guy—Willie’s guy—nods firmly. “Right? What a jerk.” He huffs. “Me and my friend’s little brother wanted to put a stop to it by, yeah, doing this, but he bailed on me last minute.”

“Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman,” Willie comments, “stopping the bad guys one snowman at a time.”

It causes a chuckle to fall from the guy’s lips and his chin drops to his chest. When he looks up again, his eyes meet Willie’s, and Willie can’t help but feel a little bit of giddy excitement bubble up in his chest.

“If you want to call it that, I guess, yeah.” He lifts a hand to run it through his hair, Willie assumes, but stops short when he remembers he’s wearing a hat. He pats it a little awkwardly.

“Want some help?” Willie asks. So far the snowman is not more than a big lump of snow. Recognizable as a work-in-progress, but probably not attractive enough to plow it over with a car.

The guy looks a little unsure, Willie almost wants to take his offer back, but then he nods. “Yeah, why not. Then we might get it done before he comes back and notices the plan. Thank you.”

Willie smiles at him. “Of course. Can’t have him getting away with being a jerk.” This time they share a quick chuckle.

Willie secures Beanie’s leash around a street lamp. He doubts she’d make a run for it, but he doesn’t want to risk it, and he also doesn’t want her to accidentally ruin their work by being excited. She whines sadly at being so far away from them, even though it’s only a few yards really, but Willie kisses her head and promises to be back soon.

“What’s your dog’s name?” the guy asks once they start to get to work. He plops the head on top of the snow lump and Willie begins to connect the two elements with more snow.

“Green Bean,” He responds. He notices her perking up again at the mention of her name.

The guy frowns. “Your dog is called Green Bean?”

Willie chuckles. While that’s the usual reaction they get, they hadn’t expected the guy to ask so outright, seeming too anxious for that, but it’s almost like he couldn’t help it.

“Yep, Green Bean. Beanie for short.”

“…why?”

Willie smiles. “Cause she’s the cutest bean out there.” The guy stares at him blankly at the joke. “Also goes with my cat’s name, ‘Zucchini’.”

Now the guy sputters out a laugh. “Sure, a dog called Green Bean and a cat called Zucchini.” He looks over at Beanie, grin still bright on his face. “That’s actually really cute.”

“Thanks,” Willie says proudly.

The guy seems to hesitate, then opens his mouth again. “My parents have a cat called ‘Balthazar’ but he hates me, has tried to bite me too many times.”

Willie sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Ouch, that sucks.”

The guy shrugs, adding another wad of snow to the top of their snowman’s head. “I just avoided him as best as I could.”

“Valid.” Willie nods. “Are you from around the neighborhood?” Willie asks. He pokes a hole into the head to push in the carrot the guy has brought as a nose. “I’ve never seen you around.”

The guy swallows awkwardly. “I only recently moved here.”

“Oh, nice!” Willie is quick to say, not allowing anyone to feel awkward. “Where do you live?” He quickly wonders if that is a weird question to ask a stranger, but they’re clearly the same age, and if he only just moved here, the guy could probably use a friend.

The guy straightens up and turns into a different direction. “Over there, the house with the garage,” he says.

Willie frowns. “Huh? Did the Molina’s move away? I swear I saw them just yesterday.” He can’t have moved here yesterday, right?

“No, uh,” the guy continues, “they still live there.” He pauses, looking back over at Willie. “I live with them now.”

Willie allows the statement to settle for a moment. The guy doesn’t look Latino in the slightest, so unless he’s very white passing, Willie does not assume him to be a cousin. And although they’re still curious—people are never not curious, it’s only human—they just nod.

“That’s cool, they’re so nice,” he says in response. “I used to go to school with Julie actually, but I graduated in summer. Now I’m just working at the cinema,” they just continue, hoping it’ll show him that Willie is not going to pry more information out of him.

It works. “They’re really great,” he says, now smiling softly. “I go to school with Julie now, but I only transferred there this year.”

Willie smiles back. “We just missed each other then.”

The guy blushes a little. “We did, yeah.”

There’s a small silence between them where their eyes scurry over each other, both too anxious to meet the other’s gaze. Eventually, Willie decides to take the initiative.

“I’m Willie, by the way,” he says.

The corner of the guy’s mouth twitches up. “Alex,” he responds.

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Alex,” Willie says. He hesitates for a second, then decides to fuck it, and go for it. “If you ever need someone to show you around, let me know.” He mentally reels back as quickly as that offer left his lips. “Uh, I mean, if you’re with Julie, then she can probably—you probably already know your way around.” He pauses, now flustered, staring at Alex. “Sorry.”

Alex stares back for a second, then his mouth twists into a small smile and he looks to the ground again. If his cheeks weren’t already pink from the cold, Willie would think he is blushing.

“I do, kinda,” he agrees with Willie’s last statement, and Willie feels his stomach sink. “But, uh, if you want, when we’re done with the jerk-trap, we could go and get a hot chocolate at the café. Warm our fingers and stuff.” Now Willie definitely thinks he’s blushing. But so are they.

“I’d enjoy that,” they respond easily. The warm flutter in his chest is back and it’s making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling so wide his cheeks would hurt.

“Cool,” Alex says. He jerks a thumb towards the snowman. “We should, uh…”

“Yep,” Willie agrees.

They both crouch down to get back to work, finishing the last touches of their—

“What did you call our snowman?”

Alex snorts. “Jerk-trap.”

Willie laughs. “Perfect name.”

[lyraparadigm]

Never Have I Ever...One Shots S2 & Beyond

Fanfic on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32770339/chapters/81307000

(More chapters in the link)

 Chapter 1: Never Have I Ever...Done Well In School

It felt good to do well in school. Paxton missed feeling accomplished. Ever since he broke his arm and couldn’t swim, he felt like there was a void in his chest..something he couldn’t quite pin point till this very day. Seeing his classmates clap for him at the end of his extra credit presentation felt good - like a few months ago when he was still on the swim team and breaking records. To top it off, Ojichan was there and now he couldn’t stop praising Paxton at dinner with Mom, Dad and Rebecca. Paxton couldn’t help the dopey grin that overtook his face when Ojichan asked what inspired him to step out of his comfort zone. Devi. He wasn’t gonna say that though.

“I just wanted to go above and beyond in school.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his face still split in a grin. 

Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself and mumbled under his breath, “I wanted to swim to San Diego.”

“Huh?” Rebecca asked, ever observant and Paxton, try as he might, couldn’t keep that damn grin off his face.

“Well, whatever it was, i’m proud of you Paxton. Thank you for convincing me to tell my story. It was the right thing to do.” Ojichan’s admission meant everything to Paxton and as he walked back to the garage after dinner, to play Call of Duty, it struck him that this wasn’t really what he wanted to be doing. 

Without much thought, he grabbed his keys and was on his way to Devi Vishwakumar’s house. The closer her got to her home, the louder he could hear his heart beat. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he felt like he was about to compete at a swim meet, or maybe sit in that Facing History test for the first time again.And then the insecurity set in… what if Devi was still into Ben? But that couldn’t be, right? Ben was with Aneesa and Devi was pretty chill with that. Her crying the other day has nothing to do with Ben. It was to do with her friends and he fixed that…he made her smile… so maybe…He shook himself free of those thoughts as he parked on her street by the fire hydrant so Dr. Vishwakumar wouldn’t be able to see him. He wasn’t gonna make that mistake again. Besides, it was just going to be a quick in and out. He just needed to say thank you to Devi. No need to knock on her door and meet her mom. He was just going to…what, throw rocks at her window? That was cheesy as hell and Paxton didn’t do cheese. 

He licked his lips, frowning as he realised it was raining. How had he not realised this before?!  Well, he was outside her house now…and the longer he dithered, the more soaked he was getting. Grunting, he started climbing the tree outside Devi’s house. He had never done this before. He usually just knocked on the front door or invited the girl around. Damn Paxton, just get a grip.He was on the roof now and her bedroom light was on and she was…she was sat there in these cute pjs that somehow did a great job at outlining her figure despite completely covering her. Her window was open, so he could just climb in… he blinked sheepishly…maybe he should text her before he did that. That’d be the polite thing to do. 

He watched like a total creep as she responded to his ‘what r u doing’ text.‘U want company?’ He had barely finished hitting send before he knocked. She was so goddamn cute - no. He was just here to thank her. Right. He climbed in as she got off her bed and approached him.

“Paxton…”

He breathed out a laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation.

“You’re in my house…” she appeared utterly confused, her brows furrowing adorably.

He laughed, a little shy, a little nervous, “Yeah…I guess so”His palms felt clammy all of a sudden and he could feel every drop of rain seeping into his skin through his shirt. His hair must have been a mess but he was just going to start talking anyway.

“Look I just wanted to say thank you for all your help.” His eyes could help but stray down her form quickly, “It felt so good to finally do something well in school” and he noticed her eyes drift too, though her gaze was far more obvious than his had ever been. And it struck him suddenly. There was never any hiding with Devi. She always just did what she wanted, when she wanted - like that time she propositioned him for sex despite having never spoken to him before, or when she manipulated Mr. Shapiro into giving Paxton a second chance at that Facing history test.So maybe it was time Paxton did what he wanted too.

“So…are you here to study…or….” The anticipation in her voice did things to him. Devi always had a way of looking or talking to him like she couldn’t quite believe he was talking back or looking at her or..well, now he was about to wipe that look off her face.

“No” he shook his head, closing the distance between them, barely giving her a chance to adjust, barely giving himself a chance to change his mind. His hand was in her hair, his gaze flickered down past her nose ring to her lips while he released a slow breath. This was happening. His eyes met hers for a moment before he closed them and leaned forwards, his lips pressing against hers in the softest of kisses that somehow felt different than any other kiss he had given her before. 

And then all bets were off; one hand wedged firmly in her hair, the other rose to grasp her waist as his lips moved sensually over hers and before he realised, he was backing her towards her bed. She didn’t seem opposed to any of it, her own hands gripping his forearms to start with, then grazing his arms before settling on his chest.He crawled on top of her bed, his lips never leaving hers for long as they adjusted so they were lying on their sides, kissing each other languidly. 

Soft kisses, open mouthed kisses, lingering ones, breathy ones…he could spend hours just learning her mouth and all the little hitches in her breath when he switched up the pace, or pressed his tongue against the seem of her lips. Then her leg forced its way between his and his brain short circuited a little. He didn’t think it was intentional, he didn’t really think she realised that her thigh was now pressed firmly against his… she seemed too absorbed in kissing him, her hands wading through his hair, nails scratching his scalp and making him shiver. ‘I don’t kiss guys often, Paxton!’ He remembered her admission weeks ago… for someone inexperienced, she sure was good at making him breathless. And to think he thought this would just be a quick visit. He was careful to not push. His hands stayed at her waist mostly, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her lower back. Occasionally his lips would drift to her jaw and kiss the spot below her ear. That drew a breathy sigh out of her that sent a heat wave up his spine. His lips returned to kissing hers, not wanting to get carried away, not wanting to push.

“Paxton?” she mumbled as they parted for breath, noses rubbing against each others. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she asked, “this isn’t a dream right? I’ve not just fallen asleep on my math homework? Am I drooling?”

He chuckled, cheeks blushing a little in embarrassment. There was a lot to unpack here - she dreamed of him apparently and God she was adorable.“This is real”, the words were barely out of his mouth before she lunged the already short distance between them and started kissing him once more. They must have been at it for at least an hour, he surmised, based on how uncomfortably tight his jeans were getting. He rolled onto his back to cool off, grinning dopily at the puppy dog frown on her face. She settled on her back too and they both stared at the ceiling, catching their breath.

“Did you talk to your Mom? You know.. after you saw her in the Maybach”Her brows furrowed again and her fists clenched. It always fascinated him how quickly her temper flared. The first time he took notice of her wasn’t when she asked him for sex, it was when she said something about Nazis killing Ben Gross. He had been surprised a nerd like her had the balls to say something like that in class and get sent to the Principal’s office.

“I just feel like she’s moving on so quick  - it’s not even been a year since my dad died” Devi huffed and Paxton turned to face her. 

He picked up an errant strand of hair and curled it around his finger, “Maybe you should talk to her?”

“I yelled at her already and now I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to talk about this.”

He nodded. He didn’t know what to say. Devi’s life was intense with a lot more drama than he was used to. He called her crazy once, with her ‘psycho’ drama. He cringed a little at that. It did nothing to ease his hurt when he said it then and it wasn’t doing much else but deepen his guilt now. So instead of saying anything at all, he let his fingers drift from her hair to brush against her nose ring and then against her lips. 

He felt a flutter in his stomach on seeing her anger melt off her face..like he was the only one that could do that… just like when he made her smile after her face was all puffy from crying about Eleanor. ‘Swim to San Diego’ seemed to be echoing in his mind a lot lately, especially whenever he gazed into her eyes. Her eyes. Had they always been this pretty? He grinned at his own thoughts now and it grew further when she matched his smile. He sighed against her lips, unable to keep away for long. His lips hovered against hers, never quite touching, just teasing…till she let out a grunt of frustration, much to his amusement, and reached forwards to mash their lips together. It was clumsy at first and he let out a groan as her teeth nicked his lips but his laughter died down when she snuck her leg between his again and then a different sort of groan left his mouth.

“Devi,” he breathed, pulling away from her and enjoying seeing that dazed look on her face he was so familiar with. His shirt was fully dry now and he figured it was time to stop pushing his luck. He shuddered to think what Dr. Vishwakumar would do if she caught him in her daughter’s bed.

“I’ve gotta go,” he pressed a quick kiss to Devi’s lips and she squeezed his hand in response. Walking to the window and ducking out, he found he was unable to leave without kissing her goodbye.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” he spoke gently against her lips and yep, there it was, that look on her face that made his stomach feel giddy. She looked at him like he had hung the moon and it was hella endearing.It had him grinning all the way back down to her front lawn and to the short walk to his jeep.Yeah this was definitely not a quick visit.Swim to San Diego indeed. 

[rayne-storm]

AUgust 5 - Science Fiction

Cooking With Crewmates - Hannigram & Among Us

This is some violent self-indulgent garbage, and also by far the longest thing I've written for AUgust so far, and I've had to edit this intro to fit the Tumbl's block limit. Contains violence and gore inherent in the fandoms. Possibly extraordinarily ooc. No beta, we die like men.

William Graham had not always wanted to do space things. In fact, if you had asked him ten years earlier if he would ever want to do anything on a space station, he would have flipped you off and run the other direction. He hated being cramped up. He hated not having control of his immediate situation. He would never describe himself as "works well with others" in any capacity.

Yet there he was.

In a fucking tin can in space. With a horrible murderer loose.

Fuck.

And all he could do was grumble as he went about his day, desperately trying to repair a rapidly failing piece of garbage, trying to avoid air vents and being followed anywhere.

His antisocial tendencies had never come so in handy.

There was one member of the team, however, that seemed determined to undermine his self-imposed Exile. The ship's cook and doctor (everyone tried to do double-duty where they could) Hannibal Lecter seemed hellbent on following him everywhere, and it would have been cute if it weren't so frustrating.

The other man wore bright red, with (of all damn things) a chef's hat on top of his helmet. He stood out, in every way possible. Admittedly, Will's little clip-on dog ears weren't the most subtle of accessories, but at least he was a solid color and could blend into shadows if he so wished. Like a ninja. Not like a fire engine.

But it was sweet, kind of, how insistent the older man was that he be with Will so often. He seemed to get his tasks done quickly, and his cooking really was delicious. It was enough, almost, to make Will forget there was a gruesome murderer on the loose.

Almost.

The first time he saw a dead body was back on Earth. He had, for a time, worked with the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit. He had a sort of "superpower" to be able to get into people's heads, hyper-empathy they called it. He could still remember that first case. It didn't haunt him like it used to, but it was there, the first in a file-folder in his mind that he kept locked tight until he had space to process the things inside.

The things he had seen on this ship were leagues beyond the worst cases on Earth. These bodies weren't just dismembered, they were ripped apart, like they had encountered some kind of… well, creature. Whatever had done the things he was seeing wasn't human. It simply wasn't possible.

He had to reevaluate a lot of personal beliefs very quickly.

The crew eventually came to the conclusion that whatever was doing this to their members was hiding Among Them. They decided on the moniker of "imposter" for the thing.

Now to figure out who it was.

Will had his suspicions. Of everyone, unfortunately. But suspicion kept him alive on Earth, it would work alright here too. Especially as there were fewer and fewer people left.

Will imagined how it would go, if he were face to face with whatever had been destroying their Crewmates. He never came out alive. Best-case was he would airlock it and shoot it into space. Like they had done to several people already (he had refused to participate).

Curiously, Hannibal had also refused to vote, or participate in the discussion. Will wondered if it had anything to do with the Hippocratic Oath, or just personal morals. The strange thing was that the doctor didn't get nearly as much protest against his refusal to participate in these death sentences as Will did. Something about the man radiated this calm, cool authority that Will guessed people just accepted.

Whatever the case, he supposed it didn't hurt that the man was seemingly always on his side.

"They condemn you because they do not understand," Doctor Lecter had murmured to him one evening as another crewmate was launched into the cold void of space.

"Don't understand what?"

"You feel their pain as if you were the one out there, freezing and choking."

Will looked down, shaking his head. He knew that in the empty vacuum of space, ship walls between them, he couldn't really hear the screams, but he felt his ears ring all the same.

"Who are we to play God?"

"I think God must be laughing at this. He kills all the time, and are we not created in His image?"

Will felt a shudder ripple through him. Whether fear or something else entirely he wasn't certain.

He knew he was in trouble, falling way too hard for this mysterious doctor chef. It was ridiculous, frankly, to have even remotely romantic feelings for a fire-hydrant in a chef's hat, but here he was. He wondered numbly if Hannibal had any sort of reciprocity, feeling something for the little edgelord wolf boy Will was dressed up as.

He didn't have to wonder long.

He was in his private quarters after a long day of doing medical scans and fixing wires (reminding him so much of his former hobby of tying his own fly-fishing lures), and was halfway out of his suit when there was a knock at the door.

He debated putting the bulky gear back on, but chose against it, instead walking to the door and opening the little peephole.

It was… an extremely handsome man, in a tweed suit of all things. Will realized immediately who it was when he saw the gorgeous dish of food the man was carrying.

"Doctor Lecter?"

"Please, just Hannibal. We are friends, are we not?"

Will couldn't help but smile. Yes, somehow, despite everything, they were friends. Possibly more?

Will opened the door, stepping back, and he realized that they had never actually seen each other before, without the privacy afforded to them by their suits.

Hannibal was so much more than a red space man with (again) a comical hat. He was slender, and older than Will had initially anticipated. His hair was combed back neatly, and his gorgeous cheekbones looked like they could cut glass. His eyes were just as lovely, and Will realized he was staring only as he became aware Hannibal was as well.

Will wondered what the other man thought of him beneath the wolf ears. He knew he was scruffy and unkempt, far more so now in front of this immaculately groomed man. But Hannibal was looking at him like he was something… beautiful. He felt himself blushing.

Hannibal caught himself and smiled, glancing down as he stepped inside the room. He set the food down on the little table in the room, and Will shut the door behind him.

Hannibal took some cutlery from an inside jacket pocket, setting it down on either side of the dish.

"I didn't see you at dinner tonight, and I thought it might be kind to bring you some food myself."

Will smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Thank you. That is very considerate. It looks and smells amazing."

He sat carefully, wary that he still had his suspenders that attached his suit bottoms to him. He was rather mismatched. But Hannibal didn't seem to care.

He sniffed the meal experimentally, it was some type of meats and noodles in a thick dark sauce.

"What culinary delight have you served me tonight, doc- Hannibal?"

Will caught the little grin that the other man tried to stifle at the mention of his name.

"Teriyaki udon. With blackened chicken."

Will nodded.

"Will you partake as well, or..?"

"Oh, no, I ate earlier. Please, feel free."

Will nodded again, taking a cautious bite.

It was amazing, like everything the man cooked.

He couldn't suppress a small groan of delight, and he didn't mess the slight shiver that seemed to run down Hannibal's body. Interesting…

He devoured the meal, though he did try to at least remember his table manners. He felt embarrassed, honestly, but Hannibal looked so damn happy.

"I am so glad you like it," Hannibal murmured with a smile, packing the container and cutlery away.

"And, I must say, you are… exquisite. If we survive this ordeal, would… could…" he paused, glancing down, and Will felt jitters.

"I would, yes," he answered.

Hannibal blushed - blushed! - and smiled.

"That… makes me extraordinarily happy. Thank you, Will, I… I am so glad I have met you."

Will smiled and nodded. "I am too."

Hannibal ducked his head and waved as he stepped back out into the ship.

Will couldn't help smiling as he watched the man walk away.

--

This became their routine. A break from the monotony of every day, both the anxiety and the boredom. Will felt himself growing ever more attached to his companion, and found that he no longer disliked the doctor's seeming constant desire to be nearby as Will worked. In fact, Will would sometimes speed through his other tasks just to be able to meet Hannibal in Medbay as Hannibal finished his work.

Their evenings were spent together usually with Will eating something amazing Hannibal prepared, the other abstaining due to having eaten already. That was fine. They were together, talking about everything and nothing, confiding secrets. Will told Hannibal about his panic attacks, about how he couldn't work on Earth at the BAU because he felt himself becoming some kind of monster.

Hannibal in turn revealed his own tragic childhood, and confided that the Imposter (and subsequent hunts and ejection) made him uneasy enough to keep a knife on his personal at all times. His left rear pocket, he said, "in case something happens."

They tried to avoid that sort of talk, though. It just led to somber silences.

Mostly, Will enjoyed talking about folklore and food. Two universals of humanity. Hannibal had rich tapestries of experience in both, and Will was content to listen to his companion speak for hours on end, well into the night.

Will wondered, sometimes, when Hannibal walked back to his own quarters, what would happen if Will asked him to stay. To just… be with him, through the night. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He wondered what would happen if they survived this. What would happen if it came down to just themselves and the monster hiding in the ship.

Will knew, without a doubt now, he would die for Hannibal.

It didn't matter if that wasn't reciprocal.

--

One evening, they were down to six, and Will and Hannibal were having dinner (Will was eating, Hannibal talking). There was a knock at the door and Hannibal frowned as he stood to see who it was. He didn't make it to the door when it was forced open and their three remaining Crewmates were there, running in and seizing Will.

"It's you!" Pink screamed.

Will looked around, confused and terrified as hands grabbed at him, dragging him literally kicking and screaming from his own room.

"What?! What's- hey! Stop-!"

The crew didn't pause as they dragged him out, one staying by to keep Hannibal from following.

"We always knew you were a creepy little freak, but damn, Graham, I can't believe we've been so blind."

"It's not me! What the fuck?!"

"It has to be you. You and the Doc were the only two missing when we found the body, and we all know it's not him."

Will tried to process everything happening. He counted, there were only three people surrounding him and Hannibal, who was still shouting (he had never seen the man so upset, so animated), and it clicked.

It was Hannibal.

All this time, the man he was falling for was the monster he was afraid of.

He felt like the realization should have hit harder, should have hurt more, but…

Well it didn't really change much, now.

Hannibal was still the only one who had shown him a shred of decency. Hannibal listened to him, consoled him, cooked for him… cared for him.

Will felt everything move in slow motion. He met Hannibal's eyes. He saw the fear there, of what he couldn't be certain.

He felt a wave of calm come over him. All of this proof, and the crew still had not put it together (he, at least, had been blinded by affection and antisocial tendencies). Hannibal would almost certainly win this morbid game.

He didn't expect Hannibal to go full monster.

His jaw unhinged like a snake's, and his nails became claws, and there was just a pile of meat where the crewman holding him back once had been.

Everything stopped. The pair holding him let go and Will fell to the floor with a sharp cry, the air leaving his lungs all at once. He tried to catch his breath as Hannibal turned to the Crewmates. Will saw how terribly inhuman he seemed, even without the snake-jaw and claws, in the cold light in his eyes, the hard line of his mouth, the fury that Will could tell was bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You!!"

Will wheezed a chuckle. It was so obvious now to him. How Hannibal had almost always just "eaten," how he had so much knowledge about so many things, how he seemed to finish his tasks so quickly. He had attached himself to Will, who protested the ejections, who never noticed whether Hannibal could complete their tasks or not…

Will had to wonder if any of it was real. If he fell in love with a monster incapable of returning his feelings. It had felt real, had felt mutual, he knew he had seen affection in the man's eyes as they talked.

Maybe Hannibal could fake it. But it had been real enough for Will, realer than the simpering cowards who were rapidly backing away, cowering behind Will. As he got to his feet, one shoved him back down, towards Hannibal. Hannibal glanced down at him, worry briefly passing through his gaze as he continued to walk towards the pair of fools.

Will panted, slowly working his way back up to his feet, leaning against a wall. Hannibal stalked towards his prey, and Will was surprised at his own feelings of vicious satisfaction.

They deserved this. They deserved to suffer for all the lives they'd taken in their squabbling.

Hannibal reached towards the pair, a thick black… something… stretching from his hand and wrapping it around the pink crewmate. It squeezed, and with a sickening crunch, that crewmate was no more.

Will staggered towards the action, and saw the remaining figure pulling their gun up, aiming at Hannibal, still busy mutilating the pink body.

Time slowed down for Will. He ran, as fast as he could, reaching for Hannibal.

Back right pocket.

He felt the knife in Hannibal's pocket, gripping it as he felt himself fall, then what his brain could only describe as a chair leg punching through his chest. He gripped the knife as he lay on the ground, and while Hannibal had his attention torn between the crewmate and himself, Will threw the knife.

He hoped that his sense of aim was at least passible and as he felt himself starting to black out, all he could think was that he had been right.

He would die for Hannibal.

--

He hadn't expected to wake up, later. He gasped and sat up, hands reaching blindly, frantically, into nothing. A burst of pain in his chest forced him back down, and he nearly blacked out again.

He looked around, body slick with sweat as he panicked, looking around to figure out where he was, mind trying to figure out what had happened.

He felt a gentle pressure by his feet, and a warm hand pressed to his forehead.

"Welcome back, Will."

That was Hannibal's voice. Quiet, sure. Perhaps it was his own confusion, but Will could have sworn there was something… different. Perhaps a bit of a warble that inferred something beyond the man's usual brand of steady confidence.

It didn't matter.

"I… you… you're okay?"

Hannibal came into view, the same composed man in the tweed suit.

"I am. You very nearly weren't, my silly, foolish, brace Will…" he murmured, sitting down by Will's side.

Will looked down, his chest was covered in bandages, a couple little tubes running from them. So he really had been shot.

"Why did you do that? Why did you put yourself in the way?" Hannibal sounded nearly… angry.

"Because I couldn't lose you," Will croaked.

Hannibal's hand stroked Will's hair, soothing, tender, nothing one might expect from a creature that had done so much damage.

"Even though you knew what I was?"

"You were the lesser evil in my eyes."

"And what now? Will you try to flee as soon as you are well? Will you kill me yourself?"

Will chuckled softly, leaning into the warm hand.

"Seems a bit pointless. I'd starve to death without your cooking."

Hannibal managed a smile, though it was very nearly a grimace, and Will realized with some amusement (and some sadness) that there were tears in the man's eyes.

"Hey now, I'm the one with a hole in my body, no crying," Will chided gently, his own hand reaching out to wipe the tears away.

"I am sorry. I never intended to… get so attached."

Will hummed in agreement. He hadn't either. But that's what they got for being lonely fools, he supposed.

"Just to clarify," Will started, carefully adjusting, "did you feed me my Crewmates?"

That would be… problematic, to say the least, but he would understand.

"I… yes."

"To get rid of evidence?"

"Partially. Partially to… initiate you."

Into what? Was there some kind of monster cult? Hannibal saw his confusion and continued.

"I… wondered, perhaps, if you would… ever consider becoming… more. Than you are. Becoming the purest form of yourself."

"Becoming like you, you mean," Will interpreted, and Hannibal nodded.

"I confess, it gave me great excitement to think about."

Will could imagine. Hannibal must have been even more alone than Will felt, with no one truly understanding anything about him.

"Why not finish it?"

"I would need your consent. I could, in theory, turn you, but…"

Hannibal looked down.

"I would rather you kill me than resent me for turning you against your will. I knew you would likely starve yourself in protest. I… I could not watch you do that."

It was the most vulnerable Will thought he had ever seen Hannibal. There was something deeply endearing about it.

"Well, now what, then? Will you turn me now? If I consent?"

Hannibal looked up at him, tears even greater than they had been.

"You would want to become such a thing?"

"I think I would. If it means I can be with you. If you'll have me."

Will scarcely had time to blink when Hannibal's lips were on his own, and those tender arms were cradling him to the monstrous man's chest.

For such a powerful creature, Hannibal seemed so delicate and fragile now. Will carefully returned the embrace, mewling into the kiss.

He'd never felt like this before. He felt… known. Perceived, all that he was. He loved it.

"Are there many like us?" He murmured as Hannibal pulled away to rest their foreheads together.

"No, there is no one like us."

Will chuckled softly.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I can't say I do, please enlighten me."

"Now you're teasing me."

"I would never," Hannibal purred softly.

"Right, right. I mean, are there more, I guess, imposters? What are we called?"

"Probably. I never cared to know any before. All I need, all I desire, is here, with you."

Will laughed, shaking his head.

"You're lucky you're so charming."

"I am. I'm lucky you appreciate my special brand of charm."

Will hummed in agreement, leaning up for another kiss. He could easily see himself getting addicted to this. It seemed Hannibal could to, because the man was straddling his hips.

"Easy, now, I'm grievously injured, remember? You have to play nice with me," Will teased.

"Of course, of course. Just getting comfortable" Hannibal retorted.

"That so? Well alright, I suppose I can't be mad at that, then."

Hannibal smiled, genuinely, pressing gentle kisses to Will's forehead.

"Don't worry. I'm a patient man. I've waited this long for you, I can manage a few more weeks. Just be patient with me as well. This… is all new."

Will nodded, yawning and adjusting himself again. He felt exhaustion tug at his mind, and though he tried, he couldn't resist just resting his eyes.

"It's alright, my Will. Sleep. You have time to Become something amazing."

[bunnyramen]

Shinsou took a long deep breath, a bit nervous for his first day in Class 1a. He had been moved somewhat abruptly when some grape kid was expelled, Kinetic was it?

The lavender headed boy normally didn’t get nervous, it usually only showed on the inside.

But anyone could tell from his stance and his tightened back pack straps that he was mentally sweating bullets.

He decided to just go for it, it’s usually what Pops (Mic) told him to do, or at least that’s what he did when he asked out Dad.

And his brother Todoroki was in here, it shouldn’t be too bad.

He slid open the door to reveal everyone in little spots talking about whatnot, only some turning to look his way.

“Hey Shinsou!” The boy he had gotten to know as Kirishima Eijirou left his small group gathered around a couple desks and started walking towards him.

Was it normal to be squinting in a ordinarily lit room, or was this guy just that bright?

“I’m so glad you got to come to our class, especially with such a cool quirk! I mean when you’re in it, it feels so strange! Like this one...” once again, Kirishima began to ramble about something that Shinsou really wanted to pay attention to but couldn’t.

—-

“It looks like another person has fallen victim to Kirishima’s cuteness.” Kaminari shook his head sadly as he watched Kirishima y’all at Shinsou, remembering the first time he met Kirishima.

Min had been pushing him to be more outgoing during the summer before U. A. and it really paid off when he confidently introduced himself to Kaminari, the blonde was a bit star struck .

He had no choice but to befriend the overly bright boy.

—-

“Sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” Kirishima stopped himself right in the middle of his story. He looked up questioningly at him, Shinsou noticing their height difference.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I mean, I’d rather have someone talking to me than being ignored.” He chuckled nervously, putting a hand on his neck.

“Well, I know you know Kaminari but you’re going to love Mina, Sero, and Jirou! I don’t know about Bakugou, ‘cause of the sports festival but we’ll see.” Kirishima grabbed his other hand and started bringing him over to his group of friends.

Shinsou’s cheeks turned pink without his will nor consent.

—-

“It hasn’t even been three minutes and his cheeks are already pink from being in close proximity of Kirishima. That’s gotta be a new record!” Mina pointed out as the lavender boy was brought over to their group.

“I’m surprised Kirishima doesn’t notice every time it happens.” Jirou put her feet on the desk, showing off the new patch she put on her pants. She was pretty proud of it since it was made by Momo herself.

“You know how dense Kirishima is, if the world’s oxygen cut off for five seconds, he’d probably still try and continue breathing.” Sero flicked a paper football through Kaminari’s waiting fingers, hitting the boy in the nose.

Bakugou nodded in agreement, going back to finishing up his English homework.

“Hey guys!” Speak of the angel, Kirishima came into hearing distance with Shinsou in tow, slightly hunched because of how low Kirishima’s hand was.

“Sup Shinsou!” Kaminari turned around in his chair since he was facing Sero.

“Hey, you’re that kid from the sports festival! Welcome to class 1-a!” Mina patted him on the back rather roughly, pushing a cough out of Shinsou.

Bakugou looked him up and down, “Ew.” He mumbled.

“Dude, be more respectful! If it were Minoa or whatever, I would say have at it but Shinsou’s nice!” Kirishima unknowingly held the lavender haired boy’s hand a bit tighter, momentarily forgetting that they were still holding hands.

“Boomer is just mad that Shinsou spit facts before the sports festival.” Kaminari dogged the oncoming pencil with about as much grace as a broken legged gazelle, the pencil clocking him in the side of the head.

“Denks, are you okay?” Kirishima walked over to him quickly, letting go of Shinsou’s hand, who wouldn’t admit to himself that he missed it already.

The redhead checked the side of Denki’s head, sighing when he found nothing wrong.

“Dude, that was so rude! You could’ve seriously hurt Denki!” He hugged the blonde to his chest protectively, Kaminari’s cheeks rapidly turned a bright red fire hydrant color.

He laughed dazedly, seeming to be having the time of his life.

“Well, he should shut the fuck up if he knows what’s good for him!” Bakugou raises another pencil threateningly, Kirishima glares at him.

“You throw that, and you’re history.” Kirishima raised an eyebrow, daring him to do it.

Bakugou stares for a while before putting the pencil down and going back to his work, Kirishima smiling.

The redhead breathed in to say something but Aizawa came in, telling everyone that butts should be in chairs and mouths should be shut.

Aizawa tiredly trudged up to the podium, asking for Shinsou to come up next to him.

Shinsou stood up from his place in the back, walking just as tiredly up to the podium next to his Dad.

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi, he’s moving from the General Departments to Class 1-A. Any questions?” Yellow eyes looked around the room for any signs of hands.

“Is Shinsou your son?” Deku raised his hand from the back of the room, getting his notebook ready for a new page.

“Yes.” Aizawa decided in that moment that there was no hiding anything from the observant boy.

There really wasn’t an uproar like Aizawa expected, just small murmurs of “I knew it.” And “That makes sense.”

“Anyway’s Hitoshi, you can go back to your seat.” He patted the boy on the back.

As Hitoshi walked back, he caught glimpse of Kirishima smiling at him, making the corners upturn a bit.

“Alright class, today....”

——-

As Shinsou sat down with Midoriya and the self proclaimed “DekuSquad” for lunch, Kirishima approached him holding a book in his hands.

“Hope you don’t mind but I drew you, as a welcoming present to class 1-A!” Kirishima flipped his heavily stickered sketchbook to a page and handed it to Shinsou, the boy down his chopsticks and grabbed the book.

Shinsou blinked a few times, expecting a child like doodle of some sort but this was so far from it.

Ochako looked over his shoulder, failing to keep in a small gasp.

It was him, but he was in action, using his capture weapon to tie up bad guys, he looked kind of like spider man with his webbing. The hero outfit he had on was styled with so much detail and finesse that it looked like a photograph at first glance.

He very much liked the design.

“Kirishima, this is amazing. Do you mind if I keep it?” Shinsou said monotone and deep, as he always did, but you could tell something different was behind it.

“Oh! Sure thing!” Kirishima looked surprised that he would even ask, ripping out the page in his book carefully and handing it to him.

“Thank you, Kirishima.” He gave him a small grateful smile.

“Of course! No need to thank me!” He scampered off back to his table.

“Wait, there’s writing on the back!” Ochako flipped over and placed it back in his hands.

“What’s it say?” Midoriya finished up his noodles and pushed the bowl away from himself.

“I am quite curious myself, actually.” Iida looked at him, Todoroki doing the same.

Attached to the picture was a little red post it nots, written in Kirishima’s squiggly, loopy handwriting read “Hey Shinsou! Wanna go out for ice cream after school? My treat! Text me (679-999-8212)-Kirishima”

“Looks like Kirishima-kun likes you, kero.” Shinsou blushed ten-fold at her boldness,

Tsuyu smiling somewhat smugly.

