#i told you id draw them getting groceries

[lavb-b]

Grocery Panic!

There goes tonight's dinner.

[daydream-cement]

Organs in the Wash Ch. 7

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Thank u v much to my beta baby @bri-sonat <3 This chapter is a little intense so please take care of yourself during and after reading <3 but if you wanna skip and come back for ch. 8 that's okay too :) I left part of some Deseret untranslated. I wonder if one of you can figure out the translation...

Warnings: Kidnapping, serial killers, blood, torture (cutting), and psychological abuse

Relinquishing his grip on your hair, the killer backed away, retreating back to a workbench. Now given the opportunity, you were able to glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. Concrete floors, walls lined with aged bricks, and the only light sources were a few dangling bulbs. Old metal shelves lined the walls, containing old paint buckets, tools, and miscellaneous housing fixtures that he had probably used to fix things in your apartment at one point or another. If you had to guess, you believed you were in the basement of your apartment building. But why would he choose to stay so close to where he had taken you from?

“You know... I always thought I was going to be a doctor. You can see by my handiwork that I have a steady hand. Maya was an interesting case... I bled her first. Hung her from the rafters above you and let it all run down the drain.” His tone was so casual, like he was describing his last trip to the grocery store. At the mention of Maya hanging from the rafters, you glance upwards and see a chain dangling overhead. The clinking of metal against the workbench draws your attention back down to him, “Washing the organs was the fun part for me. It really gave me an up close and personal look at each of them. After I called the police, I knew I had made a mistake by putting the organs in the wash.”

The effort to talk makes your entire body ache and your voice cracks as you speak, “...So you killed Abbey?” 

He turns around to look at you, delighted you were willing to have a conversation with him, “Exactly. I disemboweled her. I’m keeping her organs nice and fresh in some ethanol on the shelves over there.” He then gestured to the metal shelf with the paint cans that you now realized were filled with human organs, not paint, “She struggled so much. It was so annoying. The police will be lucky if they get an ID on her with what I did to her. With some patience and experimenting, hydrofluoric acid isn’t that hard to make yourself... The internet really is wonderful.”

He crosses the room, approaching a different workbench. Well, you thought it was a workbench, but the straps hanging off of it told you it was where he planned to torture you. Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to show your fear, but this was your nightmares come to life, “And why me?”

He paused what he was doing, only for a moment, to think. He resumed preparing the dissection table for you as he spoke, “At first... proximity. It was easy access, but in the end, it was for the challenge. I would have thought you had recognized my voice, but from the look on your face earlier, you really didn’t know it was me, did you?”

“No...”

“Of course, you didn’t... Girls are so stupid... You did surprise me with your ability to understand the Deseret Alphabet. I wasn’t particularly connected to the language, but every serial killer needs his thing, ya know?” He smiled fondly and gestured wildly with his hands, clearly passionate and remorseless in his killing, “You’re special. I’m going to let you choose the phrase I carve into you. Maybe we can write a sweet letter for your boyfriend to read when she finds your corpse.” 

------

“Repeat those phrases from the letter back to me again.” Robin requested as she moved slowly about your apartment, checking every nook and cranny for anything unusual other officers may have missed. 

Miranda pulled the notebook from her jacket, flipping through the pages to find the translation to the letter, “‘The answer is so near, yet you are blind to the possibilities. Many of these old buildings hold more secrets than you can even imagine.’ And it was also signed, ‘your neighbor.’”

Robin only hummed in response, her eyes trailing along the baseboards for anything that could indicate ‘secrets’ like hidden doors or passages that could have given the killer access to the apartment. Her eyes stopped when confronted with your bookcase and she called over to Miranda to help her, “Here, help me move this bookcase.” 

Tucking the notebook back in her vest, Miranda took two long strides to grasp at the bookcase, pushing while Robin pulled. The blonde huffed as she heaved the bookcase out of the way, “Do you think there is a hidden door or something?” 

“That’s what makes the most sense to me...” Robin shrugged, glancing around the bookcase to the exposed wall to find nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing... Robin... What am I going to do? I need to find her. I-” Miranda’s hands move up to her hair, ranking through the locks roughly as to take her aggression out somewhere. She began to pace across your apartment, her chest beginning to heave from the stress and panic that was setting in. The sound of Robin’s ringtone made both of the women stop in their tracks. 

“Just-” Robin pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced down at Adrian’s contact glowing on her home screen. Before she took the call, she looked at Miranda intently, providing her with a couple comforting words, “We will find her. She will be back with you in no time...” 

Answering the call, Robin placed it on speakerphone so she wouldn’t have to relay all of the information back to Miranda later on. Adrian spoke before either of the women could get a word out, “Get back down to the station. We caught him.”

Robin let out a light laugh, unable to believe Adrian could be talking about the serial killer they had been searching relentlessly for, “Caught who?”

“The killer. There is no reason for you to be in Ms. L/n’s apartment any longer.” Adrian’s voice was tainted with annoyance. 

Miranda’s eyes widened and she snatched the phone from Robin’s hand, holding the speaker up to her mouth. The way her voice filled with hope made Robin’s heart ache, “Is Y/n there? Is she with you? Can I talk to her?”

“We haven’t tracked her down yet. We are interrogating him right now to get her location. He keeps feeding us this bullshit that he doesn’t know who we are talking about. We are checking his ‘so-called’ alibis, but we are sure they will fall through.” Miranda’s face immediately fell at Adrian’s response, a scowl returning to her features. Robin and Miranda exchanged a glance, hesitant to believe they had found the killer so easily. The women were so confident in their suspicions the killer was still in the building that they doubted the other detective’s abilities. 

Robin took her phone back from Miranda with a roll of her eyes, “We are going to continue with our theories until you confirm or disprove his alibis.” 

“Waste of time, Griffin. I want you both-” 

“Yeah, we will finish up here and get down to the station when we are done.” Robin noticed the way Miranda’s face fell at the imminent order from their superior, so she opted for the path of disobedience. She cut off Adrian mid-sentence and hung up when she ended her sentence. The brunette smirked at her partner, “Let’s find a killer.”

-------

“Now... Don’t be causing any trouble. You are going to get on this dissection table without any fuss or I’ll really make you regret it, hmm?” He spoke to you like you were a toddler which was incredibly infuriating. If you were going to die anyway, wouldn’t an attempt at escaping be worth the try? On the other hand, if you were going to die, would trying to escape be worth the additional torture? 

He pulls the dissection table to your side, a horrible scraping noise accompanying the action from the metal sliding against the concrete floors. 

“After you, I think I’ll move on to Brisbane... They have the medical school there. I’m sure with all of my experience, I could really impress them with my talents. University of Queensland Mayne... I could be a surgeon.” He situated the table meticulously and moved to fetch a large overhead light he would no doubt use to accurately carve his letter to Miranda into you. His delusional mindset made your brow furrow, “Think of all of the good you will be doing by allowing me to practice on you. This is very altruistic of you.” 

Monotone and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help yourself, “Happy to help.” 

Flicking on the light, he adjusted it over the table and you were then blinded by the LED bulbs, “I knew you would understand. Now, let’s get you all set up here so we can get started.” 

He squatted in front of your chair, untying your legs and continuing his friendly chatter, “I could even continue my extra-curricular surgeries for practice when I’m in Brisbane, ya know? After we are done here, I have a little timer set up to burn this apartment building to the ground. I can collect on that insurance money and buy a couple properties in Brisbane, rent them out maybe? I have time to figure it all out.”

“Oh, sure.”

Circling the chair, he began to untie your hands, reminding you to behave before he continued telling you about his master plan, “Now, no running... I made pretty good money with the laundromat and as a landlord, but you really need to follow your dreams.”

From the moment the rope slipped from your wrists, you bolted, scrambling away from him as quickly as possible. He must not have been expecting you to run as he stumbled and tripped over the chair you had been sitting in. 

You really had no clue where to run, but you dashed past his work bench, pausing momentarily to lift the far side of it and send the tools crashing and skidding across the floor. Hopefully, if you made enough noise, someone nearby would be able to hear you calling for help. You screamed for help, calling out Miranda’s name, and calling out your own name for any passerby to hear. 

As you moved through the basement, you could hear his angry shouting behind you, “Get back here, you dumb bitch.”

Glancing back over your shoulder, he wasn’t any closer, but you figured you should keep throwing things in his path. Passing by one of his beloved shelves of organs, you yanked the shelf to the floor, taking seconds longer than you should have when you saw him sprinting even closer. The horrible smell of preserved organs and ethanol filled the air when the cans burst open upon hitting the floor. 

Continuing down a hallway, you realized the opportunity for you to be trapped was growing high. He groaned in frustration behind you, pausing momentarily to look at all of his hard work undone by your action. You attempted to rattle the handle on two different doors to only find them locked. Further down the hallway, there was a final door and metal bars moving up the wall, leading to a hatch in the ceiling. 

You could hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor- he must have jumped over the fallen shelf, resuming his pursuit of you. Ignoring the door, you assumed it would be locked like the others, so you choose to climb the ladder instead. Your heart dropped when your foot slipped on the second step, knowing you had wasted a split second and the odds of him grabbing your legs and pulling you to the floor was high. 

You made it up another two steps when your foot slipped again. The adrenaline and anxiety from being caught was making your entire body shake. A glimmer of hope shone through when your hand grasped the latch of the hatch, pushing upwards. It was beyond heavy, but you were able to shift it upwards an inch. 

A hand around your ankle causes you to yelp out a final cry for help through the small opening leading to the outside world. His other hand came to grasp the back of your shirt and he gave you a yank backwards and you were filled with self-disgust when your hands slipped from their places on the latch and ladder. He sent you flying to the floor, your head hitting the brick of the basement wall. 

The last thing you heard was the hatch slamming shut under the weight of itself. 

----

Miranda was trying her best to help Robin, but the pressure of finding you was starting to get to her. She began pacing back and forth across the back wall of your apartment while Robin continued searching for anything out of the ordinary. The shorter woman shot her partner an annoyed glance, wishing Miranda could set aside her feelings for you to make headway on finding you, “Miranda! Can you help me here?”

“I’m doing my best, Robin! Get off my ass!” Miranda shouted, stopping in her tracks and stomping her foot in defiance. A hollow sound from beneath her echoed from the strike of her boot. Furrowing her brow, Miranda glanced down to the floor, repeating the action once more and receiving the same response. Shifting over a meter, Miranda threw her foot down once more to hear solid ground instead of the echo. 

“There is no need to throw a tantrum, Hilmarson. We will figure this out.” Robin must not have noticed the change in noises like Miranda had as she rolled her eyes at the blonde. The brunette’s phone began to buzz in her pocket once more and she huffed in frustration at seeing Adrian’s contact once more. Accepting the call and shoving the phone to her ear, Robin was less than welcoming to her boss, “What?”

“Where the hell are you?” Adrian shouted into the receiver of his office phone. 

Robin glanced over at Miranda kneeling on the floor, her fingers dancing around the edges of floorboards, attempting to lift them from their place, “...investigating a lead.”

Miranda studied the floorboards, noting a different wear pattern at the edge of where the hollow noise began. Pulling a pocket knife from her vest, Miranda wedged it into the boards, prying up the board enough for her to push her fingers under it and lift. A group of boards were attached to one another, revealing a hole in the floor, a ladder lining one of the walls. 

“The suspect’s alibi is airtight. The dental records came back on the second victim. Her name was Abbey Moore.”  Robin was only paying partial attention to Adrian’s words as she watched Miranda. “Both the victims and this kid all have something in common; they are all tenants of the same landlord. We are thinking the landlord could be behind it all.”

At the sight of the secret tunnel, Robin’s eyes widened, a satisfied smile spreading across her face in knowing they had been right. It all made perfect sense that the landlord had been the one to frame his male tenant, kill the two women, and kidnap you. While she didn’t know his motive, he had the opportunity and access to harm his tenants, “It’s him. The landlord did it.”

“We need to- You knew?” Adrian couldn’t hide his shock at his detective’s statement. 

Robin crossed the apartment, filling Adrian in before she and Miranda continued their investigation, “We followed Hilmarson’s theory. Send backup back to the apartment building. She found a hatch leading somewhere. We are going to follow it down and see what we can find.”

Adrian barked an order, but it was no use. The constable and detective were too determined to save you and catch a killer, “Get out of there, Griffin. Wait until I get down there with a couple more constables. We don’t know what we are up against here.”

“There is no time. We will leave the hatch open for you to find, Adrian.” Robin shook her head, knowing if she or Miranda were to get hurt due to her continuous disobedience, she would be put on desk duty for the foreseeable future. Robin hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, “Okay, Hilmarson. You want to go first, or shall I?”

-------

The horrid agony of a scalpel digging into your forearm brought you back to consciousness. You could sense the blinding LEDs before you even opened your eyes. Your head throbbed and there was a tightness across your chest and legs. Straps held your body in place and your head hitting the bricks earlier had left you with a large gash in the back of your head. You attempted to cry out in pain, but your voice was muffled by a rag that tasted of wood stain causing a burning sensation on your tongue. 

Glancing up from his work, he now donned a pair of magnifying glasses to make sure his work was neat and tidy. He was using a rag doused in hydrogen peroxide to add an extra sting whenever he wiped away the blood, wanting you to suffer as much as possible, not giving you the opportunity to regain your breath between cuts, “You shouldn’t have done that. Now you wont get to choose the little note I leave on your corpse.”

He had only made his way through two words, 𐐔𐐨𐑉 𐐣𐐮𐑉𐐰𐑌𐐼𐐲, and tears had already flooded your eyes and were pouring down your cheeks. His movements were short strokes, making sure to leave enough room on your forearm for everything he wanted to say. If this experience were to be reflective of your death, this was going to be a prolonged and harrowing experience.

[mysticetus]

on the topic of diy hrt as ive seen it going around the dash a few times, i want to offer what i can in terms of help as i got on hrt in secret while still living with my parents. i cant give advice for paths i didnt take (getting the hrt itself online) but i can detail the process i experienced so you know what to expect if you pursue.

i highly recommend seeing if there is a planned parenthood in your area and if it offers gender affirming hormone therapy. i had a couple things that made this an option for me that may be barriers for others - i was over 18, and they do not offer informed consent to minors. i also had a job that allowed me to pay for the visit and the prescription. lastly i forced myself to learn how to drive so i could get to the planned parenthood and the pharmacy.

for cost, i recommend checking beforehand if planned parenthood accepts your insurance. They did not accept mine so i had to pay out of pocket for the appointment. Luckily they have a sliding scale system that charges based on your monthly income. The amount changes (and this may vary by region as well), so you can call them for a cost estimate. As someone going for testosterone, my visits have cost between $39 and $63 out of pocket.

For me getting HRT occurred in 2 phases: A telehealth call where they told me about the effects of HRT and then had me digitally sign an informed consent form. And then an in-person visit to my local PP office to get my blood pressure and hemoglobin (finger prick) checked. I then walked out with a T prescription.

For bloodwork, planned parenthood offers this service as well but it was a “strongly recommended but not required” option for me. I did eventually get my levels tested through PP but it cost me ~$40 because of lack of insurance. i later learned i could get my bloodwork done for free at quest diagnostics, for which PP sent in an order that automatically went into quest’s system and all i had to do was make an appointment online filed under “all other tests” … in my area quest can be found in grocery stores. I recommend looking into quest for bloodwork if your insurance would cover it.

Estrogen and progesterone are not controlled substances (often used in birth control), but testosterone is since it can be abused as a steroid. so if you are pursuing T this may present challenges - in my experience it makes it hard for me to change pharmacies without calling planned parenthood first, and you need to present ID when picking it up.

At first i swore by gel and not injectable because i was afraid of accessing needles, and i used goodrx coupons to get gel at a reasonable price. I do not recommend this as it is not sustainable, goodrx coupons are great but always changing. Unfortunately if you do diy hrt you are probably going to be doing injections. i tried for several months to get gel in a sustainable way but the only way i was able to do this was when i had insurance that would cover it (which i since lost access to).

You can get needles and syringes in bulk (100 for like $10) on amazon. Your prescription will probably include an order of needles and syringes but pharmacies are generally not awesome to get them through, because they tend to cost more and be out of stock…. for subq i use 25g 5/8” needles to INJECT, and 18g 1.5” needles to DRAW. i use 1 ml syringes with a LUER LOCK. make sure the needles and syringes have the same locking mechanism so they can connect to each other. the alternative to a luer lock is a slip tip, which you do not want.

Even though on the bottle it says INTRAMUSCULAR USE ONLY, i and many other trans people do subcutaneous as the needles are smaller and less painful. “subq” injects into the layer of fat beneath the skin and releases the hormones slower over time. I personally inject into my stomach in the area below my belly button - i pinch the fat and inject at a 90° angle. there are detailed videos on how to do a subcutaneous self injection on youtube, and here is planned parenthood's guide.

if you are scared of needles, i am too - i used to black out when i had to get a shot. i can say that subcutaneous rarely hurts and its definitely tolerable to me. i know its freaky to inject into your stomach but the fat layers there make it pretty painless. if you pinch your fat your nerves focus on the pressure your fingers are making, and as long as you hold the needle like a dart and inject quickly you barely notice it.

For questions i recommend looking on reddit. there are many subreddits dedicated to DIY hrt as well as logistical questions in the context of navigating pharmacies and doctors. And, i am always happy to offer what help i can.

[butterflyintochains]

Reaching The Summit

Two wonderful years after her return to tennis in 2024, and getting together with the two loves of her life after the worst trauma she's ever been through, life is good for World Number Eight, Gabriella Lemieux. She's taken her comeback era slowly, building her career back after her mental health hiatus in 2023. And, it's worked out amazingly so far. The 2026 season has been her annus mirabilis so far. With titles in Indian Wells and Stuttgart, as well as her first slam final in Melbourne.

Now, the Whistler Trio land in London for Wimbledon.

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

She might be getting ahead of herself, which isn't something Renee would usually like, but this might just be the one. Gabriella has never allowed herself to think like this before, even after her return from hiatus. She's always taken every slam attendance as a gift, and never let herself think of winning one until now. But, as she heads down to the tournament complex for media day ahead of the tournament beginning, she thinks that this might just be the one that works out. Elias and Quinn are doing some grocery shopping for them for the week, she's been told to expect a Canucks invasion for this fortnight. The boys are running on the high of winning their first Stanley Cup, so this is going to be fun. Her first media engagement is a short press conference, something all of the top seeds will be doing today. Then, she's given her ID card. Then, the interview rounds, she gets in for her last interview of the day, for ESPN with Todd Martin. ''Good afternoon, Gabriella, how are you feeling ahead of this year's tournament?'' Todd asks her.

Gabriella says, turning her nana's ring on her finger. ''Good. Happy, healthy, confident. I love grass, I love this tournament, very eager to get going.''

Todd asks her, a kind smile on his face. ''Excited to add some silverware to the Cup rings from your boyfriends?'' Gabriella laughs, she hates that she wasn't there to watch that game five against Toronto. ''Yeah, here's hoping. I've no idea how they've handled the turnaround, but I'm glad they have.''

Todd asks her. ''Now, we all know that you like taking things slowly, but are there any little inklings in you that are telling you that this is the one?''

Gabriella candidly says, honest as always. ''There always are, but I just ignore them until things look realistic.'' Her interviews are done after that, and so is she. Gabriella heads home to help put the groceries away. ''When does the draw come out, Ella?'' Elias asks her. Gabriella checks her phone for the order of events. ''Tomorrow, I'm also booked for a session on Court One with Coco.'' Quinn asks her, pressing a kiss to her temple. ''Here's hoping you get a good one.''

Elias nods, running his hand through his hair, somehow they managed to convince him to ditch the buzzcut. ''Amen, Roland Garros was just unfair.''

She's tried to teach her boyfriends about how truly random tennis draws are, about how she never knows who she's facing until the draw actually comes out. But, it seems they love her too much to care. She still hates the Oilers for beating them in the playoffs the year they got together. How has she gotten so lucky? What Angel did she appease two and a half years ago? All she hopes is that Angel lifts her to her first slam title.

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

Round One

Brock, Nils, Conor, and Dakota arrive from home for her first round match on Court Two against Eugenie Bouchard. A rematch of the same match from Roland Garros. First Mondays are always hectic, but Gabriella tapes her pink Head racquets up, gifts to emulate her first ever racquet, the one she still carries in her bags. She takes to the court, and opts to serve first. The sun is shining, it's a lovely day, and she's dead set upon getting this match done quickly. She takes the first set 6-2 with very little fuss, but for Eugenie arguing with the umpire over a line call after she wasted her last challenge on Gabriella's clearly good ace down the middle. She looks to Daniel, the two share an amused look about her opponent's histrionics.

Gabriella races ahead in the second set to a 5-0 lead, and is at deuce on Eugenie's serve. Seems as if her opponent has chosen now to lock in, firing up two amazing serves to salvage the set. ''Game: Bouchard. Lemieux leads by five games to one, and by one set to love.'' Gabriella goes to serve for the match with six Vancouver Canucks watching her. She holds to love, and seals the match. ''Game, set, match: Lemieux, two sets to love: six-two, six-one.''

After handshakes, on court media, and a shower, Gabriella goes for her press conference. ''Amazing match, Gabriella, how important is it to you to get these early matches done quickly?'' Gabriella downs some water, and says. ''Really important, Michael and I are always talking about conserving energy for the stretch ahead, if I'm to make the final eight, these matches must be over quickly.''

Someone from L'Equipe asks her. ''How big was getting drawn against the first Canadian finalist first round?'' Gabriella laughs, and corrects the journalist. ''Singles finalist, Daniel won here in doubles before she lost to Petra in 2014. It's just another match, that was then, this is now.'' It may sound harsh, but it's not like she played Petra herself, everyone plays a one time runner up at some point, right?

