#i tried leash training but she got too overwhelmed and would want to go right back outside like both scared and fixated lol

[leafened]

i bought a cat backpack for hank and she looves it, like was very engaged/firing on all cylinders but not scared at all, and then got back in the backpack when I took her out of it inside. and then relaxed way harder than normal after like 5 min of decompressing

[whumpitisthen]

I don't know if you take a request!

But, can you write about Whumpee with Stockholm Syndrome who went back to Whumper after finally escaped for a month?

I take requests yes but you must know it takes me four years to come up with a single draft for anything so be prepared to wait an indefinite amount of time!! I tried to keep it short and idk if ive succeeded!! Here you go!!

No Longer a Lie

Their goodbye was the same as a soldier’s going off to war. He may never return, and even if he does, he would return a different man. A sombre, yet loving valediction.

Her smile is watery and proud. The kind, thoughtful, caring old lady that found him that day and took him in believes that he is going home today. He had told her his parents have finally arranged everything ready for him to return. He had explained that they didn't expect him to suddenly show up in their life after so many years again, that they lived abroad and needed time to get his papers in order, that they cannot wait to see him again. She believes he is going to heal and find himself, and be safe under the care of his family.

He was lying. He doesn't have a family. He had lied to this sweet, innocent lady so she would not try to stop him from what he is about to do. She thinks she saved him, and that he is going home. To some extent, that is true.

She packed him a backpack full of snacks, spare clothes, even some money. She bought him new clothes to wear. She walked him to the train station, though her rickety hips barely allowed her to stay standing long enough. She watched him get on the train and waved at him all the way up until they could no longer see each other through the window as the platform grew further and further away.

He only cried once he was sure she could not see.

He retraces every step he took a month prior to this day. He minds the gap, turns every corner. He recognises a flower shop in the suburbs. The large, tilted tree in the park. A large graffiti under the cement bridge is his next sign that he is going the right direction.

Soon, the houses become overwhelmingly familiar. A few more blocks, and he will be there. His legs ache, the new, cheap shoes he got from her rub at his heels with every step, bloodying the rough fabric. He could not stop his journey if he wanted. He feels his very heart dragging him along on a leash, back to where he left a month ago, back to where he escaped.

There it is. A secluded house at the edge of town, fenced off with barbed wire and kept in perfect condition. His soles burn, but his pace only quickens. He knows those chain links. He knows those barred windows. He knows that godforsaken garage door. He is home. He made it.

Oh, she would have never let him go if he told her that he considered this prison his home.

Reaching the outer gate, the intimate feeling of fear choking him arises like an old friend. The last time he saw this place from the outside he only got to for a moment in his haste. A glance over his shoulder in the middle of the night, and then he was gone like a ghost. He wonders what all has changed. He doubts anything has.

He hesitates. They will be angry at him, he's sure. So, so angry. He left without warning, without saying anything. To think he thought he could leave without repercussions instead of owning up to his mistake and suffering the consequences. Now, here he is thirty days later, crawling back on trembling legs, in strange clothing and some fat under his skin to beg for forgiveness. He is the most ungrateful, pathetic creature he can imagine. He's sure he will be told as much once the door opens.

He steels himself and presses the bell. It goes off twice in quick succession thanks to his twitchy fingers. He cannot tell if the overwhelming nerves strangling him are of worry or excitement.

He has been away for too long, trying to function in a place he is no longer meant for. He craves this hell like one would their heaven. He knows it's wrong, he knows he could leave right now and go back to the old lady that took care of him like her own son and he could relearn how to be a person and it would all be okay. He rationalises that it's far too late for that.

The ten seconds that pass in silence after the bell chimes are agony spreading over an eternity. His fingers cramp with how fiercely he fists them to his palm. Eventually, however, the entrance opens, and out steps the devil himself.

He stops on the porch, pausing to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him, but he then quickly crosses the distance between the two of them to jerk the gate open and embrace him before his lost darling could even rant off his apology that he has been writing in his head ever since he first took a step outside of this house.

They stand in silence for a long minute.

This moment feels absolutely perfect. Better than he ever expected it to feel; just the most idyllic scene that goes exactly as he had dreamed it would. The hug feels better than he had imagined, so warm and tight and all-encompassing. His red nose finds its way into the crook of the man's neck, nestling in there. He breathes in deep, taking in the smell of comfort, of the wonderfully known and expected; the familiarity.

“I’ve told you so many times. You do not belong out there anymore.”

In reality, what he had experienced with his freedom was not joy, but layers upon layers of anxiety. Everything was new, everything was unusual, everything was terrifying. What he had grown so used to during his years in this house he threw away in blind greed, wanting more from life than the perfect world his owner had made for him.

At first the freedom was elating. Long forgotten concepts like privacy and control had returned and excited him. But then his new circumstances became tiring. One or two core differences became dozens of alien rules he had to rememorise. Then came shame at experiencing such trouble with something that is meant to be no issue at all for anyone; anyone but him. Normal people don't expect perfect obedience in return for tolerance. Normal people don't have to ask for permission to eat when a plate is put in front of them. Normal people don't have to keep their owners content. Normal people aren't scared of their owners. Normal people don't have owners. These are all things he had to get used to, among the sea of other more obscure examples.

The final straw was his curse of worthlessness. He felt he did not deserve any of this. He ran away. He broke so many rules. He was having awful trouble with his new rules. He was ungrateful. And yet, the old lady only showed kindness and care. No punishments, no threats, not even any mocking or insults. Just relentless, angelic forgiveness. She would not hurt him even when he offered, even when he had asked. He could not handle this; he felt like he was going to go insane with guilt.

His owner had told him this countless times, but only now does he truly understand what he had meant, — the complicated, scary life of a free person just isn't suited for him. Not anymore. He is different. He cannot be left alone for long. He cannot function without clear cut rules, routine or punishments. He doesn't think like everyone else. Above everything, what was killing him every day the most was yearning for his owner. He needs his owner. He cannot be away from him, he depends on him too much. He missed him every day, feeling dumber and dumber each day for being so cowardly.

But now, now he is here again, in his owner's capable hands. Everything will make sense again, all his mistakes will be fixed and he can spend the rest of his life atoning for his naïve stupidity. He will take being locked up in this birdcage for the rest of his life. He will take the sharp, unending burn of punishments each time he slips up. He will take it all without a word if that's what his owner wants. He missed him more than should be possible. He cries. He is so happy.

His relief is crushed as soon as the door locks behind him, and he is once again all alone with the man. His freshly washed hair is grabbed and he is dragged all the way down to the source of all of his nightmares, sent to the floor viciously. His crying turns desperate. He is barely left time to gasp out a plea before he is grabbed again and tied up much too tightly, rope burning over old, thick scarring along his wrists. His cries are muffled with a gag, and his tears are soaked up with a blindfold.

He becomes inconsolable then. He knew this would happen, he knew he would be punished, he knows he deserves it — but this is all too sudden, juxtaposed horribly by the tenderness of that hug that he waited a month for and needed more than he ever realised. Now it's like his owner is a different man, mercilessly restraining him and not saying a word, just like when he is truly furious. He didn't seem angry at all before. His owner seemed as relieved as he did.

He can tell he is dropped off in the middle of the basement by how cold it is and how his skin catches on the drain under him. He is pulled to kneel, and while he tries his best to obey every wordless order, his limbs have become useless jelly, flowing in all the wrong directions.

The punishment is severe. So severe that he is certain he won't survive it. The first to break are his legs. He might not ever be able to walk again, much less run away from consequences. His arms are wrenched behind and up until his shoulders pop, rendering all his limbs useless. They are left there like that, hanging off him like parasites that feed on his agony. He is beaten with something heavy, made of iron. That breaks several more bones, his ribs mostly. His screams start dying down then, not for a lack of trying. The gag muffles every apology he sobs into it, ensuring he will only be able to say sorry once his owner has decided he is truly sorry.

He is reduced to a bag of flesh to be abused. He cannot fight any of it, he cannot see any of it and he cannot stop any of it. He has never felt so much like an object before in his life, not with the old lady, not prior escaping, not prior to being caught. Still, he never even thinks about regretting coming back. He never holds anything against his master, he never holds a grudge or resentment. He deserves this for disobeying him, and his owner deserves his pain as compensation. He deserves this, he deserves this, please, please let him say he deserves all of it and see how he regrets running. He needs to say it, he needs this to end, he wants nothing more than to grovel at the man's feet and sob over and over how worthless he is and how he will never ever try anything like this again.

The only way this can end is if he is forgiven, but he cannot be forgiven until he has apologised.

The blindfold is never removed, not like his bindings and the gag. This distresses him greatly even as he is cuddled in his owner's arms once again, exhausted. The blindfold only ever comes out for the worst of his mistakes. When his master is angry with him. When a simple slap or two or a couple days without food isn't enough. The fact that it is still on even hours after he was finally allowed to beg for forgiveness — he just cannot relax. He supposes that's probably the reason why it's still on. He can’t just forget about what he did so easily with one round of torment. He hopes it will be taken off soon, but at the same time, he has no hope for it coming off in the coming days.

He doesn't even know if he has suffered enough yet. This small thing could very well signal that he will be atoning for this transgression for up to another month; just as long as he had spent away from here. The thought terrifies him enough to sob brokenly into his owner's chest, huddled up against him as he is. He’s rewarded with a light pet. He whispers a thank you.

The man pauses at that, causing his body to tense in preparation of more pain. Wonderfully, however, all that comes is more gentleness, a hand that has hurt him so many times now digging down to the roots of his hair and scratching in a pleasant rhythm. He has never been more thankful. The smallest of kindnesses from his owner are enough for him to forget all about the month of constant mercy from the old lady that took care of him unconditionally. Something must be wrong with him. He doesn't think about that for too long.

“I am so glad you came back,” — his master murmurs.

No one loves him like his master loves him. The old lady… was stupid. She was an idiot. Who would take in a stranger off the street, half-dead, and spoil him like she did? That's moronic. Her kindness — it doesn't matter. Any grain of sweetness from this man means more than a whole year of hers. He loves him. She was just a dumb old lady.

He feels awful for thinking this. His brain is at battle with his heart, trying to convince himself that this is what he is meant to be, that this is right, while feeling a dark emptiness building in his lungs.

Later, once his body is no longer useless and he can do as he is told, he does so. When he is told to clean, he cleans. When he is told to stay still, he stays still. When he is told to hold his breath, he holds his breath. Neither of them mention it. His owner doesn't tease him for falling back into old habits so soon. He doesn't even think to resist or think for himself. This is their norm. Nothing out of the ordinary. How it is supposed to be. Every night, he tells himself he is happy and loved. He feels his owner's arms around him, holding him close, pushing on his dark, painful bruises and he thanks him for allowing him to stay. His master tells him he loves him, and he smiles, saying the same thing.

And he means it.

~

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Taglist: @morning-star-whump @whumprince

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Unfamiliar

Things are finally gonna get LABBY boys, I’m fuckin excited. Also this got so fuckin long so I Apologize

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: noncon touching (like. a lot. but its unsexy), painful magical healing, unsexy nudity (bro just takes a shower it ain’t graphic), emeto mention, drugging, noncon surgery mention

PART II: Monster Without A Name

The things that hit him first were the brightness of the sun and the overwhelming heat. They had teleported into a sort of palace garden, similar to the one they had just left, but at the same time not similar at all. As Erebus was led away, he couldn’t help but look around in terrified fascination. Everything about this place was so different, from the color of the stones to the plants to the way people were dressed, making it clear just how far from home he was. He tried to focus on the allure of seeing so many new things instead of the feeling of isolation that was closing in on him. 

Erebus knew that every step he took would lead him closer to his fate, but honestly, all had been lost the moment he had arrived in Taiyorum, so he let Rhys pull him along. He tried to remember the way, but there were so many twists and turns and steps going down and unfamiliar sights that he quickly got lost. Eventually, they stopped in front of a door. “I think I’ve got him from here,” Neteri said, taking the leash from the guard, “thanks, Rhys.” He nodded and left them. Erebus steeled himself as Neteri opened the door and ushered him inside.

The cell was larger than the one in Nathar, and Neteri hadn’t lied when she’d said it would be nicer, but then again that wasn’t a very hard requirement to meet. It had a bed along the right-hand wall and a desk on the left, with a small chest of drawers against the back wall. There was a door at the foot of the bed, though Erebus couldn’t quite see what it led to. He was too caught up in looking around to notice what Neteri was doing until he felt something cold clamp around his ankle. Why had he been expecting not to be chained up again? At least it wasn’t his wrists, and he would’ve been mortified if she had just attached the leash to the wall. Thankfully, she removed both it and the rope around just wrists. He stretched, happy to have his arms free for the first time in days.

“Alright, let’s get you fixed up for good. Do you need help taking your shirt off?” Erebus shook his head and gently pulled it off before sitting down in one of the two chairs in the room. She sat across from him and held out her hand. “Let me do your arm first.” He offered it to her, and she held onto his wrist as she gently unwound the bandage. She inspected the wound and nodded before placing two fingers on one end of the gash. “I know this is gonna hurt, but please try to keep your arm as still as possible.” Erebus nodded, bracing himself as she muttered the spell’s activation word, her fingertips beginning to glow faintly. She traced them slowly down the wound, and he gritted his teeth as an intense, itching pain lit up his arm. Thankfully, it was over soon enough, but he knew there was still a lot more to come.

His back was next, and he couldn’t help but wince as she removed the bandages around his torso, partially because of the pain and partially because the brand hadn’t mysteriously disappeared overnight as he had hoped. She had him turn around, and he hugged the back of the chair tightly as she healed each lash, pressing his forehead against the wood and fighting to keep himself from crying out. It was like he was being whipped all over again, each wound burning with agony as it was closed up. Every time he thought she might be done, she placed her fingers on another wound and the pain came back anew. After what felt like hours, she finally stopped. “You did great, Erebus! I think that was the hardest part, so your chest shouldn’t be as bad. We’re almost there.” 

As far as the pain, she wasn’t exactly wrong. The healing of his chest was a little less intense, a little less itchy. But he had watched her start to trace the burns, daring to hope that the healing would erase them completely, and instead saw them morph into very prominent scars. He screwed his eyes shut, he couldn’t watch that symbol get put on him a second time. He gripped the sides of the chair tightly, reminding himself he wasn’t up on that podium, there weren’t hundreds of eyes trained on him, he wasn’t screaming in front of them all. When Neteri was finished, he pulled his shirt back on as quickly as he could, covering up the brand along with the memories.

“There we go! Now,” she stood and smoothed her skirt, “I have unpacking and whatnot to take care of, so I’ll be back in a few hours. In the meantime you can get yourself cleaned up.” She gestured to the closed door and then paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “You can, like, do that yourself, right?” Erebus nodded, giving her an odd look. He hadn’t been that pampered. She held her hands up defensively. “Okay, just making sure. Oh, and that chain is enchanted so clothes pass through it, which is great because that means you’re not stuck wearing the same pair of pants for forever! There should be clean clothes in there, by the way.” She pointed at the chest of drawers. “Alright I think that’s it. I’ll be back eventually.”

Once Neteri was gone, Erebus took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He was tempted to just bury his face in the pillow and cry and process everything, but he knew he needed to wash all the blood and dirt off himself first. The door Neteri had pointed to led to a small bathroom. His gaze went to the left first, where there was a sink with a mirror above it.

Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, Erebus flinched. It was the first time he’d seen himself since his capture, not that there was much left that he recognized. Gone was his long, beautiful hair, his fine clothes, his prince’s circlet, and the smile that he’d always worn so effortlessly. The person looking back at him was defeated, collared like an animal, his eyes filled with grief and dried blood smeared around his mouth. And while his short hair didn’t necessarily look bad, it still wasn’t him in the slightest. Maybe Erebus really had died two days ago, and this was just...some other person looking back at him. Unable to bear the sight anymore, he tore his gaze away and looked around the rest of the bathroom.

He didn’t see a bathtub, so he wasn’t exactly sure how Neteri expected him to wash himself. There was a drain in the floor near the wall across from the sink with a couple bottles of soap nearby. And there, on the wall, there was some sort of lever. He hesitantly pulled it, unsure if it was a door handle or what, and suddenly found himself being sprayed with water. He cried out and jumped back to find that the water didn’t follow him. It appeared to be coming out of an oddly shaped piece of metal protruding from the wall that he hadn’t noticed before. It was like...an intense little rainstorm. While part of him found this new technology interesting, the other part was disappointed he wouldn’t even get the comfort of a bath.

Regardless, he still wanted to get clean. He removed his now wet clothes and stepped back into the water. It was freezing cold, but he soon figured out that pulling the lever further down made the water warmer. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he started washing his hair. He’d always loved taking time to care for it, and now it barely took a minute. It shouldn’t be worth getting upset over, and he knew it would grow back, but he couldn’t help missing it. He just didn’t feel like himself without it. And as he moved onto washing his body, the feeling lingered.

Before he knew it he was scrubbing furiously, not just trying to get off the blood and grime, but the feeling of hands, ropes, chains, that he could still feel trapping him, forcing him towards this destiny he didn’t want any part of. But he couldn’t get it to go away, even as the physical reminders of his captivity washed off. No, that wasn’t entirely true either. His wrists were still chafed, his ankle was still chained to the wall, his chest was still branded, his neck still had that horrible collar around it, and his mouth was still very much missing a tongue. He couldn’t forget where he was or what had happened to him for a single second. 

At some point he’d gotten off everything he could, so pulled the lever to stop the little rainstorm and dried off with the towel hanging on a nearby hook. He pulled a clean set of clothes out of the chest of drawers and got dressed. They weren’t anywhere near as nice as what he was used to, but they were an improvement compared to what he’d had on before. He collapsed on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. This was it, huh? Day after day he was going to wake up here and go through...experiments. He shuddered, pushing the thought out of his mind. Dwelling on it would only make him upset, and did not want Neteri coming back and seeing him sobbing. He’d already cried in front of her once today, and that was pathetic enough. 

Upon searching the desk, he found a blank notebook and a pencil, so he busied himself with drawing cats and plants and writing his name. He was never the best artist, and people always told him the way he wrote the “r” in his name was strange, but it was something else to focus on. After a while, Neteri came back with a notebook of her own and looked at his scribblings with mild interest.

 “Was that left in the desk? Huh. Well, whatever. I’m going to need you to stand up and take your shirt off again.” Erebus simply leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s nothing painful, I just need to make some observations and take some measurements. And if you don’t cooperate I’ll just get Rhys again and we can take you down to the lab and strap you to the table.” She shrugged. “Either way.” Erebus sighed in defeat and did as she asked. He desperately wanted a break from being tied up and manhandled, and what Neteri wanted, even if it was a little humiliating, was harmless enough. At least it seemed that way, until she started.

Erebus had felt a bit objectified when Neteri had looked him over the first time that they met, but that was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. She was methodically scanning practically every part of him, making measurements and taking notes all the while. She grabbed and stroked and pulled and prodded with no regard whatsoever for his personal space. When she moved to study his chest, he leaned back, but she hooked a finger through the ring in his collar and pulled him close again. He shuddered as she ran her fingers over the brand, she had to be aware of how incredibly uncomfortable she was making him given the way she seemed to be writing down his every reaction. 

He thought that’d be the worst of it, but once again he thought that too soon. Neteri pushed him so he was seated on the bed and started studying his face. He tried to turn away, but she grabbed his chin and forced him to face her. There was nothing he could do but stare intently at the corner of the ceiling as she pried his mouth open, no doubt studying what remained of his tongue. She even ran a finger along his teeth, paying particular attention to his canines. He desperately hoped that whatever she had planned wouldn’t involve messing with them. She moved to his eyes next, pulling at his eyelids and turning his head to force him to look her in the eye. He gave up trying to avoid her gaze and stared back. The way she was looking at him...it was as if she didn’t see him, just his eyes and his face, but not Erebus. 

Suddenly, her eyes narrowed and she leaned back. “Why is your face so red? Wait...am I making you uncomfortable? I am, aren’t I?” Erebus instinctively smacked himself in the face with the palm of his hand, dragging it down a bit before nodding. She was looking at him that closely and just now noticed? What had she even been writing down, then? No, he didn’t want to know, he was certain it would just make him feel even more objectified. “Sorry, I just got sort of caught up in my note taking. I think I’ve got enough now. That was it for today so I’ll just...go.” Right then, as if on cue, Erebus’s stomach growled loudly.

“Oh wait, I haven’t fed you at all today, have I?” Erebus gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. “Shoot, sorry about that. I’ll run and get you something. Be right back!” She called over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room. Erebus sighed. Better late than never, but seriously? You’d think after how excited she was to...get ahold of him, she’d be a little more on top of things. His gaze fell on the notebook, and he belatedly realized he could’ve been using it to actually communicate with Neteri. The majority of the time he’d spent with her had been after... what she did to him...so being able to talk to her by any other means than making faces hadn’t even occurred to him. He spent a bit debating what he even wanted to say, but he eventually landed on a question he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answer to.

When Neteri came back, profusely apologizing for her oversight, he handed her the notebook before he started eating. She squinted at it. “Is this supposed to be the letter ‘r’?” He sighed and nodded. “Your handwriting is weird. Anyway, to actually answer your question of what’s going to happen to you...I think a lot of things we’re just going to have to play it by ear. Nothing beyond that’s set in stone beyond the fact that you’ve got your first procedure tomorrow.” Erebus jumped out of his chair, backing up a few steps. His first what was when??! “I probably shouldn’t have told you that because now you’re just going to freak out. You know what, I’m gonna go grab you something, so finish your food.”

Erebus shakily tried to do as Neteri asked while she was gone, but fear and nervousness were starting to make him feel ill. He forced down as much as he could, knowing he really needed the nutrients. The word procedure kept echoing in his mind over and over. He’d known she was planning on doing that sort of thing to him, but it had seemed like some vague, horrific future that wouldn’t come to pass, and suddenly it was happening tomorrow, and any hope of rescue had been ripped away, and it was inevitable, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow-

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, you’re gonna be okay.” He jumped as Neteri started stroking his back; he hadn’t even heard her come in. “There, there, let’s get you to bed.” She helped him stand and walked him over the bed, forcing him to lie down. “This will help you sleep, so drink it, okay?” she pressed a small vial of dark blue liquid to his lips. He hesitated a bit, but ultimately drank it. As much as he didn’t want tomorrow to come, he’d rather get whatever hellish thing she had planned over with instead of agonizing all night. He closed his eyes as drowsiness overtook him, trying his best to pretend that the person stroking his hair wasn’t going to cut him open tomorrow.

Next→

Tags:  @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @galaxywhump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies

[tanoraqui]

[continuation of this] [read on AO3]

There was no practical way to hide the fact that the Sunshot Campaign’s dread Yiling Patriarch was a homicidal amnesiac (a mad dog, they said, a crime and danger to keep around; leashed only by the Jiang siblings and Hanguang-jun, and how secure was that leash, anyway? Jiang Cheng held his head high and kept walking, because he didn’t have the time to deal with every little thing and he didn’t have a cogent counterargument.) 

How could it stay silent? He was still Wei Wuxian; he didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. He bounced around each night’s camp greeting people like they were new and asking what they were doing like they hadn’t done the same thing yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He flirted with Lan Wangji so outrageously that Jiang Cheng was starting to think the Second Jade really must love the idiot, to tolerate it all. He still remembered Jiang fighting forms, even though he couldn’t do them all without a golden core; he whined to be dragged out of bed and then helped Jiang Cheng train the new recruits every morning, even though not once did he remember their names. He didn’t remember Jiang Cheng’s name, or Jiang Yanli’s, or where they’d grown up or...anything. 

Sometimes he snapped in an instant from Wei Wuxian-typical smiling to something dark and cruel, and utterly heedless of political or other consequences. (So, exactly the same Wei Wuxian, a small, bitter part of Jiang Cheng muttered—no, that was what made it terrible. He so often kept smiling, too, almost the exact same smile.) Usually it was directed at the Wens, but more than one allied cultivator or mundane soldier died in cold blood because they said something rude—not so much to Wei Wuxian himself as to one of the people he “liked.” More to Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji than Jiang Cheng himself, which was just fine by Jiang Cheng—the less, the better. Nie Mingjue tolerated the losses as part of war, which meant Wei Wuxian stayed, but the only reason LanlingJin didn’t pull out of the Sunshot Campaign entirely was that Jin Zixuan himself insisted he forgave the strangulation incident.

It was inevitable that the enemy tried to take advantage of it.

From the ground it was like this: 

Jiang Cheng was in the thick of battle, wielding Sandu with no room for a whip, but that was fine because he had his disciples (new, all still new) around him to act as his second weapon and more. The Wens weren’t stupid: they came at him several at a time, hoping numbers could overwhelm his skill. He slashed at a red-robed fighter on his left, dodged a blow from his right, and pierced Sandu like a scorpion’s stinger through a man in front of him. Another strike came from the right and as he turned and brought up Sandu to block it, he thought, oh god, it’s contagious.

Because the cultivator was wearing Jiang purple (just an armband, but few of them had more than that), and yet he didn’t recognize her.

Then she tried to take his head off and he just barely parried, on reflex more than anything; the blade bit into his shoulder and he managed a clumsy riposte that bounced off her armguard. At the same time, he realized that he didn’t recognize her because she wasn’t one of his disciples. 

The haunting dizi music that Jiang Cheng had come to accept as natural background to a fight, that couldn’t possibly suffuse all the area of a busy battlefield and yet always did, slid abruptly into a furious shriek. Before his foe could push her advantage, the man he’d just killed flung himself onto her sword, pushing forward up the blade so he could tear at her face, Around them the other Wen dead sprang up as well—as did the fallen of YunmengJiang, an awkwardness they’d all resigned themselves to. Sometimes Wei Wuxian thought to let their own dead lie, but most of the time he didn’t, and most of the time no one minded much—it was desecration, but in the name of fighting the Wen even beyond the very end. 

But this time, they didn’t just attack the Wen. This time, the corpse of Liu Qingbiao, who had run away from her merchant parents to be a rogue and then Jiang cultivator, leapt from behind onto Huang Lao, who had taken up battle with the fighter on Jiang Cheng’s unguarded left. The Wen Huang Lao fought was torn down by one of his dead fellows; behind him, an unknown corpse with a purple armband ripped into another fighter in red. Around then, Wen and Jiang and not-Jiang turned furiously, awash with the dark smoke of resentful energy, on Wen and Jiang and not-Jiang. 

A small corpse guard settled in around Jiang Cheng himself: three Wens, Huang Lao, and another man he didn’t recognize with a bloody purple sash around his waist. 

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng bellowed. “What are you—”

He lunged out between two of his unwanted corpse guards to stop a live Wen soldier who would have struck Yu Shanmei, who fought with them because Yu Ziyuan had been her favorite aunt. A moment later, the soldier got back to its feet, black-eyed, and lunged for her again.

“Wei– fuck.” Jiang Cheng flung himself onto Sandu and took to the sky. Toward the ridge overlooking the battle. “STOP IT, YOU IDIOT! YOU’RE KILLING OUR PEOPLE!”

He waved his hands as he shouted, regardless of the dangerous silhouette he was presenting. He didn’t need to worry—one arrow flicked past him and the music changed again; deep and fast as an ocean current and shadows sprang up around him, half-substantial ghosts and tendrils of pure resentful energy. A sudden chorus of cries from the treeline was no doubt suddenly doomed archers.

The shadows only thickened as he approached the ridge, where the Yiling Patriarch stood alone. Wei Wuxian didn’t acknowledge him. His attention remained fixed on the nightmare of a battlefield, his terrible dizi at his lips.