This time Shinsou smiled broadly, Midoriya getting a small shiver down his spine from how uncanny it looked compared to Aizawa- Sensei’s.

He pulled out his phone and typed in the number, replying with a one word answer.

“Yes.”

—-

(Small story to the ice cream shop. Aizawa and Mic also showed us since it was also their date night, and while ordering Mic saw them sitting at a table. Aizawa thinks to himself, “Huh, not blonde like I expected but red is fine too.” And they both go over there and they just all sit together. Kirishima learns that Aizawa Sensei can be really funny in a Wednesday Addams sorta way. Mic says something like “I wish Shouto could’ve been here to see his little brother on his first date!” Shinsou and Kirishima both blush, the other not realizing it did look like a date. And in walks Todoroki, coming in to order his weekly salted caramel ice cream. Mic is loudly waving him over and Aizawa quiets him down. And the 5 of them just eat ice cream together.)

@deepseawave Happy Valentine’s Day!! I love you! I got really inspired by one of your posts (as you can read) and WOW JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH!! YOU ARE SO AWESOME!!

Oh and the backpack! I don’t know if you can see but there are little pins it, Present mic, Eraserhead, Todoroki, Eri, and Midoriya.

[cardigan-guy]

Something I need to talk about or I’ll literally evaporate

Around the time this all started I was 14. I had only recently discovered a passion for theater (and fashion) and as a result I wanted to get in good with the theater kids. Sure enough, my closest friend also did theater. We auditioned for the Fall play, and I made it. I got to know some people pretty well. They liked me too, at least, I think so. Can’t be too sure of who to trust when everyone around you is an actor. Regardless, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

One of my struggles, throughout most of my short life, has been that I am an incredibly picky romantic. Maybe it’s just my intuition, but if I don’t think something is going to work out between someone and myself, I snuff it out at the first possible opportunity. It’s a skill to be able to break up with someone, that’s for sure. However, I had a bit of an entitlement complex. I thought I deserved love just for being who I was. My 14-year-old ego was raging. It wasn’t cool. It probably wasn’t helped by the next person I met, whose influence on my life has been astronomical. 

I can’t use her real name (I like to remain semi anonymous), so we’ll call her Marie. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. How we met was a complete accident.

 It was the first day of winter. I had just entered a relationship. I was walking to where my friends ate lunch at. There was an eating area, surrounded by some bushes, in between where I was coming from and where I was headed. In this bushy area, I saw an old friend of mine and 3 of her friends. While I walked past she was in the midst of saying “My dog almost died last night.” Upon hearing this, I replied “Oh no, I love your dog!” And I walked away. Behind me, I heard -- or at least thought I heard -- someone say, “I love you [my name].” To which, of course, I replied “I love you too!” Biggest mistake of my life. I thought -- and secretly, hoped -- that it was Marie that said it. 

School was let out for a two-week break. During that time, I tried connecting with my ill-fated match (truly, we were not meant to be), all the while I couldn’t shake what had transpired on that island in the middle of the parking lot. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know if Marie said it or not. I messaged her over social media, and asked, very bluntly, “Was it you who said ‘I love you [my name]?’” and she replied with “I don’t know. I say ‘I love you’ a lot.” After that interaction we just kept talking. I was fascinated with this beautiful girl who I had only ever met once. And she certainly loved the attention. I would text her nonstop, for weeks on end. One day, she gave me her number and asked to facetime. That only deepened my affection for her. 

My previously-mentioned girlfriend at the time broke up with me. Not because I did anything, just because we wanted very different things. This, though a little sad, was more freeing than anything. It meant that I could put everything into this new girl that I’d met. And I went crazy. I was texting or calling her every minute of every day for months. We’re talking around the middle of December towards probably the end of February. In mid-January, it became pretty obvious to her that I had feelings. 

“But I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen,” I said. She said she’d wait. I wasn’t going to be sixteen for another year-and-a-half, and here she was, saying she’d wait for me. She even put a little ‘two years’ after my name in her contacts. My heart was fluttering. I was so hopelessly, desperately infatuated with this girl. We kept going. I’d text her day-in, day-out, and there was never a problem.

But that was the problem. I was very, very, interested in Marie. My entire mood depended on her. Late one night, around the end of February, I called her. I told her I couldn’t talk to her anymore. That it was too painful to spend every day talking to someone I loved but could never have for myself. And what I said to her, while she cried over losing me, was,

“Eat your greens.” and I hung up. 

Thus, I entered the pit of despair that the Gregorian calendar calls “March.” It sure as hell felt like a March. Every day I was trudging through feelings of loneliness, longing, anger, self-doubt. I wasn’t doing better. It felt like it would be easier to just go back. And guess what I did?

I went back.

It took me less than a month to go back to Marie -- partially, because I was thoroughly convinced that I loved her, but partially because I knew that her presence in my life made everything a lot easier. It gave me a small sense of purpose. And it was a never-ending cycle of one of us leaving because our feelings were too much. Because I loved her or because she didn’t love me. Because of how she felt about herself. It was torment, and it was a lot of back and forth. 

This brings us up to the night before memorial day that year. Her brother was in my grade, and we had known each other because we both were in the Fall play together. He invited me to sleep over at his house the Sunday prior to Memorial day. I’d slept over at their house before. Seeing her there was a regular occurrence, but, more often than not my attention was turned to whatever her brother wanted to do out of politeness. Though, vine compilations do get boring after a time.

Somehow or other, all three of us ended up cuddling on their trampoline in the backyard. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but I got used to it. We just sat there, talking, staring at the sky. It was a beautiful May night. Her brother had fallen asleep spooning me, so it became just her and I talking. She said I was a good to cuddle. I looked at her. She looked at me. She told me she wanted to kiss me. She said she was afraid to kiss me. I said it was okay. I lied. We kissed. We kissed again. She went inside. I stayed there and watched stars fall from the sky as I felt my heart soar into heaven. 

When I woke up, I was in hell again. 

After that I don’t remember much. I know we stopped talking once the summer began. I don’t remember why. I know we went to the pool once. I remember thinking she was beautiful. I remember visiting her house a couple times during the summer. After that, it’s nothing. 

We went back to school, and it was very unlucky that we were basically apart of the same friend group. I had yet another girlfriend (at this point I’d given up on ever dating Marie) and my girlfriend’s friends, my friends, and sometimes Marie and her friends, all ate together. Time passed, my girlfriend and I broke up and my best friend and I were eating somewhere new. 

Eventually, we all got resettled and started eating with a teacher we all liked, called Mr. Johnson. He was a really great teacher and a really great, caring guy. 

It was around this time that I lost my grandfather. He was a huge influence on my life. My grandfather was so full of compassion and a lust for life. He really believed in helping other people. I can’t remember much from this period of time either. My memories start to recollect around November of that year. 

My best friend was done with me. So was Marie. So was everyone else I know. They wanted nothing to do with me. They were upset that I was upset. That’s all it really was. Marie was upset that I was upset with her and my best friend was upset that I wouldn’t talk to him about how upset I was. So I was going into the new year with a very minimal amount of close friends and tons of grief. 

It went on like that for a month or two. My best friend eventually forgave me. Marie came around too, but that took a little longer. 

I remember, one night, I was with two of my good friends when Marie called me. She said,

“[My name], I cut myself, and it’s really deep. I’m scared.”

When I got home, I snuck out the back door and ran to go see her. She was at the local park, smoking with her friend and her brother. I was a little disappointed. I ran up to her to go see her. she invited me to come smoke with them. I obliged. I hated every second of it. The fact that she was using the drugs as a way to hide from what had happened. It didn’t sit well with me. I was worried about her. I was terrified for her.

I just remembered that happened before my grandpa died and not after, sorry. 

I guess the clearest point of this all that I can think of was March of the new year. We were pretty close.

Things got intense. More intense than they had ever been before. We started exchanging photos. Sexting. At the expense, I think, of really confronting how we felt. We settled for something that bordered on reality, but was very far from it in practice. However, an almost-good thing can never really last. 

In late April, she came out to me as a lesbian. 

I don’t have anything against lesbians. This particular occurrence has happened to me numerous times, in fact. It’s a little sad but I try not to think about it too much. I actually talk to one of my lesbian exes a lot. It’s nice. Their love for women is much more akin to mine than any of my straight male friends. 

Marie and I didn’t talk to each other for three months after that, until late one night when I was traveling. According to her, my timing was excellent. While I was across the country, she was staying with a friend, and one of the people who was with her was applying great pressure to engage in some activities. Knowing that I prevented this was a small little victory for me.

I called her again the night after that. This time, she was at home. It didn’t take long for things to get intimate. At least, as intimate as you can get over the phone. Writing this right now, all I can think of is how much I hate that it happened. 

Things went on like this for some time. We were semi-intimate with each other and we were each other’s emotional punching bags when we needed one. And we were both okay like this until one day, things really took a nose dive. 

I was sitting in one of our schools many outdoor areas, leaned up against a fire hydrant, talking to my friends. I’m always looking for Marie at this point, and eventually she comes up to me and she says,

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“My friend invited me to have a threesome with her and her boyfriend. I think I might go. Please, don’t be mad.”

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” I was furious. 

My inability to confront people is one of my more toxic traits. I feel that this particular instance really demonstrates that.

The bell rang, and she walked away, and I walked away. I spent my next two classes with nothing on my mind but how mad I was. When I didn’t see her at lunch, it only upset me more. I felt like I was nothing to her. She was my rock, my everything, but I was always secondary to her. It’s not like we were together or anything, but it still hurt quite a bit. I thought we had some sort of understanding. 

I was walking to my locker, just trying to put all the extra energy I had somewhere. I had to get books for my French class, which Marie and I had together. As I’m walking, I’m not really looking up or around me because I’m so withdrawn from everything. So, it’s not surprising that I didn’t see her walk up to me. But I did see her try to hug me, and my immediate response was one that I will regret for some time. 

She comes up, out of nowhere, to hug me, and instead of embracing her, I catch her arm before it can come up under me, and push her away. And she goes back about two feet. And I walk away. And I’m about twenty feet away before I realize what I did and call her to apologize. And the she comes and finds me and yells at me. And then we didn’t talk for another two months. 

But come November, we’re talking again. And come November nineteenth, I’m her boyfriend. And we slept together. And we were always on top of each other wherever we were. And I think it distracted me from how much I sucked. I changed, and for the worst. I no longer tried to love her. I don’t think I wanted to. I think that everything that happened between us made me a much worse person. 

Eventually, we did break up. It’s been, I think, a year now since then. I’m sorry if this isn’t a very well-put piece of writing. I did try to make it enjoyable. The details get a little fuzzy. I just needed to get this out there. 

For whoever ends up reading this. Trust me, it gets better. There is better out there for you. If something isn’t meant to be, it really isn’t meant to be. True love waits. 

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (4/18)

Chapter 4: Bad Luck Can Be a Big Break 

Madelyn and Deacon run their first Railroad operation together and find that they get along better than expected. Nick makes similar observations when finally introduced to the enigmatic man whose been following his partner for weeks. Overwhelmed by sudden feelings of guilt, Madelyn decides it’s as good as time as any to activate her last Christmas gift from Nate—a Mister Handy robot named Codsworth.

“Bad luck either makes a man or destroys him. Are you gonna let it destroy you? Depending how you take it, bad luck can be a big break.” - Police Inspector Nakajima as played by Gen Shimizu (Stray Dog, 1949)

x - x

[read on Ao3] ~ [chapter masterpost]

Madelyn devoted the following days to keeping herself from a full-fledged nervous breakdown. That late Friday evening spent in North End bled into early Saturday morning, and it was nearly sunrise by the time she made it back to the safety of her Cambridge apartment. Robby had escorted her back—or should she call him Drummer Boy? She wasn’t sure she’d adjust to codenames or subterfuge, despite the confidence the organization seemed to have in her capabilities. She was a lawyer, who just so happened to be partnered with a talented detective with a penchant for trouble. Maybe the Railroad needed to extend their invitation to Nick instead. And so she spent that Saturday anxiously pacing her tiny living room, Dogmeat at her heels with a worrying whine.

She had scribbled out all her woes on a notepad—listing out the pros and cons of sticking with the mysterious group. For starters, she considered Desdemona a useful ally, even if her tactics were questionable. In the brief meeting underneath the Old North Church, it was clear that the Railroad leader was efficient and would stop at nothing to get the answers she wanted. Madelyn had also met Glory—a tall, silver-haired woman who worked as an intern at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology by day and ran operations for the Railroad by night. She was considered their heavy, taking on the riskier jobs like transporting the ‘disappeared’ where they wanted to go. Well, at least until their base of operations was forced underground. For that, Madelyn etched her name under pros. After careful consideration on having one of their agents as a neighbor, she realized it likely couldn’t hurt to have somebody nearby—and so Drummer Boy was added too.

When Madelyn focused on the cons, her apprehension spiked. All the secrecy and deception was not how she typically operated, even with the Valentine Detective Agency. Nick knew full well she liked to play things clean and by the book as much as possible, seeing as she had the law to uphold. While she enjoyed the thrill of investigating leads and chasing down bad guys, she wasn’t keen on full blown espionage. That being said, she wasn’t blind to the fact that her time with the agency had turned dangerous—Earl Sterling’s case a glowing example. The hunt to corner Eddie Winter would only exacerbate matters. While she carried a pistol in her purse for protection ever since the night Nate died, she prayed she never had to use it. More disadvantages to joining the Railroad: Desdemona had mentioned they were attacked—the deaths swept under the rug by some kind of media conspiracy. So a threat to her life was certainly a possibility. Premature death—con.

Her mind drifted and she thought about their top agent—as Desdemona put it—Deacon. The man who had followed her, tracked her down and ensured she made her way to the Railroad in the first place. Desdemona was now entrusting him to teach Madelyn the ropes, pairing the two as partners, their task to collect more intel on the Railroad’s would-be enemies. When she thought about if this belonged in the pro or con column, she was frustratingly undecided, falling asleep in the corner of her wrap-around couch.

On Sunday, she awoke startled and confused, sure that the last forty-eight hours had all been a dream. The first thing Madelyn did was call Nick, who was on his way out the agency doors to track her down, worried when he hadn’t heard from her after her evening out. Ellie and Jenny had both talked him down from thinking anything horrible had happened to her, and he had stewed behind his desk all, chain-smoking up a storm without getting a moment of work done in the Eddie Winter case—or any other case, for that matter. Nick was relieved to hear she hadn’t been snatched up, but as she expected, had a plethora of questions the moment she mentioned her encounter with the Railroad. Surprisingly, however, the detective was in favor of her newfound alliance, believing the benefits far outweighed the risks. Even if she was reluctant, Madelyn agreed that she would stick to the planned Monday morning meeting with Deacon—whatever that entailed—then rendezvous with Nick to share all the details of her ordeal.

He wished her good luck. Little did she know how much she needed her friend’s good fortune. 

January 20th, 1958

Drummer Boy delivered the instructions for the meeting just after sunrise on Monday—a faded parchment not unlike the one she received on New Year’s Eve—neatly typed lettering directing her to Lexington, specifically on a street corner near the Corvega assembly plant. The industrial complex was a short cab ride from her apartment, and despite the cold-front that had swept in overnight, she elected to wait on the sidewalk, bundled up in her thick, dark blue coat and matching gloves. It didn’t take Madelyn very long to start shivering in place as she waited in the designated spot by the fire hydrant along Massachusetts Ave, wishing she had worn thicker stockings. After five minutes, she glanced down at her watch, irritation rising. At ten-past eight, she dug through her purse and pulled free her compact, compelled for some unbeknownst reason to assess her reflection.

“Didn’t have to get all dolled up just for me, Charmer.”

Madelyn snapped the mirror shut at the sound of Deacon’s voice, turning around to face where he had snuck up on her as if he had materialized straight up from the snow-covered sidewalk like some eldritch being. Or at least, she thought it was Deacon—he looked very different from the last time she saw him. He was dressed much more plainly and comfortably for the weather with a long scarf and gloves. There was something off about his hair, but she couldn’t tell—not with the trilby hat in the way. She wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for the reflective shades.

She was about to respond when she remembered Drummer Boy’s directions. As foolish as she felt, she repeated the memorized phrase. “Do you have a Geiger counter?”

Deacon smiled, impressed. “Mine is in the shop,” he replied. “Catching on quick, I see.”

Instead of offering a proper response, she motioned to his glasses. “Do you ever take those off?”

Deacon deflected, as to be expected. “My face?”  

Madelyn sighed—she didn’t want to appear impatient, but she had been kept waiting and was on the verge of freezing on what was supposed to be Boston’s coldest day of the month. Realizing, Deacon gestured for the two to walk up the incline towards the assembly plant.

“I would’ve worn different shoes if I knew we were going to be heading into Corvega,” she mused, breath frosting in the air before her face.

“We aren’t going inside the plant,” he started with a shake of his head, diverting them behind a small retainer wall. He tapped his shoe down against a metal surface, bending down to sweep the build-up of snow away to reveal a hidden maintenance door. “We’re going through here.”

He pointed to her blue suede heels. “Hope those aren’t designer.”

“You underestimate the mess Nick has dragged me through,” she countered, watching as he lifted the heavy metal plate to reveal a small shaft and a ladder that led down into what she could only assume was a sewer tunnel system. “Can’t say it’s ever been literal shit, though.”

Deacon let out a loud, belly-aching laugh as he sat on the ground, allowing his legs to dangle over the ledge. “Ladies first, unless you’d rather give me the chance at an up-skirt looky-loo.”

Despite the lewdness, Madelyn found herself amused and struggled to hide her smile—there were still some questions she wanted answered before she crawled her way down a mysterious hole in the ground. The letter he sent that morning wasn’t exactly clear, not that she expected it to be. “Where exactly are we going? What are we doing here?”  

“Our old HQ, before we were gassed out was built to be strong, defensible. We thought it was secure. This escape tunnel leads to the base,” he pointed over his shoulder to the Slocum’s Joe in the plaza a few hundred yards away. “Like Dez said, the survivors didn’t have time to grab anything. So we’re getting whatever intel was left behind in the rush.”

Madelyn was held up on secret underground headquarters. “The Railroad had a base under a donut shop?”

“Not every Slocum’s Joe has a massive tunnel complex underneath it,” he grinned, relishing in the fact that he was cluing her in on the big secret. “Used to be a Defense Intelligence Agency research lab during the war—until V-Day, and then some of those spies turned Railroad agents and the rest is history. We called it The Switchboard. Did us good, until more than half of us were snuffed out.”

She frowned, finding the loss of life distressing, compounded by the fact no one outside the organization except their killers and conspirators knew the truth. “What do we hope to find?”

“Something that shows who the sons-of-bitches that did this in the first place,” Deacon responded before flashing a small, grim smile. “I think I left behind some clean underwear, now that you mention it.”

Satisfied on the mission parameters, Madelyn stepped towards the maintenance entrance and began her descent, tightly gripping the metal bars so that she wouldn’t slip. Above her, Deacon watched for a few moments before following, shutting the metal latch closed behind them. Below her there was only a small light to lead her way, and as expected, a large puddle of water that was unavoidable as she approached the bottom. As she stepped through the murky water she groaned, knowing her shoes were now completely ruined—another pair for the damaged by field work box.

“Wet socks, my favorite,” Deacon announced sarcastically as he stepped down next to her, digging through his coat pockets until he produced a small, silver flashlight. He flicked it on, shining it under his chin for dramatic effect before angling it ahead through the tunnel. “Shall we?”

As they crept along the watery path in silence, Madelyn found herself glancing over at her newfound partner, unable to stop her mind from making comparisons to Nick. It wasn’t fair, considering she had known one man for years, and the other for a handful of hours spread across a few days. Deacon was—well he was an enigma, and she was determined to crack the code.

“Desdemona called you her top agent. How does your position differ from Glory’s?” she asked, catching his attention as they walked.

“My job’s mainly intel. So the more places I go, the better I’m doing it,” he turned his head in her direction. “Might have noticed me hanging around if you weren’t so wrapped up in your detective work. What can I say? You’re just one big beautiful distraction,” he beamed. “Plenty of opportunities to learn secrets following you around.”

Madelyn let his overzealous complement slide, focused instead on what he had mentioned. “You weren’t just at the New Year’s gala?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

Figured. She had deduced by that point he was at the Memory Den not only to follow her, but because the Railroad had to have an inside agent there too, and that person could only be Irma, given her position and knowledge of Deacon in the first place. She’d keep that nugget of information to herself for now. Madelyn leaned a little closer—a test, to see if invading his personal space would discomfort him. Of course, he wasn’t bothered in the slightest, as she should’ve known, based on their very first encounter.

“Have you had partners before me, Deacon?” she questioned next, resisting the urge to smile. Now she was just being nosy, even if it was a valid question that had run through her mind. “And why use the codename Deacon anyways? Have a fascination with religious symbolism, or something?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” he joked, feigning annoyance. “I feel like I’m being interrogated!”

Madelyn softly snickered at that. “I could cuff you and take you back to the agency, give you the real experience.”

His eyebrows shot up, lips twisted in amusement. “Kinky.”

Halfway through the maintenance tunnel they came upon a locked gate. Again, Deacon patted at his pockets before reaching directly towards her temple. Understandably, she flinched away, blinking at him in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Have a bobby pin I can borrow?” he explained, gloved fingers still reaching for her hairline and up-do. Madelyn dodged his invasive approach, pressing her body closer to the iron bars. Maybe she deserved that for testing his personal bubble.

“Good lord,” she sighed, exasperated, pulling free a small iron pin from her golden curls herself. “I can pick a lock too, if you’d only ask.”

Deacon was visibly pleased by her declaration, shining the light on the lock so that she might see her work. “And where might a lovely lawyer such as yourself have learned such a reprehensible skill?”

“My um—” she faltered, deciding now was not the time to tell Deacon about her deceased husband, or the little things he had taught her in their life together. She wondered if there ever would be a time—or if he already knew, and she even needed to broach the subject. The pin snagged and she steadied her hand. “Nick taught me.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her as if he could tell she was being dishonest. She knew if she was going to continue working with him, she would need to get better at the art of lying. She didn’t go to law school for years upon years without developing a silver-tongue—now it was time to put it to good use. Deacon drummed his fingers along the torch.

“I’m used to running Railroad ops solo. But being partnered up with you?” Madelyn glanced out of the corner of her eye to catch a glimpse of his smirk—apparently it was the only expression he knew. “Isn’t too bad. Now that we’re a team, we should have a code name. Like Double Indemnity, or White Heat…the Big Sleep?”

She paused to remove her gloves, stuffing them in her coat pocket. Fingers bare, she had an easier time with the metal pin, even with Deacon’s rambling. “I’m partial to Bogart and Bacall—though I wonder if that movie was only half as good because of their off-screen romance.”

“If this plays out anything like a cliché noir film,” Deacon mused. “I can’t promise you won’t fall devastatingly head-over-heels in love with me by the end.”

Madelyn smiled, but she immediately dismissed the words as harmless banter. So he was a flirt—she could manage that. “I can’t guarantee you won’t be the one doing the falling, Mr. Deacon.”

“Oh, Charmer.”

With a resounding snap, the lock broke free and Madelyn pushed the gate open for the two to advance. These tunnels had more lighting, and beyond another unlocked security door was a small maintenance room, filled with tools, supplies, and boxes. Deacon lingered near the bookshelves, scanning for anything he could salvage. Meanwhile, she peered out through the broken windowpanes and into the large room ahead, overwhelmed by what she saw. A long time ago now, Nate had explained that during his time in the military he had seen intelligence bases that looked straight out of a Hollywood spy thriller, but she always thought he was having her for a laugh—until now.

Even abandoned, the area was spacious, rows of desks set up and prepared for spies—rather, Railroad agents—to research intel on whatever information they saw fit. In an overhead, second-story room sat a large, data computer, powered down and out of commission. She was so caught up in taking in the sight of the so-called Switchboard that she hardly realized Deacon had snuck beside her. She figured he would shed more wisdom on the Railroad’s former base of operations, but instead his next words sent her reeling.

“So you’re married.”

Madelyn nearly choked. “What?”

He tilted his chin down at her left hand and reflexively, she covered the ring with her right, twisting it nervously between her fingers. His expression was too hard to read when he wasn’t grinning at her, eyes always covered up with those ridiculous darkened sunglasses. “That shiny rock you’ve got has implications.”

“Then you should already know the answer,” she said in return, unable to hold back her discomfort. “Right?”

Deacon shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe I wanted to hear it from you instead of reading it in a file. You know what they say about assuming.”

She hesitated several times, opening and closing her mouth when the words wouldn’t come out. This was an emotional wall so few had breached, and she wasn’t sure if Deacon was one that could be added to the list—not yet anyways. Still, she felt as though she owed him some semblance of the truth, a sign of good faith, if their partnership were to continue.  

“I—I’m widowed,” she spoke softly, avoiding looking at his face. “That’s all I’m willing to say, right now.”

“Fair enough,” he replied with a nod. She hoped that was the end for his line of questioning, but then he tapped his finger along his chin. “You’re a woman of faith, right? Have you ever been to the church in Quincy?”

“Now I feel like I’m being interrogated,” she muttered, flicking her gaze to him, hoping he caught her sarcasm. “Are you going to pull handcuffs out of your pockets?”

Deacon’s lips twisted into a sideways grin. “No, but I can talk dirty if you’d like. Veux-tu voir mon pantalon?”

Madelyn couldn’t help but laugh—the warmth in her chest a bizarre and foreign feeling—but her amusement was real. Delighted by her reaction, Deacon silently beckoned for her to follow through the double doors into the Switchboard proper. “Come on, Bacall, let’s find some intel.”

She wanted to tease him, say something clever about how she saw Nick Valentine as more of the Humphrey Bogart type instead, but the moment they crossed the threshold, the air was sucked out from her lungs. The attack on the former headquarters had occurred months ago and yet the underground building still reeked of gas and death. Madelyn felt the corners of her eyes prickle—the air quality wasn’t enough to harm her, but it was caustic enough to be unpleasant. She grabbed one glove from her pocket and held it over her nose and mouth. When she glanced over to Deacon, he was doing the same with the edge of his scarf. She followed him through the rows of abandoned desks and toppled over chairs, scanning the wooden surfaces for files or anything that looked important. Then again, she wasn’t entirely sure what would be important. Deacon passed through the area dismissively, brushing aside forgotten paperwork with the sole of his shoe.

“Where are you going?” she asked, coughing a little at the bitter taste in the air.

He silently gestured upstairs and continued on his path. In the console room that overlooked the main floor, the air was clearer, allowing her to inspect the surroundings a little more carefully. On the nearby table was a forgotten notepad, the handwriting barely legible.

“What exactly is a MILA, and what does it have to do with…MIT terraforming the Commonwealth?” she asked, hesitantly. As she flipped through the notes, she was sure she had stumbled upon the rantings of a madman.

Deacon let out a boisterous chuckle. “Bring those with you. Tinker Tom will be forever in your debt.”

“Tinker…” she shook her head, deciding not to ask for clarification. She tucked away the small notepad into her purse. “Another one of your operatives?”

“He’s not a field agent anymore,” he explained as they moved through the back-office corridors, Deacon leading them left towards a few scientific research labs. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, considering he used to work there. “Tom is—how do I put it—our engineer. He invents things, usually things that are incredibly illegal and likely to get us all blown up and killed, but thirty percent of the time, his inventions are helpful.”

“He’s intelligent but has fallen so far off his rocker it’s hard to tell sometimes,” he described further, in a somber tone. “If you were under all that stress from watching your friends die, it’d be hard not to succumb to madness.”

Madelyn didn’t say anything, her mind switching focus to the ­pros and cons list she had drawn up over the weekend. With each new grain of information, the negatives were starting to outweigh the positives. Deacon—she was still undecided. For a moment there, she could’ve sworn she had seen a hidden depth of emotion, but it had faded away just as fast as it appeared. He glanced over his shoulder to look at her, as if he had heard her thinking about him, or rather, felt her staring at the back of his head.

“Our good Doctor Carrington kept a vault up ahead. I can guarantee there’s something we need locked away in there,” he explained. Now there were two names—two Railroad agents in which she needed a face to a name. The back-corner room looked more like a medical lab, albeit with a large, metal door that was better suited for a bank than a doctor’s office. “What’s your lucky number?”

It was a rhetorical question at best, Deacon approaching the safe mechanism eagerly as he removed his gloves. Even though he appeared to know the combination, he made a show of it, leaning in to listen to the gradual ticks of the cogs as they clicked into place. Not a moment later, the lock was open, and he was flashing a self-satisfied grin. “Open says me.”

A gush of air filled the room as the vault door creaked open. Inside, an emergency light flickered eerily, forming elusive shadows out of the metal storage shelves that lined the large safe. Whatever Madelyn expected to find she was astounded by medical and technical gadgets, all abandoned from when the Railroad was forced to evacuate. She was half tempted to pick up a metal contraption of sorts when she was reminded of the possible contamination and focused her attention elsewhere.

“Here we are,” Deacon announced, pulling a large, dusty folder from the shelf. He inspected the contents, allowing Madelyn to gander a peek from over his arm. She was surprised to find many, if not all the pages written in code. “Hadn’t gotten around to deciphering this batch yet.”

“How do you know it’s important then?”

“Because ten people died ensuring it didn’t land in the wrong hands, that’s why.”

Madelyn cocked her head aside, seeing the mission for what it was. “This was the target all along, wasn’t it?” When he nodded, she nearly lost her patience. “You could’ve told me instead of stringing me along for kicks. I went through all of that, and I don’t know why.”

Deacon frowned, realizing he had miscalculated her reaction. “Would you believe me if I said that I don’t know either?”

“No.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded with a small pout. He shut the folder and tucked it into his coat for safe keeping. “Dez approved the op. For all I know, these are instructions on how to brew the perfect cup of coffee.”

She had to take his word for it, hoping everything they had just done was worth the effort. Deacon led the pair towards another maintenance shaft and up a metal catwalk that led to a service elevator. After he pressed the button, she peered at him curiously. “Aren’t we going back the way we came?”

“Speaking of. How do you take your coffee?” he avoided the question, motioning for her to enter the small elevator before him as the doors chimed open.

Madelyn sighed, wondering if it wasn’t too late to ask Desdemona to be paired up with someone else. Still, she humored him. “Two sugars and a little bit of cream.”

Even as they crept through the tunnels, she had doubted that the old Railroad Headquarters was beneath the Slocum’s Joe, but as they exited the elevator into a basement storage room, she was faced with boxes of the coffee shop’s paraphernalia, including a very brightly colored donut costume that was folded over the staircase banister.

“Tinker Tom used to wear that on the street corner while on lookout,” Deacon explained, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking. She followed him up the stairs, but instead of a door there was a false panel of thick wood that took some effort to push open. He stuck his head through the small gap, checking the perimeter. “After you. Cars’ out front if you’d like an escort back to your neck of the woods.”

Madelyn flashed him an indignant stare. She gestured to her ruined shoes. “Two entrances and we had to take the long way around?”

“You’ve shown me you can dance,” he answered. “I wanted to know that you could sneak around too.”

She walked ahead of him through the false bookshelf with half-of-mind to hail a cab as soon as she was outside when his hand hooked into her elbow and yanked her back and into the closest booth. She was about to protest when his eyebrows raised high above his shades. “Act natural.”

She flicked her eyes down to where his hand was covering her own across the table. It wasn’t as an alarming of a shock like the one she felt at the Memory Den, but still, her skin tingled at the unfamiliar contact. Given the circumstances, she didn’t pull away and she squashed the thought that wondered if she would’ve done so otherwise. But if he wanted a ruse, they would need to blend in. She took a moment to shrug off her coat, folding the garment into the space beside her before grabbing the menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser.

Deacon caught on, discarding his own coat and scarf to his right. His left hand breached across the linoleum surface, fingers curling around her right hand again. She wasn’t surprised this was the act he wanted to put on. “Do you see the man at the counter?”

Madelyn barely flicked her gaze up and over his shoulder, grinning like he had told her a joke instead. “The man in black? Yes. He’s wearing sunglasses,” she paused to twist a golden curl around her finger with her free hand—she might have been over doing it. “One of yours?”

“Definitely not,” he responded, disguising his vitriol behind a soft laugh. “But he is here for us.”

She took a glance at the man at the main counter again as discreetly as she could, made easier when a passing waitress collected their coffee orders from Deacon who was all too happy to show off how he had remembered hers. At first glance, the dark-skinned man didn’t look threatening—appeared to be just another businessman on a coffee break—but the way he was scanning the diner with purpose sent a chill down her spine. A hunch told her he wasn’t one of Winter’s men—but then who did he work for?

“Who else knew about us coming here today?” Madelyn asked, not meaning to sound so serious. If this man in black was after the forgotten intel that Railroad agents had died to protect, then he had to belong to the same organization that killed them in the first place. Remembering the facade, she smiled.

He squeezed her hand, either in realization or as part of their charade. “Are you implying we have a mole?”

“Mole, rat,” she shrugged, as if he was talking about something else. The waitress returned with their orders and he stared into his coffee for a long moment before taking a sip. “Afraid it’s been poisoned?”

He chuckled, genuinely this time. “Remember, you can’t trust everyone.”

“Even you?”

Deacon’s fingers flexed against hers again and he flashed a smirk behind the rim of his cup. “Especially me.”

Madelyn didn’t have very long to think about if he was bluffing when she realized the well-dressed man was now advancing towards them. The way Deacon’s foot shifted against her heel told her he also knew they were about to be cornered. She started to run through a myriad of scenarios—one of which included throwing hot coffee—but she wondered if there was something a little more dignified she could do.

Her Railroad partner looked to her, eyebrow arched with a devious expression. “Want to lean over the table and—”

“No—”

“Mads?”

It happened simultaneously, the familiar voice echoing out across the diner—their saving grace—but also Madelyn’s absolute horror. Jennifer Lands came striding over, green heels loud against the tile and matching skirt a flutter as she ducked around the booths to stand right next to their table, circumventing the stranger not a moment too soon. For a moment, Madelyn thought he was going to interrupt but he moved on, flashing one last lingering glance over his shoulder at the booth before moving towards the exit. Only then did Madelyn switch her attention to her friend, who appeared overjoyed, grinning like she had won the lottery. Her hands were clasped under her chin as her eyes shifted between the two.

Oh. Oh no.

Madelyn instinctually pulled her hand away, tucking both beneath the table where she nervously fidgeted with her wedding ring. Deacon straightened his posture, looking too self-satisfied with the change in situation.

“Don’t get shy on account of me,” she beamed, winking at Madelyn. “Won’t you introduce me to your…”

Madelyn was going to regret this. She nodded, gesturing to Deacon. “This is—”

“Humphrey Bogart,” he interrupted, extending his arm.

Jenny giggled, indulging him as she grasped his hand in a polite shake. “It’s not every day you meet a dead celebrity.”

“A friend?” Deacon asked. He used his free hand to point up at Jenny. “I like her.”

Madelyn resisted the urge to groan—to slump into the vinyl diner seat until she could slither underneath the table and out the door not unlike a snake. Or maybe, if she closed her eyes hard enough, she’d spontaneously combust, or she’d wake up and this would have all been a fever dream. Was it possible that she’d inhaled some of the trace amounts of gas while traversing the underground tunnels and was now hallucinating?

“I’m her—”

She snapped herself back to reality before he could say anything—be it the truth or some fantastical lie.

“Jenny, this is Deacon,” she paused, crafting a plausible story in her mind. “He’s an informant for the agency.”

It was obvious Jenny didn’t believe her, still looking at the two expectantly. “You aren’t…on a—”

“No!” Madelyn wouldn’t even let the word come from her friend’s mouth. Deacon smiled, his non-offense to her harsh reaction forcing Jenny to second-guess her observations. The red-head looked ready to question them further when another familiar face appeared from someplace in the diner.

“Jenny isn’t bothering you on the job, now is she?” Nick Valentine—intuition as sharp as ever—gave Madelyn a quick nod. She wasn’t wholly decided on if his presence would make things better or worse. His fiancé seemed to be mulling the information in her mind, still unsure.

Madelyn flashed a toothy smile, gesturing across the table. Her patience was wearing thing. “Nick, you remember our informant from the Memory Den, Deacon.”

Deacon offered a wave. “Nick, you old dog. Good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Nick nodded, playing along.

He glanced to Madelyn, and she was surprised to find him neither suspicious nor annoyed but amused. A small smirk was pulling at his lips and she had to wonder if he had witnessed their donut-shop antics too. At least the detective knew why she was in Lexington that day and had the sense to put two and two together, unlike his lady love. Jenny wasn’t privy to the finer details of their work—better to leave her in the dark, for her own safety—even if it led to awkward situations such as this.

“We were just going over that information we discussed,” Madelyn said, discreetly.

On cue, Deacon lifted the thick file of paperwork they had just smuggled out from the Switchboard. “What Charmer said.”  