She gets home for an early dinner with the gang, Daniel says to her. ''Thank you for bringing me up in your presser by the way, kiddo.'' Gabriella says, forking some pasta. ''Well, you started what the five of us are carrying on, so... besides, Eugenie was a waste of space even when she was good.''

Brock and Conor burst out laughing. ''Meow.'' Brock says. Gabriella shrugs, and says. ''Well, I'm right, aren't I? Leylah and I have both made slam finals, Denis and Felix are working on winning this in doubles, Bianca has won a slam. We're the golden generation.'' Dakota asks her. ''Who have you got next, Ella?''

Gabriella finishes eating, and says. ''Clara Tauson from Denmark. Played her a bit in juniors and a bunch since, so I know her game. We're on Court One on Wednesday.''

That night, Gabriella finishes writing in her journal, and gets ready for bed before the boys do. She throws the windows open, and ties her hair up for sleep. She studies the draw a bit, she could face Bianca in the semis, and Ostapenko in the quarters. She's in the bottom half, so she's dodged Coco and Aryna for now. ''Alright, enough draw studying, time for sleep.'' Quinn says to her.

Gabriella cocks an eyebrow. ''Coming from the captain of the Stanley Cup winners, and his primary alternate.'' They kiss her cheeks, and climb into bed either side of her. ''Got us there, huh?'' Elias says.

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

Round Two

The worst part of tennis has to be the waiting, waiting for your turn to go on court, waiting in the locker room after your match, waiting to see who you're playing next. That's why Gabriella is thankful to be first up on Court One today, so she can play, and get home for some lunch with her boys. Gabriella gets set up, and goes for pictures and coin toss, electing to serve first as she always does. After warmups, they get on with the match. ''Gabriella Lemieux has elected to serve first. Ready? Play.'' Gabriella's first service game goes to deuce, but she closes it out with some expert net play.

The set goes with serve to 4-4. Both players using all of their skill to hold on with each other, this is what matches look like when you've played against someone since you were a teenager. But, Gabriella breaks Clara to thirty to serve for the set at 5-4. ''Game, Lemieux.'' They change ends, and Gabriella serves the set out to two deuces with a massive ace out wide to seal it. ''Game, and first set, Lemieux: six games to four.'' Clara takes her break before set two starts.

The second set is a battle of attrition, going with serve to 6-6 after Clara holds to love. ''Game, Tauson. Tiebreak.'' Gabriella loves tiebreaks, she trains for them most often of all the pressure situations. She quickly races to a 5-0 lead in the tiebreak, Clara wins her final service point for 5-1. Gabriella serves up an ace for 6-1, and takes the match after Clara sends a forehand wide. Two down, five to go. She has Annabel for on-court media. ''Gabriella, stunning match today, how are you feeling right now?''

Gabriella smiles, and says. ''I'm feeling great, I've never been better. Having six Stanley Cup winners in my camp helps.''

Annabel smiles, looking up to the boys in her box. ''I can tell, I am getting a new aura from you this year, Gabriella. You seem so much more confident on court this year.''

Gabriella nods, and adjusts her watch. ''Yeah, I'm here to play, I'm here to win. Obviously, I'm taking this each match as they come, but I'm not going down so easy anymore.''

Gabriella gets back to the house for something to eat and some rest. Elias is scrolling through his phone while she rests her legs across his, when six dings sound out around the living room. Gabriella was nodding off on Quinn's shoulder, but not anymore. ''Oh, wow...'' Nils says, breathless.

Intrigued by the stunned faces of her boyfriends, Gabriella asks. ''What's going on?'' Quinn hands her his phone, kissing her head softly. ''The design for our cup rings.'' The design is overwhelming, but beautiful all the same. The team logo in sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. With the year of victory, the team motto 'All Together, All In' and several other tiny details. ''Wow, all of you are getting one of those?''

Elias nods, and rests his hand on her knee. ''Yeah, all of us.'' Conor asks her a similar question. ''What do you get for winning this, Ella?'' Gabriella hands Quinn back his phone, and says. ''A quarter size replica of the Venus Rosewater Dish, and a members badge - which allows me free use of Wimbledon grounds for life.'' Daniel notes, having already won this title twice in doubles. ''Which means we could move our grass training camp here instead of going to Germany.''

Gabriella says, keeping herself in check as always, there's still a mountain to climb after all. ''That is; if I win this, I've still got five more matches to win to do that.''

Quinn assures her, only the two of them can get through to her sometimes. ''You'll get this done, if today was anything to go off of.'' She so wants to believe him, but she's been burned so many times. But, she has just as good odds as anyone else does, doesn't she?

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

Round Three

Center Court, finally, her first match on the main court. She was expecting to face fellow seed Linda Noskova, but she lost on Wednesday to Daria Saville in a massive three set match just after Gabriella herself beat Clara. She gets in from physio, and goes to get ready for her match. Her racquets are all prepared, she gets changed into her whites, and waits for her signal by praying. Finally, at two, she and Daria are called for their match, and walk down to the court entrance. They'll be playing under the roof today, British summer is nothing if not rainy when it wants to be. James Keothavong is umpiring the match, and does the coin toss, Daria wins and elects to serve first. They do photos, and get on with warmups. ''Ready? Play.'' Daria's first service game goes to deuce, Daria taking it with some baseline rallying. ''Game, Saville. First game, first set.''

Gabriella races to a 3-2 lead in the first set, the sound in here is deafening with the roof on. But, in time, she's 5-3 up, and has set points. Which she converts to take the set. ''Game, and first set, Lemieux: six games to three.'' Gabriella takes her break after the first set, splashing some water on her face, and moisturizing her hands. She gets back to the court, and holds to love to open the set. ''Game, Lemieux. First game, second set.''

The second set goes with serve to 4-4, Daria holding with three deuces. Gabriella goes up for what she hopes is her final service game. The game also goes to deuce, she serves out wide. ''Out!'' The line judge calls. Gabriella says. ''Challenge!''

James says. ''Lemieux is challenging the call on the left far side line, the ball was called 'out'.'' Hawkeye proves her right. ''Advantage, Lemieux, Lemieux has one challenge remaining.'' The rally goes long, Daria sending a forehand wide. ''Game, Lemieux.'' She follows that up with going 40-15 up on Daria's serve. Daria serves up the line, Gabriella finds the corner, and seals the match. ''Game, set, match: Lemieux. Two sets to love: six-three, six-four.'' She's in the fourth round again! Her third year in a row getting this deep!

After the match, in her press conference, someone from the Tennis Channel informs her. ''Your next match is against Badosa, you had a big match in Rome in May, how will you approach this on grass?'' Gabriella downs some water. ''The same way I do every match: treat it as my first time ever playing her, and stick to my own plans.'' She's lying through her teeth, of course. But, she's not going to tell the world's media that she'll be going in furious about Paula criticizing her for her relationship with Elias and Quinn in Rome two months ago. This is the happiest she's ever been, and she'll have no one talk down to her for it. ''Gabriella, Paula leveled some harsh words your way regarding your relationship in Rome, will that impact your match on Sunday?''

Gabriella snaps a chunk off her energy bar, and eats it. ''I'm not getting into a war of words with anyone. But, I have two men who I love, and love me, and if she doesn't get it, I don't care.''

After press, Gabriella gets home to the boys, and kisses them both on the lips. They take dinner outside that night, it finally being dry enough to eat outside. Then, relax while watching Felix and Denis' doubles match with the guys, Leylah, and Bianca. They're playing two Chinese players. ''Where's Danny?'' Bianca asks.

Gabriella says, resting her head on Elias' shoulder. ''Having dinner with Nenad.'' The match gets going, Denis and Felix off to a roaring start, going up 5-0 in the first set. Sealing it 6-1 with a lovely ace from Felix. ''That's our boy, Oxford!'' Leylah says. She should be resting for her doubles match with Taylor Townsend tomorrow evening. They take the second set in a close tiebreak.

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

Round Four

No more Middle Sunday means a busy day for the bottom half of the women's draw and the top half of the men's. Gabriella is up third on Center Court today. And, the holding pattern begins anew for her after lunch. Finally, at four, they're given the signal to take to the court. Paula leads them out as the lower ranked player usually does. The roof is open today, and it's beautiful. Gabriella is fired up, the ice in her veins that have given her the name 'Ice Queen' replaced with fire from a point to prove. She'll have no one insult her or her boyfriends. Not after Antoine broke her so completely. Renee would tell her to be the bigger person, but she's in the box right now. The umpire does the coin toss, Gabriella winning, and electing to serve. She holds to love with four aces to open the match. ''Game, Lemieux. First game, first set.''

The set goes with serve to 5-5, Gabriella goes up for her last service game of the set, feeling better than ever in her legs and arms. Her game goes to 40-30, and she closes it out with an ace. Paula responds with a hold to fifteen. ''Game, Badosa. Tiebreak.'' They change ends for the tiebreak. Paula wins the opening point after Gabriella nets a backhand. But, Gabriella responds with a point from an overhead after a short rally. ''One-all, new balls, please.''

After 3-2, Gabriella somehow reels off four points in a row to take the breaker and the first set. ''Game, and first set, Lemieux: seven games to six.''

The second set goes much the same way, with serve to 5-5, Paula wins her final service game with a big love hold. But, Gabriella responds with one of her own in just a minute. ''Game, Lemieux. Tiebreak.''

She has no idea how she does it in this heat, but Gabriella reels off five points in a row to go up 5-0 in the second tiebreak. Paula fires up an ace on her service point for 5-1 to salvage the score a bit. But, it's not enough, Gabriella takes the final two points, and the match. ''Game, set, match: Lemieux. Seven-six, seven-six.'' After handshakes, Gabriella blows some kisses to her box, and gets ready for her on-court interview.

Once home, she does a debrief with Daniel while the boys get dinner going. She's up against Ostapenko in the quarters on Tuesday. They review her matches, two straight set wins, and two big threes. ''Her serve is a bit weak this tournament, isn't it?'' Gabriella says, writing that down in her notebook. ''Yeah, the net game is not great either.'' Daniel observes.

Elias puts their plates of pasta down. ''I'd have thought you'd be done with homework at 25, alskling.'' He jokes, pressing a kiss into her hair. Daniel laughs. ''Not in this sport, Elias.''

Quinn kisses them both on the cheek. ''Or in ours, Pistol.'' Gabriella puts her notebook and laptop away, and says. ''I'm technically a year behind on my tennis study as well, since I took almost all of 2023 out.''

They eat dinner, the rest of the team out eating elsewhere tonight. Gabriella finishes eating first, and a mass text goes out to the first quarter-finalists about dress code for the post-tournament dinner. Black tie as always. And, the semi finalists will be taken to get kitted out after their next matches. ''Do you two have suits on hand?'' Gabriella asks the boys while in bed that night.

Quinn nods, and says. ''Yeah, we do, why?'' Gabriella pulls up the text, and says. ''The Champions Dinner is black tie, no sneakers. I'll be taken to get an evening gown after my match.''

Elias says, assuring her. ''We're good on our end. Can't wait to see your dress.'' It's premature, she's still got three matches left to win, but their faith in her is all she's ever wanted. She always had to 'earn it' from Antoine, he always withheld support until she made a final, but here they both are, believing in her so completely.

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

Quarter Final

The match blows by her as if it was a dream, a very simple and straightforward 6-3, 6-3 win over Jelena Ostapenko gets her into the semi finals to either face her best friend or Jasmine Paolini. Her third Wimbledon semi final in a row since her return from hiatus. She's also the only remaining player in the women's draw to not drop a set yet. After that, she is taken to a fancy evening gown shop with Camille to pick up her dress for Sunday night if she wins. If not, she can re-use the gown for the WTA Finals in Riyadh. She tries on a few dresses in different colours, one in black, one in red, and one in blue. ''Any inklings, dear?'' The manager asks her.

Gabriella hates this indecision, there are still so many things left over from her mental breakdown three years ago, she says. ''Not yet, Mrs Lockhart.''

Camille proposes, having an idea. ''How about white? This is Wimbledon after all, right?'' Why hadn't she thought of that? White is perfect, she's playing in white, she should celebrate in white. ''I like that idea, Camille, thank you.''

Mrs Lockhart brings out a few white gowns, she tries one on, looking herself over in the mirrors. The dress is Greek inspired, and feels like wearing clouds. ''Ella... you look like a princess.'' Camille says, in awe of her. And, she does, she looks like a totally different person to the woman who just walked off court two and a half hours ago. ''I think this is the one, my boyfriends will love it.'' Mrs Lockhart takes the dress to ring it up for her. ''Boyfriends? Plural?'' Gabriella gets back into her casual clothes. ''Yeah, it's a long story.''

They leave for home with the dress in a garment bag, and a matching clutch bag. Gabriella already has a pair of white heels to match. She gets in with the dress, and hangs it in the wardrobe, the boys are giving her sad looks when she joins them in the living room. ''What's happened, my loves?''

Quinn looks to Elias, as though he can't bring himself to say something. ''Pistol, you tell her, I can't.'' Elias takes her hand, and says to her. ''You're playing Bianca on Thursday.'' Initially, Gabriella feels sick to her stomach, her first title run at a slam might go through her best friend. But, she's a tennis player, she is honed and trained to be ready for anything, even playing someone who means so much to her. ''Oh... okay, that's fine.''

Quinn seems surprised at her acceptance of this match, and says. ''How is that 'fine', Angel? She's your best friend.'' Gabriella takes Quinn's hand in her free one, and says. ''You play your brothers twice a season, honey, it doesn't change how much you love them, does it?'' Quinn shakes his head. ''Bianca and I are basically sisters, we'll be fine. I'm just happy she's back in the deep end of a slam.''

Elias says, also in awe of how calm their girlfriend is. ''How can you be so calm about this, Angel?''

Gabriella laughs, and kisses them both, these two men who healed her heart. ''My medicines, firstly. But, I'm a tennis player, these things happen, I've played both Bianca and Leylah plenty of times, nothing changes for us.'' She also says, thinking it over a bit more. ''If you think about it, it's better like this, really.''

Quinn seems taken aback at that statement, as much as they love her, the differences between their sports are still a bit of a puzzle to solve. ''How is it better?''

She tries to think of a hockey analogy, but finds none available to her. ''If I'm to win this, shouldn't my first slam run include the last Canadian slam champion? Make it more legitimate in that sense?'' Daniel comes in from outside, and says. ''Gabriella is right, boys, the friendship is safe, and this match does lend her some legitimacy.'' Gabriella loves these two so much, even if it's hard to explain these things to them sometimes.

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

Semi Finals

The All-Canadian semi final is the first of the two on Center Court on Thursday. Normally, the two best friends would talk to each other in the locker room, but there's nothing except for silence between them this time. Jessica and Coco are also hanging around, waiting to play their match afterwards. Two Canadians and two Americans in the final four. Safe to say, their era has begun at last. Gabriella and Bianca take to the sunlit court, and get set up for the match. They're taken for photos and the coin toss. ''Gabriella, heads or tails?'' Gabriella says. ''Heads.'' She wins the toss, and elects to serve.

After warmups, they get going. Gabriella racing ahead to a 3-1 lead, with no points lost on serve so far. She goes up for her third service game, which is a comfortable hold to fifteen. ''Game, Lemieux.'' Bianca's next service game goes long, four deuces until Gabriella hits a really good backhand passing shot. ''Advantage, Lemieux.'' The last rally is long as well, Gabriella putting the break away with a volley. ''Game, Lemieux.'' One more game until the ball change, Gabriella holds to thirty to seal the set with a breadstick. ''Game, and first set: Lemieux, six games to one. New balls, please.''

The second set goes with serve to 3-3, when Gabriella breaks Bianca to love to go ahead 4-3 for the second ball change. ''Game, Lemieux, new balls, please.'' However, Bianca pulls out all of her best shots t break Gabriella to love to level it back up at 4-4. ''Game, Andreescu.''

The next two games go with serve to 5-5, but it's a struggle, both games going to deuce. As does Bianca's final service game, Gabriella is fighting for her life at the baseline, Bianca feeding her deep shots, until Bianca nets a slice. ''Advantage, Lemieux.'' She wins the game after Bianca double faults, another break. ''Game, Lemieux.''

Bianca, the slam champion she is, breaks Gabriella to thirty to force a tiebreaker. They have a short sit down before the tiebreak, then get back to work. The tiebreak goes as normal to 6-4, Gabriella having match points, but Bianca comes back to level it up at 6-6. Chasing Gabriella to 8-8 for the next few points. Bianca hits a double fault, giving Gabriella back the lead at 9-8, which she finally puts away at 10-8 in the tiebreak. ''Game, set, match: Lemieux, two sets to love: Six-one, seven-six.''

Gabriella embraces her best friend at the net, shaking like a leaf. ''Go and win this one, Ella.'' Bianca says to her. Gabriella says, voice trembling. ''I will, Bianca, I promise.''

She has her on-court interview with Marion Bartoli. ''Gabriella... that match, the emotions in it, describe them.''

Gabriella takes a deep breath, and says. ''I can't really, I mean, Bianca is one of my best friends, since I was seven or eight, I could not have asked for a better semi-final opponent.'' It's now that the tears come, she finally realizes what's going on. ''And now, I'm in a Wimbledon final!''

Marion chuckles, understanding completely how she's feeling. ''You are, there's one match left. But, I assume you want your boyfriends, yeah?''

Gabriella dries her eyes with her hands, which won't stop shaking. ''Yeah, yeah I do.''

Marion says, looking to her box, where Elias and Quinn are in tears. ''I'll let you go in just a second. Who do you want for your next opponent?'' Taking more deep breaths, Gabriella thinks of how best to answer this. ''I want a good match on Saturday.''

After doping control, and her press conference, Gabriella gets home for a nap. The emotions of today overcoming her, she's in her second ever slam final, her first here, and it's so agonizingly close. Three and a half years ago, she never once dared to dream of a Wimbledon final, and now she's here. She has some time with her boyfriends outside after dinner. ''I'm one match away from my first slam title.'' She says, almost breathless from it.

Elias says, kissing her temple. ''And, we're going to be in your box the whole way on Saturday.''

Quinn says, informing her of who is awaiting her in that final on Saturday afternoon. ''You're facing Jessica Pegula, by the way.'' The defending champion, a rematch of her semi-final from last year, one she lost in three close sets. ''Cool, can't wait.'' They decide to turn in for bed after Gabriella has some time to update her journal.

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

Finals

The team head down to Center Court after breakfast on final Saturday. This has been the longest morning of Gabriella's life, she's taken her meds, checked and triple checked her bags, and revised her match notes hundreds of times. Denis and Felix have just won the doubles title together as the team arrive for the singles final. They get checked in, Camille hugs her before going to the box. Elias and Quinn kiss her lips, and follow her. The next time she kisses them, she'll either be a champion or a runner-up. Michael gets her conditioned in the gym. ''Alright, Ella, I'm handing you over to Danny and Renee. Good luck, we're with you.'' He says. Gabriella embraces him, and turns to her parents. ''We love you, Ella, and we're so proud of you already.'' Her dad says.

Her mom says. ''Stay calm, and look to us if you need strength.'' Gabriella nods, and says. ''I will, I love you both so much.'' They go off to the box to take their seats. She's slowly shedding her entourage. She runs over strategy with Daniel one final time, and he says. ''If you need help, you know where I'll be, kiddo.''

Gabriella nods, and says. ''Always, Danny.'' He too leaves for the support box, leaving her to talk with Renee while she changes for the match. ''Any little worries, ma cherie?'' Renee asks. Smiling brightly, Gabriella shakes her head. ''For once in my life: no, Renee.'' And, for a change, she's not lying, she honestly cannot think of anything she's worried about, for the first time in four years, her mind is clear. ''That's my girl, I'll see you soon.'' Renee hugs her, and heads for the box. Then, she's alone, nana's rosary in hand, praying for victory.

They're given the call to take to the court, and walk out to massive applause. Beautiful bouquets of flowers in their arms from the board. The rest of the Canucks will be back at the house for the match, due to fly home in the morning for their cup days. Gabriella and Jessica set up, and go for photo calls and coin toss, which Jessica wins, and elects to serve. After warmups, it's off to the races. ''Jessica Pegula to serve. Ready? Play.'' Jessica holds to love to seal the first game. ''Game, Pegula. First game, first set.''

The first set goes with serve to 5-5, Gabriella saving a set point on her fifth service game. Jessica holds to two deuces to go ahead 6-5, and breaks Gabriella to thirty to seal the first set. ''Game, and first set, Pegula: Seven games to five.'' The first set of the whole tournament Gabriella has dropped. She takes her break after the end of the set, coming back with a fresh pair of shoes on.

The extra grip does wonders for her into the second set, she goes up 3-1, feeling much more settled in now. In game five, Jessica holds to love to salvage the scoreline. ''Game, Pegula.'' Not to be outdone, Gabriella holds to love to go ahead 4-2. ''Game, Lemieux.''

Jessica chases her in the scoreline to 5-4 and a ball change. Gabriella will have to serve for the set, she goes up 40-15 in no time, and serves up an ace that's called 'out'. ''Challenge!'' She quickly says. The umpire says. ''Lemieux is challenging the call on the service line, the ball was called 'out'.'' Hawkeye proves her right. ''Game, and second set, Lemieux: six games to four. Players are tied and one set all, first set: Pegula.'' Jessica goes for her break between the sets. It's now that Gabriella notices that she's playing in front of the Princess of Wales, and tires to not get swept away by that. This is just another match, after all.