Jiang Cheng landed directly in front of him and yanked the dizi down. “Wei Wuxian, stop!”

There was a moment (there was always a moment) in which he thought Wei Wuxian wouldn’t recognize him. His eyes were as dark as the dead’s and his face showed nothing but implacable cold. By a narrow margin, Jiang Cheng’s heartbreak beat out his awareness that he was likely about to die.

Then Wei Wuxian blinked, some of the darkness receding, at least enough to show the whites of his eyes. He lowered the dizi another inch of his own accord (Jiang Cheng had barely been able to drag it down to shoulder height, even though he was still pulling. Wei Wuxian was weak without his golden core, but the shadows that wreathed him lent him plenty of strength.)

“Are you alright?” he asked, worried like Jiang Cheng had just hit his head on the dock, and nothing worse. He raised one hand to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

Jiang Cheng batted it away. “Stop the corpses!” he shouted. “You’re killing YungmengJiang—” Wei Wuxian remained silent, watched him curiously; names, fuck, names. “The people in purple! You idiot, stop killing them!”

They had so few people to lose. Yu Shanmei was likely already down, unable to perform her best without room to snap a whip. Han Lingya was already recovering from a wound in her arm; Jiang Cheng should never have let him on the field today in the first place. He’d have to write to Liu Qingbiao’s parents, and Huang Lao’s, and Shen Chiwu and Wen Sichen (no relation) and Xi Yanji (they’d get him on the backstroke; he always left himself open—) Jiang Cheng couldn’t look down at them or he’d be lost; he just had to shake his death-eyed, half-gone brother until he stopped—

Wei Wuxian’s hand had come away with some of Jiang Cheng’s blood on it. He licked it off one finger, glancing away like a child who knew he’d done wrong. But when he looked back, his expression was familiarly mulish, save for all the dark and cold.

“They started attacking you. Someone lied to me. I know some of them are our fighters, but I can’t tell which ones, so it’s safer to just kill them all.” 

It was funny because less than a year ago, Jiang Cheng would’ve been quietly ecstatic to be the absolute center of one person’s devotion. Not, admittedly, that he had that dubious honor even now—Wei Wuxian remembered Jiang Yanli better than anyone else, since that terrible night with the sliced wrist, but she was safe at base camp (thank fuck), and even Lan Wangji was with the forces at the other end of the valley.

“I know which ones!” Jiang Cheng snapped (begged). “And so do the ones who are actually Jiang Sect! Just—” they might be equally lost if the corpses stopped completely; they were still wildly outnumbered—“focus on the people in red! A-jie– your shijie would want you to leave the people in purple to sort themselves out!”

Wei Wuxian pouted, with a edge of real disappointment (he only ever seemed truly content anymore when he was slaughtering whole battlefields). “All right.”

He raised his dizi again (Jiang Cheng let go), and after a shuddering moment, Jiang Cheng forced himself to turn around around and watch. There were half as many YunmengJiang cultivators standing as there had been when he’d left, and a quarter as many mundane troops—well, standing and alive. Almost all were upright. It was too far to pick out individuals, but he could tell from the fighting style—he’d been training them all himself for months.

Their dead turned their focus back to the Wen troops in red, as did the Wen corpses themselves, and Jiang Chang let out a breath for what felt like the first time in several minutes. He fought to steady it, to calm his fluttering qi and push it into his shoulder to heal, while beside him, the Yiling Patriarch finished the battle.

It didn’t take long. It had already been hitting the critical point of dead overwhelming the living, before this terrible interlude. Jiang Sect’s fighters knew each other, cultivator and mundane alike; they dealt easily with the few remaining imposters.

As the battle died down (ha), there was a cloth-on-rock scraping to their left. Jiang Cheng turned to see a trio of long-nailed female ghosts—some of Wei Wuxian’s favorites—dragging forward the bloody remains– no, the bloody body of a still-living man. Though from the ghost women’s giggles, he wouldn’t be alive for along. Certainly he must already wish he was dead.

He had a Jiang-purple cloth tied around his left bicep. Jiang Cheng squinted at him, as the ghost women dropped their prize at their master’s feet, and didn’t recognize his face. Ropes of shadow wrapped around the man, cutting more lines of blood into his skin.

Wei Wuxian didn’t stop playing until the last red-robed Wen on the battlefield was dead, his eyes dark and his expression cold. It didn’t change as he left a few notes lingering in the air and looked down at the shadow-bound prisoner. 

He bumped Jiang Cheng’s shoulder with his own like they were kids walking streets of Lotus Pier. “This is the one who came and told me there were reinforcements joining you from the rear, and to clear them a path. The ladies confirm it. Do you know him?”

“No,” said Jiang Cheng, just as cold.

“Well then.” Wei Wuxian nearly sang. The ropes that spread out from his shadow yanked their prisoner to his feet. The man’s mouth was gagged with twisting darkness; his eyes were bleeding but wide with fear. 

Wei Wuxian smiled brightly and tipped the man’s chin up with the end of his dizi. “I can be patient, you know. We can ask him questions before I tear him apart.”

[thedevildomdaily]

Demonic Possessions Ch 2: Getting A Little Cozy

NOTE: Sorry about the delay. Had an unexpected guest I had to babysit. I also couldn’t stop writing this. I had no idea where to stop this chapter lol.

Warnings: None, just a little language. I

“Pftssss…” Lena had to cover her mouth with both hands quickly. The badass demons everyone on Earth feared were a bunch of bratty children! The nephilim wanted desperately to film the scene and share with her brothers. They wouldn’t believe her if she told them about this.

Lilly rolled her eyes and sighed as she begrudgingly went on into the room to join the chaos. She then patted the empty seat beside her for Lena. Of course the guys didn’t even pause in their antics at the arrival of their new guest.

The remaining seat available for Leviathan was on the other side of Lena. It seemed he would be stuck beside the 3D nephilim for eternity at this rate. He sat down, focusing on his phone, trying to rapidly tap on it while reaching towards his food.

“You’re going to pay me back for my property AND you’re going to retrieve it.” Satan responded. Lena thought he looked like he was going to snap at any moment given the giant vein on his forehead. She didn’t envy Mammon being the target of his rage.

Lucifer started to eat, but hesitated to say, “Mammooooon…” Which instantly caused the loud demon to melt into his seat to sulk. The eldest resumed his meal, ignoring the death stares still being shot at him by Belphegor.

“This looks delicious.” Lena finally spoke. The commotion, all of the food, the smells; All of it had been overwhelming and she didn’t realize she hadn’t tried anything yet. It was definitely colorful, and somewhat intimidating. She absolutely would not question the ingredients, let alone the nutrition facts. Wait, do they even have Nutrition Facts in the Devildom? 

Asmodeus had sat down, giving up on Beelzebub’s inability to control himself. When Lena spoke up, he gave her a sweet smile, “Oh it is. And it is super healthy. I wanted you to get to taste something wonderful for your first meal in the Devildom.”

“That’s sweet of you, thanks.” Lena chimed with a huge grin before digging in. “Damn this is sooooo good!” Her piercing blue eyes widened with excitement. No wonder the bigg’un over there was wolfing the stuff down. Her reaction caught a few of them off guard and nobody confessed that Asmo merely ordered the food. He solely focused on the presentation. 

It did get a few under-the-breath chuckles from a few of them as Asmodeus beamed at her response, “Oh thank you hun. I knew you’d like it. You seem to have good taste...you’re brothers too.” He was referring to the fashion they were wearing. He also noticed the fine quality of her luggage before. It looked quite expensive.

Lena chuckled, “Haha...Azri trained me well. We share a love of fashion...and shopping. I really need to do some shopping as soon as possible…” It was more of a note to herself out loud, but the beauty guru of a demon lit up with excitement, “Oh let me take you! Lilly we have to show her Majolish!”

Lilly joined in with equal amounts of excitement, “Yes we gotta. And it sounds like Azri should tag along too.” 

“NO!” Lena responded louder than she meant to. Lucifer actually stared at her for a moment. “I mean uh, not this time...he and I may have a few disagreements...when it comes to expenses.” There were a few demons at the table who could understand that. Pretty much Lucifer and Satan were the only responsible shoppers in the room. And of course Lucifer tried to keep a tight leash on his little brothers’ shopping expenses.

“I do need a few immediate room amenities ASAP.” Lena continued, “After Levi wrestled down all of those sheets, dust and cobwebs went all over the place. It’s a hot mess...and not in the good time.” that got a laugh out of Asmo and Lilly, “And I have no sheets, pillows, or a comforter...and I some furniture for my clothes...they’re all packed away still…”

“Awe! That’s no good! You can’t let your clothes get dusty!’ Asmo covered his mouth. He couldn’t imagine living in a room so dusty. It made him want to skip dinner and head directly to his luxurious bathtub. “Lena, you can sleep with me tonight?” Of course he was all smiles and eager to offer that.

“Asmo. Yer just being a perv.” Mammon commented, pausing his sulk-eating. 

Lilly shook her head, “I’m lending her a set of my sheets and a pillow for tonight. And did you show her the Akuzon app Levi? She can quickly order some cool furniture to be sent here in no time.”

The otaku demon looked up from his phone, “Yeah, I showed her Akuzon. We ordered some manga and wall scrolls and…” Leviathan proceeded to list 30 unnecessary anime or gaming-related items.

“What the hell! Did you just order that for yourself?!” Mammon exclaimed. He thought his brother went on a wild spree with Akuzon again. A rather bold assumption coming from the Avatar of Greed himself.

“No no no no!” Lena laughed, “He gave me a few recommendations, and then I saw a few things I liked. I'm a huge fan of gaming and manga myself.” Mammon, Asmo, and Lilly blinked with surprise. Great, there was another one amidst them.  “Hey, don’t judge me! They are great art forms and there is such a plethora of dynamic stories you couldn’t experience in any other media. I would also like to add that I am a freelance artist on the side and I focus on anime and gaming characters…”

Leviathan stared at Lena for a moment in awe of her ‘speech’. Where everyone else understood that she was just conversing about the subject, the indigo-haired demon saw her standing at a podium, giving an academy award-winning performance and he fought the urge to clap.

“Ah, gotcha.” Mammon responded. The other two nodded.

“Hey! Why did you guys just nod when she spoke passionately about those things, but when I say anything, you give me such crap you normies!” he scrunched his nose at his brothers in particular.

“Because she didn’t try to ramble incoherently about it for an eternity or bog us down with unimportant details Levi…” Asmodeus shrugged.

“Awe...I’m sorry…” Lena patted his shoulder, feeling bad for Leviathan, “I’ll listen to your rambles anytime.” Leviathan sighed and shrunk down for a moment, then realized that the female nephilim was patting him. A girl. Touching him. Repeatedly!

“WAAAAAGH! NooOoooOO!” Leviathan rose like a vampire from a coffin, out of his chair, and ran from the room. Everyone laughed at the scene. Even Lucifer ‘covered his mouth to cough’ at the same moment.

Lena merely chuckled sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to make him so uncomfortable...I guess I’m a little too chummy…”

“No. Leviathan is just…” Lilly tried to find the right words for it, “well he refers to himself as a shut-in. He always freaks out about body contact. Pretty much with just about anyone…” Though she knew Lena’s case was a little different and couldn’t help but chuckle.

~

When dinner was over, the house members scattered. Lena went with Mammon and Asmodeus to Lilly’s room to hang out and further discuss shopping plans. Levi didn’t respond when Mammon banged on his door to join them. It was nice to be getting along well enough with a few of the brothers already. The nephilim didn’t feel as welcomed earlier that day as she was now.

“This looks cool!’ she said as she approached the tree, “I can’t say I’ve seen a huge tree just growing in someone’s bedroom before. Are Poison Ivy or something?” Lena chuckled and sat on the side of the bed.

“Well, she and I do have a few things in common, not gonna lie…”Lilly responded as she joined her new friend. 

“So, are we gonna go shopp’n after class tomorrow?” Mammon scratched his head, looking a bit uncomfortable as he sat on the couch, “I may have to ditch last period if I’m gonna go too.”

This made a huge smirk spread across Asmo’s glossy lips, “Ah, trying to avoid paying our Dear Satan your check tomorrow by spending it all with us?” The question caused his older brother to blush and furrow his brows, embarrassed and angry that he got caught. 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin about. I just feel like getting a head start…”

Lilly exchanged looks with Asmo, then Lena. “You know that’s bullshit, right?”

“100%. I just arrived here today and I can read you like a book dude.” Lena gave Mammon a devilish grin.

Great, now the new girl was joining in on the ‘let’s pick on Mammon brigade. It’s bad enough when his little brothers and best friend did it, but her? Crossing his arms, the greedy demon refused to respond to her remark.

“While I do love poking fun at my scummy big brother,” Asmo chimed, “I do want to resume our discussion from earlier. What are we ever going to do about you in that filthy attic room?” Lilly joined in at the concern. “Why don’t you store your clothing in my closet until your furniture arrives from Akuzon? Lilly did the same thing.”

“That would be great, actually, I was kind of concerned about wrinkles and creases...and my brother vaporizing me over it.” Azri was the chillest guy out there, but fuck with his clothes and he was a 6’4”, fire-breathing maniac with claws. 

“And as for sleeping arrangements, I do really think you should consider sleeping in my room with me.” Asmo added. Immediately Mammon and Lilly glared at him.

Lena wasn’t an idiot; she knew he was clearly the Avatar of Lust. The right amount of narcissism, the insistence of closeness, and the weariness of everyone around him. She was also a big girl that could take care of herself. Even if he was a demon of seduction. “You know what? I’m game. If you have a clean, comfy bed I will crash it.”

The other two just looked dumbfounded at her, while Asmodeus closed his eyes and grinned. “Oh this will be lovely. We can do nightly facials and I’ll braid that beautiful silvery hair of yours. Maybe we can take a bath together?”

“Hmm...I might forgo that bath...for now.” Lena responded, “but the rest of that sounds delightful after this incredible fucking journey. My day wasn’t going well before I arrived, and then I’ve been a little overwhelmed by...well, EVERYTHING I’ve seen since we got here.”

“Are you sure about this? My brother’s a little perv…” Mammon’s arms were crossed again and he looked genuinely concerned. He didn’t want to be strung upside down somewhere by Lucifer again for not at least warning the girl. They were also supposed to be cautious with the nephilim until they learned more about them at least. Lucifer’s orders.

Lena yawned, unphased by the older demon’s concerns, “Maybe I am too?” She gave a sly expression at Mammon, making him blush and look away, pretending not to be. “I think you guys have some misconceptions about nephilim. Just because we are half angels, doesn’t mean we are highly virtuous and prudish.” She grinned, reflecting on the trouble she and her brothers have caused over the centuries. “I mean, we have more morals than demons, that’s for sure, but our feelings are so intensely human and we’re considered flawed for it. We’re whimsical, passionate, reckless, and live life to the fullest. And we suffer for it too.” 

The others in the room were quiet, reflecting on what she said. Mammon admittedly thought she and her brothers may be a bit innocent-like. Even older angels like Simeon tended to be. He and his brothers were once before. Asmo shared that sentiment as well, but was delighted knowing for sure that Lena wasn’t.

Standing up, Lena yawned again and stretched before she walked over to Asmodeus with an extended hand to help him up, “I’m really tired after eating so much tonight. Don’t we have to get up early tomorrow? I wanna rest ‘cause I am a horrible monster to wake up in the morning.”

Asmodeus took her hand; it was as soft as his. He blushed with delight and excitement. “Yes, we’d better get our beauty sleep! You too; the both of you!” Lilly was something of a muse for Asmo when designing and consulting Majolish with petite creatures in mind and his big brother did a lot of modeling.

~

The demon’s bedroom was so pretty and feminine. And it smelled wonderfully. The bed looked as soft and comfortable as she’d imagined it to bed. “Asmo, are you sure you’ve fallen? ���Cause this room looks heavenly after doing all that dusting!” she stepped out of her shoes quickly and sprung for the bed, eager to touch the cozy comforter. “You weren’t kidding about this.”

There was a chuckle from Asmo, not taking offense to the comment at all. She was genuinely excited. Mimicking a feline, he walked slowly towards the nephilim. ‘I never kid about luxury and beauty darling.” He reached for Lena’s hair, pulling it all behind her. It was as silky as he imagined. She didn’t withdraw from him, good. He ran his fingers slowly through her locks before suggesting they went over to his vanity.

They both gazed in the mirror together. She looked drowsy, he was only a little. “I am so curious about you nephilim. I never met one personally until today.” He picked up a brush and began running it through her hair before putting it into a braid. Everything he did was in a rather intimate way, yet Lena never gave a reaction beyond her tiredness. 

“There’s honestly not a lot to be curious about.” Lena responded. She loved when others played with her hair and it was quite common for Azri to braid hers so no tangles got in it. He was more concerned by it than she was. That Mother Hen. “You really can ask me anything. You all can. We are transparent; we literally can’t lie. That’s the stupid angelic trait we all share. At best we can simply not answer you. That being said, and simply because we three are scorpios, we fucking hate lies. Don’t. *clap* Do. *clap* It. We sense that shit miles away.” She made Asmo laugh uncontrollably as she gave instances where exes got their cars destroyed or a garden gnome’s decapitated head through their bedroom window on the 5th story of an apartment. They were definitely far from angelic. Definitely emotional creatures to say the least.

“Lena. I think you and your brothers will really like it here in the Devildom. Your..passionate natures can run wilder here than it possibly could in the human world.” When he finished her hair, Asmo lifted the end and smelled it in a sensual way. “You can put your jewelry here. I promise it’s safe from my scumbag brother, Mammon. There’s a curse on this box specifically targeting him. Solomon created it.

“Oh did he now?” That got her attention. Her brow was raised as she looked at it. It did have the elaborate designs he fancied. “So you’re one of his..contracted?” 

Asmo nodded as he retrieved the night masks they agreed to apply once their make-up was removed. “Yes. We have a contract. He’s such an interesting human; I couldn’t resist him.”

Lena chuckled, “Trust me, I know. Been there…” This time Asmo was brought to attention.

“Are you one of his…?” he asked carefully. “Hell no! I wasn’t one of his 300 wives or 700 concubines...or is it vice versa? Any no. We did have a wild time together during the renaissance period in Italy. I’m not easily tamed and we were just ‘having fun’.”

Asmo beamed, wanting to know all of the juicy details. “Oh I’ve got some stories for you, darling. But then again he has plenty on me so you’d better not say anything to anyone else, got it!” Lena gave him a serious expression with the mask on, making him chuckle, but agreed not to tell. “I can promise pinky. Lilly explained how important a tradition it is. Heavier than a blood oath!’  

The nephilim started at him blankly. This was one of those times where she just had to avoid the truth. No comment. No problem. She shared the pinky promised the demon and they continued getting ready, spilling little stories along the way. Then came time to change clothes.

The demon leant her an oversized t-shirt that smelled like citrus, because Lena wasn’t going all of the way back to the dusty attic after getting nice and clean. She began removing her shirt, not thinking anything of Asmo being in the room.

“Oh my!” he said with wide eyes, “how bold you are, tempting me like this.” He turned away blushing, but held quite the smile. He thought of how much fun they might have in time.

Lena chuckled, “Sorry, I’m used to changing in front of others. Dorm life; fashion life; party life.” Her bra was tossed aside only after she put the shirt on and slid her ripped jeans off. Asmo changed in his giant bathroom. 

He emerged where cute, cyan pajamas that made Lena giggle, “You look so cozy.”

“And you look cute, yet seductive.” he chimed back as he headed to pull back the comforter. He insisted that Lena got in first, and to get comfortable. She followed the suggestion, then decided it was best to place a pillow between them, just to set things straight. She didn’t mind flirting around with him, but she had a little apprehension and self-control. 

He wanted to pout at the dividing pillow. Lilly did the same thing, which was no fun. He wanted to at least snuggle with her, feel her curves that filled-out his shirt. They laid beneath the top sheet and comforter, facing one another with smiles. “Good night Asmo. Thank you for the delicious first dinner, volunteering to go shopping with me tomorrow, and letting me crash here.”

“You’re welcome Darling. And thank you for sharing some candid Solomon stories. I’ll cherish them forever!” They both laughed and the demon watched as Lena drifted off into her dream world. It was really quite something. She had all of the trust in the world in him not to try something with her. He was always used to apprehension and it took forever for Lilly to fully trust in him.

He found himself wanting to run his fingers against the edge of her soft, porcelain face and hair as she slumbered. Asmodeus refrained, but continued to watch over her until he too fell into a deep sleep.

~

The sound of some odd alarm clock started buzzing, causing Lena to groan and bury her face under a pillow. It was strange. It smelled like lavender and honey. She didn’t recall trying any new perfumes lately. And she didn’t have one of her witchy ladies crash.

“Good morning Darling.” she heard a songbird voice chime. It was so close to her; TOO CLOSE! The nephilim quickly rose, clutching the pillow beside her in a panic. It was obvious that she forgot all that had transpired the night before. Lena was totally lost, having no recollection of entering this “Better Homes Than Yours”-looking bedroom.

Her eyes darted straight over to the owner of that voice: a “pretty boy” type. He had a seductive smirk as he stared up at her. He was clothed, though his pajama shirt was completely unbuttoned. It made her instinctively look to see what she was or wasn’t wearing.

The nephilim’s antics caused Asmodeus to chuckle lightly. He knew exactly what was going on in her head. He’d seen it happen so many times: The panic of waking up in a stranger’s bed. The Avatar of Lust never got bored watching this scenario play out. He was highly curious about what Lena thought had happened. “What’s wrong Darling? You look a little lost…” He decided he would have a little fun with her.

“I uhm…” was all Lena could manage to respond with. Her hair was braided, yet the top was completely frizzed. Her eyes widened when the stranger reached towards her. “Did we…?” It wouldn’t be her first time, by a long shot, but she felt completely refreshed instead of her normal hung over status after an ONS. 

“Did we what Lena, Darling?” Asmo asked, playing coy. He was loving this. What naughty thoughts was she having about him? She froze, looking at his open shirt. He looked so hot laying like that. She’d be very proud of herself if she didn’t in fact jump his bones the night before.

“You know…” she said, slightly embarrassed, “bump uglies…”

“There is most certainly nothing ‘ugly’ about me Darling.” he responded, giving her a wink. He let her process that for a moment, watching her sigh and throw herself back on the bed, covering her face with her hands. He knew he was on the edge of taking things too far, and decided to stop with the charade.

Leaning really close to her, Asmodeus whispered in Lena’s ears, “As much as it would’ve been, we only did facials and went to sleep.” He chuckled softly as he saw her ear turn pink.

“Eeeergh!” Lena gritted her teeth and popped the side of his hip, as he was casually lounging on his side, embarrassing the hell out of her. “You are fucking aweful!” She kicked around, pouting.

Asmo chuckled more, loving being able to see her like this. She was absolutely adorable in this state. He totally saw why Solomon would try to fool around this dangerous beauty. He didn’t react, but that swat actually hurt a little. “As much as I want to keep snuggling-up in bed and tease you, we really need to start getting ready for class. You do NOT want Lucifer on your case, especially so early in the morning.”

Remembering she had to go to school made Lena groan even more. “Damn it! I don’t wanna Asmo...it’s too early!” 

~

It took awhile for the two of them to get dressed, followed by hair and make-up. Asmodeus couldn’t resist getting to make-over someone after getting himself dolled-up. It was clear that Lena was used to it, holding perfectly still and moving about just right. She explained that she modeled for her brother, Azriel, quite often.

When they were ready, both Lena and Asmo exited his room, giggling about some joke she’d told about Solomon. It just so happened that Levi and Satan were walking down the corridor to witness this.

Of course, neither of them knew about the sleeping arrangement, and thought exactly the wrong thing. “Oh, good morning guys. What do you think? Am I RAD material?” the nephilim asked, showing off her school uniform. She felt rather silly wearing a uniform. Her school didn’t require one, focusing on individuality and expression more. 

Satan merely stared at her, blinking. He wasn’t sure what this situation was, nor how to respond. “Uhm, it suits you well..” he cleared his throat a bit. Asmo was such a clever little demon, knowing what his older brothers thought and continued to play games. He reached out and took Lena’s hand. “It does, doesn’t it!?”

Leviathan’s face was red, but he looked otherwise rather deadpan. He gave no response, but instead walked right past his younger brothers and the nephilim. It was a curious reaction to both Lena and Satan. She assumed he just wasn’t a morning person.The three followed after Leviathan downstairs to the dining room table.

 It was Mammon’s day for cooking. He’d gone the waffle route, making it quick and easy. The was beast bacon, hellfire bumble bee syrup, and fresh fruits of The Devildom. “You guys are gonna spoil me with all this delicious food.” She chimed and gave her compliments to “Chef Big Money Mammon” which caused him to blush and go tsundere on her.

“You don’t eat like this at your place?” Beelzebub asked, before swallowing what she was sure to be an entire waffle whole. 

Blinking for a second in disbelief, she quickly shook her head, “Nah, we had a cafeteria at Belmont. We’re too much in a hurry to enjoy a setdown meal in the mornings. Too many things to do on our agendas. That and Azriel forbids sugary foods, especially during the most important meal of the day.”

“There’s only one important meal?” Beel asked, swallowing even more food.

Lilly laughed, “I told you we believe breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It sets your energy and mood.” Lena nodded as she began to take her seat.

‘Oh Lena, Darling,” Asmo chimed, “I might have to agree with your brother about eating too much sugar at breakfast. Your skin is so soft and smooth…..(paused for effect), I don’t want you to get any acne flare-ups. Especially after I spoil you with the latest line from Majolish.”

Okay, the sneaky 5th brother was really having some fun with his implications. Though everyone really did jump to conclusions quickly. And what made things even more suspicious was the way Lena didn’t react to him or get embarrassed.

“Today, Asmo DARLING, I will make an exception to the dietary rules thwarted upon me.” she replied, “Mammon took time to fix me a plate and I intend on enjoying it. Besides, it’s a part of my learning experience. Cuisine speaks volumes for culture anywhere you go.”

The second eldest brother couldn’t help but smile to himself at the appreciation for the food he made. It was unexpected coming from a stranger. “Yeah, don’t waste that food. I got up early to get it ready!”

There were jokes flying around the room about ‘chef Mammon’ with a lot of laughter. Even Belphegor, who was still in sulk mode, took the time to thank him for ‘slaving over the waffle iron’ for everyone. The only one that didn’t seem to joke around was Leviathan. He was quietly focusing on his phone as usual.

“Enough, everyone. It’s time to leave.” Lucifer announced. There were a few sighs that followed. Beelzebub quickly crammed as much as he could in his mouth as his twin began to push him towards the exit. “Beel, you should be good til lunch…” he murmured sleepily.

Lena was actually excited to share her first night experiences with her brothers and learn about how they fared. She didn’t text them anything besides ‘good night lub you!’. She’d rather see the expressions on their faces.

~

On the way to the Academy, Lena walked up beside the 3rd eldest; her ‘keeper’ she decided to call him. “Hey, are you playing the same Otome today?”

Leviathan froze for a moment, then continued to play. “No, I’m playing an action RPG…” He didn’t seem enthusiastic, nor did he seem focused on the game either. It puzzled Lena, so she kept on with the conversation, “I like those. The Marvel Alliance is my favorite.” 

She could see a struggle in him. It was like he wanted to ask about it, but held back. What was his deal? Since he wanted to know, obviously, she went ahead and continued, “So it's all of the characters in the whole Marvel universe. It’s random what good guy characters or bad guys you get, but you draw random ones, build your team that are good against certain types of enemies, and level em up. It’s got decent story lines, and it’s cool you can play as bad guys too...it’s just. I really hate the ‘pay to play’ games that get you into gambling away your money for the characters you want.”