Nick’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “Is that so?” he rested his hand on Jenny’s back, smiling to his beloved. “Sweetheart, do you mind if I have a private, work-related chat with Madelyn? Shouldn’t take but five minutes.”

“Sure,” the red-head replied, her grin a little too devious as she waved Madelyn out of the diner booth. “I’ll keep Bogie here company.”

At Nick’s confusion, Madelyn shook her head, pulling on her coat as the two moved outside. She gave one last fleeting glance to Deacon, who only grinned. Leaving him alone with Jenny was about as bad as the two of them getting caught by the strange man—she only prayed nothing nefarious came of their conversation. In front of the Slocum’s Joe, she busied herself with pulling her gloves back on while Nick watched.

“So that’s Deacon,” he said—a statement, rather than a question. His eyebrows were raised, expression one of mild disbelief. “Not what I expected.”

“Kind of hard to describe a walking question mark, Nick,” Madelyn replied with a low laugh. “He could also qualify as an asterisk. Maybe one of those squiggly accent lines.”

Nick smiled, the mirth in his expression worrying her a little. “I take it the job went well?”

Madelyn hesitated, wondering how much he had seen inside the donut shop. “Very.”

“Suppose there’s competition for being your partner then,” he responded in a playful tone.

“Hardly,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I work for the agency. The Railroad isn’t paying me. Unless you count vague lessons on the importance of trust and intuition as currency.” She patted Nick on the shoulder and flashed an over-zealous smile. “Deacon has got nothin’ compared to you.”

The detective laughed, shaking his head. “So that’s why he calls you Charmer.”

Madelyn balked at what Nick was insinuating. “It’s a codename. Mysterious, don’t you think?”

“Fitting,” he countered, looking like she had told him some hilarious joke. “The two of you are getting along then?”

She realized that perhaps Nick had brought her outside for ulterior motives. Shouldn’t they be discussing what her and Deacon found rather than their rapport? She sighed, deflecting with a shrug. “I can get along with anybody. He’s tolerable, I suppose. He’s incredibly strange, and talks in riddles, and I really need to explain that he doesn’t have to try so hard to get me to laugh—”

Why’d she say that last part for? She broke off, feeling unnerved by the way Nick was looking at her, expression soft with a knowing smile. Madelyn felt her face grow hot despite the chill of the Boston winter air. She avoided his eyes, glancing towards the glass windowpane of the diner where she could just make out Deacon and Jenny sitting, laughing over something. Her thoughts betrayed her—but he’s pretty good at making me laugh, and he isn’t that bad to look at—she shook her head sharply, chasing the idea away.

“If I could make an observation,” Nick started, hesitantly. His hand rested on her shoulder, catching her attention. “I haven’t seen you so chatty and bright in a long time. Not since—”

Madelyn’s mood shifted dramatically, and she frowned up at her friend. “Since what, Nick?”

He winced, knowing he misspoke. In true Valentine fashion, he rebounded as well as he could. “It’s a good look, Madelyn.”

This is why she didn’t get close to new people—it only caused a myriad of confusing emotions. In spite of the turbulence she felt, deep down she knew Nick had a point. One she didn’t feel like admitting to yet, but a point, nonetheless. Her newfound partnership with Deacon—one she had resisted at first—had been surprisingly natural. Too natural, apparently. Now, she felt even more conflicted, and the guilt she’d been carrying around for more than a year threatened to flood her senses.

She put on a brave face, like she always did. “Thank you.”

Nick grimaced, breathing out in defeat. She knew he meant well, but the timing still wasn’t right for her. Her happiness was important, yes, but so was the job. They had bigger proverbial fish to fry. Just when she thought to speak on what they’d found beneath the Slocum’s Joe, Jenny’s jovial laugher echoed out into the Boston streets. Deacon followed behind her, boisterous as he retold some wild tale about spying for the agency in Scollay Square. They approached, unaware of the lingering tension in the air.

“I like him,” Jenny mused, nuzzling herself up to Nick’s side as she grasped his hand.

Madelyn found Deacon beside her, but showed some restraint and did not reach out to touch her in any way. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it—pushing the fleeting thoughts away as he flashed her a smirk. “Everybody likes me. Isn’t that right, Charmer?”

“Careful,” she chided in a playful tone, if only to keep the atmosphere light. “You’ll start to sound like a jelly-filled donut.”

The group laughed, and with a quick glance to the detective, he took the cue from Madelyn. “Are you heading home? I can drive you there on the way to Jenny’s hospital shift.”

If she had to guess, if only for a moment, Deacon looked disappointed as he dug for his own keys from the never-ending void that was his coat pockets. No doubt he knew where she lived, but a little voice in her head was telling her that it was time to depart for today and regroup later. Much later—after she’d had some time to think and recharge—and go over that hastily scribbled list of pros and cons again.

“Yes, thank you,” she agreed, turning to face her Railroad companion as Nick escorted Jenny to his parked Cadillac nearby. Madelyn hoped to end their interaction on a positive note. “Would you call today successful?”    

Deacon smiled as he nodded, patting his coat where he had tucked the documents away. “We got what we came for. Its best we split up and meet back at the church.”

She silently agreed but didn’t move right away to catch up with the others. Even though she had just mentally reprimanded herself, she couldn’t let herself walk away without speaking the truth. “We make a good team.”  

“The best,” he replied, delighted by her comment. He nodded, tipping his hat slightly. “See you soon, Charmer.” 

Back in the comfort of her apartment, Madelyn spent most of the evening the same way she had spent the weekend—pacing in a nervous line from her kitchen to her couch, from her couch to the hallway and everywhere in between. She had added more notes, scribbled thoughts and emotions to her Railroad List, reading them over and over as she poured generously from her whiskey bottle with each refill. Even with all the new additions after her escapade at the Switchboard, there was one glaring omission.

Deacon.

Just thinking of the man made her feel uneasy, and not for the paranoid reasons she once held. No, that would be far easier. Instead, she was frustrated by how easily he had gotten past her defenses, knocking down the perfectly built walls she had put up around her heart and mind ever since Christmas 1956. She was capable of being a bubbly, charming person—but it wasn’t supposed to happen so quickly, especially with a practical stranger. Especially with somebody she wasn’t sure she could trust. Wasn’t that what he had been trying to teach her in the first place?  

Nick and Jenny’s observations only made matters worse. In the end, Madelyn only felt conflicted and a compounding amount of guilt—like she had somehow betrayed Nate by letting somebody, anybody get under her skin. Regardless of what Nick, or any of her friends said, she was sure that she didn’t deserve that kind of happiness—not when her late husband’s murderer was still free.

Dogmeat whined, intuitive to her emotions, and she sought comfort in petting the dog, beckoning him to follow her down the hallway so they could get some sleep after a long day. As she passed through the hall, she double backed to the open storage closet, peering inside, just as she had done on Christmas day. Instead of continuing on however, a strange compulsion to inspect the large, dusty box in the corner came over her. The last present she’d ever received from Nate, left unwrapped and hidden for her discover in the garage of the home they once shared. A General Atomics logo was plastered atop the box and below it in white cursive letters read, Mister Handy. Dogmeat shuffled between her legs to get a better look.

“What do you think, boy?” she asked. “Should we open the box?”

He barked, signifying his approval. After the weekend she’d had, perhaps it was time to activate the robot. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a Mister Handy around to help, as her husband had intended. If anything, the extra company—even one built on artificial intelligence—would do her some good. Still, the action would prove to be a large step in the so-called grieving process. Dogmeat barked again, and she focused, steadying herself as she began lifting the flaps.

Curiously, the manufacturers seal had already been broken. As soon as the box was opened, Madelyn knew why—atop the shiny surface of the robot was an envelope. In Nate’s distantly familiar handwriting were two words: Hi Honey! Her entire body seized up as she let out a quiet sob, suddenly overwhelmed. Through clouded eyes, she pulled the box out of the closet and into the hallway, carefully tipping it over so she could extract the heavy metal frame of the deactivated Mister Handy unit. She sat on the carpet next to the robot, Dogmeat sniffing at the metallic surface as she carefully opened the letter from Nate.

Maddie,

I’ve been thinking a lot about our future, thinking about the possibility of welcoming a child into our lives. Lord knows I’ve been having fun trying for one—practice makes perfect, right? I’ve also been thinking about all the preparations we’ve made for building our family: the crib, the tiny clothes, even joking about potential names. It sounds foolish but even one child, one little life created with you would be enough, no matter how long it takes.

I know you’re a fiercely independent and modern woman who likes to take care of herself, but with our plans to grow our family, I was thinking we could use an extra hand. Or three. Regardless of ol’ Codsworth here, I know you will be an amazing mother.

I love you so much. You are my best friend and my saving grace. The first and last thing I think about in the morning and at night. You have made me so incredibly happy. If I should die tomorrow, I’d die a happy man.

-Nate

PS: Did you know twins run in my family?

Reading his words left a new kind of pain in her heart, a fresh reminder of the plans they had before his life had been cut short. How prophetic of him, to leave such a statement about his assumed death. Madelyn wasn’t sure when the note was written, but it had to have been shortly before that fateful night in Boston Common. With his letter were the General Atomic factory instructions, along with more of Nate’s handwritten scribbles indicating which steps she could skip and simple hacks—a cheat sheet from beyond the pale.

After twisting the upper chassis, she found and pressed the activation button until the robot whirled back to life with a series of beeps and garbled words. Almost immediately it was floating midair, eye-sensors adjusting to its environment. Madelyn stood to be as level as she could with the unit, the way it hovered allowed the machinery to tower over her. Her reflection was distorted in the shiny surface of the Mister Handy as she stared at it, suddenly wondering if this had been a good idea after all.

“You must be Mrs. James,” the robot declared joyously, his three metal arms spinning as if to express that delight, barely missing her body. “I am Codsworth. Your new butler. Oh, how wonderful it is to finally meet you. Sir has spoken so much—”

She couldn’t help the strangled gasp of a cry that escaped her, snapping a hand over her mouth to prevent further disruptions. Hearing this robot—Codsworth—speak so casually as if nothing was amiss made reality come crashing down around her all over again. He floated a little closer.

“Have I upset you, mum?” Codsworth asked in a sullen tone.

Madelyn shook her head in earnest, wiping away her tears on the sleeve of her dress. “No, of course not. Codsworth honey,” she sniffled, baffled by her own term of endearment for the Mister Handy unit. Perhaps the overly posh British accent had gotten to her. But now came the awkward explanation of telling a robot that his master was long dead. “It isn’t you. You should know that…Mr. James is no longer with us.”

“Oh, where has he gone off to?”

She closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t have to be so blunt. “He’s dead, Codsworth. Died before he could gift you to me.”

Expressionless, mechanical eyes ‘blinked’ back at her, processing what she had just said. “Well, I’m here now, mum,” he spoke. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Sir was so kind when activating me and said so many lovely things about you,” his tone shifted to one of determination. “I look forward to fulfilling the duties I was meant to, if you’ll allow.”

As silly as Madelyn felt to be comforted by a floating Mister Handy unit, she couldn’t help but smile at his words. In a gesture of kindness, she placed her hand against his metal frame, wondering if he—or the wires in his mainframe that made up his personality—understood. It would take some adjustment, but she could get used to having a disembodied voice in her home—the thought made her smile even more.

“Of course, Codsworth,” she agreed. Madelyn released a breath and felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. This had been a long time coming. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you too.”

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Paper Girl

Genre: wlw, mystery, slice of life urban fantasy

Words: 25k

Summary: A paper girl, a wealthy neighborhood, and a strange house. Seiko Toyomi starts her job at the crack of dawn and then does her sleeping on the morning bus, in between she interacts with a strange young girl that never seems to leave her house.

Seiko unexpectedly starts to befriend the girl and begins to wonder more and more: who is she? Why does no one know her? And is she trapped?

A love story of newspapers, front porches, and growing up together

Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress⭐Twitter ⭐ Wattpad ⭐ Ao3

There was a house up on Townsend Street. A house with wedding-cake frosting trims and big white oak doors, a massive yard with room for three dogs but no dog in sight. It had a blue-grey exterior and thick green hedges perfectly trimmed in a square around the whole property. White daffodils bloomed in the numerous flower boxes and kaleidoscope bird feeders hung from the porch. The type of bird feeders even thieving squirrels looked at and said: no way guys, we can’t touch those ones.

A proper wrought iron fence hugged the hedges, dark, with ornate swoops and swirls at each bend, opening only once at an enormous double-gate. It was also dark iron and more decorative than practical, filled with large gaps and flowery designs, like out of some sort of story book. Seiko called it the ‘fairy gate’ in her head, holding her breath and crossing her fingers as she walked under the arch each time.

Everything was big there, big and quiet and filled with a hushed kind of luxury, it didn’t announce itself, but it was a living heartbeat that strangled everything else with it.

It was that type of street. A street with no cracks in the smooth grey sidewalks and cars with wax finishes and busybody mothers that yelled at her when she accidently walked on a lawn. Seiko didn’t mean to walk on the grass, she promised Mrs. Hankla it was only once and only since she was in a bit of a hurry.

They called the enclave ‘Greenbriar Hill’ and the other delivery kids were jealous she was assigned there, nobody else got tips like her. But nobody else had to deal with the wedding-cake house either.

They didn’t have to deal with the young girl in the neat frilly pajamas and face that scrunched up like an upset paper bag, watching Seiko with an exacting spotlight gaze.

The girl waited outside the big white oak doors every morning like one of those dogs that fetched the paper for you, but not the doting golden retriever type. More like a trimmed poodle, with it’s curls primped and perfumed with utmost care before it was walked. Or squatted next to a fire hydrant.

She looked around Seiko’s age, no more than 11, standing outside each morning in pink fluffy pajamas that fell past her knees and a pressed white bow. Her thick blonde hair was carefully curled and hung just above her shoulder tops, loose corkscrew curls that bounced when she moved. She had dark eyes the color of royal blue ink or sunless ocean waters, dark and ready to storm.

She had pinched cheeks and a little mouth, making her eyes seem even bigger on her small face and delicate features. Most strikingly was how pale she was, pale as unmarked parchment or bleached bone, like the dry skeleton of a hare Seiko saw once on a trip to Arizona: bare and stripped, a little chilling.

She was as pale as burnt ash and almost as worrying, like a sickly victorian child you thought to give cough syrup to. Or holy water.

Seiko wasn’t expecting to see anyone her age outside this early, the sun was barely up and Seiko’s arms were goose-fleshing from the chilly breeze. She had worn her short-sleeve Lego Batman t-shirt for her first day, making sure everyone saw it at least once since she spent her allowance and then some on the thing.

And now she was sitting on her bike in someone’s huge driveway with a little girl in pink staring fiercely back at her lego-shirt and shivering arms.

The girl glanced down at a leather wristwatch as if Seiko was late, what kind of kid had a leather wristwatch? Seiko plucked a newspaper out from her sack and hopped gingerly forward.

“Good morning miss,” that sounded like the right thing to say. She smiled, “It’s gonna be a beautiful day.” The girl reached out and snatched the newspaper from Seiko’s hands, “it’s going to rain.” She said flatly back and her blonde curls danced in place. “You’re new. What’s your name?” Seiko blinked a couple times, taken back. “Seiko. Seiko Toyomi, nice to meet you?” She wasn’t sure if she should put her hand out to shake, like a sales transaction or charged mob-boss greeting like she saw in movies.

“Well, Seiko,” the girl said tartly, “don’t leave the gate open next time, it’s a hazard.” Seiko’s eyes went huge and she frowned, “It’s my first day.” The girl arched her eyebrows pointedly over at the end of the lawn and Seiko followed her gaze, she had, indeed, left the gate open behind her. Seiko had a few snappy words trapped behind her tongue about the girl’s attitude.

“Annalise!” A voice called from inside the house, “Annalise! Did you get it?” “Yes mom,” the girl turned around, only sparing one last look behind her. “Don’t forget the gate. And,” she paused, “thank you for the paper.” She said stiffly. “Here.” She handed Seiko her tip and it all felt like some sort of dream Seiko was walking through, with  rich girls in sleeping wear sliding her balled up five dollar bills from her tight fists. She half-expected to see a large white swan walk out from behind the bushes to grant her wishes.

“Thanks,” Seiko piped up, blinking. “Have a nice day.” The girl, Annalise, just waved and shut the door behind her. “Don’t forget about the rain.” Seiko turned around to hide her eye-roll and jumped back on her bike, maybe money could buy giant yards and fancy bikes with more than one speed. But apparently it couldn’t buy manners. It did rain that day though, and every day after.

Seiko remembered it vividly, like an omen.

—————–

Seiko got up at 5:45am, just like her mom instructed, bolting upright with the first beep of her alarm clock and jumping into her sneakers. She had slept in her jeans and fuzzy orange sweater, her mom didn’t know about that part.

But it was Seiko’s second day of work and she wasn’t going to mess it up, she already got briefly yelled at for knocking over someone’s lawn gnome and delivering someone’s paper bent in half. Most people smiled and waved and handed her a dollar or two, but those two other encounters stuck in her mind like a sharpened pencil. It wouldn’t happen again.

The apartment was dark and soundless at that hour, almost seeming taboo, Seiko was careful to walk heel-toe down the hall and only turn on one light. She ended up stuffing a single piece of bread in her mouth and then hurrying out the door, groggy and wired as a dorm room outlet. She left ten minutes earlier than she needed to, whirring over Mr. Simmons shop and grinning from ear to ear the whole way on her bike.

Rogers, Illinois was a small town, small enough that people liked their papers hand-delivered and Mr. Simmons was old-fashioned and idyllic enough to hire kids to do it. It built character he said, tightened the community, somehow was unquestioned under ‘child labor laws.’ That sort of thing.

Seiko skidded to a halt in front of the corner shop, waving, “Hey Mr. Simmons!” She put her hand out, “Here for the Greenbriar route.” Mr. Simmons was out front moving boxes and fastening shut large sacks, bulging with rolled up papers. They were white with one thick strap for your shoulder and the words ‘Local Business Proud’ printed on the side.

Mr. Simmons handed her the far one, “Remember we’re having a pizza party this Friday,” he sounded properly awake and bright, “It’ll be the first one for the whole team.” Mr. Simmons was young, still graying around the temples and nearly blind in one eye, a traditionalist in the sense of people who forget what tradition is.

“Thanks Mr. Simmons, I’ll remember,” she grinned and waved, kicking off from the curb. “See you!” She streaked away, ready to prove herself in all her 10-year-old glory and with the energy of a newly-broken glow stick.

She pedaled hard, making little grunts as she pushed herself up the hill to Greenbriar, sweating despite the sweet fall chill in the air. The neighborhood was graveyard-still when she arrived, cold and blurry-eyed. She grinned, reaching two-story sprawling houses and carefully placing papers face-up in their slim plastic bags, like neatly wrapped Christmas morning presents.

She didn’t knock over any lawn gnomes this time.

Seiko was breathing hard, but in a good way, in the way that made her feel like she just answered a question right in class or did a perfect high-five. The wedding-cake house was in the middle house of her route, slightly removed from the other ones. Seiko closed the gate quickly behind her when she arrived and latched it tightly just in case.

It was earlier this time, no hint of sun on the horizon under the lumpy morning clouds and no sound of bird calls at all. The girl in pink pajamas was waiting for her.

Seiko waved, “I closed the gate!” She sang and jumped off her bike to hurry forward, “I’m even early.” Annalise looked her up and down and then nodded, just as pale and otherworldly as before. “Good.” Annalise put her hand out, “the other boy always used to forget anyway.” Seiko picked her way up the driveway, she smiled amiably. “Hey, do you go to Bristol Elementary school? Or Canyon Creek? I bet it’s Canyon.” The girl frowned at her, wiggling her fingers in midair for the paper, “Seiko Toyomi,” she sounded like she was prying the name off a burning skillet. “You go to Bristol.” Seiko nodded quickly, “Yeah, Bristol, how do you know that? Do you go there?” She hopped up and down, then stopped with a frown, “Probably not.” She would have seen her in the school halls if she did.

“Put rain boots on tomorrow,” Annalise fluffed her curling hair, “It will be worse.” She took the paper from her briskly. “Thank you for your service.” She handed her another large bill.

Seiko was still staring at her as she closed the door and another voice called as before, “Anna, dear, bring the tea over too.”

“Coming!” What kind of girl was this?

Seiko pulled her hood up as it began to drizzle, turning away and putting the oddness of it out of sight and out of mind. She slept on the bus on her way to school that morning and dreamt of poodles eating her bike tires and barking at her.

—————

The entire week continued like that: Seiko pedaling her heart out and trying to prove herself to some unknown entity that judged ten-year-olds on their job performance. Biking, delivering, and having snatches of conversation with early-waking exercise nuts, bathrobe-fathers with bags under their eyes, and old people ready to complain about the morning’s headlines.

And the girl. The strange girl.

She was chastising and brisk, reminding Seiko of the crabby middle-aged manager at the local CVS who always yelled at Seiko for picking up half the candy section and then only ever buying one. She reminded her of the blonde news-anchor lady who was always angry at the local politicians. She reminded her of someone who definitely had never seen the Lego Batman movie and never would.

Seiko only found out a little more about the sharp and secretive girl on the last day of the week: the friday pizza party. It stopped raining that day.

—-

“Does she have like, warts on her hands?”

“Or blood on the doorframe? For warding off the evil eye or something.”

“Tell me she has a raven that caws at you when you enter.”

“Why would I go inside?” Seiko pushed away the face of a bug-eyed boy with too many freckles and a whistle when he talked through the gap in his teeth. The other kid’s crowded around her in turn.

“Does she have roses in her garden?” A mousy girl with straight black hair and the voice of a tiny cricket asked her a little dreamily. “That never wilt or die. I bet they’re beautiful.”

“Tell me her mother tips you in crystals or astrology calendars or something.” June, a bright-eyed redhead, contributed excitably. “I’ve never seen the mom,” Seiko shook her head, “Only the daughter. And they don’t have roses.” Katy, the mousy girl, wilted at that. Katy was slightly chubby, stout, and skittish, always looking ready to apologize or sink into the floor like a self-effacing puddle.

Bobby Isler, the bug-eyed boy, frowned “Or blood?” “Or blood.” “Aww,” June slumped down, vivid red ponytail bobbying in place, she was a tall girl in baggy overalls and chipped fingernails each painted a different color. She grumbled, “That’s so lame.” She poked her pizza with one finger. “Are you even looking?” Seiko rolled her eyes and took a bite of her own luke-warm pepperoni pizza, Mr. Simmons had left them alone to ‘enjoy themselves’ as he explained with a wink. He thought they were talking about crushes or weed or whatever he assumed kids talk about.

They were not talking about weed.

“It’s not like that. It’s normal. Ish,” she looked away and scratched her nose, “Why are you all so interested in it? She’s seriously not a witch.”

Bobby poked her, “Nuh-uh. Don’t you watch channel 7?” He squinted at her, “How out of the loop are you?” They all stare at her, Seiko jutted her jaw out fiercely, “Me? You’re the ones,” she huffed, “you’re the ones who are losing it. She’s just a lady and her snooty daughter.” “I didn’t know she had a daughter,” Katy said slowly. “She never mentions it. That’s nice to know though.” Seiko blew stray dark hairs out of her eyes, she had cut it short for the new school year and immediately regretted it. It kept getting in her face.

“Yeah, well, she does. And she’s bratty,” she sniffed loudly, “and we don’t get channel 7, my mom says it’s rubbish.” “Rubbish,” June repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth and rubbing her nose, “are you doing that phony British accent again?” Seiko’s cheeks flushed red, June was in her fifth grade class and she had a long memory. Seiko looked away and took a huge bite of her pizza, “That was only for a little! SO long ago June.” June snickered and looked at the others, “she pretended to have British accent for all of 4th grade, and not even a good one.” “It was only for a month!” Seiko retorted sharply, “barely three weeks.” June laughed again, “it was the worst.” Bobby laughed loudly and Katy looked away politely, like this was some embarrassing family affair where the aunt took her shoes off and threw them at your rotten Uncle Shou for smoking and tipping the pretty waitress too much.

Katy cleared her throat, “She’s the only psychic in town, I watch her every night.” She met Seiko’s eyes, “I’m going to get my love line read by her.” She nodded astutely, like it was set in stone and the only obvious path ahead. Katy was also the oldest of them, just turned 13, and that made an impression in Seiko’s head.

Or at least, it had. She wrinkled her nose, “Love line?” She snorted, “That’s all bogus, she’s just a rich lady who reads off a teleprompter.” She shook her head, “That’s what my mom says.” Her mom had a lot of opinions.

“No way,” June crossed her arms over her chest, “She’s the real deal. She did Macy’s moms fortune on LIVE TELEVISION, she talked about future death in the family and Macy’s grandpa died the next week! She’s the real deal.” Madame Catherine Lynne (or just Madame Lynne) was a local television personality who told people’s fortune on channel seven, several small-town legends had sprung up around her since. With her huge glasses, elbow-length gloves, long evening gowns and deep resounding voice, they called her everything from a genuine black-magic witch to an elaborate hack.

“I just deliver her papers,” Seiko grumbled into her soda, “I didn’t even know that was her house.” Which was true, it was just another fancy house in a row of fancy houses.

“Well, that’s our favorite space case for you,” June reached for Seiko to give her one of her signature noogie’s.

Seiko pushed her way, “And our favorite terrible busy-body.” They exchanged a number of kicks under the table until Katy put her hands down, “Let me know if you see the Madame.” She said in a small but firm voice, “Ask her if she’s gotten letters from a Katy Mendoza. I’ve been,” she struggled, face blooming red as she realized they were all staring at her now. “I’ve been writing…” She ended weakly.

Seiko frowned, there was so much earnestness in the other girl’s face, almost desperate. Seiko puffed her chest out, “I will, I promise.”

They all sat back in their chairs and Seiko stifled a yawn as the music of the pizza parlour swelled. She was ready to leave by then, still tired from waking up at around 5am all week- her father joked about how this is what it felt like being a real worker. She’s not sure she wanted it.

Seiko sucked on her soda until only the grating sound of ice and backwash was left. She spoke up again after a long moment, “Do any of you know if an Annalise Lynne goes to Canyon Creek? That’s the daughter.” They all just exchanged blank looks with each other, Bobby was the first to shrug, “Like I said, I didn’t even know she had a daughter.” Seiko frowned at that, but June sighed exaggeratedly, “I bet she goes to some fancy private school.” She waved her hand in the air, eyes drifting down, “Did you get a new sticker on your bag Seiko?” She changed the subject, “Do you even know who Daft Punk is?”

Seiko turned on her, “Of course I do, and for your information…” The night continued on, bickering and talking and listening to cheesy pizza parlour tunes.

Seiko never found out where Annalise went to school, or if she went to school at all.

——————–

She looks so lonely.

Another blurry, creeping day hit Seiko with long grasping fingers, yanking her out of bed with a groan. She rubbed her eyes, trying to fight through the thin spiderwebs criss-crossing her headspace as she lumbered around the apartment at 5 in the morning.

The first week of Seiko’s new job slipped quickly by and by the second and third she was getting tired, more tired than she thought she could be.

Her dad, once again, told her that ‘this is what being a real working person felt like.’ The joke was getting old. She barely remembered leaving the house and getting to the corner shop, it was all getting old.

Seiko drove her boke dutifully up the hill to Greenbriar, the weather had been getting cooler with each week as Illinois winter bore down, but that day was the exception. It was going to erratically climb up into the high 60s and shine all day, but that was weather for you.

Seiko was barely cognate of her regular route, pedal, place, pedal, wave, accept two dollars, keep going. She didn’t think it would become so rote so fast, but it was just as mindless as her friend Kingsley warned.

He was always warning her about something though, she’d call it a downright nervous disorder if the spirit of one of her auntie’s wouldn’t materialize and pinch her cheek with a ‘be nice Seiko’ from beyond the grave.

She could be nice.

It was on that particularly warm fall day that Seiko was struck with a strange thought, a sticky hard thought that that caught in her mind like a thorn. She approached the wedding-cake house with the girl perched outside like an ever present stone guardian.

She looks so lonely.

It echoed within her.

Seiko wouldn’t call herself particularly perceptive, but that didn’t stop her from looking the girl up and down. She made a stunning pale silhouette against the enormous house with the air of an-fashioned heroine waiting for her family to return from the war.

It’s all so lonely.

Seiko shook her head vigorously, she’s a rich, pretty girl, she’ll be more than fine.

Seiko took the paper out immediately and shuffled up to the house, “Hiya,” she spoke up, remembering herself. “Good morning.”

Annalise’s brow knit together, “good morning.” Seiko shifted from foot to foot, holding the paper aloft. There was another thing she was working up to, maybe this was the right moment. Seiko could be nice. And maybe Annalise would like the conversation.

“So,” she cleared her throat, shifting from side to side. “I have thing.”

Annalise arched an eyebrow up, “What thing?” She asked testily, “Did you rip the paper?”

“No!” Seiko lifted her chin up proudly, “It’s not about papers. I was just wondering,” she took a deep breath in, deciding to do this now. “Have you seen any letters from a Katy Mendoza?” “Who?” Annalise took a step back, wary and eyeing her.

“Katy Mendoza. She writes you letters, I mean, she writes your mom.” She felt the sting of awkwardness rubbing against her skin. Annalise was looking at her like she was growing another head- and that head was ugly. This was a bad idea.

Annalise’s sharp blue eyes penetrated her like a swear word in church: echoing and harsh. Annalise cleared her throat, “We get many letters.”

“She’s my friend,” Seiko went on, “She wants to have her love line read. She’s into that sort of thing, she’s thinks she’ll never find love or something and that Madame Lynne, your mom, can help I guess.” Annalise was still frowning, as if perplexed by a certain math problem or stubborn weed. She put her hand out for the paper, Seiko reluctantly handed it over, wilting in place. That hadn’t gone well.

“Thank you for the paper,” Annalise handed her five dollars. “Have a good day.” Seiko wanted to bury her face in the perfectly manicured grass, what was I thinking? She doesn’t even want to talk to me in general, much less do favors.

Seiko turned to flee to her bike and pedal until her thighs burned away her own fumbling mouth and unnecessary probing.

“And Seiko,” Seiko stopped in place, Annalise hadn’t closed the door yet, voice chasing her. “I will look for your friend’s letter. I won’t forget.” She said, voice measured and whispery. She closed the door swiftly afterward, before Seiko could add anything else.

“Thanks,” Seiko stared blankly back at the large white oak doors and latched golden handles.

Sometimes she thought she saw Annalise watching her from the second story window, stony and frozen in place, hand gently touching the window and following her. Other times she thought it was just her brain conjuring up tales in her head, the type with snow queen’s daughters and fairy gates.

She rode her bicycle away, this whole place is lonely.

The empty lawns and gated homes and featureless driveways go on and on and Seiko wished for a moment she wasn’t a working girl, that she was still in bed waiting for the morning to come.

——————

Life went on.

She was graduating fifth grade that year and it couldn’t have felt like a bigger deal, would she follow her friends to Bristol Middle School or go to the local charter school, Elmswood?

Elmswood had a better reputation, bigger cafeteria, and a soccer team who actually made to the state championships. Then of course some Chicago school would immediately bump them out of state championships, but they still made it all the same.

Seiko wasn’t very good at sticking to sports, or hobbies for that matter, but she was pretty excited for soccer this year. The early-morning biking helped her stamina and game play, the fact she couldn’t actually kick the ball in any desired direction did not.

But Liza Mayweather was captain of the team and she was 5 feet 5 inches of the ‘coolest girl’ Seiko knew. Liza was going to Elmswood.

But then Seiko would have to leave Kingsley, her best friend since kindergarten. They met on the first day, traded chocolate puddings, chased a bouncy ball around for two hours straight together, and had been inseparable ever since. It was a hard choice and wasn’t getting any easier.

Seiko kept her paper route, even as the weather turned for the worse and she already had enough money saved up to buy at the very least a second hand Switch. However, things in the neighbor simply became more and more habitual, familiar.

The people in the brown house had a Saint Bernard named Nooky who was possibly the best creature ever, he gave a world ending ‘boof’ whenever he saw her and Seiko’s heart soared. Mrs. Hankla let her pet him some days.

Several of the houses had outdoor cats who appeared on high fences, fancy-feast enthusiasts who would eye you from afar and daintily get closer and closer each week. She named the white one ‘General Sour Cream’ and the calico one ‘Grand Duchess Granola.’ They were in love.

Less people jogged in the winter, more people greeted her with sleep-crusted eyes and a quick ‘are you alright sweetheart?’

Two different people offered her new gloves to wear. She already had gloves.

Seiko learned about the girl too.

Annalise changed from her pink pajamas to a loose long-sleeved top and soft matching black bottoms. She liked tea, because of course she did, she didn’t like the neighbors mowing their lawns, she liked Seiko’s rainbow fingerless gloves. Or at least, Seiko hoped she did since Annalise kept glancing at them.

Annalise could play the piano, she got headaches easily, and thought anyone who woke up past eight O’Clock had simply already given up on life. She knew name brands, hated fast-fashion, and ran her own ‘Plastic Reduction’ eco-education home page. She gave Seiko a sticker for it.

And that was it.

Seiko assumed there wasn’t anything more to it, and then it was February.

————

Snow fell in wallops of sticky cold droplets that hit unwitting citizens like frigid water balloons from above, half-ice and half-slushy it might as well have been the devil pissing on them. That’s what one of the older kids said on the bus yesterday when it first started.

Seiko repeated it to Kingsley who joined her in giggling into their hands like they said it themselves.

Seiko expected school to be closed the next day, she expected the roads to be shut down and people to be banned from the outdoors like some sort of dangerous zoo enclosure. She expected to drink hot chocolate in bed and watch youtube videos of ‘how it’s made’ all day.

Her alarm rang at 5:45 am anyway. The people needed their news, they needed that fresh headline: It’s Cold as a Witch’s teat in a Brass Bra. Seiko had learned that one on the bus too.

She hadn’t missed a day of work so far and she, for reasons beyond herself, wasn’t going to start now. Her uncle had bought her new boots for her birthday: fur-trimmed with little puff-balls at the end of the shoelaces, he told her to break them in nice and easy. This would have to be the ‘mean and hard’ way instead.

She put on two pairs of socks underneath and went to the doorway.

She stuffed on her oversized ewok hat, a joke-present she got before she turned 11 and too old for that sort of thing. But it was as thick as siberian’s arm hair and the little ears made her feel a little bolder in the furious white morning.

“Where are you going Seiko?” Her mom was also up at 5am, always claiming to be busy with Seiko’s little sister Rei at this hour, but Rei was 2 by then and barely up any more. Their dad swore their mom had insomnia, but her mom would be in her grave before she admitted to that sort of thing.

She looked at Seiko’s fluffy hat and pretended to be busy folding kitchen rags.

“Work mom,” she adjusted her hat and found a large fleece scarf to wrap around her neck.

Her mom sniffed, “Don’t ride your bike.” “I can’t,” Seiko blinked with a grumble, “Too bad out.” “And don’t talk to strangers.” “When do I ever talk to strangers mom?” Seiko retorted with a yawn and a prickle behind her words.

Her mom patted her shoulder, “I’m making leftovers for breakfast. Take a hot shower when you’re back, school isn’t canceled.” “I knoooow,” she moaned and went for the door. “And don’t move my backpack. I got stuff in there and I keep not being able to find it.” “Then don’t leave it where I can kick it.” “Ugh,” she made a face, “bye mom.”

Seiko left before they could get into one of their regular squabbles, the weather didn’t help since Seiko always felt like they were living on top of each other when they got snowed-in. Her family’s apartment was fine, everything worked and the pipes never froze, but it was… tight. It had three rooms, one bathroom, and a tucked away kitchen with no oven. But it was fine, it had a carpet that didn’t static and an outside not completely overcome by hobos or nettles.

It was on the second story of a red-brick apartment building that had a bent TV dish outside and rusty skateboards piling up on the side. The building’s heating worked most the time and the air conditioning worked some of the time.

Between the weeds growing up between cracks and the convenience store that sold cigarettes to anyone not carrying a pacifier, it was fine, everything was fine. Walking over to Greenbriar on the other hand though was crossing between ‘fine’ to the ‘fairygate.’

Seiko collected her wares at the corner shop, Mr. Simmons applauded her for coming in at all and handed her two hot packs for her hands. She didn’t say much back, she didn’t know why she was there either.

She skimmed the paper’s headline: It’s Cold. So Cold, Father Winter is Definitely Passing a Particularly Frigid Gallstone Over Us. Seiko traveled slowly into the fairy hills, covered in powdery white sugar and untouched by the bustling of other determined worker ants, blithely ignoring the coming slush and grime of the town’s roads and sidewalks.

Seiko trudged onward. She forgot her hands, her feet, and everything else in between as she walked, shivered, and delivered.

