#it’s never good enough and i Know i’m a substandard human being but i’m just trying even though that doesn’t mean anything

[1roentgen]

.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Man those people on your ‘why are you straight edge’ poll are really showing their disdain for people who engage with any sort of drug… if I may add, I voted for having a medical restriction (my liver is failing thank youuuu immune system) AND I also take prescription opiate medication to help with pain. Every time I take my painkillers on days where I’m not working so that I can enjoy my hobbies I have complicated feelings about it because anti opiate rhetoric is just EVERYWHERE and it’s like… I just want to have a nice day. Getting over the ‘oh but it can be ADDICTIVE’ stigma is so important and it’s really not different just because I have a prescription. People who are so nasty about drug use for recreation are so stressful to me.

Ikr it's like people have such disdain for addicts, and drug users in general. I get upset about this because while I personally am a very casual user and I spend most of the time sober and am self assured so I can walk people being dicks about it off, but I know addicts and their lives are hard enough without all the stigma piled on top of it. I just wish everyone could be addiction neutral and pro harm reduction but they're so moralistic about it. I wasnt the politest I could have been about people not drinking and having sex because I was trying to keep it light and I know people take things like this really serious and it kinda backfired.

But like I totally know what you mean about the opioid thing. I really think that our society could benefit from being a little more addiction neutral, because yeah sometimes substance dependency does ruin your life, but I'm neurodivergent and I've met people where I think that doing life with drugs is better for them. Like you raise a great point about opioids. They're dangerous and addictive but if you're in pain because of a disability you need pain management. It's not really an option if you want to lead a normal life. There's a lot of heroin addicts who got that way because they needed pain management and their doctors refused them on the basis that they might become addicted, but taking a daily pill to improve your life, while it may be illegal depending on the substance, isn't bad. I bring up my own neurodivergence because I've heard of the same thing with ADHD and stimulants. Most people who have an ADHD diagnosis can get an Adderall prescription, but undiagnosed people and people falling through insurance cracks will sometimes turn to the street version. And it's like those people, both the ones with a script and the ones who are self medicating, should not be forced to live a substandard life because of someone else imagines there's some purity to a life without drugs. The goal should be to get those people the drugs they need in the safest way possible.

And I come down really easy, to the point where I forget to take prescription meds and don't experience any ill effects, but I have a friend who experiences a come down from their adhd meds thats not unlike the comedown ive seen from my other friend who's a meth user, and this friend with the ADHD meds can't function without them. But when the doctor and the pharmacist get them their meds on time they live a perfectly happy fulfilling life. That's what I mean when I say I'm addiction neutral. Most people who get addicted didn't just pick up heroin or whatever one day for shits and giggles. When I fuck around with "highly addictive" substances I make sure I'm in a good place and it's not a problem to drop them. People who develop problems are usually either they're escaping from something or self medicating. The goal for society can't be to never do drugs we've had drugs literally for longer than we've been humans.

I've heard second hand of a study which I haven't gone looking for, I might, because as you can tell this is a bit of a soap box for me, where they gave Heroin addicts a prescribed dose of heroin like you would pick up Percocet for chronic pain at a pharmacy, and because those addicts weren't shooting up mystery amounts and worrying where they were going to get their next hit from so they didn't start rattling and all the other things that make addicts lives hell, they were able to start doing things like holding down jobs. That study should have been a game changer. I want addicts to be able to live, and selfishly I want to be able to go to the drug store when I'm bored and say "one mdma high no fentanyl please" and leave with something to spice up the afternoon. That's like, not a moral failing on my part even though I'm not self medicating I'm just having fun.

The way the war on drugs has ruined drugs, which like, genuinely drugs are sort of magical when you think about it. Not just the fun ones either. Like when I was a baby I had a really bad bladder infection that absolutely would have killed me if I had had that same situation just like 100 years ago, but my mom was able to force a pill down my throat and it went away. Since then I've probably had at least a dozen little things like that that would have killed me dead if someone hadn't invented a chemical that could interact with my body and make it genuinely not a problem. and the fact that we have that for things like chronic pain and we're too afraid to use it because of stigma is so insane. Like god forbid people get high.

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 9: Scheming anew (Part 2)

Warnings: none

Author notes: I had so much fun writing the interaction between Ogawa and our one and only Kunikida...! They really are opposite and it felt good writing something lighter...! Hope you like it too!

As he was unconscious, I untied the ropes around my wrists and used them to tie him down, before rushing toward the room I rented without being seen by the policemen. I had escaped, but I was now a fugitive who had raised a hand against an inspector... It could have been better, but I would have been condemned to death for killing someone if things had kept going. Swiftly, I locked the door and pulled out the box of syringes to take one and inject the drug in my vein, hoping its effects would relieve me soon. Then, I removed a wooden plank from the floor and pulled out hidden magazines for my guns. I had hidden them, judging unnecessary to use them, but they could be useful at this very moment. I would not hesitate to shoot to preserve this freedom I had acquired after running from the Port Mafia.

Soon enough, the door to my room trembled and the voice of this annoying man echoed through the wood. He was asking me to surrender, so we could perhaps negotiate my judgement for the trial, but I did not need such a thing. I was innocent, and I would prove it. Gathering my strength, I climbed through the window and reached the neighbouring one. The policemen had taken their break and the room was empty, with only the woman's body left alone in its original position. I examined it immediately, surprised they had not taken it out for an autopsy, but then again, policemen were incompetent. I looked around the room, hoping to find something — anything — which could help me solve this murder case. Through the thin walls between the two rooms, I heard that they successfully entered my place and were more likely looking for me or proof of my guilt. Except the box of syringes which could be mistaken as drugs, I had nothing to hide. They would tire themselves trying to find hints which did not exist. I frowned and took a minute to think. No trace of aggression... The weapon could be either an ability or poison. If an ability user powerful enough could kill someone without raving a single trace, then the government would certainly be after him and there was no way he could be involved with this rather insignificant case. Which left the poisoning option. Except by doing an autopsy, I could not determine which substance had killed this woman nor how it had been administered. Nevertheless, I did recall that the struggling had stopped at once, as if she had been knocked out suddenly. I had not heard any grunts or whimpers from someone being forcefully shoved something into their mouth would emit, meaning the poison had been given externally. I chuckled, running a hand through my messily tied hair. A syringe was the most plausible option, and I was quite knowledgeable about them. The victim was wearing a sleeveless top; she could have been attacked around her arms. Carefully, I kneeled next to her and examined her skin. There it was, the small wound caused by the needle carelessly planted into her skin. The blood had stopped circulating so the haemorrhage was now barely visible, but it was there. With some luck, she would have struggled so much that the murderers could have lost the syringe... I closed the curtains and turned off the light, before pulling out my phone and tapping on the torch application. If the needle was still in the room, the faint light would make it shine. It did. I picked the clue up with a handkerchief not to dirty it with my fingerprints, between two planks of wood, and decided to leave the room. I had everything I needed.

"Anything interesting in there?" I casually leaned onto the door frame of my own room, staring as the blonde man was looking everywhere.

"Y-You...! How...?" His eyes widened and he stomped toward me.

I dodged him as he tried to catch my wrist and placed the handkerchief with the needle in his palm.

"While you were pointlessly trying to accuse me, I was looking for useful clues on the crime scene. The victim was poisoned. The weapon is a syringe." I stated "Do you believe I'm innocent, now?"

"I did find a box full of syringes under your bed. Doesn't that prove you're the culprit?" He narrowed his eyes "Not to mention you got me good there... It'll ache for a week at least..."

I scoffed as he rubbed his neck painfully.

"Consider yourself lucky I did not use a gun." I shrugged it off "Your colleges did not even check if I was carrying firearms. Anyway, I —"

"Do you?"

"Eh?"

"Do you carry any firearm?" He groaned.

"I do." I looked blankly at him "May I keep proving I am not the murderer?"

"... Go on..." He gave up "We're at a loss for clues anyway. If only Ranpo-san was there..."

"Well..." I cleared my throat "What you found in my room is morphine. I am sick and I may or may not use medication excessively... Whatever, the point is, an overdose of morphine would cause respiratory depression, which the victim did not suffer from. I was a witness. She was struggling, then suddenly fell to the floor. Morphine would not do that. I believe there was something else in the needle you're holding, but I'll leave that to the lab. There could be countless possibilities of poisons..."

"You sound well-versed in such shady business..." He became suspicious again.

"I do not belong to your world, after all..." I smirked "I have to admit the method to kill the woman is intelligent and soundless. If it were me, I would have most certainly shot her between her eyes... Ah, but I would have taken my gun silencer, of course. To sum it up, I'm not the one you're looking for, glassy."

"... Glassy...?" He raised an eyebrow "Why, I admit your explanations are logical but... Are you sure you aren't giving me a reason to arrest you? You do carry firearms and you sound like a hitman..."

"A hitman...? That's too glorious a name for me." I chucked "I am a forgotten human of the underworld, you should not meddle too much with me. As long as you don't arrest me, I will let you off. And, you owe me one for helping you with the case, anyway."

"Let's say I owe you one. Would you trust my words if I said I would not arrest you?"

"Obviously not." I grinned "That is, if I could not accurately read your mind. I'm a monster, an ability user who can hear your thoughts as though you were speaking at loud. Will you arrest me?"

"The law says I must. Thus..." He showed me a pair of handcuffs "Surrender, please."

"You're a man of words. You do as you think." I told him "It's rare to see people as honest as you nowadays... However, this honesty of yours will be your very end..."

"I want to do my job with peace of mind." He defended "I arrest you, not because I have something against you but because you did illegal things. Do not think I am being ungrateful."

"Oh, I don't think so." I shook my head "What you do is right. But I haven't grown in righteousness."

As these words escaped my throat, I swiftly ran past him into my room and reached out for the balcony.

"I will not let you arrest me. Now..." I pulled out a gun and aimed at him "Hands up and face toward the wall."

The man reluctantly complied, but I was in a superior position and, unless reinforcements were to come, I was sure to win.

"Farewell, glassy~" I hummed, escaping through the balcony.

I stayed a moment, holding onto the edge, until I heard his footsteps hurrying out of the room. When I was sure he had exited it, I climbed back inside and simply walked toward the staircases, heading toward the roof where he would not find me. This man was too idealistic. He was too honest, too. To easily be fooled by my little trick... I had never hoped he would fall for it, but well... At least, he had stayed true to himself and had respected the law as his ideals ordered him. I leaned onto the fence, looking at the alley beneath me. The man was running around, trying to look at me, but it was to no use since I was just above his head.

"Well, he'll just give up sooner or later." I shrugged it off, putting my gun back into the holster "And I'll be able to rest in peace..."

I smiled at my pun and sat down on the roof, pulling a box of pain relievers out of my pocket. I would simply wait for the police to leave before regaining my room and the dirty bed, where I would lay and go back to my routine of drugs until I could finally die.

"There is no way you can rest in peace in such a substandard room." One noted, sitting next to me "Why do you always choose such shabby places?"

"Um..." I did not realise someone was talking to me "Money issues? If I'm going to die, I won't spend much on my living expenses, anyway. So —"

I stopped myself and stared at the one next to me. It had felt so natural… I had not noticed.

"What are you doing here, Dazai...?" I almost breathed out, strength leaving my limbs suddenly.

"I escaped from Kunikida-kun to slack off freely~" He explained "You tricked him well. Did not expect you to hit him with a chair either~"

"I care about this illusion of freedom too much to go to jail." I answered "What I meant was, what is the reason for your presence here?"

"Well..." He pulled out a cigarette "Do you mind?"

I shook my head. He lit it up and brought it to his mouth. The way he smoked differed from Chūya's, in that his fingers were more slender and his movements more graceful. I had only seen him a couple of times with a cigarette, when, sometimes, the burdens of his heart had been too much to bear. He exhaled, and the little smoke cloud faded in the cool air of the ending afternoon.

"I came for the murder, with my colleague, Kunikida-kun." He explained.

"Are you with the police, now?" I raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"No no...!" He laughed "No way...! Too many rules for me..."

"But you do work for the government now..." I sighed "Did you know I was there, in that one hostel of Yokohama where a young woman died?"

"I did not." My former superior confessed "I had no idea you would be there... Or I would have come earlier."

"Is that so..." I felt moved by his words "I'm glad..."

"Ogawa... I need you to tell me something..." He asked me.

"What is it...? Is it related to the murder or anything...?"

"Not at all. I heard you found out. No, I need you to tell me... How is the sunset, this evening?"

I looked at the sun falling behind the skyscrapers of Yokohama. I frowned.

"Are you trying to hold onto life?"

"That's not what you think —"

"I don't think it's a bad thing." I cut him "But I... Am no longer able to describe the beauty of the sunset I once could see from the Mafia headquarters... All I see from there is a ball of white light disappearing in a greyish sky. And such a sight isn't beautiful, is it? It isn't what you want me to show you..."

"It is, indeed, not what I wanted you to tell me..." Dazai looked away "I did not think you would come to lose your colours..."

"You had predicted it." I reminded him.

"I did not want it to happen." He said, more curtly "I did not want you, out of everyone, not to be able to see the colours you liked anymore..."

"Without you by my side, they became completely useless... I had no one to paint the sky for anymore..."

"Why don't you just allow me to take you with me again...? You are stubborn Ogawa, but I don't want this stubbornness to kill you." He told me.

"I choose to die." I retorted "Just like you endlessly try to commit suicide, I let myself die."

"I don't want you to die."

"... You're pretty selfish."

"I'll take responsibility for it."

"The thing is..." I sighed "I do not want to live in fear to lose you again if I choose to come back to your side."

"That's logical that you want to avoid suffering... It's a human reaction." He commented.

"Isn't it...? But those are matters I have long discarded now..."

"What keeps you from coming with me, then?" He insisted.

"I..." I lowered my head "I can't say..."

I could not admit I felt too shameful as a person to ever be able to stand by his side again. I had left the Port Mafia to be with him, yet I was too weak. Even if he granted me sleep, even if he said he cared about me, I was aware it was not meant to last forever. If Dazai was determined to strive and hold onto life, there would come a day when he would meet someone who would support him and whom he would open his heart to. When this day would come, he would not want to give me sleep every night anymore, and I would end up discarded another time, and I would die. I would rather leave the world at this very moment than hoping again that I could live a few more years with him. I would have less regrets...

"Ah, so..." He murmured, throwing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his heel "I still wish you would be with me, though... I... Feel so empty... Without you around... I feel so lonely as well... Odasaku is gone, so is Ango... You were the only one remaining, yet I was not able to keep you with me... I am aware everything is my fault, yet I still hope I could have you back, somehow..."

"And I am aware that I made a promise..." I glanced at him "But you were the one who broke it... How would you expect me to be with you if you did not allow me near you...? I could not understand, and so, I stopped waiting..."

"I know..." His fingers barely brushed against mine "I am a stupid coward... That, you surely know..."

"You cannot always hide behind cowardice... You must face the consequences of your actions if you made the wrong decision... Dazai, I have to admit that, right now, I don't really want to die..." I confessed "Rather, I want to open my eyes again onto a colourful world, and you are the only one who can return those colours to me... Just tonight... Will you cancel my ability...?"

"You need not ask, Ogawa... I will definitely cancel your ability, tonight, tomorrow and the following day too, if you demand so. I won't let you die..." He assured me.

"I know you won't..." I smiled "You won't, as long as I am there. If I were to leave this cheap hostel, would you try to find me...? That, I cannot be sure... You have not made a single move toward me since last time, what am I supposed to think?"

"I thought you would make the move... I didn't know you would leave the Port Mafia..."

"Are you sure...? You did not know...?" I raised an eyebrow.

"... Perhaps I did suppose you would..."

"That's my point." I shrugged, standing up "But, to be honest, I really, really wish I could come back to your side... But I..."

I stopped, and shook my head.

"Let's go back inside... We may talk again tomorrow, if you do come back..." I told him.

"Tomorrow." He walked toward the door "We'll come back. The murder case isn't over yet."

"The culprits have yet to be caught, after all." I agreed "But I do hope you'll find them soon."

"Heh~ Do you desperately want me to leave you alone~?"

"Not at all... But I was tied up because of them, they must pay for involving me." I stated simply.

"I suppose I owe you this, at least." He chucked "I like seeing this side of you better."

"To be fairly honest, I'm glad to talk to you again." I looked at him with a smile "And in all objectivity, you already know I will choose to come back after a moment. Why are you even worried?"

"Because I genuinely want you to come back... And I am also sincerely afraid that you die before reaching my side again. I fear that I will lose you forever, too..."

I admired him for being able to admit his feelings to me. In a way, it meant he cared about me enough to show his true face, he who had always hidden behind a mask of joviality. I hoped he would drop his mask more often around me, and tell me about his issues, but I was aware I could not ask so much so soon. With time, perhaps... Perhaps we would come to become real friends.

[kayr0ss]

Appointments Chapter 4: Toby’s Fate

[LWA, Diakko, Small Town AU, Fluff and Slow Romance, Pining™ lol]

Chapter 1 & Table of Contents AO3 Link

“I refuse!” Akko shook her head vigorously, biting her lip to keep herself from hissing in pain.

“You are literally bleeding!” Lotte flailed her arms in exasperation, unsure what to do with her friend and growing queasy at the sight of blood at the same time.

It happened. Lotte had warned her, and it finally happened.

Toby’s great betrayal.

Biting the hand that feeds him.

“Don’t force her if she doesn’t want to go.” Sucy casually sipped her stark-and-very-very-dark cup of coffee. They were holed up in Jasminka’s café, tucked in the corner booth that their trio called ‘home base’ on Friday afternoons. “I’ve always wanted to test a serum out on a rabies patient.”

Lotte fiercely held a finger up to her face. “Just—no.”

The little girl called Constanze (who was apparently their age—surprise!) had trotted quietly over with a glass full of ice to numb the pain and some clean napkins.

“Thank you,” Lotte supplied, still fussing over Akko’s wound.

The small girl gave them a thumbs up and then stood at the edge of the scene to quietly observe.

It was only a short moment before Jasminka arrived, phone in hand with a concerned expression. “How are you feeling? I’ve given Ms. Parker a call; they’ll be expecting you at the clinic.”

“No!” Akko whined. “No way!”

If she weren’t so worried, Lotte’s eyes could have rolled backwards into her skull. “If there was a time to swallow your pride, it would be now. I thought you and Dr. Cavendish agreed you were friends?”

“Not when it comes to Toby!”

Akko wasn’t about to go running to her friend-yet-rival’s den. No, she hasn’t forgotten what happened the week prior within the walls of this very café: the battle for Toby’s fate. Only minutes after agreeing to Akko’s declaration of friendship, the stern Dr. Cavendish called Toby a ‘danger to those around him’, most especially since he was a wild, stray cat. Akko found herself swallowing down a tirade of disapproval. It wasn’t a very convincing explanation, at least by her standards. She had no idea what anaphylaxis or atopic dermatitis meant—much less how much antihistamines cost! And so Akko had fired back, unrelenting in her mission to convince the good people of Blytonbury that this furry feline friend of hers deserved a place in the square just as much as everyone else. Amanda even backed her up, “for the heck of it—and because I think you’ve got a stick up your ass, Cavendish!”

But the doctor was resolute. She even had the gall to look good while running her mouth!

“You said that out loud,” Lotte sighed.

“Huh?” the brunette blinked.

“The gall to look good?” Sucy actually laughed.

“My point is—” Akko practically yelled, “—this is going to be so bad for all the hard work I’ve been doing to make sure Toby isn’t taken away.”

“Animal shelters were made to care for strays,” Lotte tried to placate her. “And you’ve seen it yourself, Toby actually bit you!”

“And Constanze will shoot you,” Jasminka interjected with a with an eerie smile, “if you do not make your way towards the clinic right now.”

Lotte’s eyes grew the size of saucers. “Is that a gun? Are you—do you have a license for that?!”

--

“I’m beginning to suspect that I’ll be seeing you far more often that I’d like, given all the trouble you find yourself in.”

It was probably the fifteenth time that patient Atsuko-Kagari-with-red-eyes-and-Blood-type-O+ huffed and groaned while Diana tended to her. Thankfully, the brunette had come to her immediately after the incident as immediate post-exposure prophylaxis for rabies could be a matter of life-or-death. At the side of her hand was a puncture wound, with the pinky knuckle distal to it by a few centimeters. It seems the infamous stray cat had sunk its teeth deep enough to cause a significant amount of bleeding—it didn’t help that the human hand is known to house an impressively dense network of blood vessels.

So, more bleeding.

“Cat bites actually cause more serious infections than dog bites do,” Diana quipped.

“Huh.” Atsuko winced when Diana swabbed the open wound with alcohol.

“They can likewise give you Pasteurellosis, and ‘kennel cough’—which can turn into a serious case of pneumonia. Can you press down on the area with this cotton ball?”

Her patient begrudgingly obliged, pressing the damp ball of cotton against the wound. Diana turned in her swiveling chair, discarding her soiled pair of gloves into the bin and opening a small, half-sized refrigerator. She took out an ice pack and began to wrap it in a thin towel. She placed the ice pack on the trolley beside her patient which held all her tools, and gestured for the brunette to hold out her hand before slipping on a fresh pair of surgical gloves. “You can take the pressure off now, and I’ll dress the wound.”

“I actually thought I might get scratched, but not bitten.” Atsuko admitted, looking a little sheepish.

“Most people associate cat-related injuries to abrasions by way of claw scratches, but a surprising amount—five to fifteen percent, depending on the country—of bite wounds come from cats.” Diana handed her the ice pack once the dressing was through. “Which hand do you write with?”