He glanced at Lena out of the corner of his eyes as she spoke. She really was the only person he knew that could ramble on about games like he could. Well not as much as him. He was the king otaku here after all. 

“Are you by chance upset with me?” Lena asked, “I figured you’d at least share your opinion of the whole pay-to-play thing…” she had a tuition for these things and hated feeling awkward around people, especially ones she’d be around a lot. 

At first Leviathan was going to dodge her question, then Asmodeus called to the nephilim to ‘hurry up’ to walk with him. It made him grit his teeth. “NO! Why would a shut-in otaku care about a 3D girl getting a little cozy with Asmo!?” He shouted at Lena and stormed on ahead of  everyone.

Lena felt the eyes upon her. Not only did the fellow House of Lamentation members look at her for answers, but other RAD students gathering about the school grounds who witnessed the scene as well.

The nephilim facepalmed as Lilly joined her at one side, with Asmodeus at the other. “What was that all about?” 

[winchest09]

A Man’s Best Friend - Chapter One

Pairing:  Dean Winchester x Reader (eventually) / Dog!Dean x Reader (platonic owner/pet kinda deal)

Universe:  Canon. Set in the episode Dog Dean Afternoon (Season 9)

Rating: 15+ W/C: 4671

Warnings: swearing, lil angst, crack (?),  lil fluff if you squint. 

A/N: So...the new mini series is here! This was a request from the beautiful Dawnie. She chose the puppy square from my Ringo Challenge! I hope you all enjoy the adventure I’m about to take you all on! This has been so much fun to write. 

Special thanks to this absolute babe @katehuntington for being my beta <3 You’re an absolute worldie and I love ya!

Love you all.

xox

– I absolutely adore your reactions, so please if you do read; reblog, comment or send me an ask and let me know how you feel! It means the world to me.

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Let me know what you think!

——————————————–  Chapter One ——————————————– 

Well shit.  

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. It was meant to be an easy and quick get away, yet here he was, stuck in an alleyway. Dean was frustrated, his teeth baring as he tried to focus on how the hell he was going to get out of this predicament. He needed to get back to Sam, he needed his little brother to help him undo whatever the hell had been done to him.  

It was a simple spell, one that should have allowed Dean to communicate with animals, that should have allowed him to have a conversation with the only witness of a crime that was his case. At first, the spell did the job it was intended to do. He was able to talk to all animals and got the information he needed, but on his way back to meet his brother, his stomach started to twist. He felt as though all his bones were being crushed then reformed, his skull splitting while his spine shortened. He wanted to scream yet the transformation didn’t allow it. He felt every crack, every snap and before he knew it, the spell had morphed him into a full grown American Pit Bull. Four big paws, a light brown nose and a long tail came tumbling out of his clothes that were now piled on the asphalt. Dean’s new heightened senses overwhelmed him and he found himself attempting to run back to the motel where his brother was residing, however he’d gotten lost in the alleys, unaware of which way to turn. When he frantically tried to get past a stack of empty boxes and garbage bags, he hadn’t seen the cluster of barbed wire. Before he knew it, he was tangled up in the torturous mess of sharp metal; the more he moved, the tighter it got. 

To make matters worse, it was hammering down with rain. His fur was soaked through and paws cold from the growing puddle beneath him. Dean’s shivers were visible to passers by that looked straight past him, either oblivious or not wanting to risk their safety for a trapped dog. His throat was becoming sore from the wire and for the first time in a while, Dean was feeling hopeless.  

Of all the ways I thought I'd go, this wasn't it, Dean thought as his green eyes stared hopelessly at the sidewalk not too far from him, a metal mesh fence being the only obstacle that blocked him from the public. 

Feeling colder by the minute, Dean had started to whimper. He hadn’t got the energy to try to shout, or bark, in this case. All he could muster was soft, small cries as he stared through the mesh. He hoped his little brother would find him, he hoped that by some miracle he had realised that the spell had further effects than what they thought. His head began to hang low, his eyes now trained on his new reflection in the puddled water beneath as he felt his energy beginning to dwindle. He was starting to tune out the sounds around him, wanting to focus on his own thoughts instead of the nearby traffic. 

It was then that a small yet bright light flickered over him. If he blinked, he would have missed it. He lazily lifted his head, allowing his nose to sniff the air slightly as he tried to work out what was happening. Through the darkness, he noticed a figure standing at the fencing, fingers wrapping through the holes in the wire as they tried their hardest to move it. The sound of the metal scraping along the sidewalk echoed down the empty alleyway before that small yet bright light came back to shine down on him. It blinded him slightly, a mixture of curiosity and panic rising from within him as he started to hear light footsteps edging closer towards him. It took a moment for him to focus but Dean was soon able to see who was approaching him. It was a woman.  

He watched how her pace slowed, his eyes still trying to make out her features through the darkness, his nose tentatively sniffing at the air to try and work out who was in front of him. As she got closer still, Dean's worry grew. She could be anything; a demon, a shifter, a werewolf. His mind was spinning but he knew he didn’t want to be cornered, he didn’t want it to end like this; he had to fight. He bared his teeth and let out a low growl, all the while trying his hardest to pull at the barbed wire, the metal scratching into his fur and skin. It made him wince, the struggle becoming even more painful. It was then that he noticed her holding her hands up in surrender, the light in which she was using was coming from her phone which was wedged between her thumb and forefinger.   

“Hey, hey, woah now,” she soothed, trying to calm him down as he panicked, the wire tightening even more around his neck. “It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you,” she assured, her hands coming slowly towards his face.   

You’re damn right you won’t, lady. I’ll bite your arm off. Dean felt the low growl rumble in the back of his throat, but this didn’t deter the woman in front of him, who was calmly approaching. She brought the light from her phone closer to Dean and he could only assume that she was assessing the situation. 

“Has some cruel asshole left you here, huh? Or did you get yourself into this mess?” she asked him, getting close enough so he could see the rain dripping from the end of her nose. 

 Just undo me so I can find my brother, he thought, although his normal gruff voice came out a howl. He watched as she placed her phone down to the side, the light shining on the barbed wire wrapped around his neck, as her hands came to gently pat his head. He was hesitant, flinching slightly at the contact she was giving him.  

“Come on, easy, easy,” she spoke calmly, her fingertips running over the wire that had rendered him immobile. Dean watched how she concentrated, how she analysed the situation before she made her move. Slowly but surely, he felt the wire loosen from around his neck, the pain subsiding as she lifted it over his head. Dean quickly moved out of the puddle as soon as he could, shaking his paws to try and get them dry. There’s nothing worse than wet feet. 

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you out of this rain and get some food into you.” Her voice made Dean stop what he was doing and look at her. She was standing now, waiting with a soft smile as she gazed down at him with what appeared to be a makeshift leash in her hand. His mind questioned what would be the smarter thing to do here. Does he bolt? Or go with the woman who appeared to be offering him sanctuary? He needed to get back to his brother to sort this mess out but then he had no idea where he would even start. He needed to be logical about this, he needed time to think all of this through properly but standing here in the rain was making it difficult. If he accepted her offer, that rope leash would be around his neck and there would be no escaping her if it was a trap. But seeing her standing there, patiently waiting for him to come around in his own time, made Dean think that maybe she wasn’t a threat. Maybe she was just an innocent bystander that was willing to help a stray dog.  

If only she knew the truth, he mentally scoffed to himself. Here goes nothing.  

Taking a tentative step towards her, he sniffed the hand she offered him. With his new found sniffer, he would be able to smell sulfur from a mile away, however she smelled like honey and pecan; she smelt divine. Dean became calm, as if his senses were telling him that she was safe, that he wasn’t in any danger. Deciding to trust his gut, he slowly walked to her side which earned him a soft pat on the head before she slipped the leash over his head. Dean huffed, this is ridiculous. 

He followed her cautiously out of the alley, scanning the area as best he could, just in case. When the woman got to the mesh railing, she stepped around it and waited for him to pass. He knew she was expecting him to struggle and attempt to run, but as he looked back up at her, her soft smile and relaxed features reassured him that she'd have no objection if he wanted to do just that. Another reason as to why Dean decided to trust her and allow her to help him. She opened her car door on the passenger side before gesturing for him to enter. Dean stared up for a moment, just taking in how much bigger everything seemed to him now before he decided to work up his energy to make the small jump needed to enter the vehicle. Once on the seat, he sat proud to ensure his body was as tall as he could possibly make it as she gently shut the door behind him. It wasn’t long till she joined him in the front, taking her place in the driver’s seat as she wiped her wet hair out of her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her coat sleeve. She turned to face him, gently offering her hand to pet his head in a reassuring manner, a move Dean was unsure of as he moved back slightly. This caused his rescuer to look lower, her eyebrows arching and a small smile tugging on her lips as she pulled her hand back.  

“So you’re a boy, that’s good to know,” she mused. Wait...what? How does she... Dean didn’t miss the flicker of her eye and slowly looked down. Sure enough, as he sat there proud as can be, little Dean was on show for all to see. Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me, he thought before he slowly lays himself down across the front seat, desperate to retain his doggy modesty.  

“I’ll take you to the vets in the morning, buddy.” He watches as she starts the car, a low rumbling coming from the engine before her music kicked in. “Get you scanned for a chip, see if we can find where you come from,” she continued before she began to hum along to the music that creeped in through the speakers.  

Stairway to heaven, Dean immediately recognized, tilting his head as he did so. This woman has got good taste.  

“Now I bet you’re starving and after the night I’ve had, I need comfort food,” she sniffed and it was only then Dean noticed that the woman appeared to be unhappy. Her slightly puffy eyes and red nose were an indicator that she may have been crying for a while before she’d stopped to help him. Of course, the red nose could also be from the cold and wet weather conditions, but Dean had the hunch that her night may have been just as unpleasant as his.  

As she pulled the car away from the sidewalk, Dean took a moment to try and think over the mess he’d gotten into. Sam never mentioned that this spell would actually turn him into a dog and with Castiel out of action, he knew he had no hope of getting back to his little brother by any supernatural means. He was going to have to figure this out the old fashioned way. Dean knew they were in Enid, Oklahoma. His brother was in a local motel, but getting back there on four paws was going to be difficult. He glanced aside, grateful that this woman had found him and was giving him some sanctuary from the heavy downpour, grateful that she was so far taking care of him. He needed time to work out his bearings and he was hoping that from this woman’s home, he’d be able to plan a route that would take him back to Sam.  

The car turning into a local burger joint caught Dean’s attention, the smell of grilled patties and fresh french fries overwhelmed his senses and it made him shoot up from his laying down position, his stomach rumbling at the smell. He was hungry and he’d never been so relieved that this woman was driving him into a drive through. As she pulled up to order and rolled down her window, Dean’s doggy mouth started to water, drool gathering at the end of his chin. He wasn’t even ashamed.  

Please order a bacon cheeseburger, please, I beg of you, Dean thought, the drool from his chin now dribbling onto the seat beneath him as he watched his saviour lean speak to the intercom. 

“Two double bacon cheeseburgers, a water and a vanilla shake please,” she ordered politely. “Are you happy with that, boy?” 

Boy, am I! Thank god you’re my kind of woman!  Dean was overjoyed that this lady had ordered him his favourite food without even knowing. So happy in fact that a certain part of him had started to move really fast, whipping from side to side in a rhythmic manner. Why is this moving and why can I not control this?! Dean panicked, turning his head to watch as his tanned covered tail continued to beat against the leather seat. Seriously, stop moving! 

Too busy concentrating on how to control his tail, Dean didn’t notice the car move to the next window. It was only when the rustle of the take out bag was heard, that he stopped paying his attention to his new found body part. He whipped his head around and allowed his nose to sniff manically, licking his wide mouth in response to the full flavoured smell. His stomach rumbled at the thought of the contents of the bag, he couldn’t wait to get his mouth around that burger. Even though he knew his eyes should be trained on where the woman was now driving too or even the woman herself, Dean couldn’t stop staring at the bag that was in her lap. Doggy instincts or not, he felt like that burger was the most important thing in the world at that moment.  

It didn’t take long for his feeder to come to a stop, in fact it was only around a five-minute drive but to Dean it felt like an eternity. She turned off the engine and with the bag in hand, she exited the car. He watched her through the window and noticed that they were now outside of a house. Nothing too big or fancy; it was quaint. There were only a few other houses along the street, the sidewalk lined with trees and grass, yards edged with white picket fences. It was a place where Dean could see himself living if he ever got out of the life of hunting.  

The sound of the passenger door opening broke him from his thoughts, he turned his fur covered head to see that burger lady was waiting for him, his leash in her hands. She didn’t have to tug, Dean was more than happy to jump out and set his paws onto the ground again, eager to get somewhere warm and dry with food in his stomach. Walking up the garden path to reach her front door, he notices movement to the left of him and immediately stopped to try and work it out.  

“Evening, dear!” An elderly woman popped her head above her bushes, rollers in her hair and a smile wide across her mouth. Dean noticed how she immediately looked down at him, her eyebrow arching slightly.  

Oh great, a nosey neighbour, he thought, because what neighbourhood doesn’t have one.   

“Oh hey, Mrs Kirkman,” his rescuer replied politely, offering a little wave as she did so. He could tell by her tone that even she got fed up with her neighbour from time to time.  

“Got yourself a new friend, Y/N?” Mrs Kirkman asked, her eyes still staring down at him.  

Y/N. Nice to finally know your name. Didn’t want to be calling you burger lady forever, Dean mused, turning to look up at the woman next to him.  

“Oh, sort of,” Y/N sighed, knowing if she didn’t tell the story her neighbour would only ask anyway. “I found him all caught up in barbed wire in an alley, I’m gonna take him to the vet in the morning to see if we can find who he belongs to,” she finished.  

  That’s what you think, I’ll be gone before sunrise. Dean didn’t know if dogs could frown but he was at least attempting too. He just needed a safe place to rest, somewhere to think over what his next move would be; he wasn’t sticking around.  

“Poor thing,” Mrs Kirkman tutted. “Well, I’ll leave you be, dear. I’m sure you and your boyfriend will have your hands full this evening with this one,” she chuckled.  

“S-sure,” Y/N stammered, causing Dean to feel concerned. “Bye, Mrs Kirkman.”  

Y/N’s goodbye was quiet and he had noticed the slight change in her demeanor when the neighbour had mentioned her boyfriend. She didn’t glance down at him once as she opened her front door, the metal keys jangling against the lock as she stepped inside, gently pulling Dean with her. Once inside, she bent down and removed the makeshift leash from his neck, gesturing for him to explore if he wanted too as she walked into what he could only assume was the kitchen, shedding her wet coat along the way.  He wasn’t sure what to expect with not knowing Y/N much at all, yet he felt comforted by the things that surrounded him. The place wasn’t pristine, her shoes were not in the ready built shoe rack in the hall, there was a glass left out on the coffee table in the living room from when she was last here and as he peered into the kitchen to follow her, he noticed there were a few dirty dishes on the counter. She was perfectly normal.  

“I’ve never been so happy to be home,” Y/N whispered to herself, as she grabbed a shallow dish from the drainer before she reached into the takeout bag for the bottled water. The rustling caught his attention, reminding him that his juicy burger was still yet to be devoured. He eagerly came around and stood next to her, his eyes trained on the bag as he waited. Y/N just looked down at him, her hair framing her face as she offered him a small smile. “Guess you’re missing your home too, huh buddy?” 

You have no idea. Dean thought to himself, allowing a small huff of air to leave him.  

“Alright, buddy, let’s go eat,” she announced, grabbing the bag and holding the bowl of water as she walked into her living room, Dean hot on her heels.  

Before Y/N could even settle herself down on the couch, Dean had excitedly run around her and jumped onto the cushions to join her, waiting patiently for his food. To him, this was normal behavior, you sit down to tuck into a delicious meal but to Y/N, it was amusing.  

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” she jested, a slight chuckle passing her lips as she settled into her usual spot.  

I am. You really don’t expect me to stay on the floor do you? Once again, Dean was frowning even though it wasn’t showing. Being a dog was going to take a lot of getting used to, but he sincerely hoped that he didn’t have to, that tomorrow he would wake to find he had ten fingers and ten toes, yet he knew better than that. Life was never that easy.  

Y/N reached into the bag and pulled out her burger, Dean watched closely as she unwrapped her meal, his eyes honing in on the melted cheese that was oozing out over the bacon and steak patty. Man, he was hungry. He didn’t know whether it was because he was a dog or just because it had been hours since his last meal but he could not stop staring at the meal in her hand as she took her first, significant bite. 

“Oh, that is one good burger,” she moaned around her meal, her tongue peeking out of her lips to lick away the stray sauce that remained. Dean could feel his mouth salivating as he watched her. This is porn, this is literally food porn.     Y/N had noticed him staring and had also noticed the drool that was staring to lace her pillows and she let out a small chuckle as she reached back into the bag for the second burger. Dean couldn’t stand the wait anymore.  

Oh come, lady. Give it to me, please, he begged, licking his lips once more as a little whimper sounded from his throat, causing Y/N to smile as she began to unwrap Dean’s food before tearing the burger into little pieces. To him, this was like emotional torture. I am begging you...shit, how do dogs beg? Paws? Here, have my paw, have both paws!  

“Alright, alright,” Y/N laughed as she watched how invested he was in the food, “when was the last time you had something to eat, huh?” Her question fell on deaf ears as she placed the open wrapper full of chunks of burger in front of him.  

Come to daddy, Dean exclaimed in his mind, moving fast to start scoffing the food down him as quickly as she could. Oh my god, this is heaven.  

“Take it easy, you’ll make yourself sick,” Y/N playfully scolded, watching on with wide eyes at how fast this dog was eating. It didn’t take long, not even a minute until the whole thing was gone and Dean sat back, licking his mouth as proud as punch. He didn’t care that he ate it super quick, he didn’t care that he could feel some of it lodged in his throat because it tasted that good. It was only when he started to cough that he went a little more wide eyed. Maybe she was right... 

“Here have some water,” she encouraged, picking up the bowl of water from the floor to bring it in front of his face. Dean just looked down at the bowl before he looked back up at Y/N, questions forming in his mind.  

How the hell am I supposed to drink this? He looked back down at the water and he knew if he wanted a drink, he’d have to at least give it a go. He’d seen dogs drink before, he could do this...right? With a deep breath, Dean angled his neck down and opened his mouth. At first, he began to bite at the water, not a lot actually going into his mouth before he realised he had to use his tongue too. He could feel the water splashing onto his face through his many failed attempts at having a drink and when he heard Y/N giggle, he stopped what he was doing to look up at her.  

“You’re a mucky pup, aren’t you?” she chuckled, amusement glistening in her eyes as she stared at him, moving the bowl back down to the floor before she started to tidy the mess of their dinner away.  

I’d like to see you try, lady, it’s harder than it looks! Dean felt himself huff as he watched Y/N walk away with the empty wrappers in hand. He was already finding being a dog taxing; not being able to free yourself if you get caught, not being able to open your own damn burger and now he had to drink water out of a bowl. It had only been a few hours since the change and he was already so done with it all.  

While she was out of the room, Dean jumped down and began to really take in his surroundings. He noted the large bookcase in the corner which was adorned with photos. There was a lone chair by her bay window that was covered with a faux fur throw. A small keyboard and guitar on the opposite side of the room, music sheets littering the space around them. Her walls were covered with framed classic movie posters, some of which he highly approved of. So far, so good.  

The sound of shuffling made Dean turn his head and halt his exploring. Y/N had returned, however this time her hair was in a bun on top of her head and she had changed into more comfortable clothing. He slowly made his way back over to her but on this occasion, he stayed close to the chair that was angled next to the window, choosing to jump up and lay there. She settled herself back down onto the couch, taking a sip from her vanilla shake before she turned on the television. Dean noted how she went straight to netflix, snuggling herself down in a blanket as she waited for the streaming service to load. It was only then, that she looked for him and began to pat her hand to her thigh to beckon him over. But Dean didn’t move an inch. 

“Yeah I get why you wouldn’t want to cuddle me, boy,” she whispered, dejectedly, “seems to be a theme to my evening,” she muttered, leaning back into the couch and placing her head on a pillow, before she started the show that was next on her watchlist.  

Dean was grateful for what Y/N had done for him so far; but he wasn’t the cuddling type of dog. Hell, he wasn’t any type of dog. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings by not going over to her, though to him, it all felt a little strange. There was no way he could explain this to her. For one, he was unable to speak and two, if he were able too, she’d mark herself as crazy for being able to hear him talk. What was he meant to do? Go searching through her books until he finds one with a dog in and point his paws at it? I ain’t no Lassie.  

Sniffling brought him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing on the woman who was curled up on the couch. He watched from his position on the chair as Y/N quietly wiped at her eyes. She was crying, that much was obvious, and Dean could only assume that this so-called ‘boyfriend’ Mrs Kirkman mentioned was the cause of her anguish. He was unsure how to best handle her. He couldn’t comfort a woman he barely knew over a situation he knew nothing about, yet he couldn’t just sit here and watch as she sobbed into a fresh kleenex. Making his decision, he slowly made his way down from the chair to her side, nudging at her with his nose to show her he was there if she needed him before he lay down on the floor in front of her. He didn’t see the small smile she gave at his actions but he did feel the hand that came down and gently stroked his back in thanks.  

For now, this was fine but tomorrow, things were going to be different. He wasn’t a pet, nor was he anyone’s lap dog. He was Dean Winchester and his priority was getting back to his brother. His priority was turning back into his human form. Tomorrow he will find Sam, no matter the cost.  

——————————————– Chapter Two –>  ——————————————–

A/N: So begins a new series! I hope you guys enjoyed it so far. Thanks so much for reading. Please let me know your thoughts if you have time <3

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[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 8

Not Yet Too Late

 When they are tossed unceremoniously out the gate of the Dangai (and hell, Ichigo never thought he’d miss the vertigo of a Ray Shift before) Ichigo and Yoroichi are the only ones who land on their feet. Orihime breaks their fall with one of her barriers. Seeing it in action, three pronged and glowing, helps him file away what she can do for later.

 He starts looking around.

 They’re in a village, one that’s empty and devoid of life. Seemingly. Ichigo sees shadows move in the buildings. Okay. Not ideal. Nothing good comes from dropping right in the middle of civilization. It always leads to a fight. London had been a shit show and a half.

 At least he can see now. And what he sees, down the road, is unmistakable.

 “Is that Seireitei?” Ichigo asks aloud. A sprawling city with the harsh edges and an oppressive aura of order and structure. There was a thin line the separate the streets there, shining and well kept, from even the nice enough streets they stood upon. Ichigo knew it for what it was even if Kyo hadn’t told him about it before. He can recognize a military compound for what it is.

 “Yes,” Yoruichi comes to stand at his feet. “Right now we’re in the Rukongai, the outskirts of the soul society. This is the part of the soul society where the most souls live, and also the poorest part.”

 Ichigo doesn’t respond as Yoruichi explains it to his friends who don’t know.

 He eyes the line in the ground.

 “They’ll know we’re here,” he said abruptly. “We need to move away from here. Our entrance was too flashy, and the people in these houses probably won’t keep us a secret. Yoruichi, the Seireitei. Does is have some kind of bounded field?”

 There was no way a military complex didn’t have defenses, no matter how it looked right there.

 “...Yes. There’s a wall that will fall should anyone try to cross the threshold without a permit. On top of that, there’s a gate guardian who will not let anyone past him.”

 “That’s fine. Okay,” Ichigo ran his fingers through his hair, gathering it all to the back of his head. He tied it into a tight, short pony tail. “We need a base of operations so we can figure out how to get in. We’re short on time but still… I’d like to avoid rushing in head first.”

 If it was just him, he probably wouldn’t be so cautious. If it was him, Mash, Cu, and Medusa he would have no hesitation. Break in, make a fuss, and disappear into the veritable maze he knows stretches out. Kyo had told him once how easy it was to get lost if you didn’t know where he was going.

 Joy.

 Yoruichi is giving him the strangest look, but she doesn’t argue.

 “You’re right. Come with me. I have a friend nearby who I believe will be willing to help us.”

 “Sure.”

 Ichigo casts one last look at the Seireitei and follows after the black cat leading their path.

     Just wait for me a little longer Rukia. I swear. I will come save you.  

       *

 Three days.

 Kisuke has been training Ichigo Kurosaki for three days when Yoruichi finally comes back from where she’s taken his two young friends for their own training. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, this whole plan.

 Not their ages, though they are infants by shinigami time. Smaller people than them are made killers, as Kisuke himself well knows. He was barely taller than Jinta when he had met Yoruichi, and scarcely five years older than that when she first handed him envelope of thick, expensive paper. The parchment itself had been worth more money than he’d seen in his entire first century of after-life. The life inside of it, worth somehow more and less.

 He knew, understood intimately, how far a person could go for their friends. As far as follow them into a dark, dangerous new world.

 They don’t have a lot of options, other than to train these teenagers to the best of their abilities. He, Tessei, Yoruichi and the Visord are all banned completely from the Soul Society. Shy of destroying the defending, interdimensional barrier that binds them, there’s no way for them to go in.

 While he could, if he did then they would be faced with Yamamoto and the terrible two, Ukitake and Kyoraku, the second they stepped foot in rukongai. Even Kisuke, with his clever plans and deadly edge, can’t stand against the overwhelming power of Yamamoto’s burning blade.

 That’s not even to mention the other two captains, who are kind only when they can be.

 Kisuke had been young still, just a tetchy little first year in the academy, who hadn’t yet learned to hide completely behind his smiles, under Shihoin sponsorship the last year of the Quincy war.

 He can remember intimately, horribly, the dark look in Yoruichi’s eyes when she walked back into the Shihoin manor with the two trailing after her. It had been the first time Kisuke had ever seen the two, and the affable captain of the eighth and the gentle commander of the thirteenth were no where to be seen.

 They were commanders in a war of extermination, with shadows in the their eyes, and a hand on a blade at all times. Everything about them had been dangerous, weary dogs barely leashed to their master. Ready for the next fight, ready for the next kill. They hadn’t had the luxury of mercy then.

 If any of them are caught in Seireitei, there will be no luxury allowed from the Central 46.

 But these teenagers are young. The old guard, Yamamoto, Unohana, and Yamamoto’s first two students like to pretend that they’re no longer wolves. Kisuke is forced to bank on the idea that they will go after these children with as much mercy as they will be allowed.

 That was the plan.

 It had started as a contingency plan when Masaki and Isshin had first come to him with news of her pregnancy. A dark scheme that he wanted to discard, but he wasn’t able to. A child with the blood of a great shinigami line and a long standing quincy one. Half blooded on both sides, with the potential of a natural born hollow inside his soul.

 (Kisuke’s hands have itched for years to see this boy, to find out what he could do, where his tendencies lay.

 Then Masaki had died, and Isshin had forbidden any of them from coming near the Kurosaki house. Even Kisuke has enough respect for that.)  

 The plan      was    a hail mary that banked on the better nature of war veterans and murderers, and Yoruichi’s ability to train and keep track of human teenagers. She’ll have more luck herding cats.

     Was    .

 Now, things have changed.

 Ichigo lies a hundred yards away in a crater, his arms stretched out and his breathing even. Even asleep, he’s not let go of his sword.

 Yoruichi sits at his side, her tail curled around her front paws.

 “He really just meditated and woke up his powers?” Kisuke has to ask again. It’s the second time. Rarely does he need something repeated but this… This is a bit different.

 “Mmmm. He was in a house that wasn’t his families. It only smelled like him and the mod soul, Kon. I didn’t get to see everything, obviously. I’m not sure what he did. He said, and I quote, ‘Fucking everyone is so damn cryptic all the time’. And then, ‘a backwards ray shift’. After that he slipped into something like jinzen. His reitsu changed while he was meditating, and you know the rest.”

