#just got the all clear from the home inspector

[d1scow1ng]

Holy shit we own a house now

[insight-chronicles]

Chapter 5 - Is this the end?

Word Count: 3.2 Content Warning: Swearing Summary: Is everything you’ve worked so hard to conceal about to come to light? Plus a little bonus Jinwoo POV

Authors Note: Thought I would try something, I added a little bit of Jinwoo POV at the end of this chapter, let me know what you think and if that’s something you want me to continue try to add sporadically as it makes sense.

AO3

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Dodging all the questions and making sure you weren’t followed was harder then you had expected so it had taken you longer to get home then you’d wanted. After finally locking your front door you collapsed onto the bed still in your hunters gear, you’d worry about the blood stains on your bedding tomorrow. You slept hard that night, so deep was your sleep, in fact, that you’d completely ignored your alarm this morning. Jolting awake at a car horn just outside your window you looked over at the clock on your nightstand. Shit, was that really the time!? Some quick mental arithmetic said if you rushed and skipped breakfast you should still be able to make it to work in time, you always set your alarm nice and early so you had a nice leisurely time to wake up and get ready, you hated nothing more than being rushed.

You’d made it, slightly dishevelled and stomach rubbing, but you made it. Luckily you had a slow day and you planned on just catching up on some paperwork so you could spare a few minutes to got to the breakroom to get a cup of caffeine and a pastry to tide you over until you could get some lunch.

As you found out that day, there was no such thing as enough caffeine to make a report bearable when all you wanted to do was go back to bed. Thankfully the report was not urgent so it didn’t matter that you had been yawning at your screen all morning and making no progress whatsoever. Although all those trips to the breakroom for more caffeine had meant you had overheard some rumours that set you on edge.

There was a knock on your office door, not that you heard it having mastered the art of falling asleep with your eyes open that morning. You didn’t even notice the cause of the knock entering the room and clearing their throat in front of your desk. In fact it wasn’t until they leant over the desk and tapped the back of your hand where it lay on your mouse, that you noticed the intruder. You startled from your half sleeping state to see Chief Inspector Woo straightening up.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to startle you, I did try knocking but you were so engrossed in your work you didn’t notice.” There was a hint of admiration in his tone, you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment at the undeserved praise. Usually when Jinchul visited you there was a cheerful, friendliness to his tone that was missing today, replaced with a hardness that suggested he was here on official business not a personal call.

“Oh, um, sorry. Was just, yeah, concentrating.” His sudden appearance and seriousness was making you stumble over your words, “What can I do for you Chief Inspector?” You tried to match his formalness but it felt odd on your tongue. Taking your eyes off him you save the document and make sure to close down the application before returning your gaze to him, giving  him your full attention. Whatever this was about you were sure you would be leaving this office, you just hoped that it wasn’t about the rumours circulating, it would be just your luck at the moment that the party you’d worked with last night couldn’t keep a secret for even 24 hours.

“You're needed for a meeting with the Chairman.” Jinchul straightened his tie, his straight to the point no nonsense approach to this conversation had your hackles raising.

“Can I ask what the meeting is about?” Whilst there was legitimate reasons that you would need to see the Chairman you could not see why the summoning would need to be so formal.

“That’s confidential I’m afraid. The topic cannot be discussed outside of Chairman Go’s office.” You felt yourself visibly, and probably audibly, gulp. It was never a good sign when officials got cryptic.

“Right, well, I’ll be up as soon as I am finished with this piece of work.” You gesture to the blank screen in front of you, silently cursing yourself for already having closed everything down.

“Your presence is required immediately.”

“Right now?” Jinchul nods. Well then, guess I don’t have a choice. You take a deep breath nodding your head slowly as you make a show of turning off your computer. Standing you wipe your sweaty palms down the fronts of your trousers, both drying your hands and smoothing out the creases that had formed from being at your desk all day.

Rounding your desk you follow Jincul out of the room, pausing to shut and lock the door behind you. Jinchul says nothing as he leads you to the elevator, stepping inside you lean against the back wall while he stands to attention near the centre.

Your upwards journey is paused at the lobby where the doors open to admit 2 more passengers into the cramped space. Baek Yoonho and Choi Jongin. Both smile at you as they walk in but the smiles quickly drop from their faces as they take in the worried expression on yours. Whilst you had not had many personal interactions with Jongin he had been to your office enough to scout new hunters and discuss the possibility of poaching others from rival guilds. He had insisted almost from the first meeting that you call him Jongin, even now it felt weird. Yoonho on the other hand has been even more attentive and protective of you since your disaster of a date. Great, stuck in a cramped space with 3 guys with egos the size of Mars and all protective of little old me, this is exactly what I needed today. Not.

“Hey, Y/N, are you alright?” Yoonho skirts around Jinchul, shooting daggers at him with his eyes as he does, he comes to a stop in front of you. You nod in response but you don’t trust yourself to speak. Whatever he saw in your eyes put him on edge, he reached up to grip your shoulders almost harshly. Before he could speak, Jongin's voice cut through.

“What’s going on here?” The question was directed at the Chief Inspector but Jongin was looking at you.

“Just heading up for a meeting with Chairman Go.” Jinchul replies nonchalantly, shrugging.

“Then why does she look like she's about to walk in front of a firing squad?” Jongin gestures at you, his fiery gaze cutting to Jinchul. Looking over his shoulder at you Jinchul is surprised by what he sees.

“I have no idea.” Turning his whole body to face you, a wave of confusion and concern clouds all other emotions. All three of these men feeling the same thing in such a confined space is making it hard to block out. “Y/N, what's the matter? You’ve met with Go many times, why are you so worried?” You shake your head and shrug, dislodging Yoonho's hands from where they still rest on your shoulders.

“I don’t know.” Your voice is weak.”This just feels different. You came into my office all serious and have barely said a word to me, being all cryptic and shit. Only telling me we can’t talk about it outside Go;s office and that it needed to happen right now. What am I supposed to think?” The words come out fast and garbled together, you're surprised they understand you.

“Go just wants to discuss the progress of your assignment, that's all.” Jinchul tried to comfort you but his efforts were thwarted by Yoonho and Jongins reaction to the news.

“What assignment?” Jongin was curious as to what the Chairman could be getting as an office worker or do that required classified updates.

What have you gotten her into?” Yoonho was just plain mad. You knew Jinchul would have to choose his next words carefully or risk Yoonho’s tiger coming to the surface. “Wait, has this got something to do with why you were upset leaving Go’s office the other week?” You can feel Yoonhos power emanating from him, you nod slowly hoping you don’t cause him to tip past the point of control.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. Whilst I am aware of the assignment I cannot discuss it. Although I can tell you it is perfectly safe and should pose no risk to Y/N health.” Jinchul held his hands up almost in surrender. Yoonho relaxed slightly, the glow of his eyes dimming but you could tell from the tension in his muscles he was still ready for a fight.

“We’re coming with you.” You weren’t expecting that to come from Jongin, Yoonho sure, that was exactly the sort of thing he thought he could get away with as a S-Rank Hunter and Guild Master. But Jongin always seemed so cool and calculated but this came across as more of a rash move on his part, one that could potentially land him on the bad side of the Chairman.

“I can’t allow that.” Jinchul knew he couldn’t make the two S-Ranks do anything but he hoped if he reminded them of the rules they would fall in line.

“You don’t have to allow it.”

“We are going with her.” Yoonho cut in, an unspoken threat in his voice. Jinchul’s eyes met yours with a look you couldn’t decipher, it was more than just concern.

The four of you entered Chairman Go’s office. Jinchul leads the way, you following just behind with Yoonho and Jongin flanking you like bodyguards. Chairman Go looks up from the file in his hands, surprised by the number of people suddenly in his office.

“My apologies, sir, but when we met in the elevator they insisted on coming.” Jinchul bowed his head.

“Right,” Chairman Go started, “Do they - “ He trailed off, communicating the rest of his sentence with his eyes.

“No, sir”

Clearing his throat, Go straightened some papers on his desk. You felt a wave of unease from him. The Chairman was always such a confident man, it made you wonder how he thought the men flanking you would react to the news he was obviously about to share with them.

“As it seems that you two have latched yourselves onto Miss L/N, I suppose it can’t do much harm to let you know what her assignment is.” His voice is calm and authoritative, much more like the Chairman Go everybody knows and looks up to. “After all you would be partial to the information she gathers eventually anyway.”

“What information?” Jongin steps forward so he now stands between you and the Chairman's desk. Yoonho rests his hand on your lower back as if to remind you he’s there for you if you need him. Go’s eyes lock on to the movement before meeting yours with a raised, questioning eyebrow. You returned his question with a subtle shake of your head.

“Before I tell you anything I need you to understand that it is the role of the Hunters Association to gather information on all hunters.” The men nod, murmuring their understanding, “I have given Y/N here the task of getting close to Hunter Sung so we can find out more about his power. Of course, both of your statements regarding the raid on Jeju Island were invaluable,as were all the statements. But it is my belief there is still more to Sungs power then we know. It is my belief that he is one of, if not the, strongest hunter to grace South Korean soil, if not the world. And he just seems to keep getting stronger. We need to know more” Chairman Go rests his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers, waiting for their response. Jongin stands frozen. You feel Yoonho’s fingers dig into your lower back, your sure it would hurt a human so you fake a flinch.

“You’re using an analyst as a spy?” Yoonho’s voice is low and dangerous.

“She is in no danger.”

“You don’t know that! You just said yourself that you don't know what Sung is capable of!” Yoonho releases you and storms forward, slamming his fists onto the desk, threatening to split it in two.

“Sung could be the biggest threat this country has ever seen! And you think sending someone from the archives is the best way to get information from him?” Jongin snaps out of his daze, just as mad as Yoonho. Flames dance along his shoulders just waiting to be released and he struggles to keep his power in check.

“I can’t believe this. What was the plan if Sung found out what you were up to and took his anger out on her?”

“Shut up.” You could let them yell at each other all day about the morals of using you for this assignment but you could not stand them dragging Jinwoo's name through the mud like that. They were still yelling. “I said SHUT UP!” you matched their level. This time they felt quiet turning to you as if they forgot you were even in the room. “Stop talking about me like I'm not in the room. Stop implying the only way this can end is with me getting hurt. Stop assuming I’m some damsel that needs saving or protecting. And most of all stop saying Jinwoo is going to hurt me. I know him. He may not remember me, but I know him and he would never, and I mean never hurt me!” You stand there chest heaving when suddenly the reality of what you just revealed hits you.

You bolt from the room.

Panting you skid to a halt at your front door. What have you done? Have you just ruined everything? The perfectly constructed narrative you've worked so hard for over the last few years, is it all gone? Fumbling you insert the key into the door. You would bet you had around an hour before someone shows up at your door.

There was no getting out of this. There was no possible explanation you could give as to why you knew Jinwoo that wouldn’t reveal things you didn't want people to know. You collapsed onto the sofa, you’d fucked everything up.

There was a knock on the door. You looked at your watch, yep right on time. Pulling yourself up from the sofa you walk over to open the door. Turning and walking over to the kitchen you let the door swing open. Jongin stands on the other side of the threshold unsure if he's allowed into your apartment or not. Suddenly he jerks forward as Yoonho storms through the door, furious eyes searching for you before finding you casually making yourself a drink.

“Drink?” you tilt your glass towards them.

“No, we don;t want a bloody drink. We want an explanation!” Yoonho stalks across the room before being halted by a hand on his shoulder.

“ What our hot-headed friend here meant to say was. Are you okay? What happened bak there? We're worried about you.” Jongins voice softened as he spoke to you. You felt suspiciously like he was talking to a scared cornered animal, one he wasn;t sure if it was going to run from him or fight.

“You know, you two spend an awful lot of time together and are very touchy feely for two people that are supposed to be rivals.” You try to lighten the mood and take the spotlight off yourself. At your words Jongin takes his hand off Yoonho's shoulder like it burned him. If you looked close enough your sure you could see the tell tale sign of red in Jongin cheeks as well,

“Don't go changing the subject.” You should have known it was not going to be that easy.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” you shrug

“Why don’t you start from the beginning. How do you know Hunter Sung?” Now you really were starting to feel like a cornered animal.

“That's not my story to tell, at least not mine alone.”

“But you said he doesn't remember you?” The anger is gone from Yoonhos voice, now the only thing to feel from him is sympathy.

“That's right. I don't know how and I don't know why. What I do know is that I am a firm believer of not starting a story I can't finish. Which means this is not a tale I can tell. Not yet anyway.

As Jinwoo watched his shadows fight the beasts he couldn’t help but be distracted. Thoughts of that mysterious woman plagued his mind. He couldn’t help but run over every memory he had trying to find her. To explain why she thinks they have met before. But nothing. He knew for certain he had not met her since becoming a player, which meant he must have met her when he was still known as the World's Weakest Hunter. But then what could he have possibly done to make her hate him, how could he have hurt her like that?

She was beautiful, funny and, to his surprise, powerful. Not quite as powerful as him but she could definitely give the other S-Ranks a run for their money. Who was she? She must be a hunter with power like that so why was she not at the raid of Jeju Island?

He had hoped to get some answers out of her at their last meeting but Jinwoo had been called away to deal with a gate that had opened and was causing chaos. The gate was in the upper levels of what would be considered A-Rank and all the other S-Ranks and their parties were either already busy or were too far away. Jinwoo had reluctantly left the cafe, assignment and shadow to his new obsession in the hopes of being able to catch her at her apartment later that day. Only the gate had turned red as soon as he stepped inside. At least he was still able to keep an eye on her through his connection with the shadow soldier, plus Beru would be able to protect her if needed. It was a risk assigning one of his strongest soldiers to keep an eye on her, but Jinwoo felt it was definitely worth it to keep her safe. The army would make do without one of its generals. Shortly after stepping through the gate he’d lost contact with Beru, Jinwoo tried not to panic, there was nothing he could do about it but he may have used excessive force on a few beasts. Besides Beru had not respawned with him so he hadn’t been killed. Jinwoo just couldn’t communicate with him. Where had the little minx gone that severed his connection to the shadows?