The third set is mostly Gabriella, she goes up 3-1 in just under twenty minutes. Jessica holds to one deuce to get her serve back at 4-2. ''Game, Pegula.'' Gabriella goes up to serve before the final ball change of the match, she's taken all the way to two deuces, but holds tight for 4-2. ''Game, Lemieux. New balls, please.'' She's two games away from her first slam title.

They exchange holds for the next two games, the set going to 5-3, but Gabriella is one game away, Jessica is two away. It's so close, closer than it was in Melbourne where Aryna blew her off the court in two hours. Jessica goes up for her service game, and the rally goes long, Gabriella winning with a beautiful volley. ''Love-fifteen.'' Three points left. Jessica deals up a soft serve, which Gabriella answers with a forehand passing shot. ''Love-thirty.'' Two points away now. Jessica serves an ace to stay in it. ''Fifteen-thirty.'' The next rally goes long as well, Jessica sending a backhand long. ''Fifteen-forty.'' One more point left. Jessica serves, Gabriella nets a backhand, the nerves taking over for a bit. ''Thirty-forty.'' This is fine, still one final point to win, it's okay. Jessica serves, the rally goes to ten shots, Gabriella putting it away with a backhand down the line. ''Game, set, match: Lemieux, two sets to one: fife-seven, six-four, six-three.''

It's all a blur from there, the hug at the net, her tears on court, running up to her box to be mobbed by her people. Four years ago, she didn't even want to be alive anymore, and now she's a Wimbledon champion. She returns to her bench floating on air, and gets herself ready for the trophy ceremony. Jessica is presented with the runner-up trophy, and gives a lovely speech to her box, and congratulates Gabriella. ''Ella, as a friend, I'm so proud of you. You've not had the easiest career, it's been hard watching the struggles you've been through. If I was gonna lose to anyone, I'm glad it was you, Angel. You and your team deserve this so much.'' Gabriella dries her eyes again.

Finally, Gabriella is presented with the Venus Rosewater Dish, she holds it high, and takes a few deep breaths before making her speech. ''First, an honour to finally meet you, your highness.'' She says to her future queen. ''I'm glad my first slam win was in this country, Canada and the UK are family.'' She says, holding her trophy close. ''First, to my friends and family - none of this would be possible without you here to hold me up when I need it. Camille - thank you for taking me on all those years ago. Renee - thank you for being an ear when my mind betrays me. Michael and Daniel - I'd not be here at all without you both, thank you for taking a risk on a teenager when you did. All of you mean the world to me.'' She looks to her boyfriends. ''Elias, Quinn - when we met, I was still healing from horrible trauma, and you two are all of my missing pieces, I love you both more than you'll ever know. This is going to look great with your cup rings.'' She gives credit to Jessica's team, and addresses her friend last. ''Jess, Mama Bear, I am so lucky to be your friend, and have you in my life, I'm so happy to have had this match against someone I care about, thank you for giving me a fight, thank you for being my friend, thank you for being someone the New World Kids lean on.''

After her victory lap, she's escorted inside for photos, and a chat in private with the princess. After that, she presents the trophy to the crowds outside from the balcony. Then, finally, she's reunited with her team. The trophy is taken for engraving. ''Wait, why did they take it?'' Quinn asks.

Gabriella says, kissing him again. ''It needs engraved, I'll get my replica tomorrow night.''

Elias says. ''You've done it.'' Gabriella laughs, and shakes her head, correcting him. ''No, Lias, we've done it.''

After doping control, showering, and changing; Gabriella goes for her final press conference, and gets back to the house to a party. One which she retires early from to take a well-earned nap. That was three hours of battle, plus a further two of ceremony. The boys join her not long after, three champions in one bed.

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

Sunday

Taylor won the men's title a couple of hours ago, a massive five setter against Tsitsipas. The first American men's winner since Sampras. Gabriella is ecstatic for her friend, Taylor always looks so disappointed in himself for even losing a set, so she's happy that he gets to be a champion for once. Camille is helping her get ready for the Champions' Dinner, where she'll get to dance with her friend instead of a sexist with his equally sexist girlfriend watching them. They've opted for a simple wavy half-updo decorated with white flower pins. Her makeup is also simple but for a silver and gold eye. Gabriella gets into her gown and heels, and adjusts her necklaces. ''Oh, don't forget this.'' Camille pins her members badge to her dress. Now, she's ready. She meets the boys, all suited and booted, downstairs. ''Well, don't you two look handsome?'' Gabriella says, kissing them both.

Quinn says. ''Well, we've gotta keep up with you, don't we? You look like a goddess.''

Gabriella confesses, smoothing her white dress down a bit. ''I feel like one too.''

Placing a hand on her back, Elias says. ''So you should.'' Their limo arrives, and they're driven to the clubhouse, and welcomed into the hall. All decked out with plants and crystal decorations. They find Taylor and Morgan, who look amazing themselves. ''Thought you'd go with white.'' Morgan says, looking beautiful in seafoam green. Gabriella laughs, and says. ''When in Rome, y'know?'' She hugs Taylor as well after he greets her boyfriends. ''Here we are, Taylor!'' Taylor beams down at her, still taller even when she's in four inch heels. ''Here we are, Ella.''

Elias asks as they are lead to their table. ''How does tonight go, then?''

Taylor says, helping Morgan to her seat. ''We're presented with our replicas, make speeches, and have our dance.'' Gabriella adds, they were briefed about this in a text after the men's final was done. ''Then; dinner, and we get to relax.''

The wheelchair champions and all three doubles teams are presented with their trophies, then Gabriella and Taylor go up onto the stage. They're interviewed about their runs to their titles, and given their trophies before sharing the first dance of the night, a slow waltz to accommodate how tired their legs are. They're finally taken for photos before joining everyone again for dinner. ''That was really nice, guys.'' Quinn says.

Morgan asks them. ''How do cup parties look compared to this?'' The boys share a cheeky look, something clearly happened at Trevor's cup party they haven't told Gabriella about. ''Not as civilized as this, let's just put it that way.'' Elias says.

The quintet eat dinner and talk about the tournament while a highlight reel plays on a big screen. Gabriella can barely believe she's sitting here, there will always be that evil part of her brain that tells her she's living someone else's life. That says she doesn't deserve any of this, but that part of her grows smaller every year. This is her life, and no one can take it from her. Dinner is done, and the quintet watch the dancing from their table. Then, join the party after some time to talk to some of the board.

The trio leave at ten, and head home to get some quiet time together. They change for bed, and the boys get into bed together. Gabriella undoes her hair, removes her makeup, and does her skincare before writing in her journal. Finally, with aching feet, she slides into bed between her boyfriends, they all share kisses, and get some well-earned sleep. ''I love you both so much.''

Quinn says, kissing her shoulder. ''I love you both as well.'' Elias kisses her forehead. ''I love you too, both of you.'' Two hockey boyfriends and their tennis girlfriend finally get some rest.

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

Vancouver

The Whistler Trio got home a few days ago, the emotions and jet lag finally wearing off after four days. They're happy to be home with the cats and Finn at any rate. But, today is a special day for them. Gabriella will be presenting her Wimbledon trophy to the team. They're up early, dressed nicely, and Gabriella packs the trophy into its travel case. After breakfast, they head down to Rogers Arena, and are met by Allvin and Rutherford. ''Congratulations on the slam title, Gabriella.'' Rutherford says.

Gabriella smiles, still very tired from all the action over the last two and a bit weeks. ''Thank you, sir. I'll get the trophy out in a bit.'' They stop on their way to admire the team's first Stanley Cup, Gabriella reads the names of the team on the cup, both of her boyfriends' names are the first two names on the top row of the team's section. ''God, it's beautiful, wish I could've been here to see you win it.'' She says. She was busy in Paris at the time.

Allvin says to her. ''You had every reason of your own to miss the final, Gabriella.''

They carry on to the team's common area, where Gabriella is mobbed in hugs from the team. Teddy is ecstatic, and says. ''Show us the trophy!'' She's surprised at how excited Teddy and Arturs are, given she beat one of their own to win this trophy. Gabriella sits down to take the trophy replica out, and pin her members badge onto her white summer dress. She proudly holds the trophy in her hands, still as perfect as it was last Sunday. ''Here it is, my replica of the Venus Rosewater Dish! And, my members badge.''

JT looks at the engravings, and says. ''It's beautiful, is your name on it?''

Gabriella nods. ''Yeah, on the back with the year, and my nationality.'' Thatcher says, drinking some coffee. ''First of many on both ends, hopefully.''

Jake asks her, sitting next to Elias on her left side. ''What's the badge for?''

Gabriella explains, still holding the trophy, she's already so attached to it. ''I'm now a member of the club at Wimbledon. So, this badge means I have free use of the facilities there for life. All champions get one.'' She adds with a smile. ''Which means; no more training camp in Germany! I can go straight to London from Paris if I want to.''

Filip asks her. ''Where are you ranked now?'' Gabriella puts the trophy back in its case, and pulls her phone out to check. ''I went in as Number Eight, I'm now Number Five.'' She adds, speaking to the guys. ''When do you get your rings?''

Tyler Myers says, almost as if he can't believe he's being asked that. ''Early October.'' Gabriella nods, and checks her schedule, she's in Japan that week, with a title to defend. She'll see what she can do with Camille in that time, she wants to be present when they get their rings.

A couple of days pass, Gabriella finally has her trophy shelves sorted out with all of her trophies looking nice together. Her slam trophy is next to her comeback award from 2024. Those two bookend her journey to being who she is now. Her Dubai trophy is right next to them with her Montreal trophy. She's won a grand slam, it'll probably take a while to sink in with her. But, at least it can sink in at the same time as the cup win does with her wonderful boyfriends.

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

This took forever to work out! Still kinda sick, but on the mend thankfully. Wanted to save this up for a big milestone post as well, so this'll be my 1000th post! Loved working on this fic, even if it took forever. I also wanted all of Gabriella's matches to feel significant to her personally, having her beat two fellow Canadians on the way was important, one of whom is her best friend. Having Taylor win the men's title was the cherry on the cake as well. So was having the Canucks win the 2025/26 Stanley Cup. Three champions in one relationship.

So, here it is! Finally done after so long of working on it!

Enjoy!

[keefwho]