——

“Attagirl,” Mr. Busby of the brown house and fake teeth handed her a five. He had never done that before. “Good see the youth off their phones and actually doing something.” Seiko just nodded in response and mutely moved to the next house. The street wound on in a dusty blaring-white monotony, almost no one was up to greet her as she placed one plastic-wrapped paper down after the next.

She wasn’t at all surprised to find Annalise Lynne outside when she reached the wedding-cake house. Strangely though, the other girl wasn’t in her usual position next to the door, safe and dry with the usual impassive look on her face.

Seiko’s eyebrows rose, Annalise was bent over the edge of her concrete porch, squinting out at her snowy domain. She had pink boots stuffed over her feet and a yellow umbrella shielding her from the onslaught of slushy snow from up above.

She was bundled up underneath the umbrella and looking nervously at the ground, lips pinched together and expression shadowed, whole body as tense as a stretched rubber band.

Seiko tilted her head to the side, pausing for a long second. Annalise shifted in place, worry-lines permeating her young face.

“Uh,” Seiko hurried up the girl’s vast driveway, “How’s it going Annalise?” Her voice sounded rusted and stiff to her own ears as she asked.

Annalise blinked up, her expression noticeably strained. “Nothing,” she murmured quietly and then looked back to the snowbanks, clutching the umbrella. She glanced up unseeingly, “You must be cold.” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Yeah.” She scratched her chin, “It’s cold.” Seiko just nodded, sniffing slightly, “The last boy would never come in weather like this.” Her gaze was still trained away from her. “Thank you for your service.” Whenever she said that Seiko felt like a war veteran being thanked at an airport by a white woman who bought in bulk from costco. She just nodded again.

“Is… everything okay? Do you need,” Seiko searched the ground, “Help?” She offered weakly since it seemed like the thing to do.

Annalise finally looked up again, “I’m capable of handling it,” she clutched the umbrella and reached absently up to her ear. There was a small empty hole there. She frowned, “But…” She met her eyes briefly, “if you see a blue diamond earring then, well,” she bit her lip, “let me know.” Seiko journeyed the little way up to the side of the porch, the overhang finally protecting her from the soggy snowfall. “Blue earring?” Annalise nodded shallowly, barely tilting her head down, “it looks like a snowdrop.” Her hands bleached on the umbrella handle, “and my mom’s going to freaking kill me for losing it.” Seiko stood up straight at that statement, the words strangely out of place and striking. My mom’s going to freaking kill me. What?

“Hey, watch my papers,” Seiko pushed her pack toward the dry doorway. “I once found my sister’s binky in a playground ball pit.”

Annalise looked up sharply, “Seiko Toyomi, I can’t,” she said quickly, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Seiko made a face at her, “You can just call me Seiko,” she wrinkled her nose, “and it’s not a big deal, honest. Did you lose it around here?” Annalise looked away, cheeks burning a bland red, like her face wasn’t accustomed to any color at all. “Maybe…” She said slowly, “Last night I went out here to look at the snowfall and,” She said haltingly and felt at her ear, “When I woke up this morning I realized I didn’t have one of my earrings. Ugh.” She growled in the back of her throat, “Stupid, stupid. She’ll be so mad.” Seiko cocked her eyebrows up, “When does your mom normally wake up?” Annalise frowned, “She had a late show last night,” her shoulders relaxed, “So she’ll be out for at least a little longer, maybe even 7:30.” Seiko smiled, “Alright!” She hopped into the nearest snow pile, sinking into the layering ice and sleet. “Let’s get looking.” Annalise watched her carefully, “… Thank you.” She spoke softly, clearly, searching Seiko’s face for a moment before nodding, “Check by the flower bed.” Annalise leaned off the stoop and pointed, “It would be somewhere close to the bottom.” Seiko got to work sifting through the piles of wet slush, her gloves soaking through and eyes straining against the pure white mass. “Are you sure it fell here?” “No,” Annalise pointed to her right, “check over there.” They hurried, Annalise pointing and Seiko kicking and churning her way around the yard.

“No, no, not there, that’s too far,” Annalise huffed after several minutes, breath coming out in puffy little clouds. She stood up in place, “This will take too long. One second, wait here.” Seiko looked up brightly, “What?” She cocked an eyebrow up at her, “Also, for the record, I’m doing this to be nice. Friendly. Polite, stop glaring at me.” “I’m not glaring,” Annalise snapped and looked to the door, “I’m just… frustrated.” She scuffed her boot on the ground and then looked back up, “I’m going to help. One second.” “Okay?” Seiko had figured Annalise was too delicate or soft or perfectly-moisturized to wade into the clingy snow with her and help dig. That’s what you hired paper girls for.

Annalise tossed her umbrella aside and swung open her house door, Seiko peaked into the dim foyer: huge and holding a grand staircase. Seiko just blinked at it as the other girl ran back inside.

Seiko told herself she was just being nice. It was the right thing to do. She wasn’t here to be a looky loo, especially since her mother would never let her live it down if she was. They weren’t the type of family to get fascinated by pop stars or celebrities or late night TV show psychics.

Or their strange daughters.

Seiko stood in the bitter wind, shivering slightly and glancing at her undelivered papers. They were all definitely late.

But maybe the neighbors would forgive her for a snow-storm delay.

Seiko watched the family’s big doors for another minute, waiting for something. Did Annalise abandon her to the cold and needle-in-a-haystack quest? Should she leave?

Just as she was thinking about getting her pack and being on her way, Annalise strode calmly back outside. Seiko stopped in place as she did, “Oh my God.”

Annalise lifted her chin with a sniff. “Don’t laugh.”

Annalise was wearing what looked like a plastic beekeepers helmet, yellow cleaning gloves secured by rubber bands, two winter coats covered by a teal rain jacket, and what looked like shiny waterproof ski pants. She even wore plastic bags over her winter boots- also secured by rubber bands.

Seiko ended up covering her mouth and snickering.

Annalise’s face glowed red, “I don’t like getting wet!”

Seiko laughed into her hands, “No, no, I get it.” She giggled, “It’s just… okay.” Annalise put her hands on her hips, “Are you here to help or make fun of me?” Seiko gave a cheeky grin, “Can I do both? Because… that’s a bee helmet.” Annalise tilted her chin up with a frown, “No, we’re not that familiar yet.” Seiko shrugged and bent down again, “How familiar does a newspaper girl and her house-deliverees have to be?”

“Well I’ll tell you when we’re there, then you can laugh I suppose.” Annalise shuffled forward, weighed down by her various clothes. “Though your assistance will be noted.” Seiko shrugged, “Don’t mention it.” Annalise teetered on the edge of her porch, looked closely at all the snow, like it was a freezing lake she was preparing herself to jump buck-naked into. Seiko gave her a funny look, “Are you waiting for something?” Annalise shot her an unreadable glance, unnervingly blank. Then she widened her stance, took a deep breath, exhaled, and did a short flailing hop into the snow.

She landed, hands out and eyes screwed shut, whole body star-fished out as if to keep everything away. She opened her eyes slowly.

“Oh,” she shivered and then turned around in a tight circle, kicking a nearby pile of snow, “Oh!”

Seiko knit her brow together, Annalise expression had opened up into a strange erratic joy- fascinated by the mounds of white fluff. “Oh this is very good.”

“Yes?” Seiko watched Annalise gawk and poke at the piles, picking up a handful of the stuff and throwing it in the air. “Look at that!” It fell in lumps down and she beamed, kicking another pile over.

Seiko waited for a while before clearing her throat. “Um,” she looked around, “Are you not allowed to play in the snow?” She had a weird feeling about the answer.

Annalise’s guarded eyes flicked in her direction, she straightened up. “I just… don’t do it often.” She bent down again like a robot given a sudden direction, “Alright, where have you already searched?”

Seiko pointed to several locations around the porch and they got to work again, pointing and guessing and carefully searching. The snowfall slowly dwindled, turning from fat wet balls into tiny dandelion fluffs. Faint rays of sun finally broke out into a sleek grey morning, weak and barely there like the wheezing breaths of a forgotten old man.

Seiko was starting to get a headache from the glare of the endless white, she finally sat back on her haunches and turned to the other girl. “What will happen if you don’t find it?” Annalise froze mid-sift, eyes cast down, “my mom,” she clenched her teeth, “will be really pissed.” “Oh,” Seiko could only guess at what that meant for her. Grounding? Pony privileges revoked? A dungeon? Who knew.

“They were for my birthday,” she continued bitterly, “she was so excited to give them to me. Said it was some milestone.” Annalise shook her head, “Goddammit.” Seiko giggled at that.

“What?” Annalise glanced at her. “What is it?” “Nothing,” Seiko kept running her fingers through the layers, “it’s just, you know, you don’t seem like the type to curse.” She snorted, “Too prim.” Annalise paused at that, giving Seiko a hard long look. Then, she drew herself up, standing tall, squaring her shoulders, and making herself big and solid. She held Seiko’s gaze as a lion would before jumping through a fiery hoop. “FUCK.” Seiko burst into a side-splitting laugh, rich and spilling out her from her insides like a warm river, she held her sides and rolled back in the snow, “Oh my god.” “Shit!”

“No wait,” she laughed, “stop.” “Bastard baby idiot!”

Seiko waved her hand through the air, “You’ve proved it, you’ve proved it.” Seiko wiped at her eyes and couldn’t miss the pleased smile crossing Annalise’s face, terribly satisfied with itself.

“Well. Now you know.” She flattened down her bloated jacket like it was a fine party dress. Seiko couldn’t stop laughing, she turned over in place. “You showed me. I’ve learned a lot today.” Annalise hummed and looked her over, “you’re a strange girl.” “Me?” Seiko’s face lit up and she kept snickering, “Me?” “Yes,” Annalise delicately picked through some more snow. “All… those outfits you wear and bike riding. You go so fast, where is your helmet?” “You sound like my mom,” Seiko grumbled, but she was still smiling. “You’re the one who lives in a huge house with a psychic mom. And no one’s even heard of you, do you go to some fancy boarding school or something? With like, uniforms and everything. I bet it’s in England.” And maybe with wizards and sorting hats and dragons, Seiko had theories.

Annalise didn’t look up, her expression downcast and eyes uneasy. “Well,” she folded into herself. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just homeschooled.” “Oh,” Seiko blinked a couple times, that wasn’t what she imagined. It wasn’t how she imagined homeschool kids looked or how she imagined Annalise spent her days.

Annalise met her eyes tentatively, “You go to the school down the way,” Annalise touched her elbow, “Do you like it?” Seiko wasn’t sure how to answer that, did she like it? She didn’t know. It’s just what she did, it’s what everyone did, it’s not something you liked or didn’t, you just did it- like your laundry or the dishes.

“I guess?” She itched her nose, “I like PE and science class. Sometimes I like art, but Miss Shaw is kind of an old bag, she keeps telling me I draw without purpose. Whatever that means.” “Right,” Annalise looked away, as if that wasn’t what she was looking for.

“Right,” Seiko turned away, unable to hold on to whatever this was. She was about to tell Annalise to maybe secretly buy another pair of earrings and get rush delivery. And then she saw something glittering in the snow.

“Woah,” she reached down, following the reflection- a silver glare catching the light. “Oh man.” She picked up a blue-diamond, shaped as a perfect snowdrop with a silver back and little delicate outline.

It looked like something a prince might give a princess for her hand in marriage or a charm to ward off warlocks and ugly curses. It caught the light like a bird song and Seiko has to gape at the thing for a second.

She never got into ‘stuff,’ how could she? She could afford fingerless rainbow gloves and novelty t-shirts and the occasional ewok hat, but they weren’t like this. Nothing was like this.

“Here,” Seiko pushed it away from herself as if it burned, swallowing some bile in her throat she couldn’t name. She wasn’t going to own something like that, even if she got a silly boyfriend or big wedding, she knew that.

Annalise took it, cradling it in her clumsy gloved hands. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, “Thank you so much.” Seiko thought she saw Annalise’s eyes go damp and slightly red, but it was hard to tell. Seiko just patted her knee, “No big deal,” she shrugged, “Pissing off your parents sucks.” And it doesn’t look like you have anyone else.

Seiko didn’t think of herself as observant or thoughtful or any of those ‘ding’ words, but Annalise looked up at her and Seiko felt like something, someone, after all.

Annalise put her hand out, “I can’t repay you enough.” For some reason, they shake, there in the snow and weak light and undelivered newspapers. “Let me get you some tea or dry gloves or anything.” Seiko just sniffed and looked away, “Nah.” She dusted herself off and got up again, “Just don’t complain about me and the gate or how I bike and all that stuff.” She winked, “I’m the good samaritan here.” “Yes, yes you are,” Annalise’s eyes go soft and she stood up after her. “Let me get you som-” And maybe she would have gotten her something, but they both heard footsteps from inside, “Annalise?” A voice called, “Honey?”

Annalise froze like she was a burglar caught in police headlights, “I gotta go.” They both tore away in opposite directions, though Seiko didn’t know what she was running for, she looked over to shoulder to see Annalise ripping off her plastic gloves and heavy coat, eyes wild with something.

Seiko hurried away with her pack at her side and a few missed calls from various adults. School had been canceled after all. And where was she? She should have been back then. And so on.

Seiko was wet and cold and achy when she returned, limbs heavy as stones and trembling on their own. Her thoughts endlessly started churning, taking apart what just happened. Annalise in the snow, her face as bright as an expanding star.

Annalise as frightened as a hare in a claw trap, Annalise cradling the blue diamond and on the verge of tears, Annalise looking at her.

She’s just another girl, she reminded herself, and I’m just being a good person.

She closed her eyes and put her head against the shower wall, hot water ran over her back and she exhaled, it was a day worth more than she knew.

—————

Annalise started to open up more to her each time she visited, as if finding her earring had turned Seiko from ‘alien service worker’ into ‘acceptable stranger on my porch.’

She started chatting, about the weather, about the Chicago Cubs (Annalise liked them for some reason), about the neighborhood and what size dog was ideal. Seiko said the bigger the dog the better, Annalise thought that if it couldn’t fit in a children’s swing it was too big.

Seiko started to worry more, that Annalise wasn’t allowed to play in the snow, that she wasn’t allowed to lose things. That she wasn’t outside anymore.

There wasn’t much she could do though and worrying didn’t stop time from passing like slowly dripping candle wax. Winter turned to spring and Seiko cut her hair again as her graduated into 6th grade, she was starting to like the short look.

“So you’re going to ‘Elmswood’,” Annalise said one day, bits of summer sun streaking across her cheek and eyes unreadable.

“Sure,” Seiko shrugged, “I mean, I think the soccer team will be cool and they have an actual film club instead of just one kid running a movie review column in the school paper.” “So?” Annalise still seemed bemused by everything about her.

“Plus, I mean, it’ll be nice,” Seiko put her hands in her pockets, “Maybe I can start over, ya know? Most the kids in my class won’t be going there,” she stood all the way up, “I’ll be the cool new kid.” Annalise somehow gave her an even more bemused look, “Are you not cool?” She asked dryly.

Seiko stuck her tongue out, “… not cool cool. People like Liza are cool,” she paused for a long second, frowning, then looked up again, “but I feel like me and Liza could really click next year if I go.” Annalise leaned back on her heels, “Be careful Seiko,” she said, her voice dull, flat, and fluttering out of her lips. “Girls like her may be just as the seem and nothing more.” “What?” She made a face, “What? They seem really cool and are?” Seiko just snorted, “You should get out more…” She took a step forward, hunching her shoulders slowly, “you could come too. Maybe you’d actually like it.” Annalise shook her head, as if breaking out of a daze. “Where?” “Elmswood,” she said simply, “I mean, June is going too. Who is the worst and won’t stop bringing up every embarrassing thing that’s ever happened, but it’s fine. We could gang up against her.” She gave a devilish grin, “You could tell her some bogus fortune like her life line has a huge rude gorilla in her future.” Annalise frowned deeply and looked down at her knees, “I can’t.” She said simply, “I do school here.” “But-” “I can’t.” She said sternly and took her newspaper inside without another word.

The conversation ended for that day.

—————–

Time seemed so slow when she was young, but it passed just as it always did: one drop at a time. She graduated elementary school, spent a summer lazing around the pool and trying out things like rollerblading and science camp. She scraped her knees at both and said she wasn’t ever going back.

Her uncle gave her a cheap camera to take videos on, it was better than her phone and she became obsessed with dressing her sister up and filming her destroying cereal-box cities.

She kept her delivery route, Bobby quit that year and Seiko got a raise, she kept attending monthly pizza nights. Mr. Simmons added brownies to the meal, he winked and said ‘not the type you kids like though.’ He was still somehow convinced they were preteens with a thing for weed.

Seiko felt like she knew everything and absolutely nothing.

Liza Mayweather seemed excited to start Elmswood with her, Seiko didn’t know what to make of that. She entered Middle School with new ripped jeans, a skrillex t-shirt, and knock-off vans, sick with excitement, but fall soon sunk into normalcy.

She was the worst player on the soccer team, but they gave her the job of taking videos for the games, she started editing them to Queen songs and shatter sound effects. The girls laughed themselves silly when she added fake bloopers and ‘mm whatya say’ whenever they missed a goal.

Her sister turned 3 and her mother fretted about her speaking properly and walking and potty-training and everything she could fret about. Kingsley wrote Seiko a heavily worded text about not spending enough time together and ‘forgetting him.’ Seiko broke out the ‘super pinky promise’ to assure him they weren’t going anywhere. She got a hairline fracture on her wrist from a bike crash.

She wore a helmet after that.

Annalise, Annalise remained the same. A picture on her porch, in a variety of pajamas and flat expressions, sometimes she showed her new earrings or a good book she read.

Sometimes Annalise started speaking so quickly and emphatically that Seiko couldn’t stop her, like an overflowing dam. Sometimes she barely said anything at all, dark sleepless bruises under her eyes and something bumpy under her words.

“Are you writing on yourself?” Seiko pointed out one day, looking at a few words printed over Annalise wrist, inky and precise, Annalise quickly left after that.

She was still a strange girl in a strange house. And it didn’t change.

——————

Seiko was 13, it was the second semester of 7th grade. She was breaking out on her chin, sweating through her shirts, and wearing lumpy sports bras that made her feel like a padded grandma. She had refused to let the fitting-room lady measure her so she just guessed her size and fled like The Other Man out of his lover’s bedroom window.

Her mother gave her the longest lecture of her life about periods and babies, Seiko turned two shades of green and swore up and down that this didn’t have anything to do with her. Her mom gave a tampon demonstration.

Liza got a boyfriend. No one else did.

And something changed.

Seiko’s mom said she was getting too old for paper routes, but Seiko kept on, she knew the way, she knew the drill, it was fine money. June quit the paper route that year, so it was just her, Katy, and all the new kids they started to ignore.

And something changed.

It was spring, smelling green and loud and filled with a type of hope that carried on with arbitrary spinning of the world into the sun. Seiko had a history report due and a split-lip from a soccer ball to the face, she barely looked at the houses she delivered to anymore.

Annalise was standing at the edge of her porch, an enormous smile spread across her usually grim features. She waved excitedly when Seiko arrived.

“Come come,” she leaned forward on her tiptoes and gestured, “Come up, I have news.” Seiko raised her eyebrows, “Oh?” Annalise bounced in place, she seemed more full today, like the light had been pumped back into her. Seiko reached the side of the porch, Annalise clapped her hands together, “I got your friend in.” She burst out like a party popper, like Seiko would know what that meant. Seiko tried to smile back, “You got my… friend in?” She wracked her brain for what that could mean.

Annalise visibly sagged, “You don’t remember.” Seiko put her hands up, “No, no, just… jog my memory maybe?” Annalise gave a forceful sigh, “You don’t remember.” It looked like an out-and-out pout.

Seiko leaned on the side of the porch, “Tell me about,” she grinned and rose up toward Annalise, “kids these days, amiright? Can’t remember a thing without smartphones.”

Annalise gave a quick smile and then trained herself back into a pout, “You’re the one that told me about her.” She folded her arms over her chest.

Annalise blinked a couple times, “Who?” She couldn’t even place a name.

“Katy Mendoza!” She said clippedly, “You had me dig up all her letters years ago.” Seiko’s mouth fell open, “You actually looked for them?” “Of course I did,” Annalise defended, lifting her chin up and looking away, “no faith.” Seiko lit up, “You actually looked for them!”

Annalise huffed, “All for nothing it seems.” “No, no,” she tossed the paper on their doorstep to pay proper attention to Annalise, “You, you got her a spot?” Annalise grew a slim smile, almost sly. “It took awhile. My mom has a long waiting list, but, well,” she puffed up, “That girl kept sending letters and I kept putting them at top of the stack.” She grinned widely, “It finally paid off.” “Wow!” Annalise clapped, she hadn’t talked to Katy in three weeks, but still. “Woah, that’s so cool! You made it happen.” Annalise fluffed her hair, “Of course I did.” They both laughed and spring seemed more spring than it did before. “Watch tonight,” Annalise beamed, chest puffed out. “Yeah, of course,” Seiko nodded so hard she thinks pez candies might start shooting of out her neck, “I will!”

Annalise seemed to have a long memory, longer than hers, and she preened like a shiny hen at a peacock competition.

—————–

Seiko was 13 and lying on her stomach in front of the TV. They had gotten more channels in the last few years, her little sister liked PBS and their mom compromised.

“Don’t forget,” her mom called from the kitchen, “it’s your night to put the dishes away.” “I know mom,” she called back, “It’s just a half-hour program.” Her mom walked back and forth between rooms, “And put away your cleats.” “I already did!” “Then what did I just step on in the hallway?” They were still in the same smarmy small apartment.

“Ugh,” Seiko quickly got to her feet and rushed to put her cleats back in her room, just as the psychic’s jingle came on.

‘Your future is waiting, your future is written. Sit down with Madame Lynn and hear the infinite.’

It reminded her of a slightly more-spooky car sales jingle.

“Are you really watching this?” Her mom stood on the cusp of the living room, taking the time to stop and comment.

“A friend is on.” Katy had almost fainted when she was told she would actually be on TV. That she would find out about her love line, solve her heart’s sickness and find out the truth- apparently she had never given up on that.

Seiko placed herself in front of the screen, propped up and focused. Rei sat in the other room  and audibly baballed a very long story to their father about animals and bugs she had recently seen. Her father clapped along at every other full sentence and Seiko turned the volume up.

The stage was brightly lit and a dark velvet screen filled the background, a single plain table sat in the center of the space, it was covered in a red cloth decorated with various symbols. She recognized some of them as Kanji and even hindu script, Seiko snorted at that.

The unseen announcer reminded her the show was filmed in front of a live audience. The town of Rogers was waiting.

A woman walked on, she was tall and upright and slightly ‘handsome’ if you would use that word. She wore a long burnt-orange silk scarf around her black hair, enormous round glasses, and a deep maroon shawl around her thin shoulders. Seiko had seen her around on local signs and a couple video clips, but it had never occurred to her that this woman didn’t look terribly like Annalise.

Her complexion was darker (which wasn’t hard), her eyes were deeper set in her face and features pasted on at different mismatching angles. She looked like a collaborative art piece from college students whereas Annalise reminded her of a classical European painting.

Though, of course, Madame Lynne’s entire demeanor and disjointed look fit her persona, the smalltown psychic with otherworldly powers. Despite the cheesy effects, numerous gaudy bangles, and over-the-top opera gloves she wore, Seiko could see why people thought she was a witch.

She carried herself like that, like some other strange force swept across the stage, swaying and stalking over like a suave cat.

“She’s such a hack,” Seiko’s mom tutted from the background. “I’ve seen those tarot card she uses online. They aren’t even an original set.”

“Sshhush,” Seiko waved her hand through the air frantically, “it’s about to start.” Her mom just humphed but didn’t move to leave.

Madame Lynne looked directly at the camera as she spoke, solid and imposing. That part reminded her of Annalise at least. “We have a special guest tonight, an anxious soul in need,” Madame Lynne’s ghostly voice rang out, enrapturing and deep. “A young woman with woes and a heart full to bursting. Her path ahead is uncertain and she has come to us for counsel, a dedicated fan and Rogers local, please welcome Katy Mendoza!”

Katy walked onto stage with her huge eyes and quivering lips and mousy nose, she looked just as unsure of herself on TV as she did everywhere else. She picked her way across the stage and took her time sitting down, trembling slightly.

“I’m such a big fan of yours Madame Lynne,” she whispered in her cricket voice, the microphone had been placed extra high on her collar. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I’m sure my dear,” she patted her hand warmly, “I’m happy to help.” The show preceded much as Seiko assumed it would. Katy gushed to the psychic, explaining her heart’s dilemma: that no one had ever like her, that she was too ugly and shy and would never find love.

Madame Lynne assured her that she was lovely and that anyone who valued her outsides more than her insides weren’t worth her time. Seiko liked that part, Katy brimmed with some fragile hope and a watery heartfelt smile played across her face whenever Madame Lynne spoke. That was something.

And then they got to the reading.

Seiko understood very little of it, she had gone through a brief witch phase herself but most of it had been reading about the occult and trying to summon cthulhu. She hadn’t gotten to tarot.

Madame Lynne brought out her stack of shiny golden cards and shuffled them in place, her long fingers quick and fastidious, almost mesmerizing as she began to hum. This was the pinnacle of the whole show, Seiko watched in a trance.

Katy drew six cards and Madame Lynne placed them out across the table methodically, explaining each card’s meaning in relation to Katy’s past and present. Seiko glazed over during this part, most of it she already knew: a controlling father, several nervous habits, a desperate wish for confidence. Seiko understood. However, Katy started weeping when she pulled out the sixth card and final card, it was revealed to be the ten of pentacles.

“It’s certain,” Madame Lynne held her hands and patted the top, “This reading is clear: true love is certain.”

Katy let out a hiccuping sob and wiped at her eyes, Seiko smiled a real smile for the other girl instead of rolling her eyes. Love wasn’t exactly on Seiko’s ‘important things’ list, but this felt like something else.

“Will I have kids?” Katy asked next in a small voice, “And a house with a yard? For my daughter to run around in.” Madame Lynne blinked a couple times, confused for a moment, then probably broke some sort of rule and held out the cards once more, “Let’s find out. Hold your question clearly in your mind and pick another.” Katy bit her lip, concentrating for a full minute, she drew a seventh card. It had a shimmery large wheel in the center, someone in the audience gasped. It was the wheel of fortune, Madame Lynne frowned, “It is uncertain.” “Oh…” Katy hung her head, face falling.

“But don’t fret young dear,” Madame Lynne reassured, “your future is your own. If you want a daughter, you may certainly still have one.” Katy looked back at Madame Lynne, fixedly, worshipfully. Seiko had an odd feeling about this.

“Did it work out for you Madame, do you have any kids?” She asked earnestly. Seiko’s mouth fell open, no doubt Katy remembered the conversation they had all those years ago. “Did you want them too?” Madame faltered for the first time that night, a sudden slippage of her expression and poise, heavy brow furrowing. “Well,” she folded her hands in the lap and then reverted to calm smile, maternal even. “Yes, how perceptive you are. I also wanted a daughter, much like you.” She leaned over to pet Katy’s hair, Katy leaned into it.

“And you got her? It worked out.” Katy nodded as if that answered everything. Madame Lynne gave a heavy sigh, “You’re future is your own, young one.” She said slowly, “But it was not to be for me. I wanted a daughter, yes, but I’m afraid it never materialized in my fortunes. My flock are my children now.” Seiko froze in place, didn’t have a daughter? Why would she say that? Of course she had a daughter, Seiko had been chatting with every week since she was 10.

“But I thought… you had one?” Katy seemed confused, a murmur went through the crowd, something was off.

Seiko’s eyes bulged at the whole affair, Madame Lynne looked dead into the camera, cutting and direct, somehow loaded. “I’m not sure where you got that idea…” Seiko’s heart dropped, she breathed in through her nose and felt somewhat chilled. What did that even mean? Why would Madame Lynne not acknowledge Annalise? Seiko’s head spun and she quickly turned off the TV, not even finishing the program. Something was off.

—————–

Seiko reluctantly approached the wedding-cake house the next day, feet scraping against the pavement and path zig-zagging. She’d chosen not to ride her bike that day, even if walking was the equivalent of taking a rowboat when a speedboat was available.

I don’t have a daughter.

Seiko still had no idea what that meant. Was Madame Lynne hiding her? Was Seiko mistaken about the house? Had she been seeing things?

Seiko had a couple new things in her search history, such as ‘Signs You Are Actually Communing with the Dead’ and ‘How Good is Recent Hologram Technology?’ She almost asked her mom if she had ever had vivid hallucinations growing up.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

She took her time unlatching the large iron gate and closing it behind her, sneaking onto the property with light feet. She kept her eyes trained on the stoic grey house as she approached. There was no one outside that morning, no one in sight at all, that was very very out of the ordinary.

Seiko’s shoulders rose like the haunches of spooked cats, she drew closer sluggishly, had something gone wrong? She made it to the front porch and slid the newspaper toward the door in the way a blackjack dealer slides cards to players about to bust. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door finally swung open, Annalise hurried out onto the porch as usual, cheeks slightly flushed.

“There you are,” She blinked a couple times.

“Annalise!” Seiko clutched her heart as the other girl appeared.

Annalise just leaned over the porch, “Did you see the show last night?” “I-I did,” Seiko bit her lip, fishing for the words to say next. Your mother tells people you don’t exist. That seemed like a bad place to start.

“I hope you liked it.” Another voice input from behind the doorway, deep and direct. If seeing Annalise that morning was disconcerting, seeing Madame Lynne hovering behind her in the doorway was even more so. She was wearing a deep blue bathrobe, a towel over her black hair and several fat rings on her fingers, her makeup was gone and so were her huge glasses.

She seemed plain now, no less spooky and uncanny, but more simple. She frowned slightly and fixed Seiko with a hard look, Seiko squirmed in place.

“Here’s your paper ma’am!” She shoved the power toward the woman. “I hope you’re having a good morning.” She was suddenly sure she was sweating through her lumpy sports bra.

“Indeed,” Madame Lynne’s lip curled back, brown eyes narrowing. Annalise stood uncomfortably between them as they exchanged a charged look. “I’m glad my daughter has friends.” Seiko blinked blankly at that, the back of her neck prickling.

“But, please, be mindful.” Madame Lynne put one bony hand on Annalise’s cheek, dragging her fingers down in a caress. “She’s my only daughter and I treasure her, her constitution is… weak.” Madame Lynne pursed her lips, “And we are a private family.” The older woman seemed to be nudging at something Seiko didn’t quite grasp, Seiko kept meeting her gaze and looking sheepishly away again. “I… I understand.” She didn’t understand. “Good,” Madame Lynne straightened up, “I hope you won’t go spreading any rumors then our little paper girl.” She smiled toothily, “Apparently the town already thinks I’m a witch. And a bad one at that!” She laughed richly and Seiko tried to join in.

“They do say… silly things.” Seiko was starting to suspect this woman was a witch.

“We’ll have to see you tomorrow then Seiko,” Madame Lynne reached for the door, “Say goodbye now Annalise.” Annalise waved limply, looking rather off-put. “See you Seiko.” Seiko waved back, wondering if she should mouth something or break into interpretive dance, but the door swung shut and Seiko was left there- confused and little taken back.

We’re a private family.

Seiko still had questions.

—————–

Madame Lynne chaperoned their conversations from then on, showing up at the door in her  lofty imperial bathrobe and lingering just behind Annalise. Seiko had no idea why.

Their conversations became a lot more bland and short, about the weather or the morning headline or even schoolwork of all things. Annalise was learning advanced algebra apparently, because of course she was.

Madame Lynne took up a lot of the space.

‘I hear you’re on the soccer team Seiko.’

‘I hear you struggle in social studies, perhaps give this book a try…’

‘I hear you like movies.’

Like, yes? Of course she liked movies. Seiko barely had any proper answers, it felt like she was filling in multiple choice bubbles and it kept coming up red ink. She fumbled through nonetheless and then left. Somedays Annalise didn’t speak at all.

—————

Time slipped by, Seiko got caught up in school drama, after school practice, and her little sister’s new nightmares about a jello monster that lived under their carpet.

She was 14 and in the last year of Middle School, she already knew she was going to Dale High school with all the other Elmswood students this time.

It was the tailend of winter, a grey day, grey and quiet and her feet crunched through the two inches of snow with every step. She was no longer ten and filled with bustling excitement, she was used to waking up at 5am, but that didn’t mean she liked it anymore.

Seiko yawned with enough force to suck in a small planet and barely noticed where she threw the newspapers anymore. Her aim was good enough, but they usually bounced and it was up to God and Jesus Christ where they landed after that.

She yawned again and checked her cellphone. Maria was mad at Cynthia for talking to her boyfriend last night after the game, but it’s not like Cynthia started it. He talked to her first and she was just laughing at his jokes to be polite.

The group chat went on and on, Seiko wished they could just go back to sending memes and silly pictures of their coach. But Cynthia had apparently also tugged on Matt’s sleeve and put a hand on his chest, people were taking sides.

Seiko was caught up in the drama of the little team when she reached the wedding-cake house. It was empty that morning and Seiko frowned, preparing herself for another brief ‘mom conversation.’

She reached the door and put the paper neatly down, raising her eyebrows when no one greeted her at all, all the lights were off. She took a second to dawdle and stand there. This was different.

She was about to turn around and stomp her way to the next house when the door finally swung open.

“Good morning,” Madame Lynne stood in the doorway, black bangs loose and smile plastered across her face unevenly. “Annalise is sick this morning, but she sends her regards.” Seiko just nodded, bobbing her head a bit to try and see past Madame Lynne, someone was standing on the stairs. Madame Lynne took a step to block her view.

“Have a nice day now Seiko.” Seiko shifted again, the figure on the stairs shifted as well, a pair of pale legs came into view. They looked off- dented, shadowed, Madame Lynne raised her arms up, the wings of bathrobe block the whole view.

“Yes ma’am,” she finally said, “Tell Annalise to get better soo-” The door closed in her face before she even finished the sentence. There were quick footsteps from inside but nothing more.

Seiko sniffed loudly and turned. She was thinking of quitting her paper route.

She was almost in high school after all.

She didn’t see Annalise after that.

————–

“You’re turning fifteen,” her mom was folding laundry on the couch. “You’ll need a real job this summer.” “I have a real job mom, I get tips.” Seiko folded her socks haphazardly and then moved onto the next pair. “And I told you, I don’t know.” “Don’t know what?” Her mom frowned sourly, “That bike of yours is rusting and your father is too old to keep repairing it for you.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “I walk most days now anyway.” She shook her head.

“Well,” her mom hummed loudly, “Why walk when you could drive?” Seiko sat all the up, hands falling down to her lap as her mom said it. “Seriously?” Her face lit up, “It’s time? You’ll teach me?” Seiko’s parents hadn’t mentioned anything about her driving yet, even as all the other kids started to get lessons.

Her mom tilted her chin up proudly, “Driving is a privilege,” Seiko vibrated in place at that, “And for girls who need to get places. Such as to real jobs. Did you know my friend at the grocery store is hiring?” Seiko just nodded emphatically, “Awesome! Yes.”

She would be in high school in just one month, Seiko decided she needed a cooler persona beyond ‘delivery girl who owned a camera and sucked at soccer.’ Now she could be the girl who drove her parents 1999 beat-up corolla.

Or at the very least didn’t bike to school every day.

——————-

“Yes, ma’am, this is my last day.” Seiko gave her most winning smile to old Mrs. Hankla, the paperbag-textured woman humphed, frowned, and told her to wait there a moment. Mrs. Hankla put down her watering hose and went inside without turning it off. She came back outside with a twenty.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Mrs. Hankla seemed to swat the air in front of her and handed the bill over, “and don’t go spending it on candy and chocolates for some boy. That’s how they get ‘ya.”

“Oh yeah, I hear you,” Seiko laughed and pocketed the money as she was on her way. “Thanks Miss H!” She called, “Look after Nooky for me.” The woman just grunted in reply and it was like every other morning, but now she had a twenty.

A surprising number of people were up and about that morning, preening their lawns, checking their mail languidly, and stretching for a morning run. It was one of the last weeks of summer and everyone from sports nuts to grumpy dads in nothing but boxer shorts were enjoying the final days of truly delicious sunshine.

Seiko even had a little hop in her step, it was her last round ever and her first job really had treated her well. Even if she had become later and later with each year, did people really need their papers at 6am sharp? Not according to her they didn’t.

Seiko climbed the small hill and tried not to think about the middle house on Townshend street. The one that looked like a wedding cake.

It’s just another house, she told herself carefully. It’s not even goodbye forever.

She opened the fairygate slowly and carefully made her way up, the white doors were closed with no one there to greet her. But that had become normal.