It had taken some time but soon the connection had been restored only for Jinwoo to see his girl fast asleep on the top of her bed, spread eagle in what appeared to be hunters gear. Jinwoo demanded answers from Beru, if bugs could look smug, that was the face Beru was giving Jinwoo. Beru refused to answer, knowing that Jinwoo would not call him away from his charge in order to punish him. Beru had decided that Jinwoo needed to find out what the minx was capable of by himself. Jinwoo wished he sent Igris instead.

Jinwoo had been in the red gate for a few days now, a constant feeling of melancholy washing over him from his connection to his girl. It had started on the first day, after some intense feelings of fear and then anger. She’d been sad ever since. Jinwoo really wanted to defeat this gate so he could go to her.

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@weaponxgames

@tanspostsblog

@bubera974

@nightmarewasteland

@o-qi-shisme

[motherofdogs1010]

Siren II (Dark!Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: A new singer has come to Small Heath and has unfortunately enraptured the soul of a big-time, Birmingham gangster...

Warnings: 18+ only, eventual NONCON/DUBCON smut, forced marriage, dark!Tommy, obsessed!Tommy, singer!reader, eventual pinv sex, eventual pregnancy, dark shit will be happening

A/N: Song used: Say Yes to Heaven- Lana Del Ray

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Series Masterlist

Her eyes widened a little at the sudden appearance of a man in a suit standing in the doorway. He was only a little taller than her, maybe by a inch or so with a dark-colored pageboy's cap on his head as a cigarette hung from his lips; she could see the sides of his head were shaved very tight against his scalp but his cap hid his eyes so she couldn't see them.

But she could feel his eyes still and it made her feel on-guard as she cleared her throat.

"Hello", she responded back, "can I help you?"

"Forgive me", the man said, pulling the cigarette from his lips. "I'm Thomas Shelby, owner."

"I thought Harry was the owner", she said, confused.

"I bought him out recently", Thomas stated, Y/N still eyed him cautiously.

The man screamed danger and she felt a little uneasy under his blue gaze as he smirked at her apprehension.

"I just wanted to let you know that you gave quite the performance. You have quite the voice."

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby", she responded before clearing her throat. "It's time for me to go."

She could still feel his gaze on her as she hurried out of the Garrison, even in the current safety of her home, it was like she could still feel his deviled gaze on her body.

🍾

A few days had passed since the meeting with Mr. Shelby and it seemed like wherever she turned, she'd find a man with a peaked hat following her. Always a different man trailing enough behind her that she was sure they were supposed to remain hidden, but her eyes always caught them.

She figured it was best to pretend they weren't there, a sinking feeling telling her that if she acknowledged them, things wouldn't turn out well for her. So she took many turns and circled the same route. It made no sense to throw them off so they wouldn't find her way back to her apartment.

Today, she was at another pub that she sang at, known as The Drunken Griffin. It was larger than the Garrison with a proper stage where they had a band play for its singers and she was hoping this would help as she stood at the microphone. She had to make sure she didn't get too close since the microphones were so sensitive as she heard the melody the band began to play.

If you dance, I'll dance And if you don't, I'll dance anyway Give peace a chance Let the fear you have fall away

Tommy sat in the hidden back of the pub, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as a cold whiskey sat in front of him. She was dressed in black again, her hair framing her as she sang to the watching crowd.

I've got my eye on you I've got my eye on you

His mind felt quiet as the troubling thoughts of Kimber, that new Inspector Campbell and the stresses of Ada running off with Freddie Thorne began to melt away.

Say yes to Heaven Say yes to me Say yes to Heaven Say yes to me

Tommy had been having her followed for the past week, but the little minx seemed to have caught on to that.

If you dance, I'll dance I'll put my red dress on, get it on And if you fight, I'll fight It doesn't matter now, it's all gone

It was only a matter of time now...

I've got my eye on you I've got my eye on you, mm I've got my eye on you I've got my eye on you

He definitely had his eye on her...

[ghostybaby000]

Never Yours | Part 4

Part 1

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: He had seen blood hundreds of times before, but never from you. He didn't know what to expect while listening to your cry's on the phone praying you wouldn't loose consciousness.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+, violent theme, weaponry use, blood, symptoms of panic.

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies! My internet is also down for now, so posts may not be consistent)

You adjust yourself to be seated more upright, again clearing your throat. Letting go of Simons hand for a moment you rub the tiredness from your eyes and take in several deep breaths. Replacing your hand and Simons in your lap, you begin.

‘I was trying to get things ready for dinner. Setting the table, cleaning the countertops, finishing the dishes. Someone knocked on the door so I set my dish down in the sink and made my way to the door to check the peephole. He was in uniform, some company uniform it…It looked so real.’ Your voices begins to fade out as the lump in your throat became harder to swallow. You shake your head to clear the thoughts, knowing that Simon would need to know the information at some point nonetheless. You take a long breath and squeeze his hand as you push on. 

‘I opened the door a crack and he said that he was a home inspector of some kind when I’d asked. I remember he was knowledgeable of the company and what it was about, not that I’m remembering much now. I told him…I tried to tell him that he could come back another time and that we were busy. That’s when I knew something was off.’ Another pause that allowed you to take in more air your lungs suddenly needed desperately, Simons eyes giving the strength to continue. 

‘He was so much taller, bigger than I was- I didn’t want to be alone with him, and my gut agreed. He insisted that he would check some part of the house as an annual inspection and he tried to open the door more…I-I pushed as hard as I could to shut it, and I almost had it. Everything moved so fast after that. I knew he wasn’t true to his title and that I was in danger, so I tried again to close the door with all my strength but It wasn’t enough…’ Simons hand drew you out of your mind as he thumbed over the top side of your hand. His jaw was set firm and his knee had entirely stopped bouncing. He nodded to you letting you know to continue although you knew that if you didn’t want to, he would never make you.

‘He had pushed hard to get inside against my efforts, so when he tried to do a much bigger push I let the weight of the door go and he came barreling inside. He didn’t fall but took a moment to turn and close the door, I heard him lock it. I tried to run as fast as I could, I just felt so panicked it’s like my legs were jelly. I made it to the stairs where I got up before him and to the bedroom, and I noticed he wasn’t running after me- like he knew I wouldn’t get away by running…’ Again the thoughts in your mind became a storm as you wiped a falling tear, trying to steady your breathing. Your voice went on slow, taking time to recall the events as best your mind would allow you to. 

‘I grabbed my phone off the bed and went into the bathroom as quietly as I could, I had your number dialed when he kicked in the door and grabbed me around my neck.’ Your hand reached up to touch the tender spot where bruises had formed. ‘He hit me across the face and I fell backwards, and then he hit me again when I made my way to the ground. From here it gets fuzzy, I know I passed out and I’m not sure for how long. All I knew is that when I woke up I heard him rummaging through the house, and then his steps. He bounded up the stairs again for the bathroom and he saw that I was conscious. His figure is blurry when I think of it, but he was tall and had dark hair.’ You were straining your mind to try and recall what the man had looked like, your head began to ache so instead you pressed on. 

‘The next thing I knew I…I saw him over me and felt a horrible burning followed by a wetness that wasn’t like water, it was warmer. He ran from the room and then the house, fleeing the scene. I couldn’t sit up and felt really dizzy, and then the pain set in. I’d never felt pain like that, so sudden and unending…. I saw my phone and made a reach for it but I just couldn’t get it in my hands. I could barely click call for your number…The next thing I know I’m here with you in the hospital.’ Simon was deep in his thoughts, a tear stain running down his left cheek. 

He takes a deep inhale that sounds stammered as you touch his arm and speak out to him. ‘I’m here, and safe now.’ Simons gaze doesn’t meet yours, his face only growing more stern- he was angry. You pull your hand from him to turn his face towards yours.

‘Simon. I’m here. I’m here looking at you and listening to you. You saved me, you are the reason I am alive.’ Your eyes darted between Simons as he looked into yours although they didn’t light up in the way they typically would if you had said something of a similar manner, his mind was elsewhere. He tugged a grin across his face and then his husky voice met your ears. 

‘I am the reason…’ His voice fell short in his throat before he could continue. He tore his eyes from yours to look at the floor and then back to you. He took a short breath and started again in a better tone, although you knew he wasn’t saying what he wanted. 

‘You need to rest my dove, it’s going to be the best thing for your recovery and that’s whats important.’ He stood just slightly to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. You knew that arguing his thoughts would be no use and decided he was right, within minutes you had fallen asleep.  

Once your eyes began to dart underneath your eyelids, he knew that you were in a deep enough sleep that you wouldn’t stir if he had left. Simon rose to his feet and made his way out of the room silently, closing the door behind him. He didn’t like leaving you at all, but his anger for the man that harmed you outweighed the need to stay. 

He rings Price as he gets to the parking garage where he moved the car after the doctors had taken you. The ring goes on for a moment, before he hears him on the other end.

‘What have you got for me?’ Simons voice is lower, a scary calm that would send chills down anyone’s spine. Price took a long breath on the other side before responding to Simon, he could hear him leave a group of other people for privacy. 

‘I’ve managed to find who we think it is, and we might have a location I told you I would call when I found him.’ Prices voice rings with leadership and power, he wants to keep Simon from loosing his head all the while bringing justice to you who was harmed. 

‘Where is he?’ Simon starts the car and begins to make his way out of the lot. Price sighs, a mutual agreement that Simon would be relentless in getting to the man no matter the odds. 

‘I’ve already got men headed to the location Simon, and I’ll tell you when we’ve got him’ 

‘I want him myself.’ Simons voice is stern, and Price understands his determination more than he lets on. The team he’s sent should already be there by now, so there was no harm in allowing Simon to go, there would be others there to step in if things got out of control.

*ding* Simon takes a moment to pull the phone from his ear and see the text from Price, the location. 

‘Thank you.’ Simon hangs up the phone before Price can respond, the sound of the car filling his ears as he made his way around a turn headed the right direction. 

When he pulled into the abandoned apartment duplex, he found 2 more vehicles parked outside and recognized them as part of his own team. He saw their flashlights in the windows as they were searching the first story of the building, they hadn’t found him yet. 

Simon parked a good distance away and walked around towards the backside of the building and rounded a corner, coming face to face with the back side of a truck. The same truck the cameras showed from the neighbor’s home, he was definitely here. He made his way further behind the building, the only thing outside being dumpsters and broken glass scattered around it. He paused upon hearing a screeching door somewhere on the other side of the building behind him. 

*BANG*  

*BANG*

Shots rang out from behind Simon as he spun around he saw a man lying face down to the ground groaning. He ran to the man who had been shot and heard his comrades radio that they had gotten him, and didn’t go any closer seeing Simon approach the man. Simon watched as blood slowly leaked from the man’s lower half thanks to the bullet hole through his lower abdomen. A glare caught his eye as he looked over the man, a jagged knife had fallen from his hands and was now out of reach. Simon was over the man now staring at him, he couldn’t hear his thoughts or the mans protests through the anger as he rolled him over to face him.

 He held the man into a sitting position with one fist bunched around his clothing as he began to ruthlessly beat him with his other free hand. He thought to your face and swollen neck, the IV drips coming from your body, he saw the mans face was contorted and his nose began to bleed aggressively. He thought to the bandages and wounds that should have never touched your body, as he heard a crack somewhere in his hand. The man took a hold of Simons arm that was holding him up, trying to wrench himself free. He thought to your voice calling out for him over the phone as you groaned out in pain, and the fear that followed your voice and landed a punch square to the mans face. His hands that had been trying to rip him from Simon now fell limply to his side, he was unconscious.

Simon dropped him from where he was just as others had reached him to stop him from doing any more damage. He said nothing to the others as he walked back to his car, leaving the mangled man on the ground, and made his way back to you. 

He pulled into the lot, adrenaline still pulsing though him as he parked the car and made his way up to your room. He took no spare time in getting back to your side, pushing open the room door to see you were still asleep. He settled into his chair as he reached out again for your hand. He felt his own hand twinge in pain as he looked down to see one of his fingers was heavily inflamed and slightly twisted, another inflamed but still straight. He huffed to himself taking a breath as he settled into the chair, he would worry of his own injuries once you were awake. 

A few hours went on as nurses came and went, one staying to take vitals and waking you in the process. You sat up to see Simon in the chair next to you, this time asleep. He always looked so calm like this, something that made you feel all the more safe when with him. It was dark in the room and the nurse quickly made her way out as you laid back down and allowed yourself to rest as well. 

Morning came as the doctor strode in, Simon already awake and watching a silent show on the TV. His chair was facing the same direction, his hands interwound in his lap. 

‘Good morning everyone, I see you stayed the night Simon.’ Simon looked to him and gave a nod as he turned his chair to face you and what the doctor would say next. 

The doctor went over test results and assured that you were recovering well, despite it taking longer than you had hoped. He left you with a prescription for medication and let you know it would be another day of tests before you could leave. Simon looked to you and smiled, a true smile now knowing that you were making progress towards being better. He let his hand come up to meet yours as the doctor began to leave the room. 

‘You’re in an awfully bright mood this morning.’ You smile to Simon as you place your hand over his you feel him tense. He looks to you and blinks slowly, as he talks to you with the morning gruff in his voice you never wanted to lose. 

‘Only when I get to see you.’ Your smile begins to fall as you look down towards Simons hand and find the knuckles to be bruised, one of them split. You gasp as you retract your hand from his and look to his face, which had become more serious now. 