 Kisuke frowned deeply. “Who was being cryptic?”

 “I couldn’t tell you,” Yoruichi shakes her head. “He’s a strange kid, Kisuke.”

 “That’s putting it mildly. Have you seen him fight? I’ve never seen anyone that refined and that coarse in the same time.”

 “He doesn’t have a single particular style,” Yoruichi agreed. “But it’s clear he knows several different ones, and is at least proficient in each. Did you notice he’s ambidextrous?”

 “Mhmm. I did. Did you notice his soul looks older than his body?”

 Kisuke is reluctant to admit it, but he might have to talk to Isshin about this.

 He should be more worried. He is, his mind spinning a hundred paranoid ideas. Everything from Aizen has already gotten to Ichigo, even though he knows that’s impossible right now, to Ichigo has been replaced by a clone that Kisuke didn’t make.

 * *

 They finally lure the people out of hiding so Yoruichi can ask the leader of the village for someone named Kukaku.

 Shiba Kukaku. If Ichigo recalls, Kyo had once told him that Shiba were a strange type of royalty in the Seireitei. Not as stuck up as the rest of the noblemen, who Kyo quietly despised (he’d never been good enough at lying to hide all of his vitriol from Ichigo) they were a rowdy bunch that blew things up a lot.

 Not exactly stealthy, but Ichigo was willing to go along with whatever Yoruichi’s plan was for now. Clearly she knew what she was doing. She and Urahara, and probably Tessai and the kids, were undoubtedly from here. What happened and why they were in the world of the living was none of his business.

 They were in the middle of talking to the old man when the door burst open and a pig launched a man off of her(?) back.

 Ichigo caught him effortlessly around the middle.

 “Ah! She threw me again!” The stranger shouted, far to close to Ichigo’s ear. Ichigo set him on his feet.

 “Careful,” he advised. The man dusts his pants off and finally looks to Ichigo.

 “I’m fine, I’m fine. It happens all… the… time?” He stares. Ichigo can see the flip switched in his head, and suddenly he’d ducking a punch. “A punk ass shinigami!”

 “Hey. Don’t be rude,” Ichigo says with no sense of irony at all. The man is broad, strong, with a bandana over his black hair and goggles over his eyes.

 “What are you doing here?!”

 Ichigo just stared at him. This guy was so rowdy. They really didn’t have time to be dealing with him…

 Of course, he got right in Ichigo’s face. He even patted his cheek patronizingly.

 “Didn’t you hear me? I asked what a punk ass shinigami like you is-”

 When Ichigo punches him he goes flying right back through the wall.

 “...huh,” Ichigo says idly. “I tried to hold back.”

 That training with Urahara must have done him more good than he first thought.

 He picks his way through the broken wall to find his attacker knocked out on the ground.

 “Oh. Well that happened.”

 He shrugs it off and goes back inside to sit beside Yoruichi in front of a bug eyed mayor while a bunch of punks riding literal hogs surround the guy Ichigo knocked out.

 “Anyhow. You were saying your friend lives somewhere around here, weren’t you?”

 “....yes. We will have to find Kukaku’s house, but I believe that she will help us.”

 “How is she going to get us into Seireitei? If the walls come down and there’s guards at the gate that cuts off the direct route.”

 “You’re not wrong.”

 Yoruichi explains that the Seireitei is surrounded on all sides by a spirit barrier. No amount of spirit energy will serve them any good. Which is irritating. If it was spells or a bounded field they could maybe find a way to wind through them or hack past the barriers, like Flat does as easy as breathing. But if it’s that secure, above and bellow, Ichigo really has no choice but to trust Yoruichi to know what she’s doing.

 He doesn’t have any better ideas, certainly. So they set off to find this Kukaku Shiba.

 The only problem is that she is, apparently, the older sister of the guy Ichigo KO’d. And that’s how Ichigo finds himself running away from a woman with one arm and a hand full of bombs.

 How is this his life?

 Yoruichi manages to smooth things over by explaining that Ganju had started everything and Ichigo had only hit him once. Then the scolding goes from Kukaku on Ichigo to Kukaku on Ganju.

 “And I thought I had weird family dynamics,” Ichigo muttered to Uryu, who’s been watching the whole ordeal like it’s a sitcom.

 “Your family dynamics are weird,” Uryu replies without missing a beat.

 Ichigo snorts, but shuts up when Kukaku turns to them.

 “Alright. Since this is Yoruichi and Urahara asking me, I can’t say no to this job. But I don’t trust you kids. So once Ganju,” Who had been dragged home by the hog riders while Ichigo’s group was looking for the house, “Wakes up, he’ll be going with you.”

 First Ichigo knocked him out, then his own sister. Ichigo is starting to pity the fool.

 Which was just great.

 “Fine,” Ichigo mentally starts changing his plans again around the new arrival. It’ll add friction. Ganju clearly hates shinigami, but if they’re going up against shinigami hopefully the common enemy will help smooth over the enmity.

 “But first, how exactly are you planning on getting us in there?”

 “Huh? I’ll show you.”

 Kukaku leads them into the bowels of the house, until they’re standing in a dark room and looking up at a round chimney that Ichigo knows extends high outside.

 “I’m going to get you in through the sky!”

 “...fuck me,” Ichigo says. “It’s a canon.”

     Please dear god let this be less terrifying than being shot into the sky on a bow.  

 “That’s right! You’re looking at the number one fireworks maker, Kukaku Shiba!”

 Fuck.

 “Okay.”

 Kukaku tosses a ball his way. Ichigo turns it over in his hands, inspecting it curiously. There’s a design on it that reminds him vaguely of a phoenix and star wars. The door slides open while Ichigo is inspecting it, and Ganju steps inside. He’s got a nasty black eye.

 “Focus your energy in there,” she orders.

 Ichigo, who has spent five years pouring his mana and reiryoku into literally dozens of people, does just that. It’s as easy as breathing. A light flickers and he finds himself in a perfect sphere that glows so brightly with his energy it threatens to blind even him. Beyond the confines he can hear his friends shout. So he cuts off the pouring of power and drops the ball to the floor.

 “Was that right?” he asks.

 The dropped jaw on Kukaku’s face was enough of an answer.

 Ichigo always has been good at making impressions.

 “Yeah,” she says at last, recovering faster than Ichigo was expecting. “That’ll work. My men will take you to the training room for some more practice. If it’s not perfect by tomorrow, you’ll blow up on entry.”

 Ichigo doesn’t even blink.

 “I understand. Thanks.”

 While they’re walking away, Ichigo takes a look back just in time to see Ganju’s face twisted in unmistakable pain.

 * * *

 Tea steams across the table, twirling in the light of the overhead. The kettle sits on the counter, unplugged but still hot and ready to use. The wonders of human convenience.

 Isshin sits across from Kisuke on the low table, his eyes strangely dark, his customary smile missing. It’s frankly disturbing, and a good sign of the times.

 “So,” Isshin starts. “Why did you call? I doubt it’s a social call.”

 Indeed, his son has just left on a potential suicide mission to save a girl he barely knows on grounds of a favor that he owes. It’s such a Shiba thing to do.

 Ichigo is a frightening boy, he is his parents son, but Kisuke thinks he will surpass them both rather soon.

 “No, I'm afraid not,” Kisuke’s tone is still light, still somewhat playful. He misses Yoruichi at his side. He kind of misses the brash, unbending teenager that had been in his basement. Ichigo seems to have a talent for worming his way into people’s good graces, despite his manners.

 Kisuke can’t imagine how often he gathers followers if his plan for invading seireitei was to make allies and convince them to commit treason. Ichigo doesn’t seem      stupid    . Perhaps just overly optimistic?  

 “When did you teach your son to fight with a sword?” he asks instead, starting with the easiest question. Easier than asking ‘Isshin why the fuck does a child move like he’s lived and breathed fighting but thinks the bonds of friendship will save him?’. Or, ‘How did Ichigo do in one hour what normally takes more than ten years?’.

 “I never have. Why?” Isshin frowns. “He went to karate for years, and we spar at home, but he’s never held a weapon before.”

 “Is that so?” Kisuke cocks his head, his grey eyes narrowing minutely. Never touched a sword? No, that’s impossible. Ichigo moves with grace and holds a weapon with ease that only comes from long years of practice.

 “Why? Kisuke, what’s going on with my son?” Isshin’s voice raises. He slaps his hands on the table, only to retract them with Kisuke gives him a Look.

 Kisuke can only shake his head. “I couldn’t tell you. Your best guess is to ask him, but I know you won't do that.”

 Guilt and discomfort flickers across Isshin's face. He looks down, his fists clenching in his lap.

 “The time isn't right yet.”

 “The time's never going to be right,” It’s something Kisuke has wanted to say for      years    now.  “You'll keep putting it off until eventually, it's too late. I know you.”

 Isshin's jaw sets and he narrows those dark eyes at Kisuke. Anyone else might have at least squirmed. Kisuke doesn’t so much as blink. “That's why I asked you to look out for him.”

 “Have you seen your son lately, Isshin?” He hardly needs anyone to look out for him anymore. Even Kisuke has nothing to teach. All he van do right now, without jeopardizing Ichigo’s trust in him, is keep pushing Ichigo to grow stronger and stronger.

 It occurs to him, briefly, that Ichigo might learn who they are in Seireitei, but that is a bridge Kisuke will cross when they reach it.

 “Don’t talk down to me!” Isshin’s temper finally frays. The fact that it took so little is telling. Isshin is worried about Ichigo. A father who told his son none of what his life may hold is worried now for what will happen to him that life.

 Kisuke wants to laugh in his face.

 Since he doesn’t want to be punched, even by Isshin in a gigai, he snaps his fan out over his smiling mouth.

 “Then step up, Isshin. You’re children are growing. If you’re not careful, your children will leave you behind.”

 He thinks, privately, that Ichigo already has.

 Isshin is silent for a long, terrible minute. Isshin is never silent. He is loud and brash and makes an excellent ‘idiot distraction’. Too good, sometimes, if he really hasn’t noticed any of this.

 Ichigo walks with purpose. With weariness. Kisuke is too familiar with the dark edges of existence not to see the way Ichigo faces windows and door, the way he watches shadows, the way his hand twitches to the right like there’s something or someone there when the air is empty. Kisuke can see the darkness in the back of brown eyes.

 Something happened, and the only time it could have occurred was over the summer.

 What happened, in this Chaldea?

 “...he asked me about Masaki,” Isshin says at last. “He asked me if she was a quincy.”

 “Did you tell him?” As if Kisuke doesn’t already know the answer.

 “No.”

 His voice is quiet.

 “He asked me in front of her grave, and I couldn’t tell him the truth. It’s already too late, Kisuke.”

 “Isshin… You really area fool.”

 Ichigo is gone now. Maybe, for Isshin, forever.

 * * * *

 That night, Ichigo finds himself sitting outside in the grass, rolling stones through his fingers while lightning bugs flicker around him.

 It’s picturesque out here. Almost enough to be the paradise so many people hope for.

 It’s nothing like the long, dark corridors of Kur. It’s nothing like the dead soil and the flickering cages tended to so carefully by Ereshkigal. Ichigo aches with thoughts of what might have happened to her. Where is she, that she allowed her land to fall into such a state of poverty? When had grass started to grow? When had a King taken over the afterlife?

 He has a million questions and not a single answer.

 Ichigo rolls a rock around in his palm. In his other hand he brings up a small knife and cuts into the stone a familiar rune. One line with a single smaller one branching off downwards.

 ‘Torch’.

   He knows mana won’t work here. There is no life for this land of life energy. That was how they’d defeated Tiamat, after all.

 So he must come up with something else.

     Ichigo knows, for Scathach has told him, that most mages have absolutely reiryoku to their name. Once they die they can no longer perform their precious magic, for there is no mana for them to use.

 Ichigo is blessed (or something) with an over abundance of both and a talent only for mana transference.

 It seems to him that the concept can’t be that different.

 So he focuses on the stone in his hand and calls on the energy he can feel humming around him. In the air, the grass, the earth, it makes up everything the same way mana does. He draws it into himself and tries to press into the rock in his hand.  The energy sinks in, slowly at first. It’s like trying to force syrup into a water balloon made of concrete.

  It’s not really working.

  Some instinct hisses in the back of his mind and Ichigo sits straight up, drawing Zangetsu from where he’s sat in the grass beside him. He’s not a second too late, barely blocking a blow that comes from the shadows.

 Ichigo is on his feet in a second.

 He hasn’t survived this long by being stupid, and he’s always trusted his instincts. They’ve never let him die yet.

 They’re far enough away that if he shouts no one will reach him in time to help. Even if he was closer, when he sees the man step out of the trees he knows without a doubt; none of his friends can take this man.

 He’s tall. Silver hair and a curved smile makes him think of a snake. He almost feels like Stheno, enough that it sets Ichigo’s teeth on edge. He remembers clearly her habit of toying with those she likes, embarrassing and driving them to ruin while watching them struggle.

 “You know it’s rude to attack someone when their back is turned?” Ichigo says, tilting his blade and letting the bandages flow off and into the air.

 The mans smile stretches.

 “You have good reflexes for a kid,” he teases, his voice light. Ichigo narrows his eyes. This man is strong. Stronger than Ichigo for certain, but if he’s careful…

 “I’m not a kid. Who are you?”

 “Me? Oh, no one really. I just wanted to see who it was that came to visit today. You’re causing quite the stir, you know.”

 “Oh yeah?” Ichigo narrows his eyes. “Are you here for a fight?”

 The man considers him. He lifts a dagger up, twirling it elegantly. He drops into a hard stands, one leg behind the other, partially bent, his hand with the knife at the back.

 Ichigo gets Zangetsu up without a second to spare, blocking the blade an inch from cutting into his shoulder. It extends and retracts in the time it takes to blink.

 Joy.

 Ichigo isn’t the fastest person, and his sword is big and powerful not small and swift. They’re a bad match up.

 Oh well.

 Ichigo lifts Zangetsu and brings him back down, slicing the air and cleaving the earth. The man, a shinigami with a white coat the flutters around him, dodges to the side with a single step. Ichigo catches a glimpse of his eyes. Quicksilver, it’s gone a second later and replaced by that same smile.

 “If you’re looking for a fight, I won’t back down,” Ichigo warns. Zangetsu hums in his grasp, comforting and familiar. His blood pounds, excitement rushes under his skin.

 “You're an interesting guy,” the stranger muses, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

 It’s all Ichigo can do not to laugh.

 Ichigo has fought gods and monsters. This is just a man.

 “No way in hell.”

 “What a strange person you are.” He puts his short sword back in it’s sheath and it disappears inside his sleeves. Ichigo doesn’t trust it for a minute. “I have what I need. Bye bye now.”

 He waves and disappears in a blur of speed that makes Ichigo’s stomach twist. If that man wanted him dead, he would probably      be    dead.

 Ichigo is left alone in the dark.

 With nothing else to do, he picks up his rock and tries again.

 He only gets a few more minutes of trying to fill the cement balloon before the door to the main house opens and Orihime comes walking out. She shivers at the chill in the air and looks around until her eyes find his. They’re full of concern and compassion.

 It’s for the best. Ichigo needs to talk to her anyways.

 He waves her over.

 Orihime is someone that Ichigo has known for years, but barely knows at all in the end. He knows how her brother died.

 (He was there when it happened, when they came broken bodied and hearted into the kurosaki clinic. Her hair was short and her eyes were wet and dull with grief. For Ichigo grief was already an old companion. He’d sat at her side while his dad tried to explain what was happening to a child that already knew. He wonders if she remembers. He almost hopes she does.)

 Yet, they’ve never hung out outside of school. She is Tatsuki’s friend, and Tatsuki is Ichigo’s, and so she is in the same orbit as he is but they’ve never really gone off with each other, and rarely had true conversations.

 (He keeps waiting for her to bring up Acidwire/Sora.)

 (she doesn’t)

 She kneels across from him, a bright smile in the dark of night and Ichigo is suddenly very, very glad that she’d not come a few minutes earlier. He’s not sure how well he could have protected her.

 The thought tastes like bile.

 “Kurosaki,” she smiles sweetly at him. “You’ve been out here so long. Aren’t you getting cold?”

 Ichigo tilts his head before he shakes it.

 “No, I’m fine.”

 “O-oh.”

 Orihime is unsure of herself. It seems like she always is, except when she protected them in the Dangai, and when she swore to follow him into battle.

 How does he keep finding these people? These inexplicably loyal beings, with power beyond humans, who follow him into convoluted plots and dangerous schemes? How does he keep tricking people into thinking it’s a good idea?

 Is everyone just stupid?

 “Orihime, listen.”

 She perks up, all of his attention on him. Ichigo doesn’t like saying this, but it’s something he has to. There’s no other option.

 “When we get to the Seireitei, you’re going to be out top supporter. You’re our only healer, and while Uryu and I know basic first aid, it’s different from actually fixing someone. On top of that, you’re our shield. I know you’ve got an attack, but listen. Can you use it?”

 Orihime’s brows furrow. “I can use it. I know how, I’ve been practicing with Tsubaki and Yoruichi for a long time now.”

 “I don’t mean physically,” he corrects. He wants to be gentle, but it’s just not going to work. “I mean, can you actually hurt someone?”

 She freezes.

 “I-”

 “If it comes down to you or them. If it comes down to them or me. Orihime, could you hurt someone? Could you attack with the intent of making sure they don’t get back up?”

 She clasps her hands in her lap. “I-I can-”

 “If you can’t,” he cuts in swiftly. “Say it now. When we fight we need to know you have our backs. Do you understand, Orihime? “

 “Y-yes,” she bows her head. Her hair pins glow faintly in the darkness, distracting from the shadow cast over her eyes.

 * * * * *

 Ichigo eyes the dark waters of the Mississippi warily.

 “This is insane,” he says aloud, “I’ve never seen anything this wide before.”

 He spins and points at Cu. “Don’t say a thing.”

 The caster lifts his hand, looking innocent. “I can’t say wha now?”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Stop being vulgar.”

 Kyo prods Ichigo from the side, garnering his attention. Mash sits at the front of their boat, a flat barge that pushes along valiantly. They’re halfway to the whitehouse now. Halfway to the end of the war, and Ichigo can feel the stress thrum across his skin. He doesn’t know what to do now.  The traveling. The waiting. The intermediate fighting is tiring everyone out, Ichigo included.

 It’s hard to stay on guard 24/7, with anxiety pushing them forwards as much as anything else.

 As much as supporting other people tires him out, staying on his toes constantly is a whole other type of exhausting.

 He trusts his servants to keep him from harm, but they still rely on him to support them, to give them orders, to supply them with information that they need. He stays in the back, he watches and waits, and tells them where best to place their blows. He looks for opening they can’t see from so close up.

 Kyo’s hand lands on his knee. Ichigo stops bouncing it. He hadn’t even realized hed started.

 “Kyo…?” It still feels wrong to voice his true name out loud, even though Kyo has told him a more intimate secret than just his name.

 Kyo turns his dark eyes on Ichigo. There’s a furrow in his brows. He’s just as tired as the rest of them. With the rest of the world collapsing, more and more hollow’s are being pushed into the only place left in the living world. Early on it was just weaklings, but now there are smaller, more humanoid monsters that stalk their steps, waiting to devour the dead they leave in their wake.

 A war is an all you can eat buffet for creatures made of fear, rage, and hunger.

 “Breath, Ichigo,” Kyo nudges him back against the crate they’re rested against, near the edge of t the flat barge.

 “I am breathing,” he grumbles petulantly.

 Kyo barely has enough dignity not to roll his eyes. That’s fine. Ichigo has been wearing him down for months. Kyo wears manners and politeness like armor, and Ichigo has a terrible habit of shattering things like that.

 “You know what I mean. You should reserve yourself for the final fight.”

 “I know. I’m trying.”

 Kyo hums. The moon hangs heavy and full above their heads. Ichigo knows instinctively that neither of them will really sleep, but resting his eyes is better than nothing. With Medusa on watch, no one will sneak up on them.

 It’s only a small comfort.

 A bigger comfort is the shoulder pressed against his, invisible and intangible to everyone but him. Ichigo will not admit it, but it feels sometimes like Kyo is only his. The rest of these heroes are here to save the world, and Kyo is too, but while they all have each other the two of them are the only ones privy to the world of the dead and the skull masked monsters that creep in the shadows.

 Something protective curls in his chest and Ichigo relaxes, leaning half into Kyo’s side. He watches the moon ripples across the water, unattainable and intangible.  

 * * * * * *

[buildingcages]

Box Boy Enrollment, part 2

whew, this got long! part one is here. 

masterpost

(Warnings: dehumanization, objectification, financial coercion, forced nudity (mostly nonsexual), slavery, humans as pets, victim blaming, psychological manipulation, corporal punishment)

The lady behind the desk was plump, comfortably middle aged with little gold glasses on a chain around her neck. She smiled brilliantly at him as he came in, gesturing to the chair across from hers. 

"Come on in sweetie, you're here to sign up aren't you?"

"Oh uh. Yeah. Is it that obvious?" He dropped into the chair, feeling embarrassed and transparent. God, but he must look pathetic. "I'm here about the uh, the debt forgiveness program?"

She chuckled. The name plate on her desk read 'Miss Delilah'. "In my line of work you learn to read people, is all. It looks like you've got some paperwork for me hon?"

Nodding, he slid the folder across the desk. The very sympathetic bank manager had given it to him when he suggested he come here. She picked it up and thumbed through the contents with pursed lips. He slid his hands under his thighs to keep himself from fidgeting. 'It's not going to work. She's going to tell you it's too much and you're not worth that much and they can't help you, and you will have humiliated yourself for nothing-'

She snapped the folder shut and smiled at him again. "You're doing the right thing sweetie. I'll just get some forms for you and we'll get you all set up." 

He slumped with relief and she chuckled again, reaching across the desk to ruffle his hair. 

"Aw were you worried? You're a good boy aren't you? You're gonna do just fine." She set a small stack of forms in front of him and then tapped something on her computer screen. "You just fill those out and I'll let the intake boys know to get a space ready for you ok?"

He closed his eyes for a minute. This was the last moment where he could turn back. He picked up the pen. Name, date of birth, medical history, fingerprints. The questionnaire about his sexual history, identity, and attraction gave him pause, but he decided not to think about it and filled it out as fast as he could. He hesitated for a long moment before signing, then pushed the paper back across the desk. His mouth was as dry as the desert he'd driven through on a road trip once. It was done.

The recruitment lady- no, Miss Delilah- looked up from her computer and smiled at him again. She pulled something out of her desk drawer and came around behind him before he could catch a good look at whatever it was. When he tried to twist and look at her she put a hand on his shoulder and he stilled. 

"Easy now sweetie, I'm just putting your collar on you. You understand you're going to have to wear this from now on, right?"

Oh. 

"Oh. Of course. Um. Can I ask. What’s next?" The collar was stiff, high enough that it kept pinching him when he slouched.

"Well just this once, since you've been so good for me. Next, someone will come from intake to bring you up to your temporary quarters, then after a little while you'll be taken to the training facility. Once you're there, they'll start teaching you how to be a good little pet. Won't that be nice?" 

He kind of doubted it would be. 'It's worth it, whatever happens, if this saves everyone else then it's worth it. Be good and maybe they'll go easy on you. Then when they sell you as a companion to some little old rich lady you can run away if she's mean.' He took a deep shaky breath. 

"Ok. Thank you for telling me."

"You can call me Miss, dear. It's important for you to learn how to show respect for your betters, isn't it hon?"

Meek, he reminded himself, you are going to be meek. He made his voice as small as he could.

"Yes, Miss."

While he sat there trying to steady himself, Miss Delilah was bustling around pulling a stack of 3 nested plastic bins out of another drawer. She set them on the desk and smiled again.

"Ok sweetheart go ahead and strip. Clothes in this bin, shoes and belt in this one, personal effects in here." 

He looked around the little office, at the glass door with all the people typing away in their cubicles behind it, at the lack of any clothing visible to replace what he was wearing. 

"Don't pets get clothes, um. Miss?" The question came out a little choked, and he knew he must be as red as a boiled lobster.

"You're not a pet yet honey, you're a trainee. You've got to earn the ability to call yourself a pet, and you do that by being good and doing what you're told. Come on hon, you've been so good, don't make me punish you already!"  

He took another deep breath, the way he’d been taught when he was overwhelmed as a kid. 'Just start with your shoes. You can do this. One thing at a time.' 

He slipped off his worn but comfy boots, and put them in the tray. Then belt and socks. His heavy rings, the leather bands he wore around his wrist. His hands shook so badly taking off his shirt that a button came free and pinged off into the corner somewhere. Miss Delilah made a disapproving "tsk" sound but didn't say anything. Finally he stood there in a collar and boxers. Maybe it would be enough. Miss Delilah raised her eyebrows at him and he knew it wouldn't be. He squeezed his eyes shut and slid them down his hips, setting them in the plastic tub. 

When his shoulders tried to rise defensively the collar bit into him. Miserably, he wrapped his arms around his middle. 

"See? that wasn't so bad was it honey? You just keep doing what you're told like a good boy and you'll be just fine. Now come sit by me--NOT on the chair, good heavens, you can kneel right here, and I'll give you a little something to calm your nerves. I've got a couple other things to set you up with and then you'll be all ready for intake and training." 

He knelt. He felt detached and cold, and like some distant part of him might be screaming, but he fought the prickle of tears behind his eyes and accepted the pill and the little paper cup of water. When he looked up again, Miss Delilah was holding something that looked a lot like those piercing guns you saw at the mall. Something on her computer beeped, and she took a little chip out of its slot and plugged it into the thing in her hand. Then she grabbed his ear, hard, and he flinched back on instinct and fell right over on his back.

"Oh, honey, and you were doing so good too."

 Her voice was sad, and she was reaching for something on her desk. The next thing he knew, the world whited out with pain. He heard a scream he belatedly recognized as his own, tapering off into pained gasps. A shock collar, of course, he should have known he was so stupid-

"Now are you gonna be good for me? Or are you gonna make me do that again?" 

"No, please, I'm sorry," he gasped, trying to coax his limbs to cooperate, "I'll be good Miss I promise." 

"Good boy. Up on your knees now, and hold still." 

He pushed himself up with arms that felt like overcooked noodles. It was a piercing gun after all, and when he raised a hand furtively to touch his ear he found a flat plastic tag like they used to mark livestock. It hurt, but not as much as the shock collar. He thought maybe the little pill she gave him was starting to work, because he felt kind of soft and floaty.

"There, see how much nicer it is when you do what you're told?" She patted his cheek kindly, "Now remember, the money to pay your debts is coming directly from your sale. If you're really good and we don't have to keep paying for extra training we can pay that debt off free and clear, ok? Just keep reminding yourself that this was your choice. Everything that happens to you now is something you signed up for of your own free will."

It was true, and he thought maybe it would make it easier to deal with, if he reminded himself that he’d had some kind of control. It wasn’t like he didn’t know this would be humiliating. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt the tears sticking in his eyelashes. 

Behind him, he heard the door open. Miss Delilah smiled down at him again, and clipped a lead to one of the rings on his collar. 

"Here's intake now, you're going to be a good boy for them and do everything they say, aren't you?"

He nodded miserably. When he looked over his shoulder he saw two men in white with long batons hanging off their belts. He suspected he didn't want to know what those were for, and he also suspected it wasn't going to matter. Delilah handed one of them the end of his leash. 