March 06 - 2024 Wednesday

10:31pm

6/10

This morning I took a little time to myself in the shower to clear my mind and hopefully get hungry. I didn't have an appetite but I made soup in a box and ate the whole thing. I had to use the bathroom and it made me a little late to Jared's ride. His car was very small, I felt cooped up in his car. We talked about my feelings and his experiences as well, specifically instances of him getting pissed at people in the military. He mentioned how there are some things he can't talk to his wife about without it actually causing more problems and this is something I learned too. It was more evidence that you need multiple people to compliment different aspects of yourself. Grocery shopping went smoothly, but I forgot to buy french fries. The old lady asked for my ID because of the drinks and I made a joke about not being expired despite my expired ID. On the way back I got to control the music and we chatted some more. I gave him a hug after we got all my groceries in. I put everything away and had to use the bathroom again. It wasn't a fun time and I decided to take another shower afterwards. I shamelessly enjoyed some 'me time' and baked in the hot water. At this point I decided to make today a self care day. When I got out, I sat down and relaxing while watching Forsen play a new Getting Over It sort of game. I ranted to Daisy about what self care meant and started composing a hierarchy of personal struggles to try and identify and relate them to one another. I cut up all the veggies I bought today for freezing and made stew for lunch. I ate the whole thing so I finally had a good meal in me. I sipped on a coke and decided to do a request today while I chatted with Turkey in VR. The conversation was pretty normal and after I finished the drawing, I felt like leaving. I told her that I didn't feel like socializing but what I actually meant was that I want to be social but I only want to talk about the struggles on my mind. She said she was here for it so I opened up about everything and we started talking. Her and her friend gave some very good perspectives and actually started helping me feel better about some things. Also a troll joined us to talk shit but we got him to open up about his problems genuinely too. I left to join Daisy and chill. We watched the last three episodes of Bojack which were very thought provoking and just stacked on to all the thinking I was already doing, in a good way. I felt good watching them with Daisy. I said goodnight to her since she didn't want to bed call. After she went to bed, I tried doing a little Babbdi stream while playing intercom vaporwave like I wanted to try. 1 guy showed up to say something but that was it. It was mostly about playing the game though and maybe using it as an opportunity to voice my thoughts some more. Towards the end I did that but most of it was spent quietly pondering.

~~~

Today after treating myself with some respect, I realized I want to talk about things more often in general. The past couple days have taught me how beneficial it is to open up when things are hard and how willing so many people are to listen. I don't have to put on a front, I can show up with the struggle at full strength. I've learned my cure to loneliness is to choose to not be alone. I also reminded myself about how important positive reinforcement is in general vs directly fighting something. So I'm working that into how I behave differently. Some part of me feels like I'm wearing a mask and that deep down, it's all still the same. Maybe thats true right now, but change takes time. Maybe I'm not going deep enough, I'll have to figure that out.

3 Things That Made Me Happy Today:

Taking some self care time.

Talking with Turkey and her friend about my feelings.

Watching Bojack with Daisy.

[godzexperiment]

yet again we got that modern verse(s) brain rot folks-

-he is very much in stories, told about him that he doesn't know about... he is vaguely aware it comes with life but opts rather not think of it

-living off an fake id only because when he first wandered into his like go to bar/club *where he plays onstage at times/is around the most people the most frequently* (some guy was like ???? 'it's so weird you got in without one? or dont have an id and that is kind of huge if you want to do lots of things especially drink' and thusly nix sought to correct said issue) but anything else? it just goes over his head... like he had nobody offering advice/no need so yeah -favorite 'defacing' of public property is elaborate chalk pastel art on buildings/pavement (he especially enjoys doing it at like 3am after an rainy day so that maybe some passerby might be like 'okay life sucks an little less' seeing it and sometimes he does it knowing it's going to rain) but he also very much does other stuff/is somebody who'll draw little smiley faces places for fun -often obtains flowers from grocery stores as an little treat for himself (how he comes by them... is not usually by purchase) and goes about like pressing them,etc to preserve them often *thusly very often has flowers he's drying/in containers around his place-live ones near the few windows etc* -does an lot of 'morally good/for the better of society' things just without considering that aspect to it all, he dumpster dives often and like yeah he does things like donate what he can,etc but it's just like the palms of his hands *something that's just that big an deal to him*

-depending, might just have something like an traffic light sat in a corner and if somebody gets to be in his space/opts to comment he'll be like you don't get to know it nearly crushed me but... 'i'm planning to modify it with mood lighting or something' -has kept track of all his antics on the radio (he can tell you which siblings he's made jokes about/that 'two thursdays ago I went off topic talking about how beautiful people are and got an text in the morning from like the owner asking me if i could have phrased motherfucking masterpieces better') in general dude still very much absorbs what he is told,etc -always has snacks+energy drinks or soda,etc in his thigh holster bag and various other things (bobby pins, safety pins, hair ties,etc in case anybody he bumps into is like 'ah shit i need x due to an issue' etc) as such often has little moments where people are like 'wow this is going to mean i dont feel silly on my date' etc and nix is just like :) that is so cool, i did an good anyways.... -usually keeps flight to his warehouse space/wherever but sometimes has scheduled moments+situations where it's just like speeding through the air+doing tricks,etc (dude loves utilizing rooftops for this- run jumping an stupidly large gap no human could make and opening his wings to glide across etc) -which wing maintenance? given how durable they are isn't like an major deal etc but some nights he just gets overwhelmed with the 'if i get paint on them? it sticks and dries but wont flake off etc???? what do I do? i don't have anybody to ask for how to handle it or to help and that makes me feel awful' -does have his fake id choices memorized but also 'i dont remember what fake birthday i gave myself' types of situation which mixes with his anxious/existent nature to lie etc whoops nor does he really have an fake history sorted (sometimes, he'll metaphor and adapt things 'yeah im the youngest out of lots of siblings- i didnt really know them though growing up' etc) -sometimes dances along to the music in his headphones; typically when he's doing late night/wee am hours grocery shopping and is 100% an kicks against the ground to glide the cart faster from point a to b (never any crashing hazard as were he to encounter another/or some display he can you know quickly stop, redirect his pathing) *he's totally done it and had some little kid wide eyed like 'i just learned cool forbidden knowledge'* -as established he does not contain much money *often spending it faster than he obtains any/usually on others+donations places etc and like you know "theft"* but he certainly keeps change,etc to put in say parking meters or an quarter to offer somebody who could use it,etc (physical currency is his vibe; also he very much enjoys claw machines at the store)

-which he also tends to despite hating being in public,etc will take time to put things where they belong/fix messes at stores if he comes across it (somebody dumped clothes here on top the soda cases and- it wont take me more than an minute to return it where it belongs) -remarkably despite clumsy accidents often especially due to traffic; has yet to end up having to brush off ems/emts and such fuss. that would be like 'hmm you already seem to be healed, not that hurt?' yeah no nix knows that would be Terrible and doesn't even go anywhere close to such places

-might foster kittens for quite some time, depending on various circumstances and overall is often prone to 'yeah this stray kitten wouldn't stop following me so now is napping in the hood of my jacket till we get to the vet'

-enjoys being on roofs when it's rainy/outside in general during stormy weather especially if it's summer rain and getting caught in sudden rainy weather doesn't bother him (if anything were he hanging around somebody and they darted to get out of it he'd just stand there like xD while getting soaked to the bone teasing them over it)

-likes walking along things like parking spot buffers, fountain edges etc and will sometimes go out of his way to do so without actually thinking much about it

[mellohd]

You seem to genuinely want to help people, so let me drop in and say;

Being a pedophile is not inherently bad. It's a bad. It's an attraction. You're still a kid, so it's okay and valid to not wanna interact with pedophiles, but It's not okay or valid to say they're inherently dangerous.

Lemme try to break this down for you, by getting a little off-topic.

Imagine someone who fantasizes about murder. They draw violent art, they write violent fiction, they might even buy certain toys for the express purpose of taking them apart. These are all perfectly healthy, legal, and morally correct ways to handle this feeling. They might go into a fandom space and, instead of posting about the woman at the grocery store they thought about, they might instead post about a specific character or a specific media. It helps get it out of their system.

Now imagine if someone told that person "Don't do that, you're upsetting people. By engaging with these things, you're letting them fester, and you'll really, genuinely kill someone one day."

And they took it to heart. They never played with their toys again. They never wrote or drew the "bad" fiction. And it did fester. It bubbled up in their mind as they tried to ignore it until one day it was too much to handle.

The same is true for dealing with other mental issues. Trying to "kill" thought makes it more powerful. Any thought. And when people are unhappy (like, for instance, feeling ashamed of things that bring them joy), they tend to be more violent and unpredictable.

You're so, so close to the point. You're so close to understanding what we're saying. You just need to make that last leap.

If someone is a pedophile, that doesn't automatically make them a predator. And not all predators are pedophiles (like any assault, it's about control, not attration.)

I hope you aren't getting too much unsavory anon mail from that post. Genuinely. But I know how people can be.

I appreciate the effort to be nice, but I simply disagree with this as a whole. Your analogy doesn’t quite fit the situation. I was trying to get the op to realize that they were a pedophile, and encouraging them to get therapy.

To build off of your analogy, when you start having the violent urge to kill people, your first thought should be to seek professional help, where you can receive treatment for these thoughts. It shouldn’t be to buy toys and weapons and posting violent material online that can upset and damage other peoples mental health.

Id also like to say the pedophilia is inherently bad, when you start having these kinds of thoughts that means you could have a potential hormone imbalance or something wrong with the structure of your brain. That’s why most people don’t condone pedophilia, because they don’t have a mental issue. Pedophilia is a mental disorder that can be treated

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

matching tattoos

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k (the longest i’ve done in a while whoo 🎉)

"Stevie, I don't think your mom will be too happy with me if I let you do this," Harry said, eying his two year old daughter. She had been asking about it for weeks, but so far he'd been able to distract her before you caught wind of their conversation.

"Pleeeease, daddy?" She pouted, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

"Why don't we have some cookies instead, love?" 

"No." 

"Ummm... oh! I know what we can do! Why don't we go in my studio? You can play the piano, or the guitar, maybe sing a song for me..." He trailed off.

"I want to do this! Please?" 

Harry's heart melted in three seconds flat. How could he say no to her? He tried, he really did. He opened his mouth to say "no, mommy will really kill me, why don't we do something else?" but one glance at her sweet face left him speechless. He couldn't do it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

"Alright, we'll do it... but!" He cut himself off, raising his voice slightly to be heard over her excited cheering. "But! We only have two hours til mommy gets home." She nodded eagerly, bouncing on her feet. 

"And if we do this it has to be our secret, mommy can't know. Can you keep this secret?" He said, making a very serious face. 

"Yes!" She squealed, giggling. 

"Pinky promise?" 

She beamed, holding her tiny hand up to his. He wrapped his finger around hers, squeezing for just a second before releasing her. 

"Go get the markers then, we have to work fast!" 

Stevie screamed in excitement, running as fast as her little legs could carry her. He heard her digging around the art room, probably making a huge mess, before he heard a scraping noise on the wood floor. She was pushing a box of markers that was nearly as big as she was, groaning dramatically. 

"It's... too... heavy," she panted.  "Please help!" 

Harry smiled, leaning down to pick up the box. He scooped her up too, settling them both down on the table. 

"Alright, Miss Styles," he said, adapting a posh accent. "This is a proper tattoo parlor, so we shall do this properly, hm?" 

She laughed, kicking her feet. 

"I want the mermaid!" She said, pointing to the ink on his forearm. 

"Patience, Miss Styles," He smiled, wetting a paper towel under the faucet. "First, we have to get your arm ready!" 

She held out her arm, tracing her little fingers over his other tattoos as he wiped her wrist with the cloth. 

"So, the mermaid, hm? You have excellent taste, Miss Stevie," he joked, throwing the towel back to the sink. "What color?" 

"Black, like yours," she said, smiling sweetly. 

He felt his heart squeezing as he reached for a black marker. She was so precious. He would do anything, literally anything, to make her happy. He knew it was probably dangerous, how much power this two year old had over him, but he didn't care. He had been in love with her since the day she was born; since the first time he had looked at her. 

"We can match, look at that!" He said, beginning to draw on her arm. "Did you know that I love you sooooo much?" 

"I love you too, daddy," she giggled. "And that tickles!" 

"Oh, it tickles, does it? Should I stop?" He hovered the marker over her skin, glancing at her teasingly. 

"No!" She yelled. "I want to match you!" 

"Alright then," He said, laughing as he went back to his task. "Why don't we listen to some music?" 

"Yeah!" 

"What should we listen to?" 

"Your song, the fire!" 

"The fire?" Harry looked up, confused. "None of my songs have fire in them, bug." 

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "And the fish!" 

Harry thought for a second before it clicked. "Do you mean Adore You?" 

"That one!" 

"You're right," He laughed. "That one does talk about fire. I'll get it, yeah?" 

He set down the marker, picking up his phone. After a minute, she was dancing in her seat to the drums of Adore You. When the chorus came on, she sang "walk through fire for you" while looking at Harry triumphantly. 

"Did you know this song is about mommy?" He said, focusing on his drawing. 

"Really?" She asked incredulously, eyes wide. 

"Really! It's about how much I love her." 

"Yucky," She said, scrunching her nose.

  "Yucky? That's not yucky!" he exclaimed. "It's nice!" 

Stevie hummed, kicking her feet along with the music.

   "It's yucky." 

"Stevie, you're hurting my feelings!" He said, gasping and clutching his chest dramatically. "I can't go on," he sighed, throwing his other arm over his forehead. "I'm sorry, daddy," She giggled, reaching up to pull his arm back to her. "Keep going!" 

He smiled, adding the finishing touches to her drawing.

"And... there we go! One mermaid, just for you." 

She beamed, holding her arm next to his to compare. 

"Daddy... your mermaid has no clothes. She needs some." 

"How about you draw her a shirt?" Harry laughed, handing her the marker. She furrowed her brow, focusing intently on her task. 

"Good job staying in the lines, love!" He said, ignoring the scribbles around the outline. "And you were right, it does tickle." 

"I know!" She laughed, giving the marker back. 

"What now?" 

"The... the heart!" She said, pointing the the small filled in shape on his upper arm. 

"Sure, that's an easy one." 

He proceeded to give her at least ten more matching "tattoos", including a cross, an anchor, a poorly drawn rose, and the green bay packers logo. 

"Daddy!" She gasped. "I have a idea!" 

"What's your idea, princess?" 

"The butterfly! On my belly!" 

"You want a butterfly on your belly?" He asked, lifting his shirt to show her his. "Like this?" 

"Yes!" She clapped. "Like that!" 

They were having the time of their lives, drawing and singing as loud as they could to all of Harry's songs. He loved watching her face every time he finished drawing. Her eyes would light up and she would pull his arm to hers, showing him how they matched. Every time a new song came on she would squeal and kick her legs because "it's my favorite song!" 

They had just finished making silly noises together at the end of "Sunflower" when Harry heard a noise. He froze with the marker on her arm, looking up quickly. 

He reached over to pause the music, holding a finger to his lips when she whined at him. He glanced at the clock, hoping he was just imagining things. You weren't supposed to be home for another hour. But no, that was definitely the sound of the front door opening, followed by your voice calling out a greeting. 

"Mommy!" Stevie shrieked, launching herself off the table. 

"No!" Harry hissed, grabbing her before she could run off. "Stevie, we have to wash this off!" 

He scooped her up, running up the stairs to the bathroom. 

"Harry?" You called out. That was weird. You could have sworn you heard them in the kitchen. "Stevie?" 

"We're- we're upstairs, love!" Harry yelled back. "Just cleaning up!" 

Cleaning what? You wondered, but didn't dwell on it for too long. It had rained recently, so they had probably gotten muddy outside. 

You made your way to the kitchen with the grocery bags, beginning to put everything away. Then you saw the box of markers. You narrowed your eyes, confused when you realized there was no paper around. What had they been drawing on? 

Up in the bathroom, Harry was starting to panic. He had set Stevie up on the counter while he was rubbing at the ink with a washcloth. 

"It's not coming off! Why isn't it coming off? The box said washable!" 

"No, don't take my mermaid!" She cried, pushing his hands away. 

"Stevie, love, I'm sorry, but we can't let mommy see these. Remember? They're secret tattoos." 

"Mommy will like them! They're nice," She pouted. 

"No, I don't think she will," Harry said, laughing nervously. "Maybe if we..." he grabbed the bottle of soap, dumping some onto the cloth. "There we are! Whew," he sighed in relief. "Good thing that worked, or daddy might have been sleeping on the couch tonight." 

Just as he was lifting her off the counter, he heard a knock at the door.

  "Harry? What are you doing in there?" 

He swung open the door, smiling charmingly. 

"Just a little cleanup! We... spilled some yogurt. Right Stevie?" 

She nodded, looking up at you innocently. 

"Ok... why were there markers all over the table, but no paper to use them on?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Uh... we were going to color, but then... the... yogurt explosion..." 

"Oh, I see," you said, still suspicious. "Stevie," you said, kneeling down to be at her eye level. "Is daddy telling the truth?" 

Harry held his breath. Stevie was notoriously bad at lying. Usually, Harry was thankful for this, but right now he could do with a little fib.

"Yes mommy, yogurt went everywhere," she said, eyes going wide as she mimicked an explosion with her hands.

You smiled, straightening up. 

"Well, I'm glad you got it cleaned up. I'm going to go put the rest of the groceries away." 

Harry exhaled as you got to the bottom of the stairs. He quickly lifted Stevie up, spinning her around. 

"Thank you, Stevie. You're such a sweetie," He said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She giggled, wiping her face and wiggling in his arms.

"Let's go see what mom bought us!" He said, bouncing her as they ran downstairs. 

Harry thought he was in the clear. He really did. He had managed to scrub off all traces of the marker, including the scribbles drawn over his own mermaid. Luckily, Stevie was true to her pinky promise and didn't say a word. She told you about how they played outside and what books they read, but said nothing about the makeshift tattoos. She was good at being sneaky.

By the time Stevie was yawning, Harry really though everything was fine. When you went to change her into her pajamas, he settled into the couch to find a movie. 

Everything is fine, he thought. You had no id-

"Harry!" You yelled from down the hall. 

He hopped up from his seat, rushing to Stevie's room. 

"What is it?" 

"Harry," you said, turning towards him slowly. "Why does our daughter have a huge butterfly drawn on her tummy?" 

So close.

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

 Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he���s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

[440mxs-wife]

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Dean x Reader

You were sitting in the library, plunking away on your laptop, searching for a case. After a couple of hours, you still hadn't found anything, but your stomach was growling from hunger. You went to the fridge to survey its contents. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing but Dean's last slice of pie, which you knew better than to touch, Sam's last yogurt and a few slices of moldy bread. Ugh, time to go on a supply run, you thought.

Dean was in the garage, tinkering with the Impala again. You let him know that you were running into town for some groceries, given the current state of the fridge. To your surprise, he asked you to wait while he washed his hands, because he wanted to go with you.

"Seriously, Dean? You never want to go on a grocery run, you just holler and tell me not to forget the pie. What gives?" you asked.

"Nothing 'gives', I'm just tired of being cooped up in the bunker. Besides, it gives me a chance to spend time with my best friend, on the highway, jamming to some tunes," he smirked.

"Fine, let's go," you relented. Best friend. That's how he sees you, but you see him as something more. You've had a crush on Dean for quite some time. It's been that way ever since Bobby sent you to assist the boys on that vampire hunt all those years ago.

Dean Winchester. His sexy green eyes, sharp yet usually stubbled jawline, perfectly kissable lips were what haunted your dreams every night. For you, though, it went beyond the physical. He was smart, kind, strong, tender and had a kick-ass sense of humor. He was highly protective of those most important to him, yourself included.

When you were with him, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room, the only person. Problem was, that feeling was experienced by the countless women from the bar scene who happened to catch his eye. Judging by what walked out of his room the morning after, you knew you didn't measure up. For the moment, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind and focused on buying food for the bunker.

About an hour later, you and Dean returned from the store and hauled everything to the kitchen. Sam joined you shortly thereafter to help put things away. He told you and Dean that Sheriff Donna Hanscum had called while you were out. She asked you to call her back when you got home from getting supplies.

While you were putting things away, you called Donna back, putting her on speakerphone. "Hey there, Sheriff D, what have you got going on up there? How can we help?" you asked.

She went on to explain about crazy things happening in one particular house in a relatively quiet neighborhood. Lights flashing, hearing something scratching within the walls, beds shaking and flying objects.

You looked at Sam and Dean to see what they thought it might be. "We think it might be a poltergeist," you remarked. "We're on our way up to see you and then we can interview some witnesses. Over and out, chickie," you said as you ended the call.

Thirty minutes later and you were in the back seat of the Impala, headed up the highway to see Donna. Every so often, your eyes would wander to Dean as he tapped his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music. Occasionally, his eyes would flick to yours in the rearview mirror, but by that time, you had dropped your gaze.

You had opened your book to start reading, when you heard Dean talking about what he was going to do post-hunt. "Since we'll be in the area, I'm going to head out to that little dive bar on the edge of town. Good music, good brews and hot chicks. Awesome combo, wouldn't you say, Sammy?" he asked.

Sam was so absorbed in his research that he hadn't heard Dean at first, but you had heard him. "Hmm? What? What'd you say, Dean?" he replied.

"Never mind," Dean muttered. His eyes drifted to you in the back seat. He saw you staring out the window, arms folded across your chest, your book open, but forgotten for the moment. For a brief second, Dean thought he saw a tear coursing down your cheek, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. He furrowed his brow to think that you may be upset about something. "You okay back there?" he asked you.

"I'm fine," you responded softly. You replaced your bookmark and snapped your book shut. You returned your attention to the scenery zipping by. After a while, your eyelids drifted closed, your light snores filling the quiet of the back seat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean looked back at you through the rearview mirror. He could tell by the gentle rise and fall of your chest that you had fallen asleep. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed, which he didn't see very often. You were always so busy taking care of things in the bunker for them, in addition to hunting. You barely had any time to yourself, what with research, laundry and keeping the boys well-fed.

When you did get a moment to do what you wanted, you usually ended up falling asleep in your book or to something on Netflix. Then he or Sam would prod you awake long enough for you to drag yourself to your room and fall back to sleep.

He took another look at you in the backseat. Your full, pink lips looked so cute, especially when they got all scrunched up as you research through the lore books. Your honey-and-green eyes seemed to sparkle when you found some obscure fact that helped to crack the case. He glanced down at your strong, yet delicate hands folded across your chest. He imagined what it would feel like to have them running over his body. That particular thought made Dean shift uncomfortably in his seat a little.

The Impala eased into a parking space in front of the Redstone Motel. Dean asked Sam to go get a room, while he tried to wake you up from your peaceful nap. He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. Suddenly, you stirred and as you turned your head, your lips brushed the back of his hand. This small action sent an electric shock to his system at the point of contact. Dean tried again to wake you by gently nudging your shoulder, and your eyelids fluttered open. "Hey," you said as you stretched and gave him a halfway-still-sleepy smile.

Dean chuckled. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Sam's getting us a room, then we'll have to change into our Fed suits to go meet with Donna," he explained. As if on cue, Sam returned to the car and told Dean which room you all would be in.

You got out of the Impala and retrieved your bag from the trunk. "They only had one room left, with two queen beds and a couch," Sam explained as you all walked into the room.

"Oh. I guess I'll take the couch then," you volunteered, a little disappointed at not having your own space. You went into the bathroom to get dressed in your Fed get-up. The outfit consisted of a white, button-down blouse, a navy blue pinstriped pencil skirt and black high heels. You ran your fingers through your hair, shaking it out, trying to add some fluff to it. A swipe of mascara, some lip gloss and you were good to go.