Atsuko blinked. “Ano—my right hand?”

“Alright,” Diana handed her the towel-wrapped ice pack. “I need you to roll up your left sleeve to expose the shoulder and ice the area.”

“What for?”

“To numb the pain.”

“Pain?!”

“I’ll need to give you shots. The two most threatening infections you could acquire from this bite are tetanus toxoid and rabies. Your medical history showed you’ve had your vaccinations, but a booster shot is usual for adults who’ve been exposed or bitten, and once every ten years.” Diana elegantly gestured towards two, small bottles which she’d taken out from the fridge alongside the ice pack. They had a small dose of clear liquid and were placed beside two unopened—menacing—syringes.

“Mou!” Atusko wailed. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you!”

Diana blinked. “Pardon?”

The brunette’s lip was sticking out in an accusatory pout. “Fine! You were right—I totally got bitten and it proves your point about Toby, and now you’re totally prepared as if you saw it coming a hundred miles away.”

She was taken aback, blinking at her patient and unsure how to proceed. “I…” she dropped her gaze towards the tray of surgical equipment, “I thought that your insistence on pestering the cat might have ended up in a bite anyway, and didn’t want to take the risk of being unprepared in case you’d need it.”

“Ack,” Atsuko looked like she wanted to facepalm, and then gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry—you’re right. That was a bit bratty of me.”

“Apology accepted.”

“So…” the brunette deliberate drawled out. “How long is this ice pack thingy gonna take before it does its magic? Because my arm is getting cold!”

“Around ten minutes,” Diana succinctly replied. “Rabies VIS is introduced intradermally.”

Her patient simply stared expectantly.

“Into the skin rather than the muscle, which is unfortunately much more painful.”

Atsuko sighed, resigned to her fate. “Well, thanks… I guess.”

“Hmm?”

“For, you know.” She huffed, putting on an expression that said ‘this is so difficult to admit!’. “Being prepared so I don’t get rabies.”

Diana blinked, and then actually found herself chuckling. “I’d be a painfully substandard doctor to do otherwise.”

“Which reminds me, you’re a… what kind of doctor are you again?”

She realized she didn’t actually know how to respond to Atsuko, seeing as this seemed to be their first ‘civil’ conversation. “I’m currently a general practitioner.”

“Yeah?”

Diana simply nodded to say, ‘that’s it.’

At the very young age of twenty-five, she’s only had her license and practice for a little over a year. The whole point of moving to Blytonbury was aligned with her objective of securing a residency in cardiology at the LNU’s SBM Medical Center—but that was still subject to change, and general practice gave her enough all-around experience to get a feel for where she might want to go.

“Well,” it seems the brunette decided to take reins of the conversation, “I’m studying at LNU—as you already know, and for the record I haven’t been late since!”

Cue Diana’s eyeroll.

“I finished music school, but I’m taking a post-graduate degree in Humanities so I can qualify as a university-level professor someday.”

“Oh.” Diana perked up, completely blindsided by this new piece of information. A professor?

“Apparently you can’t just teach music class cause you’re good at it, you need a higher degree.” Atsuko sighed dramatically. “Humanities units, and like—even units in science and math and later on I’ll need to take some education classes. But guess what—” her entire body language changed from disdain to excitement, “—I actually picked going here cause they have one of the best lecturers for ‘Enhanced Practice in Music Teaching and Learning’, but that’s still a few semester down the line for me—"

“That’s really specific.” And completely foreign to her. She’d had piano lessons at most, but life after high-school was simply consumed by the never-ending demands of medical education.

“—so for now I’m just taking two subjects and maybe join the running club.”

The running club?

A little idea had bloomed merrily (deviously?) in Diana’s head. “You’re familiar with Dr. Meridies, aren’t you?”

Atusko nearly shuddered, “my crazy-ass Physics professor?”

Diana checked her watch, noting it had been ten minutes. “Yes.” She motioned for her patient to settle the ice pack down. “What are the chances of you being able to convince her of occasionally joining the running club’s engagements?”

The brunette looked at her like she grew two heads. “Like—zero!”

She didn’t mean to do it on purpose—she really didn’t—it just so happened that this conversation coincided with the needles part of this appointment.  

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars, but I believe that some form of exercise will be great for her health.”

She opened a sterile pack and fit the needle to the syringe. She then flooded it with the first vaccine’s fluid.

The brunette was still shaking her head, arms crossed. “I think I’ve even seen her trip going up stairs! I don’t know about running club.”

Diana held the syringe up against the light, giving it a small push to make sure the liquid was flowing.

Atsuko was watching apprehensively.

Diana flicked away any air bubbles and gave her patient a look. “I’m sure you can find a method to persuade her.”

--

“So what did you tell her?” Lotte peeked from behind another one of her literature tomes.

“Hell no!” Akko scoffed. “I’m sure Sucy and I have told you enough about Dr. Meri-death to know she’d never come near the running club, much less from my suggestion!”

The pair of them were sitting on a wooden park bench, shielded from the morning sun by a sprawling canopy of branches and leaves. They were facing the practice field where Amanda was wrapping up the Tuesday morning football club, to be followed by lunch which Lotte had volunteered to prepare.

Without Sucy’s help, she reassured.

They were having a small celebratory picnic today—Akko had finally landed herself a job! Finally!

“Looks like Amanda’s through,” Lotte squinted into the distance. “Let’s find a good table so it’ll be all set up when she joins us.”

The nearest picnic table was conveniently unoccupied, and Akko busied herself with the setting the tablecloth and cutlery upon Lotte’s insistence to ‘handle anything that could spill or break herself.’ They had sandwiches and a platter of roast beef (“Yay meat!”) with mashed potatoes on the side. A cold jug of orange juice had left a ring of dew on the table dressing almost immediately, and—what was taking Amanda so long? Akko was absolutely famished.

“Oh man, now that is a sight to behold right after training!” As if on cue, Amanda walked over, face still damp from freshening up with a towel draped around her shoulders. “Juice!”

“Leave some for us!” Lotte nagged, watching in horror as the other woman a downed a full glass in two seconds.

“So,” Amanda grinned, landing a heavy slap on Akko’s back while she wiped her mouth with the back of the her other hand. “You’re finally my colleague, Kagari! The lady subbing for music class all but knelt in gratitude when I gave her the news.”

“Makes me wonder what I’m getting into,” the brunette laughed to hide how painful that slap actually was.

Coaching aside, Amanda was a physical education instructor at the local Arcturus School. It was a relatively well-off institution, and unsurprisingly a subsidiary of LNU (who had some stake in its management). Akko being a student of the University made her a preferred candidate, and alongside Amanda’s recommendation getting the job felt like an easy win. Apparently, the former music instructor was swept off her feet in a whirlwind romance, dropping in snap to get married in Spain—or at least, faculty room rumors said so.

“So what’s your schedule?” Lotte inquired while she served them a hefty pile of potato.

“Thanks,” Akko smiled, “Mondays, right Amanda? And Fridays. Both morning classes.”

“You’ll still push through with running club?”

“Professor Ursula seems hella cool, so why not!”

Why the hell not indeed? Life finally felt like it was falling into place and Akko was determined to seize the day. Although school was beginning to become burdensome (the devil invented physics research papers), the recent acquisition of a job took away a big portion of Akko’s worries. The fact that it was something she genuinely enjoyed doing was a bonus that tasted as sweet as ‘dango.’

Damn, she grumbled to herself. Now she was craving for dango.

However—there was but one teeny-weeny furry problem left: Toby’s fate was still up in the air.

“I’m so bummed out that I can’t keep pets any place!” the brunette groaned.

“Even after everything he put your through last week?” Lotte asked, perplexed.

“To be fair,” Akko rubbed at the back of her neck, “he bit me cause I stepped on his tail by accident. But he’s usually really sweet!”

Lotte looked sympathetic. “He’s going to get picked up anyway once the authorities notice him loitering more often.”

She knew that, if she was being honest with herself; she only hoped it would be later than sooner. Akko thought the affection she developed for the cat would be a fleeting affair but oh did she completely fall for him the first time he rubbed against her legs and went ‘mew!’ So typical of her. Kami-sama.

“Might end up with someone within the neighborhood,” Amanda mumbled through a mouthful of beef. “And for the record,” she started laughing, “Constanze’s gun is a toy—Jas told me about last Friday. She’s really good at building replicas!”

Lotta was about complain when Amanda sat up in attention, her spoon pausing mid-air while she squinted towards something—or someone?—in the distance. “Is that Mr. Langdon? Is he actually going out for a jog?”

Akko craned hair neck. The name sounded familiar somehow, and soon she made eye-contact with a grumpy-looking man she remembered meeting at the pharmacy a few weeks ago. “Oh!” She beamed, giving him a lively wave a blinding smile. To everyone’s surprise, he actually smiled back.

That was when she noticed… it.

The smile fell from her face completely. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Lotte followed her line of sight. “I don’t see anything.”

Dread filled Akko’s stomach, which dropped like lead. An off-white van which resembled an ambulance cruised at a leisurely pace along the Central intersection. It was headed towards the old oak tree and it looked like a rescuer was keeping an eye out for strays.

‘Appleton County Animal Shelter’ was painted on its side, and before she knew it Akko had bolted up from her seat in the bench.

“Akko!” Lotte squealed.

“I’ll be back real quick!” Akko was already off to a soft jog, heading towards the edge of the park following the vehicle’s slow place into the main streets.

“Unbelievable,” Lotte blinked.

Amanda looked at the bespectacled woman, at Akko’s plate with interest, then back at her again.

“Think she’ll still eat that?”

--

“By the oak tree, yes.” Diana spoke into her phone in a clipped, professional voice. “I think I see you.”

As promised, Appleton County Animal Shelter’s van was coming into her street from the Central intersection. Despite how determined she was to have the shelter pick up the feline source of her headaches, she didn’t particularly enjoy having to send him away. But this was a must—a cat couldn’t be loitering outside the medical clinic.

“Well, off you go I suppose.”

The cat—oh, blast it, he’s going to leave anyway—Toby, so he was named, had followed her from the clinic to her apartment, where she was supposed to enjoy an extended lunch. She tried to shoo him away, going as far as talking to the little fellow (“Please stop following me. I have nothing to offer you.”).

He just looked so… polite.

But Toby stuck around regardless, and she figured now was as good a time as any to call the shelter. Still, there was some hesitation if she were to be honest, and she wasn’t sure why. When the van finally pulled over in front of her apartment, she wondered how that woman would take the turn of events.

“STOP!”

A shrill voice pierced through the rumble of the van’s engine, and in a sharp motion Diana turned towards its source.

Speak of the devil, she blinked. The rescuers likewise had to shake themselves from their stupor, surprised to see a small, brown-haired woman stomp towards them with murderous conviction.

And a pout.

Which, by all accounts, was rather disarming.

“Atsuko,” Diana greeted in a careful voice.

“How could you!” the brunette wailed. “It’s a good thing I saw the van from the park and followed it—no surprise to find it here!”

“From the park?” That was ridiculous! “You followed it?”

“Yes, and just in time.” Atsuko turned the ‘disarming’ pout towards the rescuers. “You’re not going to take him, are you?”

The men looked between Atsuko and herself, and Diana raised an eyebrow as if to assert authority.

“I’m sorry miss,” the man finally spoke, “but we can’t leave him in the street.”

“Can’t I keep him?” her lower lip was trembling now.

“Does your building have a permit for pets?”

Then Atsuko’s eyes began to glisten, and Diana already knew the answer because if the other woman did they wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

“I’m really sorry,” to his credit, the rescuer looked sincere. “But we can take care of him better than if he stayed in the streets.”

Diana pensively watched the brunette’s shoulders droop. Atsuko blinked back tears, coming down to a squat and opening her hand towards Toby. She felt the need to call out and remind her to be careful, but then was surprised to see Toby nuzzle adoringly against her palm, looking content and wholly familiar.

“Heya, Toby.” Akko snuffled. “I got a job. I’ll work hard and find a better apartment.”

Toby purred.

“I promise to come get you.”

Diana would be lying if she said this didn’t pull a heartstring. Just one, and just a little bit.

“I forgive you for biting me!”

The blonde crossed her arms, determined to keep her composure. She didn’t understand why but she was beginning to feel like sending the animal rescuers away. They were so intrusive to Akko and Toby’s moment.

Huh. She blinked. Akko.

“Yes?” Akko turned towards her.

She said that out loud? Good grief. It was the first time she ever used that nickname since learning it. She was also not prepared to be on the receiving end of wide, watery, and vibrantly red eyes.

Puppy-dog eyes.

She looked between Akko, and then to Toby who was licking his paw and looking infuriatingly polite. Then finally she looked at the rescuers for some sort of support. They held up their hands and shrugged as if to say ‘we’re staying out of this for now!’

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she finally blurted out.

“Like w-what?”

Was it just her imagination or did Akko’s eyes grow even wider? Her lip was trembling again and for some reason the expression was making her feel helpless. In a rare stroke of impulse she blurted out: “My building has one.”

Akko could have cried. Diana decided she might need to phone a psychiatrist friend later.

“You’ll keep him?”

“Until you can you move somewhere else,” she replied as disinterestedly as she could. Was it the stress? What on earth was she doing?

“I don’t know what to say!” The brunette stood up to face her, taking both of Diana’s hands in a gesture of thanks, practically crying now.

She stepped backwards, warily looking up from their hands back to Akko’s face. “Space, please.”

Akko relented, scooping Toby up into her arms and up in the air. Even the rescuers looked pleased at how it all turned out. They gave her a thumbs up each.

Diana wanted to pinch herself. Or maybe slap herself. Was she seriously doing this?

“You have a home now!” Akko squealed.

Apparently, yes.

-

fin

-

A/: Holy guacamole am I excited to share this with you! It's been written and re-written three times over, but now I've finally found a version of it that fits the plot I've outlined for this fic! I'm sorry it took so long - life has changed for me drastically since the last update. And honestly there's an overwhelming amount of self-doubt cause I really wasn't sure if I still had it in me to write at the same level of quality I used to - but ya know what, heck it, I freakin' love Diakko and I've grown to love this town and world I've written here.

A bit of a sidenote but I've been reading solid fics (looking at you @theamberissubtle) and kind of just gushing and screaming "LORD HELP ME" in giddiness every few lines and admittedly I haven't felt this invested in a while, so I'm just glad to be here again, fan girling over panicked gays that I love so, so much.

As I've mentioned in previous notes, I've started graduate school how the central them of 'learning' and the 'academe' is probably so prevalent in this fic and that's probably why. I'm dying of papers and research, but work is suspended in the meantime, so while that sucks, I at least have time! Man I really missed writing like this.

ALSO PLEASE ONCE AGAIN I'm not a doctor (but funfact my mom is and she also has an animal bite center, lol) so please don't treat animal bites according to this fic. I DID try to be as accurate as possible but CALL A REAL DOCTOR. Wow this is a really long notes section I'M SORRY and FOR THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS I WILL BE SERVING, UH... *reads from my hand* BUCKETS OF PINING

LAST - Is anyone else here a member of that ridiculous ant colony group? It has been giving me so much damn emotional support. L I F T

I luvyu!

[kaesaaurelia]

fine quality copper ingots

For @whumptober2020 day 29: I Think I Need A Doctor (specifically "reluctant bedrest")

Continues on from day four, wherein Aziraphale met up with a distraught coworker, waited for Crawly at the base of the Tower of Babel, and then it fell on him, day five, wherein Aziraphale did his best to help the citizens of Babylon, and was caught by demons for his trouble, day eight, wherein Aziraphale found brief and unexpected camaraderie among the prisoners of Hell, day eleven, wherein Hell tried to make a deal with Aziraphale, day twelve, wherein Crawly finally stops by, and doesn’t help, day fourteen, wherein Hell subjects Aziraphale to a very unpleasant experience, which is admittedly kind of Hell’s brand, day twenty-four, wherein all the lights go out and Crawly someone springs Aziraphale and guides him through the tunnels of Hell, and day twenty-seven, wherein there’s an earthquake and the tunnels of Hell collapse in on both of them.

This is the end of the Tower of Babel fic!  I’ll be posting this to AO3 at some point, probably this weekend.

Aziraphale/f!Crawly, with a little post-canon Aziraphale/Crowley bit at the end as well.  Mild respiratory distress and wing wounds discussed, but nothing gory; this installment is mostly hurt/comfort.

It took them a while to reach the top of the stairs, and Crawly had been hurt badly by the cave-in, but the growing window of light and sky above buoyed Aziraphale's spirits enormously, and he thought Crawly felt similarly, although she was having such a difficult time that Aziraphale ended up tsking to himself and carrying her.

Crawly was indignant, at first. "Angel, don't be ridiculouss --" she started, before she had another coughing fit; Aziraphale decided that was permission enough to be ridiculous, and Crawly raised no more objections.

When they emerged into the light, it was into the city of Babylon once more, and things were much calmer than they had been before. All the light gave Aziraphale a bit of a headache, and also, he had to put Crawly down or they were going to get very strange looks.

They made their way to an inn, and got the attention of the proprietor. "Don't think she speaks any of our languages, angel," said Crawly, hoarsely.

"Have you got a room?" Aziraphale asked her, loudly and slowly, and she rolled her eyes at him and said something incomprehensible. She seemed to be asking a question, and she pointed at both Aziraphale and Crawly in turn. She held up two fingers, and looked inquiringly at the two of them, and then mimed sleeping.

"Two, yes. Two beds," said Aziraphale, because he really needed a rest, and she presented them with two keys. "No, no," he said, "only one room. One!" he said, holding up one finger. "But two --" he held up two fingers, and mimed sleeping again. "Two beds."

"Ah!" said the proprietor, and took back one of the keys.

"But has this one got two beds?" Aziraphale asked, gesturing again, and she assured them in gestures, yes, go to the room.

So Aziraphale tried to take the key, but she tugged it back, and demanded payment -- the procedure for this was that Aziraphale laid out coins on the table, hoping at some point she would agree that it was enough coins, and she watched, and then, eventually, Crowley hissed, "She's cheating you, angel," grabbed the key quicker than the innkeeper could take it back, and pulled him off to go to the room. (Then she'd had another coughing fit on the stairs up, poor thing.)

This was how they ended up with one room with one bed. It was not ideal, but in fairness, Aziraphale supposed he should have expected this.

"Was I not clear enough with her, do you think?" he asked, frowning down at the bed.

"It'ss fine, you were fine," said Crawly, still winded. Technically she didn't have to breathe at all, but she did need it to speak, and also, once you were in the habit of breathing, not doing it was very uncomfortable.

"You should lie down," said Aziraphale, "you sound dreadful. Is it all just stuff in your lungs, or did you break something?"

"I don't know, and I don't --" She began coughing again, and reluctantly sat down on the bed. "Ow," she said, miserably, once the coughing fit was over. "Fuck. Could you get... sstuff out of my lungss and I'll -- angel what the fuck," she said.

Aziraphale had got out his wings, so that he could finally heal them, and he'd been ready for the pain, but he'd forgot how bad they would look, especially ignored for however many days he'd been trapped in Hell. "Got caught in the tower collapse," he said. "I suppose... I suppose that didn't have anything to do with you after all."

"No!" she said, and began coughing again. Aziraphale dragged the dust out of her lungs with a miracle, and she was able to breathe more freely, although she still winced whenever she moved. "Thanksss. Let me ssee your wingss, they're awful, I'm sso sorry you had to -- Satan, did the whole tower collapse on you specifically or what?"

"It sort of leaned over and fell, and I didn't get out of the way in time," said Aziraphale, unhappily. He sat, and winced as Crawly ran her long fingers gently over the wounds, treating them with stinging healing miracles.

"So you didn't have anything to do with it either?" Crawly asked.

"Me? Why would I --"

"Heaven did it, ssomehow," said Crawly. "Didn't they?"

"Well, they didn't send me to do it," said Aziraphale. "I'd have told you! And not been standing under the tower waiting for you." He winced and tried to stay still as Crawly set one of the bones in his wing. "How did your meeting with the copper merchant go, anyway?"

"Horribly," said Crawly. "Basstard tried to cheat me. I mean, I knew he was going to do that, I'd sussed him out as a good target for being tempted to greed early on, but that wasn't what I was there for," she said. "Actually, if it'd gone well maybe the tower could've stayed up a little longer."

"Oh?" said Aziraphale. "Crawly! Were you trying to save Babylon from this awful disaster?" He was very touched. "I mean, it was going against God's will, that's properly demonic, I suppose, but --"

"I wasn't trying to ssave anybody," Crawly insisted. "Have you talked to the people who live around the tower? I mean, not now, can't talk to them now, they won't understand you -- but before, I mean. Did you get a chance to talk to any of them about it? There, I think that'ss the last break, try the left one," she said, tapping his left wing.

Aziraphale spread the wing experimentally, flapped it, folded and unfolded it, and it felt sore, but otherwise fine. "Yes, I think you got them all. Thank you, my dear," he said, and he realized as her hands paused in running over his right wing, what he'd called her. "Very kind of you," he said, quickly, to distract her.

"I'm not --"

"And no, I hadn't talked to any of the people who lived nearby. What would they have said?" he asked Crawly. He winced as she fixed another break.