"Up, trainee." His voice was sharp, and there was no warmth in it. He got up. It was dawning on him that he was about to be paraded naked in front of a whole office full of people, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Sure enough, the man holding his leash turned and walked back out the open door without so much as a backward glance. He stumbled and walked quickly to keep up, sure that any delay would be punished. As they passed the cubicles he could see that most of the office workers were ignoring him completely, but one had been watching through the glass door intently. He was smiling slyly, one hand rubbing his trousers under the desk. 

"Eyes forward trainee," the intake man behind him punctuated this by tapping his baton against his captive's turned cheek. It buzzed against his skin, clearly a warning. He snapped his eyes forward and concentrated on walking, trying to ignore the flush he could feel creeping across his chest. 

~*~

Please let me know if I’ve forgotten any warnings! A big thanks to all the folks involved in building this lovely whumptastic sandbox <3

[snowbellewells]

“The Case of the Heart in Armor”  {Part Five}

Wow, it’s hard to believe that I started this fic last fall for @csrolereversal​ and am just now getting close to the conclusion. A lot of other things have jumped in line ahead of it, but I am still really enjoying this one, and I hope those who are still reading it will continue to as well. Only one more part to go after this!

Thank you once again for the patience of @courtorderedcake​ for the lovely and inspiring art which birthed the idea and started it all!

Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog…

From the Beginning: on Tumblr HERE or on AO3 HERE

Part Five

The next morning found Inspector David Nolan once more within his well-appointed office at the Yard; this time not fruitlessly scrutinizing scattered photos for missed details, but pacing the length of the room with the restless energy of a caged beast. His walk to headquarters through a chill drizzle as dawn was just beginning to lighten the grey English morning, had been wet and cold, but nothing out of the ordinary for rainy London weather. Granted, he had barely slept that night, surely disturbing his sweet, compassionate wife. She had risen earlier than was her wont as well, making him a hearty breakfast and holding on more tightly than usual as she saw him on his way.  He had been at work long before it was necessary, but it still did not explain why his second-in-command and his sister had not arrived for their meeting as scheduled; Emma to report anything she might have noticed on the streets in her previous evening’s scouting work, and David then intended to share with them both the clue he and Jones had uncovered.

Of course, he tried to recognize that his frustration was heightened, his patience not at the level he would normally attempt to exercise, and that they were merely a scant few minutes late.  All the same, it was completely unlike Watson to be anything but prompt, following his superior’s orders to the letter (often even anticipating David’s wishes or going above and beyond in fulfilling them). It went against all established character for Graham to be tardy or forgetful, and though he did have a pleasant and more relaxed side to his personality once he grew comfortable with others, Watson was never careless. The fact that he had been meant to swing by Emma’s building and accompany her in, made Nolan’s already high tension all the more volatile. Though he knew his adopted sister could handle herself - had more than one permanent scar upon his person to attest to the fact - David Nolan would not be appeased until both Graham and Emma were present before him.

Even as he was thinking that very thing, pacing back over to the window to peer out upon the dreary sidewalk and damp grass in front of the imposing building in which he stood, Nolan heard the quick flurry of rushing footsteps at his door before it was flung open to admit his lieutenant’s abrupt entrance. 

Whirling with all senses on the alert, David’s shoulders only lowered a bit in relief to find Watson standing in the doorway. Eyes wide and searching as they scanned the office anxiously, Graham panted slightly from clear exertion, his face worried and paler than usual. The deputy’s wheaten curls were riotously mussed and in disarray from his hands raking through them, as he proceeded to do once more upon seeing his boss was the only person in the room. “Isn’t she here?” he asked worriedly.

David shook his head tersely. “No, she isn’t. I thought you were going by there to walk in with her?” He tried to keep the bite of recrimination from his words, but winced internally at the way Graham dipped his head to avoid his eyes, knowing he must not have succeeded.

“I did go by her building. Rang for her several times, in fact. I got no answer and wasn’t sure how to proceed. Eventually, the building’s landlady came to the main door and let me in, but even going directly to her door, knocking and calling for her repeatedly brought no response. I couldn’t very well pick the lock and break in with the matron standing right there. I assumed - well, hoped really - that she had gotten an early start and was already here with you.” His words died out on the obvious conclusion that, not only was Emma not present, but she clearly had not been at her home either, or if so, was somehow unable to answer. The implication was chilling, to say the least. Their plan for the morning had been concocted between the two of them to see Emma safe but not make her feel coddled, doubted, kept on a leash, or watched like a child. All the same, now something might well be wrong, and they had been none the wiser.

“Send a runner to Jones’ residence. Holmes was here late last night; he saw Emma home from her undercover work, then wanted to discuss the last victim. We found something I was anxious to share with you. I’ll fill you in on the way, but we should get moving and figure out where Emma’s gotten off to. Have him meet us at her building as soon as possible - at least it’s a place to start.”

Graham gave a bob of the head and stepped into the lobby to flag down the needed messenger. Then both men were out the door and on their way again within moments; concern lending speed to their steps amidst hopes they were not too late. What neither man wanted to say was that Emma had likely not gone anywhere on her own - at least not of her own free will.

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

‘Holmes’ Jones met the Inspector and his friend Watson at Miss Nolan’s apartment, looking more rattled and concerned than David Nolan ever remembered witnessing; of course, he had done some research on the gentleman detective before reaching out to consult him in official police business. He had looked into the other man’s affairs well enough to know that there had been early abandonment, a less than savory romantic entanglement ended abruptly in a suspicious death, and a past proclivity to drown the memory of said losses in drink before his elder brother had lured him into an undersecretary position a few years back and seemingly given Killian Jones the rudder he needed to steady his course and once more find purpose. Said gentleman had eventually quit the position with his only known kin to go into his current private investigative endeavors, but it appeared that since his point of turnabout, Jones had maintained utter control of his more tempestuous impulses from the past. In fact, Nolan had often thought him rather cool and detached in his manner, unless he was employing charm and his handsome face to coax a witness into talking or to trip up a suspect. The inspector realized now that perhaps Jones’ business-like, emotionless distance had been a carefully arranged mask that was  slipping away.

Killian Jones, for his part, could not help cursing his own negligence at simply walking away and leaving Emma at her doorstep the previous night, as if there were not a care in their worlds. Granted, she had been fine when they parted company; no doubt she would have balked at him insisting to see her all the way up to her private apartments as though it had been some blushing first date. The place had seemed normal and undisturbed - no signs of commotion or threat, no uneasy tingling at his nape (which once he could have depended on to give fair warning) - and so he had let it go, not wanting to push the tentative peace between himself and the prickly beauty.

However, fear for her safety and rampant self-loathing licked at the edges of his mind like ravenous ghouls in the changed circumstances of morning light. Had someone been lying in wait for her return home? How would said person have gained entrance? Or did a villain watch and wait until she was alone, asleep and off her guard, to break in and overpower her? Suddenly, Killian knew all too many details and statistics of this case and uncounted others to let that train of thought travel further without losing all composure.

The three men stood in Emma’s living room searching for anything which might provide a clue as to what had happened and how she had been accosted. Neither her door nor windows showed any sign of forced entry. The apartment reflected the comfortable clutter of a lived-in home, but it was free of the broken and scattered shambles that would indicate a struggle. Had Emma been overwhelmed before she could even attempt to fight back?  Just as they had all feared, she seemed to have disappeared without a fight, in the midst of a case - something the feisty blonde they all held dear would never have allowed to happen without scratching and clawing and raising an alarm in her own defense if she were able.

That coupled with the discovery he and Nolan had made the night before was more than enough to set Killian well and truly on edge. Not only that, and the creeping fear that it was all connected, but an old memory of a disturbed individual whispered of some year before began to niggle at the corners of his mind. It had never become an official case - the clues and questions frighteningly sparse and circumstantial at best, but… there was a troubling echo of the deaths then with the ones they were seeing now. Holmes was just debating the efficacy of sharing his suspicions when the Inspector sat heavily on the large chest at the foot of his sister’s bed. His voice was weary as he looked down with unnecessary focus on his large hands clasped uselessly in his lap.

A deep sigh left him, broad shoulders slumped as David Nolan began, in a voice much softer than Killian had ever heard the officer use. “I don’t want to think this… and yet...I can’t in good conscience not tell you both that I fear Emma is in the hands of our killer.” His words were interspersed with reluctant pauses, but he continued. “She... she would want to strangle me…” Here he shook his head, looking almost boyish when some long ago memory caused a small grin to transform his face for mere seconds before slipping away once more. “If she knew I was telling you this...Emma would have my head...but let’s just say… she could easily be the ‘heart in armor’ from the clue we found.”

Graham at Nolan’s right side looked uncertain, brow furrowed as he considered his boss’ words. “Sire, no disrespect, I know she is tough and guarded, to be sure, but what makes her more so than many others?”

Killian arched a brow, surprised and rather impressed that Watson was going to push his superior for further explanation. Granted, he had wondered the same - especially since he had privately believed the clue was referring to him up until Emma’s disappearance at least. Still, he had figured he would need to ask the question himself.

Nolan ran a sharp, frustrated palm back over his close-cropped head, his agitation and discomfort growing continually clearer. “It wasn’t just that she was picking pockets on the streets to survive when Mum and I found her,” he murmured, forcing out the rest. “She wasn’t merely homeless; she’d never had a home at all...or anyone who cared how she was...if she were hurt...or angry...or afraid. There had been someone… an older boy who preyed on that...said he loved her. Then he betrayed what little trust she had for anyone… and left her with a baby… that she lost. She never told even me any more than that. So, yes, there is armor a foot thick and a mile wide around that heart of hers.”

Graham flushed and looked away, abashed and silenced as if he had forced Nolan to talk in the precinct box. Killian too blew out a stunned breath, well aware from just her small tells and the feeling of kinship with her he couldn’t ignore - despite their heated sparring - that Emma Nolan’s life must have been anything but easy. Still, he had not expected that depth of tragedy and pain. He was almost embarrassed to have assumed his own losses would have left a larger mark.

“Aye,” he murmured reluctantly, pursing his lips in troubled thought as he continued to scan the room around them, hoping to find something amiss or out of place, anything that might give them a lead as to where Emma might be now. “I can understand why such treatment might make anyone put up walls,” he finally added, coming to stand near the door and at last reluctantly admitting that there was nothing in the small apartment of any help to them.

Looking from one of his companions to the other intently, Killian bypassed his original theory - his own heart being the needed target. With Emma was missing and what David had shared, it seemed unlikely and a waste of their time. Instead he licked his lips, cautiously preparing himself to speak on the other odd connection that had been growing and solidifying in his mind.  That half remembered case’s detailed were coming clearer as he pulled at the thread of recall. It had been suspected that the perpetrator had espoused the mad gothic ideas of reanimation, much like had been written of in Mary Shelley’s popular novel. He didn’t know any sensible way to broach such an outlandish theory outright with his colleagues, so instead he swept his gaze over to Graham’s face and queried, “Do you remember that mad tale Frankenstein which was all the rage some years back?”

He was banking on the fact that his friend enjoyed those same eerie Victorian authors Liam did, having heard them discuss many such fictional works over scotch or brandy in Liam’s study countless evenings while a fire roared in the hearth and they idled a while in companionable talk before night’s end. He was honestly hoping Graham would know of the twisted story so he would not sound to both men as though he were making up his next conjecture from pure imagination.

Graham’s forehead creased in curious thought, but he nodded, warming to the topic just as Killian had intended. “Yes, I remember it. The main character - a doctor, but more like a mad scientist - creates a man from parts of grave robbed corpses. Hair-raising, genuinely. The author claimed the entire thing came to her as a nightmare, and I would believe it.” He shook his head, then continued, “However, the doctor does bring the inanimate body back to life with electricity from lightning.” Graham’s voice trailed off, eyes widening as he stared back at Killian, understanding dawning on his face. “Surely you don’t mean…?”

Killian didn’t answer aloud. It was clear exactly what he was coming to believe.

Inspector Nolan looked between the two, his lieutenant and his consultant, with increasing impatience and frustration. “Mean what?” he prodded intensely, standing with hands fisted at his side and looking ready to take a swing at one, or both, of them if they didn’t start to explain. “One of you had better tell me what you’re getting at and how it ties to this case, and Emma, before I lose my patience.”

Sighing, Killian stepped forward to face the police officer he had come to genuinely respect and hold in high esteem. He and Liam had not had an easy start in life, as boys and young men who had encountered many coppers, lawyers, and others in positions of power who were as selfish, cruel, and crooked as David was straight and true. It was a new thing to look at this man and know that he truly upheld the law in order to stand for and protect those who could not protect themselves.

Killian hated the picture taking shape in his mind from a mixture of long-buried reminiscence and unsolved cases, but he owed it to them to offer all the information he had. “I’ll explain, Mate,” he assured Nolan in a clipped, heavy tone, clasping his shoulder for a moment before dropping his hand again, “but brace yourself. I’ll wager it’s going to sound a preposterous tale.”

David nodded curtly, crossing his arms over his broad chest and widening his stance as if to tackle whatever Killian said head on. 

“Some years back, when I still worked under my brother in his diplomatic office, there were several suspicious deaths in a single fall and winter. All nameless victims, homeless, without any identification, anything to go on. The distinguishing factor tying them together was… the absence of a vital organ. There were also whispers - rumor and conjecture only, most thought - of an ambassador’s wife who dabbled in the occult and alchemy. Nothing concrete was ever found in order to charge her... but I met her, and the ambassador and their two grown daughters as well,  at more than one political function when I was serving under Liam. It was not something which could be quantified, and shame on me, I did not pursue it. But she could freeze a man’s blood in his veins with a glance; there was truly something unnatural and unsettling about her - a Mrs. Cora Millsen, her name was. I kept my distance beyond a few necessary conversations. I could see she had intent to strike up an arrangement between myself and her younger daughter, Regine, and began to beg off engagements assisting Liam where the family would be in attendance. The ambassador himself, Henrik, was a pleasant fellow, honest and well-liked enough that most overlooked his peculiar family, as he was the one they had dealings with. I cannot say I made the connection until it began to prick my memory with this present case’s similarities, and its same lack of conclusive evidence. Perhaps most horrifying though was that the seemingly unsolvable wave of killings ceased when the Millsen family returned to their country, abruptly and suddenly after the fiancé young Regine did eventually choose, some young equestrian riding champion, died in their home.”

He took a moment to chance a look first at Graham’s stunned expression, the other man probably even remembering those unsolved cases which had continued to trouble his elder brother long after the book on them had been shut, and then to David Nolan’s face, a mask of stony silence. There was nothing for it but to finish what he knew of the sordid tale, so Jones drew a deep breath and plunged on. “Regine refused to go with her family. She came to Liam’s offices, raving about her mother killing her ‘beloved Daniel’. A report was drawn up, but her account was impossible, unbelievable. Nothing came of it. The young woman seemed clearly unhinged by grief and anger, almost deranged. Heaven help me, I was glad when Liam’s colleagues dismissed the charges. Obviously she was troubled and in need of help, but she made me every bit as unsettled as her mother Cora ever had.”

“And what happened to her after that?” David asked skeptically. “There was no more trouble?”

“After that?” Killian replied. “I do not know. She seemed to fade from public view… and I was relieved. I was happy to let her do so. I admit it.”

He looked to Graham then, and his friend took up the story when Killian paused. “It wasn’t always the heart - that was where those cases differed from ours currently.  I remember the incidences you are speaking of Killian, but I failed to make the connection as well.  One was missing lungs, another the kidneys, but there were two or three that were without the heart as well. The past case was kept within the offices of the embassy, largely because the only possible suspect known had immunity. Killian is correct. Something was not right about that woman; pushing her two daughters at any dignitaries who might gain them British citizenship and a finer, fancier life, but yet something cool and detached about her as well, as if all around were pawns to move on some chessboard only she could see. It was rumored she espoused the ridiculous popular idea in some circles at the time that perhaps Dr. Frankenstein was based on some real life doctor. Utter rubbish of course, no sane, self-respecting physician would…” This time Graham broke off in agitation, jerking fingers through his already disheveled hair and mumbling. “Simply not possible…” and “first do no harm” as he paced away from them.

“Anyway,” Killian intoned forcefully, determined to finish the story in short order. “The family’s official dossier attributed the woman with study of the occult and alchemy, as well as a rather accomplished knowledge of anatomy, botany, and medicine in her native land. But there was no motive, no evidence… well, unless you count the rather dramatic coincidence of the daughter’s suitor dropping dead of a heart attack in their parlor. Even that is not a crime in itself, however suspicious it looked that the family fled Britain back to Norway within hours of the incident, and that the bizarre killings then ceased.”

He could tell as he finished recounting the tale that David Nolan was fit to burst with numerous questions and arguments. Yet no words left the man’s mouth; instead it opened and closed mutely before he huffed and turned his back, gathering his composure. They were all quiet for a minute until David turned sharply, speaking in a voice that took command and snapped them into action. “None of that matters at present. What does matter is finding Emma and stopping this killer. Could your brother tell us if the Millsen family, or the wife at least, have returned? If so, we need to know where they’re staying, places they frequent…”

Killian nodded his assent, but it was Graham who spoke. “Liam has never really let that case go; he will no doubt still have documentation of any information that was unearthed, what little there was. Or, if nothing else, he will have kept tabs on the family.”

David sent him to call Liam and sighed, running a hand over his face as he looked once more to Killian. “Let’s hope your brother knows somewhere we can start. That tale of yours was far from comforting, and we need to be doing something.”

“I completely agree,” Killian confirmed gruffly, hoping his face would not betray the panic stirring in his gut. They needed to find Emma Nolan sooner rather than later. He did not wish to contemplate the terrible possibility that not all of her would be in one piece to find.

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

The dark-eyed femme fatale looked down upon the operating table she had modified for her research, hidden in the basement of the home she had let upon her return to London. Most did not even know that the sub-level existed, which was exactly how she needed it - locked away, where she could do her work without fear of discovery.

Her eyes were sharp, narrowing in dangerous concentration as she studied the unconscious form laid out before her on the flat surface, though there was not a mark marring her fair skin, the debilitating cloud of vapour had struck the pretty flowercart girl as hard as any physical blow. Throughout the transport to her lair and depositing her on the hard surface the blonde had not wakened or even stirred. Her long hair was fell around her, hanging off the edges of the worktop and making Emma Swan look all the more vulnerable for her bared neck and shoulders; uncovered, unveiled, in only her thin shift as protection against the darkness and cold creeping in all around her and the jagged knife her abductor wielded. 

Though the inspector’s younger sister - oh yes, she had done her research as well! - was merely the pawn in a sinister plan much deeper and more twisted than any had realized, the fiendish villainess had prepared for all contingencies. Waking up and beginning to fight would not free the lovely bait in her trap; it would only make the sacrifice more satisfying. She had already bound her prey to the table’s surface, at wrists and ankles and around her torso. She would not be making any sort of escape; even as she at last began to stir restlessly. 

Perversely pleased with herself, Regine Millsen, daughter of the once-ousted ambassadors, had used her ill-gotten powers, first learned at her cursed mother’s feet and then honed in hatred and bitterness to something even more potent in order to transport and incapacitate her victims. She had bided her time until she was strong enough, smart enough, and assured of her victory. She had searched until she found the very spell she needed - and all the ingredients but this last one. She had watched long enough to know that the infamous Holmes Jones, cool of head and hard of heart through tragedy’s tempering, cared for this saucy slip of a girl, and when he came to her rescue, she would at last have the armored heart she needed. She would resurrect her mother’s last sacrifice: the man she had loved and lost. Smirking sadistically as she hovered over the younger woman blearily surfacing to a wakefulness that would not be pleasant, Regine considered, How did the poet Eliot put it - ‘pinned and wriggling’ ?  She nodded to herself; like a helpless fly in her web this one was. And finally she would have what she desired most - none could stop her now.

Tagging a few who have been interested in the past:  @csrolereversal​ @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @hollyethecurious​ @cocohook38​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @stahlop​ @laschatzi​ @therooksshiningknight​ @winterbaby89​ @lfh1226-linda​

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Not My Dog, You Dip! || Adam & Ariana

TIMING: Some time before Winn died PARTIES: @walker-journal & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: While taking a night time stroll through the woods with Luna, Ariana comes across a dip ready to attack her dog. Thankfully, Adam happens to be out hunting and they take down the vampire doggo. 

All Ariana had wanted was a nice, peaceful run through the woods with Luna. Despite the lack of sleep she was getting, she had enough pent up frustration to burn off that a run felt mandatory. Luna definitely had the energy for it and had been eager to weave in and out of trees alongside her. They really were so in sync with each other and Ariana couldn’t help but feel she found the perfect companion in Luna. It was why as she heard another dog-like animal approaching, she was quick to place herself between Luna and the very frightening looking dog. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered under her breath as if they all didn’t have canine hearing. Luna was barking now as the large black dog with glowing eyes approached. Definitely not a werewolf. Definitely not a normal dog. Definitely very quickly approaching them. She let out a warning growl and yelled, “Shoo.” The glowing eyes were still focused on Luna. Instinctively, she felt her bones beginning to shift under her skin and beginning to contort. If this dog wanted a fight, then a fight it would get. 

This evening Adam was hunting vampire dogs. Normally something that focused on the local canine population would be more Kaden’s territory. But after one of these alcohol-hating Dracu-dogos had interrupted a fraternity party, Adam had taken this bounty from the Silver Bullet on behalf of Friday vibes everywhere. Vampire Dog was the mutual intersection between Kaden and Alain’s mutual hate-boners, thus Adam felt a private sense of cheekiness at snagging while his elders were busy with possible stripe related matters if social media was anything to go by. 

Since the vamp-varmints were still near a residential area from all reports, Adam was limited to easily concealable weapons. This was a bummer because Dips were far stronger than humans, and could give even a friendly neighborhood mutant like Adam a run for his money. 

What if like...a Dip turned a Chiwawa? Would it still be a killing machine? If a Dip’s fur became midnight black, then would Dalmations keep their spots? 

These and other deep philosophical thoughts were running through Adam’s head when a painful ice-fire sensation brought goosebumps to prickle around his skin and alerted him to the presence of paranormal beings. The hunt had gradually led him from the latest suburban attack locations into the woods. The trucks of red spruce and white pine loomed above the Hunter ashe unholstered a pistol. Summer’s heat made the aroma of fallen needles and soil rise in a thick earthy musk from the ground as Adam tried to silence his footsteps on his way toward the source of the inhuman vibes. The frigid heat climbed up up his spine, throbbing in intensity as the non-human presences drew closer. 

Hiding in the brush put Adam in view of what was definitely a Dip confronting another dog and ...Soccer Girl? But it was Ariana that was the source of the second paranormal presence. The intensity of the paranormal vibes were growing stronger as bones shifted and muscles coiled beneath her skin. The cold rationality of Adam’s training dictated that he should let these two paranormals fight it out. Logically one would kill the other, eliminating one target and leaving the other in a weakened state to be easily finished off or at least not a potential threat to humans for a while. 

Not too long ago Adam would have obeyed procedure and let threats to mankind tear each other apart. But tactics feel very different when you know that the variables had names. 

“Hey! Soccer champ, back the hell up! That stray’s a vampire!” 

There was a low growl coming from her as this strange dog tried to approach and Luna was whining behind her. Ariana didn’t like this one bit. She’d been all ready to transform and just take the clearly monster dog the old fashioned wolf way until she heard a familiar voice. It caught her attention mid-shift and left her stuck in place with claws extending from her fingertips and tufts of gray and white fur on her arms. It was an uncomfortable spot in her transformation to be stuck in, but it still gave her a little more of an advantage against whatever this weird dog animal this was. 

Adam’s words took a moment to register and she swiped at the vampire dog before taking a step back, keeping herself between Luna and the other dog. “A vampire… dog? What,” she asked in a strained voice as she struggled to keep control of herself in his shift between human and wolf. Ariana arched her back slightly to make herself look bigger and let out a snarl which only gave the dog some pause. If it was a vampire, she was sure it had to be killed some special way. There was only a brief thought of why the hell this town had so many types of vampires before she called out, “So like… what the fuck do I do with it?” 

“You should get the hell out of here…. but if not then wait a sec,” noted Adam, a bit squeamish about endangering a teenager who hadn't necessarily been raised to fight monsters. He didn’t really get the vibe that Ariana was played along with that double standard, but at least she put her distance from the dip. “Close your eyes!” 

If Ariana cooperated, the Hunter fired a pistol round into the Dip. Actual bullets woundn’t have done anything, but there was a brief flash of intense light followed by the thick acrid scent of phosphorus. It wasn’t true sunlight, but the tracer round had been created to briefly overwhelm the vampire’s nocturnal senses. The pillared tree trunks and large midnight black dog were briefly cast into the sharp relief by the blinding blast like the figures of a Homeric tableau before momentarily the Dip stumbled and whined in the throws of overstimulation. 

“Heads up.” Adam tossed a water bottle overhead to to Ariana. “Water from the Chalice Well,” came the curt explanation of sacred water from a sacred spring in Glastonbury. “It’ll burn it.” 

His words took a moment to register as she was caught between states. Not that they mattered too much. Ariana had never been one to back down from a fight. Plus, this thing was after her dog. If anyone was doing the ass kicking around here it was her. She shot him a glare. “Fuck that,” she practically growled before she realized he was going to help instead of take over. She closed her eyes as instructed and took another step back to cover Luna’s eyes. “Fine, eyes are closed.” 

The sound of gunfire made Ariana flinch and Luna let out a whimper. Did he just shoot the thing? Did that even work for vampires? Her reflexes were sharp in the moment and she held tightly onto Luna’s leash and instinctively reached a hand up as Adam warned her to catch something. Her eyes were open now and the weird vampire dog seemed to be disoriented. She caught the bottle in her right hand and looked it over momentarily. Not her normal fighting tactic, but she agreed, “Okay, burn the fucker.” She fumbled slightly with the bottle with her still partially wolfy hands, but finally got the cap off before the dog completely rebalanced itself. She slung the water on it and it let out a loud yelp. “Do I just keep pouring water on it? Does that kill it?” 

“Nope,” Adam answered brusquely as he sprinted up from where he’d been poised in the brush. The Hunter holstered his pistol with the unconscious ease of motion that years of practice instils. Adam had always been more of a kinesthetic learner, and required rote repetition to pick up the more academic aspects of hunting that his more intellectually gifted peers had gotten naturally. But in criticals moment his body and reflexes knew what to do, and Adam quickly navigated the root-covered distance between himself, Soccer girl, and the vampire dog. 

Adam drew a stake of white oak, the pale wood stark in the waning crepuscular light. He tossed a spare to Ariana if it looked like she could handle both that and the holy water. The Hunter attempted to circle the Dip from the other side, even as the vampiric canine already showed signs of its burned flesh slowly regenerating with a sickening slither of meat rebinding to bone.  

The Dip struck with a speed that the human eye couldn’t easily follow, it’s body seeming to become one with the growing darkness. For a single moment it appeared to vanish and the evening gloom grew fangs. The trails of red ripped into the Hunter’s bicep as Adam rolled back from the indistinct dark shape a millisecond too slow. 

“It’ll need a stake to the heart,” Adam grunted as scarlet rivulets of blood began to snake down his arm. 

Every sense in her body was on high alert and her heart was thudding loudly against her chest. Ariana let out a groan that sounded somewhere in between human and wolf when Adam told her the holy water wasn’t going to completely do the trick. “Ugh,” she grumbled and kept a close eye on the vampire dog. She wanted to lunge and engage in a ferocious fight. Her bones were practically screaming for it as she was torn between states. She had to keep it together though. Both her dog and another person were here, but this was so much harder than just being fully a wolf. 