You looked over at Dean, who was having some trouble fixing his tie. "Here, let me help," you said as you took over. A swoop here, a tuck there and you cinched his tie in place around his neck. Being this close to Dean, you could smell his aftershave. It was so intoxicating, that you had to blink several times to keep your focus on fixing his tie. You nervously cleared your throat. "There. All better now," you teased.

Dean reached up with his hands to clasp yours and gently brushed his lips against them. "Thank you," he whispered. As you turned to get your FBI ID badge, Dean couldn't help but think of how sexy you looked, even if it was your Fed threads. Whoa, where did that come from? he silently wondered.

"You're welcome," you mumbled. Blushing furiously, you gave him a quick smile, put your FBI badge in your pocket and headed back out to the Impala. What the hell was that?!? you asked yourself. One minute I'm helping him fix his tie, the next minute he's kissing my hand?? I'm so confused, you inwardly groaned. By the time you had finished your internal monologue, Sam and Dean had returned to the car, and you were on your way to see Donna.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the station, Donna briefed you on what was happening at the house. It was a man and his two children that lived in the house where all of the strange things were occurring. His name was George Anderson, his daughter, Hannah was about 10. The baby of the family, Andrew, was about 7 years old.

You watched the family through the one-way glass. George was sitting on the edge of his chair, while Hannah and Andrew were drawing pictures in the corner. Donna came up behind you as you observed the situation. "What do you think?" she asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.

"Not sure yet," you murmured. "Why don't you let me go in there and talk to them? By myself," you suggested as you locked eyes with Dean. Donna shrugged and agreed, then unlocked the door for you.

You introduced yourself to George, who warmly shook your hand. Hannah immediately jumped up and rushed to her father's side, looking ready to do battle on his behalf. You reached out your hand to her for a handshake, but she ignored it and glared at you before going back to her drawing. Andrew briefly looked up at you with his big, brown eyes and then returned to his crayons.

As you and George talked, it was more of a conversation than an interrogation. You tried to put him at ease by slipping in a couple of jokes. It seemed to work, as he was more willing to talk about what was going on in his house. George even came back with some jokes of his own that made you laugh. It made Dean more agitated, because it looked to him like you were flirting with George. Fortunately, Donna was keeping an eye on Dean, which let you do what you needed to do.

You stood up to leave, then shook George's hand again, and this time Hannah allowed you to shake her hand. Before you made it to the door, you felt a tug on your skirt. You looked down and saw Andrew handing you his drawing. You knelt down to his level and studied the picture he had drawn. It looked like he was telling you about everything the poltergeist was doing in the house.

All of a sudden, you felt a searing pain in your head and a wave of dizziness crashed over you. It almost knocked you over, but you were able to regain your composure. You tried to return the drawing to the young artist, but he pushed it back to you, eyes wide with fear. You nodded at him in understanding, caressing his cheek to soothe the young boy. "Thank you very much, Andrew. I think this will help us so that we can help your family," you said softly. You handed George your business card, and asked him to call you if anything more happened.

George and his children left the station, and you relayed your conversation to Donna and the boys. For some reason, you thought Dean looked a bit annoyed with you about something, but you had no idea what. You all agreed to keep working on the case to try and figure out how to get rid of the poltergeist. On that note, you, Sam and Dean walked back out to the Impala.

As soon as you reached the car, Dean took hold of your arm. "What the hell was going on in that room?" he demanded.

You looked down at his hand on your arm, so he released it. "What do you mean, I was talking to George, trying to figure out what was going on in his house. What did you think I was doing?" you shot back.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe a bit of flirting going on? Laughing and telling jokes, cozying up to the kids. Why don't you just sleep with him and get it over with?" Dean retorted.

"DEAN!!" Sam yelled.

You reached up and slapped Dean across the face. "You jackass. How could you say something like that to me? Your so-called 'best friend'?? I was trying to gain his trust and that of his children. Something of mine that you're coming dangerously close to losing," you snapped. Tears threatening, you turned and stormed back into the station to ask Donna if you could bunk with her tonight.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam demanded. "Why would you say that to her? You know how this works. What would you think if the situation was reversed and she came at you like that?" he asked.

Dean thought about it a minute. "I would think she was....Oh Chuck," he said softly. Dean looked over at his brother, who was smirking. "What, Sam? What?" he snapped.

"I knew it! You like her. You have feelings for her," Sam said in a sing-song voice.

Just then, you and Donna walked out from the station. Dean could see your eyes were all red and puffy, probably from crying. He tried to go over to talk to you, but Donna blocked his progress. "Not now, Dean. Talk to her later," she said forcefully.

"I just want to--" he started.

"I said not now, Dean. I'm going to take her back to your motel and get her bag. She's bunking with me tonight," Donna declared.

"We only have the one key, so we'll follow you and let her in," Dean said softly in defeat. Donna nodded, and you all took off for the motel.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the motel, Sam gave you the key to let yourself in to get your bag. Dean stayed in the car, his forehead leaning on the steering wheel. He was still trying to make sense out of what happened outside of the police station. He wanted so badly to apologize to you for his accusations, that he knew you were only doing your job.

Is Sam right? Do I have feelings for her? he asked himself. He thought back to everything that's happened since the job started. From seeing you asleep in the back seat, your lips brushing his hand when he tried to wake you up. To helping him with his tie, his lips brushing your hands, seeing you in the interview room with George and the kids....to that awful accusation.

Dean looked up when he heard the doors on Donna's cruiser close. At least she's safe for the night, he thought. Sam went into the room, leaving the door open for Dean. He got out of the Impala and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Sam was in the shower by the time Dean came into the room.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was just staring off into space. After Sam got dressed, he sat on the edge of his bed, facing Dean. "Look, Dean. I know you're upset about what happened earlier. Give her some time to cool off, it'll be fine. You'll apologize to her, and you'll go back to being best friends," he explained.

"That's just it, Sam. I don't know if I can go back to being just best friends. I think you were right. I was jealous of her and that guy. And she was so good with those kids, I just know she'd be an incredible mother. I wanted to be George, I want it to be our kids she's so good with," Dean finished.

At that moment, Sam's phone rang, with the display showing Donna was calling. "Hey, Donna, what's going on? Is everything okay?" he asked.

Donna frantically explained that while you and she were talking on the way to her place, that the pain in your head came back. This time, you had a vision of George and the kids. Objects were flying around, and when George tried to run with the kids to the front door, a lamp cord tripped him. He hit his head and was knocked unconscious. You could see the two terrified children crying, huddled together near their father, trying to get him to wake up.

You convinced her to do a drive-by to make sure everything was okay. The closer you got to George's house, the more intense the pain became in your head. That's how you knew something bad was going to happen, unless you took action. When you got there, you bolted out of Donna's cruiser before she could stop you.

"The front door opened for her, then it slammed shut. I tried to go in after her, but it was locked. She's trapped in there with that-that thing, those two babies and their father. Sam, Dean, you have to hurry, please!" she sounded close to tears.

"On our way, Donna," Dean affirmed, already in the car. Sam had his laptop open, reading some information about George's house. "Okay, here it is. The previous owner of the house was a man by the name of Lawrence O'Donnell, who died in 1913. There have been three or four other families that bought the house after he died. They all ended up selling the house when he started to terrorize them," Sam finished.

"Sounds like old Larry didn't want anyone to live in the house with him even after he was gone. So how do we kill it?" Dean asked.

"Salt and burn, just like normal. But we have to hurry. These are different than a run-of-the-mill vengeful spirit. Poltergeists don't care if they have the right person. They'll go after anyone and everyone," Sam finished.

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel as he mashed down on the accelerator. Sam continued to research until he found out where Mr. O'Donnell was buried. Finally he found it, and gave Dean directions on which cemetery to go to.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the house, you found a hiding place for the kids so they would be out of the way. Once that was done, you tended to George's head wound. The sleeve on your overshirt was torn a bit, so you ripped it off for a makeshift bandage. You told George just to stay there, that the kids were safe, but you were going to look around a little.

Your eyes started scanning the area, looking for hidden dangers. More power cords or some sharp object with the potential to fly across the room. You crawled towards the front door to see if you could open it and escape. Before you could put your hand on the knob, a vase came flying at you and you ducked just in time. It broke above your head, showering you with the broken pieces.

You shrank back to your previous position and felt in your back pocket for your phone. You managed to get connected to Donna and push the speakerphone button. But that victory was short-lived, as the phone was yanked out of your hand and went skittering across the floor.

The next thing you knew, you were flying across the room and being held in place on the opposite wall. You tried to move, but it was no use. A figure appeared in front of you, a man dressed in a Victorian-era suit and had a large handlebar mustache. His hands were inching towards you to grab your throat, when flames started to creep up and consume his body. His gut-wrenching screams filled the room, until he was completely gone.

You were no longer held to the wall, so you made your way over to the door to open it and let Donna in. She came rushing in and started to check you for injuries, but you waved her off and told her to check on George.

While the EMTs were assessing George's condition, you called for Hannah and Andrew to come out of hiding. You told them it was all over, and that their daddy was going to be okay. With tears in their eyes, they came running towards you and threw their arms around your neck. You held one in each arm, rubbing up and down their backs and whispering comforting words in their ears. You looked up and happened to catch George's eye, at which time he mouthed the words, "thank you".

The EMTs wheeled George out of the house, while Donna took one child in each hand and led them out to her car. You looked around the room, trying to come to grips with what happened here tonight. Silent tears streaked down your face as you realized just how wrong things could have gone. Among your last words to Dean were that he was a jackass and you had slapped him. If you somehow hadn't made it out alive tonight, you knew he would've blamed himself for all of it.

As if on cue, Dean burst through the front door, with Sam close behind. Dean rushed over to where you were standing, placed his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes. Without a word, he gathered you into his arms and held you close to his chest. It was then that you gave yourself permission to be comforted and sank into his embrace.

Tears flowed freely now, soaking his T-shirt. Dean kept a firm hold on you, whispering soothing words in your ear. He softly apologized over and over for what he'd said earlier outside of the police station. You drew back a little and placed a hand gently on his face where you had slapped him. You rubbed your thumb across his cheek to try and soothe away the hurt. You also hoped he knew that you weren't angry with him anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," you started. "I shouldn't have--" he cut you off.

"Shh, that doesn't matter right now. I'm just glad that you and everyone else is okay," he replied. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked. You nodded. He kept an arm around your waist as he guided you out of the house and over to the car.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Donna took care of things on her end, and the kids were reunited with their father. You all got cleaned up and decided to go to the bar to celebrate another successful hunt. You were gathered around the pool table in the back, with you and Donna playing against Sam and Dean. The first round of drinks went down pretty fast, so you volunteered to go and get the next round.

You gave your drink order to the bartender and paid, leaving a few dollars for his tip. As you stood waiting for your drinks, a man sitting next to you started a conversation. He introduced himself, and you reluctantly did the same.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady," he slurred.

You rolled your eyes at such a lame pick-up line. "I'm here with a group of friends, and really not interested. I just want my drinks, okay?" you explained.

"Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, you and me," he continued, this time stroking a finger down your arm.

"Listen. I tried to be nice about this, but here's the deal. Get your filthy hands off of me, leave me alone, or there's going to be a problem," you seethed. By this time, the bartender had made eye contact with Donna and silently signaled that you may need some help.

Dean came walking over and snaked his arm around your waist. "Hey there, sweetheart, what's taking so long?" he asked as he kissed your temple. The guy who had been hitting on you got up from his barstool and stumbled out into the night, mumbling under his breath.

"Thanks, Dean. I tried to tell that guy I wasn't interested, but he wasn't listening," you explained.

"Eh, all in a day's work," Dean replied. Sam and Donna had also come over to pick up their drinks and take them back to the pool table. For some reason, you and Dean kept hanging out at the bar for a bit.

"You know, you should be careful," you told him.

"About what?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"That stunt you just pulled, pretending to be my boyfriend? You've probably ruined your chances of taking one of these lovely ladies back to the motel with you," you replied.

"There's only one lovely lady I'm interested in taking back to the motel with me," he said huskily. His arm snaked back around your waist, as he traced your jawline with his index finger.

You placed your drink on top of the bar and abruptly broke free of his embrace. Dean called out after you, but you kept running towards the door, out of the bar and into the cool night air. When you got to the Impala, you stopped and leaned up against the driver's side door. You tried to catch your breath, while simultaneously trying to collect your thoughts.

Dean caught up with you and was moving in towards you again, but you put your hands up. "Wait, Dean. Just a minute," you said.

"I don't understand. What just happened back there?" he asked.

"Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one that doesn't understand," you answered. "First, I hear you talking to Sam about picking up chicks in the bar. Next, you kiss my hand after I'm done fixing your tie, then you get upset at how I handled the witnesses. You're killing me with these mixed signals, Dean!" you exclaimed.

On a softer note, you continued. "You and I have been best friends for a very long time. But, Dean I have to tell you something....I'm in love with you," you blurted out. "I love your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your--" Dean cut you off by closing the gap between you and crashing his lips against yours.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Sorry it took me almost too long to figure it out, but I'm so glad I did," Dean replied softly. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, moving hungrily as if your lips were his last meal. Then he grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him, earning him a gasp of surprise from you.

"Dean?" you whispered as his lips trailed a series of kisses all over your neck. "Yeah, darlin'?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you think maybe Sam could stay at Donna's place tonight?" you asked. Dean stepped back to pull out his phone and sent Sam a quick text. "Done. Now where were we?" he grinned as he dipped his head to reclaim your mouth.

[clawsandblood]

4 - “Do you trust me?”

link to ao3

first part on tumblr   previous part on tumblr

Once both men were awake enough, Borna told Steven of his strange encounter last night. Steven’s face grew more and more alarmed as the story progressed.

“You won’t believe this,” he slowly said, “but I also had a weird encounter last night and-” He stopped. “There was this woman, looking kinda how you said yours was looking, and in the end she gave me a huge tip, saying that both me and my friend could use some money.” 

“How huge?” Borna asked, brows furrowing.

Steven stood up, walked over to his jacket and dug out his wallet. “This big,” he said, showing Borna the hundred dollar bill.

“Fuck,” Borna swore under his breath. He took his phone, frantically going through his browsing history until he found a picture of Madam Reid. “Is that her?” he asked Steven, showing him the screen.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

They exchanged looks. “How the fuck did she know we know each other?” Borna asked.

“Oh, shit.” Steven was staring at Borna. “You’ve already got a job interview with her company, right?”

Borna nodded. “Tomorrow. They were in an awful hurry.”

Steven collapsed on the couch. “What if they’re some sort of human trafficking ring?” he asked. “What if they’re with the mafia?”

“I think they won’t do anything after one interview,” Borna said. “Or I could just cancel.”

Steven nodded. “That would probably be the safest, yeah.”

Borna opened his phone, thumb hovering over the number that called him earlier in the morning. He sighed, putting the phone down. “But I’m curious,” he said. “Maybe one interview won’t be that bad.”

“Borna,” Steven pleaded.

“I can just decline afterwards.”

Their eyes were locked in a staring contest.

“If your kidney gets sold on the black market next week I won’t help you, I’ll just say that I told you so.”

Borna’s lips twitched into a smile. “Note taken.”

---

It took some digging through their shared wardrobes to find a presentable pair of trousers and a shirt for Borna to wear to the interview. Steven did have some semi-formal clothes, but Borna somehow felt like most of Steven’s patterned shirts were a touch too vulgar for the occasion.

“How do I look?” he asked, giving a little twirl.

Steven chewed on his lip. “Presentable,” he finally said.

Borna nodded. “I feel like a tuna fish in a can.”

“Meaning?”

“Stuffed, uncomfortable, about to be half-eaten, half-thrown away.”

“Having last minute jitters?” Steven smiled at Borna and clapped him on the back. “You’re gonna go there, snoop a bit during the interview, go home and tell them you’re actually going to Russia.”

Borna snorted. “Sounds good.”

They went to the building where the interview was going to take place together. It was a modern office building, fairly boring and unremarkable. The entrance had plaques of several different companies on the wall, Northwest Holistic Natural Remedies being among them.

“Well,” Steven said. “This is kinda anticlimactic.”

“What did you expect?” Borna asked him.

Steven shrugged. “Something more glamorous. Or completely rundown. I don’t know how human organ traffickers work.”

Borna elbowed him. “They’re not gonna sell my organs,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steven mumbled. He gave Borna one last look-over, fixing his hair a bit. “You’ve got this,” he said and patted his shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Borna walked in, going to the reception desk.

Steven stood for a few moments, looking after his friend, and left. There was no need for him to keep loitering and there were groceries to be bought.

---

Borna found the office that the receptionist directed him to. The doors were slightly open and the plaque on them said “Northwest Holistic Natural Remedies - Madam Reid.” He tentatively knocked.

“Come in,” said a voice.

He entered, closing the doors behind himself. A different lady was sitting behind the desk, looking at him expectantly. There was a sign on her desk that read “Natalie Adams, secretary.” The walls were decorated with various pictures of nature, keeping a cohesive theme. It was terribly bland, yet tasteful.

“Madam is already waiting for you,” she said, gesturing to the doors to the side.

“Thank you,” he said and walked in.

Now that office was a lot different. The furniture was darker, sturdier. Decor was still revolving around nature, but this was darker, feeling more like antiques rather than mass-produced photos printed on canvases. Behind the desk sat Madam Reid, as sharp and poised as the night he met her.

“Hello, Borna,” she said. “Please sit down.”

Borna obeyed, drawing the heavy leather-padded chair. “Good morning,” he said.

Her pronunciation of his name was miles better than what he was used to, though her decision to use his first name rattled him. Maybe she just didn’t want to deal with pronouncing my surname, he thought, suppressing an amused huff.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” she pointed out.

He chuckled awkwardly. “Had another night shift,” he explained. “Those tend to mess with perception of time.”

She nodded. “Understandable.”

“I brought my resume with me in case-” he started, but got silenced by a hand gesture.

“I think both of us know that that’s not why you’re here now,” she said, fixing him with her stare.

“Then what is it?” he asked. He grew hotter in his shirt and dress pants.

She took his hand, unbuttoning the cuff and rolled up the sleeve until the bite mark was fully exposed. “When was it?” she asked, examining the scar. “Three days ago? Four?”

“Four,” he answered. “Are you also a…” He trailed off.

“A lycanthrope, yes.”

“Okay,” he said, still staring at where she was holding his arm.

She rolled the sleeve back up, buttoning it. “We need to keep together,” she said. “Lone wolves don’t survive for too long.”

“Meaning?”

“There’s an organisation that I’m a part of,” she explained. “It connects people like us all over the continent. We could help you out with things.”

His brows furrowed. “What things?”

Madam Reid gave him a look that he’d describe as sarcastic if she was literally anyone else. “Money.”

“I can get by,” he protested. “I’ve got a job, I can pay rent-”

“You work the graveyard shift at the carwash and have to live with a roommate,” Madam interrupted.

Borna swallowed. “How do you know about my roommate?” he asked quietly.

“I met him the same night as you.” She smiled, but it just looked like a beast baring its teeth. “He is a very friendly man. You two spend too much time together, you smell like each other.”

“We smell-?”

She nodded. “It should come to you soon,” she said soothingly. “You’ll get used to it.”

Borna nodded, staring at his own hands, trying to process all the given information.

“Borna?”

He looked up.

Madam Reid was looking at him, features soft and relaxed. For the first time she didn’t look like she was about to swallow him whole, though her eyes stayed the same. “Do you trust me?” she asked gently.

“I don’t know,” he replied softly. “I think you’ve been truthful, but I don’t think I should trust you just yet.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Smart,” she commented. “Not the smartest, but admirable approach.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ve got a proposition,” she said, leaning forward again. “On Friday we’ve got a meeting. I’ll have Natalie email you details and you can come see how things work for yourself. How does that sound?”

He took a moment to consider her offer. “Okay,” he conceded. “Maybe I’ll come.”

“That’s all I ask for.”

He slowly started getting up.

“And Borna?”

He looked at her.

“I don’t think I need to tell you to come by yourself, right?”

He shook his head. “You don’t.”

“Good.” She also got up, offering him a hand. “Hopefully we’ll see each other soon,” she said.

He just nodded wordlessly.

“Goodbye,” she said and then he was already through the door. The secretary gave him a friendly smile and a goodbye of her own as he exited the office.

---

“How was it?” Steven asked him when he got outside.

Borna took a deep breath. “She’s also, uh-” he gestured at the bite mark on his arm. “She offered help. She knew we live together because we smell like each other.”

“Wait, what?” Steven was staring at him, nose wrinkled, and mouth falling open. “We smell like each other?”

“Yeah, I know.” Borna sighed. “She said I should be able to… detect these things soon too.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.”

They stood in contemplative silence for a few moments.

“We should go home,” Borna said and Steven nodded. He had his arms occupied with bags from the grocery store and he handed over one to Borna, who automatically took it.

---

He was working the night shift again. Again, he couldn’t understand why would a carwash service need to be open at such unholy hours. Again, he was reminded that the wealthy, the weird and the criminals were also paying customers.

So far he had to deal with only a few people that seemed a bit too inebriated to be anywhere near car keys. He did have to watch himself physically way more than usual, but the drunk were usually quite generous tippers and that night didn’t prove any different.

He had a long period of nothing, where he almost nodded off several, but the noise from the neighbouring gas station managed to keep him up. Then, just a one hour before the end, a car drove in.

---

Dorian’s phone rang. He groaned, looking at the caller’s ID. Three poop emojis were displayed on the screen. He groaned again, louder, then finally accepted the call.

“Hi, Gary,” he said. For a few moments he was quiet, listening intently. “Fuck,” he finally said. “A feral one?”

He got up from the couch and turned off the TV, which was showing some shitty horror flick. He sandwiched the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he started pulling on his pants.

“Yeah, give me ten min, I’ll be there. Bye.”

He disconnected the call, putting the phone down. He dressed up, sturdy, warm, practical clothes, and left the flat, remembering at the last moment to take his phone and wallet.

He rushed downstairs and walked briskly to the main street. A car was already waiting for him. 

“Move it,” Gary said, poking his head through the window.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dorian grumbled breathlessly. He sat down on the passenger’s side, fastening the seatbelt. The moment he was done the car peeled off the curb, making Dorian swear quietly, which in turn made Gary cackle.

The car sped through the streets, out of town to the forest road.

“Do you know where it’s supposed to be?” Dorian asked.

“Somewhere in the west,” Gary answered. “Near one farm, the owners complained about the cattle being killed.”

“Not regular wolves?” 

Gary shook his head. “The tracks didn’t fit, plus there’s been rumors of Bigfoot in the woods.”

Dorian snorted. “Of course that’s what they say.”

Gary shrugged. “Not that far fetched in comparison to the truth,” he said.

Dorian sighed. “Fair point.” He started rifling through his pockets for the cigarettes. “Sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life.”

“Yeah,” Gary said absent-mindedly. Then he noticed the cigarette pack in Dorian’s hand. “Hey, fuck off with that,” he grumbled. “No smoking in my car.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “So sensitive.”

Gary glanced at him with a poisonous look. “Don’t you dare,” he growled.

“I can open the window.”

Gary puffed out an angry breath. “You won’t you-” He pawed at Dorian, trying to take away his cigarettes, when something collided with the car loudly, making Gary swerve and brake.

“Fuck!”

They stopped abruptly and jumped out of the car. There was a dark figure lying on the side of the road, whining loudly.

Gary glared at Dorian, who awkwardly stuffed his hands into his pockets. They tentatively approached the lump. Coming closer, it was visible that it was a sort of a wolf, only larger and as much as the moonlight permitted to see, with a different coat colouring.