‘Simon…What did you do to yourself? It look so inflamed…’ Your voice trailed as you gently grabbed his hand and held it in clear view, he had definitely broken at least two fingers. His head fell as he stared at the blankets, and it all clicked. He went after the man, that horrible monster. You thought to yourself that it wasn’t at all necessary for him to go after him himself but understood that he felt far to much unnecessary guilt and that was how he knew to fix it. 

Not that you would ever approve of Simon being irrationally violent, you felt a weight you didn’t know you had become lifted off your shoulders knowing he had been delt with. He wasn’t proud of how he handled the situation, his head lowered in obviousness, but you knew that he needed to avenge your pains and that it could have been far worse.

‘Thank you, Simon.’ He looked up to you quickly, expecting a lecture of some kind on being unreasonable or not letting someone else handle it. He didn’t respond but instead took his good hand and interlocked it with yours and slowly closed his eyes, rubbing over your small hand taking a deep breath. He let out his breath as he smiled to you half opening his eyes. You then called for the nurse although Simon initially protested, one look from you and he had been silenced. The nurse came in to see his hand and let the doctor know to make his way in to decide what to do next.  

The doctor came into the room and assessed him hand carefully. To your surprise he didn’t ask Simon any questions but instead simply took him to get an X-Ray. About an hour later with a wrap around his hand, Simon made his way back into the room, plopping into his chair beside you. 

The rest of the day you both sat quietly, resting as the daylight streamed in through the windows and enjoyed a show together. You watched him as you looked from the TV, he was relaxed. Sitting in the chair with his feet on the other chair across from him, he was holding your hand from the side, his eyes watching the screen.

You knew that he would do just about anything and everything for you, and for that reason alone you knew to call him.

[xserpx]

morse for the ask game?

How I feel about this character?

(Caveating this with the fact I haven't yet watched Inspector Morse, so this is only about Endeavour.)

Normally I'm not at all a fan of whump and I don't like feeling sad for well-meaning characters who are hurt repeatedly through (mostly) no fault of their own, but I really love Morse's brand of melancholia. The way he struggles to deal with change is too damn real, I'm a sucker for characters who struggle to voice their feelings and whose anxiety causes them to say nothing, because bitch me too. I also like that he's shy but it's kind of a selective shyness? Like if you catch him at the right moment or say a certain thing, he can be very snappish and outspoken and even funny, but then in those (incredibly important!) moments where he feels truly vulnerable, he just clams up, and it's heartbreaking and delicious to watch.

It's also undeniable that he is a massive prick sometimes. His treatment of women, his pretentiousness, there are moments when I want to slap him upside the head and I'm like you deserve this shit buddy! Monica my beloved, she deserved so much better from him. As much as he craves deeper connections with people and as much as I really want him to find a place to belong and settle down, it's so clear why he can't, why he shouldn't, and it's so deep rooted that in a way if he actually made a more concerted to change and do better he'd pretty much be a different person. And I like that the show never compromises on providing answers or catharsis for his struggles. Change happens, that's life, and there's often no way to deal with it that doesn't hurt.

I also love his dark academia style and the way it's grounded in finding meaning/belonging. It's not that it doesn't give him a sense of superiority at times, but like... that was his rebellion in the face of anti-intellectualism and abuse at home, and in a way I feel like he's earned the right to that pretentiousness. I think it dilutes some of the intimidating effect that opera and classics and poetry can have - some people listen to the Beatles, he listens to Wagner, one thing isn't "better" than another - but without binning it off entirely so that we still get to enjoy the commentary on classism. Plus watching him school the Oxford dons is always fun :P.

All the people I ship romantically with this character?

Romantically, hmm... The trouble is I end up feeling sorry for either Morse himself or whatever woman he's got his eye on at the time!

I love Joan and Morse, and I'd love for them to work things out, but the more time passes the less and less suited they seem to be. It's one of those relationships that's more about yearning than it is about getting together. They struggle to communicate and they're constantly miserable. He puts her on a pedestal because of her family, and Joan likes him because he's an enigma, and they can't move past that. But at the same time, fanfic exists for a reason, and I still love the yearning despite it all.

I'm not sure if I ship it romantically per se, but Max is another one where I feel like they could be more than friends, they're very Sherlock and Watson (and this fic by gaytobymeres is so good I love it). That scene with Morse and Max having tea in Max's garden is one of my favourites in the series, and I want that life for Morse so badly! Literalllyyy at the end of Exeunt I was like dude just move in with Max!! He'll never leave Oxford! He'll come along to your choral recitals! You have way more interests in common than any of your girlfriends have thus far! And he's lonely too, bless him ;w;.

My non-romantic OTP for this character?

I don't think there's a single character I don't ship Morse with platonically?? All I want in the world is a pub quiz fic featuring all of Cowley CID (and Trewlove) but I'm not clever or patient enough to write it. I wish we had more teamwork episodes tbh, and I think that's the best thing about seasons 5 & 6 (as dissipated as CID is at the start, that just makes them coming back together all the more heartwarming).

Morse & Thursday are of course the freaking bedrock of the show, they're just insanely good and I genuinely want them to be together forever. As much as he misses Joan at the end, I really want a happy ending where Thursday and Morse can stay together. At the same time, what with the whole men in the 60s reinforcing one another's emotional repression, I kind of wonder what would've happened if Thursday had been able to steer Morse in a different direction, and if it would have had a knock-on effect with helping Morse express his feelings for Joan and maybe end up somewhere better. But their characters are so intertwined it's hard to separate out the what-ifs. I do think Thursday had more of an impact on Morse than Morse did on Thursday, but you could maybe chalk that up to age. Leopards don't change their spots, etc. Still... lamenting lost potential is what grief is.

I'm also a huge fan of Morse & Trewlove tbh, he's so relaxed around her?? He tells her stuff he never tells anyone else?? They fake marry?? Ridiculously sweet. They share the trait of being incredibly dedicated and detailed in their work, and it bleeds over into a genuine appreciation for one another that they don't really have with any of their other colleagues (save for maybe Trewlove & Bright, another fantastic platonic OTP in my book). I also can see them being friends w bennies but I def don't ship them romantically.

My unpopular opinion about this character?

Not sure if I have one tbh. I haven't been here long but I generally think the wider fandom has it right about most things. Maybe not including Jakes as some brand of OTP? I feel bad because I love Peter, I just don't see him and Morse being particular friends any more than Morse and Jim are tbh.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Um, happiness. Just, all the happiness. I wish he could communicate better. I wish he'd had a better childhood. I wish his house hadn't been burgled and that he could still listen to Rosalind Calloway without taking emotional damage. I wish he hadn't been beaten down and that he could feel secure and safe, and have a fulfilled life outside of work. Great tragedies always keep the happy ending in sight, and Endeavour does that incredibly, painfully, well.

If I had to choose something specific to have happened in the show, I guess I would have liked to see more of Joyce. I'm fascinated by their relationship and I really loved every cameo from Morse's past that we saw, plus episodes like Cartouche with cousin Carol. Tbf I have heard that Joyce shows up more in Inspector Morse, so... 👀

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine trying to warn Sherlock that Moriarty is free…

The verdict was in - not guilty. You honestly wanted to shake the jury by their shoulders and ask why they had left their rational thoughts at home. The judge slammed the gavel, signalling for Moriarty to be free of his bonds and when you looked at the man, you could have sworn that he winked.

John nudged your arm, reminding you that it was time to follow the rest of the courtroom out. Once the pair of you were out on the street in much cleaner air, John pulled out his phone and began punching in a number.

“I’m calling Sherlock. He needs to know that this maniac is going to be walking about like a free man.”

Giving him a nod, you pulled out your own device. “I’m going to head back to Scotland Yard.”

John instantly pulled his phone away from his ear as it started to ring.

“What? Y/n we need to stay together.”

“I know but I need to set up a protective detail on Sherlock and Baker Street. Moriarty doesn’t care about collateral damage.” You reminded the good doctor.

Pointing at you, John’s expression was stern and serious. “Okay but be careful. I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

You gave the man a brief hug before turning and bolting down the street to hail a cab. Thankfully, the area was crawling with the vehicle you required. Once you had hopped in, you dialled Lestrade’s personal number and hoped with each ring that he wasn’t otherwise engaged. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the traffic felt slower than normal and the phone wasn’t being picked up as if the matter wasn’t of import.

“Come on.” You edged nervously, staring outside at the pedestrians huddled on the sidewalk.

When the signal turned green, the call was answered by the man you had been trying to reach. “Greg? Oh, thank god.”

“Y/n, I just heard the news. How are you holding up?” The detective inspector asked.

“Honestly I’m pissed but we can get into that later. Listen, I need a favour. I need a-“

“You need a protection detail on Sherlock, I know.” Lestrade guessed correctly. “I filed in the paperwork as soon as Moriarty’s trial started and got it fast tracked. It felt appropriate since you, Sherlock and John have thwart his schemes the most.”

You frowned. Something didn’t feel right about the way he was talking about the detail. “And?” You prompted.

“And it got rejected as soon as Moriarty was acquitted.”

You were mad and disappointed - in all honesty, you wanted to scream. But you pushed it all down and did what you could to tackle the problem. Leaning forward, you tapped the driver on the glass to get his attention.

“Yes, dear?” The elderly man smiled.

“Change of plans - take me to 221B Baker Street please.”

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Shit, you almost forgot Lestrade was on the phone.

As the car turned left onto Baker Street, you kept a tight grip on the device. “If Scotland Yard won’t help, I’ll do it myself.” You told your friend before hanging up just as the taxi pulled up to the curb.

Paying for the ride, you made a mad dash to the front door, pushing it open to get inside. It was mostly quiet. Mrs Hudson was running the cafe and it was clear that John wasn’t home from the lack of his coat from the hallway rack.

There was an absence of people and yet you heard teacups being set upon saucers and very low voices speaking. Heart leaping into your throat, you raced up the stairs and burst into the open flat of 221B.

“Sherlock-”

The rest of your sentence died on your tongue, ice running through your veins when you saw the man who had almost killed you and your friends without any remorse standing in the living room.

“Hi Y/n.” Moriarty greet when his eyes laid on you. “I take it that your little bid for a protection detail fell flat?”

He knew and he was mocking you for it. Stepping into the flat, you scowled at the enemy. “I’ve kept my friends safe from you before. I can do it again.”

Moriarty smirked. He moved away from Sherlock and across to you on his way to the door. His eyes skimmed over your features before he inhaled.

“You’re just delectable. Ready to give your life for a man who isn’t ready to return the favour. A pity really.” He commented and walked off.

~ More imagines here ~

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 6: Accomplice

All confidence and security I’ve accumulated is depleted. The Shelbys have helped keep me safe from the unpredictable world outside, and as the cop pushes me through the ash-filled streets I’m reminded of just how vulnerable I really am. Yet I still keep my head held high and mask my fear with stern eyes. I’m led to what must be the police station and down the hall to a small waiting room with a single desk. The cop shuts the door, closing off what little light there is. 

“I demand to know what’s going on!” I shout at the door. “I will not be imprisoned without official charges! If there is no official complaint then I shall inform the authorities in America!”

“No need for that, Ms. Steenstra,” a familiar voice speaks from the shadows. Campbell steps forward smoking a pipe and I see he’s holding a file.

I tighten my jaw and refrain from yelling again. My state of mind is much more fierce compared to our last encounter. “Hello again, Inspector Campbell.”

He slides the file onto the desk and sits down. “Last time I saw you, you were trying to get home. Scared of Small Heath and all its glory.” He points a finger at me. “I told you to stay away from the Peaky Blinders. Now I’m told you’re working for them.”

Keep calm, Steenstra. Remember what Polly told you.

“I’m a tutor, nothing more,” I say firmly. “I know nothing about their real business so if that’s why you brought me here then you’re wasting your time.” I turn away and face the door.

“If you’re interested, we could set you up for an inside job,” Campbell offers.

Did I hear that right? “You mean… spy? On the Shelbys?” I ask.

“Yes. And if there is any odd behavior then you can report it to me.”

Thomas was right. This man is out to get the entire Shelby family. I can’t be an asset to his cause. Not only because of my feelings for the Shelbys, but also for the loyalty of my employment.

I turn around and stare the inspector straight in the eye. “Maybe it’s done differently in England, but in America we are loyal to our employers. The answer is no, Inspector.”

The man takes a puff on his pipe. “What if certain arrangements were made? You still wish to return to your country, yes?”

The thought of going home is a spark of hope in my chest. But I can’t cave into this.

“Correct.”

Campbell shrugs. “Well, if you decide to join our cause we could arrange for a plane ticket, as well as better lodgings here for you.”

Just as I thought. “If you’re trying to bribe me, it won’t work. I’m sorry Inspector, but I cannot be bought.”

I grab the door knob and find it’s unlocked, no doubt because they don’t see me as a threat. Yet. Just as I start walking back to the front door I hear Campbell call out:

“Be careful, miss. Never know when the wolf will step out of its sheep's clothing.”

But in this scenario, who’s the wolf? I have no desire to be connected to this intricate web of lies and deception. I am in good relations with both the law and the Shelbys, and want to keep it that way.

I make haste to get back to the Shelby house. All previous angry thoughts are long gone and I don’t care if Thomas is still mad at me. Once I close the door I take a deep breath and take in the familiar kitchen. Calm down, you kept quiet. Just stay here and ride out the storm until you can go home.

My invisible mask falters and my eyes start to tear up. In a quick panic I grab a damp cold cloth and head to the living room to sit on the small couch. God, how did I get caught into this? All because I was an idiot and got myself lost!

“Ah, you’re back.”

No. No. Of all the Shelbys to walk in, why does it have to be him?