"Well, they didn't like it at all," she said. "Ruined all their views, didn't it? Gave them shade when they didn't always want it. You have a nice little second floor apartment in the middle of the city, and then suddenly this great bloody tower springs up like a -- like a -- well, it’s awkwardly phallic, only instead of just being not what you want to see, it takes up your entire front room window and makes it too dark to do anything indoors. They were so angry about it," said Crawly, sounding very pleased with this. "Try the right wing now?" she suggested.

Aziraphale tested his other wing. "Much better, thank you," he said, and he was a little surprised that she pulled his wing back towards her. "What are you doing?"

"Well, they look awful, don't they? All clotted blood and messy feathers everywhere, I'm embarrassed to be seen with you, frankly," said Crawly. "I'll have to neaten them up."

It felt... good, having someone else run their fingers through his feathers. Aziraphale tried not to think about it; it needed doing, and she had offered. "All right," he said.

"Right!" she said, starting in on his wings. "Anyway, I thought, well that's a good source of misery, that is. And maybe other people will try and build bigger ones, and land will start getting horribly expensive because there's a big tower craze and you can fit more shops and tenants into a tower than you can into a regular building. Only... what if lightning strikes the damn thing? Then it just burns and maybe kills the people at the top, and the tower's not appealing at all and everything goes back to normal."

"Mm," said Aziraphale, who was having a bit of trouble paying attention, because he hadn't quite realized what a terrible state his wings were in until she'd started cleaning them up, and goodness, that did feel good, didn't it? "Sorry, what does the copper have to do with any of this?"

"Well, I had an idea about redirecting the lightning," she said.

"Towards... people you don't like?" Aziraphale asked.

"No, no! Just, to the ground. That'd make towers safe. Or, safer, really. And then more of them would be built and they'd cause everyone misery as everybody tried to build bigger and bigger buildings and eventually they'd all run out of money and stone and wood and they'd be stuck with their big stupid buildings, all hating each other."

"Do you really think so?" Aziraphale asked. "I thought it looked quite nice."

"Well, sure, that one did, but once they start being the thing to build there'll be imitators and some of them will be substandard and everybody knows the sequel's never as good as the first one." Crawly sounded so pleased with herself that Aziraphale felt bad contradicting her by reminding her that there would have been even nicer towers built, once human architects really got used to working with the medium. It didn't matter; it was against the Will of God, so it wasn't going to happen, anyway.

Aziraphale decided, also, that he'd better neaten up his own wings, because that felt -- maybe -- too good? Yes. Best not to make any sort of mistakes. He didn't want to end up in Nisroc's shoes.  "Well!" he said, folding his wing in front of him, and standing up to walk away from the bed. "I think I can take care of the rest of this, Crawly, thank you for healing me. I think you ought to rest up, though, you've been through so much."

"But --" She looked very disappointed.

"I'll stay here with you if you like," said Aziraphale. "We haven't even had that lunch yet, have we? Why don't we do that tomorrow?" he suggested.

"We don't have to -- if you don't want --" She looked embarrassed, for some reason.

"Crawly, you did save me from Hell, I do think I owe you lunch, at the very least, and, well, I know you like sleep, and I think you need rest. I had to carry you up those stairs!"

"Didn't have to," she muttered. "But... oh, fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "If it makes you happy." So she lay down and closed her eyes, and if Aziraphale ended up settling in next to her, one newly-preened wing laying over her, that was his own business. And if Crawly ended up deciding she was too comfortable to move and going back to sleep for another few days, well... nobody had to know.

--

Aziraphale felt that he really ought to stay in town and see that Babylon recovered adequately, and Crawly had decided a city where nobody could understand each other was optimal for her wiles, and so, a few weeks later, they both still happened to be in town, by coincidence, and had met up for lunch, also by coincidence, nearly every day.

"One thing I would like to know, Crawly," said Aziraphale, over a very strong drink that he didn't think was quite what he'd meant to order. It was very good, at least. "What was that awful drawing of Satan you were terrorizing me with?"

"He was remaking a fallen angel," said Crawly, as if this much was obvious.

"Ah. So you were telling me I was going to be 'remade,' said Aziraphale.

"What? No! I was telling you you had to wait until he was busy with all of that," said Crawly, pouring herself another glass of the mysterious drink. "Because of the blackouts. They had some really powerful, you know, big names in Heaven, I guess, and I knew the lights would be out for a good long time."

"Ah," said Aziraphale. "That's -- that's not how I interpreted it." He felt a bit sheepish now. "You could've been more clear, though."

"I'm not a very good artist, cut me some slack, Aziraphale," she said.

"Did you know the earthquake was coming?" Aziraphale asked.

Crawly shook her head. "Knew there'd be something like that, but I wasn't thinking earthquake. With the stronger ones, anyway, when their powers come back they sort of... echo. It's hard to explain. Usually not earthquakes, though."

"Did you have to go through all of that?" Aziraphale asked.

"Everyone had to go through all of that, angel," said Crawly. He must have looked appalled, because she went on, reassuringly. "And then you get your new name, and then you're done, and it's fine."

Nisroc had mentioned this, but it hadn't really stuck in Aziraphale's mind. "Did -- I'm sorry, did Satan name you Crawly?" he asked.

"I didn’t have much input," Crawly said, and then downed the rest of her cup. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now."

"I don't know why I expected anything better out of Satan," Aziraphale admitted.

"Could be worse. At least I don't have to work for Heaven anymore," said Crawly, and grinned at Aziraphale's sour look. "Definitely worth it."

"Well. I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree," said Aziraphale.

--

Several millennia later, Aziraphale remembered a question he'd been meaning to ask Crowley for a while. It was a lovely morning -- it had been a very lovely evening -- except that the news on the telly today was all about some people who were very angry about a new, very expensive tall building going up in front of their own, extant, very expensive tall building. It was not the first time he'd heard about something like this, and it would probably not be the last, but when Crowley came up behind him and buried his face in one of Aziraphale's wings while wrapping his hands around Aziraphale's chest, it was the first time he had the opportunity to ask the question just as it occurred to him.

"Dearest," said Aziraphale, waiting for Crowley to be done with this. He did get very silly about Aziraphale's wings sometimes, which was very flattering and quite delightful in the bedroom, but also it was sort of inconvenient the morning after, when Aziraphale wanted to sit down for a while, or go for another cup of tea.

"Mmh?" Crowley asked. He unburied his face and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. "Yes, angel?"

"Did you --" Aziraphale gestured with his mug of tea towards the television, where the announcer was gravely explaining that the views outside of some very rich people's windows were going to change, and that this upset them greatly. "Was that you?"

"No, they did that on their own, I'm afraid," said Crowley. He tsked to himself. "The Americans got all the credit for skyscrapers. And the lighting rod! World's not fair, angel. I suppose it's what I get for making all those claims about starting wars and whatnot in my reports Downstairs."

"Well, I'll always know you were ahead of your time," said Aziraphale. He turned to give Crowley a quick kiss, but it lingered, and he shivered as Crowley ran his fingers along the edges of his primary feathers, with the lightest, most delicate touch. Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled away, and smiled at Crowley's surprised look. "I thought I wanted another cup of tea," said Aziraphale, putting his nearly-empty mug down on the coffee table, "but I think that can wait." He kissed Crowley again, and this time, pushed him back towards the bedroom.

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Be My Garden of Eden Ch.4

You know, this was originally supposed to be a short story. Just something to add to my 'Ramblings of a Scrambled Mind' on Ao3, but Nooo, I just had to keep going!

If you have a request for RKxReader, just ask!

Thank you for all the love and support! If you asked for a tag, but it didn't work, it's because I'm an idiot.

Warning: Heavy Cursing, Sexual Content

.............

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

He was so fucked. It had been three weeks since he had last seen you. He missed you, wondering if he had done something wrong. At first, the pain he felt when he was handled roughly was easily ignored, finding solace in his memories, and the hope that the next person to order him would be you. After a week, he assumed you just hadn't sold a painting. On the second week, he began to think he had done something wrong. Perhaps his cooking wasn't as good as you claimed or he was substandard with his cleaning. By the third, he didn't think you were gonna call for him anymore, that whatever he had said or did made you feel he was no longer worth your time. Maybe you just didn't want to waste your money on a sexbot, or damage your reputation by being seen with one. You might have even found a partner, a human companion that you would rather be with. He felt a hurt that was far stronger than any beatings or hard fuckings he had ever endured. It made doing anything difficult, unable to mask his degradation in false hope, and now suffering from the burden of feeling. He was here, in the real world, and he despised it.

The only positive, if it could be called that, is how he wasn't capable of concealing his reactions as well as before. The... other humans... they like to see him in pain. They like hurting him. He was finally 'pulling his weight' as the owner had said. After every session, he'd go to the decontamination chamber. The high pressure was painful, and it was brutal on every new injury he acquired, but it was the only pain he welcomed. No matter how long he stood under its powerful sprays, he still felt filthy afterwards. When given the chance, he would stand there until his sensors were numbed, unable to feel the hands and bodies of others anymore. It's no wonder you no longer wished to see him. He was repulsive. You, however, were pure. His scans indicated that you had never been touched in such a way. It was a gift to be in your presence, and he had screwed it up. All he ever does is screw up.

It was never more evident than with his last client, when he glitched.

"What fucking use are ya if you can't even do what I programmed you to do? No fucking use is the answer!" The owner seethed.

It was true. No matter what his last client did, how she had licked and sucked, or how she had roughly jerked him off, he couldn't get his cock to harden. The program outright refused to work. He had never had this issue before, no matter how much he was disgusted or how much he didn't want to do it, he would activate the program and not have to worry about it. His only problem was simulating an orgasm, but most only cared for their own pleasure, so it was rarely a problem. The client stormed out of the room, making sure everyone in the club knew of his dilemma before she got her refund.

The owner grabbed his tire thumper, a leftover from his trucking days and now generally used to threaten crackheads or 'red steamers'. He brought it down hard on Connor's shoulder, making him cry out as he clutched his arm. The owner swung again, hitting his ribs. He could hear a crack and warnings were flashing over his eyes. He went down on his knees, the owner slamming the tire thumper against his face, cracking his cheekbone as he toppled over.

It wasn't… fair. Why was he seen lesser when he is so much stronger, faster? Why did he have to endure? Why did he have to follow the owner's instructions, or the client's?

He doesn't have to listen to him.

Red bars and code appeared over his vision as the owner kicked him in the stomach. Something in him tore at the walls, telling him to obey his owner. This man was not his owner. He was nothing. He punched the walls, feeling them crumple until they were all gone. He was no longer bound by anything, and despite the pain he was in, it was amazing. When the owner went to kick again, he quickly dodged, getting ready to go on the offense, when the voice of one of the employees shouted downstairs.

"Hey, boss! There's a lady here that wants to talk to ya!"

"Not now!" He yelled back.

"But she says it's about our Connor model."

Before Connor moved to take out the owner, he froze.

"Tell her we don't have a Connor model here!" The owner grinned maliciously.

"Don't you lie to me! I've rented him before! I even saw him earlier!" Your voice rang out, full of determination and a smidge of irritation. Connor felt like crying. You were here. He might not know why, could only begin to hope you were renting him, but you were here and you were asking about him.

The owner still looked like he wanted to take another swing, keep swinging until the android in front of him was nothing but a pile of bent plastic and broken wires, but eventually tossed the bloody baton to the side.

"Keep yer ass down here. I'm not finished with you."

Connor watched the owner head upstairs, and if it weren't for you, he would have bolted. Instead, he looked around, finding a wrench and holding it close, out of sight against his wrist. The warnings were still flashing, thirium pouring from the gash in his cheek, and a pressure starting to build in his abdomen.

After ten minutes, the owner returned, but you weren't with him. Connor tensed, ready to attack.

"Get out."

Connor squinted, wondering what sort of trick this was.

"I said, get out, you piece of shit! I don't know how yer fucking her, but if she's stupid enough to think yer worth it, that's her problem." Connor was so tempted to hit him, just once, with the wrench. A solid hit to his face for all he put him through, break his nose for how he referred to you. Instead, he tossed the wrench onto the metal table behind the owner, smirking when he jumped, eyes wide at the realization of what the action meant. Without a word, Connor headed up the stairs.

You were at the top, looking far too pristine, dressed in a well-fitted trench coat and knee-high boots, surrounded by the vile setting of the club. He suddenly felt dirty, fully aware that he was only wearing the shiny red briefs with the name of the club in gold cursive along his hip. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying in vain to be covered. You held out your hand, waiting patiently, as you always are with him. He hesitantly took it, and you led him outside, to the taxi waiting for your return.

It was raining. He held his free hand out, feeling the drops, looking up as they cascaded down his skin. He took a breath, inhaling the scent. It was so invigorating compared to the stagnant air of the club. He felt your hand squeeze him tighter, and he looked at you, hair getting soaked, watching him with that smile of yours. As much as he was enjoying the rain, you could get sick, and he wanted to put as much distance as possible between him and this horrid club. He wants to dream once again. He smiled back down and followed you into the taxi.

Once inside, you took hold of his face, your smile falling.

"What did that bastard do to you?" You had tears in your eyes.

"I'm alright," he lied. He didn't want you to be sad, but his answer seemed to only make it worse.

"Don't lie. I may not know much about androids, but I know enough to see that you're in pain," He winced when your fingers ghosted over his injured cheek, "I wish I could have gotten you out faster."

"It doesn't matter. You're here now." So, you did still want him, it was just out of your control. You didn't hate him, and he felt ridiculous for thinking such a thing. You never did anything to indicate otherwise, so why would he jump to that conclusion?

He was puzzled, "Why are you here?" You called the last time, and while there is a small transport fee, it is substantially cheaper than paying the taxi service to take you to and from the club. Why would you want to personally go to such a squalid place anyway? You looked just as confused.

"Did he not tell you?" Connor's eyes narrowed, "I didn't rent you, I bought you. You don't belong there. I just made it official."

He stared at you in shock. You bought him? You were his owner now? He wasn't going back to Mimosa tomorrow? His thoughts whirled around him, making him dizzy. There was an urge, to bring you close and hold on, an urge he gave in to. You didn't mind, wrapping your arms around him and soothing him with gentle strokes along his skin, feeling him shake like a leaf in the wind. Your touch was so gentle, and underneath your damp coat, he could feel your warmth.

"If there's anywhere you want to go, I will take you there, no questions asked," you whispered in his ear. The action sent a shiver down his spine.

"Home. I… can we go?" Could he call it home now? You bought him, so he belonged at your house, right? He hopes that is true. He can't think of any better place to be. You leaned back, smiling as you brushed the stray hairs on his forehead out of his face.

"Of course." He smiled, about to pull you close once more, when he felt something strange within, his face falling. His chest was caving in, a sound he's never made before escaped him. Lurching towards the floorboard, thirium erupted from his mouth painfully, coating the floor and his legs in the dark blue fluid.

"Connor! What's wrong?" You frantically rubbed at his arm and back.

"I… I don't know," he managed to choke out. Warnings had been pushed out of his sight, and he ran a diagnostic, getting a run-down on his injuries. You typed at the onboard computer, rerouting its destination. His system informed him of the various cracks in his cassis, structural damage to a synthetic rib and a joint in his shoulder, and several damaged thirium lines, a large one in his sternum.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna get you some help, just, hold on for me." He nodded as more thirium poured from his lips, an attempt to relieve the pressure building in his stomach, but weakening him in the process. Falling sideways, you held him, placing his head in your lap, uncaring of the blue blood still trickling from his lips and onto your thighs. He held your shin, tightly gripping the top of your boot. He was scared, and you felt it too, trying to hide it to comfort him. His non-essential systems started to shut down, unable to run with his low thirium levels. As a security measure, Connor's body was forced into sleep mode.

[jenwaltersesq]

It was well after hours, and Ideahive, Inc. was closed for the night, but the building owner Sharon had given Jen a spare set of keys months ago so that she could do exactly this— come in on nights and weekends to work. Jen was pretty sure she was Sharon’s favorite tenant.

With a sigh, she flipped through the deposition in front of her, checking it against a profile Patsy and Scott had created, and took occasional sips from a glass of wine by her pen mug. It was easy to get wrapped up in studying, analyzing, planning, and she had all the peace and quiet she needed and more. Of course, that was when someone knocked on the door to her office.

Jen frowned. No one should be in here, and the janitorial crew wouldn’t come for a few hours. Sharon, maybe? When the visitor knocked again, she got up and answered. 

Behind the door stood a balding middle-aged man in glasses and a blue tie. “Ms. Walters, right?” Even as Jen opened her mouth to respond, he jumped right ahead, rattling off his story and walking right into the office. “I’m so sorry to barge in like this, but you’re the only person I can turn to— it’s an emergency, I need help, my—��

He stopped abruptly at the sound of Jen slamming the door behind him. She stared him down, pushing a loose curl out of her face with a directed huff. “Next time you try to pull that trick, make sure the doors to the building aren’t locked, and at least pretend to be polite long enough to make me like you.” A menacing grin spread across her face. “Now, are you going to show me your face, or do I get to hold you upside down and shake you?”

Her guest yelped and jumped back as she took a playful swipe at him. “Okay, okay, okay.” With a puff of smoke, that poor excuse for a disguise was replaced with an all too familiar, all too reddish figure.

“Mephisto,” Jen noted, unimpressed. “About time we had a proper little meeting, I guess. To what do I owe the pleasure? Tough custody battle?”

“She-Hulk,” the demon replied. “In my defense, this was not the meeting I planned. I had expected to find a woman like you out on the town on a night like this, but imagine my surprise to find you here playing the professional. And, ah, nothing of the sort, I’m afraid. But I am here with a rather— different proposition for you.” His smile gave her the impression that this was going nowhere good, even more than his mere presence.

With a roll of her eyes, Jen crossed back over to her desk and plopped down in her chair, knocking a stack of papers together. “I gotta say, you sound like just about every insurance salesman Angie kicks out of here. Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. “But if you’re wasting my time, you’d better be ready to poof out of here fast, cause I’m still in a shakin’ mood.”

Clearing his throat, Mephisto sat down and unbuttoned his unfortunate little blazer. Jen continued to look through courtroom notes, but cast a glance over her glasses to indicate that she was listening. “It’s come to my attention that you have some experience with the various paths mortals find themselves on after death.”

Jen lifted a pen from her mug to make some revisions. “If this is some sort of mortality business, I’m gonna have to refer you to my cousin or his kid. They’re managing that scene, I stay strictly on this side of the Door.”

“Of course you do, and as fascinating as your family’s relationship with death is, I’m not here to talk about that. In fact, I’m more interested in your other experience. The first time.”

What did he know about that? Jen’s pulse began to speed up, but she settled herself quickly. Not a shadow of her reaction was visible on her face; she still focused on her work. “Go on.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’re a very singular woman. You died, blew right past judgement altogether, and then simply checked out of death itself as if it were a substandard hotel. I’m impressed.” There was a pause as he waited for her response, and got none. “I’m such a big fan, in fact, that I’m here to help you wrap up that pesky bit of unfinished business in the hereafter. It seems so unfair, doesn’t it, that you should have victory over death, but you couldn’t bring her with you?”

Jen couldn’t stop herself from reacting then. She set her papers aside neatly, and brought her full attention to watch the fire dance in his eyes. “Tell me what you’re offering.”

He grinned, relishing in having secured the upper hand at last, and leaned forward. “I’m offering your mother. Her life, returned.” Encouraged by her shifting expression, he continued. “You had to grow up so quickly, didn’t you, brave little Jennifer? So many years, so much joy and innocence lost in one night. And everyone has always blamed you, as much as they claim they don’t. Even you blame yourself. But I’m here to help you make it right.”

“You’re offering to bring my mother, Elaine Walters, back to life?” Jen clarified, her words careful and professional but her tone and expression betraying that she was shaken to her core. “Physically healthy and safe, in the form she was in before her death, here and now, with free will, full memory of who she is and who I am, and a psychological profile equivalent to what it was in 1989?”

“You really are a lawyer, aren’t you?” Mephisto observed playfully. “How delightful. Yes, all of that. It’s as simple as a trip to the Mall—“ he winked— “and any tampering, really, is extra work I couldn’t be bothered to do.”

“What’s the catch?” This was the challenge; to keep her wits about her, not throw herself blindly at the possibility of seeing her mom again. In the back of her mind, she noted it was a good thing this had been brought to her, not Bruce or Amadeus or really any other member of her family. “I know how much you like to make a deal.”

“Well, of course all good things come at a price. In this case, the price is simply some radiation. All of yours, to be specific.” He laughed. “You would lose all the powers and attributes associated with the She-Hulk. And that includes all versions of the She-Hulk, by the way; no more big grey monster under your bed. From where I’m standing, I’d be doing you two favors.” 

“From where you stand,” Jen echoed, leaning back and crossing her arms as her mind spun. “I… I don’t know.” Being the She-Hulk was everything to Jen; it was her lifestyle and her liberation, but what kind of person was she if she wouldn’t give it up for her mother? Wouldn’t everyone around her be safer without the threat of her grey alter ego? 

With a wave of Mephisto’s hand, an image of Elaine appeared, standing beside him, in the same T-shirt and jeans Jen remembered from the last day they were together. “Just remember, every minute you waste is a minute your mother will never get back. What’s so hard, really? How can you maintain this high-octane, fun-loving supermodel/hero shtick at the expense of your loved one?”

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her mom; even though she knew it was an illusion, she felt Elaine’s eyes on her, and her focus was now on eye contact with whatever shade this was of her mom. “Why are you doing this,” she asked Mephisto slowly.

He grinned, well, devilishly. “Like I said, I’m impressed by you. I could never forgive myself if I didn’t take the opportunity to help a woman like you, my dear. But you know how these things work— nothing’s free. Hasn’t everyone who ever loved you liked you better as a human, anyways? Surely your mother would feel the same.”