It started snarling as they approached.

“I think we found our feral wolf,” Dorian said quietly and squatted down, facing the creature. Gary stayed a bit behind him, standing.

“We got you pretty hard, didn’t we?” Dorian asked quietly.

The wolf growled in response.

“I know, I know,” Dorian said soothingly. He got up and started taking off his jacket.

Gary groaned. “I’ll get the stuff from the car,” he said and left.

Once Dorian stripped off all his clothes he squatted down, tilting his face towards moonlight and began to change. His body grew, transforming into a lupine form, growing thick fur all over.

He slowly walked over to the hurt wolf, sniffing softly. The wolf whiled quietly, but let him close. Dorian carefully nuzzled the other one and gave the bloodied fur a few careful licks. Finally, he settled, laying down next to the hurt wolf.

Gary sighed. He had thick gloves on and a gun in his hands. “Dorian,” he said disapprovingly.

Dorian looked at him and just gave the wolf another gentle lick.

Cocking the gun, Gary took aim and fired.

With one last whine, the wounded wolf died.

Dorian slowly got up, nudging the wolf with his head, giving it a few small, affectionate licks, before leaving it, walking over to Gary.

“You know I don’t like shooting when you’re right there,” Gary said.

Dorian in between transformed back to human, panting slightly from the effort.

“He was so scared,” Dorian said. “And hurting.”

“We did hit him with a car,” Gary pointed out.

Dorian shook his head. “It was something from before,” he said. “We should take a look at the body before we get rid of it.”

“I’m not hauling a huge wolf back to the city for you to play a doctor,” Gary said. He went back to the car, putting the gun away. “Come help me get the covering, I don’t want blood all over my car.”

Dorian sighed and finished dressing up. Gary had a waterproof tarp in his trunk and they used it to protect the interior of the car before they dragged the cadaver into it. They had to put it on the backseats, the trunk of the car being too small to fit a grown werewolf.

After some more driving they found a muddy road through the forest. Gary parked in the undergrowth and they spent the better part of the night digging a large and deep enough hole.

Dorian wiped sweat off his forehead. “We deserve a bonus for all this,” he groaned.

Gary glared at him. “Like you’re doing that much,” he grumbled.

They were hauling the body out of the car now, Dorian desperately trying to carry an equal share, but he was mostly getting covered in blood seeping from the plastic while Gary was supporting most of its weight.

“Not all of us spend all the time in the gym,” Dorian bit back.

They finally hauled it to the grave and rolled out of the tarp, pushing it in.

“You put the tarp in, I’ll take care of this,” Gary said and started pushing the dirt onto the dead werewolf. Dorian nodded and started folding the plastic, trying not to get blood everywhere.

They were finished soon, getting back in the car. Dorian had the bloody tarp resting in his lap, clothes almost equally as dirty.

“You look like you showered in blood,” Gary said after a while. They were still driving through the forest.

“I kinda did,” Dorian replied.

“My car must look like shit.”

Dorian shrugged. “It’s just some mud.”

Gary huffed. “And blood too.”

“It’s just some bloody mud.”

---

The car was covered in more or less fresh mud, with a bump in the front that looked suspiciously bloody. Borna approached the driver’s window, squinting at the bright headlights.

“Good evening,” he said automatically.

“Do you guys have anything extra for mud?” the driver said.

Borna barely heard him, because in the passenger’s seat was an unmistakable figure.

Fucking hell, why Dorian covered in blood?!

Alarm must had been written on his face, because the driver laughed awkwardly. “We hit a wolf,” he explained. “Hauling one of those beasts off the road is a nasty business.”

Dorian met Borna’s eyes and quickly looked away.

“I see,” Borna said. “I could clean the dirt manually but it would take longer and cost more.” He tried not to stare at Dorian, who was very stubbornly pretending not to see him.

“Eh, I’ll just take the basic automated wash,” the driver said.

Borna nodded. “Okay.” He directed the car where to go, turning on the wash cycle. The overwhelming smell of the detergent finally overlaid the stench of blood, but Dorian’s blood-soaked image still danced in front of his eyes. Once the car was clean the driver paid, leaving a small tip and left. The entire time Dorian pointedly avoided Borna’s eyes.

Once they were gone from the station, Borna took his phone out, opening the text messages.

“what the fuck was all that??” he typed out, sending the message to Dorian. He leaned back on the wall, waiting for the response and staring at the clock.

[maple-writes]

[Image ID: Banner image reading: The City of Eventide, Chapter 31, Maple-writes. End ID]

I can’t think of anything to say here so hope your day’s going well :)

###

Time blurred like a train derailed, cars all folding and crumpling in on each other. Waking up just to fall asleep again, and again, and trying to talk to Ginger and trying to keep up with what she was saying, and trying to kill her, and crying, and screaming, and I didn’t know what day it was anymore. How many days since I got there. How long I’d been there. Ginger said she’d been keeping Striker updated but I hadn’t been able to stay awake enough to talk to him myself yet. Not yet.

           Days passed, weeks passed maybe. Ginger never left my side for more than a moment, watching, waiting just in case something went wrong. Just in case I couldn’t, didn’t notice my thoughts spiraling.

           I drew blood once, teeth and claws sinking into Ginger’s shoulder from behind, snarling, snarling, swearing to kill her where she stood. To kill her and shred her body into dozens of mutilated pieces. She’d had to pin me to the ground, pin me and talk me into straightening out, slowing down my thoughts all with cold red seeping through the yarn of her sweater.

           I drew blood again, a scratch down her back and another across her cheek. Again, swiped across her leg before she could jump back out of the way. Again, probably, probably again even if I couldn’t tell if it was real or only something I’d thought about.

           Every time Ginger never faltered. She’d confront me with a firm tone and commanding stature, step by step telling me what to do. Easing myself back to where I had to be. Talking to me, working with me for sometimes hours and hours. She’d coax me, carry me if she had to, back somewhere soft, somewhere comfortable and I’d sleep. I’d sleep again and again and again.

           Charlotte would come, every now and then. Ginger told me she came once a week, once a week with groceries and to check on us. I suspected she was checking on Ginger. Checking on her to make sure I hadn’t killed her and escaped.

           One time she brought me a little cake for my birthday at Striker’s request. Lemon with vanilla icing with a card wishing me well and promising we’d do something fun next year.

           Ginger put on movies for me and helped with everything when I could barely keep my eyes open, and she somehow managed to still have something gentle to say. Even when I lay on the floor, crying and shaking and begging her to give up, to give up on me and kill me already, kill me instead of trying and trying in vain to help me.

“I’m not going to do that,” She’d said, taking her hands off my shoulders where she’d held me down. “Not again.”

I choked on my own tears, lungs sore with every breath and body leaden. My head ached, my muscles ached, I could barely raise my own head. “Why?” My voice, my pathetic voice, it came out as a whine. “I can’t, I can’t do this. I can’t. It’s, there’s…” Cirrus should have let me die. He should have left me there, left me in the rain and the wind on the soaked dead grass. It’d been days. Days. Days and days and weeks and I… I…

Ginger eased her arms under mine, lifting me off the floor damp with my own sweat, my own tears and saliva and blood. My head lolled forward and I didn’t have the strength to try and fight her. Not anymore. Not again and again and again. I barely kept my eyes open all the way, lids drooping and breath coming shallow. She laid me down on the couch and did her best to wipe some of the grime from my face with a spare tissue.

“Please, just, just,” I cried, struggling between gasps. “I can’t, I, I don’t, I don’t want to, to hurt anyone.” I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes as my face twisted, wrenching. My lungs burned, sharp, painful, painful dead center. “Kill me. Just kill me.”

How many times? How many times had I hurt her? Tried to kill her, tried to tear her apart since Cirrus dropped me off. How many more, more times would I try before one time, before I succeeded just that one time. It only took once. Once. Once. Would it ever be safe? Ever be safe for me to leave here, to be on my own? No. No, not when I was, not when I was this. This. There was nothing. Nothing anyone could do. Nothing Ginger could do to help me. So why keep me alive? Why not put me down like the violent animal I was?

Ginger eased herself to sit on the end of the couch, nudging my legs out of the way. “It’s hard, Asher, I know it is.” She leaned back and rested against the back of the couch with rounded shoulders. “About fifty years ago, I woke up in a ditch by some middle of nowhere road with knife in my back and no idea who I was or how I got there. Do you know what I did after that?”

I only watched her, eyes burning and nothing moving the way it should inside my head. Nothing working the way it should inside my lungs. Nothing worked anymore.

“I found a house where a young couple lived, and I killed them both for their blood. They had an infant that I left for dead.” She kept her voice low, private, and her eyes lower. “Then I did it again, and again, until I was killing when I wasn’t even hungry. I killed, I tortured innocents, drawing out their deaths for nothing more than my own satisfaction.” Ginger paused, letting her eyes close a little longer before going on. “I was only caught when I fell for a trap laid out by police and local exorcists hired to stop me. No one knew what to do with me, there hadn’t been a vampire anywhere near the area for almost a century and I would hurt anyone who got close enough. I didn’t know why I did it, but I did.” She paused again, glancing down at me, as if checking to see I was still even awake. “An exorcist, the one who’d just founded Eventide College a couple years earlier, he heard about my case. He took me to Eventide, and kept me there, working with me, for years. It took years for him to help me figure myself out but he never gave up on me, even when I failed and hurt him, or even his daughter Cynthia.”

The couch creaked, woody and soft as she stood again and reached for the blanket folded up on the backrest. The most I could do was turn my head, weakly watching as she opened it up with a gentle shake to unfurl the fabric. She draped it over me, tucking me in warm and snug.

“So I know, it’s hard. It’s hard.” Ginger spoke soft, loose strands of hair falling in front of her face as she hovered over mine. “But I’m not going to give up on you again now that we have this second chance Asher.”

She brushed still-sticky, still sweat-damped hair back from my face with time-worn gloves before standing up straight again. I didn’t know what to say, couldn’t push the words out even if I knew.

“Get some rest, tomorrow’s a new day.”

#

More time, more days, more weeks, and maybe she was right. I slept less, staying awake long enough to finish the old movies Ginger dug out from Charlotte’s collection. I needed her help less and less and the days stopped blending quite as much by the time fall mushrooms popped up around the tree trunks outside.

           The days wavered colder one day then warm the next in the fickle way that fall always seemed to proceed. Rain tatted against the roof, tapping against the windows more often than not with sunny days growing scarcer and scarcer.

           The sun shone warm through the trees, probably one of the last few days like this before the seasons changed in full. Sitting on the porch, the air was still cool and fresh and damp where the warm sunrays hid behind tree’s shade.

           Ginger slid the door open and stepped out beside me, offering a mug of warm tea. She smiled when I took it with a quiet thanks, settling herself down on one of the other wooden chairs with her laptop in hand. Lately she’d been able to get more work done now that I was starting to feel a little better, could keep myself together a little more.

           The wind shifted and I raised my head from my drink. Faint wingbeats drifted through the trees, larger than any of the little songbirds and jays that flitted between the branches. They grew louder, stirring the surface of the lake before Cirrus dropped into sight. Sunlight reflected bright off the white feathers of his head as he shook himself out, folding gull’s wings snug against his sides.

           He ducked under some overhanging branches, slipping towards us under the dappled shade. I set my cup on the little table and braced against the chair to push myself up to my feet. With Ginger’s nod I stumbled down the few steps from the porch to the springy ground and met Cirrus with my arms draped around his neck. I buried my face in his feathers and bit back unexpected tears. How long had it been? How long?

           Cirrus laughed, deep and rumbling where I pressed against him. “Look who can walk all by himself now.” He purred, eyes closed and content. “How are you feeling?”

           I drew back from his side with a sigh. “I’m… Better than before.” That was honest enough.

           “No shit.” Cirrus nudged me back towards the cabin.

           He led the way back to the porch and tentatively stepped up onto the wood, testing it under his weight. It creaked a little on the stairs but it held and he settled down against the side of the cabin. I grabbed my tea and sat with him, leaning back against his side. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. We glanced at each other as the quiet stretched on, filled by the gentle breeze in the trees.

           Cirrus stretched out his legs and I stole a look at what was left of his wound. Still red and fresh, it snaked along the side where his forearm would have been. No doubt it would end up scaring. I sighed, dropping my shoulders and staring down into my drink.

           “Hey,” I swallowed against the guilt rising under my ribs. “I’m sorry for, for everything.”

           His tail thumped against the wood in cat-like twitches, thought glazing over his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” He lifted his head, blinking. “You know, I think this might be the longest we’ve been apart.”

           Was it? I took a long drink of my tea, already halfway cold. It was wasn’t it? I’d hardly noticed, too wrapped up in trying to get through one day after another. I wonder if he felt the same. It must be strange, to be back at home all the sudden.

           I smiled, tired and weak. “How are you settling back in?”

           Cirrus rolled his eyes with an overdramatic sigh, resting his head on his crossed wrists. “My sister, you remember her? With the dark feathers?” He waited for my nod, even though she still didn’t seem real, like I’d only met her in a dream. “She’s taken my place as eldest child since I’d been gone. More than likely I’ll be no more than a prince the rest of my life.” He grumbled, but his expression said otherwise. “Probably for the best. Oh, and everyone wants to talk to me all the time about the same damn things. My sisters, relatives, advisors, even someone visiting from another kingdom. It’s tiring.” He huffed. “Then there’s history to catch up on, new faces to learn…”

           He kept going, droning on and on about his sisters, his mother, court drama, and more and more that started to go over my head. I just listened, nestled against his feathers and squinting in the sunlight. Eventually I let my eyes slide closed, lulled to sleep by the warmth and the chatter. If he noticed that I’d stopped paying attention he didn’t act on it, his voice fading into the background of sleep.

           He must have left before I woke up, opening my eyes to Gingers careful nudge as the sun retired behind the trees.

#

Cirrus visited a few more times before the weather turned, him being the only one Ginger considered resistant enough against any influence I might try and extend. Rain started to constantly, turning to snow on a few lucky days. The air grew cold and damp and Charlotte brought warmer clothes and blankets on one of her visits. Each day was shorter than the last, the sun setting earlier and earlier and giving way to heavy dark outside.

On clear nights Ginger sometimes took me outside to lay on the lake shore and watch the stars. She’d point out constellations she knew, telling me what she’d heard of the stories behind each until I got too cold.

           Frost grew every morning on windowsills and fallen logs, cold and delicate. The lake froze over and Ginger convinced me to try skating on it once it was thick enough, but it didn’t last long before I was sore with bruises from falling a few too many times.

           I stayed awake all day now, long enough to start getting bored. Ginger got Charlotte to bring some books for me to study from and started working me more on ways to keep myself safe. To notice when I needed to withdraw for a while, to help myself stay focused when everything started to go wrong. Gradually it got easier, more manageable, more doable. I could stay awake long enough to talk to Striker and Ember and Kyra on the phone and through Ginger’s laptop, though I never really had anything new to tell them. Nothing new really happened stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.

           As the holidays drew near Striker said he was almost cleared to go back to work, and he and Kyra spent more and more time together. He’d even talked Ember into studying to get her GED and taking classes online. It wasn’t the same though, not being home with them as December came and went. Ginger did her best but even then I couldn’t help but feel lonely. It was only the two of us after all, and as much as I was starting to enjoy watching movies and playing games with her, I’d never been away from home nearly this long before.

           The new year brought colder weather yet in the forest outside, but inside stayed warm and dry by the cabin’s wood-burning fireplace. It had been weeks now, maybe more like a month since I’d last tried to hurt her, gradually starting to catch myself feeling off before anything happened. Before it was too late and she had to talk me down. It’d been weeks since she last had to do that for me.

           Some days a seagull would land on the windowsill just long enough to tap the glass with his beak and leave a trinket. Sometimes a seashell, sometimes a worn glass fragment, once a little mitten I could only hope wasn’t stolen from some helpless child.

           Other days passed slowly, stuck inside when it was cold and raining. Ginger would put on movies and we would half watch them as she showed me how to knit, how to embroider, laughing at me whenever I stabbed myself in the hand with the needle. As much as I couldn’t see myself keeping up with either, it was nice to have something to do and an uneven scarf to show for it.

           Only once bright green buds grew on bushes and shrubs did Ginger start talking about letting me go home. She spoke to Striker without me, saying she wanted to judge how ready he was to have me back, how much better he was really feeling. A week later, she said we could go in a few days and she helped me pack up whatever I wanted to take back home.

#

Charlotte picked us up on a sunny day in March, taking in the sunshine sparkling off the lake as we loaded into her car. The two of them took the front and I settled into the back. Nerves prickled up and down my skin, tight around my ribs as the trees passed by outside. It had been months now, all of fall and winter since I’d been home. Months. I swallowed, looking down and wringing my hands together in my lap. A lot could happen in that long. What was I going to say? To Striker? Ember? Kyra? Anyone? I leaned back, sinking into the cushion of Charlotte’s car. Would, would they really be happy to see me again in person after the last time?

           Ginger and Charlotte spoke quietly with each other at the front, discussing something to do with an upcoming project at the college. The radio played low, soft under their voices and the rumble of the tires on the worn forest road. It should have been normal, it should have been comfortable, but I couldn’t shake the stiffness from my back or the tension in my stomach. It only got worse as the firs thinned out, giving way to the scattered houses, then buildings, then streets and shops and Eventide.

           We turned down my street and I had to remind myself to keep breathing as my lungs cinched. The house still stood as if nothing had happened, as if I was just coming back from a day away instead of months in the woods.

           Charlotte parked the car and cut the engine, plunging us into silence as nobody moved. No one made any move to open the doors, to drag me out onto the sidewalk, nothing. Ginger just turned around in her seat with a little smile and a nod of her head.

           “Do you need a minute?” I nodded, and she turned back around. “Take a sec then, and I’ll go in with you.”

           I couldn’t look away from the house out the window, heart hammering against the feeble wall of my chest. Striker knew I was coming. I’d overheard Ginger tell him that much. But, but… I shuddered, the ghost of wet skin in my hands, of wind whipping through my hair, of holding Striker out, of hurting Kyra, of the words I said to him, to all of them.

           “You know,” Ginger gently broke my thinking. “He’s probably just as jittery as you are.”

           Maybe. Maybe she was right, but it didn’t make it any easier.

           She smiled again, reaching for her door handle. “I think we should get out there now, before you can get to imagining worst-case scenarios.”

           I sighed, but didn’t argue as she got out of the car. I followed her out, pushing the door open with a shaky arm and closing it too lightly. She led the way up to the front door, waiting for me to catch up. My legs trembled and I could barely hear anything besides my own heartbeat drumming against my inner ears, hammering fearful against my chest. The last time Striker saw me, last time he saw me in person I was covered in blood with a hand around his throat and cruelty on my lips. Was that how he remembered me now? No different than Vena?

Ginger set a gloved hand on my shoulder, gently taking back my attention. She waited until I gave a tiny nod before knocking on the front door. The sound rang wooden and solid between us. I swallowed, soft footsteps growing nearer. They paused on the other side of the door. One second, another, another, another, until the handle clicked and the door swung open.

Striker. He stood in the doorway, frozen, unmoving, staring. Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, like he didn’t know whether or not to believe I was really here. My throat closed. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to tell him? Was there anything I could? His outline blurred as tears welled up, but they didn’t get the chance to fall before Striker pulled me close and wrapped his arms tight around my shoulders.

He all but crushed my ribs as I cried into his shirt. It was so warm, so, so familiar. So real. He was really here, really alive. I could feel his breath faulter, shallow and shaky and deliberate and alive.

“I,” I mumbled the word, muffled by Striker’s clothes. “I’m so sorry, I, I, I’m sorry.” I hurt him, I hurt him and scared him and tried to kill him and he was still here, still holding me like nothing happened. Like he still loved me.

Striker ran a hand through my hair, soft and gentle. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He took a breath, sharp and shaking. “You’re safe. I, I…” His words caught in his throat and when he pulled away he drew the back of his sleeve over his eyes.

I couldn’t think of anything to say, standing, staring in the doorway as his outline blurred again. Tears ran warm and wet down my cheeks. Striker didn’t seem to know either, watching me as he tried in vain not to cry.

It was Ginger who finally broke the silence. “How about we go inside? Is that alright?”

Striker nodded and stepped away from the door to let us in. For a second, I didn’t move, frozen in the doorframe until I felt Ginger’s gentle hand on my back. I shuffled in, almost tripping over my own shaking legs as I kicked off my shoes. It didn’t feel real, didn’t feel right, taking them off like I was supposed to be here, like I was going to stay here any longer than a moment but I was. I was home.

The floor creaked and the clock in the hall tick-toked softly as I drifted into the house, brought to the living room by Striker’s quiet guidance. Throat tight and aching, I didn’t know what to say, even when he asked if I wanted anything, a snack, some water, some tea… Ginger ended up answering for me, suggesting something warm, and Striker slipped away to the kitchen.

I sat on one of the couches, sinking deep into the familiar cushions. Ginger did the same on the opposite armchair. She caught my eye and gave me an encouraging smile.

“Nervous still?” She paused as I nodded. “That’s understandable. You’re doing well though Asher. I wouldn’t have brought you here if didn’t think you were okay.” She crossed one leg over the other and set her purse on the floor beside the chair. “I’ve asked for your sister and any friends to give you some space for the first little while, as to not be too overwhelming all at once.”

Some of the tension in my shoulders eased, and I leaned back just a little. “Thanks.” After seeing no one but her and occasionally Cirrus in the woods, I didn’t think I could handle coming face to face with everyone at once.

Striker came back with a warm mug and almost cautiously handed it to me, hesitating just a little, as if he wasn’t sure he was supposed to, wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I took it just as careful, holding it between my hands and melting with the warmth against my palms. The tea bag still half-floated in the hot water, deep colour staining the hot water a deep gold. He sat down beside me on the couch and neither of us said anything. Neither of us knew what to say.

So Ginger broke the silence for us yet again. “If it’s alright with the both of you, I’d like to stay here with you a few days. I’m confident everything will be fine but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. I’ll try and stay out of your way as much as I can.”

Striker nodded, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. “Sure, that’s, that’s fine. It might be good in case—” His eyes flicked to me and he cut himself off.

I ducked my head, shame and guilt burning deep and heavy in my chest. Was he scared? Scared of me? He had every right to be after all.

“Wonderful.” Ginger smiled. “I have some work to do on my computer, so I may end up spending most of my time tucked away but I’ll be here.” She uncrossed her legs just to cross them the other way, watching the both of us as thoughts seemed to gather behind her eyes. “I suppose now is as good a time as any. Striker, it’s alright if you’re not as comfortable as you’d like to be yet. If Asher does anything that makes you nervous, or scared, or anything you can tell him to give you space, alright? It might not be easy, but try and look after yourself too.”

Striker nodded along, dropping his eyes to the floor. Was this what he and Ginger had talked about when she called, requesting I wait out of earshot?

Ginger seemed satisfied, flashing a gentle smile. “Good. Take it easy, both of you.” She pushed out of the chair and leaned over to grab her purse from the floor. “I’ll give you guys some time to catch up.”

She slipped out of the room into the hall, footsteps fading as she disappeared. Quiet replaced her presence, thick and unfamiliar. I gripped my mug in my hands and stared down at my reflection in the darkened tea. It broke wherever the tea bag bobbed to the surface, drifting slowly up and down. Was Striker scared of me right now? Was he thinking about the last time we were this close to each other, close enough for me to hurt him?

Striker pushed his hair back and turned to look my way. “How are you feeling?”

Good question. “I don’t know.” I mumbled. “I’m alright. I mean, I don’t know what to say.”

He cracked a smile, tired and real. “Me too.” He paused, watching me, just watching, just like I remembered. “To be honest, I’m not sure what to do now.”

Slowly, I found myself matching his smile, nerves thawing a little more with each passing moment. Neither of us spoke as I took my first sip of tea. It ran warm down my throat, helping to melt the rest of the tension from deep inside.

“Ember’s staying with Kyra for a bit.” Striker said. “For a few days anyway.”  

I nodded. Probably for the best to stay separated until I’d settled in a little bit more. A while longer, and we settled back into quiet. What was there to say anyway? I drank my tea and Striker turned on the TV to some fluff channel, soft enough to barely count as audible. Eventually the tea was gone and I leaned forward to set the empty mug on the coffee table with a gentle clunk.