“Hello, Thomas.” I keep my head lowered and hastily try to block away more tears. “I’d like to apologize again for earlier. My mind hasn’t been very clear these past few days.”

Fate must have a sick sense of humor because Thomas decides to sit next to me. His weight pushes the cushions down further and has me leaning slightly towards him.

“Nobody apologizes to me unless they’ve done something else against me,” Thomas speaks in a dangerously calm voice. “What did you do after you left?”

Fighting my screaming nerves I lift my head up to face his cold eyes. “I was headed to the chapel when one of Campbell’s officers temporarily apprehended me. I was brought to Campbell’s office, where he questioned me.”

Thomas’ eyes flash. “He what?” Thomas grabs my neck, drags me over and pins me against the wall to shout in my face. “Well? What did you tell him? What did you say?!”

I try to choke out a response. “I- I didn’t say anything, Thomas!”

“Why? We never bought you over!” He releases my throat and I gasp for air. “We don’t own you-”

“You don’t have to, Thomas!” I seethe. “I didn’t say anything because A, I honestly don’t know much about the guns. And B, it would be betraying you.”

Thomas doesn’t budge but his eyes soften a fraction. Why must every encounter with him end so violently and not as romantic? I- No. Don’t flatter yourself, Steenstra. There are far more important issues at the moment!

“Really?” Thomas’ voice is calmer, yet still suspicious.

I take a deep breath and put both hands on his chest. “You may not think you’ve bought me, but I still owe a debt to the Shelby family. You took me in. You gave me a job and a roof over my head. If that’s not buying me over, I don’t know what else there is.”

Slowly, Thomas’ hands snake up to grab mine. His breathing has calmed down. He must believe me.

“No one’s this nice, Ms. Steenstra,” he whispers. “You’re not like any other person I’ve met. If you really are this loyal it would be a shame to see you go home.”

I sigh in relief. “So I’m not fired?”

He chuckles. “You always fret about being fired.”

“It’s my first job,” I reply sheepishly. “I’d hate to lose it in such a short time. Plus I really don’t want being fired by the Shelby family to be on my short résumé.”

“You’re fired?!”

We both look over to where Finn is standing, having just entered from the hallway. He’s holding another one of my books, no doubt having finished it already.

“No, Finn. She’s not fired.” Thomas gives me a smirk. “I don’t think she’ll be leaving for quite a while.”

My face falls. “Are you saying you’re going to keep me here against my will, Mr. Shelby?”

He quirks a brow. “You said you owe a debt to us, yes? How’d you like to have your Birmingham experience lengthened?”

I frown. “Meaning…?”

“That you are to stick around until you’ve earned a ticket home and we feel you’ve worked off your debt,” Thomas replies coolly and leans in closer. “Deal?”

A week ago I would have declined on the spot, but the few days I’ve spent here have snatched my interest. Maybe a while longer in Birmingham wouldn’t be so bad?

I smile. “Deal. My only request is that I’m escorted around town in order to not be snagged by Campbell again.”

Thomas tips his hat. “Your wish shall be granted, Verena Nora Steenstra. Welcome to being an accomplice to the Peaky Blinders.”

Accomplice. The word brings a whole new meaning to my job. I’m no longer a simple tutor. I’m part of something much bigger now. It scares me a little, but it’s also rather exciting.

“Yes!” Finn celebrates. “Can we do another lesson now?”

Aw, Hell. I can’t say no to this! My family’s not perfect and neither am I. I was always going to do something drastic someday, and if this is it then I’d love nothing more!

Thomas walks off to the kitchen and leaves me with his brother. You are one peculiar individual, Thomas Shelby.

I smile. “Yes, Finn. Let’s get started!”

[emmypoo]

Tokyo Debunker

The Tsukumogami Case

Inter-house Squad: Yuri, Taiga, Ren, and Edward.

Inspector: Stevie (WARNING : SASSY OC)

Case Details:

The mailman, Suzuki Minato, visits a cottage in a rural area around Tokyo, the Okutama district, notices that the woman's mail has piled up from weeks ago. He goes to investigate and finds the owner of the estate dead in her bed. The victim is named Kobayashi Akemi, 87 years old. Cause of death, blood loss from a slit throat. Left side of neck has small slit. Zero physical evidence. Anomalous cause suspected. Tools in the house are found mysteriously in different spots than originally left.

...

When Professor whats-his-face first informed me of the concept of inter-house teams, I thought it was a fantastic idea. Imagine all of the most capable and tolerable people teaming up to capture anomalies and restore peace to the Tokyo area. Brilliant right? With adept, composed, and competent ghouls on my side, we could capture the maximum amount of anomalies and hopefully break my curse. However, the groups always end up as the worst possible combination of people. Although I wasn't exactly opposed to special team assigned, I wasn't exactly thrilled either. Disaster was on the horizon, and I could smell it from days away. I mean me, Yuri, Taiga, Ren, and Edward? Who would have ever seen that coming? And of course I had no say, like usual.

We had barely even boarded the Galaxy Express before everyone had started to fight.

Yuri complained, hand dramatically on his forehead. "For what reason would they need the great doctor to go on a peasant mission? Hopefully, I can collect specimens to bring back and make this not a total waste of my time."

"Do you need help getting that stick out of your ass?" Taiga mocked him.

"Excuse me?!"

Patience wearing thin, I firmly reminded them "We are on official business. None of us want to be here. So stop it, you two."

Seriously like oil and vinegar.

Ren only sighed in his seat and pulled his headphones over his ears, playing on his phone. Edward peeked over his shoulder, watching him play the game he was always on.

"Vampire dude, you're like invading my space.."

"My apologies, I am very intrigued by this piece of media you are playing. Care to share it with me, on Wickchat?"

"No." Ren shuffled a few seats away, and not picking up on social cues, Edward followed him.

None of us wanted to be there. I was just surprised Darkwick got everybody to cooperate.

...

The scene of the incident was a quaint cottage in the middle of actually nowhere. Smoke billowed from the expertly masoned chimney. Vines snaked up the side of the cracked cobblestone, peeking their heads through the gaps that had been eroded by precipitation during the centuries it's been occupied. The home was shrouded in a cloud of greenery, enveloped by the blanket of flowers and bushes. Leaves and branches gently caressed the exterior of the cottage, as if greeting a lover.

After hours of investigating the area and Yuri performing an autopsy the body, we learned nothing and had zero leads. Because we had spent so much time exploring, the Galaxy Express was out of service and we had to sleep on the floor of the cottage in an empty room.

Despite the many complaints, we all got settled and fell asleep.

...

I awoke to the feeling of a light touch on my eyelid, and quickly opened my eyes to see a mirage of floating tools and equipment. Was I still dreaming? I rubbed my eyes with the hopes of clearing this fantastical sight from reality, but when I took another look, the objects were still there. Taking a look to my left, I noticed that the others were fast asleep, unaware of the circus happening above them.

Upon reaching for my glasses, my eyes landed on the place of my palm where I had previously rubbed my eyelids. Why is there pink and black on there?

With my newly regained sight I realized what was truly happening. A paintbrush swiftly etched a design onto Yuri's pale face, strokes from some invisible force had finished adding a handlebar mustache above his upper lip. Peacefully he continued to sleep, and it took all my willpower to stifle the giggle creeping up my throat. He would F R E A K out once he realized. Beside him, Ren was experiencing his fair share of shenanigans. A pair of scissors aligned with his signature bangs and promptly snipped in an oblique motion. The results reminded me of a less classy Zenji, but apparently the scissors did not think it had caused enough damage because it proceeded to destroy his bangs. A razor snuck up behind his head and with one strike cut a streak in Ren's left eyebrow. With another slash it had eliminated the half closest to his eyes on his right eyebrow. I could absolutley not wait for his screams of agony.

The sight prompted me to desperately reach up and feel my hair for any imperfections, thankfully, I found none.

At this point, there was no containing the pressure building in my diaphragm and I let out choked laughter. The only other sound in the room beside my snickers and the equipment doing their work, was Taiga's droning open-mouthed snoring. He actually sounded like a horn signaling war. It had been going on ALL NIGHT. This mouth-breathing only gave the objects more opportunity to mess with him. A sharpie had already completely covered half of his teeth, creating the illusion that he had none. What made it even funnier was that his crimson hair had been pulled back into a delicate ponytail.

Everyone looked ridiculous, myself included, and I was afraid to find out what else had happened to me. Taking off my glasses, I peered at my reflection in the lenses. I had been painted to look like a cat, whiskers, pink nose, freckles, and all. My shoulders sunk, phew, these creatures took mercy on me. With a little bit more scrutiny, I thought that it was actually pretty cute.

Through miserable failed attempts to hide my laughter, I recorded the shit show. A video I would come to treasure, and also the only evidence as to what had truly happened.

A glance to the right showed that the one person that seemed unaffected was Edward, laying still, but unchanged.

With one final swipe of pink ink on Yuri's head, the paintbrush did a gesture that reminded me of a wink, and promptly vanished. All the other equipment followed suit, leaving me astonished. If it wasn't for the evidence left on each person, I would have believed that it had all been a dream. The final inhabited object remaining was a feather on top of Yuri. It flew down to his bare feet and began to tickle the plantar area. It did not take long for Yuri to rise in a huff of fury.

"WHO DARE WAKE UP THE GENIUS AND VISIONARY DOCTOR YURI ISAMI?!!" He roared, looking around the room, finally locking eyes with me. His glare sent shivers down my spine, and I prepared myself for the onslaught of the cranky captain. It never came. Cautiously, I peeked at Yuri, and was met with an incredulous stare. Ah, I forgot. The paint on my face.

"What have you done to your face, worm?! Did you forget that we're on a mission?" My initial apprehension faded as I glanced at his paint mustache. No way could I take him seriously with such a silly thing on his face. The way his nostrils flared and eyebrows furrowed only made me laugh harder.

"Dude, shut the fuck up. I'm trying to sleep..." Unsurprisingly, Yuri's screams had woken up everyone else. Even more unsurprisingly, Taiga had something to say about it.

Without even looking over, Yuri snided him. "It's about time your lazy ass woke up. With such inactivity it's a wonder that you haven't exceeded the BMI scale."

"Fuck off."

Ren flipped over on his futon, slamming the pillow over his head. He groaned from underneath, "UGHH...Seriously, guys. You're just as bad as that clown. Go back to sleep."

I had grown used to the animosity with this group, so their quarrels did not bother me.

Taiga leaned over and whispered in my ear, "who's that dumbass? I swear I have never seen that twink before." Even though he had asked this a million times since starting the mission, I patiently explained that Ren was the new first-year Jabberwock ghoul.

"You have literally done nothing on this mission, what could you possibly be tired from? Being a dead weight? Absolute vermin?" Yuri sneered as he disdainfully glanced at his green-haired coworker.

"I'm exhausted from your inferiority complex, doctor." Ren's muffled voice lingered over the last word for an unnatural amount of time to emphasize his point.

Yuri crossed his arms and opened his mouth for a comeback, but was interrupted by roaring laughter from Taiga beside him.

"What are you laughing at, you Sinostra germ?!"

"BAHAHAHAHAH, YOUR FACE!"

He followed Taiga's gaze with his hand and wiped at his lip. The brown of the paint stained his hand. His faced heated up as he looked back at Sinostra's captain. "Y-YOU...!!"

The commotion drew Ren from his hiding place, eyes squinted to adjust to the light. They widened once he saw Yuri, and for the first time ever, I witnessed a genuine smile from him. "Oh, this is too good." Without a moments hesitation, he pulled out his phone and began recording. The sight of him so clueless, made me cackle.

Yuri took a huge breath in and rushed over to see the damage to his face. He wrestled Ren's phone from his hand, eliciting an irritated outburst from the other man, "Hey..! Stop!"

His panic completely blinded him to the very obvious catastrophe of Ren's hair and Taiga's missing teeth. After flipping the camera around, Yuri howled at the masterpiece created by those creatures. Not only was there a mustache, but the final touches included the word ~ VIRGIN ~ in bold pink letters on his forehead. He was truly gagged. I could practically see the steam spouting from his ears. I rolled around on the floor, still recording.

Taiga looked at my face and raised one eyebrow, "I guess you're really are a kitty-cat. Give me a meow, won't you?"

"Ew," Ren chided still trying to get his phone back.

I had totally forgot about what had happened to him. "Ren! Look at your hair!" I yelled at him, eagerly awaiting his response. He snatched his phone back from the doctor and glanced at his reflection.

"What?! NO!" Ren reached a trembling hand up to the place his hair had once been. "How did this happen?! I knew I shouldn't have come on this mission..."

With a closer look at his face, his haircut looked familiar, "Yo, who invited Captain Spock on the mission?"

Yuri snorted in response to my joke and Taiga only hollered louder. His ponytail bounced as he commented between gasps, "Aha....a queer Captain Spock.....with the....eyebrow slit...!!"

Ren stared at his new look, frozen in shock. Unable to even defend himself.

Taiga's open-mouthed cackle revealed the art on his teeth. Yuri's eyes loitered on his mouth before smugly snickering, "those are big words coming from the guy who had his teeth stolen."

Reacting quickly, I showed him the picture of his sleeping face. He felt along his teeth with his tongue and pointed out that it was colored.

"I hope that whatever it is is toxic, and you die." Yuri's eyes burned with pure hatred towards the red-haired man.

"Let's just hope that it's not permanent or everyone will know that you're a fucking virgin." Taiga condescended, "not that we needed a sign on your forehead to know that."

Taiga continued to howl at the situation, on his knees from the humor of it all. He gasped for air, breath stolen by his laughter. I leaned against him heaving, trying to steady myself amongst the chaos. Ren sat crouched in the corner, whimpering about his hair.