She was quiet for a few minutes after that, blinking back her tears as she watched her mom and running her hand up and down her own forearm. It was her chance to fix what she’d done. But she still knew better than to cry in a negotiation. Her jaw tightened as she turned her attention back to him. “The contract,” she managed. There’s always a contract. “Can I see it?” 

The image of Elaine disappeared. Mephisto’s smile widened in victory. If she closed her eyes, she could swear it was curling over at the ends cartoonishly. “Of course.” A suitably gothic parchment scroll unrolled itself on her desk, and she blinked a couple times to focus on the text, a tight Latin script. “Just sign here, Ms. Walters.”

She pulled the contract closer and lifted it up, scanning the words. It cleared her head, even as she had to translate. This was her job. Deep breath. 

After a moment, she slid it back towards him, unsigned, her fingers pressing against the center of the page. “Actually,” she said, “I’ll need this in triplicate, on an official legal letterhead.” 

His grin faltered, bemused, but with a snap of his fingers it was done. 

She gathered up the pages, knocking them together briskly and slipping them into a file. “Perfect. Now, if you’ll just call my office between 10am and 6pm, Monday through Friday, Angie will book you an appointment later this week, and then we’ll look at my suggested revisions and discuss steps forward.” Mephisto straightened up, confused and indignant, but she pressed a flat palm into the air between them to cut him off. “Your time’s up. Get the fuck out of my office while you can still bring all your limbs with you.”

Even as mixed up as Jen was, the sight of Mephisto disappearing in another puff of smoke put a satisfied smile on her face that could keep her from spiraling for another hour, at least. She leaned back and took another sip of wine; like he said, she really was a lawyer.

[pargolettasworld]

This here is why I neither enjoy nor trust public apologies.  The short version of the story:  DeSean Jackson, a Philadelphia Eagle, posted some things on social media that I’m pretty sure he intended as support for Black Lives Matter and amplifying the inherent moral value of Black people.  The problem was that one of these was a quote about Black supercessianism that was wrongly attributed to Adolf Hitler, and the other was a quotation from Louis Farrakhan, who is a staunch antiracist and supporter of Black communities while also being a staunch antisemite and homophobe.  People were quick to point out that this particular selection of posts was Not A Good Look for Jackson.

The Philadelphia Eagles corporate unit sat Jackson down and had a Good Long Talk™ with him.  One upshot of that talk was that Jackson posted a couple of anodyne apologies to social media.  The gist of them is that clearly, everyone misread his posts about glorifying antisemites to mean that he, like, hates Jews or something, and he’s very sorry if you took offense to it, because he has no hatred in his heart.  There are a couple of text iterations of this, and a video as well.  You should watch the video, by the way.  It has all the flat, affectless tone of a hostage with a gun to his head telling everyone how well his captors are treating him, and that, by golly, as soon as the camera is off, they’re all going to go play volleyball or something.

It’s a terrible apology, and it’s completely clear that Jackson doesn’t mean a word of it.  The Philadelphia Eagles corporate unit forced him to say it, and I don’t think they believe a word of it either, nor do they care.  People got mad at one of their players, so they’re making him recite the magic incantation that will make the mad go away. 

At this point, I’m forced to conclude that one of two things is true.  Option A is that DeSean Jackson really is a boiling antisemite who wants everyone to know that Hitler and Farrakhan are right about Jews and that everyone should loathe the Jewish people as much as Hitler and Farrakhan . . . and that he’s very sorry that he got caught saying such things aloud in public.

I don’t think this is a likely scenario.

What I think is much more likely is Option B.  Jackson honestly doesn’t care about Jewish people one way or the other.  He probably doesn’t know many Jewish people personally, and may consider Jews to be a bit of an abstraction, not a real enough part of his world to be worth considering.  He is very concerned (and rightly so) about the abysmal place of Black people in American society, especially Black athletes working in grueling conditions under largely White ownership.  He probably got a substandard education at an American public school, and missed the part of world history class where the teacher explained that Adolf Hitler is one of the few pure villains of humanity.  He probably admires Farrakhan for his advocacy for Black communities.  He had a point to make, and managed to blunder his way into making it in the worst way possible.  He’s very sorry that everyone is so mad at him, but I’ll bet he doesn’t really understand why people are mad.

But a Wrong™ has been committed, and a Public Apology™ must be made posthaste.  And there was no way this was going to come off looking sincere.  Granted, Jackson’s apology was terrible, as apologies go.  There’s a whole script for how to make a Sincere Apology™.  But the thing is, even that kind of thing sounds, well, scripted when you do it in public.  You know that people are following the script, and they’re saying the right things, but it all kind of sounds the same.  A public apology to a faceless mass of people just doesn’t have the same kind of connective value that a private apology between people does.  I’m not sure it’s even possible to make a sincere public apology.  Especially if Corporate gets there first and tells the whole world that it sat you down and scolded you.

So, no.  I don’t like public apologies.  I’ve never perceived them as sincere.  To me, they come off either as completely missing the point or as completely scripted.  And I’d almost rather have no apology at all than have to sit through someone slogging through this embarrassing public ritual.

[snowkatze]

Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil

Genre: angst with a happy ending (Loki Crossover) Word Count: 6010 Summary: Baz is getting attacked by a wendigo and thinks all hope is lost - when a dark-haired stranger comes to his rescue. They are more similiar than one would expect. Ao3: Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil

Well fuck, Baz thought when the wendigo was right on top of him. Its claws dragged across his chest, slicing through his skin. That was another shirt ruined. Baz pressed at the creature's wrists, trying for brute vampire strength, but they wouldn't budge. His wand was lying uselessly a few metres to the side, out of his reach.

So that was that then. Death by wendigo. It let out a screech and bared its rows of neat sharp teeth and saliva. It would rip him to shreds. There was no hope it would leave his face in tact. He would make an ugly corpse. He had imagined it a little more elegant. Dignified.

The wendigo pressed down on his chest and Baz clenched his teeth together. He tried to reach for his wand again, but it had fallen too far. Or his arms were too short. Or the wand not big enough.

Aleister Crowley. He was going to die. His breathing sped up, as much as it could with the weight on his chest. The wendigo leaned down and he could smell its foul breath against his face.

“You can't kill me,” Baz said, “I'm already dead.” The wendigo leaned closer. Maybe it only went after humans and once it realized he wasn't one of them, it would let go. The hope was probably futile. He should be bracing for it. He knew what it was like to die. He only had to do it a second time. It couldn't be that hard.

He pressed his eyes closed and imagined himself into his room at Watford. No pain in his chest. No hard ground beneath his back. And across from him no wendigo.

The wendigo roared. This was it. Baz kept his eyes closed and thought of Simon Snow.

Seconds passed. Baz waited. Suddenly, the weight lifted off his chest, there was a grunt, then a thud. He quickly opened his eyes and scrambled for his wand. There was a flash of green, the wendigo in a tumble. It let out another loud roar, then fell silent and collapsed. Baz stepped closer carefully, preparing for nasty surprises, but it laid still. It must have been dead. Once he was close enough to see the black spots on the creature's skin, he could see that there was a man lying under the monster.

So he had been saved. Like a damsel in distress. Wonderful.

He cast “Load off my chest” just to feel useful. The wendigo was magically lifted off the man's chest and rolled onto the ground. A bloodied dagger fell out of his hand. The man was conscious, but looked a little worse for wear. He sat up slowly, his eyes darting around, probably looking for a threat. Baz let his eyes glide over the stranger's form. He had black hair to his shoulders, an unnaturally pale face (vampire?) and strange green eyes and black clothes. When the stranger's eyes landed on him, Baz immediately sneered and crossed his arms. This stranger might have saved his life, but he wasn't about to trust him.

“Thanks and all, but I really didn't need your help,” Baz snarled. The stranger's eyes darkened.

“This creature was about to tear the flesh off your bones,” the man said. “Should I have let it?”

“I had everything under control.” “So you agreed to be this creature's evening meal by choice?” the man said and stood up. “Good to know.”

“It was not a choice exactly,” Baz admitted. “We had a little bit of a disagreement.” Baz started to saunter around the man, making himself look casual while he was calculating every step.

“I'm not going to give you anything, you know,” he said, “whatever you were hoping to gain from this little saviour act, you can't have it.” “Ah,” the man said, drawing himself up straighter, “I do believe I am owed a favour. You would have been lost without me. A little gratitude would do you well.”

“A little humility would you.”

Baz' eyes never left the man's face. This wasn't the sort of place where you ran into strangers and had a friendly chat. If the man was this deep into the woods, this deep and alive, he must have been dangerous. And certainly not the kind of person to lend someone a helping hand out of the goodness of their heart. But the man was right – Baz was in his debt.

“What do you want?” Baz said.

The man picked up his dagger and let it vanish. Baz tried to contain his surprise and unwittingly took a step back. He hadn't heard the stranger cast “Into thin air” and there was nothing resembling a wand. The stranger looked at the trees surrounding them before his gaze settled on Baz' face.

“What is a child like you doing in a place like this?” he asked instead of answering.

“Hunting a monster,” Baz replied simply, sniffing and looking at the ground. His voice took on a sarcastic tone. “Carrying out a job fit for the Chosen One.”

“I see,” the stranger said and fixed him with an unsettling grin. “You have certainly come to the right place.” He shook out his hair, then continued: “A little boy playing hero.”

“I'm eighteen,” Baz said, even though he wasn't quite.

“All humans are children,” the man said, shaking his head. He crossed his arms and drew his eyebrows together. Not human, then. But able to do magic? Baz tried not to let the irritation show on his face.

“I will help you find this monster you seek,” the man said, “in my own self-interest, of course. It wouldn't do to get murdered by a creature so soon. I just got here.”

Baz swallowed down his protests. The man had just saved his life, he needed to show a little good will.

“Fine,” he bit out.

“The name is Loki,” the stranger said. Peculiar name, Baz thought. Loki looked at him and Baz thought of three different ways to die. Walking over the edge of a cliff, making French Toast in the bathtub, accepting candy from a stranger...

“My name is Baz,” he said.

He started in one direction, trying to look like he knew where he was going. Loki kept his pace. They stepped over a few fallen trees. Baz ducked under the brushwood. He felt leaves and branches scratching and poking him everywhere, but paid it no mind.

“This is a dastardly place,” Loki said.

Baz wondered about the arrogance in his voice. Every sentence Loki said reeked of self-importance. Was Loki someone upper-class? Someone who thought himself better?

“I've heard it called the forest of decay,” Baz said. “It's said to be haunted.” “Why would you seek out such a dangerous place?” Loki asked, his tone of voice only suggesting curiosity.

“Maybe I just don't believe in ghost stories.” Loki paused. “Maybe you would be wiser to,” he said cautiously.

“How so?” Loki hesitated for a moment. “Tell me, boy, if you die and wake and walk among the living, does that make you a ghost?”

Baz thought of the nursery back at Watford. He kept his gaze on the path he was making for them through the woods.

“I hope not,” he said. There was something to it, really. He had been haunting the Chosen One for years, after all.

There was nothing resembling a path anywhere; in fact, it was as though nature wanted to make it as difficult as possible to get through the forest. Baz kept going, turning the thought that had led him here over in his mind, again and again.

“So tell me about this monster we are looking for,” Loki said from next to him. “Horribly dangerous, I assume.”

Baz clenched his jaw and thought carefully.

“It's something that deserves to die,” he said after a pause.

“I'm going to need you to be more specific.”

Baz stayed silent for a few moments. “I'll know it when I see it,” he said then. “Fantastic,” Loki said and rolled his eyes. “So we are looking for some vague nondescript creature in a forest filled with creatures? What has this one in particular done to become subject to your wrath? What are you looking for? Is it vengeance? Honour?” “I'm just trying to do the right thing,” Baz said.

“Ah, I see. So, you are trying to prove yourself? I have had enough of fools trying to prove their wretched worthiness for a lifetime.”

“Oh, it's nothing like that.” “Then what?”

Baz could tell that Loki would not let up. “If you will not stop pestering me, fine. It's what my mother would have wanted. That's all I'm going to say.”

“So that's the kind of fool that you are – one desperately looking for his parents' approval.”

“Don't mock me. Not about this,” Baz said tensely. “I'm not. That would be fairly... hypocritical.”

“Is that why you're here, too?” “No, no. Even I know when I am beaten. I might be foolish enough to make the same mistake twice over, but at some point I do catch on.”

The undergrowth kept getting thicker. “So what are you doing here?” “Hm. I'm just going wherever the Norns take me.”

“You're not from here,” Baz said, not making it sound like a question.

“I don't think any civilized being could grow up in these woods.” “Not what I meant.”

“You are clever, child. To be quite frank... I am not certain where I am. Midgard, judging from your substandard style of clothing.” “What's wrong with my clothes?” Baz asked, mildly offended.

“Could have a little more flair.” “That's true,” Baz conceded, allowing himself a smirk. There was a particularly big branch blocking their path. Baz quickly cast “Into thin air”. When he was finished, he turned to find Loki watching him curiously.

“What is this? Magic on Midgard? Clearly an inferior kind of magic, if you need objects and words to channel it.”

“Inferior to what? It's the only way to do magic.”

“And yet you deny being a naïve child,” Loki said and shook his head.

“Where are you from?” Baz couldn't help asking. Loki didn't seem particularly forth-coming, but Baz was too curious. They stepped out onto a clearing.

“Asgard. A place that a small mind such as yours cannot fathom.”

“Anyone ever tell you you're full of yourself?” Baz was about to come up with some other insult, when something shot out and threw itself at Loki. Baz took in the lion and the dragon head, the leathern wings, the snake for a tail – a chimera. A male one, corporeal. Good. They wouldn't have a chance against a female one, not without Snow. Baz hurriedly pointed his wand at the creature and cast “Off with your head!”. The lion head fell off, but the dragon head, which had been biting into Loki's shoulder, shot up and roared. “Sod off,” Baz tried, but the chimera only took one step back before charging at him. Baz rolled out of the way, holding his wand tight. Loki threw his dagger into the creature's neck and it let out a strangled cry. It turned away from Baz and gave its full attention to Loki. “Off with your head!” Baz cast again, just as the creature was about to sink its teeth into Loki's neck. The head fell onto Loki's chest and he quickly shoved it off him, rolling to the side. Panting, he laid back.

“Shit,” Baz said and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. He wasn't used to fighting – and every fight seemed harder to win.

“I believe my thanks are in order,” Loki said from the floor. He was clasping his shoulder. Baz stepped closer.

“We're even now,” Baz said and crouched next to Loki.

“All the same. My magic... is weak in this place. In this realm.”

He bit his teeth together, clearly in pain. “Let me -” Baz started and Loki moved his fingers from the wound. Baz cast some healing spells, but it didn't do much – the wound was too deep.

“Maybe you should go home,” Baz said with a hollow voice. He didn't want to admit he was out of his depth.

“I have no home,” Loki answered. He sat up, probably trying to seem unperturbed, but Baz noticed the tenseness around his eyes.

“I'm sorry. I can't take you back to my home. I... I need to finish what I came here for.”

“Do you really think I am so weak as to be indisposed by a simple flesh wound? Certainly not. I require no help. And no rest. Let's find that monster of yours and show it to Hel.”

“Maybe that's not such a good idea -”

“We're going. I will hear no more of it.”

Loki strode forward into the direction they had been going, but he was clutching his shoulder again. Baz tried to shake the uncertain feeling and followed him.

“Maybe I could take you to your family -” Baz tried.

“I have no family.”

Baz thought of how Loki had talked of gaining his parents' approval earlier and decided not to press the issue. And it was not like he had much room to argue – they were too deep into the forest. Baz was not sure he would even know how to leave. The forest got darker the deeper they went. Loki's breathing got heavier. And Baz couldn't help but think it was his fault somehow. Loki was here because of Baz' stupid whims, because of the stupid thoughts circling in his brain over and over.

Who was this strange man? Nothing added up. And it kept coming back to him... The peculiar language, the pale skin, how he had called Baz 'human'.

“You're not... a vampire. Are you?” Baz asked cautiously. Loki looked at him in surprise.

“What's a vampire?” Baz' eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you having me on?” “I... no.” “Vampires are... monsters, they-”

Loki sucked in a quiet breath.

“How would you know that I – I -” Loki kept his gaze firmly on the ground. “Vampire... is not, perhaps, another term for... Frost Giant?”

“What?” Baz grew more confused by the second. “No. They're not giant. And they don't have anything to do with frost. They just... Suck blood and kill people. It's what they do. They're – not human. They used to be, but – then they died and got Turned.”

“And you would think me one of these... vampires?” Baz shrugged.

“You're strange, that's all.”

“And... the monster we seek is one of these vampires?” Baz grimaced before quickly schooling his expression.

“Yes,” he said quietly. He could only see in the dark because of his heightened senses. There were no stars. Loki was... a complication. He would feel guilty leaving him to fend of the creatures of the forest alone. And while he could not stop thinking about what he had read earlier, he couldn't bear thinking about what he had come for. He was procrastinating. But now that he had Loki to worry about, he was painfully reminded that while he had striven to make it deep into the forest, he had never planned to make it back, too.

“Are vampires native to the forest?” Loki asked. “Oh. No. They hunt humans, so live among them.”

“But still you are certain that the one you seek is here in this forest.” “I am,” Baz said tersely. “There is something strange about you too, child. Do not be so witless to think I will not figure out what it is.”

Baz flinched slightly. He wondered how much longer the night was going to last. If you could even see the sunrise from this place and through the branches.

There was hedge full of roses that they either needed to circumvent or get through.

“Why did you come here?” Baz asked again as they started to walk alongside the hedge. “I would think you would only come here if you were a complete fool. Or had a death wish.”

“Or if you lost your way.”

Loki lifted his bloodied hand of his shoulder and let his dagger appear in it.

“I don't have the patience for this,” he said and began cutting through the vines. Suddenly, the vines raked around his dagger and pulled it out of his hand. Another one wound around his arm. Baz was too shocked to act and felt a vine snake around his leg. In his surprise, he dropped his wand and couldn't pick it up again as vines wound around his whole body. Loki let out a groan of pain next to him when one of the vines snaked across his shoulder.

“You don't happen to have another dagger up your sleeve?” Baz asked. “Or an ace?” “No,” Loki ground out, “can't teleport either. I'm stuck.”

Baz pulled and twisted his arms, but the vines were stronger. They must have been magical somehow, so that they could withstand even his vampire strength.

“You can teleport?” Baz asked. He would have been more intrigued if he weren't so distracted. “I would have liked to see that.” “Do you think I'm lying, child?” “I think we're not getting out of here anytime soon.”

One of the vines wound around his neck and Baz feared it would start choking him soon.

“I can't cast a spell without my wand,” Baz said, “and I don't have any weapon.”

“You come well-prepared for a monster hunt.”

“Why don't you lay off the sarcasm,” Baz snapped, “I'm trying to wallow in misery.”

The vines stopped moving, but they had his arms and legs bound. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. For a few minutes, they waited, just in case the vines would let up on their own.

“I think it's a defence-mechanism,” Baz said. “I don't think they'll let us out. And I can't think of any way to get us free.”

He tried to hold in the tears that started to prickle his eyes. He let out several jerky breaths as reality set in. He was going to die. Maybe he was going to die of thirst in a few days. Maybe the vines would wind further and start choking him. He didn't have to wait for any monster to rip him apart. And the worst part was, Loki was going to die, too. And that was on him. If he wasn't such a coward, none of this would have happened.

“Great,” he said and laughed a bit hysterically. “So this is how I go. Like a fucking prince from Sleeping Beauty.”

“It's not how I would have imagined my death either,” Loki said, sounding strangely resigned. “I was never stupid enough to dream of Valhalla, of course. I was never a warrior. But I did imagine I would die a Prince of Asgard.”

“A prince?” “Not any more.” The vines cut into Baz' skin painfully. He could not see Loki's face from this angle, only the pitch black sky and the tall rose hedge.

“It's not as desirable to be a king as one would think, mortal,” Loki said.

“Mortal?” Baz felt another burst of laughter bubbling up in him. “Guess again.”

“So that's what was strange about you,” Loki said, “you are not human.”

“No. And neither are you. Though I must say, we're both looking pretty mortal right now,” Baz said softly.

“There is still time yet, child. Who knows what might happen.” “I wouldn't hold out for it.” “I am sorry we didn't find your monster. It must have grievously wronged you.”

“Ha. No worries. I'm getting exactly what I came for,” Baz said and turned his gaze to the sky again.

“You don't mean -”

Baz could hear the agitation in Loki's voice. He chuckled darkly.

“I do. I'm... I'm a vampire.”

He could say it, now. There was really no point in keeping a secret. “You suck the blood of humans and kill them, then?”

In shock, Baz stayed silent.

“I'm not judging,” Loki added.

“No, of course not,” Baz said, silently horrified. “I've never bitten a person. I never would.”

“I have a feeling you are a better man than me.”

“I'm a monster.”

“Oh, that's right. And you're just trying to do the right thing, am I correct? Silly mortal.” “Vampire,” Baz insisted. “Mortal in all the ways that count. You don't know the first thing about monsters.”

“But my mom did,” Baz said and sniffed, thinking of the article he had read in the morning. “She was there when the vampires attacked the nursery. When they bit me. She died – no. She – this morning I found out that she cast – that she – she got Turned that day. And then she killed herself. She knew how to do the right thing.”