I paused, glancing back at Striker as I sat hunched over in front of the table. He did the same and I thought I noticed hints of tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Come here,” he opened his arms, just enough to invite.

My vision swam and I nestled myself up against his side. He leaned against me, curling his arm around me, holding me snug. Snug and safe and warm. I rested my head against his sleeve, breath shaking as I tried not to cry again. This was Striker, he was here, he was right here. Real and solid and familiar…

“I missed you.” Striker mumbled, low and rumbling and comfortable. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

I swallowed, blinking out tears that ran quiet down my face. He was alive. I was just glad he was alive. Alive and here and safe and sound. I thought I’d killed him. I opened my mouth to tell him but stopped myself short. He didn’t need that, didn’t need to be reminded of what he probably remembered all too well already. Striker didn’t say anything more, only held me tighter. Neither of us paid much attention to whatever show was on as we just sat quietly, snuggled up on the couch as afternoon slipped to evening and it started to feel more like I was really home. At least for now. At least if everything went right.

[ilistenedin]

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Soda cans

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubblegum

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Smart but lazy.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Soda cans

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tomboy

7. earbuds or headphones?

No preference

8. movies or tv shows?

Movies

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Fresh cut grass or when it’s about to rain

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Basketball in elementary, dodgeball in middle, and sitting in high school

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Nothing

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I don’t have one

13. lanyard or key ring?

Both

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

I don’t think I have a favorite candy tbh. I don’t do sweets often. Starburst are alright?

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

La Casa de los Espíritus

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Knees apart, ankles crossed

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Birkenstock’s, baby

18. ideal weather?

If staying indoors; rainy and gloomy and cold.

If going out; cold with lots of clouds where the sun occasionally peeks thru

19. sleeping position?

On stomach, hugging pillow, one leg hiked up

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Lately, in my notes app.

21. obsession from childhood?

Sharks. Horror. Cats.

22. role model?

I don’t really have one. But I do hold a special place in my heart for Gerard Way.

23. strange habits?

I don’t think I have any strange habits. I’m pretty boring.

24. favorite crystal?

Amerhysts, opal, moonstone

25. first song you remember hearing?

I have bad memory

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Stay indoors lol

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Just be outside. Maybe go chill in a park and drink some tea and smoke a cigarette/joint

28. five songs to describe you?

I don’t have the brain capacity for that rn.

29. best way to bond with you?

Interests. Asking questions.

30. places that you find sacred?

Book stores.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

I don’t lol

32. top five favorite vines?

Oh god I don’t know lol. I love the “Adam!” one. “Two dudes chilling in a hot tub..” the one where the girl is about to play Mozart and the keyboard is on the wrong mode. And I can’t think of any other ones rn

33. most used phrase in your phone?

Probably lol

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Oreilly auto parts for sure.

35. average time you fall asleep?

It varies way too much

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Probably the forever alone dude

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Duffel bag

38. lemonade or tea?

Tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Ummm weird is a choice of word I guess. My sophomore year some poor girls home made sex video w her bf got leaked and it was pretty fucking bad.

41. last person you texted?

Lauryn

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Pants

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

I am incapable of choosing. I’m a slut for all of them.

44. favorite scent for soap?

I like mint, citrus, patchouli, and lavender

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Tie between sci-fi and fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Sports bra and boxers

47. favorite type of cheese?

It’s impossible for me to choose. I’ve never met a cheese I didn’t like.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

My friends used to call me Apple in HS so I guess an apple

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

None

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

I laugh hard too often

51. current stresses?

My life as a whole

52. favorite font?

Times new Roman

53. what is the current state of your hands?

I’ve stopped biting my nails and instead I file them (I wonder how long that’ll last) and they are a bit dry cause of the changing of seasons; this always happens. They get like, cracked and peely. It’s gross, don’t judge.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

How to drive stick shift. I was a valet.

55. favorite fairy tale?

I don’t think I have one tbh

56. favorite tradition?

Every year for my grandmothers birthday and death anniversary we go out to this famous church that over looks the Miami Bay Area and we throw sunflowers into the ocean for her. I’m not religious or anything, but the church location is great and it’s extremely important in my culture (Cuban).

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

I haven’t overcome shit

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I don’t think I have any talents per se. I used to drum. I have been told I can sing. I like to write. I doodle.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Sorry, can’t help it, I’m gay”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Horror

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Brain too tired to think of anything

62. seven characters you relate to?

I’m too tired to think lol

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Bad Bunny’s discography.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Lol. Rotten dot com

65. any permanent scars?

One on my knee.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Peonies and roses and pansies

67. good luck charms?

I have un azabache on my wrist

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Don’t like cucumbers or raw carrots. Oh and recently I tried pickles that have been pickled in moonshine. Fucking no.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Head empty

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

My patterns in my love life 😁

72. worst subject?

Math for sure

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Idk. I will literally put an egg on everything.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

8

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

No idea

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Mashed probably

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Succulent

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Publix has decent sushi

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

I don’t have a school I’d anymore, but it was pretty fucking bad. But my license one is also pretty fucking bad.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Aren’t they the same? I call them cocuyos

82. pc or console?

Console

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

[kangtaebins]

Weird Asks That Say A Lot

I said I was going to just answer all of these bc of boredom,, and so here I am

1. Coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? Teacups are aesthetically pleasing idc what anyone says

2. Chocolate bars or lollipops? Lollipops

3. Bubblegum or cotton candy? Cotton candy supremacy

4. How did your elementary school teachers describe you? I was told that I was a leader a lot, and was told that I was very intelligent. Ah yes, I suffered from gifted kid burn out in high school-

5. Do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? Look, plastic cups are the best. Specifically the ones with the lids and reusable straws

6. Pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? It truly depends on the day bc some days I would say goth and other days I’d say grunge, but most days- pastel

7. Earbuds or headphones? Earbuds

8. Movies or TV shows? TV shows bc- idk actually I’m just not a movie person

9. Favorite smell in the summer? I have a weird obsession with the smell of cheap sunscreen and I have no clue why

10. Game you were best at in p.e.? I hated gym in high school and rarely participated despite the teacher being irritated with me (truly she gave up after a few months bc I really did not care at all) HOWEVER- I went to town in volleyball and still enjoy playing volleyball v much

11. What do you have for breakfast on an average day? I don’t eat breakfast often,,, 

12. Name of your favorite playlist? Probably my Navy or Indigo playlist

13. Lanyard or key ring? Key ring 

14. Favorite non-chocolate candy? Anything green apple!!!

15. Favorite book you read as a school assignment? I actually genuinely enjoyed Romeo And Juliet tbh

16. Most comfortable position to sit in? I always curl up in a ball on the couch, but in a chair I manspread ngl

17. Most frequently worn pair of shoes? Nike slides <//3

18. Ideal weather? Between 50-70 degrees, sunny but not warm, being able to wear a hoodie and not be hot or cold

19. Sleeping position? I usually either sleep on my left side or on my stomach (my back once in a while when it’s hurting bc I’m a hag)

20. Preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? I write on my phone more than anything

21. Obsession from childhood? Hm- I was really obsessed with High School Musical as a kid. My friend and I would put it on and lip sync to the songs and pretend we were the characters

22. Role model? Is it- wrong to say myself? Bc I feel like that sounds arrogant but genuinely it’s bc I’m constantly trying to better myself mentally and learn and grow. Idk I just am proud of who I am and look to myself when I need to find motivation

23. Strange habits? Strange? Idk if it’s strange but I’m constantly twiddling with the hem of my sleeves bc I love the feeling of it

24. Favorite crystal? Citrine 

25. First song you remember hearing? WH- bitch idk tf

26. Favorite activity to do in warm weather? Stay tf inside in the air conditioning

27. Favorite activity to do in cold weather? Stay tf inside in the heat

28. Five songs to describe you? To describe me?? Girl idk I'm all over the place. How about songs that resonate with me instead,,, Alive by Khalid, Paranoid by Lauv, Phobia by Dvwn, Fake Smile by Ariana Grande, and Breathin by Ariana Grande

29. Best way to bond with you? Truly I'm not very difficult to get along with, just don't be an asshole. Talk to me about psychology, current events, say Soobin is the cutest to exist idk it's not that hard

30. Places that you find sacred? I- hm. I'm not like a church person or anything so idk. Maybe just anything really old or places with very detailed and unique architecture

31. What outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? I don't own many clothes,,, let alone nice clothes. I also don't really dress to impress I'd much rather be comfortable

32. Top five favorite vines? Oh god if I h a d to pick???? The lipstick in the Valentino bag, they were roommates, it's an avocado- thaaanks, jared 19, and uh,,, zach stooppp you're gonna get in trouble

33. Most used phrase in your phone? Tbh it's probably "girl what-" or "no bc"

34. Advertisements you have stuck in your head? That 877-CASH-NOW ONE JFC

35. Average time you fall asleep? Between 11pm-1am

36. What is the first meme you remember ever seeing? Probably the troll face one or smth

37. Suitcase or duffel bag? Suitcase

38. Lemonade or tea? I mix them together!

39. Lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? Lemon meringue pie bc I don't really like cake

40. Weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Y'all I- went to a hs/college mixed school,, I've seen it all. Weirdest?? Idk but one weird thing I remember was when we were making whistles in art and some dude made a penis whistle 😭

41. Last person you texted? My best friend :))

42. Jacket pockets or pants pockets? Jacket pockets

43. Hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? Hoodie 100%

44. Favorite scent for soap? I love soaps that smell like soap. Like ok duh I know that sounds dumb but yk what I mean? I don't want lemon or mint or whatever, I like the plain soap smell

45. Which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? Fantasy

46. Most comfortable outfit to sleep in? Oversized t-shirt, no pants. I question anyone that is comfortable sleeping with pants on-

47. Favorite type of cheese? Feta!

48. If you were a fruit, what kind would you be? I feel like I'd be a pineapple and I have no clue why

49. What saying or quote do you live by? Not necessarily a quote but more of a thought: live for yourself, enjoy each day, do what gives you joy

50. What made you laugh the hardest you ever have? I have had so many instances in which I have laughed so hard I peed and to even attempt to name one is impossible

51. Current stresses? Making sure my family gets their vaccines and stays safe

52. Favorite font? I don't think I have one? Anything except comic sans

53. What is the current state of your hands? What does this even mean 💀 I mean,, they're holding my phone, cold, and my nails are unpolished

54. What did you learn from your first job? That people are assholes but I'm capable of not giving a fuck bc life is not that damn serious

55. Favorite fairy tale? Is The Three Little Pigs considered a fairy tale?

56. Favorite tradition? Putting up the Christmas tree with my mom :( it's always a lot of fun

57. The three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? Depression, grief, and hopefully one day- smth I'm currently dealing with

58. Four talents you’re proud of having? Makeup!! But also: singing, crying on command, and tying cherry stems with my tongue

59. If you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? Sick of these bitches

60. If you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? I don't watch anime so idk

61. Favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? It's this line from Eleanor & Park: "Eleanor was right: She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something."

62. Seven characters you relate to? Holy hell, 7?? Probably won't get that many but hm,,, Darlene from Roseanne, Hermione from Harry Potter, Emily from Pretty Little Liars maybe?? Idk I suddenly blanked

63. Five songs that would play in your club? As if it's Your Last by BP, anything from SHINee, anything from Ariana, also anything Rihanna, just a bunch of women tbh

64. Favorite website from your childhood? FUCKING WEBKINZ BRO

65. Any permanent scars? I have a few on my arms idk where they came from tbh, I also have one on my hand from my sister 🧍🏻‍♀

66. Favorite flower(s)? Sunflowers!!! I also really love lilacs 💔

67. Good luck charms? My dog's collar that I wear as a bracelet

68. Worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? Licorice-

69. A fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? It takes repeating a piece of information 12 times at random to memorize it completely

70. Left or right handed? Right

71. Least favorite pattern? Fucking chevron- and realistic camo, and anything with the American flag

72. Worst subject? Yall im awful at history. American history, world history, all of it-

73. Favorite weird flavor combo? Either pickles and peanut butter or cheese and grapes

74. At what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? I'm stubborn but also always in pain so I've become numb to a lot of body pains. I have to be at like a 7-8 before I take smth otherwise I'd always be taking it

75. When did you lose your first tooth? I was probably like 5 I was definitely in Kindergarten

76. What’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? I fw baked potatoes

77. Best plant to grow on a windowsill? I have a love for succulents

78. Coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? Oh my- I don't drink coffee but coffee from a gas station

79. Which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? Driver's license for sure

80. Earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel tones

81. Fireflies or lightning bugs? I say both,, but I think I say lightning bugs more

82. PC or console? PC

83. Writing or drawing? Both

84. Podcasts or talk radio? Podcasts definitely

84. Barbie or polly pocket? Barbie

85. Fairy tales or mythology? Fairy tales

86. Cookies or cupcakes? C o o k i e s

87. Your greatest fear? Losing people I love

88. Your greatest wish? To live comfortably and be a great mother

89. Who would you put before everyone else? My family

90. Luckiest mistake? Guessing on 90% of a test and getting an A 💀

91. Boxes or bags? Bags are easier to carry-

92. Lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Fairy lights!!

93. Nicknames? Sam, Sammi, my sister calls me Sams, my best friend calls me Bub, and my gf calls me Baby if that counts- 👀

94. Favorite season? Fall omg it's gorgeous and has perfect temperatures

95. Favorite app on your phone? ✨tumblr✨

96. Desktop background? Its literally a pic of Soobin, Taehyun, and Beomgyu

97. How many phone numbers do you have memorized? Like 4-5

98. Favorite historical era? The one where white people learn their fucking place and stop being racist, homophobic, classist, sexist, all the -ists and -phobics,,,, so none. Fuck history :))

[thran-duils]

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 5)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 5) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 1,933 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Author’s Note: I have reset my tag list. If you want to be added back, please DM or send me an ask!

Chap 4 || Chap 6 || Masterpost  || Fanfic masterpost

This time, Sam did not protest when Dean suggested calling Castiel. The fact he had bothered you at the hospital when you were vulnerable had seemed to cross a line for him. As it should have. You did not protest either, frightened because he had found you and you knew Dean was right.

Door closed, Dean paced as the phone rang, his jaw set in determination.

Castiel barely got out hello on speaker phone before Dean cut him off furiously.

“The hell are you playing at?”

Castiel scoffed, bristled. He told Dean coolly, “I said what I needed to say to Y/N. This is between us, not you.”

“She is my family, so, no, you are wrong. I am one hundred percent involved when it comes to my family’s safety.” Dean growled. “You listen to me, you absolute psycho: Stop stalking her. Leave her the hell alone or things are going to get really ugly.”

Dean did not give Castiel time to respond before he hung up the call and unceremoniously tossed your cell phone onto the end of your bed. He ran his hand through his hair angrily, throwing an expectant look at you and Sam.

Sam leaned forward, giving him a nod of affirmation. His elbows rested on his thighs as he asked, “How the hell did he even know where she was?”

“He could have someone watching us,” you said quietly.

Dean sighed heavily, “Which means we need to even more so keep our head on a swivel.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“Please don’t leave me alone again in here,” you begged, looking between the two, eyes pleading.

Sam assured you quickly, “We won’t. We promise.”

You relaxed a little, slowly reclining again. Nervousness was eating away at you still, your mind traveling to dark places. Images of Castiel coming back during the night in retaliation for Dean’s call. Or blowing up the hospital in anger. Would he do that? You could not be sure he would not.

Your call light, you remembered.

“He unplugged this,” you said holding it up. “It’s why I couldn’t call for help when he was in here.”

Agitated with the situation, Dean sighed, “I’ll go find someone to properly get your call light set back up.”

<> <> <>

The following day, you were deemed well enough to be discharged from the hospital. You had to be on crutches for at least another week, although the doctor recommended continuing to use at least one for another week afterwards for support. They had set you up with enough painkillers too. You would most certainly have leftovers though since the medication made your head heavy, which meant you wanted to wean off as soon as possible.

At least over the next week, Dean and Sam were willing to wait on you hand and foot. You made sure to milk it as much as possible, reminding them because of you, you were all getting a two-week vacation. Dean scornfully told you unless his toes were in sand, it was not a vacation. You had merely held out your water bottle and gave him puppy dog eyes and smirked when he got up to assist.

Nearing the middle of the second week, as you and Sam headed out the door for a grocery run, you told them that you had a craving for takeout. Dean was quick to jump on board with this and texted Sam his order since he was staying behind at the bunker. On the way to the store, Sam pulled off at the restaurant to run inside and place the order for pick up on the way back home. The restaurant parking lot was empty except for a few cars, that could just be staff. This was not odd since it was late on a Sunday evening.

As he got back into the car, Sam made a quip about you needing to hobble faster when you were getting groceries since the pickup window was relatively short considering they were not being hit up for business at the restaurant. It was ten minutes into town, but you knew he was right, still you scowled, drawing a laugh from him.

When you parked back at the restaurant, you insisted that you ‘hobble’ your way inside to get some more exercise.

The bell rang on the door when you walked inside. You had been inside before a handful of times. The décor was a little outdated, but it was comfortable, and the food was good. Not to your surprise, the restaurant was indeed empty inside as you made your way to the front counter.

What did surprise you was that no one came out to greet you when you walked in and the bell rang. No host, server, owner… it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Despite all the alarm bells going off in your head, you reached out and hit the service bell. The ring echoed through the still air. You leaned on your crutch, craning your neck to see through the kitchen door windows.

You heard footsteps and saw a flash of brown hair through the window before they opened and your heart fell into your stomach.

Castiel smirked and said, “Well, I was expecting the tall halfwit, but what a lovely surprise. I guess my men do not get to lay their hands on anyone tonight. Pity.”

Your stomach was in knots and you turned, clumsily on the crutch, trying to leave. But two of his men were behind you now. They must have came from the hall at the same time he had walked out, while you were distracted. You barely wasted a second before turning back to face him, leveling him with a glare with more calm than you currently felt.

“I could scream. Sam would hear it,” you threatened.

“By all means, call him in here. I promised my guys here a brawl and if you would like to indulge them…” Castiel tsked you, waving a leather gloved finger, “But, my sweet, that is entirely unnecessary now that you are in here.” He held up the large back he was holing, the aroma of delicious food wafting. “I brought your food out. No need to scream. I even covered the bill.”

He placed it on the counter and reached into his pocket. You resisted the urge to flinch although you were entirely unsure of what he was reaching for.

When he presented you with a museum ticket, he looked proud of himself. ‘That is a good first date, no?” He placed it on the counter next to your food. “It is for anytime, just text me when and I will make time for you.”

He straightened his jacket and cleared his throat. His tone changed telling you tightly, “But… speaking of unnecessary… Dean. Threatening me. Me.” He took a step closing, his eyes burning into you. “Now, I do not fault you of course, kitten. He is an adult and made his own choices, albeit foolish ones.” Another step and he was close. “Can I request a favor from you regarding that?”

You did not think it was wise to refuse the request, so you gave him a small shrug of acceptance.

“In the future,” he reached out, resting his hand on your shoulder gently. You fought the urge to jerk away from him, more so due to your current altered state of balance. “Can you – silly me, we. We are a team. Can we make sure he keeps his nose out of our business? Hmm? I can guarantee he cannot conceptualize what ugly can really be.”

Silence suspended as he stared you down, waiting for an answer.

Swallowing sharply, you vowed, “I’ll do my best. He’s headstrong.”

A satisfied smile pulled at the corners of Castiel’s lips. “I daresay he would find a formidable challenge when put up against you, no?”

He stepped back, giving you breathing room. “I put two extra orders of crab rangoon in the bag for you. Courtesy of the chef since he made you such subpar rice and the girl was going to serve you it without batting an eye. I despise terrible service, it is unbecoming.”

Tapping the ticket on the counter, he requested, “Please let me know when you decide to go. I know the museum here is not grand, so this is for the National Gallery in D.C. I will need some time to arrange flights and lodgings.”

His men walked around you when he beckoned them. “An unexpected pleasure to lay my eyes on your charming face, kitten. Your face happened to save your friend’s.” With a wink, he told you, “I am glad to see you are doing far better. I will be seeing you.”

Following him, the men went through the kitchen door, leaving you standing by yourself.

Your eyes were trained on the kitchen door, dread swirling in your stomach. You had thought it the moment Castiel had walked out but there was no doubt deep down that something was wrong with the staff considering they had still not shown themselves. And he had sounded so upset with them, which you knew would not bode well for them.

A part of you did not want to check.

But the messiah complex was winning.

Slowly, you hobbled towards the swinging doors. Heart hammering, you swung one of the doors open and shuffled through the doorway.

At the first sight of what you assumed was the server with her hand pinned to the wood counter with a long knife and a gash across her throat, you almost keeled over. Your hand on the wall caught you, bile rushing up your throat.

The bell ringing on the other side of the door startled you.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Y/N?”

All the worry slipped away hearing Sam’s voice. It was not Castiel returning or another customer that would see your face and ID you to the cops.

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to will the nausea away before leaving the kitchen.

“Hello?” Sam called again.

You emerged from the kitchen, pushing your way through the door.

“The hell you doing back there for?” he questioned, his brow pinched in confusion.

Shaking your head, you gestured at the food. “I… we just need to get out of here. As soon as possible. Can you carry the food? It’s too heavy for me.”

Cocking his head concerned, Sam asked you expectantly, “Y/N….?”

“We do not want to be here if the cops show up, Sam. Trust me.”

Sam eyes moved to the kitchen behind you and when he moved around you, you sighed, knowing you could not stop him even if you tried. He disappeared through the doors and you heard him exclaim in alarm. He was back out in the blink of an eye.

Pointing behind him, he demanded, “What the hell is that?”

“What do you think. Or for that matter, who?”

Sam’s face darkened. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m unfortunately not. But like I said, we need to leave or we are going to have a huge problem on our hands.”

Turning his eyes upward, Sam eyed the security camera above the door. You followed his gaze and reassured him quickly, “I don’t think Castiel would leave tape that would incriminate himself or me for that matter. Now can we go?” Sam shot you an incredulous look. “Don’t give me that look.”

Sam did as you asked, keeping watch around you as you both walked to the car.

You did not realize until later that the museum ticket had been left behind.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (22/?)

AO3 link: here

“Hey, Kirako-san?”

I knocked quietly against the open doorway of the clerk room and poked my head into the room. Kirako was sitting by the window with her laptop open, clearly engrossed in shopping for a new collar for her cat, “Mii-chan,” and she jumped when I called her name a little louder.

“Kirako-san?”

“I’m working hard, I swear!” she shrieked, rapidly closing a bunch of windows all at once. “Don’t write me up!!”

“Relax, Kirako-san,” I laughed, “it’s just me. I’m not going to tell anyone what you were doing but if I were you...”