In a fit of rage, Yuri charged at the other man, tackling him down and sending me flying the other way. "Dude, what the hell?! Get the fuck offa' me!"

"We're going to test out your hypothesis by using your white shirt to wipe off my visage!" Yuri yelled while aggressively nuzzling into Taiga's chest and dodging the other man's swats.

"Come on you two, get a room.." I chuckled at the scene unfolding before me. They both glared at me, and Yuri got up from Taiga's lap.

"Clearly, it comes off." The doctor pointed at the pink and brown stains on his shirt, mocking the other. "Let's hope that it comes out of your shirt. Otherwise you will have to buy a replacement."

Ren suddenly stood up, annoyance gracing his face. "Instead of fighting over each other's comments, we should find out who did this. When I find out, it's over...."

Yuri paused, and agreed. He followed Ren's steely gaze towards Taiga's laughing form.

"Woah woah woah," Taiga held up his hands in surrender, "this wasn't me, dumbass. Why would I paint my own teeth?"

"Whatever, I guess you're off the hook," Yuri reluctantly sighed, "And you? Are you going to say it wasn't you because you were painted too?"

I shook my head, "Nope. If it was me, I would be proudly bragging about my work."

"Well, there was only us five in this room, and if it's not me, Ren, Taiga, or Stevie, then it must be....." Everyone looked at Ed, unharmed. Quickly everyone swarmed him, surrounded his sleeping body.

Ren pointed out, "he's the only one without something on his face! It must be him."

"Obviously," Yuri retorted annoyed at his need to point out the obvious.

"Whatever man."

While they argued I noticed Ed's hands curled around something. Inside his palm was a wooden cross. "Guys.... does something seem off about him??"

"Literally everything. He's a fucking vampire." Ren crossed his arms sarcastically.

"I mean more than his normal off-ness, dipshit."

After observing the body, Yuri noted aloud, "he seems paler than usual. His body temperature is also lower than his regular levels."

Suddenly, I remembered the incident at the Takamine mansion, when the cross on the building had severely weakened Ed. "Oh my god...! That cross, it's super effective against him because he is a vampire!"

"Is he dead...?!!" Ren screeched.

The panic in our voices prompted Yuri to remove the cross on his chest. Without warning, Edward startled awake with an explosive cough. He did not talk for a while after that, even with Yuri's incessant nagging.

"If the cross kept him incapacitated, then who did it?"

"Not who, it's what. And I know what did it and, ultimately, have solved our mission." I ended the recording to show them the footage.

Yuri's teal eyes bore into mine as he spoke, "You saw all of this, and you still didn't try to stop this calamity?!"

I only shrugged in response, and began my explanation of the case. "These guys are not anomalies, just spirits. Have you ever heard of tsukumogami spirits? They inhabit inanimate objects that haven't been used in a long time."

"Of course the one mission with spirits is the one that Haku isn't here for."

Taiga chimed in. "Nagi? Let me ring that fucker."

As he did so, I explained further. "You know how Ms. Kobayashi's throat was slit on the left side, but like only a little bit? I think the spirit inhabiting the scissors intended to cut her hair, like it did to Ren's, but accidentally missed and cut her, causing her to bleed to death."

"I suppose that would make sense, considering that those things seem to only be active while people are sleeping." Yuri thought aloud.

It was not long before Haku arrived at the scene, ready to work his magic. He helped save us, but not after dying laughing at everyone's predicament. "If only everyone had gotten as lucky as Stevie. The cat face paint is super cute on you."

Ed had not spoken since he was freed from the effects of the cross until the ride back to the academy. He pointed at the doctor. "Isami, what is that curious symbol on your neck?"

"What do you mean by that? Don't even think about drinking my blood, you freak."

I saw it too. "No, Yuri, he's right. There's something there."

Haku, the person closest to him, took a closer look and chuckled once he realized what it was. In response to our confused faces he explained, "someone drew a penis on your neck with marker."

Red climbed up Yuri's cheeks all the way to his ears. "Those wretched spirits.... drawing a vulgar image on the great Doctor Yuri Isami.."

"No." Taiga spoke loudly. "That wasn't them. It was me. I drew that on you before you fell asleep because you were being so fucking annoying."

"WHAT?!"

Ed hummed quietly to himself and whispered, "I had no clue that you swung that way, Isami. I must research deeper into same-sex relationships. I want to know how they work."

This only flustered Yuri more, and he remained silent the rest of the trip home.

To fill the silence Haku asked about the pesky tsukumogami. "There's something that I'm still curious about. Why was Edward unaffected? And how did a cross get in his hands?"

"I have a theory that they sensed his strange energy and combatted it with a cross." I answered bluntly. "If I were a spirit and I came across Ed, I'd try to kill him too."

Ren smirked in response, and gave me a fist bump.

"Your sarcasm wounds me." But he smiled, knowing that I was only joking.

...

As we got off of the express, Edward had a sputtering fit. Once he recovered he asked, "Stevie, could you carry this weak old man home? That cross deeply weakened me to my core."

Ren scoffed at the vampire, "is there ever a moment that you aren't a creep?"

"I am simply seeking help from a person I consider a friend. There is no creeping occurring here. Besides, Kusinagi a few moments earlier called Stevie cute, is that not creeping?"

Ren only rolled his eyes, as I answered Ed's question. "There's is literally no way that I could carry you all the way to Obscuary." I slid my phone out of my pocket, "I'll call mommy Rui to help you home."

"Excellent, though I would more consider him my wife."

"Okaaaaaayy....." Ren whispered from his seat behind them.

Aside from the regular stares from people because they were ghouls, we received a ton of weird looks as we returned to campus. Yuri hid deep in Haku's school robe that he stole and Ren did the same with his hoodie. Taiga did not give a single fuck about his teeth or ponytail and would threaten anybody who looked a little too long at them.

This mission would be the talk of the school for a long time. Especially because I showed the video to almost anybody who was willing to watch it. Hehe.

Yuri told me recently that both me and the video are "cancer that just keeps coming back." I know he loves me, though.

[shyday-ao3]

1000 scribbled words to nowhere, a Ripper Street mini sickfic offered up as brief distraction from the events of rl. apparently this is what i'm doing for novella november. hopefully someone enjoys it.

Jackson's not in the best mood when he gets to the crime scene, having been rousted rather rudely from his bed. Another body, the uniform had said, refusing any further detail. The kid was green in more than just experience, but he'd gotten his point across and stood firm behind it. The American was summoned. To decline an unacceptable option.

He greets Reid and Drake without really looking their way, not bothering to temper his annoyance. There's a headache lurking behind his eyes, the result of too much gin and not enough sleep. His focus is only on the body and how quickly he can get out of here. He crouches beside the dead man, already pretty damn sure of the cause of death. Drake wanders off into the adjoining room.

Reid clears his throat. "Strangulation, then? As with the others?"

"Yeah, and you didn't need me here to tell you that."

"Perhaps not. But, as you are here, I wonder if you might not do your job and see if he has anything new to share with us."

Jackson prickles under the tone. "Sure, Reid. Simple as that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I need to get him to the deadroom where I can do a proper autopsy. Meaning I could've just as easily met you at the station in a couple of hours. Meaning I didn't need to be dragged from–" The litany is interrupted when he glances up to see that the inspector has a white-knuckled grip on one of the wooden chairs. "Reid?"

"Mmm?" The response is as distant as his gaze. Jackson frowns, gets to his feet.

"You feeling all right?" It's his first good look at the man since he got here, and he doesn't like what he sees. Pale yet sweating, eyes red-rimmed and shadowed. He touches the back of his wrist to Reid's forehead. "You're burning up."

"Irrelevant. We have work."

"Sit," Jackson says. Surprisingly, Reid obeys. "Your wife let you out of the house like this?"

"My wife… has other concerns." He stares through the body on the floor. It takes him a long moment to blink. "As do we." He makes no movement to get up.

"Symptoms, Reid."

"Irritation," he murmurs. "Impatience."

"Funny. Nausea? Cough? Dizziness?"

"Captain. It is a minor inconvience. Right now we have a murderer to catch; your talents would best be served toward that end."

"Lucky I can handle focusing on both. Why don't you let me and Drake finish up here, and you can head home?"

Reid shakes his head. "Impossible."

Jackson lights a cigarette. "Gonna take me at least a couple of hours for your autopsy. I can send someone with word when I get it done."

"No," Fingers rub at his forehead. "If this is indeed part of a pattern, we have seventy-two hours until the next victim is found. There is no time to waste."

"Ain't nobody suggesting we do so. Just a break, Reid."

Drake returns to the room; Reid pushes to his feet. "Unneccessary, Captain. Sergeant, report."

"A boot print in the outer room. Looks could be a match for the one found at the first scene."

"Show me." They exit the room together.

Jackson turns back to the body, resumes his superficial examination. Defensive wounds on the hands; a new development, and one that gives him hope he might find some evidence under the man's short fingernails. He's inspecting one of those hands in the light from the window when he hears the sounds of a scuffle in the next room.

"Reid? Drake?"

No answer. The room devoid of everything but the disturbed dust settling in striated sunbeams. The door is ajar, however; Jackson draws his pistol and pushes through. Out front he finds both of his colleagues. One empties his stomach onto the cobblestones beside the stairs.

"Christ, Reid. Go home."

"No." Bracing himself with an arm on the brick wall, he holds a handkerchief to his lips. "There's a killer stalking my streets."

Jackson shares a look with Drake. Shrugs. "Well I'm ready to get out of here whenever you are."

Pale as paper, Reid rests his head on his arm. "Very good," he exhales, as if his breakfast wasn't splattered on the ground in front of his feet. "We go to Lehman Street." He doesn't look particularly inclined to move.

"Sure, Reid. Whatever you say."

Two hours later, he's finished the autopsy; a scrub and a smoke and he's headed up the stairs to Reid's office. The blinds are closed, as is the door. With a perfunctory knock, the captain lets himself in. The inspector's head comes up from the desk so quickly that it rustles his papers.

"Jackson." It's rough, slowed. "You have news."

"Not really. Just that your killer might be sporting some fresh scratches courtesy of our man downstairs." He slumps into the chair on the other side of Reid's desk. Lights a new cigarette. "Not much use for finding him, but it should help if you do."

Reid groans, rubs his eyes. Two bright spots high on his cheekbones – the only color to his face – tell Jackson that he's still got the fever. "Nothing else?"

"Oily spot on his sleeve, near the elbow. I'm cooking it." Tugging at his tie, the inspector clears his throat. Swallows. "You gonna be sick again?" Jackson asks.

"No." As if he can simply will it to be so.

"If you don't plan on going home, why don't you make use of that cot you've got there." He nods toward the small bed. "I'll tell Artherton not to let anyone up."

Reid looks at the cot for so long that the captain thinks that he might give in. "No, I…"

"Any break in the case and I'll be right up here to get you," Jackson adds "You have my word."

A moment more and he nods heavily, a testament no doubt to what ails him over Jackson's persuasive skills. The American doesn't care.

He sees Reid settled. Closes the door.

[lewkwoodnco]

Heyy:) I just wanted to request a George x fem!reader one shot :P I totally understand if you don't want to write it or if you don't like the idea or anything but I was thinking a fic inspired by "wildest dreams" by Taylor? Just some silly teen romance vibes you know🤭 (and please no Angst or anything, I can't take that shit atm😔)

Wildest Dreams - George Karim x Reader

A/N: going to be taking a break from the requests in my inbox to work on my 12 days of fics series! (but will get back to them after im done heheh) I might have completely butchered this ask im so sorry BUT I made it as fluffy as I think it gets (w George at least), just had to do the 77 thing i have no self-restraint, also this poem is soso beautiful one of my absolute favesss but idk whats up with the formatting :(((, wc 3.3k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Subtle Bridges

Walking with me, you'd once pointed to the fragility and ingenuity of a spider's web. Subtle bridges, you said, On bridges some men hang. A warning that has stayed While I read history traced in blood and tears of men. I was caught in the end with a nest of books. They burned anyway, and now I bend to build an emperor's endless wall. Like a thread of longing the border runs in loops and bends, and along it we root the gravestones of nameless men. A king's metaphor, This is, history raised from ash and bone -- a symbol Of its vast futility, or of eternity. Which it is I do not know, But since leaving home some things have come clear. No one literally breaks from loss, not even here. And some ties won't give. I sometimes dream of you, and walking, in gardens where love and knowledge hang.

By Yvonne Koh

She was at the Kensel Green Cemetery with the rest of her team from Fittes, after being called down by DEPRAC because of a robbery. They had spread out over the building, looking for any sign of the missing relic or the culprit, when she heard a slow, grinding noise from inside the hall. She quietly crept in to the silhouette of a shadowy figure bent over the casket.

"Can I help you?"

The boy's head snapped up immediately, painfully slamming against the stone shelf behind him. She let out an involuntary gasp, briefly wincing at the hollow thunk.

"Didn't do it," he groaned, steadying himself against the wall. "...whatever it was that...someone did."

She squinted at him using the little light spilling in from the corridor. He couldn't have been more than a year or two older than her. Against her better judgement, she kept her voice down.

"This is a crime scene!" she hissed at him.

"I - what?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm not a thief, or a relic man. I promise."

Her eyes swept his scruffy appearance critically. "Why would I think that?"

"Ms L/N?"

She turned, momentarily speechless, barely registering the rustle of the boy stealing away into the darkness. She blinked against the brightness of Inspector Barnes' torch, glancing back to check that he really was gone.

"Everything alright?"

She paused for a moment longer, as if willing him to rematerialise in the corner he had been crouching in just a moment ago. Nothing. Her eyes narrowed. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.

"Must have been the wind."