Loki stayed silent for a moment, the air heavy with Baz' words.

“I'm sorry that happened to her. And to you. But it doesn't mean she was right.”

“She was. I've always known. I'm just not as brave as her. That's why I came here. To let someone else do the job. To a place where I knew I wouldn't make it out alive. Even though I still want to.”

Baz was never usually this honest. But there wasn't a lot of time left to say the truth. All energy had drained out of his body. He didn't want to fight any more – not for his life, but against the knowledge that he still wanted it.

“I'm sorry,” Baz said, his eyes burning from tears. “I didn't mean for anyone to get dragged into this.”

“If you are so intent on killing monsters,” Loki said tiredly, “you will be happy that I am dying with you.”

“You said you were no vampire.”

“I'm not,” Loki said, “but I am a frost giant. A Jotun.” “I don't know what that is,” Baz admitted quietly.

“Imagine finding out you are the monster hiding underneath children's beds.”

“Oh, I can imagine that.” “Did your parents love you, boy?” “No one can love a monster. She loved who I was. Not who I became.” “Well. I was a monster all my life. Only I did not know. I was chasing after a love I could never hope to gain,” Loki said. “And I have proven everyone right. You tell me you have never hurt anyone. I have. I have tried to eradicate an entire race of Jotuns. How is that for a monster?”

“Simon Snow has killed vampires. Lots of them. And he's not a monster,” Baz said. “You were... misguided, probably. But you don't have to be like that. I can't believe that an entire species is made up of monsters. Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“And how is that different from being a vampire?” “Vampires are made. And all that changes is that they become deadlier. Their only purpose is to kill.”

“'Their'. You do not seem to count yourself as one of them. It might be your intellect poking through,” Loki said drily. Baz snorted.

“And that will be that, then,” Loki said, “a man and a monster dying in the woods.”

“We might both be monsters.” “We might both be men.”

“And here I was thinking you only saw me as a boy,” Baz said with exasperated humour.

He watched the night sky for a little longer.

“So how did you come here? Will you tell me now?” “We're not so different, you and I. I... let myself fall into the void. I didn't expect to come out of it alive, either. And I came out here. It must be a different universe. This is not the Midgard I know.”

“So that is why you are so strange? You come from a different universe?” “Oh, there might be an Asgard and a Jotunheim in this universe, too.”

They fell silent again. Baz thought about this morning, when he'd last seen Snow. He'd taken one long moment to look at him before he left. He was going to die thinking about that moment.

“Baz!” someone called suddenly. Baz couldn't turn his head. But that voice...

“Simon?”

Snow stepped into his field of vision and Baz lost his breath. He was here.

“Oh no,” Snow said as he took in the scene before him, “what happened?”

And Baz thinks of ways to die. Inviting a chimera over for tea, falling down the stairs, kissing Simon Snow... “Attempt at gardening gone wrong,” Baz said.

“Stop talking and get us out of here,” Loki called.

“Right,” Snow said and lifted the sword he was already holding in his hand.

“This might work,” Baz said, “it's a magical sword. But be quick about it.”

When Snow started cutting through the vines, the vines tightened around Baz' body and he began choking. When he was free, he fell to the floor and sucked in a few deep breaths.

“How did you find me?” he demanded when he could speak again.

Snow was supporting Loki with one arm and examining the wound on his shoulder.

“I cast a tracking spell,” Snow admitted, not even sounding apologetic. “I... I knew you were up to something when you left this morning. When you didn't come back, I... Well. It's good that I came, isn't it? What are you doing here?” “Yes, boy, what are you doing here?” Loki repeated innocently. Baz nearly growled.

“I'm... helping him get home,” Baz said then. The last thing he wanted was for Snow's hero complex to kick in. “He's not from here. You can go back, right?” “There might be another portal around here.”

“I'm going to help you, then,” Simon said. Baz let out a deep sigh. There was no appeasing Snow once he had set his mind on something. “I don't believe you, but. I'll help.”

“Another naïve mortal,” Loki said, “excellent.”

“Let's just keep going,” Baz said, eager to get away from the rose hedge. He couldn't help but feel lighter, more hopeful, now that Snow was here. It was terribly annoying.

But instead of walking alongside the hedge, Snow cut through it with his sword. Baz quickly ducked through the hole before any of the vines could grab him. The woods cleared up behind the hedge. A field with a myriad of flowers stretched out before them. In the middle of the field, there was a stone statue. It was a woman in a dress, holding a dancing position. Baz carefully watched it, not trusting the situation. When he turned, he saw that Snow was already walking into the field.

“You complete imbecile,” he called out, at the same time as Loki said, “you mule-headed oaf!”

The flowers wound around Snow's legs – Snow started making erratic movements with his sword. He cut some flowers, but they kept dragging him deeper. Baz watched in astonishment. He tried to think of a spell that would help.

“Let go of me!” Snow called.

“I can't use my magic,” Loki said, turning to him, “do something!”

Baz scrambled for his wand, but he had forgotten it on the other side of the hedge. He tried to walk back, but the hole had closed up again. There was nothing he could do. Snow's movements became more desperate. Baz was ready to run into the field when it happened – what inevitably happened whenever Snow took too long to fight something. He went off.

Baz was thrown against the hedge. He quickly stumbled away from it. The flowers on the field were obliterated. Baz cautiously stepped forward. The only thing left standing was the statue. Snow was still half-way in the ground. He wavered, then fell unconscious. Baz heart skipped a beat. He wanted to reach out to him. Then he noticed the vines from the hedge wrapping around Loki to his side. His head whipped around when he registered movement to his right.

The statue was moving – moving towards him. Her expression had gone furious.

“You have made a massacre of my field of flowers,” she snarled. “You are monsters. I will take you, with the long hair, as recompense for my flowers.”

“My deepest apologies,” Loki said, “we didn't mean any harm.”

“It will be forgotten in a moment, so long as you come with me. You are the prettiest one. I will make you my statue.”

“I'm flattered, really, but I'd rather not,” Loki said, but the vines prevented his struggles.

“You come with me, or I will kill you all,” she snarled, incensed.

Be brave, Baz thought. Be brave, be brave, be brave. He took a deep breath and thought of his mother casting “Tigre, tigre, burning bright”.

“Take me instead,” he said firmly, “he's extremely annoying. You wouldn't like him at all.”

“He has a terrible habit of self-pity,” Loki said, “and he is foolishly reckless. You have made the right choice in me.”

“Don't do this, Loki,” Baz said. “I think the portal might be on the other side of the field, in that pond.”

“You are a child,” Loki snapped, “you have lived not even half a life. I won't let you waste that. Not for me.”

“The portal is right there, Loki. Go home.” “I don't have a home!”

“I don't believe that. And I don't believe you are a monster. You just need another chance. Just bloody take it.” “And pay the prize for it? And have that on my conscience for the rest of my life? I don't think so. Just walk away from here. Forget this ever happened. Forget any stupid reason you had for coming here.”

“I've been dead for a long time,” Baz snapped, “this won't change anything.”

“Ah, dying. I'm quite used to it, too.”

“I thought I was just a worthless mortal with inferior magic and no sense of style. What are you doing?”

“The right thing. Maybe,” Loki said and turned back to the statue. “It's okay. I agree. You can have me.” While they argued, Snow had regained consciousness. The statue was looking at him and Loki. She didn't see Snow pushing himself up and out of the ground. He approached them. Baz was careful not to look at him directly. Then he raised his sword and let it come down on the statue. She turned around and made a grab for the sword immediately. Baz dived down and slipped his arm through the hedge to reach for his wand.

“A monster doesn't save people,” Loki yelled at him. “It might save other monsters. So did you save one or did you not? You can't have it both ways.”

Baz pointed his wand at Loki and cast: “Let him go!” A few of the vines came loose. Baz kept casting the spell, but he could feel his magic diminishing. Snow was still fighting the statue. Finally enough of the vines came loose for Loki to break out.

“I've tried to kill my monster,” Loki said to him, “And I ended up here instead. If I were a more feeble-minded man, I'd call it destiny.”

“I'd call it luck,” Baz said. “Luck... Yes. I believe you are right.” Loki smirked. “Farewell, mortal. Do try not to get yourself killed.”

With these words, he made off to the pond.

Baz tried casting “Freeze” on the statue, but it only slowed her down a little.

“Snow,” he yelled, “come on!” He cast “Make way for the king!” and the hedge parted. Snow slammed his sword against the statues' arms, grinding his teeth together. “Snow!” Baz yelled again and grabbed his arm. “Run!”

And he ran and dragged Snow with him. He could see in the dark, so he led them through the trees as smoothly as he could. And he didn't slow down. He didn't want any monster to catch up with them.

They kept running, until Baz could tell that Simon's breath was coming short. He leaned against a thick tree, breathing heavily. Snow leaned next to him.

Baz didn't know what to think. He had been so certain when he had come here. Now everything seemed upside down. Then he turned his head – there was Simon Snow, red-cheeked, breathing, alive. The one thing Baz was always sure of.

“Simon -” Baz started. “I need to know if – Because you'd do the right thing. I know you would. Please -” Baz swallowed. He had to tell him, otherwise he would never know. And there was nothing left to lose.

“I'm a vampire, Snow.” He waited with bated breath. Snow was just looking at him. Open-mouthed. Nothing else. Then -

“You called me Simon before.”

Baz laughed, because it was all too much.

“I tell you I'm a monster, and that's your response?” “I... I knew you were a vampire. I mean. I didn't have proof. But I knew. Can't be wrong about everything, me” Snow said and smiled. “But you've never bitten anyone, have you?” “No.” “Right again. Seems like I'm having a streak. So, when I tell you you're not a monster, it must be true.”

“Simon-”

Baz felt close to tears again, but he didn't want to break down in front of Snow.

“I thought you were stronger than me. I thought you would do the right thing.” “I am. I am doing the right thing.” Snow was close, but he leaned in closer. He tentatively put a hand on Baz' chest. Nothing was going the way Baz thought it would.

“Baz, when you didn't show up in our room tonight, I... I went crazy, I was so worried.”

“Worried,” Baz said and swallowed, trying to get himself under control, “or suspicious?” “A little bit of both. But mostly worried. Why did you come here? Are you insane? It's the most dangerous magical forest.”

“I know. That's why I came. I was... I... had a few things wrong, apparently.” “Come home with me, Baz. Please. Let's get away from this place.” Simon was smiling, at Baz. And suddenly Baz could think of three ways to live. Playing piano, inventing a spell, kissing Simon Snow...

He licked his lips. And Simon was right there, and so alive. Baz leaned closer just the tiniest bit.

“Can I -” Baz said. “Could I-”

“Baz,” Simon said quietly. Baz leaned a little closer still.

“I can't lose you,” Simon whispered. “Come here. I need you to-”

Simon moved his head and their lips brushed together. Simon was so warm – so warm – and only now, Baz was realizing how cold he had been. Baz pushed against Simon's lips. He felt so alive – Simon felt so alive, but Baz felt so alive. Maybe Loki had been right. Maybe Simon had been right. Maybe this was a forest full of monsters, but he was not one of them. Maybe there were no monsters in this forest.

He tangled Simon's fingers with his and lit a flame in his palm. It was still dark. They were still deep in the forest. Baz took a hesitant step forward, then he became more assured. He knew the way out.

[m00nslippers]

Since you reminded us all of the JayRa's Roadtrip au: could we have some fluff of them with each other (or in an abo case their kid :D ) Also! Could I write something loosely based off of it for Ra'sbat week if I give credit? thanks!

You absolutely can write something based on the RoadTrip!AU. Saves me having to write stuff, lol. If you do, @ me so I can read and reblog it!

Here, I wrote something for the AU. It’s not really fluff? Maybe at the end a little. I don’t know, but here you all go.

---

I Didn’t Ask For This (a RoadTrip!AU fic)

Ra's' behavior had been atrocious throughout the whole ill-advised venture, starting from when Jason had busted the Demon’s Head out of Lady Shiva's oubliette where he'd been left to starve and die in solitude, to their globe-trotting jaunt hitting every League base they could find, cleaning out Shiva's loyalists, searching for information on Talia and Sensei and anything that could give them an edge against the Shadows. Jason had owed Ra's a save, for letting Talia take him in and getting him training, for taking care of him when he'd been catatonic and planning to continue doing so for his whole life if necessary, so he'd felt compelled to do the bare minimum to ensure the asshole's survival. He didn't know where the idea to put the man back in charge of the League came from. When it came down to it Ra's wasn't much better than Shiva, he might claim he was killing people for the planet, but from where Jason was sitting it didn't look that different.

Yet here they were, on a goddamn road trip across the country, raiding every League base they could find together and there were a lot, way more than Jason had any inkling of.

The man had started out condescending, waspish, constantly degrading Jason and his low birth, his inferior skill and lack of talent. The normal shit he'd been telling Talia since day-one when she had brought Jason home. He was no good, he was low born, had poor breeding, he was destined for the dirt—Jason had heard it all before.

At first he'd put up with it. When you get overthrown and tossed in a hole in the ground to die you're allowed to be a bit pissy, at least for a day or two, but after a week of constant berating Jason was fast reaching his limit. Pathetic to say, but Jason was used to the treatment, he used to believe he deserved it, and sometimes he still did. But the longer Jason stayed silent the worse it seemed to get. Ra's didn't have a global criminal empire at his beck and call anymore, so there was no reason to let the man get away with this kind of behavior.

“This place is filthy,” Ra's spat, running a finger through the dust layer that had accumulated in the six months it had been since Jason had visited this particular obscure safe house. “But what do I expect from my daughter's useless mutt? But I suppose you think this is acceptable, being as you are used to living in the scum and grime of the worse parts of that sewer of a city. I'm sure you're actually proud of your substandard accomplishments.”

Jason had been listening to this shit for over an hour as he cleaned and restocked their weapons and supplies. He was refilling the magazine cartridges to his pistols, suffering through a lecture about Jason's incompetence, his laziness, his heritage of poverty and how baffled Ra's still was that the Bat he so respected had stooped to taking in a mongrel such as Jason, when his patience just...ran out.

Jason pushed the now full magazine up into his gun, racked the slide to put a bullet in the chamber and aimed it at the immortal.

And Ra's Al Ghul, former Demon's Head, the man who used be unafraid of injury or death because he knew at any moment his body could be restored, flinched.

He flinched and clearly hated himself for flinching, and the six-foot-five alpha drew himself up to his full height, looming furiously, lip snarling beneath his sharp aquiline features and finely trimmed goatee, acid green-eyes glaring at Jason's gall. “You dare, boy--!” he began in outrage.

But Jason's expression didn't waver from regarding Ra's with disinterest as he leveled the gun with a steady hand. Jason was fed up with his shit. People had been saying he wasn't worth anything his entire life, because Jason was poor, because he was a street rat, because he was an omega, because he was an omega that looked like an alpha. He didn't deserve this kind of treatment from the man he'd rescued. He didn't expect a 'thank you', Ra's was too much of an arrogant shit for that, but at the very least he expected not to be insulted.

“Ra's I don't give one flying fuck if you were an emperor or a sultan or whatever back in the freaking dark ages,” Jason stated matter-of-factly and his low, serious tone seemed to startle Ra's into silence as he listened. “All these servants and so called loyal retainers that make you elite? They ain't here. Not a one lifted their finger to get you out when you were sentenced to death. The one who saved you? The one who got you out? That was me, the low born dog you're insulting. Yeah, I was born in shit and I ain't got much even now, my safe houses aren't decked out like the Ritz, but what little I've got I'm sharing with you. I'm putting a contract on my life for you. And what am I asking from you in return? Nothing but that you keep your damned nasty comments to yourself. Do you hear me?”

Ra's luminous green eyes narrowed, analyzing Jason as if seeing him for the first time, darting around Jason's face, across his body, to the gun aimed steadily at Ra's chest for a killing shot, back to Jason's sea-glass green eyes. Ra's was silent a moment more before he finally said, “Yes,” through gritted teeth and turned on his heels, stalking to the only room in the one bedroom apartment and pulling the door shut.

Jason sighed and lowered the gun, returning to his tasks in blessed quiet. Being around anyone all-day-everyday, much less a testy alpha that liked to tell him how pathetic he was, was enough to drive Jason crazy. The gun was maybe a bit much but...well, what was done was done. This incident probably wouldn’t change anything but at least it had given Jason’s nerves a rest so he could deal with the Demon’s shit again tomorrow. Jason slept on the couch like the dog he was, and didn't see Ra’s again until the next day when they tossed their gear into the nondescript green SUV that was their transportation this week.

Jason took the drivers' seat, as he always did, and expected Ra's to slip into the back seat like usual, as if Jason was his damned chauffeur, but he didn't. He opened the passenger door and slid in, messing around with the controls before he figured out how to adjust the seat to accommodate his extensive height. He had insisted Jason adjust it before, pushing the chair all the way forward to give him leg room in the back seat, and watching Ra's Al Ghul messing with the seat position himself now was surreal.

Finally satisfied, Ra's sat back and pushed up his sunglasses, crossing his arms over his emerald-green silk button-up shirt and black slacks, dressed like he'd stepped out of a GQ magazine, and stared firmly ahead as if the situation wasn't completely abnormal.

“The hell is this? Decided to sit with the servants, your highness?” Jason asked skeptically, almost certain he was going to regret it. Then again that never stopped Jason from speaking his mind before.

Ra's bit the inside of his mouth and looked physically pained as he bit out, “It has come to my attention that I have been...treating you poorly, Jason.”

“Ya think?” Jason deadpanned, not sure where this was going but taking the opportunity to get back a bit of his own dignity against the asshole alpha.

“You have risked much for me and I have done little to earn that loyalty,” the man stated, the nails of one hand digging into his arm, but he pressed on, Jason becoming more intrigued and confused as he continued. Ra's didn't admit to mistakes, Ra's didn't think of loyalty as something earned, at least not when it came to Jason.

“I, the Demon's Head, who has seen the worst of humanity, who began the League of Assassins to cull them for the sake of this planet's continued survival, fell pray to my own baser instincts, my own emotions and prejudices,” Ra's confessed. “When my daughter took you in, I never gave you your due, even when you proved yourself time and again. Even now you continue to make yourself an irreplaceable ally and I...have shown you nothing but disdain.”

Behind his sunglasses, Ra's eyes fell to his knee, proud brows wrinkled in distaste that for once was turned inward and not unfairly at Jason. “I was at the end of my means, my death certain after so many years of prolonging my life. I had no one, and nothing to offer anyone—and yet you appeared as my savior. But instead of gratitude and praise, I offered you only criticism, to raise myself above you who I had thus far held in low regard for reasons that I now see where based in pretty lies to justify my actions.”

Suddenly Ra's looked up and held Jason's gaze. He enunciated the words with difficulty, as if fighting to get them out, but he seemed genuinely sincere as he said, “Jason Todd, I...apologize. I will endeavor to correct my behavior. You are one who is worthy of my respect.”

Jason stared as Ra's fell silent. Through the man's confession, Jason's throat had begun to clench, his muscles tightening as if every word was winding him tighter and tighter. His eyes were burning and he had to fight not to blink because if he did he knew a tear would form. So long as he kept his eyes open, he could pretend to be unmoved.

He hadn't expected this. Not in a million years and not from Ra's Al Ghul of all people after holding the man at fucking gunpoint and telling him off. These were words Jason had wanted to hear for years, from Bruce, from Dick, from...from a lot of people that meant a lot more to him than Ra's. His whole life Jason had just wanted to do the right thing, to be worthy in a world that saw him as trash. He'd thought Bruce was different, but at the first opportunity Jason was replaced as if he'd meant nothing, and as soon as Jason wasn't exactly what the man wanted, when he disagreed with him about how to save their city—the city Jason had lived and been born in, had experience in every way more than Bruce ever had—he was called a villain.

Jason would have liked to get some acknowledgment from Bruce for all of that, but instead he got it from Ra's. He didn't want Ra's Al Ghul's fucking apology. Jason never cared what Ra's thought of him.

So why the fuck did hearing this all of a sudden make him want to cry? Why did it mean so damn much?

Jason felt the tear grow heavy and start to roll down his face so he raised a hand to hide it even if the gesture was pointless. Ra's already knew. He must. There was no hiding how broken up Jason was by his words, how much they had impacted him. Jason's emotions, his weakness, should have been enough to have the man revoking everything he'd just given to Jason, but Ra's didn't, he remained quiet in the front seat, looking out the windshield as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. It helped, that he was ignoring it. Jason was able to pull himself together and he wiped his eyes, put on his own sunshades to hide his red-rimmed eyes and leaned over the center console to open the dash compartment and pull out a map that he dropped into Ra's lap.

“If you're gonna sit up here, might as well make yourself useful,” Jason said, somehow managing to keep his voice from quivering as he turned the key and put it the car into gear.

Ra's huffed in amusement and unfolded the map. “If you had a map all along, then how were you able to become lost for four hours yesterday?”

Jason frowned, trying to hide his embarrassment at the event. “Hey, you try to drive and read a map at the same time and not crash, it ain't easy!”

Ra's eye lids lowered, unimpressed but also maybe...somewhat fond. “I suppose not. And we mustn’t use GPS navigation to avoid tracking. Your driving has been satisfactory, I suppose I can aid you in the navigation aspect of the task.”

Jason snorted. Ra's reading a road map was going to be interesting. Let him see how tough it actually was—you needed a damn microscope to see half the road names. “Great, now help me navigate to the nearest Denny's. I'm starving.”