Seiko placed the paper down and lingered at the door for another moment, was it rude to knock? Was it more rude to not tell them? She impulsively reached out, “Hi Lynne’s!” She knocked three times, “I just wanted to tell you, this is my last day.” She nodded at herself, “It’s been nice being your paper girl! Our talks have been nice, I mean, I hope… well I hope you have a nice day! Tell Annalise…” She petered out, she didn’t know what to tell Annalise. I hope you find a way out of this house? I hope one day you look a little less lonely? Someone cares about you?

Her heart sank, she couldn’t say that.

“Bye!” She finished lamely and turned to leave, squishing down any lingering emotions of what this would mean. She quickly skid down the driveway and back toward the road, she had her rounds to finish.

Seiko half-expected the door to open or a voice to call after her at the last second, nothing but silence and bird calls chased her down the road and around the corner.

Seiko finished delivering her last paper and loitered at the end of Greenbriar, taking one last look at her old stomping grounds. She turned her phone camera around: very last day at my childhood job!! She captioned a snapchat with her empty bag and threw up a peace sign for the hell of it.

That’s when a series of hurried footsteps thumped down the sidewalk, clumsy and stumbling on the pavement. Seiko whipped around to see a young woman in soft white pants and an overly-large apricot sweater standing there. Seiko jammed her phone in her pocket and stood up straight.

Her curls were longer, softly falling past her shoulders and down her back, she was taller as well, taller than Seiko by then. Puberty had seemed to hit her like a lovers kiss, all sweet clean skin and swan-length limbs. Brushstrokes of youth whereas Seiko felt like puberty had swung at her wildly with a baseball bat: all hairy legs and spotty acne and terrifying vivid red dreams you couldn’t repeat to anyone.

Seiko’s mouth was hanging open as she took Annalise in, she tried to stifle her thoughts before they even began, seeing the young woman out in full sunlight, breathless and reaching for her. Lovely as any dream Seiko had ever had.

Seiko swallowed in the way you choke down medication with a swollen throat.

“Don’t go,” Annalise’s dark blue eyes were huge and searching, she panted, “Don’t go.” Seiko sucked in a breath and dashed back up the street, “Annalise,” she smiled widely, pausing just in front of her, “it’s weird to see you not on your porch. How are you feeling? I haven’t… seen you in awhile.”

Annalise just shook her head, “don’t say this your last day.” Her voice sounded wet with emotion and she pawed at her face forcefully, though it didn’t look like there were any tears there.

Seiko’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled faintly, “Sorry,” she swallowed, “I need a different job and this one… doesn’t really fit anymore.” Annalise shook her head more vigorously, pressing her lips together tight as an angry iron line. “It was,” she whispered, “I waited for you every day. It was the best part of my day.”

Seiko’s chest tightened, a pain shooting through her upper body. I know you were lonely.

She rubbed her shoulder, “Why don’t I come visit? Or better yet, let’s hang out sometime, like, I dunno, get pizza or walk to the park or go swimming-” “My mom wouldn’t allow it,” Annalise was pawing at her face again, hiccuping. “She thinks I’m not ready.” Seiko frowned decidedly, she touched the other girl’s wrist, it was dry and rough. “Annalise,” she said seriously, “Is there something you’re not telling me? Is your mother,” she looked around and leaned in, whispering between them, “Trapping you in there? Are you okay?” Annalise’s bottom lip trembled, “It’s not like that. You wouldn’t understand,” she took a step back, “I don’t like to go out.”

“I know,” Seiko’s brow folded in, “But, I mean, we could still be friends! Let’s try and f-” “Annalise!” A voice carried down the street and both their heads jerk up, a woman in a long sweeping robe and strappy heels was running down the sidewalk. “What are you doing? Look at the sun coming up, are you even wearing sunscreen?” Annalise scowled back at her, “Here.” She turned back to Seiko, “You forgot this.” She slipped a wad of cash into Seiko’s hands and Seiko just blinked, she looked back up, “Wait.” She said thinly, “We need to talk. I can help you, I can do something.” “My mom is coming,” Annalise turned, “Thank you Seiko. Thank you for everything.” Her words were heavy and brimming with other unsaid things. But just like that Annalise was jogging back to her mom, calling out tersely. “I’m fine Catherine.” She seemed to snap, “See? No damages, God, you’re so dramatic.” Seiko watched the interaction mutely, trying to piece together whatever that all meant. Would a trapped girl talk to her mother like that? Would an abused girl simply leave again? Annalise took her mom’s hand and they walk back toward their house hand in hand, Madame Lynne didn’t even spare a glance for Seiko. It was Seiko’s last day after all and she’d be gone like a coins into a Las Vegas slot machine.

When Seiko looked down at the money in her hand there was a small slip of paper as well: a note written in neat fine handwriting.

unicornstormbringer773@comcast.net – write me.

Seiko blinked at the message for a long few seconds, “unicorn… stormbringer?” She broke into a smile and something jumbled in her chest like elegantly tossed puzzle pieces. She had gotten an email.

——————-

Dear Annalise, So… about that email address. Where exactly are you hiding your horn? And are you always summoning storms or just when you’re in a bad mood? Did that address come with glitter and like, rainbow stickers?

Kidding.

Are you alright though? Do you need anything? From,

Your delivery girl

She got a response back right away.

Dear Delivery girl,

Haha. For one thing, I needed something my mom would never guess- and for another I just needed any email at all, it seemed like a good idea when I was 12.

How is ‘lucyliusloveinterest’ any better?? And who is Lucy Lui? No, no, I’m fine. My mother is just overprotective, it’s complicated, don’t worry about me.

How was your day? I stopped getting a lot of updates from you, you’re going to high school soon, right? How was graduation? How was the soccer season? From,

Your Least Favorite Former Unicorn Enthusiast

Seiko grinned to herself and started typing away, she imagined she was a 19th century working girl keeping correspondence with an old-fashioned bedridden rich socialite. You know, instead of texting like normal people.

Dear Unicorn Salivator,

For one, the fact you never leave your house is no excuse for not knowing Lucy Liu, for shame!! (Elementary? Charlie’s Angels?? )

The address is an inside joke from a rather out of control sleepover. I’ll never live it down, but I will make a joke email around it! Haha, nothing serious, just a lifetime of embarrassment nbd

Day was fine, graduation was pretty awesome, I got my picture in the yearbook TWICE, one for jump-high fiving the mascot and the other for a gatorade incident. Soccer kind of sucked, too much drama and our coach wanted us to get ‘serious,’ whatever that means.

We got to state tho, then immediately knocked out of state, figures

I might not do it next year, but Liza says practice will suck without me and that I can’t leave her, maybe it will be different in High School, so I guess I’ll endure. I GUESS

High school is gonna be hella different tho, I swear, I’m buying an electric scooter (eventually) and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna ace social studies for once, go to a few dances, maybe break an arm and get everyone to sign the cast, move to Peru and open a coffee shop, you know

How are you? Your mom see my future recently? Read any good books? Come get pizza with us some time, I promise that public school kids don’t bite

Yours,

Soccer Dud, High School Stud

Dear Dud,

Sorry, pizza sounds lovely, but it will have to wait for later.

As for the soccer, I have to say…

——–

High school passed rotely: a series of highs and lows, almost failing math for a hot second, quitting the soccer team, rejoining the soccer team, getting the flu, getting ask out- turning down someone for the first time. And emails. Lots of emails.

Seiko had no idea how she could write paragraphs on paragraphs to a girl she had known for only minutes at a time in middle school. But maybe it made sense, maybe Seiko wanted it to make sense.

Why does her mother keep her indoors? Was any of it okay?

The emails became a constant in her life as the first year of high school dragged on.

Dear Dior Heathen (who God hath abandoned),

Uuuugh, my mom is bugging me so much recently. She’s obsessed with Rei and her elementary school play, but barely remembers to even take me out to drive. It’s always ‘wait your turn Seiko’ and ‘talk to your dad about it.’ He’s such a space case when I do, he keeps pretending to lose the car keys and makes a big deal of it (or he’s not pretending??).

This whole semester is screwed, high school is the worst Annalise, I’m so jealous of you being homeschooled.

The video and film club keep outvoting me for what short film we make, no one wants to do my alien thriller murder project. NO TASTE. June’s in that club. Did I mention June? We used to do paper delivery stuff together

She’s the worst. And she keeps wanting to do this romcom she wrote!! It’s based off her dumb supernatural fanfiction- I swear to God it is. She’s only a sophomore, but claims to have the most ‘seniority.’ She’s also in the lbgt+ club and says that also makes her ‘the authority on art,’ whatever that means, and she keeps trying to get me to join >:(((

For the record, JUST BECAUSE I HAVE SHORT HAIR AND PLAY SOCCER DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING!! She’s so pushy, and presumptuous!! dating is like… the last thing on my mind

Hbu? You finish that book about the secret life of trees? Do they do anything spicy, like squirrel espionage? Tree murder plots? Huh?

OR how about… your LOVE LIFE? Your mom’s new ‘Loves Fortune’ show is all the rage at school, tell me she’s at least tried to read your future and it’s like… a horse (unicorn maybe, hmm?) husband. Or probably a lesser nobility of a small country, aim high A!!

Anyway, gotta go count my $$$, I want to go to movies this weekend and I didn’t get that grocery store job (since no one will teach me to drive!!) and I’m still living off my paper route money. THE CRUELTY OF IT ALL *this is where I swoon and fall to the ground, I can’t go to the movies, people are weeping, Mr. Dior is there, he tells me I am terribly unfashionable*

Yours,

Your Impoverished Vehicle-less Friend

Dear Marooned Stranger,

You poor dear, I wonder what it’s like to not be able to go anywhere (*she loudly coughs into her hand*). I wouldn’t be too jealous of being homeschooled dear, it gets rather… suffocating to be honest. Involving many rules and worksheets and sorting through her vast collection of dusty tomes and ‘elixirs,’ Catherine is going from overbearing to class A-hysteric.

Everything worries her lately! At least her new show keeps her busy, out more, trust me, it’s a nice breather.

You claim to not have dating on your mind, but this is the third time you’ve asked me about a love life who do you think I’m going to meet all the way up in my room? The new delivery boy doesn’t even smile and the birds outside my window are assholes, no one likes an early-morning screamer.

So no. No love life.

But I wouldn’t be so close-minded of that club if I were you! I was reading ‘Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers’ for my social studies curriculum and it was truly fascinating. I know you never read my recommended books, but give it a try.Who knows, maybe you can usurp June at her club! Viva la non-pushy girls ;).

Also, remind me of when your birthday is. I want to send you something.

Yours,

Loveless in Confinement

Dear Inmate,

Sucks to be yoooooouuuu. Haha, but I’m serious, for real, for really serious. Break out. She can’t keep you there forever!! What are you, almost 16? Let’s go out, get a milkshake, knock over a trash can, break loose

Hell, we could go to a ‘scene,’ Kingsley invited me to one of those recently

He’s into ‘scenes’ now, and smoking apparently which is really gross but his mom says he’s just ‘experimenting.’ I hope she doesn’t think his new boyfriend is just an experiment too (see?? I’m not close-minded, my friend from elementary school is gay. So there). I haven’t seen him in awhile so it will be like a big ‘ol reunion

Also, sorry bb but you already missed my bday, it’s November 15th and it’s almost April lol. But you have to come to my next one!! The big 1 and 6, hopefully I’ll finally be able to drive by then, if the lord deigns to bless me with any indulgences at all adkfjagjgp

You can still send me a present tho!! I accept late-work, no points taken off :3c

I’ll try usurping June too, maybe not at her tiny lbtq club but I WILL have my alien-thriller-murder movie come to life!!

Liza keeps asking me about film club, I think she can tell my heart is like not into soccer at all at the moment. I dunno, I keep thinking we’ll drift apart after middle school but every time I think about like, not seeing her, or not talking to her, it just sucks. You know? Really sucks

Ugh, June would throw a big ‘I told you so’ party if she saw me writing that, and then I’d have to smack her haha

I’m serious about you getting out of there tho, I’m real about it, we should stop talking about it and just do it, you know?

If you do want some outside-time meet me next Friday, at the end of Greenbriar by the entrance sign, I’ll wear my neon green windbreaker so you can recognize me (and since it’s an AMAZING jacket and NOT an eyesore like my mom says). At 7, k?

We’ll do whatever.

Anyway, yours,

Your Sucker-Punching Sad Sap of a Friend

(Outside Greenbriar!! 7, don’t tell your mom or anything haha, I’ll get you home before 10 promise)

Dear Seiko,

I’d like that. I’d really really like that.

I’ll bring your present then, by the sign, 7 O’clock , I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.

Yours,

Annalise

—————

Seiko stood in the gentle spring air, the last rays of the sun bleaching across the land, shining in between the houses and warming the back of her neck. She took deep even breaths.

She was wearing her neon green windbreaker, holding a stuffed unicorn toy, and wearing her hair up in the shortest ponytail this side of Chicago. Maybe if she pretended to have long hair her heart wouldn’t beat so fast. Like hummingbirds caught in a wind turbine.

It’s just hanging out, she hunched her shoulders over. It’s just a silly toy I got her.

Freshmen year of highschool hadn’t gone like she expected. Sure, she had gotten ‘involved,’ made some friends and lost some, but she wasn’t popular and she wasn’t ‘taking the town.’ She didn’t really feel like anything at all. She was still just the girl making video edits with cartoon sound effects and photoshopping wiener dog faces over the woodshop teachers face.

She was still just Seiko.

Her mom wanted her to get a proper job again or she wasn’t affording new shoes for next year, she wanted her to quit soccer, Seiko wanted to quit soccer, Seiko couldn’t quit soccer. She kept looking at Liza and feeling some tasteless, nameless thing she pushed down like drowning a first born son in a bathtub.

But this wasn’t nameless. It was Seiko holding a stuffed animal around the neck and swaying back and forth in the warm breeze. It was Seiko checking her phone’s clock, again and again.

She had put on mascara, she had put on lip gloss. Ten minutes passed.

She had walked there so she wouldn’t sweat on a bike ride over. Twenty minutes passed.

She thought out what she wanted to say over and over, a simple ‘hey, you look nice.’ Thirty minutes passed.

She bought a purple and white unicorn with a sparkly horn for fifteen bucks. She waited fifty minutes.

Seiko’s arms fell to her side, she waited an entire hour for someone in a pretty white dress and expensive earrings and angry little face to show up. No one showed.

————–

From: ToyomiStoryReloaded@gmail.com

Where were you? Get busted by the man on your way out? Get cold feet? Lmk, either way I’m sending you 4 videos, 3 are cute dog videos you WILL enjoy and 1 is Rick Astley. Choose wisely. *saw music plays*

1, 2, 3, 4

Yours,

I’ll be real with you, Im a little pissed

PS I hope you’re okay.

Seiko never got a reply. She didn’t get anything at all, no matter how many follow up emails she sent, no matter how many ‘just write me that you’re okay. And not trapped in a dungeon somewhere.’

‘Just write me one letter, if it’s the letter ‘c’ I’ll come get you.’

‘Just send me some smoke signals, I’ll look to the western sky’

‘Just write me at all.’

‘Annalise…?’

————

Seiko visited Annalise’s house. Something had to be done, it was the middle of the day a week later, she waited ten minutes on the sidewalk, just watching the house. She saw a blond head in the first-story window.

Seiko waved forcefully, gesturing for her to come outside- come away with her, Annalise’s head turned and their eyes met. Seiko beamed, but Annalise gave her a neutral look, all placid eyes and an uninterested twitch of her lip.

Annalise looked away after that. Simply turned her head and looked the other direction. Seiko waited another minute, but Annalise never came out to greet her.

Seiko stared at her shoes, took a deep gulping breath, and went home the long way. The way that made her legs ache and her eyes sting a little less in the night air.

—————-

Seiko was 16. It was the week of her birthday, Seiko was 16 and she couldn’t tell if she was at the top of the world or buried under a hundred pounds of dirt.

“Just come,” she heard the voice of her friend Kingsley on the phone, “One night, it’s your birthday weekend, spend it with people who like you instead of all those hetero soccer girls who put your bra in the freezer last year.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “That was just a stupid prank and they already took me to Denny’s this week on my actual birthday, bought me every flavor of pancake for your information. It was cool.” She flinched at the memory of the cold ice on her chest, but she pushed it back down. She had laughed that all off. “And what if they figure out the IDs are fake? My mom would kill me for even thinking the words ‘fake ID.’”

“Tres Beaut doesn’t even card before 11 and I know a guy,” Kingsley explained slowly, “Sei, I invited people from your school too, Liza something- you like her, right? You gotta come. What happened to that ‘fuck the man’ spirit? You’re the one that made me watch the Breakfast Club when we were ten.” Seiko gave a brief laugh, she forgot how much she missed Kingsley. Then she frowned again, “For one, Liza is definitely not coming.” She covered her eyes with her arm and groaned, “Definitely not.” “Why not?” He humphed, “I thought she was the one you-” “She’s just not coming.” Seiko growled, cringing briefly. She had finally said something, it was not the right something- she played it off as a joke.

“Perfect!” Kingsley sang, most likely putting two and two together. “You can come and let off some steam. There will be girls there who, you know, could actually like you back!” Seiko groaned into the receiver and thought about hanging up. “I don’t know what I like.” She looked away, maybe that was true, maybe it wasn’t. “I’ve never even kissed a girl, please, Kingsley.” “What? What about the time you called me crying on the phone about Natalie Dormer and your english teacher and those wei-” “It’s always been just a joke, a haha funny, ‘maybe Seiko doesn’t like boys’ clown joke,” Seiko looked miserably up at the ceiling, “None of it was ever meant to be serious.” Nothing ever was.

Kingsley sighed loudly, “Then it’s time.” He said resolutely, “Come to the club with me, it’ll be awesome, live a little, figure yourself out, don’t leave your old friend Kingsley to go alone to this thing.”

“Maybe.” “I think you mean yes. Yes, yes, yes,” He repeated the word like a mantra, “Say yes.” She sighed so deeply a bit of her soul might of left, “Fine.” “Yes!” The phone hung up after that.

Kingsley had become more strong-willed since back in third grade when he cried over dead bugs on the playground. Apparently he dated a Junior girl last year, briefly dropped out, stopped dating a junior girl, and now got fake IDs for a gay club. Life changed.

Seiko just looked the ceiling, eyes misting over. What if she did go? What if she spent her birthday money and drank and danced on sticky floors in the night? What if there was somebody in the smoky dark room with soft lips and warm hands that took her off to the side…

Well, but what if the gay girls didn’t like her either? Then it truly would be hopeless.

She sunk deep into her couch, the rest of her family was out at a family dinner night. She had refused to go, claiming a cold. Seiko lugged herself over to the family calendar and penned in an event: Seiko goes to Liza’s house for a sleepover, gone the whole night.

She went to bed before 8 O’Clock and thought about nothing.

———–

Friday.

There was an email in her inbox on friday, and not her school one, her old one, the one she almost forgot about. She only checked it as an old habit, one that ached like a scar and stuttered hotly in her chest.

She opened her email and something new was there.

Dear Seiko,

It felt like reading a ghost’s handwriting.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it was all my fault. I was a coward, a fool, I wanted it so badly but I was so scared. I’m sorry.

Happy birthday, I needed to tell you that. I’m so sorry and happy birthday.

I’ve been thinking about you and your birthday and everything else.

Let me know if you ever want to try again. I promise I’ll be ready this time, I want to try again so badly Seiko. But I understand if you don’t.

Love,

Annalise.

Seiko shut her laptop with a loud ‘clack,’ tossed the entire second-hand computer under her bed, and hopped under the covers. She put her head under her pillow and screwed her eyes shut tight in order to force herself to sleep. Nothing but a pounding in her head greeted her.

She opened her computer again at 2am that night, it was dark and still as a tomb. The apartment below them was playing soft ocean music and someone was singing drunkenly on the street. Seiko couldn’t sleep, she didn’t want to sleep. She should sleep.

She wrote, despite herself.

Dear A,

I get it. I think I get it, your mom, right? Sure, yeah, I’m going out this Saturday, out-out, it probably won’t be your thing, a club probably isn’t the best starter-outing

But, yeah, we could try again.Promise you won’t see me and blow me off again? I’m pretty delicate (and dainty, can’t you tell?) and that kind of really fucking sucked like, 6 months ago

If you’re actually up for it, meet us at the gas station on 25th street, we’ll pick you up along with a few beers. Hope you don’t mind.

Yours,

Totally-Cool-and-Drinks-Beers-Now Seiko

She shouldn’t have done it. She did it.

She closes her laptop again and buried the thing at the bottom of a stack of laundry.

————-

She didn’t expect anything. She told herself there was nothing to expect. She was 16 and she made her own meals, did her own laundry, and tied her own damn shoes, she got to make her own decisions.

She could go out to places where they drank and smoked and didn’t care about small apartments that smelled like burnt sneakers and damp soil.

She was 16 now. And she didn’t need ‘fairy gates’ and pale victorian girl’s trapped in wedding-cake houses that were more fantastical than real. She didn’t need bedtime stories of captive princesses.

Seiko’s heart still stopped when she saw the lithe figure under the green fluorescent lights of the gas station. She wasn’t wearing pajamas for once. She had on a knee-length white tent dress with pale yellow accents, a soft blue knit jacket loosely buttoned up her front, and a pair of ankle-length brown boots. She clutched a saddlebag brown leather purse to her side.

They were all probably name-brand with designers Seiko couldn’t place and held by a girl with poise money couldn’t by. Annalise’s dark eyes followed each car nervously, standing with her whole body tense and bathed in the eerie glow of the musty gas station.

She looked out of place against the grungy pumps and compact convenience store, candy bars, tabloids, and energy drinks framing her loose twisting golden curls. She looked out of place and more nervous than Seiko had ever seen her.

But she had come.

“Is that your girl?” Kingsley whistled, he was driving his families yellow jeep with the air of someone with enough money to replace it. “She’s like one of those fancy haunted dolls you buy in the creepy part of ebay.” Seiko shot a glare at him, “She doesn’t get out much.” She explained shortly to him, “pull over.” They drove up to the spooked girl and she froze in place, eyes wide and mirror-like, Seiko quickly rolled down the window, “what’s up hot stuff?” She said with a slight cringe.

Annalise visibly relaxed, “Seiko.” Her eyes grew soft and a faint smile played across her features. “You came.” It was simple, a moment with no time at all, crystallized and still in a way that was beyond a gas station meeting in the dark with childhood friend’s going to a drinking party.

Seiko put her hand out, “Come on up.” Annalise beamed, a faint glow coming to her cheeks, “I’m ready to go out into the world.” She declared and lifted herself up tall, “I’m not even frightened.” “You should be,” Kingsley snorted, “The world’s a fucked up place.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “don’t listen to the cynic, he’s in his ‘try everything once and become an asshole’ phase.” “Thanks Sei, you’re a peach.”

Seiko gave a short laugh, “Come on,” she opened the car door to the back seats, “We’re giving you a crash course in the outside world. Zero to a hundred real quick.” “I’m ready!” Annalise pumped her hands in the air, “Show it to me.” They all grinned with the burn of youth in their guts and chill of the frosty winter in the air. It was time to do something new.

————

Dark trees, brilliant headlights, and a stretching highway unfolded around them in long plodding stretches, Seiko held her hands- popping each knuckle one finger at a time.

She vibrated in place gently, trying to push down any building giddiness, it’s just a club she told herself, just a party, just a girl. So what if it was a gay club? So what if I haven’t done anything like this before? It was thirty minutes to the nearest big-city, Springfield, and then thirty minutes back. But Kingsley had already assured them that they might need to uber their own way back.

“What’s an uber?” Annalise blinked a couple times, wide-eyed and tilting her head like a graceful meerkat leaning into their personal space. She hadn’t been convinced to put a seatbelt on yet.

Seiko and Kingsley exchanged a look, “Uhh,” they both fumbled. “A car you, pay for?”

Annalise grew a cheeky grin, “I’m kidding.” She pushed on Seiko’s shoulder, “I’m a shut-in, not a luddite.” They laughed, passed around a few unmemorable words, and turned the car’s speakers on high. They sang along to Kingsley’s father’s playlists, belting out the Beach Boys best hits when appropriate.

“If everybody had an ocean

Across the U. S. A.

Then everybody’d be surfin’

Like Californi-a”

No one in that car had surfed a day in their life. They turned the song up for a reprise.

Some of the worries melted from Seiko’s gut, it was the night for this, it was the night for her, and Kingsley, and most of all Annalise. They could eat the world whole- chew on the rinds, crunch the mountains into crumbs, and swallow the oceans like candy-flavored cough syrup.

They sped across blank landscape, passing the speed limit at several points and tapping the ceiling with a kiss at every train track. They drove until a glittering mass of high buildings arose from the treetops like a sudden witch’s hut in an otherwise cursed black forest. Sprawling neighborhoods, actual indoor malls, and house lights that didn’t turn off at 9pm came into view.

Seiko took deep even breaths, “We close?” She bit her lip, “are they even expecting us?” Kingsley rolled his eyes and turned off into a highway exit, “Chill,” he put his hand out, “Relax. Everyone will take care of you, they’re cool.” “Take care of us?” Annalise knit her brow together.

Kingsley looked back in the mirror, “You know, like murder.” “No Kingsley.” Seiko groaned.

They made several turns down dinghy second-hand neighborhood roads and Seiko popped her fingers again. The neighborhoods had low gutters, indistinct sidewalks, yellow street lights the color of stale mountain dew, and five story buildings on either side- and this wasn’t even the downtown district. They were as far from Rogers as the afterlife was to the newly born.

Kingsley started humming, “here we go baby.”

They slowed down in front of a boxy cement building with glowing square windows and too many people mulling about outside. Most of them were holding lit cigarettes, chatting, and relaxed as a crowd of crows at a carcass. One of the groups were sipping out of red solo cups and watching a young man in a beanie attempt a skateboard trick.

Seiko gulped as her eyes flicked over the cups, she had tried a few beers with the soccer girls before and even a shot of whiskey she immediately coughed up through her nose.

But nothing like this.

Several cars were parked haphazardly off to the side, a jigsaw puzzle of devil-may care line-ups, a couple of stranger’s raised their heads as Kingsley’s yellow jeep pulled up.

“Y’all ready?” Kingsley winked.

Seiko set her jaw and put on a brave face on, “Let’s rock.” Kingsley just chuckled, “Alright then.” He parked, Seiko exchanged a look with Annalise.

‘You ready?’ she mouthed to the other girl and Annalise just gave a stony-faced nod. She sat up straight and threw her arms up, “Let’s murder it!” She shouted at full-volume and they laughed recklessly in reply.

Kingsley was the first one to jump out, boneless and tall as the buildings themselves. “Who has a drink for me and these lovely ladies?” He waved and some people must have recognized him as he was greeted with a brief ‘ayyyyy.’

Seiko took another moment to get her legs to work, closing her eyes, imagining the whole night laid out in front of her like a winding silver road, her feet pounding on it up and up and out. She hopped out of the car without looking back.

Seiko stumbled forward and a few people looked her over, she gave a lopsided-grin, “Sooo, there’s drinks here?”

“Sure kid,” a girl with a nose ring motioned for a guy wearing a hawaiian t-shirt.

Annalise followed her out like a lost shadow, bumping into Seiko and grabbing at her sleeve, Seiko just gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We got this,’ she mouthed in her general direction, Annalise’s expression had slipped slightly like a shifting curtain over a disturbed zoo animal.

“Yeah.”

Kingsley whooped from the makeshift parking lot, patted some hands, and handed Seiko a sort of ‘jungle juice’ he called it. She wrinkled her nose at the sweet slippery smell and fluorescent redness.

“I guess…” She gave it a long hard look.

“Oh no, none for me, not yet.” Someone tried to offer Annalise a drink too, but she politely turned it down, her cheeks paler than usual and face a little stricken.

“One of you has to break your alcohol cherry tonight,” Kingsley said loudly for the benefit of the crowd, like a showman at the fairgrounds, some other kids cheered back. “Go for it girl,” a young woman with a mohawk cackled.

Seiko looked over to Annalise, her sweeping dark eyes, small wrists, preened curls, and the upright way she carried herself. Everything.

Seiko took a deep breath, held her nose, and drank deeply, it was like every punch juice she ever had but sweeter and with a strong bitter undercurrent. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinked up, and stared into the starless night sky until it all went down.

—————

Colors and lights blurred together, sound thumped in the very center of her being like a drumbeat to her blinking eyes and swirling thoughts. Everything was slightly blurred around the edges, like a developing photo that had been shifted at the very last second.

The world was brighter, busier, and more jumbled than ever before, Seiko had a huge liquid smile spread across her face. They had made it to the club, she couldn’t remember how or why they made it, but they were there. Seiko was sitting on some black leather couches with a group of people she hadn’t known an hour ago.

In the distant past she had entered an apartment, played her first drinking game, won at flip cup, lost spectarcurly at king’s cup. She drank the whole regal cup after that to a series of chanting that began and ended with ‘chug.’ That’s when things got a little wonky around the edges.

She was sitting, smiling, and soaking in the room, there were girls moving with girls and boys whispering to each other in private corners. Couples laughed, held hands, and found places to   dig skin into skin like holy burial grounds. There was a sapling plant in her chest being watered for the first time, a sunbeam to people who never seen the sky before.

She blinked slowly, “This place is great.” That might not have been the first time she said that, “Really great.” Some girl she didn’t know was placing water in front of her, “drink up.” She smiled and watched her carefully. The girl had sparkle star berets in her stiff brown hair, a neon-troll shirt, and a thousand brightly colored bracelets. Seiko thought they started talking when she complimented the girl’s purple leather pants and somehow ended up here. Another girl sat across from them in all black and ignored the crowds for watching the multi-colored ceiling lights instead.

Seiko slowly reached for the water and chugged. It was good, lot’s of things were really good.

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice broke into her headspace.

Seiko turned to see a blonde girl leaning over them, trying to avoid other people swaggering behind her as they passed behind the couch. She looked perplexed, Seiko turned her smile on Annalise and reached for her.

“Annalise,” she hummed, “You look so pretty tonight, those red lights are hitting just right.” She hiccuped, “Wish I had my camera.” Annalise shook her head, “I thought I lost you.” The girl (Kendra something?) looked between them curiously, paused, and then scooted over, “Take a seat, we’re just taking a break here.” Annalise exhaled and squished into the place next to them, her eyes flitting over everything and anything.

“Had a drink yet?” Seiko asked and Annalise just shook her head in reply.

“Shame.” A girl with a dark mohawk and a cat-like curl to her lips said, sitting crossed legged on the opposite couch. She reached into her pocket and took out a cherry-red lighter in the shape of a tongue.

Seiko opened her mouth to say something, but a high-pitched yelp interrupted. Seiko turned, Annalise had reeled back, kicking her legs into the table between them and climbing the couch backward. Her eyes were huge. “Is smoking allowed in here?” The girl shrugged, nonplussed, “I know for damn sure this isn’t.” She took out a rolled up piece of paper and put it between her lips, leaning her head back and exposing an expanse of smooth skin. Seiko had the sudden urge to lick it.

“What is it?” Annalise watched her movements, lips parted and shaking anxiety apparent in her movements.

The girl grinned smoothly, “A happy stick. Sweet Mary Jane.” That was pretty obvious.

Annalise just nodded slowly, mouth falling open as the girl flicked the lighter to life, the little flame danced in place. Annalise’s eyes followed it closely as the girl lit the end of her reefer, Annalise swallowed, “My mom always warned me about that stuff.” The girl took a deep inhale, it smelled sweet and thick. Sne answered on the exhale with a huge plume wafting up, “don’t worry about it.” She grinned, “momma knows best.” Annalise watched the whole process in silence, waiting for something. Seiko herself got distracted and started playing ‘Hand Slap’ with Kendra. She kept losing.

“Your reflexes suck,” Kendra frowned, “Are you even trying?” Seiko got her hands slapped for the fifth time, a red welt forming on the top of them. She screwed her face up in concentration, “You’re more sober than me, it’s not fair.” “Drink some more water!”

Seiko rolled her eyes and complied, then a voice spoke up.

“Could I try it? I mean, if that’s okay.” Seiko swiveled around, alert, she almost forgot Annalise was sitting there, neatly tucked away in the corner and watching.

The girl, who’s name was Mikenna, slid her eyes across the room as cool as oil slicks. Her mouth split open in another grin, “Sure thing.” She languidly handed over the blunt, “Don’t inhale too deep the first time, sip it like a kiss.” Annalise’s cheeks pinked, shoulders drawing together and taking the blunt with jerky, questioning movements. She nodded briefly.

“Like this?” Annalise brought it to her lips tentatively.

“Sure.” Mikenna gestured widely.

Annalise paused, thinking for a moment, she took a long inhale in the way you give a firm handshake, solid and focused. She broke out into a sputtering cough the next second, Seiko patted her on the back as she hacked into her fist. “Slower!” Mikenna instructed.

Annalise squeezed her eyes shut, brought the blunt back up again, barely parted her lips and took a drag. The smoke came out of her mouth in a snaking puff, winding and soft, she doesn’t cough this time.

“You got it!”

“Woo! She’s an art kid now,” Annalise gave a brief whoop and they all laughed. Annalise took another hit, watching the little burning end the way preachers watch baptisms, reverent. She never took her eyes off the thing as she and Mikenna passed it back and forth, taking a series of hits. Seiko observed mutley as her agoraphobic friend learned how to smoke weed, she watched the plumes of blooming smoke and Annalise’s pupils expanding like bursting fireworks. Seiko took another shot of whiskey and laughed along with the others at some joke.

Her head lulled back in place and time became thick white ink in the back of her mind, spotty and barely there.

“Let’s dance.” A voice breached her blank thoughts, sudden as a lightning strike, Annalise stood over Seiko, red-eyed and limp-jointed.

“Hmm?”

“Dance,” Annalise smiled and reached for Seiko’s hand, her fingers trailing out from the abyss and grasping for her. “Out there.” Their hands slid together and Annalise tugged gently on Seiko.

“Okay,” she replied simply, the water was running through her system and her senses were coming back into place like lost puzzle pieces. Luckily, she still had enough goose left in her to let herself be led to the dance floor.

Annalise was giggling and covering her mouth, squeezing Seiko’s hand like it was a secret between them, Seiko felt weightless again. They wedged themselves onto the edge of the dance floor, a horde of shaking bodies jerking back and forth around them. The music pounded wordlessly and they fit together on the sticky white floors face to face.

They giggled for another moment before starting to rock back and forth experimentally, leaving enough room for Jesus but catching each other’s eyes and smiling. They hovered closer, shimmying and throwing their hands up to the beat.

They swayed and touched lightly and tried to collapse into something more than ‘almost.’

The breath left Seiko’s body when someone bumped into her and she stumbled into Annalise, crashing into her and their bodies coming together like peanut butter and jelly bread slices. Annalise didn’t pull away, instead intertwining their hands and pulling her close. Their bodies slid into one and a melting heat coursed through Seiko like river rapids.

She drew her eyes up and they’re rolling along to the music, sandwiched together and mixing like shaken martinis. Seiko exhaled through her nose, something feverish and prickling across her skin, their legs slotted and chests touched lightly.

She wet her lips, “this is good.” It felt dumb to say out loud, she glanced up shyly at Annalise’s loose hair and bright eyes, “You look good.” Her hands felt dumb, her feet felt dumb, and her head swam with dumb. The rest of her was completely electric.

Annalise tapped their foreheads together, “You too,” She said gently, wrapping her arms around Seiko’s neck, sweaty skin melding and eyes burning. “Thanks for inviting me out.” She leaned closer with each word, “It’s even better than I thought.” She was a hair away, sticky music and rhythm consuming them on all sides.

“No problem,” her voice cracked, she grinned up, “I just can’t believe you smoked a joint.” Annalise laughed, lighting up like a firecracker, “I just hoped to get up the nerve to get you alone.” Seiko’s heart beat so fast and hard she thought it might crash through her chest and out into the bloody world, abandoning her there forever. Her whole body froze despite the grinding and the pooling warmth inside her. “You didn’t need to do all that, I think you’re,” she floundered, mouth gaping open and closed, “…cool.” She finished weakly.

Annalise giggled and her breath is hot against Seiko’s cheek, “I think you’re amazing.” She felt the touch of almost-skin against skin, “and I’ve been waiting too long for too many things.” The actual words were drowned out by the thrumming music, but their lips crushed together with the force of honey bees into flower hearts, ready to suck the pollen dry. Gentle and needy, the first touch is rainwater against burnt hilltops.

Her lips are slightly parched, warm and pulsing like a drumbeat, it didn’t matter that they were in a dim club in the middle of a distant city with nothing but strangers around them. They kiss, clumsily, forcefully, Seiko’s thoughts jammed like cars at a traffic light and she melted into the moment.