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

George was staring out the kitchen window glumly, lazily stirring his mug of tea. The weather was as pleasant as it got, and Lockwood had roused them all at the crack of dawn for a breakfast picnic, to 'boost morale.' Of course, George should have known better than to hold his breath, especially when loud angry voices had started to shake him awake when he had been halfway through groggily packing their picnic basket. Now, he sipped his cold tea through thin lips, listening to the slow, steady footsteps approaching the kitchen and the wan face belonging to them.

"Let me guess. You and Lucy are no longer in the mood for a picnic?"

Lockwood sombrely shook his head. George sighed, picking up the picnic basket. Seemed like a shame to let his slaving away go to waste. And he was still very much in the mood for the strawberries and cream he had packed inside. Which is why George had been heading out for a solo breakfast picnic with enough food for three when he heard a foreign voice stop him.

"George Casper Karim."

He looked up from the doorknob in alarm. It was the girl from Kensel Green Cemetery. He hesitated, trying to gauge her expression.

"Ex-employee of Fittes Agency, fired after six months for insubordination, currently a researcher at Lockwood & Co."

"Brilliant. Astonishing, really, how you've repeated my own job history back to me."

She frowned. He relished the stab of satisfaction. He'd had a shitty morning and was likely going to have a shitty day, so really, having a go at someone was probably going to be the highlight.

"There's no need to be rude."

"I think I'd know where I've been the past couple of years, thanks very much. Forgive me for not being more impressed."

Still looking a little disgruntled, she pressed on, firmly clutching the waist-high gate. "I've got a bone to pick with you, if you don't mind."

He eyed her warily, and decided against approaching her any further. "You can pick it just fine from over there."

She looked mildly peeved, but he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her. After a few long, tense seconds, she relented, not that she was happy about it..

"So...you were right. You're no relic man."

That was quick. "Thank you. Have a nice day." He closed the distance between him and the gate in a few quick strides, pushing against it, but she pushed right back with a steely look in her eye.

"Don't know about the other bit, though."

He didn't like the look in her eye; the look of someone knowing something he didn't. His mouth went dry.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Might be more convincing if your associate hadn't mentioned a talking skull. Awfully difficult to contain a visitor without a ghost jar, wouldn't you say?"

He swore under his breath. "Fucking Lockwood can't keep his mouth shut."

"I don't expect DEPRAC takes kindly to thieves or hooligans-"

He let out a bark of laughter. "Hooligan? Me?"

"-or strange boys who break into places they shouldn't be-"

"You can't prove it was me."

"Wanna bet?"

A challenge. A dare. His mouth was already open to call her bluff when the self-satisfied smirk curling at the corner of her lip gave him pause. Lockwood wouldn't be much pleased if he gave DEPRAC another reason to steer the agency dangerously close towards closing. He wasn't like Lockwood or Lucy - he was careful, very careful. Too late George wished he had been a little more careful all those years ago in covering his tracks - but, to be fair, he had no reason to think anyone at Fittes would have been capable enough to put two and two together.

Until now.

"Look, why don't we...talk about this, like civilised people? I've got strawb - you like strawberries and cream, don't you?"

She sneered again. George was beginning to think that was just how her face looked.

"You want to bribe me with...strawberries...and cream?"

"It's not bribery. Just...a friendly chat. Agent to agent."

Which was how they ended up on a grassy hill at one of the meadows at the outskirts of London. He had never been there before, but Lockwood had remembered it as a prime spot for cosy family picnics.

"So what else do you know about me?"

She chewed a bite of scrambled eggs thoughtfully before responding.

"You're obsessed with the Problem. An obsession that made you an asset, initially."

She had heard that he was the one who had identified the visitor, Edmund Bickerstaff, but what she had had difficulty wrapping her head around was how he had managed to do it with only the vast yet imprecise volumes of the Archives at his disposal. Imagine what he could do with the carefully curated library at Fittes. She stared at him, trying to figure him out. There was a gentle breeze blowing and the slight movement made him look marginally more affable but not any more comprehensible. She let out the breath she was holding.

"You must have really screwed up for Fittes to have let you go."

He shrugged. "It was a long time coming. Fittes never really was the type of company I was interested in working at, and I was never the type of employee Fittes was interested in keeping."

"What about now? Have you ever considered leaving?"

"Why would I?"

"I've taken a glance at Lockwood & Co's financial records. You can't be making much, if anything at all."

"And go from being broke to being broke and homeless?"

"Homeless? What about your parents?"

"I visit them, occasionally, but they're a right piece of work. Last time I saw them was my grandmother's 77th birthday. I think there was a row but I can't be completely sure because I was a little, er, sloshed. The party ended, and I expect the champagne went flat, and my aunt was the last to leave. She was sitting on the floor with a merlot in her hand, and her voice was ringing through the halls. The curtains were burnt, my parents didn't talk to each other for a week, and one of my brothers had broken his hand. But I could never forget sitting in that empty dining hall, holding those sodden, scorched curtains, listening to her saying nothing lasts forever, nothing lasts forever."

The sunlight had a diffused quality to it, at least the little of it that managed to pour through the layer of clouds blocking the sky. The ashy light threw a powdery glow on George's face, and for a moment she felt as though she was in that dining hall with him, listening to those same laments. He glanced at her, and she felt a sudden, foreign uncertainty grip her heart.

"Now I feel really bad about lying."

His hand slipped, missing his mouth by a good couple of inches, nearly sending the contents of his glass down his shirt.

"Lie? What lie?"

"I kind of haven't, not really...actually spoken to any of your associates."

He chokes on his laughter, and when he throws his head back she wonders if she's ever seen anyone laugh as freely as him. It's a ridiculously enticing sight.

"Touché. Touché."

He looks at her in the eye, unabashed, with an unnaturally casual intensity. It almost feels impolite.

"So...yeah. Maybe I was suited to be a Fittes agent, once upon a time, but not anymore."

"That's a pity."

He looks at her weird, and she hastily changes the subject.

"Do you do this often?"

"What, taking strangers out for breakfast?"

"No. Bring a girl out here, feed her some strawberries and cream, maybe a Shakespearean sonnet or two..."

"I don't set much store in Shakespearean sonnets. I'm not...I'm not much of a poetry person."

There's something reserved in his face that makes her feel terrible for asking.

"I've really only read one worth remembering. Subtle bridges, you said, on bridges some men hang. Some ties won't give. I sometimes dream of you, and walking, in gardens where love and knowledge hang."

He bites into a strawberry, which stains his lips a bright red. She looks away a second too late.

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

After reluctantly agreeing to keep the matter of the stolen ghost jar between the two of them, she never expected to see him again. And yet, as fate would have it, they crossed paths again roughly a week later. She and one of her teammates had been assigned to a Church to handle a relatively weak Type Two, when she heard a scuffling sound from one of the rooms whose door was ajar. Her teammate froze, and she didn't feel much braver either. They approached the room cautiously, rapiers at the ready.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"Y/N?"

The glare from their flashlights blindly darted over the room before it settled on the floor, illuminating a bleeding George looking the worse for wear, hissing at the harsh florescent light.. She visibly relaxed.

"Oh. You again."

Lockwood and Lucy exchanged a look.

"Do you two know each other?"

A silence followed. George looked to be at a loss of words and she, too, couldn't quite find the right answer.

"We've...met."

They helped George up while Lockwood smoothly explained the situation, and how they would never dream of intentionally From the derisive eye rolls of his remaining, uninjured associate, there was clearly more to their presence than he was letting on, but she wasn't paid nearly enough to go through the trouble of finding that out. Apparently, they had already dealt with the Type Two, so she filled out her report as vague as she dared to be, while they wandered out to flag down a cab.

George lingered behind briefly, dabbing at his nose experimentally while she put the finishing touches to her file.

"We can't keep meeting like this, you know."

"Like what?"

She shook her head, surprisingly having to bite back a smile. "You're incorrigible. If you keep sneaking around for much longer I'll have to report you one of these days."

He pulled his face into an exaggerated sulk and ducked as she tried to smack him with her case report.

"Alright, alright!"

True to his word, their less-than-ideal meetings came to an end. Instead, they continued to occasionally meet at that serene, refreshingly Edenic sloping hill. She'd return from a client meeting or from scoping out a location and the front desk would have a message waiting for her, from one vaguely snippy anonymous man. Sometimes he'd be waiting at the hill with snacks, which she'd ravenously dig into, though he was less generous on the biscuit front. He tells her about the happenings of 35 Portland Row and his research and bounces his latest theory on the origins of the Problem off of her. She tells him about her week, and the bothersome, inept people she works with, and on their joint cases he's snarky towards all the right people. It makes her feel special.

On one such evening, they were lazing on a picnic blanket, and a pleasantly warm breeze was toying with their hair. George was looking at the severe, fragile branches encroaching on the powdery blue sky through heavily-lidded eyes. She was absent-mindedly fiddling with his surprisingly soft fingers, distractedly breathing in the faint, antiseptic smell of ammonia that clung to his clothes. She was thinking about how sharp he was and how quickly he picked up on details on their joint cases. No matter how many times she saw him pick apart a case with a carefully perfected elegance, she felt like a part of her would forever be in awe of his beautifully intricate mind.

"Sometimes I feel like your talents are so wasted here. Imagine what you could do with access to all of Fittes' resources."

"i don't need Fittes's resources to be a good researcher."

She watches the yellow daffodils tossing their heads back just inches in front of them through her eyelashes.

"i know you don't. It can't hurt, is all I'm saying."

"Why do you care?"

She paused. Why did she care? She cared about him, sure, but it was no different from how she cared about her teammates, her friends, but with George...it somehow felt more personal. She sighs irritably, releasing the bubble of frustration lodged in her throat all week. She just wanted what was best for him. It takes her a minute to come up with her hesitant response.

"I...don't know. I don't care. But sometimes I can't help but wonder...what if this was what you needed to uncover the root of the Problem?"

He half-laughs, but stops short at the sight of her face as she lifts her head off his chest. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"Y/N...statistically speaking -"

"All I'm saying is the answer could very well be in the Fittes library and you might be the only one who'd know where to look."

She lies down again, and whispers to the trees rather than George.

"Just...something to think about."

As time went on, their relationship began to bleed into more public spheres. She dropped by Portland Row occasionally, and they even had tea at her apartment once. On this particular afternoon, they were in George's room at Portland Row. She was looking through the titles on his alarmingly tall bookcases while he was at his desk, copying some runes from a book while telling her about his latest experiment with the skull. Her eyes roved over the titles restlessly, unseeingly, in a futile attempt to distract herself from her upcoming assignment. She let George's voice wash over her, pleasingly varied in tone and comfortingly familiar, soothing the itch in her brain. After a moment or two, she realises he's stopped talking, and looks up to see him staring at her with a frown on his face.

"Er, sorry. Drifted off there for a while."

"I guessed."

He studies her with an inscrutable expression and she's been caught too off-guard to come up with anything other than the letter burning a hole in her desk.

"You alright?"

She sits on a chair next to his and rests her chin on her knee, feeling oddly wooden. After getting to know George, she had taken the comfort of being able to somewhat predict his mannerisms for granted, and the thought of heading into this blind made her nervous.

"My team's been assigned a case outside of London."

"Oh. When?"

"We leave this weekend."

He looks too stunned to ask the question weighing on both their minds.

"It's for a month."

"A month," he echoes distantly, as if not quite sure what to make of that piece of information. His face remains impassive and she waits for a reaction which never comes. "What about that celebratory dinner?"

"We leave after it."

"Oh."

For someone who usually always had so much to say about anything and everything, his current conversational skills were desperately wanting. Say something. Be affected, she begs internally. She needs to hear him say it. She needs the sickness in her chest to be real, to be founded.

"It'll be...different without you." The careful look on his face makes her feel like he's picking out her emotions from her face and engineering an optimal response. "I'll miss you."

It doesn't comfort her in the way she expected it would. Suddenly, she can't even bear to look at him.

"You don't have to."

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

Either George had decided that she needed some space or he was just as pissed as she was, because she didn't see one sign of him over the next few days. Good. She hardly noticed. The thousand times a day he crossed her mind were only out of relief, and nothing else. But as much as she pretended otherwise, by the time the celebratory dinner rolled around, his absence had taken a toll on her. She couldn't tell if she was hoping or dreading seeing him again.

She was on a balcony on the upper floor, looking miserably into the radiant foliage of the gardens below, where unfamiliar faces flitted with a lightness of heart she envied. Their shadows are tall and intertwine ceaselessly, making her dizzy. Her bags were packed, her ticket was waiting on her mantle, and all loose ends were tied up. Even her one chance at happiness for the rest of her life.

There's a rustle behind her and she turns to see George standing a considerable distance away from her. He's only marginally closer than the first time they met, properly, when he was standing outside their front door and she was pacing behind the garden gate. She wants to cry in relief. Instead, she finds it in her not to look away. Maybe it's the confusing lighting, but there's a soft edge to his face.

"I thought I saw you come up here."

She doesn't say anything; she's too happy to. And yet, a part of her is still deeply unhappy with the sight in front of her.

"Have you...tried the food?"

"...it's not as good as yours."

"You must be leaving soon."

"Tomorrow." The thought makes her want to rip her face off.

"You'll be back in a month."

She drummed her fingernails against the marble railing, carefully choosing her words.

"What if things change in a month?" What if, she wanted to say, you meet someone else who loves you better than I can?

"It's only a month."

"A whole month."

"I don't understand. Why are you so afraid?"

"Because - because you'd forget me. You'd forget me, and our memories would sink six feet under, and you'd move on and my heart would break and...you wouldn't care."

She's never felt this way about anyone before, and she doesn't know how to express how badly she needs him to stay.

"I don't want to go back to not knowing you, George."