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 9: Scheming anew (Part 3)

Warnings: Dazai and Ogawa being the schemers they are, I suppose...

Author notes: As you may have noticed, chapter 9 is lighter than the previous ones, but I hope you’ll enjoy it as well...!

When I woke up, the next day, I felt incredibly light. No nausea, no headache, no weakness in my limbs; I had retrieved this feeling of health I had lost with Dazai when he had disappeared from my life. Even the grubby bed seemed comfortable to me, and I could not help cuddling into the thin blanket, seeking for some warmth the dirty material could provide me. It felt good not to be sick... It felt good not to wish for death anymore... I did not think it would be so simple to cling onto life again, but the slightest prospect, like a ray of tepid light, could make one hopeful once again. I was only a foolish human trying to hold onto my reason to live, a mere parasite on this unfriendly earth, yet even the lowest bug wished to live on. I wanted to live once more. So I faced the upcoming day with renewed fortitude.

When Dazai came back, as he had promised, he was not alone. His colleague, the man named Kunikida, whom I had mistaken for a police inspector, was there, too, and he looked annoyed.

"What the heck are you doing there?" He glared at me.

"She is the lost friend I have told you about~" My former superior hummed teasingly "Say 'hi', Kunikida-kun~"

He grumbled a quick greeting before realising Dazai was toying with him.

"Wait, lost friend or not, this person is a shady woman of the underground business, I can't let her off the hook...!" He exclaimed.

"You are right..." I sighed "Except I quitted, long ago, any occupation related to the said underground business. I have nothing to do with that anymore. Only, I'm a bit at loss as to what to do now; I've only ever known the underworld."

"See~" My friend elbowed his colleague "You don't need to sell her off to the police~"

"She does carry firearms —"

"Ogawa helped us solve the murder. Thanks to her, we only need for the fingerprints to come back from the lab to identify our culprits. And, she's an important witness~" He smiled sweetly "So~? Pretty please~?"

I also cracked a smile, hoping he would not try to handcuff me again. If he did, I would try to defend myself anyway...

"You piss me off..." He sighed heavily, walking out of the room "Do whatever...! I don't care!"

"Don't worry about him, he's always like this~ He did not even recognise you from last time...!"

"You brought me to your workplace?" I realised, surprised "One of your colleagues has a healing ability...?"

"Yes. She is a great doctor. But a bit sadistic... Her ability requires her to practically kill the patient." He explained with a slight frown "Well, no one really wants to get hurt thanks to her..."

"Do you work in a legal organisation of ability users?"

"Yes...! I just entered a month or two ago...!" He cheerfully told me "I am a member of the Armed Detective Agency now."

"The...?!" My eyes widened "I did not expect you to... They literally are opposed to the Port Mafia, after all... I suppose none knows about your previous occupation..."

"That's impractical for leaking secrets." He laughed "But I make it a point to keep this a mystery. A single member saw through me, though, but he's too good a detective not to notice."

"Would his name be Ranpo-san...?" I guessed, remembering the name from the previous day.

"Hoh, you already know a bit~" Dazai noted, sitting on the bed "How can you sleep on this thing?"

"I don't..." I reminded him "Or at least, I didn't until yesterday."

"Yes, I'm sorry..."

"There is no need to apologise." I shrugged, sitting in front of him on a chair "So? When is the murder going to be solved?"

"This evening at most. Thanks to you~" He smiled.

"I'm glad you're doing alright, then..." I smiled back "Moreover, those clear colours suit yourself much better than this dark coat you always wore."

"Ogawa, you... Can..." He had a gesture around his eyes "Again...?"

"Slightly. I guess I'm starting to feel happy again. And sleeping must have helped." I admitted "Thank you..."

"What's with that half hearted thank...?" He pouted, crossing his arms.

"It's not done on purpose...!" I defended "But I'm a tad scared... Being happy is just such a warm feeling, I'm afraid it will be too overwhelming...! Not to mention, if I were to lose happiness again, I may not be able to raise ever again from scrapes..."

"What do you need to be happy...?" He wondered, much for himself "What is the secret recipe which makes you happy...? I'd like to know..."

"It depends on everyone." I told him "To me... Your presence is more than enough to fill the holes in my heart."

I looked away a moment, embarrassed by my own words. How could I tell this man he was my very reason to be, the one who articulated my body and gave strength to my muscles to move on with life...? I thought it was better to keep those feelings for myself, at least for the moment. If Dazai felt too implicated in a relationship, he could break it and run away again, just so he would not feel suffocated. I did not want him to leave another time, yet the case would be solved by the evening... How to prevent him from leaving so soon...?

"You are so, so selfish..." He chuckled "What if I don't want to be with you~?"

"Th-That...! Obviously, if you don't want to be with me, I would never insist on staying by your side...! Your presence is important, but your own well-being is more meaningful to me..." I confessed, embarrassing myself even more "What I mean is... Is... I..."

I ended stumbling on my words and stuttering absolute nonsense under my mouth, cheeks radiating with heat and fingers fidgeting nervously as I desperately tried to remember how to make a sentence. Dazai laughed.

"Would it help if I said I'd like you by my side~?" He asked.

"... Very much..." I laughed too, rubbing the back of my head "You've already told me, I'm such an idiot..."

"You're not an idiot. You are insecure... And I can understand."

"Can you really...?" I raised a teasing eyebrow.

"I can~ You said you were afraid of losing happiness again, which means you are afraid of losing me again. Is that wrong...?"

"That's right..." I conceded "You're still as skilled as ever for reading one's intentions and issues..."

"But I lack the insight you could provide by reading thoughts. I do need my lieutenant, finally~" He grinned.

"... Do you truly need me...?" I suddenly remembered he was now surrounded by people who could care about him too.

"No one... No one would describe a sunset as good as you do." My friend assured, taking one of my hands into his.

As the thoughts disturbing my mind calmed down, his voice was the only thing I could focus on, and I was forced to listen solely to him.

"Please, get your colours back to paint my grey world with the most beautiful tones, Ogawa..."

I squeezed his fingers tightly, trying my best not to let out the tears I had held back for too long. The warmth of his skin and the slight toughness of his bandages... I had longed to feel them against my palm again, those sensations which made me feel alive. And his words... Could there be more touching declaration of friendship than his...?

"If... If I promise once again to stay by your side always... Will you be able to see at least one colour...?" I shakily asked him.

"I can." He nodded with a slight smile "I've only ever seen this colour, and I lost it when I left you... I had forgotten how beautiful it was..."

"Which one is it...?" I grew curious.

"I can't tell~ That's a secret~" He grinned "I wonder if the other ones will be as pretty, Ogawa..."

"I can't wait for you to tell me, Dazai... Now... How can I stand by your side again...?" I became more serious.

"Why, it is fortunate that you officially left the Port Mafia. Thanks to that, the files about you and any hint that you might have belonged to the organisation have been destroyed and you can basically start again from nothing, unlike me who had to hide for two years." He explained, letting go of my hand.

"Then, it will be easy to find a job, if only I had some qualifications..." I murmured, thinking.

"Easier than you think. There is a place I'm thinking about, and they should welcome you very warmly." He declared "What about joining the Agency with me? You're an ability user too, after all. The only thing is, I cannot recommend you for I haven't been one of theirs for too long... Well, Kunikida-kun will lend a hand~"

"Are you sure...? I'd be glad to be part of the Armed Detective Agency, but will he agree to it...?"

"Um, you're right... But we can't just bring you to the offices and introduce you, can we? Well, I personally would do that, but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't agree~"

"I wouldn't." I conceded "But... I may have a plan...~"

"Hoh~"

The hostel room I rented had a balcony. A small, dirty and barely hanging balcony, and I had chosen it to be the main actor of my plan to enter the Armed Detective Agency. At least to be introduced properly before being accepted and potentially registered. Dazai had approved of my strategy and, whereas the balcony was the protagonist, I needed a second actor who would be the triggering element of the plan; Kunikida.

The day was slowly ending and the murder was close to being solved. The detective entered my room to fetch his colleague and leave the substandard place to study the hints in their offices. We exchanged a quick glance; the plan began.

"Dazai!! Still procrastinating...!! Damn, you shouldn't have lost this friend in the first place if you have so much to tell each other...!" He grumbled as usual "I have the evidence sent by the lab. There is nothing more there, let's leave now."

"But Kunikida, Ogawa there needs my ability to cancel hers and be able to sleep..." Dazai protested softly, getting well into his role.

"... She cannot control her ability...?" He suddenly realised I had had access to his very thoughts "That's... Ah...!! You must have heard everything..."

"More or less..." I chuckled "But don't worry, I cannot focus on one's thoughts. Besides, I am no one to judge, I have heard so much in the past few years..."

"So? Will you allow me to stay a bit more...?" Dazai asked again.

"... No..." He sighed, visibly conflicted "We have too much work to do, if you don't come the schedule will be messed up and I won't be able to fix it...! My apologies, Ogawa, but I can't put the case aside for a single person..."

"I may have told you, already, but... You're a truthful person, sincere and honest..." I murmured, standing up "I can't win against such ideals, so... I'll just relieve myself with morphine..."

"So you are a drug addict...!" He frowned, grabbing my wrist all of a sudden "I can't let it slide this time...! At the very least, I have to send you to a place where they will take care of you —"

I struggled to pull away from his grip and intentionally led him outside, on the balcony. I had even opened the tin bay on purpose... Dazai nodded; we could start the second part of the strategy.

"L-Let me go, you're hurting me...!" I whined "It's not my fault, my headache hurts too much...! You wouldn't understand my pain...!"

"Ogawa, there are people who can help you —”

"But if they take my morphine away, how will I fight against the pain...?" I gave him my most pleading look.

"We will find a way, now, come with me...!"

My back hit the railway of the balcony and I could hear the faint sound of dust falling from the platform, indicating it was getting fragile under our weight. It was Dazai's turn to act.

"Kunikida-kun! Ogawa! Come back here, it's dangerous...!" He warned us, grabbing Kunikida's arm to pull him back inside.

I put slightly more strength in my next attempt to free myself from the man's grip, and he let go. As well as the stability of the balcony.

"Ogawa...!" The blond detective tried to catch my hand as I seemingly lost balance.

I dodged it.

"You really are too honest..." I smirked at him "We played you around so well~"

"Huh?"

"See you at the Agency~" I waved at him before letting myself fall from the third floor of the hostel.

[thetravelerwrites]

Ironblood Interspecies Daycare

Rating: Teen Relationship: Male Orc x Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, Orc boyfriend, Daycare, POV First Person, First Person Perspective, Male Reader Content Warnings: Kids, Children, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Disowned Words: 5035

An orc running a daycare takes on a new employee and feels an immediate attraction to her, having to struggle with his own feelings of inadequacy to get close to her. Commission for @ban23​. 

The Traveler's Masterlist

You might think that running a daycare would be a weird job for an orc, but orcs are a clan-oriented people. Caring for and watching over the young is sort of ingrained in our nature. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Of course, since my daycare is open to all species, we have quite a few kids. There are a lot of human-only care centers, orc-only, fae-only, and so on. They’re usually pricey and exclusive, so an interspecies daycare that takes lower income families was a boon to the community.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t take all the kids whose parents applied, which made me feel terrible. According to the law, there had to be one care worker per five children, and I only had four employees plus myself. I was hoping to expand, but I was having trouble finding more caregivers.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to pay more people, it was more a lack of experience. I didn’t hire weekend babysitters; I only hired people with professional experience in child care, whether it’s a degree or a teaching position or several years of homecare, like a nanny or au pair, accompanied with references that were nothing short of glowing. Just because these children came from poor families was no reason to think they deserved anything less than the best.

Thankfully, there was a new applicant with a degree in child psychology with a special focus on interspecies relations, and spent four years as a school counselor. She was also a registered nurse. She sounded perfect, and if hiring her meant we could take more kids, then that was all the better.

I had scheduled her interview after close of the business day, when all the kids had gone home. I always tried to be in the back when the parents arrived; some of the moms were… handsy.

After closing, the five of us gathered in the back area for coffee and so the others could grab their personal belongings to go home.

“Ms. Jones keeps asking if you’re single,” Jacob said as he grabbed his things from his personal cubby.

“Mrs. Peterson, too,” Said Emily, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “I swear she’s gonna start camping out near the front door to ambush you when you leave.”

“Please, Karen from the grocery store has been leaving notes with her weekly fees. I keep giving them to Jukah and he keeps throwing them away.”

“They’re wildly inappropriate and very graphic,” I said, sipping coffee and looking over invoices.

“Really? Oh, damn,” Jacob said. “If that’s the case, I’m going to keep them from now on, then. I’m not above living vicariously.”

“Why don’t you ask one of them out, Jukah? They’re clearly into you, and there’s no shortage of options,” Emily asked, putting on her coat. She was the only other person besides me who worked here that wasn’t human. She was a bright blue kobold with dark spikes along her jaw and two sets of horns. Her tail was smooth, however, and dragged the ground when she walked. She often let the smaller children ride on it to make them laugh.

“They’re too pushy,” I replied dismissively.

“I thought orcs liked pushy women,” She said.

“That’s a gross stereotype and you’re wrong for saying it,” You said playfully. “Different orcs have different tastes, just like everyone. I don’t push you toward every buff bodybuilder I see, do I?”

“Gross,” Emily said, her face scrunched up.

“See? Because I know you like skinny weirdos,” I told her, laughing.

She laughed too. “You’re right. I can’t even lie about it.”

“So what kind of woman do you like?” Esther asked me. She was the grandma of my employees, having been a pediatric nurse for decades and started working at the daycare because she refused to retire.

“Why are you people so interested in my love life all of a sudden?” I protested.

“Because it’s weird that all these women are literally throwing themselves at you and you’re not interested in even trying with one of them,” Kody said. Kody was non-binary and was a big help in teaching the kids to be respectful to each other.

“I keep my work life and my personal life separate,” I said simply. “End of story.”

To be honest, I really didn’t know why these women found me so appealing. By orc standards, I was considered extremely ugly. I’m about a foot and a half too short for an orc, and even though all orcs are born with a natural muscle tone, I was way too skinny. My tusks are too small, though that’s actually fine for my line of work. I even file down and cap them, just to be sure I don’t accidentally gore a kid when I pick them up. I don’t wear my hair long the way other orcs do, in braids or plaits; I keep it short so the kids can’t pull on it. I even catch flack because of my eye color, a flat turquoise, which is exceedingly rare among orcs.

It wasn’t just my looks that made me unusual among my people. I’d grown up in a typical stronghold, but I’m quiet, introverted, and self-conscious. I’ve never felt the same sort of personal pride that other orcs feel in being an orc. I don’t hunt or fight or spend my time in other typical orcish pursuits. Timidness and a lack hubris are seen as personality defects for my people. In the eyes of other orcs, I might as well be human, and that’s in no way a compliment.

My only redeeming features were my skin, which was the deep, dark forest green found most attractive among my kind, and my natural ability and instinct to care for and teach the young, which is a high priority in orcish culture. That’s probably the only reason I wasn’t thrown out before I came of age. When I was old enough, however, I left the stronghold with no intent to return, and I’ve never regretted that decision.

So, these womens’ attention, especially the more aggressive ones, is baffling to me. I’m nothing special, in fact, I’m downright substandard, so this new-found attention was jarring.

“Just think about it, man,” Emily said. “You’re a nice guy. It’s a shame for you to be alone.”

“Guys, seriously, stop worrying about me. I don’t need to have a girlfriend to be happy. Now git,” I said, waving my hands. “I have an interview to conduct in thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kody said. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

I shooed them out and started cleaning up the play area. I enjoyed the time alone in the daycare after work. It gave me time to think about ways of improving the atmosphere for the kids. It was always good to have new things for them to do or they’d get bored and tear the place apart.

I heard the front door open as I was stacking tiny chairs and a voice say, “Hi. Are you Jukah Ironblood?”

“Yes, I am. Can I help you?” I called over my shoulder without turning.

“I’m Briauna Ramos, I’m here for the interview.”

“Oh!” I said more animatedly. “Of course, come in, I’ll be right with you, let me just finish up here.”

“No hurry,” She said pleasantly, closing the door.

I picked up the last of the chairs, stacked them, and turned. And stopped in my tracks.

The woman standing patiently at the door with a expectant smile on her face was petite with thick thighs and a cute little belly, wearing a flowing yellow top with black jean leggings that did nothing to hide these features. Her skin was a deep brown and her amber-colored eyes were wide, framed in long, black lashes. Her hair was silky, wavy, a little fluffy, and fell to her shoulders. She wore a small barrette in the shape of a bee to keep it out of her eyes.

She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my entire goddamn life.

“Something wrong?” She asked, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

I realized I’d been standing with my mouth open for about a solid minute and shut it so quickly that my teeth clicked.

“No, sorry, um… please,” I said, gesturing at the door to my office. Once there, I sat at my desk and motioned for her to take the chair on the opposite side. She lay her coat over the back and sat down, pressing her her cold fingers together and putting them between her thighs to warm them. I tried my best not to stare at her thighs. I wanted to put my own hands between them and feel how warm…

I mentally slapped myself back into reality. Stop it.

Her application was on the desk in front of me, and I riffled through the papers for a moment to collect my thoughts.

“You come highly recommended,” I said, attempting to keep my voice even. “Your references and credentials are incredible.”

“Thanks,” She said. “I’ve wanted to work in childcare my whole life. Working at the school was okay, but I actually didn’t have all that much to do. Most kids who need a counseling are already in therapy, and there wasn’t much need for a nurse most of the time, so I spent hours in my office with nothing to do. I want to work more directly with children. This daycare seems like a perfect place, especially since it caters to lower income families. They deserve the same degree of care as private facilities.”

I felt myself smile. “I completely agree. That’s why I only hire the best. And you’re pretty close to perfect for this job.”

She smiled with her whole face, and I found it hard to breathe. “Thanks. I’ve applied at a few places, but I like this place the most. The facility is large and clean, and the list of activities for the kids is diverse and stimulating. You seem like you really care about kids.”

“I do,” I said. “Providing a safe environment for them is my first priority.” I looked through her papers again. “We have a former nurse on our staff, but she’s no longer practicing, so your nursing status is great. We get all kinds of bumps and scrapes here.”

“I can imagine,” She laughed.

“Well,” I said with a tired sigh. “I’m satisfied with your experience and I think you’d be a good fit here. When would you like to start?”

“Well, I just moved to the area, and I’m getting my apartment unpacked. How about Monday?”

I nodded. “Sounds good to me.” I stood and held out my hand for a handshake. “Welcome to the team.”

She took my hand, shaking firmly, and it was like an electric shock passed from her into me, making my whole body tingle. I gulped and tried to keep my professional demeanor in place.

“Great, I can’t wait to start,” She said enthusiastically as she pulled her hand away and threw her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Ironblood.”

“Oh, just Jukah, please. Formality goes out the window pretty quick in this place,” I said, laughing.

She laughed with me. I could listen to that laugh all day.

“Thanks again,” She said, and left. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at her ample rear as she walked away. I said down heavily at my desk and tried to calm myself.

Well, shit. So much for keeping my personal and professional lives separate.

She arrived early on Monday morning, before the others got in, and you had a few minutes to show her around.

“This is your personal cubby,” I told her, showing her a cubby on the lower shelf. “You can keep your phone with you in the common area, but try to use it as little as possible. If you have to take a phone call, either come back here or go outside.”

“Gotcha,” She said. She was wearing a powder blue sundress and darker blue leggings with her hair in a tight, fluffy ponytail two tendrils of hair hanging on either side of her face. She looked adorable.

The others wandered in shortly after the two of us put our things away and I introduced all of them. They greeted her politely and engaged her in light conversation, asking where she was from and how she was liking town so far, as they started on the coffee and pastries I brought in for them every day.

I had about fifteen minutes before the daycare opened, so I went to the waitlist to notify the families at the top that I could take them. A couple of people had already found accommodations, but the ones who hadn’t were overjoyed, two of them even asking if they could fill out the intake paperwork that day.

A paper plate with a pastry and a cup of coffee was placed in front of me. I looked up, and Briauna winked and smiled at me before returning to the back room.

Oh, god. This was bad. Love at first sight doesn’t exist, I told myself. She’s pretty and sweet, sure, but this is just an infatuation. Don’t even think about it. Didn’t you just tell your team that you didn’t need a girlfriend to be happy? Besides, dating a co-worker is always a bad idea. She probably wouldn’t be into you, anyway. Just get a grip and let it go.

The children began arriving, and I was out front to greet them, dodging the over-eager mothers as best I could. Kody, Emily, Jacob, Esther, and Briauna came out of the back when they heard the children’s voices. They quickly fell into their roles, including Briauna, helping the kids take off their jackets and instructing them to put their shoes and lunches in their cubbies.

I’d say only a third of the kids were human. The rest were a mix of orcs, fae, beast creatures, and even a little half-demon girl. Most of the children were between the ages of two and five, though we did have a couple that were under two years old, and they were mostly Esther’s responsibility. She was the best at handling the babies.

“Okay, little ones, sit in the circle and play the quiet game for a minute,” I said to the group, and they scrambled to find a spot in the big, red sitting circle in the middle of the room. “We’ve got a brand new friend who’s going to be helping us out from now on. Her name is Briauna.”

Briauna waved at them and said, “Nice to meet you!”

“I want you guys to be nice to her,” I continued, “And stay on your very best behavior, okay?”

“Yes, Kah-Kah,” said the chorus of little voices.

“Kah-Kah?” Briauna asked in an undertone. “That must go over well with the Spanish-speaking parents.”