The discomfort was easy enough to ignore when there was a threat present. Technically, two if she was going to count the hunter, but it seemed they were working together well. He wasn’t going to try to kill her after this, right? Nope, she couldn’t think of that if she wanted to keep control. The flesh on this dip thing was already regenerating and she caught the stake Adam threw her way. For a moment, it drew her attention away, but when she looked back up, the thing was lunging toward Adam. “Watch out,” she yelled with a hint of a snarl in her voice. Her warning came too late and she cringed as she watched it bite Adam. Luna was whimpering in the background and her purpose was clear as Adam spoke. Stake the stupid vampire dog. 

Instinctively, she lunged forward as Adam shook the dog off him. She tackled the dog to the ground as she tried to keep the stake steady in her hand. She had a fairly decent idea of canine anatomy considering she was kind of a canine in a sense. It turned out she couldn’t hold the damn thing down and get a good grip to stake it. “I’ve got it pinned, quick, stake it.” Then hopefully get the hell away from her. It’d take a moment for the smell of his blood to be not quite so overwhelming. 

Adam had a distinctive childhood of being taught the best penetrative point between ribs before he could recite A through Z, the former being arguably the more practical for life experience. The hard knot-like heart that canines possessed was a trickier shot then bipedal targets, and Adam was grateful for Arianna’s help holding the Dip down as he visualed a point roughly six inches deep in the chest and drove down the white oak stake. 

There was the cold sickly sensation of undead blood across his hands and the brief resistance of flesh before the stake’s progressive became squishy and slick. Then there was suddenly no resistance against Adam at all as the Dip suddenly collapsed into dust.

Adam staggered to his feat, dust-covered stake still clutched in his one functional hand, trying to apply pleasure to the arm wound as he warily backed away from the Werewolf caught in a pre-frenzied state. All sense of friendly cooperation had vanished from Adam’s expression, replaced by calculation as he argued whether Ariana was about to charge him or not. 

As the dog vanished to dust, Ariana slowly backed away and took a few deep breaths. The claws in her hands hurt and the smell of Adam’s blood was calling to her. How good he would taste briefly crossed her mind and she shook the thought away. He was clearly a hunter, too, which wasn’t comforting. She kept a close eye on him as she heaved a few shallow breaths. “Stay back-- I just,” she cringed and leaned back against the tree, “I need a minute.” 

Her breaths felt shallow and her heart was still pounding in her chest. She didn’t trust that he wouldn’t kill her next, but he had tried to help. They hadn’t talked much previously. She knew she could trust Rio, Athena, and Kaden. Adam she wasn’t too sure of and it left her feeling more on edge than she should be in her current state. She remembered Celeste’s calming voice and the way she always instructed her to breathe. She focused on Luna and took a few slow steady breaths. The smell of blood was still in the air, but it was getting easier to ignore as claws and fur disappeared back under her skin. A few more slow breaths and she looked up to Adam, trying to hide any sign of uneasiness. “Okay, I’m fine now. The whole half state thing is a little rough, but I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

She paused for a moment and asked, “You’re not going to hurt me now, are you?” It was apparent he was a hunter, but that wasn’t necessarily bad. Still, she felt inclined to humanize herself to him. “You knew my sister, Celeste-- she was a hunter too. Technically she was my guardian, but I was born like this and she raised me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone… unless you’re like a bleeding heart for the deer population, but I’m good-- I’m fine. You can ask Kaden, Athena, or Rio! Hunters like… know each other, right?” 

Adam didn’t seem particularly reassured by Ariana’s claims, having watched her reassert control over her form with an expression more appropriate to observing a forest conflagration hit a firebreak. The air was thick with the scent of blood, necrotic dust, and woodland pine. Adam’s shoulders rose and fell with carefully regulated breathing as he stayed in a guarded stare, hard brown scrutinizing Arianna between flicking to the woodland trails and shadowed copses of trees around them, as if she might cut loose a howl which would fill the forest’s quiet with reinforcements. 

But as Ariana started mentioning familiar names, uncertainty played across Adam’s features, the cold resolve of being trained to face one threat after another faltered in a furrowing of brows and a subtle shift of posture. 

“Didn’t plan on hurting Celeste’s kid sister no,” Adam admitted truthfully, the name bringing on a prick of pain. “You're just walking your dog and feeding soccer balls to alligators, doesn’t exactly carry a death sentence,” the footballer noted a big curtly as he shifted his attention to the bite wound on his shoulder. 

Whatever Adam saw in the wound elicited a long exhalation between his lips.   

“I’m might be going to bug out and try to drink your blood soon,” the Hunter told Ariana with casual matter-a-factness as if this was a natural progression for the conversation. “So You should probably get home.” 

With a quick whistle and a wave of her hand, Ariana called Luna back over to her who seemed eager to nudge into her legs. They were both okay and Adam wasn’t about to get kill happy on her. As much allowed her to relax a little bit. “Right, cool, okay,” she began still trying to collect her thoughts, “I mean, I don’t think it does either, but I know some hunters think because of what I am-- Just I’m glad you’re not like that.” 

His statement was confusing, but she nodded along and gave him a wave. “Home, yeah, I’ll do that. Uh, thanks for the help with the weird vampire dog. My approach definitely wouldn’t have worked.” It was only a little unnerving that her fight instinct would only get her so far. “Just… I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Be safe.” With one last glance, she began to lead Luna home still confused by that whole encounter.

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (13)

Happy Halloween to you all! I would like to say I was saving this update for Halloween but I really was just that lazy about writing it even though I knew exactly what I wanted to write.

Anyhoo! Considering where we left off last chapter I think we can all assume what happens here. Lila aids an actual terrorist because she is the literal worst.

---

It’s over. It’s finally over.

Marinette breathed in the moment. Lila had finally been exposed. She couldn’t fool anyone anymore. Her old classmates knew the truth and Marinette’s name had been cleared.

It felt so good.

“Marinette?” Nanette scooted closer, “You’ve been really quiet for the past several minutes. Are you okay? Was it the video?”

“They know the truth. Everyone knows she’s a liar. I’m free.” Marinette’s laughter quickly spiraled into overwhelming sobs. Tears of joy. “I’m finally free.”

Nanette, Kagami and Quinn all reached over to envelope her in a hug. Marinette didn’t think that this would hit her so hard. She felt a tad ridiculous crying like this in the middle of the cafe. But goodness help her if she would have been able to stop.

Her phone buzzed on the table drawing her attention away. She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away. “You guys can let go now.” She told her friends, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Kagami asked.

“Yeah. All that stress about Lila finally left my body and it shook me up more than I thought it would.” she glanced at her phone. She missed whoever was calling her.

Kagami’s phone started buzzing this time.

“It’s Adrien,” Kagami answered, “Hello--huh? Adrien, slow down, I can’t understand you.”

The others stopped talking and looked to Kagami. “Yeah, she’s here.” Kagami looked at Marinette, “We’re at the Winking Violet Cafe. What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Adrien?” Marinette got closer to the phone, “What’s wrong?”

“Marinette! Lila got akumatized and she’s hunting down everyone that exposed her.” Adrien’s voice sounded panicked, “You need to go and hide.”

“Are you safe?” Hello again stress, missed you the whole ten seconds you were gone.

“I’m okay. Just find a good hiding spot and stay safe. Ladybug and Chat Noir will take care of Lila.”

“Yes they will.” Marinette clenched her fists, “You stay safe too.”

She looked at her friends. “Lila is akumatized so we need to get to a safe place.”

“Too late!” A voice outside the cafe snarled. The windows crashed and everyone ducked for cover from the flying glass shards.

An enormous fox with nine long tails stood in the middle of the cafe. It’s eyes trained solely on Marinette now sprawled on the ground.

“Marinette,” the fox growled, “You wanted to paint me as a monster so now that’s what I am and you are going to pay!”

“Lila, stop this!” Marinette yelled at her.

“I am not Lila! I am Kitsune! And you are dead meat!” Kitsune pounced at Marinette.

“Back off!” Kagami threw herself between Marinette and Kitsune. She was wielding a table chair like she was some kind of old lion tamer. “Marinette! Run!”

“Kagami--!”

“You think you can take me?” Kitsune laughed. “One pathetic little wannabe hero against a monster?”

“How about two?” Quinn jumped in as well.

“DIE YOU POKEMON WANNABE!” Nanette threw Marinette’s muffin at Kitsune. There is a literal glass vase that would do for a better distraction but instead she sacrificed the soft food item. Wasteful!

“But--” Marinette couldn’t just leave her friends but she also needed to get away to transform.

“GO!” The three of them yelled at her.

With a heavy heart she pushed off the floor and made a break for the exit. Kitsune tried to follow but Kagami, Nanette, and Quinn blocked her way. She needed to find a secluded spot and fast!

“Come back here!” Kitsune pounded down the street after Marinette.

“I gotcha!” Marinette was scooped up and vaulted into the air.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette looked at her partner, “How did you find me?”

“Uh...your friend Adrien told me.” Chat answered.

“Adrien? Is he okay?” Marinette asked, now even more worried.

“He’s safe. I promise.” He set Marinette down on top of a roof, “Stay here. Ladybug and I will take care of Kitsune.”

“Thanks, Chat Noir.” Marinette waited until he was out of sight before opening her purse, “He’s gonna need help. Tikki, transform me!”

As soon as she was powered up Marinette took off to take down Kitsune. She should have saw this coming. Of course Lila would get akumatized after she was exposed. Nothing to do now but take her down and purify the akuma before she hurt anyone else.

She found Kitsune prowling the streets and snapping at anyone not quick enough to get out of her way. “This isn’t ideal.” Marinette muttered. She couldn’t even see an akuma object on her anywhere.

“You can say that again.” Chat Noir sighed. Marinette hadn’t even heard him approach. “I barely managed to get to Marinette before our nine tailed friend down there tried to eat her.”

“I was having such a good day before this.” Marinette sighed, “Did you happen to see anything that could be holding the akuma earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Perfect.”

“Do we have a plan?”

“Go down there, protect civilians, keep Kitsune detained until we find the akuma, kick some butt.”

“Are you still sick? You’re usually a little more serious in these matters.”

“I got a lot of energy and I wanna do some butt kicking. Let’s do this!” Marinette jumped into the fray with Chat Noir behind her.

She lashed out her yo-yo wrapping around Kitsune’s throat and pulled her back from a group of civilians like a dog on a leash. “Get out of here!”

The civilians sped off just as Kitsune threw the yo-yo off. She turned to Marinette and Chat Noir baring her teeth and growling. “I was hoping to sink my teeth into a baker’s daughter but I’ll settle for hero instead.”

Kitsune lunged at them but they dodged out of the way. Chat Noir tripped her up and beat her down with his staff as best he could while Marinette leashed her and searched for the akuma. There really isn’t anything on her. She’d have to get closer. Maybe there was a necklace or something hidden in her fur.

“Chat Noir!” Marinette yelled, “Cover me!”

“On it!” Chat Noir jumped on Kitsune’s back, extending his staff so it stuck between her jaws like a crude bit.

She slid under Kitsune’s belly and groped around her neck. There has to be something!

Kitsune started to buck and thrash wildly. Marinette delved her hand deeper into her fur. It was like putting a hand in a wolf’s fur, it just kept going.

“AAAHHH!” Chat Noir was sent flying as Kitsune managed to knock him off her back.

“Darn it!” Marinette tried to roll out of the way but Kitsune was faster and swiped a massive paw at her head.

She pulled herself onto the nearest roof with her yo-yo and held the side of her head. It didn’t feel like she was hurt but one of her ribbons was gone. She pulled out the other ribbon and tied her hair back in a single ponytail for the time being.

“I’m back!” Chat Noir huffed as he made it back to the action. “You’d think I’d be used to getting thrown around like that but it never gets any easier.”

“Hope you’ve recovered because we still need to figure out where the akuma is hiding.” Marinette stared down at Kitsune who paced the street growling at them and carrying on about heroes ruining everything.

“Wait, I got it!” Chat Noir exclaimed, “I know where the akuma must be!”

“Where?”

“You see the tails?” Chat Noir pointed to the nine long tails Kitsune had. Each was tied off with what looked like a ribbon of sorts. “Those ties on them are the only other thing on her. The akuma must be hiding in one of those.”

“You’re right!” How had she not seen that before. “How’d you figure that out?”

“Well I was gonna make a comment about how cute the single ponytail looked on you when I had the realization. Doesn’t Lila usually wear her hair with little hair ties near the ends? Much like the ties on the end of Kitsune’s tails?”

“Chat, you’re brilliant!” Marinette praised her partner, “Since we know where the akuma is I think it’s time for this. Lucky Charm!”

She thrust her yo-yo into the air and out of the bright light dropped a plastic container. She opened it up and took a whiff. “Hoo!” she pinched her nose, “That is some seriously strong red pepper flakes.”

“What are we gonna do with that?” Chat asked.

Marinette looked around for something to help her. That hose, Chat Noir, his staff, her yo-yo, and the very potent red pepper flakes.

“I got it!” she explained her plan to Chat Noir. “Do you understand? She handed him the container.”

“You can count on me, my lady!” he jumped back onto the street drawing Kitsune’s attention.

While he was keeping her distracted Marinette grabbed the discarded hose laying on the street. “Now!” she shouted.

Chat Noir started spinning his staff until it created a powerful tunnel of wind and uncorked the container of pepper flakes so they flew directly into Kitsune’s face.

“Achoo!” Kitsune sneezed, “What do you think--achoo! A little pepper can’t--achoo! Achoo!”

Kitsune kept sneezing giving Marinette the opening she needed. She lashed out her yo-yo entangling her feet and knocking her to the ground. Next she bound the tails together with the house and pulled the ribbons off of all of them. She ripped each ribbon in half until a dark butterfly flew out of one.

“No more evil doing for you, little akuma.” she captured it in her yo-yo before releasing it purified back into the world, “Bye bye little butterfly!”

Chat Noir tossed her the pepper container. “Miraculous Ladybug!” the ladybugs went about correcting all the damage Kitsune had done. Including replacing Marinette’s single ponytail with her pigtails again.

“Pound it.” The duo bumped fists in victory.

“Huh?” Lila was back to normal and gazed around at the street. “But, I was--” she saw Ladybug and Chat Noir a few feet from her and frowned. “If it isn’t Crap Noir and Ladybarf.”

“Hey! I know you don’t like me but there is no reason to pick on my partner.” Marinette snapped at her. “We just saved you from destroying the city, again.”

“Whatever. This is the worst day ever!” Lila stomped her foot, “First with that pampered brat’s presentation and now this! I’m going home!”

Chat Noir didn’t let anything show as Lila stormed off. Usually he’d at least try to be the assuring one in these instances but he seemed to be basking in her bad mood as much as Marinette was.

“Do you think she’s okay to leave alone?” Marinette asked Chat Noir. “She seems really mad. What if she gets akumatized again?”

“I don’t think it’s that bad. She’ll sulk and fester in her anger for a while but I don’t think it’ll be so powerful as to get her akumatized twice in the same day.” Chat Noir shrugged.

“I hope you’re right.” Her earrings beeped. “I’m almost out of time. See you later, Chat Noir.”

“Have a wonderful rest of your day, my lady.” Chat Noir bowed before taking off in the other direction.

Marinette found an alley a couple streets down from the cafe to transform back in. Tikki nestled herself snugly in Marinette’s purse to munch on her cookie as they walked back to the cafe.

When she walked in everyone was in a buzz about the latest akuma attack. Kagami, Quinn, and Nanette were crowded in the corner looking at their phones frantically. Quinn noticed Marinette enter first and ran up to her.

“You’re okay!” Nanette and Kagami followed suit to crush Marinette in their arms.

“Of course I am.” Marinette assured them, “Is everyone here okay?”

“No!” Quinn smacked her arm, “You scared us half to death! The last we saw you a giant fox was chasing you down the street. We’ve been worried sick! You didn’t answer any of our calls, we thought something bad may have happened to you.”

“Sorry,” Marinette checker her phone. Sure enough there were a bunch of missed calls listed on her phone. Quinn, Nanette, Kagami, Alya, Aurore, and even one from Wayhem.

“She’s here now and she’s in one peice.” Kagami said, “That’s all that matters.”

“Well,” Nanette set her hands on her hips, “To celebrate not being mauled by a giant fox creature and the downfall of a horrible lying she-demon I say we take this party back up to my room for an impromptu dance party. Who’s with me?”

“Sounds ridiculous,” Kagami shook her head, “I’m in.”

“Yes!” Nanette grabbed her arm, “I knew I’d wear you down to the dumb fun level as the rest of us!”

The four of them adjourned to the apartment above the shop and filed into Nanette’s room. While the other three partied it up Marinette took a minute to call back her other friends to assure them she was okay. They wanted to talk more about Lila’s well deserved downfall but Marinette didn’t have the energy for it right now. They’d all meet up tomorrow to talk about it.

After her calls were finished she joined her friends back in the small bedroom where Quinn was trying to get Kagami to floss. Oh what sweet, weird, friends she had. Wasn’t flossing outdated yet? Who in the past couple months was flossing?

“I nabbed this from the cafe,” Nanette handed Marinette a muffin. “Since I sorta lobbed yours at an akuma earlier.”

“Thanks,” Marinette took her muffin and nibbled it as her friends laughed and danced around the room. Today was a great day.

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(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (14)

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(tagged)

@northernbluetongue @heredemaquam @zazzlejazzle @lady-flora-of-slytherin @ladylb @immatureidiot101 @kristycocopops @schrodingers25 @sublimemagazinestarlight @shamefullove 

[nev3rfound]

not who you think : p.6

brief summary: whilst keeping you hostage, bucky learns about your brothers intentions and how he can keep both you and steve safe. that is until steve interrupts a situation he never anticipated witnessing

word count: 2k requested: yes - by so many of you so thank you! warnings: mentions of violence, some language 

* masterlist of sorts *

* commissions 

P1 / P2 / P3 / P4 / P5 / P6 / P7 / P8

(I’ve just finished planning how this series’ ends and oof. shit hurts)

Opening your eyes you blink a few times, hoping the weight holding your eyelids down will ease. “God,” You mutter under your breath as the pulsing in your head increases. 

“She awake?” You listen to one familiar voice, and you force a light laugh.

“Of course it’s you.” You comment, slowly lifting your head up to be greeted by small smiles from Sam and Bucky. Your memory of the events leading up to this moment remains hazy. All you remember was Jason, him running at you, the silver blade and the luminous shades of red and blue from the sirens. “Whose genius idea was this then? Kidnapping me?” You ask them both and watch as Sam immediately points to Bucky who merely rolls his eyes in response. 

“Wow, good to know you’re reliable Sam.” Bucky mutters as he steps forward, glancing down at the wound on your leg. “Take it that was Jason’s doing?” 

“What’s it to do with you, Buck. I told Jason I don’t want any part of it.” You tell him, watching as Bucky keeps his cool eyes locked on yours. “Not that you’d believe that for a second anyway.” You mutter under your breath, knowing it’s the truth.

Sam places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, averting the former assassin's attention. “She’s telling the truth.” He states bluntly, causing you to raise an eyebrow this time.

“And what makes you so sure?” You ask Sam, wishing you could cross your arms if they weren’t tied up. 

Shuffling closer toward you, Sam holds back his fear as his eyes lock on yours. “I know when people lie. And trust me, you’re not one of ‘em.” 

You glance over to Bucky, smiling. “See?” You retort before motioning to your hands and legs. “Now may I be untied so I can ensure my friend and colleague isn’t fearful of my location. I have classes to assist you know.” You huff, watching as Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “Silent treatment, huh? Okay.” 

“Look, we’re not planning on hurting you, Y/n.” Bucky tells you, his arms returning to his sides as he gives up on trying to outdo you in a silent match. “We just need to keep you low for a while, until Jason is gone or the whole thing has blown over.” Bucky explains, but you shake your head to him.

“Bucky, it isn’t going to blow over. How many times do I have to tell you!” You raise your voice, the irritation, the mild pain in your leg, the heartache you have for Steve. All of it is rising to the surface at the same time, you’re close to your tether. “Jason has a deadline. Kill Steve or he dies.” You state coldly, hearing the words leaving your lips as they’re not your own. 

Bucky straightens up and sighs under his breath. “So you backed down then. For Steve?” 

Lifting your heavy eyes up, you simply nod. “Of course I did. I, I’d do anything for Steve.” You explain, glancing to Sam. “Am I lying?” 

Sam shakes his head, walking toward a door and Bucky follows him toward the exit as you remain seated, not that you had a choice in the matter. “What’d we do now?” Sam mutters to Bucky who glances over at you and turns back to face the guy he’s dragged into this mess. 

“We gotta tell someone.” Bucky releases a sigh of defeat, something he didn’t want to do.

“What would you do if it was Rebecca, Bucky?” You call out, interrupting their conversation. 

Closely, Sam watches Bucky’s expression change. His hardened eyes softening at the mention of the girl's name. “You don’t get to say her name.” Bucky spits, but you don’t flinch like most would.

“What would you do, Barnes?” You repeat the question, cutting it short. “Would you side with your sister because she’s family, or let her die because she isn’t who you grew up loving?” 

Bucky turns back to face you. “I’d beat it out of her until she came to some sense.” Bucky mumbles a response, causing you to roll your eyes.

“What would you do today, Bucky. In this era.” You remark, and Bucky simply shrugs his shoulders. “Exactly. If Rebecca were to appear, a trained assassin about to kill Steve, would you let her and lose your best friend, or watch her die?” 

The soldier remains silent. Words failing him as he lowers his head, the response you anticipated. 

“She would still be your family, right?” You add, watching as Bucky nears the door. “And you’d willingly let her die?” You’re shouting, eyes focused on him as he opens the door and slams it shut behind him. 

“You tried.” Sam mutters, giving you a half-smile before walking out of the door, closing it behind him.

You let out a small sigh before glancing down at the ropes tied on your hands. As if Barnes really thought this would hold you here. “Here goes nothin’” You mutter as you begin to force your body up and slam down, falling backwards. 

Groaning loudly, you wince. You’ve torn your stitches, and you’re still tied up.

The heavy door opens, and wide eyes stare at you from Bucky. You let out a small laugh. “Any help?” 

*

Bucky sat opposite you for hours, listening to you explain everything that happened. He wouldn’t leave without knowing every detail, what your brother said to you and what you might know about these people determined to kill Steve. 

“But why Steve?” Bucky asks once again and you let out a long sigh. 

“I told you, Buck.” You repeat yourself, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Steve is a good human being, and they do not want that. He’s the defence they can’t beat. And we both know the only way around someone you can't’ beat is to kill ‘em off.” 

A shudder runs through Bucky, having seen you so sweet days prior and now bloodied up, sounding like the young woman he trained. “Careful Y/n,” He warns. “you’re starting to sound like him.” 

You stare blankly at Bucky, hating the fact he said those words. “I’ll never be like him, Bucky.” You tell him coldly. “I promised myself that when I left.” 

Leaning forward, Bucky rests his arms across his thighs. “So why’d you do it? Why leave when you had that perfect cover-up at all times?” 

“You know I was going to die in there, Bucky.” You state, thinking back to how thin you became. Your spine poked through your skin, you were forever covered in cuts and bruises until Bucky came to help you, took you under his wing or moreso metal arm. “I couldn’t take it, the idea of being a cold-blooded killer until I was killed or tortured.” 

“I know, and I am sorry you lived through that, and I am sorry I made Jason who he is.” It never left him, even after everything Bucky still felt the guilt eat at him. When you left, he couldn’t stay. He made your brother into a heartless monster and you an assassin with too much of a heart. Bucky tried looking for you, but he never succeeded. “I tried looking for you, you know.” Bucky speaks up quietly, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Guess you didn’t look very hard.” You retort, a short laugh following. 

Bucky shakes his head. “Word got ‘round you changed your identity. With no luck with technology, I ran into dead end after dead end.” 

“I couldn’t let anyone find me. I needed to start again, even if it meant moving away from everything I knew.” You can feel yourself back to the day you left. You were out in the world, no longer on a tight leash waiting to be pulled back. 

It was overwhelming, terrifying and brilliant all at once. You could run and scream, cry and sing without consequences. Immediately you cut your hair, you changed your personality and style to blend in rather than stand out. You dedicated a year to blending in. That was until you met Steve. 

Never in your life had you found someone instantly caring like Steve. A simple accident, a misunderstanding lead to so much more. His gentle hand on your arm to help you to your feet, the generous offer of buying another coffee as he smiled with his bright blue eyes. You were feeling things you hadn’t felt in years; butterflies. 

“Something changed though.” Bucky states, watching as your eyes drift off, clearly out of the room and trapped in your own thoughts. 

Clicking his fingers in front of your face, you snap out from thinking of Steve’s smile as he brought you close to his chest in the middle of the night, whispering sweet nothings to you. 

“What?” You ask, sniffing softly. 

“Nevermind,” Bucky mutters as he rises to his feet, unsure what’s left to say. 

*

Walking through the compound with heavy feet, Steve can feel his heart being dragged ten paces behind him. Never had he felt the weight being so unbearable as he walked on shattered glass. 

“Sam?” Steve calls out, seeing Sam sat at the kitchen counter despite it being 2am. “What’re you doing up?” 

Sam looks at Steve with wide eyes before averting his gaze back to his phone. “Nothin’” He comments. “just reading about the news, seeing what’s going on in the world.” 

Steve nods before sitting down a few seats from Sam. With a heavy sigh, he rests his arm on the table, holding his head in his hand. “How’d you do it?” Steve questions and Sam raises an eyebrow. “How’d you move on?” 

Looking to his friend, Sam can see how much it’s affecting Steve. It’s only been a few days, but you’re definitely on his mind. Sam knows heartache, and Steve is a clear example of the damage it can have. 

“Sometimes you don’t, other times you gotta make friends with your heart.” Sam states as he walks over, patting Steve’s back. “There will be others, Steve.” He tries to reassure his friend, but Steve shrugs his hand off, giving him a cold look.

Steve shakes his head. No, there won’t be. “You didn’t know her, Sam.” Steve comments and Sam remains silent. “She wasn’t what she seems. There was so much more to her than meets the eye. She is beautiful, full of mystery and full of love. God, she had so much love to give and she was kind enough to share it with me?” The longer he talks, the heavier his voice begins to sound. 

Sam bites his tongue, wishing he could point in the direction of where you are. That you’re in the building, sitting in a room with Bucky. But he knows he can’t. It won’t help anything, only make things worse. 

“Have you spoken to Bucky about it?” Sam asks, hoping to lead him toward Bucky. “I know he’s still up, you know how he is.” Sam rises to his feet, taking his phone before heading out of the kitchen. “Just ask FRIDAY, Steve. And remember, trust your heart, it’ll heal you.” 

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve smiles to his friend as he wanders out of sight. “FRIDAY, where is Bucky?” 

“Sargent Barnes is in the lower quarters of the compound.” FRIDAY announces to Steve and he hums, furrowing his eyebrows together before heading off as curiosity plagues his mind. 

As Steve wanders further, he can faintly hear Bucky talking to someone. He pauses outside of a large metal door, one he vaguely remembers from Tony’s tour of the house. This was where they initially planned on keeping Bruce in case he went green, but it wasn’t going to be strong enough for him leaving it a redundant space. 

“Why not tell him?” Steve leans closer, hearing Bucky’s voice. 

His hand hesitates on the doorknob and applies pressure, ready to open it. “It’ll break his heart, Bucky.” 

Your voice. You. You’re here? Steve freezes momentarily, heat and hate flooding through his body before he forces the door open, expecting the worst. 

“Steve?” Bucky states with wide eyes. 

“Hey, Steve.” You whisper, avoiding his gaze as his eyes are icy as he stares at you both.