The setting sun burns into her neck and all of a sudden, she feels unbearably hot. Her hair is plastered to her forehead and her hands feel clammy. Her face is flushed and she feels ridiculous in her dress. But he's here, and she's said it, so she lets herself dream, if only for a moment.q

"I think about you every day. One month, two months, three months...I'll wait."

TAGLIST: @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[satin-spanks-and-frills]

Sent to live with Auntie

The first part of a story I wrote on Fetlfe

Part 1

His mother had had enough. The summer holidays were only a few days away and she knew what she had to do. Her sister had offered to take him in hand on more than one occasion but she wasn't altogether sure about her methods but now she was at the end of her tether. She'd threatened to send him to live with his Aunt before but he'd known she was bluffing, now he wasn't quite so sure after he overheard her talking on the phone that evening. "I've tried everything, but nothing seems to get through to him" she said, "if you're sure you're happy to take him I'll put him on the train tomorrow morning". His heart sank when she told him, he begged and pleaded, made promises to be a good boy but her mind was made up. He was going to spend the rest of the summer holidays with his Auntie Karen.

He barely slept that night, if he was being honest he really didn't like his Auntie. She was a severe woman, who made it quite clear that she really didn't like little boys. It was going to be a long summer, the only ray of light being his cousin Kristen who was a few years older than him. She was a tomboy who was always happy to play with him. He hoped she'd still feel the same, it had been some time since they'd seen each other.

Morning came and after one last fruitless effort to change her mind, he was dragged to the train station by his mother. He was surprised when he was told not to bother packing any clothes but his Mummy assured him his Auntie had lots of suitable clothes for him at her house. "The ticket inspector knows which stop you need to get off at" she told him "Auntie Karen will be waiting for you". With that she put him on the train and waved him off.

The journey took a couple of hours, he gazed out of the window and remembered the last time he'd visited, they were painful memories. He only stayed a week but he lost count of the times he'd been spanked by his Aunt. His face blushed bright pink as he recalled howling across her knee as she whacked him with her slipper, wooden spoon or hairbrush, often with his cousin watching on. He recalled an overheard conversation between his Aunt and Mother as they were getting ready to leave "I've still got all of Kristen's old clothes, he's so small that they'd fit him perfectly" his Aunt said, "why don't you give it a try, it worked wonders on Kristen". Before his Mother could reply she caught sight of him listening "We'll see how things go for the next few months, hopefully there'll be some improvement" she said giving him a pointed look. He hadn't understood what they were talking about at the time but thinking about it again gave him a growing sense of unease.

His Aunt met him on the platform, her eyes appraising him as he walked towards her. With a curt welcome she told him to come along and he followed her to the car park. He went to get in the front passenger seat but was told to get in the back "Children ride in the back in my car" said his Aunt "it's time you remembered your place, from what your Mother's been telling me you've been getting above yourself lately". Their eyes met in the rearview mirror as he sat sullenly in the back, he noticed an amused twinkle in her eye as if she knew something he didn't, again he felt that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Kristen isn't home for the holidays yet" said his Aunt as they pulled up the drive to her house "her school doesn't break up until the weekend, so it'll just be the two of us until then". He'd forgotten that his cousin attended boarding school, the nearest school to their tiny village in the countryside was a two hour round trip away so the decision was made for to attend the boarding school his Mother and Aunt had went to.

She led him into the large house, once through the door she crouched down to look him in the eye "Let's get things straight right from the start. You know why you're here, your Mother is fed up with your behaviour and your attitude" she said wagging a finger in his face "all that stops right now. If you follow my rules and behave as I expect you to then you might actually have a fun summer with us but.." she raised his chin to look directly into his eyes " if you don't I can promise you'll be very sorry indeed, have I made myself clear?". "Yes Auntie Karen" he mumbled " We'll see" she said "It's getting late and I'm sure you're hungry after your journey, we'll have some dinner then see about getting you settled in and ready for bed." Bed? he thought, it was barely 6pm and it would still be light out for hours, he'd hoped to go exploring in the large garden behind the house. Perhaps his Aunt had lost track of time, there was no way he was going to bed this early.

Once he'd finished dinner, his Aunt told him he had half an hour until bedtime. "But it's only 7 o'clock, there's no way I'm going to bed this early. I'm not a baby!" he stormed. "You'll do exactly what I tell you to or you'll suffer the consequences, I won't be argued with or spoken back to. You can get yourself upstairs right this minute, you're going in the bath then straight to bed" she snapped, taking a firm grip on his arm and leading him upstairs to the bathroom. "Clothes off" she ordered, he hesitated for a moment "if you don't take them off I'll do it for you" she said. It was so embarrassing to strip off in front of his Aunt, he tried to hide his modesty but his Aunt slapped his bottom and told him not to be so silly. "Get in and give yourself a good scrub, I can't abide the smell of boys in this house so you had better get used to smelling a lot sweeter than you do at the moment. You've got 10 minutes, do not make a mess, I'll be back to check you've washed properly once I've disposed of these foul smelling clothes"

He didn't know what she'd put in his bath water but whatever it was it smelled incredibly girly, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He'd barely begun washing himself before his Aunt appeared and ordered him out. "Put this on" she told him, handing him a fluffy pink dressing gown "it belonged to Kristen but I think it will fit you too". "That's a girls robe, I can't wear that!" he snorted, "where are all my clothes" he demanded. Taking him firmly by the arm his Aunt marched him out of the bathroom and through to what was to become his bedroom. "I've told you once already that I won't argue with you or be spoken back to" she said, sitting herself on the edge of the bed "it's time you found out what happens to little girls who don't do as their told". With that she dragged him across her knee and began to spank his bare bottom. "But I'm not a girl!!" he wailed as the spanks rained down, setting his backside on fire. "For the rest of the summer you are" said his Aunt as she continued to smack his behind. "Your Mother knows I will not have men in my house so the only reason I agreed to take you was on the understanding that you would live and act like a little girl for the duration of your stay". "Noooo!! I won't do it!!" he wailed as he struggled in his Aunts grip "You can't make me!!". "Cant I?" she asked, "well, we'll just see about that wont we" as she picked up a hairbrush from the dressing table. "I think by the time I've finished with this hairbrush you'll be begging me to dress you up like a pretty little girl".

His bottom was on fire, he kicked and wriggled but there was no escape. Soon he hung limply across his Aunts lap, tears and snot dripping on the carpet. "Are you ready to do as you're told?" she asked " I can carry on all night if I have to". "Y,Y,Yes Auntie" he snivelled, relieved that she finally stopped. "I'm going to stand you up and you're going to ask me very nicely to get you ready for bed, understood?". She released her hold and guided him to his feet, his hands instantly rubbing his throbbing backside and his nakedness forgotten. "Now, what do you want to ask me young lady" said his Aunt "P,P,Please can you get me r,r,r,ready for bed Auntie" he stammered. "See how easy that was, let that be a lesson to you". She opened the drawer on the nightstand and pulled out a pair of extremely girlish pyjamas, pink shorts with frills around the legs and a matching top with a unicorn on the chest. "Put these on and get into bed" she ordered, drawing back the covers on the bed. He hadn't noticed but his bedding was covered in Disney princesses, he cringed with embarrassment but the deep, throbbing pain in his bottom reminded him to hold his tongue. His Aunt tucked him in and kissed his forehead. "I want you to go to sleep, no getting up until morning. We've lots of things to take care of tomorrow, so you'll need a good nights sleep. If I have to come back up here, you'll be very sorry." With that she left him, it was still light outside and it leaked through the thin curtains. He was able to finally take in his new surroundings, he was in the bedroom of a 5 or 6 year old girl. He struggled to understand what was going on, his Aunt was obviously crazy, there was no way this could be happening to him.

He lay awake for what seemed like an age, the sting in his bottom slowly subsiding to a deep, throbbing ache. He would run away, he decided, all he needed was some clothes and he'd sneak out and escape. Slowly he crept out of bed, there must be something he could wear, all he needed were a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Slowly he opened the large wardrobe and his heart sank, hanging inside were rows of little girls dresses. Their bright colours and shiny fabric seemed to glow in the half light. He was momentarily mesmerised, running his fingers over the soft material. He felt something he'd never felt before and it both excited and repulsed him, what was wrong with him? He closed the wardrobe door and checked the dresser, each drawer confirmed his worst fears. They were full of frilly, girlish underwear and socks, even the few t-shirts he found were obviously meant for little girls. He pulled out a pair of panties and the feelings of excitement mixed with disgust came back. The knickers had a small bow on the front and rows of ruffles on the rear, would he really have to wear these? To his utter shame and embarrassment he felt himself grow inside his pyjamas, quickly he put the panties away and crept back to bed.

[nawilla]

I'm sorry, N the Cat

N the Cat is dying.

She has had hyperthyroidism since before the pandemic (and thanks to the pandemic going on as long as it did, she wasn't able to get radiation therapy because the only animal hospital that did that in our state (a mere uber ride away) had just built a new facility and couldn't get the radiation inspector out to certify it. By the time it was done her kidneys had been damaged and she was no longer eligible.

Her chronic kidney disease has caught up with her and even with fluid support we just can't keep up with it anymore and she will probably pass this week. Right now she seems to be okay. She had been to the emergency vet about a week and a half ago to get IV fluids after struggling to keep her hydrated on subcutaneous fluids and seemed to do well, the numbers were going in the right direction, and she had even gained back weight that she had lost. She had stopped drinking, something she had done before, probably because she had a cold/allergies and couldn't smell the water, and I thought she was just not drinking her bowl water after I bought her a new fountain, but it turned out she wasn't drinking at all. She still hasn't resumed drinking. But she was eating and enjoying life and seemed to feel so much better after her $1100 fluid therapy session (wherein the hooked her up to a $9 bag of fluids for 4 hours). We also learned she had lost most of her hearing and couldn't hear me anymore.

She started hanging out on my bed more, and sleeping next to me, which she hadn't done in a while.

Now I realize she was saying goodbye.

She had been loving, affectionate and again, eating her food.

Here she is on Sunday, sitting on me while I'm reclining on the bed. On Monday she even accepted treats which she had been ignoring for weeks because she was only eating wet food while she wasn't drinking, but had recently started eating dry food again.

Tuesday morning I woke up to her vomiting, and while I only found one pool of foamy yuck on the floor, I heard her retch a few more times. She also refused food for the first time. Ever.

I was hoping it was a stomach bug, because frankly, her weight was good, she was hydrated, and well, she had just thrown up. But I knew that when M the Cat died from kidney disease, he only stopped eating the last few days.

I got home Tuesday night and couldn't find N anywhere. Not on my bed. Not in any of her usual hiding places. Not in any of her never used before hiding places. I went through the whole house three times calling for her and now that she's deaf she couldn't hear me. I cried and was up all night worrying and was up early Wednesday morning trying to find her again. As in up with the sun and it's June in the Northern Hemisphere.

I called off work because I couldn't find her and if she had hid somewhere to die, I needed to find her body.

At 9 am sharp she crawled out from under the bed I had been sleeping on. She was so far back under it and so deeply asleep she didn't hear me looking for her.

I stayed home with her today because frankly I was a mess, and she needed care. She picked at her breakfast, engaged in some cuddling, and got fluids 4 times today. But by midnight it was clear. She is still losing weight and getting dehydrated no matter how much I give her, and in the late afternoon she retched again and refused her dinner.

I have to go in tomorrow, but I'm trying to split my work so I can go in early, come home for lunch, and then go back for the experiment and come back right after, hopefully getting fluids into her when I'm home. She got into a snit after I gave her appetite stimulant (she hates that I have to rub it in her ear), and pointedly went under the bed, but the room got very hot around the same time, so I think it's cooler down there too.

N the Cat is about 10 or 11 years old. She was my first cat that I had as an adult and she chose me when she was a stray and made it very clear she wanted to live here with me. I have toys and brushes and food I bought her that will never be used or opened because I just never got around to it with my crazy work schedule. We never set up the mini billiards table, but by then she had lost interest in rolling balls. We never got to try the steam brush I bought her last week because I've had to give her fluids multiple times a day and she was only going to sit still for so long.

I just got in her Chewy order with more Delectables (for giving her thyroid pills) and Sheba cat food because I didn't realize we already had a whole unopened box, and the open one was running low.

I may donate it to an animal shelter or food bank when she is gone.

It just feels so unfair. M the Cat was 18 years old when he died. D was 12. I promised N she could be the only cat again if she outlived the other two that I took in when their owner died, but she was already sick by the time they did. And she is dying younger than either of them. She deserves more years. She deserves so much more than I could give her.

I know it's not my fault she had thyroid issues and that's what is at the root of this, but it still feels like I should have done more for her.

N and I have been through a lot. We've been through break ins, new cats, human friends dying, cats dying, health issues, home repair issues and stalker. She survived the streets, losing whatever her first home was, sharing her space with other cats, removal of a tumor and a global pandemic during which Cat Mom had to work.

I'm not going to get another cat for a long time. When she is gone I'm going to hopefully not fall into a depression but actually clean up and reorganize my house in ways that would have upset her to do while she was alive and trying to live here. Things that I should have done but would take away from what little time we have together.

I'm so sorry, N. You deserved another ten years of listening to me whine (or not since you went deaf), of long naps on the radiator, and good food and cuddles and not having to be stabbed with a needle multiple times a day. You deserved to learn more words, and to have a happy retirement with days in the sun because you would be too old to get far if you ran away. You deserved another decade of treats, and enough time for me to comb out your mats because you weren't doing it, and just me being home more to be with you if you didn't want to be alone.

I hope you decide to come out from under the bed to snuggle a few more times before you go. I hope we get a few more days together. I hope you aren't in pain and won't suffer.