Annalise’s hands went through Seiko’s hair and Seiko wound her arms around the taller’s girls waist and pulled her closer. They deepened the kiss in the flurry of music and sweet heaving bodies. Little noises caught in Seiko’s throat and it’s a tunnel she’s falling down, down, down into with no safety rope, tilting her chin up and getting lost.

The union was wet and sloppy, hot as fevers and bruising her chaste lips, everything a mix of sensation threading together in one infinite moment. Annalise kissed like she wanted to eat her, hands running down Seiko’s whole body and teeth nipping at jawline.

It was better than she imagined.

Annalise had never been outside her house, Seiko had never named wanting anything at all. Wanting was for people with names in the yearbook and clothes from anywhere than a thrift shop. And it was all fire ants on a honey hill, kittens rolling in catnip, turnedo storms on flat plains, none of the embrace was elegant but it really didn’t need to be.

A blur of lips and grinding and wetness, it felt like hours, someone told her later that it was hours. Seiko eventually broke the entwinement in a fit of panic and went to choke down some water. They found each other again after a brief recovery, retiring to the nearest couch and falling into one another.

Seiko burst with the world and it burst back.

Her mouth became puffy and cracked with chapped heat, neck littered with tiny purple swelling marks and everything aching with pouring light. It was all a wish of wish she had never managed before.

They took an uber home and parted with a kiss that broke her in two, Seiko walked home from Greenbriar on foot and didn’t feel a single drop of cold. She was electric.

——————

Seiko woke up the next morning and she was not electric anymore, in fact, she was very much grey thunderstorms with no lightning. Very very bleak. And loud.

She groaned and turned over in bed, groping around to close her blinds and sleep forever. Her head hurt, her knee hurt where she she kicked a chair, her back hurt, and her breath tasted like sour candy left out to rot in the sun.

She had gone out last night.

Seiko rolled over and reached for the small trash can by her bed, she sat there and felt queasy for at least a couple minutes before stumbling up to go find some water. Mercifully, her mother didn’t come check on her that morning and Seiko returned to her bed unhindered.

It was hard to process the night. It was hard to even guess why she did the things she did.

The other part of her was amazed she did them at all, was it real? Had she kissed a girl? Had she touched her hair and felt the swell of music and warmth inside her? What was that night real? Seiko replayed the moments over and over in head, even the blurry parts that were more sensation than images. But the kiss was real.

She sighed into her pillow and was helpless against the next pull of sleep, dreaming soft things in fits until her headache slowly faded into just an aching pulse. It was well past noon when she finally managed to drag herself from bed again, shower, and feel like any sort of person.

Seiko sat cross-legged on her bed in a fluffy towel, opening her email to check on her grades and any Monday assignments (she prayed she hadn’t forgot any).

Instead, she felt her soul leave her body as she read the worst email header of her life: Goodbye.

Seiko could barely process the word, much less who is it was from. It had unicorn in the name.

Goodbye.

Thank you for everything Seiko, it means more to me than you will ever know. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Go live your life, forget me, know that I am so sorry and forget me.

Love,

A

Seiko’s eyes went wide, she sat there numbly for a full minute.

“Of course she would,” Seiko gnashed her teeth, “Of course that fakey psychic witch would,” something burned in her center, “Enough is enough Madame Lynne.” She said the name mockingly and burst to her feet, only swaying slightly in place.

Enough was enough.

She wrote out a quick manifesto and threw on some new clothes: children don’t belong in cages Madame L. Children deserve to see the world and make their own mistakes.

It sounded reasonable enough to her, she could start with reason at least and then resort to other things later.

Seiko still had to wait another hour before she was less groggy, less achy, and less panicky in her fritzing nerves. She knew what she had to do nonetheless.

When she finally left her room to stuff a sandwich down her throat and find her shoes her mom was waiting in the living room. She was sitting on the couch absently watching the TV, “Did you have a fun night?” She asked without looking up.

“Oh… yeah,” Seiko just nodded, “It was pretty great.” Her mom’s sober crows-feet eyes looked up at her. She spoke dryly, “Learn anything?” Seiko made a non-committed gesture, “Maybe.” She frowned, “I think so.” Her mom just sighed and shook her head, “I saw you put your shoes away in the bread box when you got in. At 5 O’clock.” “5 O’clock,” Seiko repeated, “Thanks, I’ll go get them. Also,” she hesitated, deciding whether to go all in or not, “Also, I might call in sick Monday.” Her mom narrowed her eyes, “Oh?” Seiko just nodded and tried haltingly to explain, “I have something important to do. It might… need a lot of attention.” Her mom gave her a piercing looking, all folded brows and a discerning stare. She lifted her chin up, “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” Seiko lifted her chin up, “Thanks mom. Thanks for everything.” She shuffled over to kiss her mom on the cheek, her mom blinked rapidly in reply.

“Oh my God,” she turned to her in horror, “How bad is it?” Seiko just gave a weak smile, “I need to go help a friend.” She waved, “I promise it’s important.” “Important enough to miss school?” Her mom kept frowning.

She gave her a thumbs up, “You betcha.” Her mom shook her head but waved her toward the door, “Don’t make it a habit.”

She shoved her shoes on, grabbed a bagged sandwich, and stuffed her fully charged cell phone into her inside pocket. She might need it. She turned as she reached the door, “I love you!”

Her mom just gaped, “Jesus, be careful.” Seiko’s mom said forcefully, but didn’t stop her as she raced out the door. The older woman tutted to herself, “Wild girl… Be home for dinner!”

Seiko streaked down the apartment steps and back into the light.

———-

Seiko once again made her way to the wedding-cake house on Townsend Street, paperless this time and taller than she had ever been. It was quiet, hushed with grey misty skies and yellow parched winter grass.

It hadn’t snowed in a few weeks and everything was frosted and bare across the naked trees and shuttered houses. It felt appropriate as Seiko made her way up the hill.

“Miss Lynne,” she practiced with herself, “I know you might not think it’s any of my business, but there’s something important I have to say,” she drew a deep breath, “I know you have your daughter’s best interests at heart, probably, maybe, but locking her away is absolutely the wrong thing! She’s a person, not a mint-condition action figure, last night was good for her!”

She mused over the words, rearranging them little by little, “She’s a young woman, not a fancy tea set to be put aside in a cupboard! Take it from me, I’m mostly-functioning, I mean I get decent grades. I mean, I’m allowed to roam around and my parents trust me to not mess up too bad. That’s good!”

She couldn’t quite make the right arguments, even to herself, but hadn’t she been trekking around neighborhoods on her bike since she before she could remember? Hadn’t she been fine? Wasn’t she evidence enough? Seiko couldn’t even imagine what Madame Lynne had to worry about in a rich neighborhood like hers anyway.

The house came up much faster than Seiko would have liked, all too familiar and yet alien at the same time. She stood on her tiptoes to peer through the fence and over the hedge, all the curtains were drawn on the house’s long Georgian windows. Seiko held her breath at the sight, pursing her lips together and inching her way toward the gate, there was no turning back now.

She touched the cold iron latch of the fairygate, resting her hands on it’s clasp and waiting for something. She closed her eyes and pushed it soundlessly open, it was time to go in. Seiko kept her back broom-straight and marched up the drive before she could talk herself out of it. She had been their paper girl, maybe that meant something.

She knocked on the door three times, jaw set and resolve hard as a cherry pit in her teeth.

“Okay, you see,” she muttered, practicing one last time, “It’s time to face the facts… This is no way to prepare your daughter for college!” Parents cared about that, they were really into colleges.

She knocked on the door again.

She counted to ten, no reply. Seiko started to huff, “Hello?” She called, “Not answering me is really unnecessary, I just want to talk!” Seiko was starting to find this childish, she screwed her face up and stomped on the hard porch. “Locking kids away isn’t good! And if you keep this up, well, I might just… call somebody. Somebody you won’t like!” She threatened, wondering if she’d actually need to prove Annalise was being mistreated to the cops.

She wondered how she might actually change things, how a conversation like ‘I think you should switch your entire parenting style’ went.

Seiko waited five more minutes with no reply.

She began to circle the house, tapping on the glass and trying to peer in, “Miss Lynne?” All the curtains were still drawn and the house was quiet as a graveyard angel, a sleeping beast to the world. “Annalise?”

Seiko circled the house again, coming back to the front door. She almost went cross-eyed staring at the big white doors, waiting for something. Seiko weighed her next move carefully, holding a single idea in place and poking at it.

There was no other choice.

“I’m coming in now.” She called out as loud as she dared, voice wobbling slightly, she turned the golden door handle and the back of her neck prickled. It wasn’t locked, the door swung open easily and revealed a dim empty house, faceless and unlit.

She gulped, this was the part in horror movies where the protagonist needed to run away, where you yelled at your TV ‘just don’t go on!’ The part where you wonder if they’re idiots or not.

Seiko took a step inside, shoulders hunched and eyes sweeping the gloomy foyer, it held a grand-staircase, blank white walls, and a short hall leading to a massive dining room. The stairs had thick pale carpet, grand wooden handrails, and a shadowed upper story. It all lacked many personal items, just a large plumy plant in the corner and coat rack off to the side.

The house smelled of dust and musky green things.

Seiko took a few more shaky footsteps inside, if the fence was the fairy gate this was surely the witch’s house.

“Anyone home?” She lifted her chin up, heart in her throat and eyes combing the emptiness, “Madame Lynne, I just have a few things to say.”

“How few?” She jerked around, someone was standing behind the door, “We prefer our deliveries outside paper girl.” Before Seiko could react, a clear crystal ball was raised in Madame Lynne’s outstretched hands, it caught the light for just a moment. A rainbow speckled across Seiko’s cheek as the ball was hoisted above her.

She didn’t even get a second to cry out, Madame Lynne brought the crystal ball down hard, pain bloomed at the top of Seiko’s head and shock sunk in like gushing ice water. She crumpled to her knees and her vision quickly spotted black.

She thought she heard a strangled cry from up above, but the world dimmed into a nothingness and was gone just as quickly.

——————–

There were voices, voices, piercing light, and an acute acrid taste in Seiko’s mouth. Seiko wanted to groan and roll away into some distant corner of sleep again.

“This is for your own good,” a voice snapped sharply.

“You don’t know what’s good for me!” a voice, Annalise, it must have been Annalise, hissed back, “This all for you.” There was a growl and a dark undercurrent to her words.

Seiko cracked her eyes open, she flinched, a pain was nestling deep in her forehead, a cruel pounding that thrashed around her frontal lobe, and this one wasn’t from a hangover. Dried blood ran down the left side of her face, making her skin stiff and eyelashes clump together when she blinked. Seiko squinted into the room around her.

It was bright, bright as flash bombs, pure white light shone from up above- a crystal chandelier hanging off a gilded silver fixture, casting diamond streaks of light and long shadows on the walls. The room itself looked like a grand bedroom, a dresser and vanity were pushed off to the side on a silvery grey carpet. Thick curtains covered the windows and the air was warm with blasting furnace heat, Seiko tensed, a large circle was drawn in the very center of the room. It looked rough, homemade, and wet, crude symbols were drawn along the edges and two blurry figures perched just outside the lines. The room smelled like unseen smoke and rotting things.

Seiko’s lips curled back, she tried to move her hands and found them tightly bound. She looked down, her wrists were tied crushingly to the arms of a high-backed chair. She had been captured.

“What the fuck?” She rocked back and forth in place, “WHAT THE FUCK.” Madame Lynne turned, she was wearing one of her dark shawls and a maroon head-covering. She looked over to Seiko like she was an unwanted chunk of mold on a piece of sweet bread.

“Who does this?” Seiko struggled against her restraints, “What the hell is this?”

“Seiko, stay calm, wait,” She looked up sharply, Annalise was sitting across from her, wearing a light blue nightdress and worry lines across every surface of her face. She was similarly tied up to a tall kitchen chair with sailor’s rope and immobilized. She was noticeably bedraggled, somehow paler and more worn, like a ghost of herself. There was something dented about her cheeks, shadowed and lifeless. Her were eyes dull and tired, a strip of tape or maybe plastic was stuck on her left cheek.

“Annalise!” She called out and tried to rock forward, she turned on Madame Lynne hotly, “Child services would definitely have your ass for this,” She narrowed her eyes, “What is it, some sort of occult thing?” She glanced at the circle, “Like, moms sacrificing their kids to satan kind of fucked-up?” She watched Annalise look bitterly over to her mom, gaze dark and unflinching. “She’s not my mom.”

“Of course I am,” Madame Lynne waved her hand dismissively, “What else would I be?” She snorted, then swiftly turned toward Seiko, stalking over to her in a sweeping shapeless dress and with outstretched clawed hands, “And you, the delivery girl,” she licked her lips, “What were you thinking? Smoke, really? Really?! Do you even know what you’ve done?” She stood back up, “Of course not, little fool.” Seiko rolled her eyes with a special type of gumption, “It was just weed, Jesus. It’s not going to kill her.” Madame Lynne lunged forward, one thin hand grabbing Seiko’s chin and jerking her head around to look her directly in the eye. “You don’t know anything.” She whispered acidicly, expression wide and empty, “You don’t what you’ve done.” Seiko sucked in a short breath, “I know you can’t treat her like this. I know this is probably pretty fucking illegal.” Madame Lynne’s lips twitched up, she released Seiko roughly and righted yourself. “You think the law means anything here?” A type of feral humor crossed her mismatched features, “Mortal enforcement wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Mortal…?” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Okay, I guess you’re definitely an alien or some sort of weird demon then. Good to know.” Madame Lynne turned to her slowly, “no, no,” she sang, “just a normal psychic woman,” she looked up at the ceiling, tone suddenly turning weary and sour. “It’s a story you’ve probably heard before.” “Oh trust me, I bet I haven’t.” Seiko tugged at her bonds, trying to loosen the grip just enough to slip her wrist out. “Try me.”

“Wait, wait, no,” Annalise shook her head vigorously, eyes wide, looking adrift and slightly sick to her stomach. “It’s not what you think… it’s not important.” Madame Lynne gave a cackling laugh, “Oh yes, you’ve heard it before. A woman who desperately wants a daughter, someone to hold and care for.” Her eyes looked misty and distant, lost somewhere. “And to care for her when she’s old and unwell.”

Seiko noticed Madame Lynne reaching into her pocket, absently retrieving something curved, pointed, and glittering from one of the deep folds. Seiko’s breath hitched, it looked like an item from an assassins medieval weapons set, a knife half the size of Seiko’s forearm balanced in the older woman’s hand.

Sweat gathered on the back of Seiko’s neck, she pulled on the ropes again.

“You wanted a daughter,” her eyes darted back to the knife in her hands, “So you had Annalise. Yeah, that’s how it works.” Madame Lynne shook her head with forlorn. “I couldn’t.” She sighed and rounded the witches circle in the bright room. “It was not in my fortunes.” Seiko frowned, tilting her head to the side. “So you adopted a daughter just to fuck with her later?” Annalise’s whole face collapsed, she twisted forward desperately, “Please… Seiko.” It sounded small, “I don’t want you to… I don’t…” She choked slightly, like a fish drowning on land.

Seiko shot her a concerned look and then turned back to the psychic. “You didn’t have to tie me to a chair for this speech.” Madame Lynne’s lips curled back, “I thought you should know what you’re going to part of.” She presented a cheerless smile. “I couldn’t have a daughter.” She continued, “So I made one.” “… Okay,” she looked back to Annalise who didn’t meet her eyes.

“I poured my love and my breath and my soul into paper and wax, pasting her together one layer at a time. A perfect beautiful daughter that I could hold and care for,” Madame Lynne sniffed, Seiko still wasn’t processing this. “The Old Ones saw me. They saw my heart’s desire, my greatest wish, all my work, and gave pity.” Madame Lynne looked up at the ceiling, a certain reverence there. “They brought my daughter to life for me.” Seiko eyes went wide, “What?” She squinted, “What?” Madame Lynne closed her eyes, “They breathed life into my beautiful paper doll.” She sighed, “and brought life to the lifeless.” Seiko sputtered, “Iike Pinocchio?”

Madame Lynne looked back to her, unsmiling. “No.”

Annalise gave a weak, sad hiccup of a laugh. “My nose doesn’t grow.” Madame Lynne tutted, “She could walk and talk, feel, learn, think, grow, live as a real girl.” Seiko’s heart started to beat faster, this was too strange. “Come on,” she relaxed into a tight smile, “Seriously? You want me to believe Annalise is some sort of… paper… person?” She moved her wrists back and forth, loosening them, “That’s crazy!”

Seiko should have come sooner to this nuthouse and done something.

“Crazy?” Madame Lynne barked a laugh, “Of course. Of course!” She turned around in a tight circle to face her daughter, “Crazy.” She reached for the tape on Annalise’s sunken cheek, “Crazy… Do you know what smoke does to paper?” She grabbed the strip. “To wax?” Seiko glared, “What the hell are you doing?” “Weakens it!” Madame Lynne yanked at the strip, a vicious tearing sound filled the room.

“No!” Seiko called out breathlessly as a chunk of Annalise’s skin was ripped away in one grisly tug. But no blood came out. No fluid, no muscle revealed or skin at all to behold.

Annalise cried out in pain, but underneath that layer of skin was just another layer: paper white, smooth, and blemishless.

Seiko gulped deeply, “You shouldn’t… do that.” She said weakly, her entire world turning upside down.

“A paper girl,” the psychic continued darkly, “can’t go out in the sun without her wax melting, can’t go into the rain without sagging, can’t touch the snow without disintegrating. Can’t eat, can’t drink,” She snarled, “I have done nothing but keep my daughter safe!”

The blood drained from Seiko’s face, she glanced between Annalise and her mom, trying to parse through this. She focused on the other girl, “Annalise…?” It was soft, a question, probing at her gently.

Annalise looked miserably down at her knees and a few long seconds passed, “I’m not her thing.” She whispered quietly, “I have my own thoughts, wants, my own life.” She jerked her head up, “I’m not her thing!”

Seiko’s mouth fell open. “No… you’re not?” She was still trying to wrap her mind around being able to make a person out of paper and wax. Madame Lynne waved at Annalise dismissively, “We’ve been over this. I needed to keep you safe,” She exhaled, “but this one.” She turned on Seiko with her nasty gleaming knife, “this one is going to change everything for us.” Seiko leaned back in her chair, “Maybe… plastic wrap?” She offered with a feeble smile, “We could laminate her.” “Haha,” the woman’s voice echoed, “You always were a funny one.” She leered, “Maybe Annalise will inherit that when you give your life for hers.”

“No?” Seiko squeaked shrilly.

“I was against such things before, but well, you broke in.” She laughed, “Who can a blame a homeowner for defending herself?” Seiko jerked her head back and forth, looking between the two women, “Annalise?” She asked in a shrill voice, sweat beading down her temples, “Haha, jokes up, nice one guys. I’ve learned my lesson, no more coming in uninvited.” Madame Lynne bent her head down, “Bone and blood.” She started to chant, “Bone and blood, bone and blood, take this flesh and take this soul, take from the corporeal make to the core, b-” “You can’t do this!” Seiko shrieked, the knife was coming carefully toward her unmarked forearm, ready to sink it’s teeth in. “You can’t make her a real girl through me!”

Madame Lynne wasn’t listening.

“No,” a thunk came from across the room, the chair across from Seiko careening over in one loud crash. Seiko and Madame Lynne snapped to attention. “You can’t.”

Annalise had ripped one hand free of the ropes, wrenching her skin to ribbons and using what was left to untie the other. She rolled out of her chair, raising to her feet with a trail of uncoiled paper hanging loosely from her left forearm.

Madame Lynne straightened up with a forced smile, “What are you doing, darling?” Annalise lifted her chin high in the air, “What I should have done a long time ago.” She went sprinting across the room, spitting and tearing like a feral cat on the attack. “Put. That. Down!”

They crashed into each other. Mother and daughter, wrestling for a silver glittering knife.

Seiko wiggled against her own harsh ropes, ugly red abscesses forming along her forearm as she struggled, she managed to loosen one of her hands enough to yank her palm out. “Ah!” A burn scorched across her skin, she gritted her teeth and tugged through the pain.

Meanwhile, Annalise grappled with her mother, clawing at her face with her battered hand and a fiery hissing force, a battle cry spilling out of her from years of bottled grief.

“I’m not yours!” She roared over and over, “You can’t have me!”

Seiko ripped at her shackles, freeing one hand and fumbling with the other tight knot with shaking fingers and breathless movements. She unbound her wrist in one swift tug and bolted to her feet instinctually, ignoring the throbbing in her arms and head.

“Annalise!” She called, voice rasping and heart pounding as if it might collapse in her chest like a straw birds nest in a hurricane. She reached out, “I’m free, we’re free, Annalise!”

Annalise glanced up from where she wrestled her mom. She looked down again, gave a final roar and tore the knife out of her mom’s hand. She took the weapon in hand, lifted it high, and threw it viciously across the room. It lodged into the wood of the house with a twang and Annalise leapt to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she wailed and reached for Seiko, jumping up as Madame Lynne dove for the knife again.

Seiko grabbed Annalise’s good hand. “Don’t even worry.” She tried to smile, “I’ve had weirder nightmares than this.”

Annalise cringed, “It’s not over yet.”

They throw themselves at the door and toward escape. Seiko twisted the lock open and they shoot out into the dark hall with furious feet and numb legs. Annalise led them through the house, turning down a hallway and toward the quiet grand staircase. “Down, down, down.” Annalise yanked them down the stairs at a breakneck pace, running as a wordless howl chased their progress toward the blurry grey outside.

Seiko overtook her as they reached the front door, “We’re going to get you out of here.” She promised, “You’re going to be out of this house for good.” “Seiko,” Annalise squeezed Seiko’s hand painfully as Seiko tore the door open, spilling in weak wintery light. “Seiko, what she said was… true.” Annalise relented disjointedly, looking down at her feet. “I’m not… like you.”

“I don’t care,” Seiko said fiercely, “You can be a girl made of snow or cat litter or whatever the hell, but I know you’re a person! And you don’t have to stay here,” She stepped closer to her, eyes softening, “Not if you don’t want to.” Annalise looked between Seiko, the blurry outside, and then back up to her wailing mother upstairs. She set her jaw, voice thick with brimming emotion, “I don’t want to stay here.” Seiko pulled them out the door, out into the bleak day and the smooth path out, out, out. They made their way down the driveway.

“But,” Annalise followed limply behind, mind obviously whirling as they ran. “Where will I live?” She asked the open air suddenly, “Where will I go?” “Move now,” Seiko yanked open the fairy gate, “Think later.” They only had a moment to hold their breath on the precipice of the yard before a banging came from behind them. Madame Lynne burst out the front door and flung herself onto the porch rail, hair falling down in black waves and eyes bulging. “If you leave you can’t come back!” She spat, “You’re nothing but paper, I won’t have you after this.”

Annalise hovered at the edge of the property, eyes unmoving and clouded. She drew a deep breath, “I’d rather be nothing than be your ornament!” She shouted firmly, squeezed Seiko’s hand and then pulled them both through the gate. Then they were running again, panting, howling, skipping down the sidewalk toward the highway and out of Greenbriar. Out, out, out.

Madame Lynne didn’t follow.

“Wow! That was amazing, awesome, fantastic Annalise,” Seiko cheered as they danced into the middle of the empty road, hot with adrenaline and a vicious type of joy. “You did it.” Annalise looked up, smiling wearily, “It’s over.” She sighed, “it’s over.”

Seiko vibrated, “You can live in my room, I’ll roll a mat out. My mom won’t be happy, but I’m sure once I explain it to her she’ll have to. And we can sleep over and I’ll make pancakes in the morning.” Annalise was slowing down, dark eyes looking up the sky. “Seiko,” she said slowly, evenly. “This is everything I ever wanted.” Seiko glanced back at her and laughed, “Don’t say that yet, you haven’t even had the

pancakes.” Her thoughts were already going over logistics, Annalise had missed a lot of school and a lot of socializing. It would have to be a process.

But that could be handled, it could all be handled.

And then a fat wet snowdrop fell. Wet and soggy and spiked with ice, just like the downpour all those years ago with two young girls and a missing earring. The rain fell.

“No,” Seiko looked up, the world slowing into a single tiny moment. “No.” She turned, Annalise’s cheek had smeared into a wet slushy white paste, flesh sinking in like a deflating party balloon. Seiko’s eyes went wide with horror.

“Hurry,” she pushed on Annalise, “Let’s get you to a shelter. I have some… paper mache at the house, I can fix that.” Annalise just shook her head and stayed in place, more heavy droplet’s hit her forehead and shoulders, tearing at her gently.

“Go.” Her voice was wispy, watery with unshed tears, “There’s no place for me out there, I have no money, no family, no home… Go Seiko, live your life, live, you deserve it.” She stood in place, “just… remember me.” Seiko staggered backward, grabbing at Annalise. “You deserve a fucking life too,” tears stung at her eyes, she pushed on Annalise to move, to walk, but the other girl didn’t budge. Seiko gnashed her teeth, “We didn’t… we didn’t get you of there just to end here. You deserve it so much, look at me,” she sobbed, “Look at me, I’m not letting you just stand here.” Her breaths came out in distressed tiny bursts. Annalise wrapped her arms around Seiko’s neck, “that night,” Annalise’s whole face was sagging down, weighed down by pelts of snow. “It was the best moment of my entire life. Everything, it was worth every second.” “Goddammit!” Seiko planted her feet, bent down and thrust her arms underneath Annalise’s knees and armpits, hoisting her up in the air bridal style. “Stop it. It’s not going to end like this!”

Annalise took a shaky breath, “you’re going to have such a beautiful life, I can see it.” “Shut up!” Seiko ran, barely feeling her legs as she carried the light girl over to the nearest shelter. They take refuge under a large bus stop overhang. “You’re the one that’s beautiful, your life will be too.” “Look at me.” Annalise breathed, Seiko kept her gaze on the flurry of white sky above, biting her lip in two as she did. “Please.” Annalise begged, “I promise… it’ll be okay.”

Seiko forced herself to look down. Annalise was melting, skin peeling away from her face and tissues sinking inward like holes in quicksand, leaving nothing behind. “Kiss me.” Seiko’s choked on the air, tears spilling out across her cheeks in thick sheets, running freely down her face. “N-no.” She shook her head vigorously. “You’re not a thing, you’re a person, a person, you hear me? You have your whole life to figure stuff out. A whole life… to kiss.” Annalise licked her lips, leaving no moisture behind, she was folding inward, becoming even lighter in Seiko’s arms. Coming apart.

Annalise wiped gently at Seiko’s streaming tears, “I can’t come with you.” She whispered, “I knew that, I always knew it.” She took a labored breath. “This was always going to happen. But at least… it’s a good happening.”

“Fuck, no,” Seiko begged, “it’s not good, it’s awful. This can’t… I can’t…” Annalise gave a weak smile, “Go. See the world, fall in love, make something, be anything, you were always made for life Seiko.” Seiko shook her head vigorously, “You can’t,” she was hyperventilating, “You can’t talk like that.” Annalise closed her eyes, “I can’t stay.” “No!” She wailed, “You can’t. I- I love you.”

Annalise just nodded, “Oh Seiko, I won’t be the last one to love you,” she stroked her cheek, “there’s so much for you.”

And then she was kissing her. Wet and crumpling and filled with a vigorous force she couldn’t explain. Annalise’s hands ran through Seiko’s damp hair and they kiss with the anguish of bursting stars and holes boring into the ozone. It’s harsh and gentle as a settling frost and whisper on the wind.

They kiss and kiss, tears spilling from her eyes and a hard begging in every crevice of her: no, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

She kissed until nothing but cold air touched her lips. Seiko opened her eyes, she was holding a limp nightdress and wet paper folding into a pile of unrecognizable mush, disintegrating at every angle. A collapsed paper doll. “No!” She shrieked, tearing at her vocal cords in a shattering sob, “Annalise, Annalise,” she pulled the wet paper to her chest and rocked it back and forth. “Say something, goddammit, Annalise! Annalise, I love you.” The wet paper didn’t respond, just folded silently into the soggy ground and disappeared with nothing but Seiko and the snow as witnesses. Seiko cried until there was nothing left to cry.

—————–

Seiko quit the soccer team. Liza said she understood, Seiko told her that maybe their friendship could use a small break. She told June she was making her own film, they could watch it together sometime.

She told her mom she loved her, she told her father he was doing a good job, and whispered to her little sister she was going to make a better path forward, for the both of them.

She told them that she liked girls, that she liked movies, and that she liked not working and going out sometimes. They took her out for a long drive and Seiko drove the hole way back herself.

Seiko put her pen to paper that night: Dear Annalise,

I won’t forget you. Her hands shook like dried autumn leaves, I’m 16 now, maybe I wasn’t before. I wish you were here. I’m going to the movies with a girl, I’m going to start reading that book about trees you liked.

I’m going to go live my life, whatever you meant by that, and I’m going to make something beautiful. For us.

Love, always,

Seiko.

[qfantasydragon]

Supersoakers

Author’s note: This is part 3 in an ongoing fic. You can find part 1 here and part 2 here. It’s also up on AO3 (x).

Part 4

Three days later, Aziraphale’s sword was quietly picked up by a shipping company.  

“You don’t want to keep it?” Crowley double-checked as Aziraphale bustled about, opening up the bookshop. The angel paused thoughtfully as he settled behind the counter.  

“It does contain some of... well, me, I suppose, but I like to think it’s doing some good out there in the world. Not all wars are fought for the wrong reasons.” Crowley heard the spaces between the words and understood what his angel wasn’t saying. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to war.  

“Besides,” Aziraphale continued, “If worst comes to worst, I’m fairly certain I can call it back to me now.”  

“Nnngyeah, I guess that’s a good point,” the bookshop was full of sun, and Crowley was resisting the urge to find a bright corner to curl up in. Course, behind the register was pretty bright too...  

There was a jangle from the door and loud chatter spilled into the bookshop. The angel and the demon turned and saw a tangle of limbs, hair, and children that eventually resolved itself to be Them. 

“Hello Crowley, hello Aziraphale,” Adam greeted them cheerfully from the front of the pack, Dog eyeing Aziraphale suspiciously at his feet, “Mum and Dad are a few stores down, and they said we could come wait in here as long as we promised to be good.”  

“Errm, yes, hello.” Aziraphale blinked as Brain meandered toward a stack of particularly old first editions with his fingers covered in what appeared to be melted chocolate. Wensleydale was headed toward some old encyclopedias and Pepper was scanning the whole area with a disproving look. Crowley was considering the dignity of staging a strategic retreat and whether or not that was considered bad form in front of the former Antichrist.  

“Wicked!” Adam exclaimed delightedly, “You’ve got the books!” and made a beeline for the red covers that hadn’t been there before the Apocalypse-that-wasn't.  

Crowley was slithering towards the back when Aziraphale gave him a desperate look. Crowley shook his head frantically. Aziraphale switched to pleading and the demon’s shoulder’s slumped. He never could resist that look.  

"Not very sportsmanlike,” he murmured to his angel as he strode back into the bookshop.  

“I have no idea what you mean, I’m sure,” Aziraphale responded with a grateful smile. Crowley snorted,  

“Sssure you don’t, angel,” he responded lazily as he snapped his fingers. Brians's hands were suddenly free of chocolate as he tugged out a faded book. “All right you lot, keep your hands off the merchandise. These are all expensive, so unless you want to be paying for them...”  

“But they’re just grubby old books,” Pepper complained. Aziraphale’s eye twitched. “How can they be expensive?”  

“Maybe they’ve got stuff hidden inside them?” Wensleydale suggested. “Like rubies or daggers!”  

“Adam?” Aziraphale sharply interrupted the conversation, “What is it?” Adam had reached the window where the red-covered books were kept and had gotten as far as taking one out before he had frozen.  

“They’re coming,” he sighed in a thoughtful tone. “And they’re not pleased with either of you.” The rest of Them paused and looked over at Adam. Half faded memories of a forest and a storm tugged at them uneasily, and they all bunched together.  

“Who’s coming, my dear boy?”  

“His lot,” Adam gestured vaguely to Crowley, “The person with the flies. And others. Lots of others.” Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged grim looks.  

“Alright kiddos, time for you all to head out. Go on, shoo,” Crowley did his best to shove them towards the door.  

“But we want to help!” protested Adam.  

“You don’t want to be involved with this. The last time was bad enough,” Aziraphale stepped out from behind the counter, closing the register.  

“But I bet we can be really useful! We’ve played war loads of times!”  

“Yeah, and I’m sure we’ve got lots of good ideas!”  

“Like what?” Aziraphale tartly asked Them. They all considered for a moment.  

“I saw a movie on TV where demons can’t cross holy water,” Wensleydale offered, “We could ring the place with the stuff!” Crowley winced slightly, six-thousand-year-old habits being hard to break.  

“Demons can step over holy water just fine,” Aziraphale responded, casting a worried look at Crowley, “they just can’t touch it.”  

“Or else what?” Brian asked.  

“Or else they melt,” the angel snapped, trying once more to herd them to the door.  

“Supersoakers,” Adam announced thoughtfully. Everyone paused, and after some consideration, the rest of the Them began nodding.  

“Super-what now?” Aziraphale asked confusedly.  

“Supersoakers and water balloons,” Adam repeated and added, the idea growing wonderfully in his mind.  

“Brilliant,” breathed Brian.  

“It’ll be just like that grand old fight last summer with Greasy Johnson,” Pepper added delighted.  

Aziraphale passed a confused glance to Crowley.  

“They may be on to something here angel,” the demon admitted, “I’ve seen what they’re talking about in stores. It’s these guns that shoot water, and balloons that are full of it that you throw at people. Wouldn’t be too hard to fill with holy water. Even less difficult to miracle some up. Supersoakers and water guns, that is. You can take care of the holy water?”  

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale agreed. (It must be noted that the angel was still rather fuzzy on this whole ‘supersoakers’ idea, although he had a vague memory of some children in the park throwing water balloons. Crowley was not much better off, supersoakers and water balloons not being much use in mischief that he had had to report to Down Below.)  

“Now can we stay?” asked Brian hopefully.  

The word ‘no’ was on the edge of Aziraphale’s lips when Crowley glanced out the window and reported,  

“It doesn’t look like you have much of a choice.” Aziraphale followed his gaze.  

Heaven had come with quality and cleverness.  

Hell came with quantity and brute force.  

Cars were screeching to a stop outside as a thick ring of demons began to close in on the shop.  

Crowley snapped his fingers hastily and a pile of brightly colored plastic guns and a bucket of empty balloons appeared on the floor of the shop.  

“Fill, please,” Aziraphale murmured and the guns that had already been snatched up by Them were suddenly heavier, and the bucket was heaping with filled balloons.  

Aziraphale sighed or shouted or sang a word in a language that set the world around them vibrating like a plucked string and had Crowley twitching like someone had just dropped an ice cube down his back.  

“Sorry dear,” Aziraphale offered a quick apology but Crowley waved it off.  

“Didn’t even sting,” he responded as he cautiously scooped up one of the remaining supersoakers. There was a crash from outside.  

“That car just ran into a hydrant!” Pepper announced indignantly. Both angel and demon grimaced.  

“I don’t suppose you could freeze time again, keep the humans out of it?” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley let out a low hiss as he thought it over.  

“I could for a little bit, but I’m not sure I could hold it for long.”  

“Could you start it up and then pass it over to me to hold, do you think?” Crowley considered.  

“Maybe. Can’t say anyone’s ever tried it before.”  

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. And I can’t say I’d be much use with those, ah, ‘supersoakers’ of yours.”  

“Crowley!” came a buzzing voice from outside. There was the noise of screeching metal.  

Crowley snapped his fingers.  

The world paused.  

Something you must understand is that angels, and by extension, demons, are primarily noncorporeal beings. They’ve gotten used to being corporeal, of course, (especially in the case of Aziraphale and Crowley) and Heaven and Hell have both patterned themselves after the corporeal world to deal with the influx of human souls.  

But angels and demons still remember before the Beginning. Back when they were nothing but song and thought in the pure void before creation.  

Humans, on the other hand, have never been anything but corporeal.  

This makes it rather difficult to explain the following interaction. You’ll just have to accept what amounts to a copy fuzzed by a bad machine reflected twice by funhouse mirrors.  

Crowley held back the flow time with sheer willpower.  

Now what? He wondered trying to figure out how to hand it to Aziraphale.  

Here, I think, Aziraphale sighed against his soul, whispering down a thick cord that Crowley suddenly saw stretching between them.  

He examined it, fascinated for a moment, an eternity. Time was relative.  

The outermost layer he recognized with a start as their marriage (a small pub, four signatures, rings of wings and snakes, love so pure it took Crowley’s breath away). But beneath that...  

Beneath that the cord (Crowley fancied it looked like ivy, growing more strands and getting thicker every year) was woven of thousands of moments, words, and thoughts. With a start the demon recognized the church where he had saved Aziraphale’s books (names and fire and realizations), the time the angel had ‘tempted’ him into eating oysters (the roles are blurring and conversations are being woven of air and energy), and at the very core, a spidersilk thread that was them standing on the wall discussing Aziraphale’s flaming sword (the taste of apples the sting of the fall the concern of the guardian).  