“Either one of you care to explain this?” Steve asks, watching as Bucky looks over to you, hoping you’ll take the lead.

taglist for this series (if you wanna be tagged feel free to ask!) - if your url has been crossed through it means it did not work for some reason

@dlb113 @savagittariuspy @classyunknownlover @kit-kat-katie99@untoldshortsofthefandoms@avengemepercy@galacticstxrdust@benhardyslut@nerdy-jelly-art @buckyxwintersxldier @thefandomplace@littlegangrel@geek-and-proud @dottirose @marvelousmendess@myboyfriendgiriboy @nicole-lynne @weasleyisourjedi @oais-sis@isabella212@joe-mazzello-is-my-dad@capstopavenger @sucre-caroline @rinymichelle321@sltwins@evanstush @smileyishere92 @dark-night-sky-99@daintyreindeer@amillionworlds @imjustanonymousy @love-me-91393@tearsforhan@newyorkcomixx @luckylightfiction @peek-a-boo-boo-boo@silverinealchemy @xjaelee @carebaredanvers @caninoona @shallowshawn @jennifersier @darkdragonpheonix @mca-attack21 @capstopavenger @i-love-superhero

[blissfulalchemist]

Can I have RowanChance for the OTP thing, my dear? 😘

Okay I managed to get this one done just before I have to get ready for work. Just like with you and WrenWes this will be more from Chance’s view. I tried though. 

Rowan x Chance

General:

Rate the Ship -  

Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! This is new and I am loveing it!| Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - This could really be a long term relationship. Chance doesn’t hold his breath or want to think about it ending because that’s not really helpful to anyone. He wants to enjoy the moment. I’m sure Rowan forever the optimist sees this going till the end.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Okay listen, Chance falls fast for people, he doesn’t say anything until he’s sure that’s what he feels. Chance starts to feel in love by like the fourth or fifth date but won’t say anything about it until a few months in. Rowan most likely said it first.

How was their first kiss? - Third date Chance “hears” something in the distance and moves them behind a tree. Tells Rowan that they should kiss to hide from whatever creature he comes up with on the spot better. It’s soft and warm mixed with smiles both knowing how it didn’t need to be that elaborate.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Chance isn’t scared of commitment but he’s not really one to want to get married. There will forever be this fear that it’ll end badly if they do, that the curse is going to hit another generation. Rowan seems better adjusted and will instead opt for a proposal of long term commitment for Chance. So like instead of “Will you marry me?” it’s more “Will you join me on this adventure forever?”

Who is the best man/men? - Chance would have Wheaty as the best man, other groomsmen would be Hurk Jr and Sharky, who promise that they don’t have fireworks hidden on them. 

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - I mean Wren obviously. She’s also the one to officiate.

Bonus: Boomer is the ring bearer.

Who did the most planning? - It wasn’t a very big thing there wasn’t much planning involved, though Chance got overwhelmed and let Rowan do most of it helping where he could and needed too.

Who stressed the most? - Chance. He has a hard time letting go of the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. He also just wants the day to be everything Rowan wanted. 

How fancy was the ceremony? - Not the fanciest, it was optional to wear super fancy dress wear. Chance wore a nice suit, one his dad would wear to functions to present findings at and he would also have his grandfather’s formal ring as his commitment ring. Rowan would wear a lovely white dress with accents of dark green.

Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 This ceremony was never meant to be big, and became bigger than Chance anticipated, like he thought just the two of them wheaty and wren, but it had nice touches and felt like something formal while being outdoors. For sure happened out in the Whitetails in Rowan’s favorite spot.| Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Eli. Chance doesn’t know a ton of people, basically if he didn’t think to invite you then that should say something.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Both, though Rowan a little more so. 

Who is the one to instigate things? - Chance once comfortable will always love to have his hands on Rowan which turns to teasing that then turns to more. 

How healthy is their sex life? - Healthy, Chance is always up for some and even when they get busy the two like to make sure there’s some time in there for fun. 

Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 Minimum once a week but there is no objection to more, I am also going to count just anything that ends in orgasm as sex because at the end of the day that’s what matters most.| 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Chance has done...well a lot….he’s down to try anything once. He let’s Ro set the pace on it though.

Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 Look again Chance has done a lot and tried different things, will admit he doesn’t mind being topped by women, quiets enjoys it to be frank.| 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Chance will last as long as needed for Ro to get her pleasure. Boy is a giver.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Yes. 

How rough are they in bed? - I cheat because honestly just depends on the mood and where they’re at. 

Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - Chance loves to cuddle and loves holding Ro. He likes to stroke her hair or make her smile so he can see her dimples. He loves to be able to have physical contact with Ro, makes him feel safe.

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - I don’t think I could see them having any naturally. Maybe one if it was fated.

How many children will they adopt? - Two. Chance loves the idea of adoption a lot more given that he was adopted himself. 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - They try to make it equal but Chance is used to seeing single dad life and so defaults to it.

Who is the stricter parent? - While Rowan isn’t strict in the bad way, she would be perceived as the stricter parent cause Chance can’t take many things seriously. He can be a big kid himself so there’s that.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Again Rowan. Chance would encourage or try it first just to make sure they won’t get hurt to badly.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Both do, though what their contents are varies on who packed them. 

Who is the more loved parent? - Loved equally but like they have a cooler aunt so they don’t exist once she comes around. 

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - For all of Chance’s joking and not being serious, he takes education very seriously. He’s right there making sure his kids and others have what they need to succeed. 

Who cried the most at graduation? - Both cried equally. Chance cried more later behind closed doors, he’s got a lot of feelings about it. 

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Chance will but I feel so will Rowan and dole out the punishment at home that is appropriate. 

Cooking: 

Who does the most cooking? - Rowan is the better cook so she does.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? -  I would have to say Rowan cause Chance is someone that lived off of gas station food and once you get to that point I don’t think you become picky about food.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Rowan gives Chance the list and he gets everything to her liking. 

How often do they bake desserts? - Rowan bakes a lot of them by hand. Chance bakes the boxed desserts for her on occasion.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - They are even, though more towards the meat side. Rowan is a hunter so there’s always some fresh game, Chance fishes enough that there is always some fish in that freezer too.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - It would be who can beat the other to it first. 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Chance. There’s only so much home cooking you can do and he likes to show Rowan off. 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Chance. He gets lost in his head and also is not the best cook to begin with.

Chores: 

Who cleans the room? - Chance, sometimes things have to be a certain way.

Who is really against chores? - Neither likes doing them but it has to be done.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Whoever gets to it first but like they live out in the middle of the woods so they don’t have too if they let the dogs out.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Neither. 

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Rowan, I feel like she cares more about appearance than Chance. 

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Rowan, she has better eyes for spotting things like that. 

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Rowan, more so if Chance decides to “help” her.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They both like walking the dogs so they each get a leash. Or the dogs become trained enough to not be leash bound.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Major holidays they decorate. 

What are their goals for the relationship? - Chance has the goal of having a partner in the adventure and journey we call life.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Chance. He gets weird sleep schedules. 

Who plays the most pranks? - Chance. Nothing too harmful, but he likes seeing chemical reactions occur here and there. Rowan tries to get him back and while he figures it out quickly sometimes and just lets it happen so he can see her smile.

[motheatenscarf]

So, I recently recommended Castlevania to people based on the first 2 seasons, and having now seen the 3rd season I’m still keeping that recommendation but with some pretty strong warnings going in.

The TL;DR version is, I still recommend this series with the caveat that your mileage may vary depending on your tolerance for sexual themes and more specifically your sensitivity toward sexual assault. 

So uh, spoiler in the spoiler disclaimer, but content warning for discussion of the above themes. I apologize to mobile readers; this got long. I only feel the need to say all this because I have in the past recommended this show to people before these elements came into play in the first 2 seasons. So, I kind of owe it to those people who may have taken my recommendation to follow through now.

I’m sure it won’t come as a shock to anyone (or at least I hope it won’t) that Castlevania, the show which introduces its wandering drunk protagonist by having him overhear two inbred shit eating peasants in a bar talking about literal goat fucking, has a pretty cynical view on humanity and is a pretty hard R.

Most of that R rating and cynicism has been in regard to gore and Christianity and I’ve been extremely on board and pettily here for it. For all that it’s a gory mess with plenty of colorful language, however, it’s been extremely restrained when it comes to sexuality. 

For my ace ass, that was kind of an appeal. I’m not opposed to sexuality in my media, but people do tend to make it... egregious and often unbalanced. It often feels that any media that gets that R rating just goes “Fuck it, may as well!” regarding shoehorning its nudity and sexuality. And frankly, censorship laws in the United States are FUCKING ANTIQUATED AS ALL HELL, so a rape scene where the camera ogles the woman’s breasts as she’s assaulted? Yeah, sure, that’s an R. Consensual sex scene that shows no genitalia but the woman in clear arousal? That’s an NC-17 for you. And that’s just women; don’t get me started on queer censorship, we’d be here all day. So, given the country I live in, the fact that I like horror and fantasy, and the fact that I’m an asexual woman, you can maybe see where my stance on sexual themes in any adult oriented media is just, an exasperated sigh as I boredly sit through another rape scene.

So, our first scene in Castlevania S3 is of Alucard, having been alone for the last month now, slowly losing his mind to crippling loneliness and overwhelming guilt after having murdered his father where Trevor and Sypha took him at his word when he said he would be the lone guardian standing vigil over Dracula’s castle and the Belmont library. Turns out he was wrong about being fine, which we knew from last season as it ended with him alone in his room sobbing his heart out, but he’s already losing his grip here as he makes little puppets of Sypha and Trevor to carry conversation with. An eccentricity he fully acknowledges is insane.

Our next scene confirms through dialogue that Trevor and Sypha are now in a sexual relationship, even though they’re only ever shown cuddling up in bed talking about The Plot and various happenings a few episodes later. Nothing explicit is ever depicted between them.

Alucard, on the other hand, picks up a couple of strays who were the thralls of one of the vampires killed last season, specifically the evidently Japanese one named “Cho” and our two new characters............ I had to google their names, Sumi and Taka, are also Japanese. They ask him to train them to kill vampires to protect their clan. Alucard, clearly remembering what he said about “Think of all the things Dracula could have done if he’d put all this knowledge toward helping people instead of giving into his rage and destroying them,” decides to agree and help them. He is clearly trying to be the person his mother would have wanted. Aww. 

Except not aww, Taka and Sumi are two clearly traumatized and deeply flawed people from the masses which this series is, again, extremely cynical toward. They are unsubtley fixated on learning more and more powerful ways to kill vampires and Alucard is pretty chill about it because he can’t see through the 4th wall and hear the ominous music or the glances they exchange when he’s not looking. This is purely for the audience. They at one point have a discussion away from him where they try to psychoanalyze him and decide that his isolation is a self imposed punishment for killing Dracula and that this is as close as he can get to killing himself without actually doing it. THIS IS FOR THE AUDIENCE. Then they mentioned they should give him a reward for what he’s done for them.

What happens next is difficult to break down from their standpoint, as they’re not particularly well developed characters, not being Important Characters but just a duo from the masses which the show dismisses, but if you’ve caught a single frame of Alucard this season, is easy enough to explain from his perspective. They come to him at night when he can’t sleep, tell him he deserves a reward, and proceed to make sexual advances toward him, which he seems somewhat embarrassed and confused by at first before quickly becoming a participant in. Again, it is well established by this point that he desperately misses Trevor and Sypha, whom he was already jealous of the connection between last season, and is profoundly lonely. The sex, which he consents to, is clearly a proxy as it’s all he can get for now. The sex is also, unfortunately, initiated under false pretenses, and ends abruptly when the whole thing turns into a Christ allegory and they pin Alucard in the crucifix position after having betrayed him with a kiss (and then some) and demand he show them the secrets they’re certain he’s hiding from them. Alucard tries to reason with them, still insisting he knows they’re scared but that he’s been nothing but honest with them, but they’re too traumatized and broken to believe him, and so he kills them in self defense, all still right there on the bed where they were having sex. He then, reminiscent of Dracula from the series opening, stakes their bodies before the entrance to the castle as a warning to those who would come to harm him, telling the audience that he is Lisa’s son in many ways, but he is also Dracula’s, and is realizing with time and experience now that his father’s sentiment toward humanity may not have been so misplaced.

So you know. Lot to unpack there...

BUT THAT AIN’T IT, FOLKS!

There’s another, far less interesting (unbiased review here, folks) character named Hector. He’s a forgemaster which means he makes monsters which are loyal only to him. He’s no Isaac (whom I’d mentioned his backstory/characterization just kinda left a general bad taste in my mouth before but OH BABY, AM I CHANGING TUNE ON THAT ONE. Could write a whole review on Isaac but I’m gonna stay focused here) but he’s apparently here to stay, so fine. 

There was an evil femme fatale vampire last season who kinda bored me who tricked Hector into betraying Dracula and then took him captive when she got what she wanted out of him. She did not trick him with sex at least but was still “evil manipulative femme fatale” which... *yawn* In S3 she drags him back to her home country and then proceeds to talk to her own sort of war council on how to get him to make a monster army for them to use that won’t just kill them all.

The lesbian vampire war council are fuckin interesting and I love 2 of them. The other one is an actually evil seductress femme fatale who DOES manipulate him with sex. Yay. How original. Well at least there are finally enough interesting, compelling women in the story that this isn’t our token evil female vampire so it’s easy for me to shrug off and forgive. All you need to know about Hector is he played with dead animals as a kid, it freaked his parents out when he kept reviving dead things, he killed them, now he’s a dead critter loving sensitive weirdo who was willing to participate in a “humane cull” that would leave the human race in essentially livestock pens for vampires. 

So the entire time the red headed femme fatale is trying to get him to see that she’s not so bad, vampires can be civil, we don’t want what Dracula wanted, my sister didn’t trick you she appealed to your reason, blahblahblah, she’s calling him a “good boy” and leading him on, i fucking quote, “walkies” with a leash. There’s also a comment that she tended to an injured spider once. So,, y’know, she’s him, which means she’s best suited to manipulating him. And Hector even admits to being aware of what she’s doing and calls her out on it, but he’s trapped and doesn’t have much of a choice other than to go along with what she does and weirdly seems almost content at times. His weird naturalist... weirdness probably gives him some inferiority complex when it comes to vampires, I don’t know, his backstory and motive are not connected in the least and I’m frankly not interested enough in this character to give him much contemplation since it’s pretty clear there wasn’t much going into his creation. Anyway. Long story short, she eventually, with only technically lying to him about the purpose of a particular ring she wears, lures him into having sex with her and in the heat of passion has him swear loyalty to her before slipping a cursed ring on him which binds him exactly as he’d just sworn, essentially making him a slave. The sex, again, also stops here, but she makes some extremely unsettling comments later on about how he was surprisingly good at sex and she might “train him.” Which.... where to begin other than yikes, and why, and, where in the hell was a guy who played with dead animals supposed to learn to eat a bitch out like that anyway??

This is where we also, tying the themes together, learn that one of the allies Trevor and Sypha have been teaming up with was a child killer the whole time. They only learn this after he dies helping them fight the evil that had come to his town (and after the most iconic line of the season; “What the fuck is toilet paper?”) which they accomplish, but not before failing to save anyone in the village, which was consumed in an evil ritual. They’re alone again, with a distraught Sypha realizing what Trevor had tried to forget by getting caught up in her optimism, that, say it with me now;

So there is your mostly unbiased spoilery context for the scenes in question. You can make up your own mind from there if that’s something you can handle, I’m gonna go on to add a few of my own thoughts which do not represent how I believe anyone else should interpret the show, this is purely my own train of thought here.

Sex consented to under false pretenses is still rape. I don’t know that I would personally classify these as “rape scenes,” but that’s just me. The reaction of the characters afterward makes me think Hector’s comes closer than Alucard’s, but the fact that both have appropriate reactions to being sexually betrayed makes me think that’s mostly what people are talking about when they say either one was raped. Hector later falls to his knees in a panic and hopelessness as he realizes “You made me a slave, my life is over,” and Alucard just lays there on the floor where he murdered his father as he weeps silently in contemplation of his own despair. That’s... some heavy shit, and I can, again, easily see where someone with a history of abuse or assault can be completely traumatized all over again watching this. As for the leeriness/attempting to be titilating/making rape “sexy” that a lot of adult fantasy/horror does... eh? I’m asexual, none of it’s sexy to me, and I was paying attention to the visual and audio cues the entire time that were making the audience aware with their ominous music, flashing between sex and battles against evil, and watching the instigators (Taka and Sumi, and Lenore the femme fatale vampire) as the camera focused on their scheming faces. The camera in Alucard’s scene especially just seemed to want to show us how sad and lonely he is, but that was pretty well established by that point and I know a sex scene devolving into a murder scene is jarring for people.

The themes of the season were manipulation, trust, and betrayal. Hector’s story reaches a pivotal turning point the moment the ring is slipped on him. Could it have been implemented differently than through the femme fatale seduction route? Absolutely, the show hadn’t really adopted sexual themes until this season and probably could have done so without it. She’d already lied to Hector an said that the rings were symbols she and her sisters wore to unite them, she could have been lying and welcomed him to join them and gotten him to swear loyalty to them in a ceremony after spending more time getting him to trust her. It was dumb and unnecessary and probably added in there just so maybe Alucard wasn’t the sole bearer of such an experience, or maybe because they shifted his plotline to fit in with the established themes, or maybe they could only sneak a bisexual threesome past the censors if they threw in more straight sex. What can I say? The cynicism of this show is relatable.

Alucard’s was less “Yikes” for me because he was never in a position where he didn’t have emotional or physical power over Taka and Sumi, he was a mentor to them who made no sexual advances whatsoever and seemed to only want to participate in their advances because it temporarily made him feel loved and worthy only to have the rug pulled out from under him and remind him that much more painfully of how alone he is, and how right his father may have been, and how wrong he was for killing him. Could this have been done without a sex scene? Yep, it always can. I know what the writers were trying to convey and I personally don’t have an issue with it and see its effectiveness, but I fully acknowledge another hour of spitballing in the writer’s room would have avoided that. I don’t necessarily think it’s a good or bad thing that they included this, it just... is, for me. I personally think if they’re going to confirm the sexual relationship between Trevor and Sypha, though, and then show us that Alucard is clearly missing them, there’s kinda one natural conclusion to make on how Alucard’s relationship with these two was going to go. I actually think it should have been better established and more time should have been spent on his relationship with them and depicted it as romantic/sexual from an earlier stage rather than just seemingly coming out of nowhere to people who hadn’t realized, “Oh, they’re his proxies,” earlier. I personally found it more tragic than traumatizing, but I don’t have a history of sexual abuse, so that is my own biased interpretation. If someone has that experience, I would not blame them in the least for finding this unpalatable.

Other arguments I’ve seen are, why is the only bi character shown to go through this kind of trauma? I mean, Alucard is our only confirmed bi character left for now, but Isaac is heavily implied to be queer, and again. Cynical universe. And he isn’t the only character period to go through it. They’re not singling him out because he’s bi, he’s just going through a character arc and is bi. I acknowledge again it could have been handled better but I don’t necessarily think this is biphobia so much as it is... unfortunate tone deafness. Tokenism is the problem, not Alucard’s bisexuality, so here’s hoping that we get another bi or queer character soon because as of right now, it’s just rife with unfortunate implications. I had this exact issue with Isaac’s backstory/characterization last season as our lone man of color with a major role and they immediately fixed his arc this season along with introducing several new characters of color and it was honestly the highlight of the season, so... the writers have proven to me that they can learn from their mistakes and spin my suspicion into HYPE, so I’m willing to give them through season 4 to see what they do with it.

I have also seen the argument for, why are the only Japanese characters tricky and sexually manipulative? Well, because they’re human and the show is extremely cynical in its depiction of humanity, we’ve just mostly seen that with white Europeans so far. As I mentioned before, tokenism is the problem. Is it annoying to see a sexually manipulative femme fatale vampire? Yes. Can I live with it and shrug it off a helluva lot easier when we get butch warrior vampire and tactical genius vampire talking back and forth about how they plan to conquer and drink an entire nation while espousing their affection for one another? Also yes!  While we do finally get a lot more characters of color this season who are fleshed out and beautifully complex and sympathetic, I think Taka and Sumi could have been better explored, since their mistrust of Alucard makes sense but their decision to have sex with him in order to get his guard down is... really not apparent other than through speculation with 0 textual evidence to support it. I don’t think they’re sexually manipulative because they’re Japanese, I think they’re sexually manipulative because the plot calls for it and they happen to be the only Asian characters we have for now and the writers made another pretty tone deaf decision. Behind the scenes, I do wonder if they were chosen from specifically Cho’s court just so the animators had an excuse to draw her some more/get that Japanese audience invested. Orientalism is a helluva thing here in the west though, and the sexualization of east Asians is especially fucked up and I’m not gonna say this did not have catastrophically tone deaf implications. I hope we get more Asian characters with a nuanced depiction, and even though they are the only Asian characters, they are not the only sexual abusers and they are far from the only sympathetically broken but dangerous characters we see.  

This is also, I’m fairly certain, a dual-studio production, and I do know Castlevania is a Japanese video game series based on European vampire stories, and in the endless love letter between Japanese and American media, some things gets botched in the exchange. That doesn’t excuse it, and that doesn’t mean it isn’t harmful, but I also don’t think it means “Cancelvania.” But I’m Mexican-American, and Not Asian-American, or more specifically Japanese-American, so, this is purely my perspective. 

I won’t defend the choices, I certainly won’t argue with people who draw a line in the sand and say “This is unacceptable, I won’t watch this,” that’s a valid perspective to have. To me, the writers through Isaac have proven they know when and how to correct course when they need to, so I’m cautiously optimistic that this was all build up for a dynamite season 4 if/when we get it. The show is cynical, I’m cynical, but I can recognize careful writing when I see it, and to me the highlights of this unrepentantly stupid fucking show that I kinda love are gonna be worth sticking through the stuff that makes me wrinkle my nose with concern because I want to see where it goes. A time may come when that stops being the case, but for me it hasn’t reached that point yet. I completely understand if it has for anyone else though.

[paladin-lynx]

Human SQUIPtober 2019, Day 10: Leaves

Human SQUIPtober 2019 Day 10: Leaves

Ships Involved: RiverWay (Two River SQUIP [River] x Broadway SQUIP [Ly])

Setting: AU where River and Ly somehow both became human after being SQUIPs for their respective Jeremys, and they now live together. They don’t quite understand how they can both exist, but it isn’t worth questioning it.

Trigger/Content Warnings: None

Author’s Notes: (I was almost on time with this one!) I’m back! Here’s a fluffier piece for this pair. Enjoy!

“Come on, Riv, you’re so slow! And you wonder why I call you an old man!”

River rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets despite the fact that just a few years ago, he would’ve chided Jeremy for doing the same thing. Ly had convinced him that they should take advantage of the weather and take a stroll through the park. It was the middle of autumn, right at that perfect midway point between hot and cold where you needed a jacket, but nothing overly bulky or uncomfortable. River was wearing a light coat and scarf – the latter was more for the look than the practicality, sue him – while Ly ran ahead of him in a sweatshirt and beanie.

River absolutely loathed how adorable he looked.

Sometimes he found it unbelievable that they were, in a way, the same person, just different versions. People often mocked the theory of multiple universes where an entity could be one thing in one universe and the complete opposite in another. To be honest, River himself, with his constant overthinking and overanalyzing, would probably still be one of those people if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of the embodiment of the 3.0 Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor Patch at his doorstep, claiming to have been in the head of a completely different Jeremy Heere in a completely different Middleborough High.

“You specifically said you wanted to take a stroll, love,” River called after his companion, still keeping his leisurely pace. It was, in fact, a nice day and he was going to take the time to appreciate the fall scenery. This was one of his favorite times of year. Part of him wondered if it was because he’d been activated during this season, so it was one of the first things he got to experience through Jeremy’s eyes. The world was a ridiculous place, but it did have its nice aspects.

Ly finally slowed down so that River could catch up, turning to him with that stupid cheeky grin of his. “I can’t help getting excited. There’s so much to see and do out here, Riv. Stop being so dull.”

River blinked. That was right. This was Ly’s first autumn as a human, so of course he was going to be bouncing all over the place, just like he did with everything else he was experiencing for the first time as a human. River was half-convinced that the first time Ly had hooked up with someone – because of course he had done that, with his ‘cool party boy’ attitude – he’d probably finished early solely from how overwhelming all of the sensations were. River almost wanted to know so he could mock him for it, but at the same time, no thank you.

Even with the epiphany about Ly’s behavior, River still huffed. “You won’t be able to appreciate it if you’re just running past all of it.”

Ly sighed, readjusting his beanie. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll take it easy a bit.”

River couldn’t help a little smile, continuing along the path they were walking. “Come on, then.”

Ly walked beside him and gazed all around them. There was indeed a lot to take in. The trees had lost a lot of their leaves but weren’t completely bare yet. Brown, orange, and golden debris blazed against the green grass, and there was a slight nip in the breeze that whisked past that had River shrinking down into his coat for a brief moment, nuzzling his nose into his scarf. But just as quickly, the late afternoon sun melted away the chill.

It wasn’t as if Ly had been the only one with this idea. They weren’t alone at the park. There were plenty of people out. Families exploring the trails, people walking their dogs or letting them run free and frolic about, couples huddling together under the trees, and a plethora of others. River was pretty sure he spotted a group of teenagers decked out in costumes and armor rushing past at one point, weaving through the trees as they chased each other. He would bet they were LARPers. Judging by their outfits, from the glimpses he’d caught, it was some sort of fantasy adventure, like in Dungeons & Dragons.

Michael had once tried to get Jeremy to join one of his online D&D campaigns. Jeremy had refused because it was bad enough interacting with people he did know; he would be a mess with people he didn’t know and in a game that most of them had probably been playing for years that he had no idea about. Plus, that game involved math, and Jeremy despised math in all forms.

River furrowed his eyebrows at the thought, hurriedly shaking it away. He was here now. Jeremy and Michael were off living their best lives. Maybe Jeremy had joined the game after all. He’d like it. Christine would, too, at least the role-playing aspect.

River was having a difficult time pulling himself out of his own head, as he often did, but as always he was snapped back to reality by Ly’s voice: “Oh! Hello!”

He blinked and saw Ly kneeling down as a pair of dogs, tongues lolling from their mouths, bounded over to him. One was larger with curly golden fur while the other, which struggled a bit to keep up, was shorter and tubbier with darker brown fur, although River spotted some lighter markings on its belly. River guessed that the bigger one was a golden retriever and poodle mix – a goldendoodle, if he remembered currently – based on the wavy fur and the body shape. The smaller one took him a moment longer, unsure at first if it was a Boston terrier or a French bulldog, although he realized after a moment that it was too wide to be a Boston terrier.

Ly laughed as the goldendoodle eagerly lapped at his face and the bulldog jumped up to try and do the same. River watched from a safe few feet away, letting Ly have his moment, although after a moment the bulldog seemed to give up and decided to pick a new target, waddling over to River’s feet and giving him what almost looked like an open-mouthed smile.

River couldn’t help it as he chuckled and crouched down, offering the bulldog a few pats on the head, watching as it tried to lick his wrist. “Hello there, friend,” he greeted softly.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” River looked up to see a young woman, no older than twenty-five, jogging over to them with a bewildered look on her face. “They don’t normally run off like that, I guess they just got a bit too excited…” She leaned down to clip a leash to the goldendoodle’s collar, but Ly waved her away, grinning widely.

“It’s alright. We’re always happy to make a few new friends.” He peeked over at River. “Right, River?”

River, not wanting to be improper in front of a stranger, sighed softly, ruffling the bulldog’s ears as he gave the woman a polite smile. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad they stopped to see us instead of just booking it away from you.”