I looked around and lowered my voice to a whisper.

“I wouldn’t go with that fuchsia collar,” I said, grinning, “It’ll clash with the orange in Mii-chan’s fur.”

“You think?” Kirako groused as I nodded firmly.

She sighed.

“Still, I’m glad it’s just you, Kyou-chan,” she mumbled, putting her hand on her chest and leaning back in her chair. “Kunikida-san would have my head for sure if he caught me shopping during work hours. Do you need something from me?”

I nodded.

It had been almost a full day since the explosion at Yamazaki Shuji’s second apartment. As the firefighters continued to put out the flames, Kunikida and I went back to Katai’s place, retrieved a small handful of printouts and then immediately returned to the Agency. I decided to leave the black access card with Katai, in case he needed it for something else and Katai, for his part, agreed to call me back the minute he found something new, in exchange for nothing more than a simple grocery run.

“I don’t like to leave the house,” he’d mumbled quietly before burrowing back into his futon like a hibernating bear in a cave.

With Katai’s printouts to guide me, I spent the rest of yesterday afternoon trying to find anything else I could on the aliases “Tsushima Shuji” and “Yamazaki Shuji.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much beyond what Katai had already figured out. I ended up staying a full hour past the end of my shift, alternating between manically searching the internet and hitting my head against my desk in frustration until a very concerned Atsushi shook me and insisted I call it quits for the day.

But just when I thought I was going to be at a dead end, I remembered this morning that Kunikida and Dazai had been the ones to orchestrate Mrs. Yamazaki’s relocation. If they’d done it shortly after I’d first informed them of her upcoming murder, then they were sure to have documented their proceedings somewhere, as part of the paperwork they did when they finished a case—my case.

I’d run so fast to the clerk room that I’d nearly tripped on my way there.

So here I was, standing before Kirako, with my fingers crossed in my burgundy skirt pocket, hoping that she might have something for me.

“I’m looking for my case files.”

Kirako adjusted her glasses and squinted at me through her bright pink frames.

“But... you haven’t turned them in yet,” she said, sounding confused.

“No, not those,” I said, shaking my head. “The files Dazai-san and Kunikida-san turned in when they rescued me from Akutagawa at the art gallery.”

Kirako’s forest-green eyes widened.

“You want those?”

For a second, she looked uncomfortable.

“Uh. Kyou-chan... You sure you want those?” she asked again, staring doubtfully at me. “Most people generally avoid looking at their own case files... depending on who wrote the reports, they’re not always that flattering...”

“I’m sure,” I said firmly, “And I’m not after my own information, I’m trying to look into Yamazaki Tomie-san, my old neighbor.”

“Your old neighbor?” she asked, turning back to the computer and pulling up the filing software. “Are you just looking out of curiosity? Because this says she’s been relocated to Nagano.”

“Yeah, I know about that,” I admitted, “But is there anything else on her? Or her husband? Anything that Dazai-san or Kunikida-san might’ve filed around the time when I joined?”

“Let’s check...”

Kirako began typing but when she found what she was looking for, I heard a sound like a buzzer. I glanced over her shoulder at a grayed-out file. It looked a little like the hidden files Katai had dug up on Mr. Yamazaki yesterday.

“What’s that noise?” I asked curiously.

Kirako frowned.

“That’s weird,” she mumbled, clicking the mouse again. “It looks like the file is locked.”

“Locked?” I repeated incredulously, staring at the screen in shock. “But you’re the highest ranking clerk—you have access to everything! How could it be locked?”

“I don’t know,” Kirako said quietly, clicking through, “it’s probably some kind of error. Either that or whoever wrote it made it so that only they or President Fukuzawa could open it, which doesn’t happen too often...”

She shot me an apologetic look.

“We can ask IT to look into it but for now, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

I slapped my hand over my face and groaned as Kirako clicked through a few more screens.

“You know,” she said, scrolling through what seemed to be a separate document, “from the looks of this bit here, Yamazaki Tomie-san might actually be in witness protection. If that’s the case, I’m not sure how much you’re going to be able to find on her here with us...”

She glanced up at me.

“Why are you looking into her right now?” she asked. Her features softened into a sympathetic smile. “Do you miss her, Kyou-chan? If you just want to talk to her, I’m sure it can wait.”

“I did think about reaching out yesterday,” I admitted, thinking back to my conversation with Kyouka and Atsushi about bento boxes, “but this has something to do with my current case. The company that hired me and Dazai-san thinks her husband stole a lot of money from them.”

Kirako’s eyes shot up into her bangs.

“Really? Well, if that’s the case, maybe you could try the police department? If he’s a known criminal, they might have something?”

I chewed my cheek.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea...”

If Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki were in some kind of trouble with the Port Mafia or the criminal underworld, then asking the police could draw more unwanted attention to them. And even if that weren’t the case, if Mrs. Yamazaki was in witness protection, there’s no way someone like me, an employee of a private detective agency, would be allowed access to that kind of information, no matter how important Ranpo-san liked to say we were.

Not to mention, the last time I checked in with the police, I ended up being confronted by Akutagawa and nearly getting my legs chopped off...

“Wait...” I mumbled, suddenly remembering something. “Maybe Dazai-san has her information. He’s the one who told me she relocated, after all, maybe he has her phone number—”

“Whose number would I have?” a familiar tenor voice chirped from behind me.

I whirled.

“Dazai-san!”

For once, I was actually happy to see him and it must’ve shown on my face because the bandaged brunette brightened up instantly.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise!” he declared, his chocolate-brown eyes sparkling as he regarded me. “Now why can’t you smile this sweetly for me every time I see you?”

“Do you happen to have Yamazaki Tomie-san’s phone number by any chance?” I asked, choosing to ignore his previous remark. “You know, my old neighbor?”

One of Dazai’s dark eyebrows quirked upwards into his messy bangs.

“No...? Why would I have that?” he asked blankly.

As usual, he wasn’t wearing his trench coat while he was in the office and he crossed his bandaged arms with a confused look on his face.

“She’s married. And a bit old for me, don’t you think?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to call him out for being too flirty for his own good but right now, I needed something from him and it was probably wisest to stay on his good side.

“I just thought,” I said slowly, “that you might have it since you were the last person to come into contact with her after... the incident at the art gallery.”

“Ohhh, I see,” Dazai murmured, rubbing his chin. “You’re trying to check up on her, aren’t you? Well, sorry to disappoint you, Kusunoki-kun, but I don’t have it.”

I felt my shoulders droop in disappointment.

“But if you like...” Dazai offered, that impish grin sliding back onto his face, “I could help you track her down. In exchange for a small favor, of course.”

“You’re going to help me find her,” I said, smiling as pleasantly as possible, “because it’s relevant to our case. I went over to Katai-san’s yesterday and—”

“That’s right!” Dazai suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together in excitement, “How did everything go with Kunikida-kun yester—”

I slapped both my hands over his mouth to stop him from saying anything further and shot a horrified look over my shoulder at Kirako, who, thankfully, only looked confused.

“Dazai-san.”

There was an edge to my smile and without removing one of my hands from his mouth, I started pushing him out the door.

“Could I speak to you about our case? In private?”

Without waiting for him to answer, I pushed him right past the threshold and nodded politely to Kirako as we left. I didn’t take my hand off Dazai’s mouth (ugh, this felt so weird) until I’d pushed him into the conference room. This time, however, I didn’t lock the door.

“What are you doing?!” I snapped, all patience exhausted. “Why would you bring up Kunikida-san in front of Kirako-san?! I thought you said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I wasn’t going to!” Dazai claimed, looking affronted, “I just wanted to know what you found out at Katai’s place.”

As I eyed him suspiciously, Dazai put up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Well, it turns out, Tsushima Shuji and Yamazaki Shuji are the same person,” I told him. “Katai managed to get into the company employee files and I recognized the ID photo he pulled up. It looks like it was taken a few decades ago, around the time Shuji-san and Tomie-san got married. They must’ve moved here from Nagano when Tanaka Investments hired him.”

“So he’s been working at the company this whole time,” Dazai mumbled, tapping his chin. “Interesting.”

“What about you, Dazai-san?” I asked, putting a hand on my hip. “I didn’t see you all afternoon yesterday—”

“Oh?”

Dazai suddenly perked up, taking his hand off his chin.

“Did you miss me, my sweet—?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I cut him off, slapping away his hands before he could put them somewhere I’d make him regret. “I’m asking you what you found yesterday while I was talking to Katai-san. He said he was going to try to trace everything he could of Yamazaki Shuji today and that he’d call me once he’d finished but I’d like to hear what you found.”

I crossed my arms and fixed him with a suspicious look.

“You said you were going out to talk to some information brokers yesterday, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you actually stayed at my desk all day, huffing my markers or something? And no—”

I jabbed a finger in his face like he was a misbehaving dog. Dazai had suddenly looked a little too excited at the prospect of digging through my desk for Sharpies.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” I stressed. “For one, it’s not going to kill you, just get you high as a kite, and two, you’ll dry them out and then I won’t be able to use them any more.”

I crossed my arms as Dazai wilted visibly and let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m not going to go through your desk,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his bandaged neck. “Not for markers, anyway. But you’re right, that’s not important. We should talk about what I learned about Shuji-san.”

He pulled out a chair for me and gestured for me to sit.

Making a mental note to move anything even remotely toxic out of my desk and into my locker, I also let out a heavy sigh and sat.

“So my information corroborates yours,” Dazai said, pulling out his own chair and scooting noisily against the tiles until he was squished up right next to me in the large, empty conference room.

He took out a set of papers from inside his black vest and put them down on the long table in front of us.

“Yamazaki Shuji does appear to be our target’s real name. He grew up in Nagano, where he met his wife, Tomie-san, then relocated with her to Yokohama when Tanaka Investments scouted him. Over the years, he rose up through the ranks until he became one of their most senior accountants and account managers.”

Dazai placed another document on the table.

“According to these records, Shuji-san took a lot of business trips abroad and was rarely at the company. His last visit to the company headquarters took place about a month ago.”

“Wait a second,” I said, shifting the set of papers on the table. “Katai-san says Shuji-san seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth a month ago, but his card was used to get building access two nights ago—the night before the bombing.”

I glanced up at Dazai.

“That means someone used his card to get into the building—probably to set the bomb that nearly got us yesterday.”

Dazai nodded.

“I assume you saw the dead bird in the trash can?” he asked, leaning one bandaged arm on the table as he looked at me, his striped shirt sleeve scuffing up one set of the documents.

“I did,” I replied, trying to shove his arm off the papers but he wouldn’t budge. I gave up. “President Tanaka must’ve tightened security because he’s afraid someone’s after him. And given there was that bombing at Shuji-san’s second apartment, I can’t blame him.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“‘Second’ apartment?” he asked, “Why do you call it that?”

“Because,” I said, surprised.

He hadn’t figured it out?

“His first apartment is the one he shared with his wife, down the hall where I lived.”

Dazai grew quiet. He seemed to be scrutinizing me very carefully and for just a moment, the look in his bright brown eyes appeared to be one of pity. At once, I frowned.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Kusunoki,” Dazai began.

He tapped his fingers against the table as he studied me.

“Let me ask you a question. It’s a philosophical question but, please, humor me for a second.”

“What?” I asked, taken aback. “A philosophy question? Now?”

Dazai nodded and at the look in his eyes, I was struck silent.

I’d seen the expression in those clear brown eyes once before, the night I was rescued from the gallery. It was the same look Dazai had given me when I was holding that glass shard to my own neck... like he was seeing something in me that I didn’t want to see in myself...

The brightly lit room suddenly felt warm and stuffy. My heart began to race.

“...What is it?”

“It’s from an old book I read once,” Dazai said, still staring deep into my eyes, “Let’s say for nine years, I had an apple. I believed it was a goodly apple but after possessing it for those nine years and one day, I discover that it is rotten to its core.”

He lowered his gaze momentarily, his thick, dark bangs dropping just a little over his eyes.

“Had been the whole time, actually, even though I had not been aware of it,” he said, smiling softly to no one in particular.

I could barely breathe.

“Would it be fair to say then,” Dazai continued, glancing back up at me, “that I had possessed for nine years, a goodly apple?”

“I...”

I looked away.

“I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“I think you do.”

And with that, Dazai gently laid one large, half bandaged hand over mine. My heart stopped as the weight of his hand settled against it.

“Answer my question, Kusunoki,” he said gently. “Did I, for those nine years, possess a goodly apple?”

His fingers closed around mine.

“Dazai...?”

I felt a lump forming in my throat as I stared back into his deep brown eyes.

Was he really asking about an apple...?

I could tell Dazai was waiting patiently for my answer, so with some difficulty, I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak. I couldn’t bring myself to move my hand out from under his.

“I think...” I replied slowly, “that it was. A goodly apple that is. You spent nine good years with it, didn’t you? And it brought you joy.”

“Joy?” Dazai asked, his dark brows drawing together momentarily in thought.

“Yes.”

I studied his face as I answered.

“They say time heals all wounds. I’m sure you will always remember the moment you found out about the rotten core, but as time passes, the pain will start to fade and you’ll be left with the memories of those nine good years instead. And if it’s the nine years you remember best, then...”

I smiled and Dazai’s dark eyes widened just a fraction. His hand twitched where it lay over mine.

“Yes. It was a goodly apple.”

“Kyou...” Dazai breathed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Dazai was staring at me as if he had never properly seen my face before and I felt my face warm under the intensity of his stare. And in that moment, the curtains behind his dark eyes seemed to lift... and I found myself once again seeing a side of Dazai that I’d only caught fleeting glimpses of before...

It was the same Dazai who pulled away from me yesterday morning, when I’d reached back to place my hand over his.

And the same lonely Dazai who’d walked me home that cold, spring night...

... and asked me to join him in double suicide.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey... Dazai?”

I bit my lip.

“Are you okay? Why did you ask me this question?”

At once, Dazai smiled. The curtains came down like a steel door and his mask snapped back into place. It all happened so quickly that I was left wondering what I had just seen—and if I had actually seen anything at all.

Dazai’s smile softened and he slowly leaned in.

“I’m fine,” he whispered sweetly, giving my hand a light, affectionate squeeze. “But is that your final answer, Kyou-chan? Do you really believe in the healing power of time so strongly?”

“I—I do,” I stammered, my heart suddenly beating faster than before as his eyes seemed to darken. “I mean, of course I do. Why—”

My voice caught in my throat and I cleared it lightly to try to stop the words from sticking.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, “when my own Ability allows me to see the future?”

Dimly, I thought back to Saeki Mei from the convenience store, the woman who had been kidnapped during my first case. I thought about how I’d seen a vision of her in the summer, through the old manager’s eyes. Mei would be laughing and jogging and wearing new blonde highlights in her pitch-black hair when she returned in July. And Mei would be back. The manager had assured me of this.

“I’ve seen it,” I said at last, staring back into his eyes. “I’ve seen people heal.”

“That’s good,” Dazai said quietly, still watching me with that inscrutable look in his eyes. He started leaning in close. “Good to hear...”

“Um, Dazai...?” I whispered, my heart beating so loud I was sure he could hear it too. “Sh-shouldn’t we go back to talking about the case...?”

“Case?” Dazai repeated absentmindedly.

The sound of someone knocking on the conference room door drew my attention and Dazai and I looked up as one as Tanizaki Junichiro poked his head into the room.

“Oh, there you are, Kusunoki-san,” he said.

I saw his eyes shift towards the table, where Dazai’s hand still lay over mine and at once, I shifted and pulled my hand back. Dazai, however, hadn’t moved.

“I was looking for you,” Tanizaki continued, opening the door further and stepping fully into the room.

He jerked a thumb behind him towards the direction of the main lobby.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind cleaning up the area around your desk a little. We’re expecting some deliveries this afternoon and Kunikida-san asked us to keep the main office space clear for it...”

He glanced at the set of printouts spread out across the table.

“Unless, of course, you’re discussing a case and you’re busy? I can come back later, you know.”

“No, it’s okay!” I said, jumping to attention the instant Kunikida’s name crossed Tanizaki’s lips. “I can help. Unless...”

I shot an annoyed glance at Dazai, who quickly stifled an audible snicker behind one half-bandaged hand.

“...we need to do this now?”

“No, it can wait,” Dazai said, the ghost of his laughter still visible in the smile on his face.

He pulled out a handheld gaming console from somewhere underneath the desk and started up some sort of game, ignoring me as I frowned at him.

So that’s why he chose to sit here—he must’ve taped all sorts of weird toys and things under the table so he wouldn’t get bored during conferences.

It wasn’t necessarily because he was trying to get close to me...

“Uh, Kusunoki-san?” Tanizaki prompted me, “You still coming?”

“Yeah!” I replied, not understanding where the strange sense of disappointment was coming from. I turned to look at Dazai, who was now sitting with his feet on the table, almost scuffing the printouts, fully immersed in playing his game.

“Guess I’ll get going then?”

Without looking up at me, Dazai nodded. He pursed his lips in concentration and continued madly pushing at the buttons on his console.

“Yeah, sure, go,” he said in between spurts of frantic button mashing. “Let’s pick this back up when I’ve beaten this second boss—I mean, when you’re done out there.”

Victory music blasted from the speakers and Dazai let out a raucous cheer. He put down the device for just a second and winked.

“Go impress Kunikida-kun.”

“You—!”

I bit back my retort as I saw the look of confusion on Tanizaki’s face. I slapped a hand over my face and sighed.

“Never mind. See you later, Dazai-san.”

“Ciao!”

Rolling my eyes, I followed Tanizaki out the door as the sounds of video game music resumed playing.

“Oh, and Kusunoki-kun?”

I turned back slightly at the sound of Dazai’s voice.

“Yes?”

I heard fight music playing over the speakers of Dazai’s gaming console. He met my gaze and smiled.

“There’s no need to worry about Yamazaki Tomie-san. I checked in on her nephew a few days ago and she’s doing well. She said to tell you ‘hi.’”

I brought my hand up to my mouth.

“Dazai-san...!”

He actually went and checked on her?

“Thank you,” I said, smiling warmly at him. “That’s... surprisingly sweet of you.”

“I can be full of surprises,” Dazai quipped, grinning cheekily. “Have fun!”

And with that, he went back to his game. Still smiling, I let the door close behind me, the tinny sounds of electronic bells and whistles disappearing as the conference room sealed itself once more.

***

“So what kind of deliveries are we expecting today?” I asked as Tanizaki shuffled about the empty main office with a simple broom and dustpan in his hands.

It was relatively early in the afternoon but it seemed everyone was out. Everyone except for me, Tanizaki, Dazai, and Kirako, anyway. Kunikida had apparently left Tanizaki in charge of the main office area (his sister was out running shopping errands for the office) and Kirako in charge of the clerks while a few of the detectives accompanied President Fukuzawa to escort a foreign diplomat around Yokohama. Because Dazai and I were working on a relatively big case, we were allowed to remain. Everyone else, it seemed, was out working in the field. I paused my own sweeping to glance over at Kyouka’s desk, which had been refurbished and delivered yesterday, just before I started this case with Dazai.

“Is someone else getting an improved desk?”

“No, but we’re getting some new equipment,” Tanizaki replied, sweeping towards the main door. “First thing coming this afternoon is a fancy new printer, the kind with the copier built in. Haruno-san’s been asking for it for months and Kunikida-san finally caved.”

“Ah.” I smiled. “Good for her.”

I might not have been with the Agency long, but even a couple of weeks was enough for me to find out how difficult it was to get Kunikida to spend money. That man watched the budget like accounting was his second job... which it probably was, I realized with a silent grimace.

If I was doing the math correctly (I might not be, I still remembered that overblown math lesson Kunikida gave me after I passed my Entrance Exam), the overall costs from my Entrance Exam still might not have been recovered yet. Not by me alone, anyway.

“By the way, how did everything go yesterday?” Tanizaki asked with a friendly smile.

“Dazai’s lying!!” I exclaimed in a rush, squeezing my broom handle so tightly in my hands that it nearly bent. “I don’t know what you heard but it’s not true! It was all professional, I swear!!”

Tanizaki blinked at me in confusion, then slowly and steadily started backing away.

“Uhh, okay,” he said slowly, putting his broom up defensively, the way one might when facing a dangerous animal, “I didn’t hear anything in particular, just that you met with Katai-san and you needed to talk to him about your case?”

“Oh,” I breathed out, instantly settling down. “Oh, right. Yeah, everything went fine.”

Hoping it would put Tanizaki at ease, I laughed a little.

“Katai-san is an interesting person, isn’t he?” I said, resuming my sweeping. “I heard he used to work for the Agency, years ago and it seems the only person he really keeps in touch with is Kunikida-san. Have you met Katai-san, Tanizaki-kun?”

At once, Tanizaki’s face darkened and I actually flinched when I saw the murderous look in his red-tinted eyes.

“Yeah, I have,” the redhead growled, nearly snapping his broom in half as he recalled some offensive incident. “I’d heard he gets really weird around girls but I’ll never forget the shit he pulled around Naomi. The way he stared at her...”

His grip tightened on his broom handle and this time, it was my turn to back away from Tanizaki as he trailed off and fumed in silence. Yosano had warned me never to ask any questions about the Tanizaki siblings’ relationship and I thought it best to take her advice. Two weeks in the Agency was more than enough for me to guess...

“I-it’s lucky I wasn’t exactly Katai-san’s type, then huh?” I tried to joke.

Although Katai had thought I was Kunikida’s...

Just thinking about it made my face burn so I looked away and continued sweeping.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Tanizaki mumbled, making his way towards the trash can by the client booth.

He set his broom against the stained glass paneling and opened up the lid

“So you’re making progress on your case, then?” Tanizaki asked as I nodded and joined him by the trash bin. “That’s good. It seems like a tough one. Tougher still since you’re working with Dazai-san. I mean.”

He elbowed me slightly and laughed.

“Speaking of men who get weird around girls, am I right?”

Tanizaki continued chuckling to himself as I emptied my dustbin into the trash but I couldn’t bring myself to return the laugh.

Dazai was definitely the worst kind of flirt but there was something about him back there, something different from his usual antics. Nobody had ever looked at me the way Dazai had just now... like he was trying—really trying—to get to know me. Like he was utterly fascinated by me...

And that he really liked what he saw...

I put down the dustbin and broom and stared into the trash, at the ashes from the fire Dazai had set yesterday.

Why had he asked me that question...? He clearly hadn’t been asking me about a literal apple but why did Dazai want to ask about my worldview so suddenly? And why did he seem so surprised by my answer?

So genuinely surprised... and pleased?

I bit my lip as I thought about the way his hand had rested against mine and how I hadn’t moved away.

I hadn’t moved away because I didn’t want to...

Why?

Why does my heart beat so fast when he looks at me like that...?

Why does his smile make me want to stop and stare at him for hours on end?

I closed my eyes and tried to put the thoughts out of my head but no sooner had I done so than a memory floated back to me—the memory of the day I’d met Dazai—the way he’d smiled when he handed me my drawing, the way his eyes had sparkled when he’d caught me staring...

I put my hand up to my face and covered my eyes.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him all of a sudden?

The only man I liked was Kunikida... and only Kunikida...

Right...?

“Kusunoki-san?” Tanizaki asked, sounding confused and slightly concerned when I suddenly and violently twitched, as if I were falling asleep on my feet and abruptly woke back up.

He leaned over to peer into the trash with me.

“What are you looking at? Oh.”

He wrinkled his nose and sighed when he saw the charred ring of residue in the metal bin.

“The fire, huh? Yeah it’s a good thing you weren’t here when Dazai did that. I swear to God, all hell broke loose right before lunch yesterday. Kunikida basically lost it—you should’ve heard him yelling and screaming—”

“Should I take this outside and wash it?” I asked, pointing to the can but Tanizaki was already shaking his head.

“Nah, you don’t need to. We can ask the building janitor to take care of it. Then again...”

He studied my face, looking slightly concerned.

“If you need a breath of fresh air,” he said, “we could always just make a quick trip to the larger bins out back. I’ll take these. Why don’t you go to the shredders by the printer and see what you can get?”

Nodding furiously, I hurried off towards the printers—only to trip on the very trash can I’d just offered to clean up. I fell to the ground with an undignified squawk of surprise, spilling ashes and scraps of paper everywhere as the trash can rolled away on its side. I leaped to my feet.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed, scrambling to clean up the mess I’d just made. “Let me get this—”

“That’s fine, but you don’t have to use your hands!” Tanizaki cried, looking frantic and now more worried than ever. “Kusunoki, what’s going on? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I insisted, picking up scraps of paper and flinging them into the trash, completely disregarding Tanizaki’s protests. “This was my fault so I’ll...”

I trailed off as my eyes landed on a name on one of the larger scraps of paper. The corner was burned and there were dried chunks of fire extinguisher foam on the black ink of the text, but I could still make out the words.

It was an autopsy report, forwarded to the Armed Detective Agency by request of one of the detectives looking into an open case.

The name of the victim: Yamazaki Tomie.

And the detective who had requested the report...

Dazai Osamu.