There was a gentle nudge from Aziraphale, and Crowley carefully handed over his grip on time. Aziraphale seized it, bracing himself to take the load.  

Crowley rocketed back to his corporeal form and hefted the supersoaker.  

“Got it angel?” he asked Aziraphale who was standing there with a look that was an odd cross between deep concentration and absent-mindedness on his face.  

“I won’t be much good for anything else,” Aziraphale spoke slowly, much of his mind obviously elsewhere, “but I can hold it.”  

“Boy, Adam, go take Aziraphale to the back room, shut the door, and come back,” Crowley commanded. Adam, to his credit, saw the frozen people, Aziraphale’s face, put two and two together and (his teachers would say remarkably) came up with four.  

“This way Mr. Fell,” he gently grabbed the angel’s arm and led him to the back room. Crowley watched them go with concern. That was a lot of focus being directed elsewhere, especially for a celestial being.  

Inside Aziraphale’s head, he was getting a crash course on black holes. You see, despite everything and all the millennia in between, Crowley still remembered wistfully the days when he built stars and nebula and the great celestial spheres.  

So when he needed to build something in a hurry, starstuff is what he automatically reverted to, whether he recognized it or not.  

Crowley can affect time because he built the galaxy and so he knows how it works; more to the point, he knows the blueprint for a black hole, a minuscule object with a gravity so great it can slow, slow...stop time.  

That was what Aziraphale was dealing with in his head at the moment, and later he would claim that it was a perfectly reasonable thing to be distracted by.  

“CROOOOWLEY,” Beelzebub snarled again.  

“Stay here,” he muttered to the rest of Them.  

Then he hefted his supersoaker and stepped out the door of the shop, pasting on his most smarmy smile.  

“Hello there Lord Beelzebub! And how are you doing on this fine day?”  

“How’s your boyfriend?” Dagon grinned at him, baring her shark-teeth.  

“My husband’s well, thank you for asking,” Crowley responded waving his left hand airily to display the ring. “Sorry we didn’t invite you to the ceremony, but it was a small affair, not a lot of room...You know what, that was a lie, I’m not sorry at all.”  

The demons all went silent for a minute until Beelzebub spoke up.  

“Get him and bring me the angel!” the Lord of the Flies buzzed in an eerie crescendo that had the whole world shuddering.  

The demons charged.  

Crowley retreated, falling back to the threshold and then spinning in place. He raised the supersoaker and pressed the trigger.  

Out of the windows, Them did the same.  

Crowley and Aziraphale had no idea how supersoakers worked except in the vaguest of terms. So, neither of them saw anything wrong with giving the water coming out of the supersoaker roughly the same velocity as water exiting a firehose.  

“Wicked!” cheered Adam, bracing against a nearby bookshelf as the force of the spray nearly knocked him backward.  

As the water hit the demons they were knocked back and started to dissolve. Their shrieking and silvery light filled the air. Somewhere, Dog was yapping at the oncoming horde.  

Crowley bared his teeth and kept spraying, not noticing as black scales with red tints crept along his arms and face, as his spine seemed to stretch and start flexing in ways that human anatomy did not precisely allow.  

“Get the water balloons!” Pepper called to Brian, who Crowley was vaguely aware of as he darted back into the shop to grab the bucket.  

Mostly though, Crowley was focused on not letting the demons through.  

Not twice, was the desperate mantra running through his mind, not twice would he lose Aziraphale in this bookshop.  

Crowley’s power snaked around the battered store, encasing it securely. The water in the supersoakers never ran out. There always seemed to be another layer of balloons in the bucket when Brain dragged it over.  

The demons came and the demons fell. Crowley’s hands had been splashed with so much holy water that they had gone numb. He couldn’t feel to pull the trigger anymore, but still the water came.  

Then there was a feeling like someone had slugged him in the gut, but a thousand times worse. All the air rushed out of his lungs and Crowley swore that in some distant part of his mind he could hear that breath leave him, a drawn-out wave crashing on a slate-grey shore.  

He collapsed to his knees, supersoaker clattering to the ground.  

“RETREAT,” bellowed Beelzebub and immediately there were cracking noises as all the remaining demons plummeted through the Earth, falling back to the safety of Hell.  

It took a single desperate instant for Crowley to trace the terrible sensation to its source.  

He had wrapped his power around the bookshop, and something had shattered it. Something had shattered it on its way out. Crowley was already spinning, already moving faster than he had ever in his long, immortal life as time restarted behind his back.  

“What--” Adam started to ask as Crowley slammed past him to the back room.  

The door hit the wall with a crack and then fell off its hinges.  

Not that a door off its hinges stood out much in the room.  

There were chairs tipped over and books knocked everywhere in a mess Crowley knew his angel would never allow.  

His angel.

His angel, who looked to have been inconveniently discorporated once again.

His angel, who's body dissolved into white light as he watched and who's soul, when he looked, could be found nowhere on earth.

A piece of paper popped into existence midair. Crowley snatched it up before it could hit the floor.

The angel is ours. I look forward to paying him back for your stunt with the M25. --Hastur

[keanubot]

Catastrophe Reigns (John Wick/Reader) Chapter 14

first of all, you have no idea how thankful i am for all of you and how much i appreciate how patient you’ve all been. these past few months haven’t been great for me and it was difficult to find the time or inspiration to write. but i’m slowly but surely getting my groove back and i finally have a new chapter for you guys. i’m sorry for how long it took, and i’m sorry it’s not the most exciting chapter, but it’s something!

word count: 4.3k

warnings: a teensy bit of smuttiness here and there (the next chapter will be much more smutty, trust me)

You can’t get out of your apartment fast enough, slightly worried that somebody else is going to show up and see John. It’s not that you’re embarrassed of him or anything even close to that; if anything, you’d love to show off that you’ve finally managed to get laid, and with a man this gorgeous. But the fact that you can’t really explain any part of your relationship is just too much of a roadblock at this point. You’re already wondering what the hell you’re going to say to Ruby next time you see her, you don’t need more complications in your life.

John had found the whole thing hilarious, apologizing profusely through laughter as you’d handed him a towel through the bathroom door and given him a disapproving look.

“She could have seen you naked,” you’d groaned, shaking your head, “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he’d said through laughs, patting his chest with the towel, “I don’t know why but this whole situation is just so funny to me, I feel like a teenager.”

You’d smiled at that, biting your lip and eyeing him up and down, “Speaking of which…I saw your drivers license.”

He’d raised an eyebrow, “And?”

You’d smirked, “47, huh?”

After staring at you for a few seconds, drying himself off and looking a bit sheepish, he’d slowed his movements and looked at you a bit worriedly, “Is that okay?”

A wide grin had appeared on your face as you’d nodded, reassuring him immediately, “Age is just a number, John. It doesn’t bother me at all.”

You’d left the bathroom to finish getting ready, then quickly whisked John out of the apartment with Bleu on his leash, excited to get as far away as possible from all the drama your building has become associated with. Now you find yourself walking hand in hand with John down a quiet side street, admiring the autumn leaves that are starting to fall from the trees and begin the transition to winter. His hand is strong and firm in yours, calloused but soft, and you never want to let go.

“So, you’ve told me all about your job,” John says, squeezing your hand gently, “And your friends from work, but what about you?”

You grimace, looking down at Bleu who’s walking a few feet in front of the two of you, tail wagging as he waddles excitedly down the street. You’ve never been the kind of person to enjoy sharing personal details about yourself, always feeling like you’re too boring for anyone to really find you interesting. But John seems interested, which makes your heart flutter.

“There’s not really much to know,” you shrug, avoiding looking at him, “My job takes up most of my time and I just told you all about that, so…there’s not much else to say.”

“Bullshit,” John replies, and you finally look at him, surprised to see him smiling at you, “I’m sure there’s a lot to say. Where did you grow up?”

So you tell him; you end up telling him a lot, actually, which really surprises you. From parts of your childhood and your relationship with your parents to your time at medical school and your awkward introversion, John listens attentively. The words flow out naturally and you never once feel as if he’s getting bored or waiting for you to stop talking. He hangs onto your every word, squeezing your hand every so often and smiling beautifully every time you tell him something he finds cute or funny. When you tell him about rescuing Fitz from a cat fight and nursing him back to health, he stops in his tracks, making you stop as well.

“What?”

He just shakes his head, seemingly in awe, “You’re just…unreal.”

You feel your face turn red and you let go of his hand, continuing to walk and focusing your attention on Bleu, “I’m really not. You’re the one who’s out there kicking ass and taking names.” You’re half-joking, but John speed walks to catch up with you, gently taking your hand again and smiling softly at you.

“There’s more honor in what you do than in what I do, Y/N,” he says quietly, eyes sincere – you can sense a sadness within them that makes your heart hurt, “You save lives every day, even when you’re not at work.”

“I don’t-“

“You saved mine,” he interrupts you, and he brings your hand up to press against his heart through his jacket; you’re both still walking but neither of you are looking where you’re going, “I’m never gonna let you forget that, you know.”

You smile and pull your hand back, shaking your head, “Okay, that’s enough about me. Your turn.”

John exhales deeply, giving you a knowing smile as you continue walking down the street, “Okay, I’ll give you a little break from talking about yourself, but I just want you to know that I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He laughs, “Mind out of the gutter, what do you wanna know?”

You think for a moment, biting your lip and twisting Bleu’s leash a little in your hand, “Why didn’t I get in trouble at the hospital? I mean, that was you, right?” You look over at him and see him slowly nodding, “You did something.”

“I did.”

Your gaze falls to the sidewalk as you wait for John to give his answer, staring at your boots as they crunch along the leaf-covered pavement. Bleu stops suddenly next to a fire hydrant and both you and John slow down to let him do his business, a quiet laugh escaping your lips as you watch him lift his hind leg; you’re so used to seeing Fitz squat above his litter box that Bleu’s actions seem almost cartoonish.

“Dogs are funny.” you say to no one in particular, and John snorts.

“You’re so cute.”

“And you are avoiding the question, mister,” you tease, winking at him before starting to move again as Bleu turns away from the fire hydrant, “Listen, you already told me that you’ve –” you quiet your voice to a whisper, looking back and forth along the street to make sure there’s no one around, “– killed people,” John visibly swallows at the word but you continue, “You can tell me anything, John.”

He nods again, “I know, I’m sorry. I just –”

“Don’t be sorry.” You squeeze his hand and he smiles softly at you before taking a deep breath.

“Well, as you know, I didn’t – uh – do that, thankfully,” his eyes dart around the street as well, double checking for any passersby, “I just…well, I got the Director of Hospital Security to destroy the footage of you stealing the medication.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And he did it? Just like that?”

John grimaces, “Well, no, of course not,” he looks at you a bit sheepishly, “I threatened him.”

“With what?”

“…A gun.”

The image of the empty drawer beside your bed suddenly fills your mind and you nod to yourself, processing what John is saying. Though John needs to get used to telling you these things, in all honesty, you need to get used to hearing them. It doesn’t frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable, but just picturing John pointing a gun at someone and forcing their hand is somehow still slightly difficult to fully grasp. It just seems so strange that the quiet, gentle man walking beside you is capable of those kinds of actions, and there’s an incredibly curious part of you that wants to see him do it – which is probably the weirdest desire you’ve ever had in your life.

“Aren’t you afraid that he’ll tell somebody?”

John shakes his head, “He won’t. I made sure of that.”

“…How?”

John grimaces again, “Listen, Y/N, I know you want to know everything, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but… what I do, it’s not pretty. Even on the easiest of missions, there’s a lot of factors that go into making sure someone won’t…talk. It’s not as simple as just pointing the gun.”

“I understand that,” the three of you turn down another side street, keeping as far away from other pedestrians as possible in order to keep your conversation private, “Just, um… tell me, did you hurt him?”

You look over at John and he’s got one hand in his pocket, eyes glued to Bleu as he formulates an answer to your question. After a few seconds, he looks over at you, “No, but I threatened to.”

“…And would you have? If he didn’t cooperate?”

He sighs, pulling his hand out of his pocket to push his hair back from his face, “Yes. If it meant clearing your name, then yes.”

You come to a stop on the sidewalk, Bleu’s leash loosening in your grip. John stops as well, his expression turning to concern as he peers at you, “Does that scare you?” he reaches over and takes your other hand, squeezing tightly, “I’m sorry.”

The amount of fondness, warmth, and love you feel in the pit of your stomach is indescribable, a deep breath escaping your lips as you close your eyes and allow it to wash over you.

John leans down and presses his forehead to yours, brow furrowed, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, closing his eyes, breathing you in as his nose brushes against yours, “You want me to tell you these things but I know they’re not easy to h–”

“Stop apologizing,” you say back softly, reaching up and taking his face in your hands as Bleu’s leash falls to the ground. He opens his eyes again and you peer into them, trailing your nose back and forth against his, “This is what you do, I know what I’m signing up for, John.”

“Do you, though?” he swallows, “Because I –”

You silence him with a kiss, his lips soft against yours. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close, kissing you back tenderly as his hands trail up and down your spine. Bleu, just as well behaved as John had said, waits patiently at your feet despite his leash laying beside him on the ground. When you pull back from each other, John reaches down and picks it up, his other hand gripping yours as you resume walking once more.

“But you threatening him…” you say with a puzzled expression, the cogs turning in your head, “Wouldn’t that have been caught on camera too?”

“Oh, definitely,” John shrugs, “which is why I had one of my contacts temporarily shut down the security system.”

You suddenly remember the blue computer screen and error message, and you can’t help but feel more than a little impressed with John’s thoroughness, “You really know what you’re doing, huh.”

Chuckling, John swings your hands back and forth between the two of you and grins, “I should hope so.”

-----

You spend the next hour or so walking, John’s hand a permanent fixture in yours as you keep to quiet side streets and discuss your lives. John tells you a little bit about his wife, how she’d passed away a little over a year ago and how she’d insisted he move on as quickly as possible.

“She hated the idea of me being unhappy,” John says to you, soft and quiet, “If she’d had things her way she’d have been happy with me meeting someone at her funeral and getting engaged within the month.” he chuckles to himself and looks at you with those beautiful, kind eyes you’ve grown incredibly fond of, “But that, uh… well that obviously didn’t happen.”

You smile at him, squeezing his hand gently, “She sounds lovely.”

He nods, “She was.”

“You must miss her a lot.”

He takes a few seconds to answer, mulling the words around in his head before saying, “Yes, and no. Once I was able to finally grieve, I found I was able to move on a lot quicker than I thought I would. We’d been preparing for it for a while, so it wasn’t a shock when she passed,” he looks thoughtful, his eyes breaking away from yours to peer down at Bleu, “And he helped a lot.”

“You said finally grieve, like something got in the way. Did I hear that right, or…?”

“Yeah,” he says it quickly, and you feel his hand loosen a little in your grip, “But that’s a story for another day.”

Tightening your grip on his hand, you catch his eyes and hold your gaze, giving him an empathetic smile, “Of course,” you say gently, running your thumb comfortingly along his knuckle, “Whenever you feel comfortable.”

The look John gives you sends tingles up and down your spine, his expression soft and almost awestruck, as he often seems to be whenever he looks at you. You feel yourself blush and to distract yourself you look down at your hands, biting your lip when you see the dark bruise and scabs resting along his knuckles.

“I’m not hurting you am I?”

“Not at all,” he reassures you, “It looks worse than it feels. Everything does, trust me.”

Your eyes look up to meet his again, skin still burning under his gaze, “I trust you.”

-----

“So what am I gonna tell Ruby?” you ask as you head back into your apartment, John following behind you with Bleu and closing the door, “It’s not like we hang out that much outside of work but I have a shift tomorrow night and she’s definitely going to ask about you.”

Fitz meows at you in greeting and rubs his body gently against the both of you, giving Bleu a tentative sniff before heading over to his food bowl and taking a few nibbles.

“Well…” John hooks Bleu’s leash on the coat rack – a simple domestic gesture that makes you smile – and walks over to put his arms around you, “You just tell her that I’m your boyfriend.”

Your skin warms at the word and you lean in to brush your nose against his, “Yeah, but what else? How did we meet?”

“Hmm…” he kisses you softly and pulls back with a smile, “The gym?” You snort and John laughs, his hands firm on your hips as he pulls you in closer, “I’ll take that as a no.”

“She knows more than anyone that the only working out I do is running through hospital hallways.”

You feel John’s hand move to your ass, squeezing firmly, “It’s done wonders.”

Laughing, you slap his hand away and pull back from him, walking over to the sink to pour some water in a bowl for Bleu, “I’m serious, John, what do I tell her? It has to be convincing, we’ve already established that I’m a terrible liar.”

John comes up behind you and puts his arms around you again, wrapping them around your stomach and pulling you into him, “We’ll come up with something, we have lots of time between now and tomorrow night.”

You go to put the bowl on the floor but John’s grip around you makes it difficult to move. You wriggle in his arms, laughing breathlessly, “What’s gotten into you? What happened to Mister ‘I just want to talk to each other today’?”

John kisses your neck and chuckles against your skin, “Oh, he’s gone.”

He loosens his grip so you can bend over and put the bowl on the floor, which suddenly leaves you both in quite a compromising position. You can feel the shape of John’s dick pressed against your ass, and his hands slowly go to your hips, his fingers pressing lightly into the bare sliver of exposed skin between your shirt and pants. You find yourself holding still for a moment, letting him slowly grind into you for a few seconds without even noticing Bleu running over and starting to drink the water.

“You’re getting hard.” you say matter-of-factly, trying not to show how turned on you suddenly are.

You feel one of John’s hands travel from your hip to your back, smoothing it across and pushing your shirt up in the process to expose your skin to him, “Can’t really help it.” he replies quietly, his hand running back and forth along your spine.

You slowly stand up and lean back into his touch, your head lolling against his shoulder as he presses kisses along the length of your neck, “What changed your mind?” you ask through a quiet moan, “Thought you wanted to keep sex on the backburner today.”

One of John’s hands is suddenly inside your shirt, traveling up to take one of your breasts in his palm. Your eyes roll back and you surrender to his touch, letting out another moan as he grinds himself into you.

“I feel so close to you,” he whispers, holding you to his chest, “I mean, I’ve felt close to you since the first night. But now…with you knowing everything…” he rubs himself against you, kisses the skin behind your ear and licks a gentle stripe along the edge of it, “I feel like I can be myself.”

You want more than anything to continue what he’s starting, but there’s a part of your brain telling you that John’s earlier idea had been a good one; you don’t want this relationship to purely be about sex. You want the connection to go deeper than that, you want to keep talking to him and opening up to each other and finding out everything you can about him. He’s not just some random guy you fixed up anymore, although he never really was that guy to begin with. He’s John, your boyfriend. Even just thinking the word gives you butterflies.

He’s here to stay, you have plenty of time to let him fuck your brains out.

Reluctantly, you step forward, pulling yourself away from him and turning in his arms. He looks at you with a puzzled expression, raising an eyebrow.

“Listen, you said no sex so let’s keep it that way,” John opens his mouth to protest but you silence him with a finger to his lips, shaking your head with a smile, “It’s a good idea, John. Spending a day learning about each other and catching up on things any normal relationship would have established ages ago.”

John’s mouth pops open in faux shock, “Are you saying this isn’t a normal relationship?!”

You laugh, pulling your hand away and wrapping your arms around his neck, “Hate to break it to you, but I think this may be one of the most unconventional relationships I’ve ever been in.”

John raises an eyebrow, “So…you’ve been in other unconventional relationships?”

You snort, “Oh, are we having that conversation now?”

“What conversation?”

You pull away from him and walk to the living room, John and Fitz following closely behind you while Bleu continues lapping at his water, “The past relationships conversation.”

“Well…” John shrugs, “I did tell you about Helen.”

You grimace, knowing he’s right, “True, but you didn’t tell me about your old flames like you’re trying to get me to do.” You sit down on the couch and John settles in beside you, picking your legs up as if on instinct and placing them in his lap.

“I’d tell you about mine if I actually had any,” he says, laughing when you make a disbelieving sound, “No, seriously, it’s true. I never had any sort of real relationship before Helen. To be quite frank, I didn’t think I deserved it.”

You frown, “That makes me sad.”

He massages your ankles in his hands, giving you a genuine smile, “Don’t be. I don’t feel that way anymore, I promise.”

You nod, looking down at your legs and loving the feeling of his calloused hands trailing up and down your bare skin. You think about what John has just said and suddenly come to a startling realization.

“Wait…so, does that mean…” you trail off, looking at him with a curious expression.

“What?”

“Were you a…” you bite your lip, trying not to smile at the thought of what you’re about to say, “Were you a virgin, before Helen?”

The look on John’s face answers your question, and you immediately wave your hands in front of yourself and try to salvage the conversation, “Oh my God, I’m sorry, that was such a stupid question. I mean look at you, Jesus Christ, of course you weren’t a virgin.”

John just laughs at your spluttering, reaching a hand up to push his hair back in disbelief, “You really thought that I was a virgin until I was 40.”

“Only for a second!!” you try to defend yourself, laughing along with him, “Listen, I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 21.”

John looks over at you in surprise, “Really? 21?”

You nod, cheeks turning a bit pink, “I, uh…I was kind of a loser in high school,” you cringe at the words, your mind suddenly playing brief memories of that time in your head, “Didn’t really get out much. Still don’t.”

John smiles softly at you, “Me neither.”

You smile back, “I’m glad I waited though, the first time is actually enjoyable if you wait until you’re an adult.”

He chuckles, “My fifteen year old self should have taken your advice.”

“Bad?”

“Terrible. I came in about twenty seconds,” he shakes his head at the memory, “Although I definitely recall thinking it was amazing at the time. Then I started having good sex and I realized my mistake.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And who was this good sex with?”

He laughs, “Not so fast, Y/N. Tell me about your first time.”

Sighing, you give in, “Um…his name was Ian. It was very romantic, he put rose petals on the bed and stuff.”

“Rose petals? I need to up my game.”

You laugh, giving John a playful swat on the arm, “Shut up, it was sweet,” you bite your lip, secretly hoping that giving details might make John a little jealous, “He was very gentle, he told me he loved me afterwards.”

“And did you say it back?”

You snort, “Yeah, but it didn’t stop him from falling out of love with me about a month later.”

John’s brow furrows, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t be. We really weren’t a match,” you shrug, “He was in plastic surgery, it never would have worked.”

John laughs and watches as Fitz pounces up onto the couch, walking along your legs and settling in John’s lap. You pull your feet back to give him room, smiling wide when he curls up atop John’s thighs. John reaches down and gently pets him, scratching behind his ears and letting out a breathy laugh when Fitz begins to purr.

“He’s vibrating,” John says, and you giggle.

“Yeah, that means he likes you.”

John looks up at you, smiling tenderly and bringing his other hand up to gesture you toward him. You crawl along the couch and settle beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes when he kisses your hair.

“I like you,” he murmurs against your scalp, kissing you again and again until your head feels warm and tingly, “So much.”

“I like you too,” you breathe, opening your eyes and watching John’s beat up hand gently caress Fitz’s grey fur. “I think I like you more than anyone else on this Earth.”

John touches your chin with his fingers and angles your face up to meet his, lips parting. You close your eyes again and feel his lips touch yours, soft and slow. Kissing him is the greatest feeling in the world – somehow greater than saving lives – and you feel like putty in his hands as he continues to hold your chin and kiss you deeper and deeper. The ache between your legs is back, and before you can even really register it, he’s pulling away from you with a string of saliva connecting your lips for a few seconds before breaking.

“Fuck.” you whisper, lids heavy.

“What?”

“You’re unreal,” you breathe, repeating back what he’d said to you on the walk, and he just smiles at you and starts to shake his head. Before he can say anything else, you lean back up to capture his lips again, this time cupping his face in your hand and reveling at the way his scruff feels against your skin. You feel John hum against your lips, and poor Fitz is suddenly jumping off of him with an annoyed meow as you feel yourself being lifted and placed onto John’s lap.

“No sex,” you murmur against his lips, your hands moving from his face to his hair, “We agreed.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you,” he breathes, darting his tongue out to taste you, “Kissing isn’t sex.”

“That’s true.”

You keep kissing for a few moments, John’s hands cupping your ass through your leggings. You can feel his cock pressed against your heat, long and firm, and the temptation to pull it out of the confines of his jeans is suddenly very strong. You pull away from him slightly to peer into his eyes, biting down on your lip.

“I think we did pretty good for today,” you say softly, voice slurred slightly from your arousal, “What do you think? We talked enough right?”

John nods immediately, his thumbs slipping inside the edges of your leggings, “We did, definitely.”

“We’ve both been through a lot, there’s nothing wrong with having more sex.”

“Right.”

“I mean, you’ve shared so much, so have I, it makes sense for us to want to-“

John places his finger on your lips, smirking, “Do you want me to fuck you again, Y/N?”

The words give you not only a physical reaction, but an audible one too. You shiver in his lap and hear a low moan escape your lips, eyebrows furrowing as you look into his eyes and shift your position.

“Yes, please.”

[ellistheauthor-blog]

Transformation Of A Soul

    This recollection of events leading up to my changing you are about to read may frighten you, but believe me when I say that is not my intent. In the aftermath of what I will soon do, as morbid as it seems, please don’t be distraught. I beg you to be at peace as I finally am. What I am about to inscribe within the pages of this journal is not about death as humankind knows it, but of transformation. 

    My given name was Matthew. I was the third to hold that title in my family, sharing the name with both my father and grandfather. I grew up with a desire to serve my community and fulfilled this calling by becoming a firefighter. A job I held until just recently when my mind’s eye opened, planting the seeds to what would ultimately become my evolution. The reconciling of the physical and spectral realms. I’m sorry if I’m confusing you, whoever you are. I have gotten ahead of myself. Let me bring you back to where this beautiful transformation began. Please keep an open mind. 

    Early in the morning four months ago, I was in bed at work when my crew was awoken by the tones, followed by the disembodied voice of dispatch assigning us, as well as the next four closest units, to a structure fire. I was tailboard for the shift, meaning I rode in the back of the engine and was responsible for establishing water supply to the truck and fighting fires from inside structures, if conditions warranted it, with my Lieutenant, Manny Gamallo. 

    The building was a moderate size, similar in stature to a three-story home. When we pulled up, we noticed the structure was a temple with architecture reminiscent of the buildings you’d see in Japan. We were the first unit in. I dropped lines, caught the nearest hydrant, and dragged the charged hose through the front door, Gamallo pulling the excess behind me. 

    Beyond the door, the interior of the temple was pitch black. Its contents were hidden within a curtain of smoke, and silent apart from the hiss of our regulators with every inhale. Following the growing heat of the inferno, we made our way blindly through the maze until we found the stairs. An amber glow dawned over the top, illuminating the wispy tendrils of smoke in the doorway. Gamallo swore as we rushed up the stairs. Fighting fire was a race to the attic. Attics are giant voids of space, providing a fire with a buffet of oxygen and fuel. When a fire made it to an attic, it could spread anywhere. 

    We emerged over the top of the stairs to what seemed to be a worship room. The wood had been burned black and was littered with the charred remnants of several prayer rugs. My eyes were drawn to the pixelated orange and yellow blur of flames obscured within the smoke. My hand tightened on the nozzle as I stepped forward and aimed the hose towards the seat of the fire. But I didn’t open it. I tried with every ounce of energy within me to unleash the barrage of water, but I couldn’t. My arms were locked in place—paralyzed—my mind perplexed by the sight before me. 

    Emerging from the parting haze like a lighthouse cutting through the morning fog was a metal shrine. It resembled a capital H with a roof on top and fences along the sides. Sitting Indian Style in the center with hands tucked neatly in its lap was a life-sized wooden carving of a man. We had found the fire; it surrounded the shrine after making quick work of the rest of the destroyed contents within the room. However, what stopped Gamallo and I in our tracks was the realization that the shrine and statue within were utterly untouched. The flames rolled along the perimeter of the shrine, but it never reached in to seize the wooden man. 

    The expression carved on the idol’s face was a look of pure bliss; an expression that seemed to say I am surrounded by danger, yet I am safe within myself. I’m not sure exactly how much time elapsed since being confronted by the fire around the shrine, but it must have been too long for my Lieutenant’s liking. Manny swore behind me, telling me in his words, to stop fucking around. 

    I regained use of my arms. As my gloved hand tightened around the nozzle, my attention fell once more to the wooden man, causing a gasp to escape me. It seemed, for just a passing moment, that the wooden man was alive. For, I could have sworn his eyes, which were turned away just a moment earlier, were now focused upon me. The fire lashed forward, taking advantage of the gaps in the metal gate. The wooden man was seized by the flames. I took a step back and opened the nozzle. 

    The fire hissed as it met the water, falling back like a cowering dog before transforming into a black cloud. Naturally, once being extinguished, the smoke would rise to the ceiling and dissipate. However, for a lingering moment, the black wisps hung elegantly in the air—seemingly watching me—before fading. 

                                                                —

It wasn’t until a week had passed that I truly began to feel the weight of what I had witnessed within that old temple. In my nine years with the department, I had fought dozens of fires, and not once did a fire behave in that way—defying all laws of physics. The shrine had several openings along each side, yet the flames shuffled along the edges as if repelled by something within. 

The wooden man. My mind was brought back to the idol. How it gazed straight ahead one moment, then looked towards me the next. Except it wasn’t just that. There was something else; the carving’s expression had changed. When he looked at me, there was something in those mahogany eyes of his that told me there was a force far beyond my comprehension at play in the temple. Looking back, I know that to be true; the room was alive with a palpable energy unlike any I’d ever felt. It hadn’t unsettled me, but it also hadn’t given me a good feeling. The sensation had been a strong, pulling force, devoid of any emotion attached to it. Truly neutral. 

I tried to recreate the path of the smoke when the fire was extinguished in my mind. Instead of dispersing, it had curled in on itself as if it were caught in a vacuum. It pulled together, becoming almost solid, then it grew weak, widened, and dispersed. All of those things couldn’t have been coincidences, I told myself. It was impossible. Though I had always been a skeptic, I couldn’t help but entertain the thought that there may have been something supernatural at play in the temple. I decided to at least keep an open mind. That is when my journey truly began.

                                                            —

Visions I had once perceived as nightmares started coming to me nightly a few weeks later. I had grown to believe I would never receive the answers I hoped for, and then, as if by some divine intervention, I was shown spectacular dreams in my sleep. The dreams would begin the same way; it would be completely black—a darkness of unfathomable depth. I would suddenly become aware of my surroundings, but I wouldn’t be in control of my body because there was no body to inhabit. I was simply a collective form of energy and consciousness floating in the void. 

Just ahead in the center of my view, two amber orbs would ignite. The orbs always hovered parallel to each other as they came towards me. They tracked me—studied me. I came to recognize these as eyes made of fire. When it was just a mere foot or two from me, the orbs would flare, briefly illuminating the outline of a solid black, featureless face behind those beautiful eyes. The first time I witnessed this, I was quickly overcome by a sense of deja vu. Whatever this being was, it became apparent that it was the same force I felt in the temple. It was an entity of immense power.

The first night I dreamt of this unnamed deity I had woken up before I could learn more of its origins. Every night for the month following, the dreams became more vivid, going from being mere dreams to epiphanies. Every night I encountered it, I was able to stay in that realm of consciousness a little longer; I could feel my spirit growing stronger with each passing night. 

It wasn’t until I could witness the coming of this fire-eyed deity without even the faintest trace of fear that it began to speak to me. I was impatient at first, seeing something of such an infinite magnitude but being given no answers. But, looking back, I am thankful it waited to speak, for if it had spoken to me the first night I saw it, I am sure my mind wouldn’t have been able to handle it. The deity spoke to me through the void in a voice I noticed as my own. As it spoke, I felt a sensation rising within me. I could feel the deity speaking through me, except it said things unknown to myself. 

You are becoming something greater than yourself. It would say, before following it with what sounded like a warning. Others will either avoid you or grow cold. Man will mistreat you. Take this as inspiration: man fears what man is incapable of understanding. Man shuns the unknown; opting to remain ignorant of the true world beyond their bubble of reality. 

The vision would end here each night the first week I had it, allowing me to process what it was telling me fully. As much as I tried to ignore that sense within myself that I hadn’t experienced a simple recurring dream of great vividness, I couldn’t help but know deep down that it was right. I was changing—for better or for worse, I did not know at the time, yet I always felt its lingering presence within the depths of my mind.

I worked three times following my first encounter with the deity. We work twenty-four hours on, followed by forty-eight hours off. Life at the station seemed different when I returned. My coworkers behaved strangely. They spoke in whispers in the dayroom while I was out in the bay or the bunkroom, only to go silent mid-sentence when I would enter. I could feel their eyes burning into my skin when I was turned away, yet when I’d look back, their eyes would wander. Whenever I walked past, they’d shift in their seats to avoid accidentally touching me. When I left the room, the whispers resumed. I could have stayed by the door and eavesdropped if I so desired, but that wouldn’t be what my new companion would want. 

The next month I grew closer to my nightly visitor; a special bond bound us together with an energy more powerful than the pull of two magnets. I had found a sense of comfort when in the presence of the deity I hadn’t known before. In that dark realm, I felt at home. I could tell this being shared a similar sentiment. 

The deity revealed itself to me in a show of trust gained between us. Its eyes burned brighter, revealing its pure form. The outline of a man’s body floated before me. An athletic build, the body was made three-dimensional by a shade of black darker than the night around it. The shadow moved in the pattern of rolling waves—the smoke from the temple fire. For the first time, I found my voice. 

I looked into the fire of its eyes and asked the deity who it was and where it came from. It reached out one of its melting, solidifying, and melting again hands and extended it towards where my body would be if I were physically in this realm. Ice ran through the veins in my sleeping body as I felt its arm cross between dimensions into this world. It was trying to show me something, perhaps another vision, but the force of its touch caused me to awaken with a jolt. 

I had returned to my bedroom. The sheets were moistened with sweat, and goosebumps rose along my shirtless body from the chilling breeze of the fan overhead. For a brief moment, I believed I would find my companion standing beside the bed, but he wasn’t. It seemed he had tried to cross over but couldn’t quite manage it. A profound sense of sadness filled me at this thought. I was alone again. 

My head was clouded as I drove to work two hours later. I had trouble thinking about anything other than my latest encounter with the deity, and my muscles occasionally twitched as surges of ice sludged through my veins. I wasn’t sick. I had checked my temperature: the thermometer reading a perfect 98.6 degrees. I didn’t have a headache, either. My mind felt fuzzy as if my soul had become trapped between realms. I barely felt like how I did just six months ago, but it was for the better. An overwhelming sense of change now filled me. I could feel myself becoming something greater. 

I got into work half an hour later. I began my morning duties of checking off the engine, but my mind was still caught in the space of limbo between realms. The rest of the crew avoided me more than ever now. Whenever I would glance over my shoulder at one of the doors leading into the dayroom, I’d see one of them standing behind the glass, peering curiously out at me like I was an animal in the zoo. I guess that isn’t so far off; I did feel trapped. My mind was moving a million miles a minute; my soul yearning to escape, but I was stuck inside my own head.

                                                               —  

A call for a house fire came out later that same day. It was evening, and we had just placed dinner on the table. We pulled in, once more being the first unit on scene. I was going to head in with Gamallo, following the two-in-two-out rule, but when I advanced into the home, Gamallo must have gone to grab something from the engine, because he wasn’t behind me when I entered. I could feel the presence of the deity radiating from the house as I crossed the threshold. 

My lungs pulled in oxygen through the airtight seal in my mask as I winded through the corners of the home following the distant orange glare. Pulling a fully charged hose isn’t so hard when you have someone assisting you, but by yourself, it feels like an anchor strapped to your back. After an exhausting few minutes, I emerged into the kitchen of the home. 

It was a standard kitchen fire. The family had neglected to clean oil and grime from the top of the stove. The build-up had ignited, causing a fire to roll over the top and sides like a mushroom cloud. When I came into range of the oven, the fire changed trajectory. It seemed to almost stand up as it grew wider, now engulfing the entire counter on each side. The hose tucked under my arm and nozzle in hand, I could feel the hum of water ready to be released. However, I paused. I hadn’t lost use of my arms like I had in the temple; I had been stopped by a new case of inner turmoil. 

Sweat dribbled down my forehead and dripped into my eyes, causing them to sting. The fire burned brighter and reached closer. The entire stove, pantry, and counters were now fuel within the fire’s belly. The nozzle was fixed on the center of the flames, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it. Staring into the blinding light rising from the depths of the flames, I could see my deity reaching out for me as he did in my last vision. To extinguish his physical self would be to reject him. 