The woman laughed softly, and despite Ly’s insistence, she did clip the leashes onto the two dogs’ collars, just in case. “I know they would never hurt anyone, but you never know who might get scared, or annoyed.”

“Can I ask what their names are?” Ly questioned. River would never cease to be amazed at how quickly Ly could go from being a complete child to civil and well-mannered.

The woman smiled, pointing to the goldendoodle. “She’s Spaghetti”—she then pointed to the bulldog—“and he’s Meatball.”

Ly turned to River again, stars shimmering in his eyes as he grinned like an idiot. River wanted to tease him, but he felt his own heart melt at the woman’s words. He smiled softly down at Meatball, petting him again. “What cute names.”

“Thank you. I hate to pull them away from you, but I really do have to go…”

Ly leaned over to plant a little kiss on the top of Spaghetti’s head before getting to his feet. “Thank you for your time.”

She smiled and gave a little tug on the leashes, and the dogs trotted back over to her. They seemed well-trained, River thought to himself. He wondered what had caused them to just run away like they had. Were River and Ly that interesting? Or perhaps the two dogs had that strange sixth sense animals seemed to have and knew that something was off about them?

“Thank you for keeping them entertained.” The woman gave another smile and waved as she turned to lead the dogs away. “Have a nice day!”

“You too!” River and Ly called at the same time, exchanging a glance. Ly smirked and the moment was over, and River – as usual – turned away with a roll of his eyes. Soon enough, they were continuing on.

“Maybe we should get a pet,” Ly hummed.

River gave him a pointed look. “It’s enough work just looking after you.”

Ly laughed. “Oh, so I’m your pet now, am I?”

River blinked a few times before his cheeks warmed and he hid behind his scarf, looking away. “Why must you bring everything back to sex like a miscreant?”

“Everything comes from sex, dear River. In fact—”

“Do. Not. Finish that statement,” River practically growled.

Ly seemed to consider it for a moment before simply smiling and clasping his hands behind his back, walking ahead and humming under his breath. River sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, before following.

They walked in rather comfortable silence for a little while. It seemed they were both finally taking the chance to actually take in the setting around them and just enjoy the splendor that the park had to offer. Maybe Spaghetti, Meatball, and that young woman’s friendly attitude had put them in a better temperament. Maybe they could actually have a peaceful rest of their day here.

“River, River, look!”

Or not.

River raised an eyebrow as Ly pointed to a bettered tended-to area of the park. The fallen leaves were in large, neat piles underneath their trees. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Ly huffed. “The leaves!”

“Yes, what about them?”

Ly groaned, rolling his eyes. River furrowed his eyebrows before he suddenly realized what Ly was planning. “Ly,” he warned.

Ly turned to him with a grin before sprinting away, toward the piles. River’s eyes widened as he chased after him. “Ly, someone probably spent all day raking th—!”

He winced, slowing to a stop as Ly dove straight into the pile, face-first. He was laughing as the leaves dipped under him, some flying up only to float back down on top of him. Of course, River had memories from Jeremy’s brain of the boy running around with Michael when they were littler – and maybe not so little, too – and jumping into the piles of freshly raked leaves, much to the chagrin of an exhausted Mr. Heere. Even so, even with the joy he knew the boys had felt from the silly antic, River sighed, grimacing slightly as he walked over closer to the pile. “Are you happy with yourself?”

“Very,” Ly sighed out, flipping to lay on his back in the leaf-pile, arms and legs splayed out as he closed his eyes. He looked about ready to go to sleep.

“Come on, Ly, do you have any idea what could be in those leaves? Dirt and bugs and debris and—”

River stopped when he saw Ly had opened an eye and was smirking at him. Once again, with how well they knew one another, River knew what he was planning. He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you goddamn dare.”

“Or what, Riv?” Ly purred, pushing himself up to sit.

River took a step back, but Ly was faster, grabbing onto River’s arms in a surprisingly strong grip and letting himself fall back into the pile. “Ly—!” River started, only to let out a horribly undignified shriek as he lost his balance and tumbled forward, falling into the leaves and also mostly on top of Ly.

With their combined weight, they only sank further into the pile and River found himself surrounded on all sides by leaves. It was warmer than he expected, and he could begin to understand how Ly had looked so comfortable before. However, he still pushed himself up so he was on his hands and knees over Ly instead of just collapsed on top of him. Ly had a grin on his face that could put the Cheshire cat to shame, and River once again found it hard to believe that this man had once formulated a half-decent plan to take over the human race. He scowled, praying that no one had seen – or heard – any of that. “Now are you happy with yourself?”

“Very,” Ly cackled out.

River sighed heavily, shaking his head, letting loose a few leaves that had gotten stuck there. “Unbelievable. Honestly, you’re supposed to be so much more advanced than me and yet here you are, acting like—”

Ly cut River off again, except this time, it was because he had leaned up to press his lips to River’s, kissing him gently. It did the trick and River shut up, eyes widening and cheeks flaming, and he couldn’t even move. He didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t pull away. He was just there, frozen like a machine that had short-circuited. Ly pulled away after only a few heartbeats, but it may as well have been hours in River’s mind. He simply stared, dumbfounded, at Ly under him, mouth slightly agape in shock.

Ly gave him a genuine smile, not one of his usual cocky smirks. “I just want you to have a bit of fun for once,” he murmured.

River blinked again, rather owlishly, before groaning and nuzzling into his scarf again as if to hide away. It seemed to have become more of a safety blanket than he’d intended. “I often question your idea of ‘fun,’” he muttered.

Ly chuckled, before abruptly falling quiet, eyes widening a bit. “Hold still,” he whispered, reaching up. River listened but his brow creased as Ly’s fingers brushed just slightly against his hair, and a moment later, Ly pulled his hand back. River’s breath caught as he saw the caterpillar, small and fuzzy, that was leisurely inching its way across Ly’s hand.

“How the hell did I not feel that there?” River breathed.

“Because my kiss was so great that you couldn’t focus on anything else?” Ly teased, chuckling.

River huffed. “Well, I was right about there being bugs.”

“Lighten up, River. We like making new friends, remember? Come on.”

Hesitantly, River moved to lay beside Ly in the pile, offering his hand when the caterpillar got to the edge of Ly’s. It didn’t even miss a beat as it crawled onto the new territory. River pulled his hand back to himself, smiling just a bit as he turned his hand this way and that, watching the caterpillar tirelessly climb about.

“Aw, he likes you,” Ly cooed, leaning his head against River’s shoulder.

River scoffed, but his eyes never left his new little companion. He was silent for a moment. “…Maybe I’ll reconsider about getting a pet.”

He tried to ignore the way his chest warmed as Ly laughed against him.

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Feeling’s Mutual

Summary:  When Bucky Barnes agreed to join The Avengers he didn’t know what to expect.  There was kindness and support, more than he could have hoped for, and understanding.  There was also misunderstanding.  Dr Veronica Edwards is a hurdle Bucky can’t seem to get past.  Why she doesn’t like him, he has no clue but it’s obvious to him that she really doesn’t.  When routine testing on the new prosthetic arm puts him in Dr Edwards med-suite he finds himself angry at the lengths his new team will go to in order to keep him on a leash.  After that, Bucky decides that maybe he doesn’t like her much either.

Word Count:  4284

Warnings:  Self-loathing and a smattering of PTSD with some mild language thrown in.

A/N:  This is part one of my Muscle memory series..POV Bucky Barnes, first person.  Set between CA:CW and A:IW, with some of the later story mixed in.  I do what I want, okaaayyyy.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.”

Dr Veronica Edwards’ smooth voice surprised me.  She was standing in for Dr Harvey while he was off sick with a stomach virus.  I wasn’t expecting to see any of the ladies here this morning, so I hadn’t bothered with anything more vigorous than a quick wash and a cursory brush of my teeth.  You know how you regret not doing something just when it’s too late?  Yeah, this was one of those.

Being dapper had been part of my persona, from back before Hydra, before trigger codes and before the war; a man should always make an effort when ladies are present.  I supposed that was all out the window now my reputation had changed and I wasn’t James Buchannan Barnes, ladies man, any more. I was Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier.

I winced as the shadow of a memory flickered in my minds eye like a film reel running too fast, showing snippets of the film in between its skips and jumps on the projector;  a murder here, a massacre there, they all flowed together in a tapestry that was as blurry as it was busy.  The reel skipped off completely and I refocused on her face.

Dr Edwards smiled warmly, moist-looking nude lips curling upward gently making the peachy complexion of her cheeks seem radiant and her green eyes sparkle with kindness.  I knew that was just her bed-side manner, so to speak, to be kind and considerate to all of the people she assisted, but honestly it made me feel a little uneasy.  In my extensive experience, niceness was either a weakness, a grave miscalculation or a form of manipulation, and I trusted none of it. But I was trying to change that with the help of Steve and the folks here at Avengers Central.

Striding further into the room, looking thoroughly classy in my black jersey sweatpants and crumpled white t-shirt, I squared my shoulders and tried to push the uneasy feeling aside. I regretted wearing the two-day-old clothes, but the Doc didn’t seem to care how scruffy I was.

Dr Edwards was always pleasant, courteous and respectful.  She was also confident and empowered, and it made me feel pretty vulnerable.  She knew who she was, and what she wanted.  That kind of strength was rare and it made me feel, uhhh, inadequate.

“Shirt off please.” She held eye contact for a moment longer than was comfortable.  “Take a seat when you’re ready.”  She gestured to the blue, leather-cushioned examination table to her right.

Hopping up, as instructed, I stripped my shirt off to reveal musculature that I was proud of (super-soldier serum aside - I’d worked hard to stay in shape), and the scarred juncture where my flesh ended and the arm began.  I bunched the shirt up at my side and shook out both arms, getting ready for the exam.

Dr Edwards, had conducted my monthly exam only three times in the past.  Each time she had neither been impressed nor distracted by my semi-naked glory.  Perhaps that’s part of the reason why she made me uneasy.  In the past, women had always thrown themselves at my feet, without my asking them, they’d been there flirting and giggling and vying for attention.

Not Veronica, she was in her own category, she didn’t even bite at the little flirtatious jibes I sometimes made towards the ladies on the team.  With the exception of Nat, Wanda, and Pepper, all of the female SHIELD agents and Stark Industries staff were either terrified of or swooned after me.  Well, me, Steve and Thor.  It was hard to compete with the two big blonde guys but Nat said I still had it.  Whatever it was.

Shame my sex drive wasn’t the same as it had been before, well, before hydra.

“How are you finding the latest modification?”  Dr Edwards said, holding her hand out casually asking for permission to examine the arm.

I lifted the tech arm, laying the wrist into her palm lightly.  I could feel so much more through the articulated metal casing than I could before, it almost felt like she was really touching my skin.  Her hands were cool, smooth and soft, and her fingers were delicate as she deftly turned the metal hand over in hers until our palms were touching.

“It’s fine.”  I said gruffly, the feel of her skin on the metal was distracting and oddly intimate.

“It’s taking you a while to get used to the enhanced tactile responses I take it?”

I’d worn a leather glove over the metal hand since Shuri had come up with this new upgrade.  It was like sensory overload, overwhelming me with intense feeling that my brain could hardly cope with.

I simply nodded, for want of a better response.  She was so intuitive.  I’d hardly spoken with her but it was like she could see right inside me and pick out the parts that she needed to know.  How could anyone defend against that?  Maybe she had a telepathic power.  Steve would know.  I decided I’d ask him later when we both hit the gym.

“It’s ok to be overwhelmed. I can turn the sensitivity down for you today if you’d prefer, or you can continue wearing the glove and just ease yourself in slowly?”

In truth, I didn’t really like to be tinkered with.  And I only went along with this monthly exam because Steve had made it mandatory in order to make everyone feel safer, and for my own good, apparently.  That’s what he’d said anyway.  I couldn’t argue with his reasoning really.  I had a past that was impossible to escape and a reputation for murder and brutality that went with it.

“I’ll just do it myself.” I’d succeeded on my own for so long, so I should be able to overcome a few issues with feeling things.

“No problem.” Veronica said, plugging a ribbon cable into the port just inside my metal armpit.  “Right then, show me your range of motion.  Start with fingers, then wrist, elbow, and shoulder.  I’m looking for improved flexibility in the rotator cuff from last time when we fixed the pinching at the shoulder.”

I wiggled all the parts she asked me to with no discomfort at all.  The tech felt the smoothest it had ever been, almost like it was a real arm but I would always see it as foreign, never think of it as mine.  It was something I wore, like shoes, necessary and functional.  I knew I’d feel off-balance without it, and fighting would be difficult.

With the arm Bucky Barnes was a fully functioning member of The Avengers.  Without it he was a pity case, or at least that’s how it felt.

“Step up to the testing machine, please Sergeant Barnes.”  She didn’t look up from her tablet, but she stepped confidently to the control panel with the ease of someone who had memorised the space and knew exactly what was where.

I had never seen that machine before.  It looked a little like a mini hydraulic crusher.  Eying it suspiciously, I slid off the exam bench and approached, shirt forgotten on the table.  The diagnostic cable was still plugged in under the arm and although I couldn’t feel the physical connection, I could feel the flow of power as data passed from the arm to the tablet in Dr Edwards’ hands.

“This is new.”  I licked my lips, slightly nervous.

New things made me uneasy. New things were variables, variables were risks, risks were dangerous.

“It’s a custom-made tensile strength machine, made just for you.”  She smiled brightly as if I should be flattered that they’d come up with a new way to scrutinize me.  “Only instead of testing the strength of the metal your arm is made from, it measures the crushing ability and the strength of your arm in a way we can compare easily with other things for example the tensile strength of structural steel is around five hundred mega pascals.  Human skin is around twenty mega pascals.  Vibranium, well, vibranium is significantly higher at fifty giga pascals but that doesn’t reflect the force you can apply with your arm, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t.  Not really, but I wasn’t about to ask her to elaborate. She was smarter than most of the techs working at Stark Industries, I’d heard the iron-skin-suit call her brilliant but until now I’d never seen her as anything more than a junior tech.

“You made it?”  I asked with a frown.

“Helped design it yes.” She held my gaze almost as if she sensed my disapproval.

Trust a woman to come up with new ways to test and torture me.  As if I hadn’t had enough of that my whole super-soldier life.

“What do I have to do?”

Veronica ran through the protocols and procedures, and I got the feeling she dumbed it down a little when she described it as ‘weight training for your enhanced limb’.

Slotting the arm into the device, I patiently waited for her to check and double-check the alignment and safety measures.  The commands of pull and squeeze seemed simple enough to follow.

“Are you ready to start the test, Sergeant Barnes?”

I nodded with another frown. She was going to start thinking I hated her, and probably start calling me ‘him’ instead of just my military title. It wasn’t lost on me that Veronica was one of very few people who never called me by my preferred name ‘Bucky’, she was always so formal.

“Ok, and pull for me.”

I compressed the arm in a bicep curl, feeling the machine’s tension counteracting my efforts.  It was like pulling an oar through water to begin with.

“And again.”  She commanded.  “Keep repeating until you meet maximum resistance.”

“How will I know when that is?”  I curled again, feeling the weight against the arm increase.

“You and the machine will reach an impasse.  You won’t be able to pull any more.”

I mumbled a nondescript acknowledgement and continue to work the arm.  At first it was easy, I curled quickly but after a few minutes I found it much tougher.  The machine ramped up the difficulty quickly after my initial efforts and then I was grunting, sweating, and straining against the mechanism.

“Good.  Good!”  She praised and I felt a little hotter in the face with either a blush or sweat, it was hard to tell right then.  “Keep going, you’re doing great.”

After a few more curls the machine locked up and I couldn’t move it any further.  I strained and yanked at it, grinding the mechanism until the arm was locked up too.  I glanced at Veronica, panting and flustered from my exertion.  She disengaged the machine and, with a hiss, the hydraulics powered down.  She took notes quickly before setting up the next task.

With the arm still fixed in the device, I couldn’t move anywhere.  It was like that time that Steve caught me in some factory machinery and forced me to remember who I was.  I was eternally grateful to him for never giving up on me but the feeling of helplessness wasn’t something I enjoyed a replay of.

Sweating, and with regret, I wished I could reach my shirt to blot my face.  I hadn’t realised the exam was going to be so physical, and goddamn if I hadn’t been clenching just about every muscle in my whole body whilst fighting against the damn thing.  Even my crack felt sweaty.

“Is there anything I can get you before we start the next stage?”  Her voice was soft with concern.  It was unnerving how well she read me.  “Do you need to rest?”

“I’m good.”  I said, pride making a fool of me.

“Ok, well let me dry you off a bit.  The port is still connected and should be dry when open.”

I blushed hard at that. She was telling me that I was too sweaty.  Gross. I frowned, embarrassed, and shied away from her touch when she brought a wad of paper towels to my brow.  It had been the very thing I had wanted but not from her.

Her hands were still quite cool but she felt colder against my heated skin.  Too close, she leant over me to smooth the moisture from my body. Swiping the tissues over my face, neck, shoulders and chest, Dr Edwards watched me curiously.  She had to know she was tormenting me.  How could she not notice my flared nostrils and ragged breathing? This kind of physical contact wasn’t something I felt comfortable with.

Tense and scowling, I held my breath, tolerating the contact as much as I could.  She continued with her ministrations until she was satisfied with the dryness of my skin.  It had been too personal in contrast to the formality of her pervious interactions with me. Never more than polite yet professional conversation, zero contact outside of the examination room or combat training, limited off-duty interaction.  It made me feel confused and uneasy.  There was something about her that put me on edge, made me listless.

“The second part of the test is to gage the pressure you can generate with your hand.”  She said, creating space between us that I welcomed. “I’ll do come calibrations after that if needed and we can have a chat about your needs.”

“My needs?”

My heart thudded once, twice, three times before I got it under control.  Why did I have to talk about myself with her?  Dr Harvey was unassuming and easy to ignore.  I didn’t mind talking to him because… Why?  Because I didn’t feel…  Feel what?  Because he wasn’t… Wasn’t what?  Because she made me feel…  Oh for Christ sakes, WHAT?

She made me feel threatened, made me feel nervous.  Veronica made me feel like she didn’t really like me all that much.  The coldness she gave me when she was friendly with everyone else, first names, laughing, joking, and the ease of casual contact.

“Come again?”  I sought clarification.

Oh, Buck, why did you have to make it sound like that.  Like what? Like that?

The way she eyed me then, I didn’t know if it was hatred or something more predatory.

“I don’t follow.”

“Some people prefer to have prostheses that do what they tell them.  Unless you have a penchant for crushing instead of caressing.”

I’m sure my mouth was flapping in the non-existent breeze.  Agape and floundering, I had nothing to say.  Stuck in the idea that flirting and bitterness were one and the same thing to her, or maybe it was too subtle a difference for me to separate the two, I blushed crimson.  Then it struck me that maybe she was goading me about my past.  It was no secret that The Winter Soldier had crushed more than a few windpipes in his time.

“Fine.”  I said, swallowing dryly.  “I’m ready to carry on.”

“Very well.”  And just like that, her stone-faced stoicism was back, with polite professionalism draped over the top.  “Please let your hand relax and fall open.  Good.”

A device with five finger shaped recesses arranged around a silvery ball lowered and rested in the palm the metal hand.  I could feel the metal on metal contact creating a strange thrumming vibration through the arm.  It felt like when I had handled Steve’s shield; a tell-tale sign that vibranium had been used to make this device.

“I’m going to ask you to hold an object, and I would like you to use your muscle memory to create the pressure with your prosthesis.  The machine will respond, mimic the item and measure the results.  It sounds harder than it is.  Ready?”

I nodded, just wanting to get this over and done with.  The sooner this was over, the sooner we could have our ‘chat’ about my needs, and the sooner I could hit the gym with Steve. The punching bag was definitely going to get ruined today.

“An apple.”

The device in the not-my hand seemed to have the same resistance against my grip as would a firm green apple.  I held it, turning it in the not-my fingers.

“Good.  See, you got it.”

Dr Edwards’s praise was both frustrating and pleasant.  I didn’t like the feeling of wanting to please her, but at the same time it was nice to hear her soften towards me, even slightly.

“An egg.”

The machine adjusted slightly and I could feel the fragility of it against the prosthetic fingers.

“A feather.”

I pinched my thumb and forefinger, holding the imaginary feather in between.

“The hand of a loved one.”

Well, shit, if that didn’t throw me for six.  The way the machine moved around my hand gave me chills.  It slid between my fingers, and almost felt real for a second before I managed to distinguish the materials from real skin.  I hardly touched skin with the prosthetic anymore, except my own.

“A mouse.”

The machine wriggled against my palm.  I held it loosely in the cage of my fingers, just firm enough that it couldn’t escape.

“Excellent.”

The test carried on like that for several more minutes before Dr Edwards removed the mimicking device and switched to something that looked like a hand dynamometer.

“Ok Sergeant, I’m going to ask you to squeeze as hard as you can.  This will create a maximum pressure output for me to work with.  What I’m going to do afterwards is set some values into the prosthesis’ programming that will allow you to quickly achieve an exact pressure to accomplish a task.”

“Like what?  Break a bone?”  I scoffed, and before I even looked at her face I knew that was exactly what she had meant.

“Not just that.  But also how not to break a bone.”  She had the sense to look a little abashed.

Dr Edwards had read my file, of course she had, they all had.  She knew when she agreed to run these tests that she were going to be programming instant kills into me or programming me to stop just short.  My money was on the latter.

“And you couldn’t just tell me that this was what it was all about?  Nerfing me so I don’t lash out and kill someone.”  Irritation seethed up my spine and settled as heat in my face. “I get it, I really do.  But I’m a person, not a tool.  Would it kill ya to include me in decisions about, well, me?”

“James…”

“Don’t.”  I shut her down.  “Get the test finished.  I’m done after that.”

When she said my name, my heart almost stopped.  Gone was her formal, guarded façade.  In its place was concern and a look of such sadness that I just didn’t know what to do with myself.  How do you deal with a switch like that?  And fuck me if I wasn’t simultaneously happy as a school boy on the first day of the summer holidays and irritated enough to rip that damn machine apart and storm out of the med wing.  Steve was gonna get a tongue lashing from me before the day was done.

Her face was pale and remorseful as she started the machine off on its cycle.  I squeezed that damn thing as if I was squeezing the life out of the sonofabitch who turned me into a killing machine, squeezed like I was crushing all of the hatred I felt for myself, squeezed like my life depended on it. Who knew, maybe one day it would.

Dr Edwards sent the data to my prosthesis and closed me up.  She was silent but continued to search my face for something, hope maybe, I dunno.  She wasn’t going to find anything.  I was about ready to shut down and stay the fuck away from everyone and everything until I got a chance to have things out with Steve.

I got up to leave, scooping my crumpled white tee off the exam table as I went.

“Good day, Sergeant.”

I closed my eyes as her coldness returned.  Stood in the doorway shirtless and feeling used, I paused, not looking back.

“Dr Edwards.”  I nodded curtly, showing my face in profile only, before striding off in search of something to beat on.  She didn’t need to receive my frustration, she wasn’t the only person, or even the main person, to oversee everything ‘Bucky’.  Rogers and Stark, each had equal hands in this.

 “We didn’t think about it that way, Buck, I’m sorry.”  Steve said.

He held the Everlast bag still for me as I slogged into it.

“That’s the thing about being a weapon most of your life.”  I said smacking the bag hard enough to make the stuffing start to crumble out of the seams.  “Everyone sees you as inhuman, even yourself.”

“That’s not how I see you, man.  You’re my best friend.  I want what’s best for you.”

“And what’s best for me, Steve?  Programming? A kill-switch?  Cyanide implant?  You’re acting just like HYDRA.”

“Whoa!  No-one said kill switch or cyanide.”

I pummelled the bag until the seam split completely and the broken filling plumed out onto the floor. Stepping back, I saw Steve was genuinely upset.

“Sorry punk.  I didn’t really mean that.”  I held my hand out.  “I’m just pissed off.”

He tagged me and smiled dryly.  All was forgiven.

“I’ll get them to lay off on the hardcore controls.  To be honest I didn’t even see that mandate in the requisition forms so I’ll look at that again.  Just please tell me you didn’t terrorise Vee.  She’s one of the best we have and she’s cool.”

“Dr Edwards?”

“Yeah Veronica.  You didn’t scare her, did you?”

“Nah, I was angry but not that angry.”  Had I scared her though?  “I doubt she’d take much notice of anything I said anyway, she doesn’t like me…”

“Whatever, dude.”  He said dismissively.

“…And she’s not the sort to rely on the opinions of others to fashion her idea of her own self-worth.”

“Wow.”  Steve half laughed, blinking his shock away.  “You know her well.”

“We hardly speak. She’s always so formal.  With you it’s Steve this and Steve that, or Cap, yeah she calls you Cap.  And you’re like ‘oh Vee you have to see this movie’ or ‘Vee can you come explain this report to me’.”  I nattered like a bitchy college girl slating her BFF.  “With me it’s Sergeant Barnes, or just Sergeant.”

Steve laughed.  “Are you jealous, Buck?  Have you found a woman who you can’t charm?”

“Haven’t tried.  You know when you can tell that someone hates your guts?  Besides, my charming days are over.”  I waggled the metal arm.

“Some people are gonna find that hot.”  A sultry voice interrupted.  “Can you make it vibrate?”

Natasha flashed a flirtatiously shocked ‘oooh sir!’ face which had me busting out laughing and Steve groaning.

“Don’t worry Barnes. You’ve still got it.”  She licked her finger and touched her chest, making a ‘tsssss’ sound before she mouthed the word ‘hot’ and sauntered away to the locker room.

“She really knows how to play on my insecurities.”  I said deadpan, making Steve crack up.

By the time we both stopped laughing, I actually felt better.  The kind of camaraderie we shared was one of the things that kept me going, through all of this.  Nat was one of my closest friends and even though she loved to mess with me she also knew when not to push.  That stunt she had pulled, maybe an hour earlier, might not have gone down so well. Her timing was impeccable, unlike mine.

After cleaning up and winding down I met Steve back in the kitchen where he was making a protein smoothie.

“Want one?”

I nodded, sitting at the counter.  I wasn’t gonna turn down a free smoothie.  Life was full of little gifts, like food you didn’t have to make yourself and, apparently, people who wouldn’t drop a damn topic.

“Seriously though, you need to get over this thing where you automatically assume people don’t like you, man.  Maybe try to open up a little.  Have a little fun.”

“Yeah, ok, Marilyn Hickey. Sure, a little bit of good old Christian fun sounds like just the ticket.”  I slapped my thigh and winked.

“Fuck off, Buck!”  He blitzed the smoothie maker, trying to drown out my retort, no doubt.

“Ooooh!  You kiss your mother with that mouth?”  I said, chuckling.  “I miss Nick, where is he when you need him, huh?”

“Stop deflecting.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about, buddy.”

“Not what, who.”  He slid the smoothie-filled glass over to me. “Talk to her.”

“Drop it, Steve.  I don’t care if she doesn’t like me.  I’m getting along just fine without an extra person up in my business.”

I downed the thick pinkish goop in the glass, it didn’t taste half bad but it wasn’t a steak.

“And to be honest, all this extra stuff with the arm and the testing just makes it easier for me not to like her right back.”

The noise of a door closing loudly made me jump.  Steve was out of his seat and rushing out of the kitchen only to return a few minutes later with a grim look on his face.

“You’re an asshat.” He said picking up his glass and walking away.

It didn’t take much to put two and two together and figure out that Dr Edwards had overheard me talking about her, but did it really make a difference?  So what if we both didn’t like each other.

It is what it is.