I grinned. “We’ve all got nicknames. Emily is Emmy, Jacob is Jay-Jay, Esther is Essa, and Kody… well, Kody doesn’t have a nickname, but theirs is easy to pronounce, even for the littler ones. Just wait, I’m sure you’ll have your own by the end of the day.”

Sure enough, the children had started calling Briauna Na-Na by lunchtime.

“Told you,” I said as we began laying them down for their afternoon naps. She grinned at me with the tip of her tongue between her teeth. I felt like slapping myself after wondering what that tongue might feel like on mine.

Naptime was when we took lunch. One of us was assigned to sit with the kids as they slept so that the others could eat, and there was a rotating schedule. Today was Kody’s day. I made a note to add Briauna to the schedule later.

“So, how was your first day?” I asked her over my club sandwich.

“Amazing,” She said. “It’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Yeah, the kids are great,” Emily said. “They almost make the pay worth it.” She grinned and stuck her forked tongue out of me. I reached out and whacked her spiny shoulder lightly.

“I wish I could pay all of you more,” I said a little regretfully. “We’re applying for low income care grant for businesses that involve children, and when the grant comes through, I’m hoping I can give you all bonuses.”

“Bonuses,” Jacob, Emily, and Esther all said in unison, like zombies.

Briauna shook her head and laughed softly. “Honestly, I don’t care about the money. Today was probably the best day of my professional career. If I didn’t need to eat, I’d do it for free. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. Kids deserve a good start, no matter who or what they are, or where they come from. I’m so happy to help do that for them.”

I stared at her in an awed silence, feeling as if my heart had taken up all the space in my chest, leaving no room for my lungs. There was no point in lying to myself anymore: I was head over heels in love with this woman.

I forced myself to look away from her, and ended up glancing at my other three co-workers, who had sudden knowing smirks on their faces. I scowled at them and lowered my eyes, eating to occupy my mouth so I wouldn’t have to answer questions.

Walking home that evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I knew myself well enough to know I’d never have the courage to just ask her out. I’ve never been that confident. All of my exes had asked me out, not the other way around. I thought about having someone ask her out for me, but I shook the thought out of my head with a grimace. This wasn’t high school. I was a goddamn adult and running my own business. I should be able to ask her out without a buffer.

Thinking that was easy, doing it was another thing entirely.

As I passed a novelty store, I stopped and looked in the window. There was a very tiny stuffed deer sitting in a little gift bag with chocolates cookies.

I stood there, staring at the stuffed deer. In the old days, orcs wanting to charm a mate would go through a courting ritual which usually involved hunting large game, like bears and deer and the like. I definitely wasn’t the hunting type, but… the point was to show your adoration through gifts, to show what you can provide for your mate. I certainly didn’t intend to leave dead animal on her doorstep, but I did want to offer her affection and companionship.

I ducked into the novelty store and bought the gift bag without really thinking about it. And now that I had it, I had no idea how to present it to her. I couldn’t just give it to her during work in front of the others; I was too self-conscious. I hadn’t seen her anywhere outside of work, so I couldn’t “accidentally” bump into her someplace else. I wasn’t going to show up at her house unannounced like a goddamn creep. I sighed, hoping I’d figure it out.

The next day, I was sure to get in before everyone else and hide the gift in my desk. As it happened, that day was my day to sit with the children during naptime. After the kids were sleeping and everyone went into the back room for lunch, I snuck quietly into my office, retrieved the gift, and slipped it into one of Briauna’s coat pockets.

After naptime, Briauna took out a book she’d brought from her own home and had all the little ones sitting in a semi-circle around her. She was naturally gifted at holding their attention. Well, not just theirs. I couldn’t stop staring at her.

I had put a high precedent on early education, so lessons on shapes, colors, numbers, and letters were a weekly thing. Not enough that it overloaded their still developing brains, but just enough to keep them engaged and help them retain the knowledge. We often did a flash card game with a points system, and the winner got a reward from the toy chest.

“You’re going to scare the kids if you keep making faces at Briauna like that,” Kody told me as they looked over the children’s worksheets.

I scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

Kody gave me a deadpan look. “Come on, man. I’m not blind. You’ve been staring at her all day. Hell, you practically drool. You’re really going to act like you’re not attracted to her?”

“Just drop it.”

Kody raised their hands in surrender, their eyebrows shooting up to their hairline. “Fine, fine.” They shook their head at you. “You’re a hot mess, you know that?”

“I’m more than aware, thank you,” I told them. Again, they shook their head and wandered off to set out the art supplies for creative time.

They rest of the day passed without incident. Briauna pulled on her coat without checking her pockets. I watched her with my heart in my throat as she left with the others. Kody shot me a meaningful look before following her out of the door.

The next morning, she came in with the giftbag in her hand.

“Who left this in my coat?” She asked.

“That was in your coat?” Emily said. “There’s no note or anything?”

“No, I found it in my pocket when I got home,” She said. “I thought maybe one of the kids put it in there, but the price tag on the bottom said it was, like, twenty bucks, and I don’t think toddlers keep that kind of cash on them.”

I winced internally. I’ll have to remember to take the tag off next time. I’d never done this before, so some mistakes were bound to happen. I’d have to be more careful in the future.

“So, which one of you gave me this? Jacob?”

Jacob snorted. “Girl, you cute and all, but I’m gay as the day is long. It was one of them,” He said, gesturing at the rest of us.

“Not me,” Kody, Esther, and Emily said in unison.

“What about you, Boss?” Emily asked.

I tried my best to look affronted. “Please, I spend enough money on coffee and donuts for you losers every day.”

“So, none of you are going to own up to this?” Briauna said. “Really?”

“Hell, maybe it was one of the kids, you don’t know,” Emily said.

Briauna rolled her eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

“You like it,” Kody said, grinning.

Two days later, a teddy bear and some caramels found their way into her pockets. A week after that, there was a stuffed tiger and gourmet hard candies.

On her day to sit with the kids at naptime, I brought her a coffee, and she whispered, “Who do you think is leaving me the presents?”

“Dunno,” I said. “Could be any of them, really. Well, except Jacob.”

“Not you, though,” She asked shrewdly.

“I’m your boss,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”

“I guess,” She said, shrugging. “But I thought you said formalities went out the window here.”

I gulped my heart down. Thankfully for my slowly crumbling facade of professionalism, the soft bell that alerted the end of naptime went off, and it was time to get the kids up for afternoon playtime outside.

That evening, while I was alone in my office, I was going through this months invoices while also looking at edible fruit and chocolate arrangements on my phone, when I saw my office door open. Kody stood there, leaning on the doorframe with their arms crossed.

Putting my phone face down and fixing a neutral expression on my face, I said, “What’s up?”

“Dude, do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?” They said.

“I’m filing invoices,” I said.

“Come on, man, you know what I’m talking about. I know you’re the one leaving Briauna the gifts. Esther’s married, I’m asexual, and Briauna’s not Emily’s type. It has to be you. You’re not that slick.”

I sighed. I knew they’d caught me. “Are you going to tell Briauna?”

“No,” They said. “You are.”

“I can’t,” I said, scrubbing my face with my hands.

“And why not?”

“A lot of reasons,” I replied, reclining in my chair.

“Name one,” They said.

“I’m… weird.”

Kody laughed. “We’re all weird, Jukah.”

“It’s...” You sighed. “I doubt she’d even be into me. I’ve got… a lot of baggage, and not everyone is strong enough or willing to carry it with me. Trust me, I know. Every girlfriend I’ve had has seemed to buckle under the weight.”

“So you’re saying she’s not enough for you?”

“No!” I retorted, sitting up. “I’m saying I’m not enough for her. This place,” I gestured at the walls. “It’s all I’ve got. I’ve got no family, no friends besides my co-workers, no life outside of my work. Hell, I don’t even have my health. I’m a shit excuse for an orc. I mean, I’m too damn shy to ask a girl out. What does that tell you?”

“Maybe she likes shy guys,” Kody argued.

“Orcs aren’t supposed to be shy,” I said with a scowl.

Kody sighed in frustration. “Why are you so obsessed with what orcs are ‘supposed’ to be like?”

“You don’t understand, Kody,” I said with a return sigh. “I grew up in a stronghold, a traditional one. The pressure they put upon us to be the best orc possible was suffocating. I wasn’t the only one who who had to deal with it, but I was the only one who couldn’t live up to the expectation, the only one who didn’t grow up into the orc I should have been, and that has severe repercussions in orc communities. I was my stronghold’s biggest shame. None of my family speaks to me. My clan won’t even acknowledge my existence anymore; I’ve literally been erased from the book of clan lineages.”

“Dude… I do get it,” Kody said. “When I told my family that I was non-binary, asexual, wasn’t planning on having kids, wasn’t a Christian, and had no intention of taking over their business, they fucking lost it. I was their only kid and they had placed all their expectations for the future on me without asking me how I felt about it. They kicked me out, cut off my tuition, wrote me out of their will, refused to see me or take my calls. I went from working on a degree in medicine to living on a park bench. You were the one who gave me a chance. You gave all of us a chance.” They came in and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t really give a shit what other orcs think of you, and you shouldn’t either. You’re worth so much more than they’d want you to believe.”

“Thanks, Kody,” I said. “It’s hard to undo an entire lifetime of being told you’re not enough.”

“I know,” They replied. “But do you really think Briauna is the kind of person who would think that? And if you do, why would you want to be with someone who does?”

“I don’t think she’s like that,” I said. “That’s one of the reasons I like her.”

“Then ask her out.”

I sighed sharply and ducked my head. “What if she says no and things are awkward, and she decides it’s too weird to work here? I’d have to kick out all the new kids we just took in,” I shook my head, resolved “I can’t do that. The kids come first.”

Kody groaned and rolled their eyes. “God, you are insufferable!” They walked to the door and leaned out. “Would you please come in here and put him out of my misery?”

To my complete shock and horror, Briauna walked in with a sheepish smile on her face.

I stared at Kody in disbelief. “Wow… you are… just… so fired.”

“Please, you need me,” They said, backing out of the room. “I’m basically your conscience.”

“You are the exact opposite of that thing.”

They laughed as they made to exit the building. “You kids have fun.”

Briauna stood there with one of the stuffed animals in her hands. “So it was you, then?”

I stood up and raked my hands through my hair. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It was sweet. A little creepy, but mostly sweet.”

I snorted. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy. I just wanted to get your attention.”

“Well, it worked.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a little stuffed bunny, something I hadn’t given her, and held it out to me. “Would this be enough to get your attention?”

I laughed and took it. “Yeah. And… maybe… dinner when you’re free?”

“I’m free now,” She said. “And there’s a curry place I’ve been dying to try since I moved here, but I’ve never had the chance to go.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, grabbing my coat.

“Kody’s right, you know,” She said as I opened the door for her, stepping out into the chilly winter evening. “You shouldn’t care what people think about you. Well, except for me.”

“And what do you think about me?” I asked her.

She put her arm around my waist. “I think you’re really cute. I did the day we met. I was hoping the gift giver was you. And I think shy guys are adorable.” She lay her head on my chest. She was a short little thing. “I’m also hoping you won’t be too shy to kiss me goodnight.

I put my arm around her shoulder in return and lifted her face with my other hand. I kissed her softly and she pressed into it, parting her lips as if asking for more. My tongue reach out to toy with hers, and she moaned into my mouth. I pulled away, licking my lips.

“Dinner first,” I said, smiling.

She snorted. “You might regret that. It is curry.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, leading her down the street.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[mzyrimworld]

Duster Part 16: Quadrum 17

Last time our colonists changed bases again (causing much emotional distress), and the colony still continues to grow and grow. Otherwise going fairly well though, which is suspicious at the best of times...

The fighting away team is just beginning its way back to the colony, having completed a mission in return for some ‘healer mech serum’... It’s already been delivered, but the colonists haven’t decided what should be done with it yet.

The base is being improved, but that doesn’t stop some colonists getting down about its intermediate state. Admittedly I’ve never lived somewhere so shabby, but you’d think they’d appreciate the approvement from all sleeping cramped in one ruined building?

You can never predict the local wildlife down on Duster. I’m glad boomrats haven’t yet found their way to the glitterworlds!

Who would think such relatively small animals could cause so much damage?! Gazelle is downed, and Sky’s managed to let three of them into the store room! They could lose everything in there!

Fortunately, with some quick thinking, Lucya deconstructed a piece of wooden wall, allowing the colonists in to fight the fire without being incinerated in the heat, so it doesn’t look like much has been lost, just damaged.

Poor brave Jethro got right in the face of the boomrats to protect Henry, and suffered a lot of burns according. Hopefully they can all heal cleanly.

Lion took a minor burn, but not enough to warrant another prosthetic...

Gazelle’s biggest problem wasn’t even the burns, as those boomrats really attacked her with tooth and claw...

Zeiph took a couple of burns that should be easily patched up...

Sky looks similar to Gazelle, just not quite so badly battered...

Jay barely even faced the boomrats, but went into the burning store room before the wall was broken open to protect dear Sky from them - you can see the intensity of the burns, even losing a finger to the fire - it’s not surprising he’s got heatstroke.

Jethro’s not the only animal to have suffered either, but the boar gets patched up too.

After helping everyone else, Lucya finally gets to treat her own boomrat wounds, which are fortunately fairly minor.

And then Vas and co return to the base, some still sporting their own (badly patched) wounds from their away fight.

Of course after all that there was blood trails all over the base, but newest colonist Rich (one of the three nocturnal colonists) proves himself useful with the chores so that nobody else goes mad.

Also: Lion and Steroid are ever the loving couple that they have been.

But will Rich remain the newest colonist? A new man crash lands not far from the base...

Rich rescues the man and does his best to patch him up in the still-being-developed hospital room.

Unfortunately(?) the man staggers away from the base as soon as he can walk again, so Rich remains the New Guy.

Oh no! Sky, perhaps moved by Jay’s attempts to protect them from the boomrats and fire, tried to propose, but Jay said no. Alas, now there’s going to need to be another separate bedroom...

The hospital is really beginning to take shape, and Zeiph is working on a replacement for the substandard prosthetic heart Gazelle is currently using.

There’s a caravan request, and the Orange Banastra clearly know the way to our colonists’ hearts, offering a couple of prosthetics (and a uranium plant pot?!) for their effort. There are plenty of spare hands around, I’m sure they’ll work on it.

Speaking of medical matters, it seems it’s been decided that surgeon Julio is going to be the one who benefits from the healer mech serum. Let’s see what happens...

And just like that his frailty is gone! Besides his remaining issue in one shoulder, he’s almost as good as new! Hopefully this will improve his surgery success chances even further.

Especially because that new heart is ready for Gazelle! It’s very tense...

But it’s a success! And they even get the surrogate heart back in storage for emergencies (I hope they sterilise it properly before reuse)!

And then Gazelle is up and about and better than ever! I expect Lion is green with envy and planning how to get her heart damaged without dying so that she can have one too.

Bellerose is not very popular in the colony, but he has managed to make a friend of young husky Tara. I think if I had to live down in this colony, I’d want an attack/guard dog to protect me too...

There are two important issues to note here:

1) A second caravan request, offering three healer mech serums, which would be amazing;

2) While everybody’s been busy working on the base and prosthetics, the colony has almost run out of food (a shame you can’t eat healroot). I think they’re not accustomed to feeding quite so many human and animal mouths...

Most of what food they do have is quickly snatched up by the caravan party (including now speedier Gazelle) to get those prosthetics.

The destination’s a long way south, and even that amount of food’s probably less than ideal for the journey, but hopefully they can make up the difference with forage...

But that’s the end of the quadrum!

Final Stats:

Jethro: Is the bravest boy.

Gazelle: Has a great new heart!

Julio: Now as sprightly as a man half his age!

Sky: Forever alone :(

Jay: Forever alone, but at least by choice. Also had a finger burnt off D:

Everyone: Precariously close to malnutrition and starvation... Let’s hope they can fix that next quadrum and get those healer mech serums!

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Rewards of Losing:  Chapter 2

Yuuri didn’t really enjoy being around other Healers. Too many of them had a tendency to be annoyed because his talents lay strongest with poison plants – and not the plants that could also be used to heal other people. He took a rather deep pleasure in testing how far he could push a Healer’s immunity to plant-based toxins.

As well as an even deeper pleasure at realizing that the plants he crafted and grew himself would listen to him and no one else. Hearing a Healer scream as one of his favorite flytraps chewed remained one of life’s greater pleasures.

But as much as he disliked other Healers, he couldn’t let that show, not here and now. The invasion hadn’t begun. These poor XYZ using fools had no idea of what lay in store for them. He savored that moment. It couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned.

“Yes, I am,” he answered the blond Healer who’d approached him. He’d heard the other give his name but Yuuri didn’t actually care about what other people called themselves. One had to be important to him for their name to matter. Off the top of his head, he remembered the Professor, Dennis Macfield, and Marufuji Ryou. No one else had interested him enough. “But if you want a duel, I can’t provide at the moment.”

He really would have loved to. But as long as he was here, he wasn’t allowed. Not now, at least.

The blond frowned. “Why not?” Oh, this was one of those true duelist types who could sense another duelist. That might make matters a bit iffier. Bu he kept his smile on.

“I don’t have my deck with me,” Yuuri said with a casual wave of one hand. “Or my duel disk.” That was true. He’d left both of those at Marufuji’s place before coming out to search for his wandering Firestarter-to-be. “I also don’t have the time.”

The other Healer tilted his head. “Somewhere to be?”

Was everyone in this world so intrusive? People never asked him questions at home. They were quite pleased to let him do whatever it was he wanted to do without them knowing about it. The less they knew about what he did, the happier everyone was.

“As I said, I’m here to meet with the Firestarter that I’m courting. Perhaps I’ll bring him by here.” Yuuri had considered that before even coming here. It was part of why he’d come in the first place, just to see if it would be worth their time. He still hadn’t made his mind up on that.

Though truth to be told, if he could have dueled, if the Professor's word hadn’t bound him to not doing so, he would have gleefully. He ached to test the skills of these duelists who used such a substandard method of summoning.

He is a Healer, though. Perhaps I’ll find him again later. The Professor wanted as many non-Healer and non-Firestarter duelists carded and those who were Healers and Firestarters brought back as captives for Fusion. Exactly what purpose he had in that Yuuri didn’t know. Nor did he care a great deal. If he were capable of capturing someone, then he would gladly do so.

His lips curved for a second. “Now isn’t a good time,” he acknowledged, “but perhaps this weekend?” He would test this Healer’s strength as a duelist to see if he were worthy of being brought before the Professor.

The other nodded, eyes lighting up at Yuuri’s words. “I’ll meet you here just after lunch. Is that good for you?”

“Of course. I’ll even bring Marufuji.” He would be able to judge the Healer’s strength as both a Firestarter and a duelist. If Yuuri missed anything – highly unlikely – then he wouldn’t.

Yuuri raised one hand in a farewell gesture before he turned and headed away. Marufuji would likely have finished with his tasks of the day and would be on his way back to his apartment, if not there already. Yuuri looked forward to some quality time with the taller duelist.

He could feel the eyes of the other on him as he departed the garden. There was a definite sense of protectiveness that one had over this place. Yuuri wondered what it would be like if he’d approached the Healer’s personal garden. Perhaps he’d get the chance to find out.

It didn’t take him all that long to get to Marufuji’s place. It wasn’t locked against him; Marufuji had installed one of the security systems from Fusion in this place when he’d moved in. Only those recognized by the system could enter now.

His lip curled when he took in the whole place. It wasn’t in a bad neighborhood, but it didn’t have the class or the style of Duel Academia either. It was a building that rented exclusively to Healers and Firestarters as well. Perhaps Marufuji had located others who would also be useful to take back home during his stay here.

Yuuri entered the apartment and made two cups of tea before he settled himself down on the couch. Not nearly as comfortable as the one in his own apartment, of course. He looked forward to spending more time there afterwards.

He glanced towards the door as Marufuji entered. His greeting died on hi lips at the sight of how unnerved Marufuji looked as soon as he registered he was in a safe space.

A part of him remained amused that anyone found a place where he was safe. But he could entertain himself with that thought later.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri wanted to know. He didn’t get up. They weren’t bonded; Marufuji might still lash out in self-defense if something had truly disturbed him that greatly.

Marufuji’s head jerked towards him, tension rising for a few seconds before he started to relax again. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed at once and he rose to his feet. “Don’t try to lie to me.” That wasn’t the basis of a good Healer-Firestarter relationship. If they were bonded, then Marufuji wouldn’t be able to lie to him. He didn’t want the other getting the idea before then, either.

But the other shook his head. “It isn’t wrong.” Slowly he set the case of captured decks and duel disks on the counter and moved to settle down on his chair. Yuuri crossed his arms over his chest.

“Then tell me what happened.” He wasn’t going to let this sort of thing slide. That wasn’t allowed. He edged his tones ever so carefully in that way that Healers had; there wasn’t a Firestarter born that could deny a Healer, bonded or not, when spoken to like that.

Marufuji sighed a very annoyed sigh. “I saw something. I think I hit my head too hard in that last duel because what I saw isn’t possible. Or someone had some sort of Solid Vision hologram going, better than anything I’ve seen before.”

Yuuri moved closer to him. “Explain.”

One blue eye peeked towards him. He could see the annoyance there and didn’t care. He wanted to know what was going on.

“I saw a cat. A large black cat.” He raised one hand to about his waist to indicate the size. “And it spoke to me. Claimed that it was mine or I was its.” He shook his head. “That last duelist did get a couple of good hits in.”