Sudden bliss overcame me, causing my head to grow light with euphoria. The nozzle slipped from my grasp as my legs went numb with the ecstasy one can only know when overcome by the presence of their God in the flesh. I collapsed, landing on top of the hose behind me. In the background, the sound of Gamallo and a few others called out to me, but I could barely hear them. My restless mind had finally stopped stirring; I was at peace in the presence of my deity. My companion reached one flaming tendril of an arm out to me. Fire kissed the outer layer of my turnout pants and began spreading up my legs. If it hurt, I did not know, for I felt nothing. A smile grew over my lips. I closed my eyes; welcoming my deity with open arms. 

                                                            —

I came to an undisclosed time later. I was being buckled to the stretcher. All of my turnout gear apart from the pants had been removed. Sweat drenched my navy undershirt, turning it almost black. Without saying a word, I sat up straight. The EMT and Medic currently buckling the seatbelts flinched. They looked at me, bewilderment lost within their eyes. My head spinning, I struggled to remove the buckles from myself. I insisted I was okay. I told them my name, where I was, and what day of the week it was to prove that I was alert and oriented to my surroundings. They shrugged and assisted me off the stretcher after lowering it halfway. 

I passed my crew on the way back to the engine. Gamallo approached me and said something, but my mind didn’t process what. I was angry at him and the rest of the rescue crew with him. They may think they saved me, but they didn’t. They damned me—cursed me to live another day trapped in this prison of flesh. I just prayed my deity wouldn’t be disappointed with me. When we returned to the station, I informed my Lieutenant that, concluding the shift, I would not be returning to work.

The following night I had another rendezvous with my deity. Whenever I would ask it questions, it would usually not respond. I see now that it wasn’t dodging what I asked; I had simply not been asking the right questions. I had been thinking a lot about my own changing identity, especially in the twenty-four hours leading up to this crucial meeting. As the collected energy of my soul floated amongst my deity, the right question came to me. 

“Who am I?” I asked. 

My deity watched me through his burning eyes in silence, processing my question. 

“Or... what am I?” 

Finally, it spoke. You are Kami. 

“What does that mean?”

 Here you are Kami. In your realm you are Kami trapped in the flesh. Bound by the chains of humanity. 

 Although I didn’t know what it meant by Kami, I could feel my true identity burning inside me like a fire starved of oxygen. I had grown tremendously since meeting my deity, but now I felt that I had hit a wall. 

  “What are you?” I had asked this once before when first meeting the deity, but it had ignored me. Now, it knew I was ready for the truth. 

  I am Kami. 

 “You are me?”

  That is partially true. Are you familiar with the Christian belief in the Trinity

  “It’s grown fuzzy.” 

  We are both Kami, yet we are each individual. We haven’t reached our full potential. We are the final two pieces in an intricate and fantastic cosmic puzzle lying separated on a tabletop. I have searched for you for a thousand years and just now found you. 

 At this moment, I realized there was something crucial that had to be done. “What do I do?”

The reunification. 

 With that, Kami’s eyes grew dim and went out. As I drifted into consciousness, I heard it speak one last time. Cleanse the spirit. 

 I woke up this morning knowing what must be done to complete this ritual of reunification of man and the Gods. Cleanse the spirit. Echoed in my mind as a confirmation of what I had realized to be true. 

                                                          —

    I sit on the floor in the center of my living room. All of the furniture has been relocated to the basement. I have removed the television, all lamps and clocks, and tables. The room is empty apart from myself and the candles in the corners. I sit as I was born into this world; untainted by the humanity of clothes. I am pure. I will free myself. The reunification will be completed; I am Kami. 

My skin stings and has grown red from the gasoline, but I don’t mind. The smell of gas emanates from the floor, causing me to become slightly dizzy. The moonlight shines in through a window, radiating the lines starting at the base of each candle and running to me. Wax soaks into the corners as the candles continue to melt. The fire has reached the halfway mark. The final, and most important, step in my transformation will soon begin. 

I will place these letters in the metal box sitting on my lap. Though I’ve become detached from this world and the humans sinning within it, I still believe those who were my friends and family deserve an explanation to what has occurred. I am sure it will be hard for you reading this to process what has happened. Just be reminded that it isn’t grotesque; it is beautiful. 

                                                     — 

 The fire was put out at three-thirty in the morning. It had burned for six hours, only growing stronger the more water the responding crews placed on it. The firefighters were baffled by the difficulty in putting out the blaze. Many of them joked that the fire was fighting them back. 

When the fire was finally extinguished, the small home lay in ruins. The crews shuffled through the charred remnants of the house doing overhaul. It looked like the occupant had been in the process of moving. All the furniture had been piled neatly in the basement. The living room, where the fire had started, was stripped bare. 

The cause of the fire was quickly deemed an arson. Four distinct burn patterns in the shape of a V were tucked in each corner of the empty living room. All pointed towards the center of the room which, oddly enough, was the only unburned portion of the entire home. A neat white circle sat in the center of the room amongst the ash like a spotlight. In the center of the unburned circle was a metal box. 

                                                       END.

[themurphyzone]

Lucky Thirteen Ch 2

Cavendish has to tell Dakota something important. Too bad his nerves and the world are complicating matters.

Ch 2: Second Thoughts

Dakota yawned and hugged his pillow. He hated waking up early on the weekend and would be in bed for at least.another two hours. However, Cavendish was an early riser and was already dressed for the day (like Poor Richard, he believed it would make him healthy, wealthy, and wise). The ring box was tucked in Cavendish’s lapel, safe and secure from prying eyes. 

He hopped out of bed and made his choice. 

Cavendish tucked the receipt into his pocket and walked out the door. 

He couldn’t do it. 

Dakota could charm everyone with a sandwich in one hand and a cola in the other. 

Cavendish was just the guy who died. 

Like, a lot. 

His stomach grumbled, but Cavendish hushed it. “Jeweler’s first, then we’ll see about breakfast. Honestly, you’re as bad as Dakota.” 

If he’d come along, Dakota would have dragged him into the nearest Paul Bunyan’s for a breakfast burrito and coffee. 

Breakfast burrito. That’s breakfast inside of a burrito. 

Pigs in a blanket. That’s hot dogs sleeping inside a bread blanket. Hey, a brenket! Yeah, that’s a thing now. Cause I said it. 

“Get out of my head, Dakota,” Cavendish muttered. “You’re messing with a highly efficient and organized mind.”

Once the voice bearing an uncanny resemblance to the real-life Dakota was driven out, Cavendish opened the ring box. The rings were on the cheap end of the scale, but they still ate up a good portion of the month’s budget. 

Luckily for Cavendish, Dakota never paid attention to the budget chart. He was usually more interested in the area Cavendish had deemed ‘Money for the Snackhound’s Appetite’. 

He hadn’t initially planned on using actual rings either. 

It was a run-in with Milo and Sara at the grocery store that convinced him otherwise. Sara was extra-vehement at his decision to use edible fruit-flavored candy rings instead, and she was not taking the ‘it’s way cheaper’ excuse. 

You can’t substitute mass-produced neutron bracelets for the one-of-a-kind Lazuli Kingdom bracelets, Sara had protested indignantly. 

According to Milo, she was just quoting Dr. Zone Episode 22: Jewel of the Earth, so her perception of romance probably wasn’t realistic. 

Still, they hadn’t left him alone until they were absolutely positively certain that he wasn’t going to propose to Dakota with a generously sized hunk of sugar. 

The jeweler wasn’t far now. He just had to cross the street to get there.

Are you sure you want to do this? a voice asked. You spent the past few months gathering your nerves, and now you’re just tossing it out on a whim? And what exactly are you going to tell Milo and Sara? They sacrificed their time to help with the ring selection, the least you could do is follow through. 

“I’ll tell them Dakota said no,” Cavendish retorted, drawing attention from passersby. He ignored them, slipping the ring box into his pocket to avoid the curious stares. “You’re making it harder than it actually is.” 

Pot calling the kettle black.

“Oh, be quiet. I know what I’m doing, thank you,” Cavendish muttered. He thumped his forehead in an effort to get the nagging voice out of his mind, and the receipt dropped from his hand. The paper fluttered down to the crosswalk. 

“I’m having a crisis here. The least you could do is cooperate,” Cavendish told the paper. 

As he bent down to pick it up, a cacophony down the street drew his attention. People screamed and ran for their lives, a car crashed into a fire hydrant, and a motorbike with two people swerved to avoid traffic, dragging a colossal dinosaur made of ham behind them with a bungee cord. 

Cavendish scrambled out of their way, avoiding the wheels of the motorbike, but a sharp hit to the gut cut off his air supply and left him wheezing. Something knocked him off his feet and he tripped into a squishy and meaty wall. 

Dakota didn’t know Cavendish’s whereabouts. He would still be asleep, lost in some faraway dreamland where bars of chocolate served as transportation and rivers were made of chunky salsa. 

Cavendish would die in this hammy tomb, and they had no method to travel back a few minutes to prevent it. 

Wait, ham?

His vision returned, and Cavendish realized he wasn’t dead. 

Well, duh. No civilization in history claimed heaven smells like ham. Well, maybe the Island Dakotas would say otherwise, but they’ve never been a conventional sort. 

On the bright side, his internal organs hadn’t been displaced.

Cavendish crawled out from the wreckage of the ham dinosaur, wrinkling his nose at the ham-scented fluid that clung to his suit. The smell reminded him of Lard World, and not in a good way.

“Can’t you wait until I’ve had breakfast before you try to kill me?” Cavendish griped as he rushed back to the crosswalk, desperate to find the receipt he’d dropped.

He only found three measly scraps, and the other pieces had long scattered to the wind. 

He could still salvage the situation. Run into a store, request receipt paper, make a forgery. As long as he got the price right, there shouldn’t be an issue. 

Yeah, it was totally a foolproof plan. 

“You’re Cavendish, right? One of Milo’s friends?” a voice behind him asked.

Cavendish yelped, jumping away from the man and clutching his chest in shock. His back hit the curb of the sidewalk, making him groan in pain. 

“Great Scott, are you trying to kill me?” Cavendish spat once his brain worked again. The man before him looked vaguely familiar, though it didn’t click until he saw the brown cowlick. Right, they played that hodgepodge board game together on the day he and Dakota were trying to close the deadly vortex above Milo Murphy’s home. He racked his brain, trying to recall a conversation where Milo had mentioned his parents. “You’re...Marlin?”

A nearby manhole opened, revealing Danville’s resident underground lunatic. “I, Scott, the master of Subterranous in all her garbagey glory, answer to your summons, Overlander! Who would you like me to trap in the sewers for the next 48 hours?” 

“Not every ‘Great Scott’ is an incantation to summon you,” a woman sighed, pushing the manhole on Scott’s head until he disappeared beneath the surface. 

“Okay, I get the message! Mildred and I have important stuff to do anyway!” Scott called. 

“Anyway, it’s Martin. And that’s Brigitte for future reference,” the man corrected as he helped Cavendish up. “You got clotheslined by that bungee cord pretty good. Are you okay?” 

Cavendish brushed the gravel off his suit, though he knew it would take a trip to the laundromat to get the fabric back into pristine condition. “I’ve had worse. Don’t worry.”

Then he noticed the helmets Martin and Brigitte carried. “Were you the drivers of that motorbike?” he asked, gesturing to the upturned vehicle. A bungee cord was caught in its back tires, leading to the fallen ham dinosaur a few feet away. 

Brigitte laughed nervously. “That was me. I found my old motorbike from an extreme motocross race I did back when I was a college student and fixed it up. The gas pedal was touchier than I thought and Martin’s sleeve got caught in the second seat while he was getting breakfast.” 

“I picked the right day to wear a motorcycle helmet in the kitchen,” Martin added. “Sorry about that.” 

“It’s fine,” Cavendish said as he brushed past them. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to forge a receipt so I can return a pair of rings to the jeweler’s.” 

“I’m going to ignore the bit about forging a receipt,” Brigitte said slowly. “But did you mean these rings by any chance?”

She fished out a familiar ring box from her pocket. 

Cavendish took the box gratefully, annoyed at himself for having missed such a crucial object. His plan would’ve fallen apart at the seams if he’d lost the rings. 

“How come you’re going back on your engagement?” Martin asked. 

“I-we...Dakota and I aren’t engaged!” Cavendish stammered. Were Milo’s parents always this nosy? “Where did you even find these rings?” 

Brigitte shrugged. “Found ‘em after the bike overturned. They fell out of your pocket.” She returned the box, and Cavendish secured it inside a pocket that had a button flap. 

The most logical reason of course. 

“Milo and Sara mentioned that they went to the jeweler’s with you a few weeks ago,” Martin remarked. “They were really excited for you. Especially Milo. He called you his weird but cool uncles that one only meets in family reunions.” 

It was awfully hard not to preen at Milo’s good words. The boy didn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

While Cavendish was fully capable of finding flaws with everything that existed in their universe, he still couldn’t air a single grievance against Milo Murphy.  

“Anyhoo,” Cavendish coughed before the conversation entered further awkward territory. “I should really be going. Besides, Dakota could be waking up any minute now.” 

“Does Dakota know?” Brigitte asked. 

“I think-um, no. No, he doesn’t know I have these. Unless he went snooping, and I wouldn’t put it past him,” Cavendish admitted. 

Brigitte raised an eyebrow. “I meant, have you told him how you feel yet? 

Prying woman! 

Before Cavendish could snap, deny, refute, or utter a curt goodbye, Martin’s phone emitted the chorus of Chop Away at My Heart. 

“Ah, could we put this conversation on hold?” Martin asked sheepishly. 

How about indefinitely? Cavendish bit back.

Martin tapped a green circle and held the phone to his ear. “Hello? Oh, it’s you,” he sighed. He looked completely and utterly done with life. 

At Cavendish’s questioning glance, Brigitte mouthed Doofenshmirtz, her fists clenching in irritation. 

Cavendish found himself oddly grateful for the man’s interference though. Spared him from arguing his rationale for returning the rings. 

Martin’s eyebrows flew up in shock. “No, I didn’t give you permission to turn the oven into an Escape Pod-inator!” 

Doofenshmirtz said something that Cavendish couldn’t make out. 

“For the last time, vending machines aren’t plotting to take over Kansas! What would they even rule there-ugh, forget it. Just forget it. I’m not dealing with this. No, I’ll handle the cleanup. You find something else to do that doesn’t involve exploding appliances.” 

Martin hung up, muttering something very unkind about couch-crashing pharmacists. 

Doofenshmirtz is Professor Time. Professor Time’s rumored to have dated the strangest things. If we can’t return the rings, we get his help for your proposal. 

“I didn’t say I was proposing!” Cavendish protested, much to Brigitte and Martin’s surprise. He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Er...sorry. I just had the most peculiar idea where Professor Time-that is to say, the guy crashing in your home...helped me with-ah, my dilemma.” 

Martin’s face broke into a wide grin. “You’ll really do that? Doof will be tagging along with you for a while?” 

Brigitte elbowed him sharply. 

“Ow, your joints hurt,” Martin said, rubbing his side gingerly. “What I meant to say is that it’s great you’re reconsidering and asking someone you think can help you out.” 

Well, it can’t hurt to try one more terrible idea that’s sure to backfire with all the force of a nuclear explosion. 

Cavendish logic is way too much fun I swear. 

[jphgphoto]

Project managers, ducks, and dogs marking territory

https://rachelbythebay.com/w/2013/06/05/duck/

By Rachel by the bay

“There's a story I read on one of the Stack Overflow type sites a couple of years ago about a "duck". It was an answer about terms people have invented in the world of programming, and it went like this.

A company was working on a game called Battle Chess. It looks like an ordinary chess game at first, but there are some extras which become apparent as you make moves. When you select a piece and tell it to move, it morphs from a statue into more of an animated figure, and walks to the next spot. Then it goes back to being a statue.

So far, that's nice, but there's more. What happens when you make one piece encounter another? Ah, yes, that's when they fight. Both pieces come to life and start duking it out right there on the chess board. Obviously, it can only "win" according to the rules of the game, but you get to watch them hack and slash at each other.

I think the rook actually picks up and eats the queen, but it's been many years so don't hold me to that. I know there must have been a bunch of combinations of animations which I never saw.

Anyway, about the duck. As the story goes, the artists had created all of these animation cycles for their game, and it had to pass through the review stage of a project manager. One of the artists knew the way these guys tended to want to "leave their mark" on things, and did something a little extra.

Apparently, the queen was given a little companion. As she came to life and moved around, so did the duck. It would just follow her around the board.

Supposedly, the PM saw this and said "it's great... just remove the duck". So, the artist went in and removed the duck (which had been carefully placed to make that easy), and that was that. The sacrificial duck kept the meddling manager away from the stuff that was important.

When I first read this story, I figured it only applied to artistic situations like that. I've since thought about it some more and now believe it can come up far more often.

Have you ever noticed how some people want to "touch" everything which is being done on a project, even if it has nothing to do with them? It need not be huge, but it seems like they want to have just a small deviation applied to all potential changes. It's almost like they want to be able to point at any given part and say "I'm the reason that happened".

It reminded me of something else. Think about what dogs do when you take them out into the world. Show them a tree or a fire hydrant, and I bet they're going to mark it. Walk a little bit more, and find another tree or similar post, and I bet the dog will mark it, too. It's like they keep something in reserve so they can keep marking as they go.

Given this, what exactly is the difference between these people and dogs who claim territory by lifting their legs on things?”

[kathydsalters31]

Allow Your Dogs To Enjoy Their Walks + Roxie Turns 15!

Roxie likes researching

trees and nature Lhasa Apso Dog Has 15th Birthday Today on April 7 my Lhasa Apso canine Roxie transformed 15 years of ages! Naturally as I’m sure like lots of various other pet proprietors out there, I have actually mixed feelings. Yes it’s fantastic that Roxie has been with me for so many years which she’s currently in relatively good health. It’s additionally noticeable that she’s an old dog now as well as time with her is a lot more valuable than ever before as I understand she’s not going to be with me for life.

My previous Lhasa Apsos Pepper and also Max both lived to 15 years too yet very little past that. It’s stated that 15 years is a great ripe age for a pet dog. Roxie’s poor bro Chester lived only to 13 as well as a half years which was premature in my opinion but if you’ve been reading this canine blog for some time, then you currently know the background behind my late young boy. And I’m naturally desiring Roxie to be around for a lot longer yet. Her mother Kaching lived to a really elderly age of 17 years so hopefully Roxie will have her mama’s genes for long life.

We have actually formerly intended a birthday celebration event for Roxie with numerous of her closer doggie good friends on the weekend break as though one more enjoyable interior pet dog party organized below. Yet the COVID-19 pandemic and resulting self isolation avoided that from happening so regrettably Roxie and also I have to commemorate her landmark birthday celebration on our very own– if you have not seen it yet, see our article and also video concerning suggestions on exactly how to endure self isolation better during this COVID-19 pandemic.

We did the common birthday celebration candle in a muffin point as well as I saw to it was caught on video to protect this moment forever. As it had actually been really nice outside for the last few days, I additionally decided to finally shoot video of Roxie doing her favorite task which is examining nature.

Allow Your Dogs To Enjoy Their Walks More

This brings me to a suggestion I have for other pet dog owners. On a regular basis, I’ve seen pet dog owners around rushing their canines when they go inspect and also sniff out objects outside like fire trees, shrubs as well as hydrants. I’ve been guilty of the same point as I use to hurry Roxie and her bro Chester along throughout dog walks. As they got older, I realized that pet dog strolls are for them, not us people. It’s their walks, not our’s.

All dogs like to check out and also sniff points around however Roxie has always had an above average as well as much deeper passion in having a look at stuff much more, specifically nature like plants. She does not need far away in outings as she’s rather content to remain in a smaller sized location and also spend more of her time researching different things of nature available. She’s created a little a reputation in our small dogs team as sometimes we refer her as a botanist as a result of her love of plants.

Certainly when she winds up falling way too much behind during our group trips, I do have to move her along a little bit to overtake the remainder of the team. When we are alone with simply her and also I, I’ve chosen to give her even more time specifically since it’s rather noticeable that she appreciates researching things so much out there. There’s a tiny danger of her getting usage to my kindness of time which could hamper our team outings, I believe we’ll be okay with some compromising as needed.

I’ve actually been implying to shoot Roxie’s researching practices on video clip for quite some time now. So this 15th birthday video clip was ideal for this as I determined to integrate her special event with her favorite activity leading to possibly a silly yet with any luck great video shown listed below.

Roxie’s 15th birthday celebration +researching nature outside When you are out there with your pet wonderful weather condition and you are in no particular rush, possibly let your canine appreciate examining out things a little bit extra (as long as it’s nothing poisonous). Nevertheless, these are experiences they value a lot in their lives.

source http://www.luckydogsolutions.com/allow-your-dogs-to-enjoy-their-walks-roxie-turns-15/

from Lucky Dog Solutions https://luckydogsolutions.blogspot.com/2020/06/allow-your-dogs-to-enjoy-their-walks.html

[barryswamsleyaz]

Allow Your Dogs To Enjoy Their Walks + Roxie Turns 15!

Roxie likes researching

trees and nature Lhasa Apso Dog Has 15th Birthday Today on April 7 my Lhasa Apso canine Roxie transformed 15 years of ages! Naturally as I’m sure like lots of various other pet proprietors out there, I have actually mixed feelings. Yes it’s fantastic that Roxie has been with me for so many years which she’s currently in relatively good health. It’s additionally noticeable that she’s an old dog now as well as time with her is a lot more valuable than ever before as I understand she’s not going to be with me for life.

My previous Lhasa Apsos Pepper and also Max both lived to 15 years too yet very little past that. It’s stated that 15 years is a great ripe age for a pet dog. Roxie’s poor bro Chester lived only to 13 as well as a half years which was premature in my opinion but if you’ve been reading this canine blog for some time, then you currently know the background behind my late young boy. And I’m naturally desiring Roxie to be around for a lot longer yet. Her mother Kaching lived to a really elderly age of 17 years so hopefully Roxie will have her mama’s genes for long life.

We have actually formerly intended a birthday celebration event for Roxie with numerous of her closer doggie good friends on the weekend break as though one more enjoyable interior pet dog party organized below. Yet the COVID-19 pandemic and resulting self isolation avoided that from happening so regrettably Roxie and also I have to commemorate her landmark birthday celebration on our very own– if you have not seen it yet, see our article and also video concerning suggestions on exactly how to endure self isolation better during this COVID-19 pandemic.

We did the common birthday celebration candle in a muffin point as well as I saw to it was caught on video to protect this moment forever. As it had actually been really nice outside for the last few days, I additionally decided to finally shoot video of Roxie doing her favorite task which is examining nature.

Allow Your Dogs To Enjoy Their Walks More

This brings me to a suggestion I have for other pet dog owners. On a regular basis, I’ve seen pet dog owners around rushing their canines when they go inspect and also sniff out objects outside like fire trees, shrubs as well as hydrants. I’ve been guilty of the same point as I use to hurry Roxie and her bro Chester along throughout dog walks. As they got older, I realized that pet dog strolls are for them, not us people. It’s their walks, not our’s.

All dogs like to check out and also sniff points around however Roxie has always had an above average as well as much deeper passion in having a look at stuff much more, specifically nature like plants. She does not need far away in outings as she’s rather content to remain in a smaller sized location and also spend more of her time researching different things of nature available. She’s created a little a reputation in our small dogs team as sometimes we refer her as a botanist as a result of her love of plants.

Certainly when she winds up falling way too much behind during our group trips, I do have to move her along a little bit to overtake the remainder of the team. When we are alone with simply her and also I, I’ve chosen to give her even more time specifically since it’s rather noticeable that she appreciates researching things so much out there. There’s a tiny danger of her getting usage to my kindness of time which could hamper our team outings, I believe we’ll be okay with some compromising as needed.

I’ve actually been implying to shoot Roxie’s researching practices on video clip for quite some time now. So this 15th birthday video clip was ideal for this as I determined to integrate her special event with her favorite activity leading to possibly a silly yet with any luck great video shown listed below.

Roxie’s 15th birthday celebration +researching nature outside When you are out there with your pet wonderful weather condition and you are in no particular rush, possibly let your canine appreciate examining out things a little bit extra (as long as it’s nothing poisonous). Nevertheless, these are experiences they value a lot in their lives.

from Lucky Dog Solutions http://www.luckydogsolutions.com/allow-your-dogs-to-enjoy-their-walks-roxie-turns-15/

from Lucky Dog Solutions https://luckydogsolutions.tumblr.com/post/621671825540251648

[zach-the-fox]

EXP 630 Episode 1: Appearing Alien

The residents of Kokaua town bustle all over the streets as people walk into the stores and emerge with food, clothing, and accessories. Their hats and sunglasses are their shields from the sun as they attend the festival. Several small, colorful, alien-like creatures among them are seen as well. Walking along the street is a tall woman with olive skin and black hair. Her age appears as if she’s twenty-years-old. She protects herself from the sun with a beige sun hat and dark turquoise sunglasses. A red tank top with a denim mini skirt and sandals are her choice of apparel as she ambles among the crowd. Beside her is a blue alien-like creature with black eyes and long ears.

“It’s quite crowded today, Stitch,” says the woman. “Who would’ve thought there’d be hundreds of tourists attending.”

“Eh,” replies the blue alien to her. “Lots of people. Lilo right.”

“Let’s stick together. Easy to get lost in this crowd.” The two friends stay close to each other as they head down the street full of pedestrians, passing a group of kids as they play around a gushing fountain made from a fire hydrant. The water streams down the side of the road and into a grate, touching a little blue ball inscribed with the number “630” on it. The sphere glows bright yellow and expands a couple of inches before flashing streaks of light and resonating a small explosion, disrupting the children at play, as well as the woman and her blue companion. In the ball’s place lies a creature, revealing to be an alien. The alien is much like the blue one, but in shades of grey with small antennae sticking out from its head and a tuft of hair in the center. A blue bandana around its neck and a long, lizard-like tail are the final features distinguishing it from the other.

The grey alien’s black eyes open halfway, rolling its head slightly before putting a paw on top of it. “Oh, my head,” it says in a deep voice, revealing the gender to be male. He rolls himself onto his belly and proceeds to stand, keeping his paw on his head. “What happened…?” As he brings his head up, he notices the kids staring at him, including the girl with the blue creature. “Where am I?” There is no answer from anyone. “What’s going on here? Why are you people looking at me like that?” He takes his paw away from his head and gasps upon noticing it. “What?” Looking at the store behind the children, he sees his reflection in the glass window and scurries over for a better look. His eyes widen at the sight of his appearance. “W-what?! H-how can this be?!”

“Stitch, look,” Lilo begins. “It’s another one of those experiments.”

“Look like Stitch,” Stitch says. “But Stitch don’t recognize cousin.”

“Must be one we’ve missed… Let’s catch him.”

The grey alien sees Stitch approach him. “Uh… H-hello…” The blue creature doesn’t respond and instead continues toward him. “W-what are you doing…?” The grey one holds up his arm, showing the palm of his paw to Stitch. “D-don’t come any closer… Ple-” A powerful force produces from his palm and pushes the blue alien away into the building across the street, crashing through the glass window. The sudden move causes shock among the crowd, especially to the grey alien. “What the?! How did that happen?” Stitch emerges from the opening of the shattered window with a growl. “Uh oh…” The other creature backs away a couple of feet before turning around and taking off into the alleyway. The blue experiment chases after him, as well as the woman. Crossing roads and weaving through buildings, the blue alien finds that the experiment has disappeared into the crowd. As the girl catches up to the blue alien, they split off and cut through the sea of people. Lilo and Stitch sprint through the streets, avoiding pedestrians as they struggle to chase down the grey experiment. Upon meeting up in an alleyway, they stop and scan the area.

“Where did he go?!” shouts Lilo. “Stitch, did you see where he went?”

“Naga,” replies Stitch. “Stitch no see cousin.”

“We have to find him. He couldn’t have gotten far.” The pair comb through the alleyway, walking up while continuing their search for the perpetrator.

As they head up through the corridor and turn the corner, a trashcan lid pops up, revealing the grey experiment from within. He steps down onto the pavement and wipes his forehead. “Phew, that was close…” The experiment looks at his reflection again from a small puddle. He then looks down at his paws, and clenches them. “What the heck happened to me…? How did I even get this way…?” He picks his head up. “I need to get out of here…” He turns to the street, watching the people pass by. “Wait… I shouldn’t go out with that crazy woman and her blue dog thing out to get me… I need to find something to cover myself.” Turning his head, the alien takes notice of a white sheet hanging from a wire. He goes over and snatches it. “This will do!” Wearing it over his head like a hooded poncho, he walks out into the open, swerving around people as he goes through. No one seems to take interest in the little alien as he crosses the road. After a minute’s walk, he’s out of the town and along sandy shores of a beach. The waves crash against the sand from the sparkling water as the sun reflects its rays off of it. Seeing nobody but beachgoers, the grey alien waltzes along.

“Hey, Kid,” calls a voice, he’s immediately stopped by a pair of odd-looking experiments. One of them is short and colored in lime-green, feminine in form. The other alien beside her appears to be yellowish in color, taller and fatter. One of his limbs consists of a mechanical contraption, appearing to be a prosthetic of some sort. “We saw what you did,” says the green one. “The way you tossed Stitch into a window like that.”

“That?” the grey alien questions. “Listen, I didn’t mean it… I didn’t know I was-”

“Yo, chill,” she interrupts. “I’m not condemning you. That was cool. “The name’s Bonnie, by the way. This is my good pal, Clyde.” She points to the plump alien. “I see you’re new around here.”

“Uh, I guess,” goes the grey experiment. “I’m just confused as to what’s going on…”

“You’re telling us,” utters Clyde. “Never met an alien experiment whose confused.”

“Alien experiment?” The grey one repeats. “What do you mean by-” He’s then interrupted by the dark blue alien pinning him to the ground. The grey experiment pushes the blue creature off him and back away a couple of feet. Stitch growls and snarls at him. “That’s not good… Listen! I didn’t intend to send you flying! I swear… I didn’t know!” The grey alien holds his paws up to him as a sign of ease. Stitch growls at him, getting ready for his next strike.  “I don’t mean any harm. I really don’t know how I-” A projectile flies in from behind and hits the grey alien. Electricity surges all around his body for a few seconds before falling onto his knees, then flat on his stomach. His eyes remain open, but halfway as he feels as if all the energy left his body. Stitch, Bonnie, and Clyde turn to where the blast had originated from, pinpointing it to the girl, who has a blaster in her grasp.

“Stay away from him!” Lilo tells the duo. “This experiment is dangerous.” She approaches the downed alien as he still lies, motionless in his resting spot. “We need to take him back to Jumba and figure out what he is.” These are the last of the conversation the grey alien hears before his eyes close, dragging him into a dark void of unconsciousness.

 ***

 The grey creature’s eyelids are light enough to open again, but his reaction is slow, causing his eyes to stay halfway open for a few seconds before they become fully opened. As his senses return and he comes to, he finds himself surrounded by glass all around. He looks around frantically, placing his paws on the glass to realize he is trapped in some cell aboard a ship. His breathing and heartrate increase in speed. “Where am I now?!” The grey alien lets out a gasp and backs up when a large, round head with a set of four eyes appear in his view. He makes out the creature before him as large and obese with pale pink skin. The larger alien examines him, forcing the grey one to remain still, paralyzed with fear.

“Hm,” begins the plump hippo-like alien. “Well, looks like our specimen’s awake now. Where did you find this one again?” He turns to the girl behind him with the blue alien.

“In town,” says Lilo. “He just activated in the street out of nowhere. Stitch and I tried to catch him, but he got away. We spotted him with Bonnie and Clyde. I would be careful, Jumba. This experiment seems to be dangerous. He launched Stitch into a store with some incredible force.”

“Little girl need not to worry,” Jumba tells her. “I am careful. Shouldn’t be long before data gives us information.” He motions to his computer. The grey alien looks toward Stitch, growls and stands at the ready. The grey alien tries to remain calm in his situation despite being contained like a prisoner.

“Who wants cookies?” Another alien appears. This one is much different than the plump one. From the build of the body and male tone, its gender is revealed. He is a rather slender-looking alien, lime-green in color with one eye while wearing a long muumuu covering his entire body. He holds a tray out. “I just pulled them out of the-” He pauses, noticing everyone. “Jumba, are you making more of those little monsters again?!”

Lilo defends Jumba. “No, Pleakley! We just found this one in town.”

“Eh,” Stitch adds. “New experiment. Unknown to Stitch.”

“Unknown to us,” she corrects him, looking at the grey experiment, who still has his paws on the glass, staring at the group. “That’s odd… He doesn’t seem to be acting violent or anything…”

“Lilo!” calls a feminine voice. Everyone turns and notices another woman, very similar to Lilo, walks in. “Where have you been?! You and Stitch are still grounded!”

“Nani,” Lilo starts. “I was only trying to-”

“Don’t you “Nani” me, Young Lady!” Nani spurts. “You and Stitch should know better to-” She stops, then notices the grey alien in the glass prison. “What are you guys doing here? Creating more experiments?!”

“We’re trying to find out what this new little monster is,” Pleakley tells her. He turns to Jumba. “Why can’t you just look him up on your archives?”

“Because new experiment was not created here, nor is full alien,” Jumba replies. He steps aside from his computer, showing the data encrypted on it as he reads along. “Experiment 630. Contains a high concentration of Experiment 626’s DNA as well as designed within the 600 series, but also has DNA like little girl and sister within. 630 is not full alien experiment.”

Lilo’s face turns to surprise. “You mean, this alien experiment is really a human being?!”

“Yes and no,” Jumba responds. “Data shows that Experiment 630 is newly-registered experiment with telekinetic powers. Not much else is known about him.” As he explains, the grey alien’s face turns to shock, as does everyone else’s. “Quite fascinating. I have not seen a human-turned experiment before.”

“Crazy,” comments Stitch.

“Are you going to let me out of here?” asks the grey alien. “I promise to behave.”

“I’m not sure if we should,” Lilo tells him. “We just met you, and we barely know who you are.”

“My name is Zach!” The imprisoned experiment tells them. “I came from the mainland. I was staying in Honolulu with friends for a graduation party, and then I woke up like this… I don’t know why I’m this way or how I appeared in the streets. Please, I don’t mean any harm. Honest…” Nani looks to Lilo, who then nods to Jumba. The big alien types away at his computer, raising the glass barrier up into the ceiling, freeing the little grey being. “Thank you kindly…”

“Sorry Stitch and I chased you down,” Lilo says. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. We didn’t know.”

“Eh!” replies Stitch. “Zach okay?”

“I’m fine,” Zach responds. “I’m just unsure of what to do now…”

Lilo steps closer to Nani, leans closer to her ear, and whispers something. Nani protests her idea at first, but as Lilo continues to beg and plead, Nani lets out a sigh of defeat before giving in. Lilo then turns to Zach. “Why don’t you come with us? We’d like to bring you inside the house for dinner.” Stitch turns to her, confused and one eye narrowed. Jumba and Pleakley look at her the same.

Zach keeps his glare at her. “Um, really…?”

“Consider it as a way of apologizing and making up for getting off at the wrong foot.”

 ***

 Everyone sits around a small dining table in the kitchen, eating food prepared by Nani. Lilo explains everything she knows to the grey alien. “The alien experiments, like Stitch here, were created by Jumba Jookiba as his attempt of being an evil genius to conquer the universe. The experiments were meant to be his little army, including Stitch. When Stitch got loose, he tracked him down to Earth with his friend, Pleakley. Well, after a bit of quarreling and such, he eventually befriended me and my older sister, Nani. Long story short, we became one big ohana, or family in Hawaiian.”

“Yeah, and you all had a funny way of meeting,” says Zach. “So, all the strange creatures I saw in town were Jumba’s alien experiments? Why are they all living peacefully?”

“Stitch and I managed to convert them all to good,” she continues. “Peace was achieved because of us. However, Jumba never stopped making experiments.”

“About Zach,” Stitch butts in. “Zach tell us Zach’s story.”

Zach points to himself. “My story? I… can’t really tell much other than being here with my friends… We came here for a graduation party in Honolulu. We were staying up late to dance and enjoy ourselves. The last thing I remember before being an alien experiment was when I went back to my room and crashed into bed…”

“Then, you know more than we do,” Pleakley says. “I’m sure your friends are okay and are worried about you.”

“I need to find them… I also need to find out how to turn myself back…”

Stitch puts his paw on his arm. “Zach relax. Will find friends.”

“New experiment 630 looks tired,” says Jumba. “Perhaps you should stay the night.”

“Stay?” he repeats. “Are you all comfortable with that idea? I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding on your privacy.”

“No, it’ll be fine,” Pleakley tells him. “Jumba and I turned the old ship into a bed and not breakfast hotel. We’ll provide you with a nice cozy bed for you.”

“Thank you,” Zach responds. “You are kind souls… Despite the odd encounters earlier.” Everyone gives a little chuckle.