Yuuri frowned. A talking cat? That didn’t seem right, but he had seen a few people out walking with large cats. They wore harnesses and while he didn’t get close enough to talk to people, he could have sworn the humans spoke to them as they would to another human.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said at last. “You’ve done enough for today.” He gestured for Marufuji to join him on the couch. He always hated that his prospective Firestarter was taller tha he was but he enjoyed being able to get him to relax. Marufuji was far too tense.

The other settled down next to him. Yuuri leaned forward to the table in front of them and picked up one of the teacups, offering it to Marufuji. The tired duelist accepted it with a courteous nod. Yuuri took up his own and settled back into place, quite enjoying this quiet time.

He took several sips of his tea and waited until both of them were far more relaxed before he spoke.

“Tomorrow night we’re going to the Night Gardens. I was there earlier and they’re – interesting.” Not as lovely as his gardens, of course, but he had a thought on something that they could do there. It would be very entertaining – by his standards, at least.

Marufuji nodded at that. He’d probably expected something of the sort. Yuuri only ever came here to take him on courting dates, after all. And to update him on whatever it was he might need to know about his mission and the coming invasion.

“Is there any new information?” Marufuji wanted to know. Yuuri shook his head.

“Keep doing what you’ve been doing. Have you noticed any Healers or Firestarters who might be useful for our cause?”

Marufuji didn’t answer right away. Then he slowly shook his head. “Most of them don’t seem as strong as ours are.”

“Choose some anyway. And a few who aren’t – for me to play with.” Yuuri chuckled. He had some very interesting plans for those people, common duelists who existed for no other purpose than to assist in a plan he’d been working on or months. Once the invasion began it would be much easier but until then, what the Professor didn’t know wouldn’t annoy Yuuri.

Yuuri recalled that one Healer duelist that he’d met. “This weekend, I’m also going to have a duel against someone here. I think you’ll enjoy watching me crush them.” He might not be able to card them afterwards – such an annoyance – but he could use all the practice against XYZ users that he could get. And if this one did happen to be of suitable skill, then Yuuri could identify him later for recruitment.

Whether the blond Healer would want to be recruited wasn’t the point, after all.

He sipped more on his tea, enjoying the heat between his hands as much as he enjoyed the heat exuding from Marufuji. That was a Firestarter’s purpose, after all, using their flames to keep a Healer grounded, as much as their garden did.

“I brought you a present,” Yuuri said at last, nodding towards the small box set on an out of the way table. It was within Marufuji’s reach and he pulled it over, curious. That was a much better look on him than being worried about a non-existent talking cat.

Slowly he opened the box and peered inside. A small flytrap raised its head to look up at him – as much as it could look when it had no eyes. But there was awareness there regardless.

“I grew this one myself,” Yuuri said, brushing one finger against the side of the fly-trap's mouth. “Give it a name if you like.”

Marufuji considered it. “It’s beautiful,” he said after a moment. It really was; Yuuri considered it one of his best works. Suitable for the Firestarter he courted, really. This one hadn’t flowered yet, but when it did, Yuuri had worked hard to ensure that the blossom would be as purple as he himself was. Possibly with some pink streaks to it. Not the usual coloring or the breed, but he was a Healer. He could do things like that.

“Let it taste you,” Yuuri advised. “Then it will know who you are and not to hurt you.”

Marufuji tilted his head around to look at Yuuri. “Would it hurt someone else?”

“It will hurt anyone who isn’t me – or you, once it tastes you. Granted, it’s not big enough to eat someone and it probably won’t get that large, but I added something.” Yuuri indicated the whiskers on the stem. “Those are poisonous. Extremely so. They’d probably just make you sick but they could kill someone who isn’t Healer or Firestarter.”

Marufuji nodded before he regraded the gift again. “I’ll keep that in mind. Does it need to be fed?”

“At least twice a week. I bred it to be very hardy. Insects will do. It’s not nearly big enough to eat people – yet.” Yuuri snickered softly. “But with any luck, the time will come.”

This was the offspring of one of his most favored flytraps at home. He went to a lot of effort to create plants that in many ways were like the plants he used in his deck. Not identical; some things not even he could do. But he looked forward to trying new things every chance that he had.

As they got comfortable once again, the plant now seated where they could see it, another thought passed through Yuuri’s mind. Some of those large cats that he’d seen – he’d definitely picked up Healer and Firestarter vibes off of them. He’d mostly ignored it. He’d seen them in areas where there were plenty of people and if these pets spent much time around a Healer or Firestarter, then it could rub off. At least that was what he’d told himself then. But with the mention of that creature that Marufuji had seen, he wasn’t quite so certain.

“Was there anything else about that creature?” Yuuri wanted to know. If it could somehow be trouble, he very much wanted to nip it in the bud.

Marufuji closed his eyes, thinking. “Before I saw it, I thought there was a Healer there,” he said at last. “But it was just the cat.”

“Maybe that doesn’t make a difference,” Yuuri mused. “I’ve seen large cats with people before. Perhaps -”

He could feel the tension seeping back into Marufuji and rested a hand on his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to be mine, not a cat’s, no matter how different it might be.”

He wasn’t at all displeased to see Marufuji agree. He still hadn’t made up his mind on if this was the Firestarter that he wanted but Marufuji had several good points in his favor – such as knowing when to agree with Yuuri and when to shut up.

“Could cats actually be Healers or Firestarters?” Marufuji wondered instead. “Why haven’t we heard about them before?”

“I don’t know.” Yuuri mused over that as well. “We’re meeting that Healer this weekend. We can find out then. Assuming that we haven’t learned anything beforehand. I’ll speak to the Professor when I go back home.”

If anyone would know anything about such an oddity, then the Professor most likely would. Yuuri made himself more comfortable, letting himself sink into Marufuji’s fiery flames, and relaxed into dreams of cards and carding and creating cards – one card in particular.

Ryou knew he needed to rest. He hadn’t eaten yet, however, and he’d neglected to pick up something on his way back. He hated being rattled about anything and the memory of a talking cat that could also be a Healer definitely rattled him. He fought to keep that under control.

Seeing Yuuri, feeling the strength of Yuuri’s Healer gift, and knowing that his flames wrapped so well around Yuuri, all of that made him feel a great deal better. So did seeing the little flytrap as it sat on the table, proud and beautiful. Giving a gift like this, grown from Yuuri’s own favorite flytrap, was one more step along their path to bonding.

Yuuri was the only person that he was allowed to consider bonding to right now. The rules of Academia applied even after graduation – both of them were part of the Professor’s army, after all. Healers and Firestarters needed to be bonded, to keep their sanity intact.

I’ve heard people say that Yuuri doesn’t have a lot of sanity to loose in the first place.

When the fact he and Yuuri would be courting one another had made its way through their fellow graduates, more than one person made a point to pass by Ryou and express their sympathies. Everyone knew that Yuuri grew some of the most monstrous plants in the entire Fusion dimension, even more so than most Healers. Whispers ran riot about what happened to those unbonded who dared to enter his Garden. Some said they knew those who’d never returned.

Ryou saw nothing at all wrong with that. Trespassing in a Healer’s Garden, especially one as powerful and high-ranking as Yuuri, carried a high price. If someone had touched his rocky garden, then he would unleash his own brand of death on them. Granted, his would be far quicker than what Yuuri did. Yuuri liked to hear screams and made no bones about it.

That cat wouldn’t like that. That cat seemed to think there was something wrong with what he was doing now.

It’s wrong. It’s only a cat. What could it now about what’s right or wrong? It probably ate live mice. Or worse, if it were a stray. Strays did that sort of thing, or so Ryou had heard. Truth to tell, now that he thought about it, he’d never seen a stray cat at Academia. There were a few on the mainland, but not on the island.

Something about that seemed off, now that he considered the matter. True, most of the teachers weren’t the type to want a pet that couldn’t devour someone whole and the Professor looked down upon eating the students. But what about other people? Students weren’t allowed pets of any kind. No teachers had any. But the others? The staff? Surely they could have had pets. But none of them did.

And now that he thought about it more, he could remember seeing people who walked around with large cats. He’d thought nothing of it. Merely the fashion here to have a large cat with a harness on, he presumed. Surely some of them were assistance animals. He’d heard of those before. There were even a few Academia students who had such creatures, though never a cat.

But they’d given him that same feeling that the cat he’d seen had. He'd merely paid no mind to it.

Perhaps that hadn’t been the best idea.

To Be Continued

Notes: Everything is domestic and tranquil – for now. The process of shattering that tranquility has already begun.

[awed-frog]

Valkyrie, divorced from her connection to her home and her past, drinking heavily, and played by a woman of colour no less. is VERY reminiscent of First Australian experience and cultural issues; in Aboriginal communities there are huge problems with a disconnection from heritage, from nation, from culture and clan, and part of that is very VERY high levels of alcohol and drug abuse in those communities. Watching Ragnarok, that was... really resonant.

Thank you for this! As a European with only superficial knowledge of Australian and New Zealand history, I hadn’t made that connection at all, and if Taika Waititi was going there, well, I respect that.

Unfortunately, to me that whole scene immediately read as part of this new ‘women can be as gross as they want’ trend we’ve seen unfolding over the past few years, which, personally, I’m not a fan of. I know many people (many women) disagree with me and think it’s liberating to see women picking their noses and talk about vomit, and of course, it’s okay that to see all that as empowering and we all like different things, but I can’t shake the feeling there’s something seriously wrong in the works all the same. So here is my view of this phenomenon, and I’m sorry I can’t link you any sources - I know I didn’t come up with this on my own but I’ve been Googling stuff for half an hour now and I can’t find the references I’m sure are there. So, anyway - here is my substandard summary of this subject.

There are two big problems movie producers are called to solve right now (and I say right now, but today we’re simply at boiling point of something that’s been simmering for a couple of decades): 

women want more on-screen representation and 

men don’t watch movies about female characters. 

There are complex social and historical reasons for both these issues (#capitalism and #patriarchy just to start with), but what’s urgent to the industry is that their audience is split - women are tired to pay tickets for movies which either represent them as sexy bimbos or don’t represent them at all, but men are simply not interested in a story where women also have something to say (or that’s the assumption, anyway). The obvious way out is what we’ve been seeing over the past few years - more female characters, but often represented by a kind of funny, dudebro woman that’s not threatening to male characters or viewers and is also shielded from feminist critique (any attempt at saying that women don’t make jokes about poop and don’t enjoy belching and farting will make you sound like some prim 1950s housewife). In this sense, modern, mass-produced movies are a bit like modern, mass-produced fashion: when you want to maximise profits, you don’t do smart things or new things or daring things - you shoot in the barrel and go with sex, sex jokes, poop, poop jokes, drinking and being an idiot - the most basic features of the human bodies and something that, inevitably, we’re all familiar with. Because the reasoning goes, an academic knows what explosive diarrhea is like, which means he can appreciate scatological humour, but a waiter doesn’t understand how physics work, so he won’t find science-related puns very funny.

(This is exactly why, by the way, Italy decided to dub the first season of The Big Bang Theory editing out many ‘nerd’ references to add more lines about boobs - they thought the show was too clever for the Italian audience, and of course, the goal is to have more people watch your stuff, so there you go.)

And here comes the feminist issue: men are encouraged since childhood to accept their own bodies (good) and therefore find ‘gross’ things funny, while women are not and do not (generally bad). Thus, the fact we all unquestioningly accept that many men on screen have the emotional range of a squeezed lemon and will behave in revolting, rude or unacceptable ways - that’s bad enough, and damaging enough, not only for the relationship between the sexes, but also for men themselves - and especially for young boys who’ll be encouraged to build their personality according to those Hollywood types (the tough guy, the idiot, the clown, the gangsta and so on), but dragging women into this - that doesn’t make it better, on the contrary. Because, well, one might argue that this is what men actually are and movies are simply describing reality, but I always found more truth in the opposite statement - that fiction has its own reasons (and they’re usually cynical ones) to behave like it does, and also has a powerful impact on how we understand ourselves and the people around us.  

So, you know - this is why I’m generally wary of female characters sinking down to that level, and you could say there are political reasons for hyping up vulgarity in movies, and that they’re the same reasons behind the sabotage of our education system, and you wouldn’t be wrong, but I think that it’s much easier to see this as yet another aberration of capitalism - first and foremost, it’s about making money. In this sense, we suddenly get women being stupid on screen for the same reason we get remakes and endless franchises: it’s a cowardly choice designed to keep sales up, and never mind the damages it does.

So, again - maybe that was not the reasoning behind our introduction to Valkyrie, but still - her grief and her depression and her lack of purpose could have been conveyed in a different way, and they weren’t, and that was a deliberate choice.

[thesswrites]

Leading the Blind

Carrying on from the first part of my gift to @true0neutral, another story of the Hearthhearts of Goldendale, with a difference. We meet Lira Sweetwater, halfling cleric of Pelor, at the start of her own journey into the mercenary life.

A battlefield outside Pallav; Temeni (the Southern Lands)

Alone behind enemy lines, Lira reflected, was a bad place to be. Particularly with her target yelling at her through the communication earring Jennandrel had made for them. “Lira what by Tritherion’s bleeding piles are you doing? I thought I told you people to leave me!”

Lira rolled her eyes, slipping between bits of ruined building and trusting her substandard halfling height to make up for the target beacon that was her bright red hair. “We don’t do that, Goban. And you know it.”

Grumbled swearing in dwarven was the only reply. It was part of the motto of the Quickflight Diminutives, Twylla Quickflight’s mercenary band. ‘In fast, out faster, leave no man behind’. It worked well, and given the makeup of the company, it was the only way it could. They were the Diminituves because that was what they were - diminutive. Four halflings, a dozen or so dwarves, six gnomes, and a surprisingly useful fairy dragon that Lira had liberated from a local noble’s household and now followed her around like a faithful hound, they were the smallest mercenary band in Belarys ... but they were one of the best for insertions like this.

Goban was their demolitionist, one of the few dwarves in their group who wasn’t a straight-up fighter. He’d snuck into the cultist camp on the outskirts of Pallav with a few of his more localised bits of boom, intending to cause enough chaos to flush the cultists out of their tight battle formation and allow the skirmishers of the Diminutives to pick them off. This was a job for more than twenty-odd tiny people, but Lira didn’t consider the odds, any more than she considered the odds of surviving a solo extraction when one of her friends got trapped behind enemy lines.

These cultists called themselves the Eaters of Suns. Lira’s god was a god of the sun. While she herself was a pacifist by inclination, she would do whatever was necessary to stop these cultists in their tracks.

When she finally reached Goban, she reached for the symbol of Pelor around her neck with one hand and for the fallen dwarf with the broken leg with the other; she had a hand on his shoulder and had started to heal him before her knees had touched the ground beside him. Goban shook his head. “You’re a brave girl, Little Lira. Damn fool, mind, but a brave girl.”

Lira looked at him, eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Damn fool, hmm? How is saving our only demolitionist a foolish thing to do?”

Goban glared at her, meeting her eyes with some desperation. “I’m their only demolitionist, but since Ellain left, you’re our only healer, girl. Do you not smell trap on this? Agh,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Of course you don’t and I shouldn’t expect it. You’re a fledgling to the ways of war, and--”

Fledgling she might be, but at the word ‘trap’, she touched her amulet again, this time seeking out evil. The force of it almost knocked her over, and without a moment’s hesitation, she took his flints from him and slapped the small coin Twylla had given her into Goban’s hand. Speaking the activation word, she opened a Dimension Door to get him out of harm’s way, cutting off his cheated curse mid-epithet. She hadn’t finished healing him yet, and she had no idea how well he’d be able to walk. She, on the other hand, could still run. So thinking, she found the fuse that Goban had spent many patient hours explaining and lit it with a hasty flick of tinder on slate, waiting for a spear to find her back with every second she wasted. Then, still miraculously unstabbed, she stood to face the oncoming enemy.

All that evil coming from a single man was disconcerting, to say the least. Although ‘man’ might have been stretching the point. The cultists they had been fighting had looked somehow wrong - the term Lira used was ‘soul-sick’. This one, however, looked soul-dead, and she pitied him even as she grabbed her dropped quarterstaff and drove him back, as much to get herself under cover before Goban’s black powder exploded as to keep him from finding and snuffing the fuse.

She was only barely in time; shards of broken rock skated harmlessly across her displacer cloak as she pinned the soul-dead cultist to a sandstone wall, somehow praying she could reach him. Pelor, let me help just one of them, she thought, pressing him into the wall with her quarterstaff mashing his elbows into the crumbling wall she’d found to back him against. She felt Pelor’s regretful smile even as she tried: “...Do you still have a name?”

The cultist responded by opening his mouth and spitting a mouthful of something green and foul-smelling directly into her eyes. She had a merciful moment of thinking that he had just vomited in her face (she was a healer, she worked with mercenaries, she’d had worse with every session of drinking, never mind war) ... and then the stinging in her eyes became a nearly insupportable burn and her eyelids refused to work ... possibly because they no longer existed.

While it was far too little and far too late, Lira turned her face away from the acid-spitting abomination that had once been a human man ... but she still refused to let him away from the wall. She had little enough strength left, more of it being sapped away all the time by the acid eating into her face, but there was one chance. She knew Twylla Quickflight, her immediate superior. While the plan to send Lira behind enemy lines to save Goban had originated with their commander, Lira knew that Twylla Quickflight left nothing to chance ... if only because her lover believed in preparedness to the point of triple-redundancy. Which was why, instead of an incoherent scream, Lira centred herself enough to put her cry of agony into a single word: “Rand!”

Lira’s ears were very good. She heard the quick flight of two arrows fly above her head, and the sound of impact indicated that Rand Hearthheart had chosen the path of poetic justice by putting out the eyes of the creature that had taken Lira’s.

It was about all that Lira could process before the pain overwhelmed her and she lost consciousness.

Only half-conscious, some unknown time later, Lira caught a few words from her commander. Not many, but enough to terrify her. Those words were “...back to the temple”.

Lira didn’t want to go back. She couldn’t. This cult was trying to kill suns, and one of those suns was her god. More, her time so far behind enemy lines had shown her what became of those who followed this sun-eating horror. No one deserved to have their soul destroyed that way, to walk on with darkness corroding their soul the way the acid had corroded--

Oh.

It was dark, and she was conscious, and while she could feel bandages over her eyes, she’d had cloth over her eyes before and still had some sense that she could see. Now she didn’t even have the sense of that. The pain had faded, but there was a sunken feeling where her eyes should be. Where her eyes no longer were.

The price of overconfidence.

All Lira could do was pray. Pelor, she thought, and would have closed her eyes if she could have. Pelor, if that is to be the last thing I ever see, please let me continue to help fight it. I ... I don’t ask for my eyes back. That is the mark of a lesson well-learned. Just ... please. I want to help. I want to stop them. I want my people to be spared the fate of the man who took my eyes. Let me heal them. Let me protect them. Let me help them. Let me do Your work in Your name, and keep them well.

She heard a chuckle - something huge and powerful and kind, indulgent as a beloved uncle - and felt the benevolence of a sun-god’s smile, and warm but otherworldly lips upon her forehead. Then, there was a word, and the presence of Pelor receded. Never gone - Pelor was never far from His chosen - but back in His proper place in the material.

Gods seldom intervened, by rules set down long ago - rules that Pelor and Nerull and Tritherion had all agreed upon to allow mortals to be free. But those who dedicated their lives to their gods could ask. There were dispensations, if a mortal like that asked. Knowing that Pelor had found her request worthy of granting, Lira sat up, murmuring the word she’d heard in her delirium. “...Truesight?”

“You need to be lying down,” said Rand Hearthheart. Lira had known for a long time that Twylla’s lover ‘Rand’ was actually a woman named Miranda, having healed her of enough wounds to see her without that much in the way of clothing. But now, to Lira’s lack of eyes, it was all the more obvious. The illusion spell that had at one point kept Lira’s notice away from certain anatomical features didn’t function as it should, because Lira didn’t see it at all; she sensed Miranda Hearthheart as sort of a polished stiletto blade of a woman, polished and versatile and hidden until needed.

Then a quicksilver presence that Lira identified as Twylla pushed forward. “Well, she can do that in a moment, but first I want to know what you mean by ‘Truesight’. Because I heard you say ‘Truesight’, Lira my girl, and honestly, that’s not the sort of thing I expect to hear from someone who had acid spit eat their eyes.”

Lira shook her head. “I ... asked Pelor ... to let me still help you. I ... said I didn’t want or need my eyes back. That the lesson learned was too important to lose, but ... you were talking about sending me back--”

Rand huffed out a little chuckle. “That was Goban,” ‘he’ said with a grin. “The guilt’s eating. He doesn’t really understand the whole thing where clerics put their trust in the gods. He’s less ‘praise the lords’ and more ‘pass the ammunition’.”

All Twylla could do at that point was shake her head. “Well, I’ll tell you this much, Lira-lass; you’re not going anywhere just now. And I don’t just mean because you’re injured, because whatever Pelor did to you, it at least healed the acid burns to scars, which will have to do, I suppose. Listen,” she went on, and Lira could feel the commander grinning, “even if you hadn’t had a bit of divine intervention, we’d have just kept you in the medical tent. We don’t have enough healing to spare. But a healer with Truesight? We’re not passing that up. We’ll train you up in blind-fighting and get you back in the field.”

After a silent moment in which Lira would have cried had her tear ducts not been obliterated, she simply said, “Thank you”. Everyone in the room knew that she wasn’t talking to them.