I hope you come back as someone else's cat someday, even though I don't actually believe in an afterlife. I just hope there is one, and that yours in wonderful. I hope someday when I die that you and M and D are waiting for me on the Rainbow Bridge and we can all be together again if that is what you want. Hopefully you won't mind sharing my attention and your space in whatever comes next for you.

I'm sorry I wasn't a better cat mom to you. I'm sorry for everything I couldn't give you. I'm sorry I can't make it better.

I love you so much N. I hope you know how much I love you, even if you can't hear me cry.

[merryfortune]

you are alive, you are flesh and blood

Prompt: Any fandom: any ship - Confession

Title: you are alive, you are flesh and blood

Ship: Inspector/Shiro 

Fandom: Cat Fantasy 

Word Count: 2,275

Rating: T 

Warning: None 

Tags: Female Inspector, Love Confessions, Seemingly Unrequited Pining, Kissing, Interspecies Relationships, Mentioned Inspector/Mandy

   The Inspector sighed tiredly as she sat down at the bench as though it were a tavern’s bar. She sprawled over it, right where Shiro had just mopped up with a cloth and so earned a stare of unceasing neutrality from the AI cat-girl. She bore a hole into the Inspector’s head as the Inspector tried to have a catnap but no dice.

   “Is everything alright, Inspector?”

   Her voice chimed through the Inspector’s thoughts. They bubbled and clouded, clogging up her mind and wearing her down with all the weariness of the world. 

   “Sleepy…” the Inspector mumbled.

   “You are more than welcome to go upstairs to rest.” Shiro suggested. “It would be more hygienic than using our cafe as a bench.”

   “Oh, you.” the Inspector pouted.

   No rest for the wicked, or so she reasoned. She pulled herself up and by the bootstraps, too. She smacked her face and puckered her lips.

   “I still have paperwork to do and there’s still so much to clean in here, it’s been a wild shift-”

   The door to the restrooms to the right of the cafe’s front bench opened and Mandy came through. Surprised to see that all the tables had been cleared and the chairs upturned to be placed atop them.

   “Goodness, I didn’t realise how late it is!” Mandy exclaimed as she came closer.

   “I didn’t even realise you were still here, Mandy.” the Inspector returned her surprise in equal measure.

   Shiro, however, didn’t. “I knew you were here.” She spoke matter of factly like she always did. “But we are closed. Civilians are not allowed inside after hours, please return home safely.”

   “A privilege now that we can be out and about after dark, not that mine and my sister’s place is that far.” Mandy giggled. She bounced on her heels, made gaga eyes at the Inspector by batting her lashes and flashing her pearly white teeth. “All thanks to a certain someone.” She put emphasis on someone, staring down just who that person was: the Inspector.

   Her obvious infatuation always sent a chill down the Inspector’s spine. Still, the Inspector was not so unkind that she would give Mandy the cold shoulder even if she very much did not feel the same way. She got up and left the bar stool.

   “Your welcome, Mandy, my duty and honour,” the Inspector told her, “here, allow me to escort you to the door at the very least so I can see you get home safely. Just in case.”

   “Aw, thank you, Inspector.” Mandy purred.

   The Inspector nodded.

   She did exactly as she told Mandy that she would: she guided the teenage student a few steps to the door and allowed it to ring. Meow, meow, meowww. Mandy laughed at the jingle and relished how the Inspector watched her from the doorframe. The florist, though well and truly closed at this hour, was only a few steps down the road from the cafe and the Inspector sent her off with a warm, watchful gaze.

   And that was that.

   The Inspector closed the door behind her and the bell jingled again. She sighed. Mandy was so bubbly and high-energy, it gave the Inspector a pep when she was around but felt so drained with her gone. Her shoulders slumped forward and she took that as an excuse to stand around and do a quick stretch.

   “Why do you never reciprocate Mandy’s intentions? They are as obvious to me as I’m sure they are to you.” Shiro asked.

   The Inspector’s eyebrow twinged, “Why do you care about my love life so much?”

   “Ahem, no reason.” Shiro blatantly lied.

   It was kind of adorable so the Inspector would never hold it against her. She sauntered back to the counter, placed her elbow over the mahogany flat of it and sized Shiro up.

   “I simply do not feel the same way as her. It would be inappropriate, an officer of the law taking advantage of a sweet, underage Felian. The entire world would have a fit.” the Inspector informed Shiro.

   Shiro giggled mechanically, “Mandy is eighteen according to her records.” 

   Ah. Classic Shiro. Always knowing things that the Inspector didn’t. The Inspector blushed as she now found herself in the faux pas of having guessed Mandy’s age wrong by around two years at least. She supposed that wouldn’t be as bad… Still. Her point remained: she did not feel the same way.

   “Whatever.” the Inspector clicked her tongue and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Shiro. “Besides, there’s someone else I like.”

   “Truly?” Shiro inquired.

   The Inspector nodded. She could feel the atmosphere of the cafe change. The slow, languid air chilled by the night turned electric. They were all alone in here. The fact it was after hours added a new layer of intrigue beneath their artfully dim chandelier lights. 

   If the Inspector strained her ears, she could hear the whirr of Shiro’s motors increase ever so slightly. They were usually imperceptible so if there was reason to hear them… That was unusual and so, she took heart in that. She licked her lips and continued her thinking out loud.

   “Yes, there’s someone I like.” the Inspector confessed and she stole a glance at Shiro.

   Her eyes were wide. Her attention was rapt. Her tail quivered. 

   “That someone is smart and loyal, she is- she is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m glad we met, that she was not just made but born. She’s serious but that seriousness guiles such sparkling wit and cleverness. I-I like her a lot.” the Inspector rambled, her heart raced.

   Shiro’s hands tightened, her fingers curled against her palms, “And is she human or is she Felian?” she asked, bravely asked because a tiny cue in her voice betrayed that she was afraid to know the answer and yet.

   She asked.

   The Inspector, in turn, found her own courage. She looked directly at Shiro and basked at her humble beauty. The sheer white of her hair, the shine to her silicon skin, the way she was always so cleanly presentable, never changing, never out of sorts whatsoever, a solid rock of programming and aesthetics. 

   “Neither.” the Inspector replied. Earnestly, honestly.

   Shiro winced, “How can she be neither?” 

   “You tell me, Shiro. How can you be neither?” the Inspector asked and she got to her feet. Her hands splayed over the bench. “How can you try and turn me away when I… when I…”

   When the Inspector woke up this morning, after exploring the depths of her dreams, the strangeness of her memories and the locations they created in surrealness and absurdity, she didn’t think this was how her day would go. Though, a few months into her position as Inspector really ought to clue her in by now that things never did go smoothly here at their Cafe.

   So, the Inspector let go of all preconceived notion of right and wrong, of up and down, of even species, when she had fallen in love with… Shiro.

   “When I love you.” the Inspector finally finished her impassioned speech with a small smile. Her heart was ready to break, though, as Shiro was a robot. It was clear that despite her cleverness and curiosity, surely she would never feel the same way as a human (or a Felia for that matter).

   A conclusion justified by how Shiro reacted.

   She froze. Not a complete blue screen, however, but her eyes widened as disbelief permeated her expression. Her parameters raced to find some understanding as they organised the Inspector’s speech, turned into binary and tried to decode it in rapid fire pace which would put a supercomputer to shame and yet. Shiro was silent. She was frozen.

   “I think I have since the moment I met you. The real you.” the Inspector added. She had another flashback of that dream of oblivion, of Shiro’s outstretched hand painted with blood as she tried to protect her.

   “Inspector…” Shiro gasped. Better late than never.

   “I-If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine.” the Inspector awkwardly shrugged. “You’ve made it obvious with your attempts at matchmaking. Even if they were misguided.”

   “Don’t you want to be with someone alive?” Shiro asked. “Someone of flesh and blood?”

   Her voice broke as she asked these questions of existence.

   It broke the Inspector’s heart, too.

   “Oh, Shiro,” she murmured, “you are alive. You live, you laugh, you emote through the wide range of emotions that there are from joy to sadness to frustration and, clearly, envy. As far as I'm concerned, you are flesh and blood, Shiro.”

   “Inspector…” Shiro murmured.

   She still seemed stunned, disbelief glued to her but shakily, she brought out her hand from in front of her apron. The Inspector leaned in and, like a cat, nuzzled against Shiro’s palm. She smacked her lips contentedly and closed her eyes.

   “Aah, nice and warm.” the Inspector assured her and slowly opened her eyes. “I like you, Shiro. You are my first partner and the only one I want in a non-professional manner, shall we say.”

   Shiro squeezed the Inspector’s cheek. The Inspector cringed - hey, that hurt - but beared with it as Shiro’s hand trembled. Her lips quivered only to curl into the tiniest, most thankful smile.

   “I never thought you would feel the same, Inspector.” Shiro confessed. “I’ve seen many Inspectors, seen them rise and fall, I had seen them give up and become disillusioned. I wish to never see the same for you, I want you to go higher and higher, I want to never leave your side. You are, I think, the first partner I have truly resonated with. Your kindness is unparalleled, the way you strive, constantly, for the path less travelled as it is often the one which is the most mediated or peaceful… It means a lot. Catto City is in good hands with you and as am I.”

   “Thank you, Shiro.” the Inspector replied.

   Shiro lifted the Inspector’s head by her chin. Her delicate, robotic hands caged the Inspector’s chin. They both leaned over the cafe’s counter and the Inspector felt her blood warm inside of her, it droned and raged and she could only hope that Shiro could feel it via her sensors.

   Shiro initiated their kiss. 

   The Inspector could have swooned as Shiro engulfed all her senses. She smiled as she allowed all of herself to be surrendered to Shiro. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and savoured the first kiss between herself and her most precious partner. 

   Shiro’s lips were soft and warm. Her eyes did not close, however, the Inspector could feel her trademarked, no-nonsense stare from behind her eyelids. Shiro’s technique was subtle. She didn’t know what she was doing but the calculations were clearly being run as there was micro-adjustment after micro-adjustment. She wanted it to be good. She wanted to be good at kissing. The insinuation was as powerful and obvious as the rubbery smell and taste that emanated off her but the Inspector wouldn’t have had it any other way as she kissed back. Intensely, passionately, humanly.

   With only the grace and splendour that Shiro was capable of, she requited all of the Inspector’s sentiments and more with this kiss. Slow and chaste, she overcame all her mid-confession jitters to wordlessly profess a love so profound it went beyond her programming and the Inspector received all of it until Shiro cut her off.

   She was running all the calculations, monitoring all the parameters after all. What was or wasn’t good for a human, leaving the Inspector “wanting more” or something like that as Shiro may have heard the idiom before.

   The Inspector opened her eyes and they were dewy with the emotions running high. Her lips tingled with the memory of Shiro’s own as they departed from one another.

   “I hope that was satisfactory, partner.” Shiro bade her.

   “Yes, yes it was, Shiro.” the Inspector assured her.

   They moved some more. Awkwardly, disjointedly. Shiro was akin to a ball-joint doll once more with an unknowable, unreadable expression. Now defiled by the entropy of humanity: a blush which was not in her cheeks before, now bloomed a rose on either side of her face. Her ears flicked contentedly and the Inspector took all these observations to her throbbing heart.

   “I hope we are partners for a long time, Shiro.” the Inspector told her, her voice a whisper.

   “I-I feel the same way.” Shiro shakily replied.

   The Inspector smiled and they both, mutually, receded from each other. Clunky and mechanical, a touch shy, even, like schoolchildren with their very first crush. The Inspector glanced, infatuated, at Shiro, bouncing in her boots, shifting her weight from one foot to the other only to yawn.

   “Get some rest, Inspector.” Shiro told her. “I will be here in the morning, I promise.”

   “Thank you, Shiro.” the Inspector replied.

   Of course, what tomorrow morning would look like was anyone’s guess. It was against protocol for Inspectors to fraternise with their Combatants, least of all the AI robot ones but in her short tenure, the Inspector of the Baker Squad could probably get some leeway. Falling in love with Shiro would probably be the least of all the infractions she had earned in her pursuit of truth and justice.

   Though the Inspector did hope, perhaps naively, for a bright, sunshiny morning after a night of being well-rested. She hoped for the birds to sing and for the trees that lined the street to sway pleasantly and for yet more kisses from her beloved partner and that together, they would go on to stop armageddon.

[hazel-of-sodor]

What's Lost is Found

Ch.19 Embrace

Other Stories

Other Chapters

Tendrils shot forward and the younger 47xx yelped as she was dragged clear off the rails and into her older sister's embrace, her crew diving to safety. The Uman crews just laughed as they helped them up.

"I thought you scrapped." Screech rumbled, tears of midnight black falling onto her runningboard with an acidic sizzle.

Tyto laughed unbelievingly, "You thought I was scrapped. We saw you scrapped!!"

"They didn't do a good enough job."

"Obviously." Tyto laughed, joyful tears were streaming down her face. "We thought you were gone forever."

Abbey was the first to catch on. "We?" She asked.

"Oh right!" Tyto smiled up at Screech. "Yes, Flying Scotsman rescued me and Eagle, along with several other Westerners from Cashmoore's, before taking us to Caomhnóir."

"Caomhnóir... Is real?" Enid asked, not quite daring to hope.

"Yep!" Tyto chirped, "he's good too. Scotsman was only able to give him a few hours notice but he had places for all of us."

Screech reluctantly set her back down onto the rails in front of her, although she didn't let go yet.

"Eagle and I are North Western engines now." She said proudly. "Our controller has already announced he doesn't plan to follow the modernization plan."

"The Other Railway can't be happy about that," Becca observed.

3219 snorted, "They really aren't, but the island has a history of home rule, and the Suddery council is backing Sir Topham Hatt."

"You are safe then?" Screech asked softly.

"As safe as we can be," Tyto said happily.

"Then I am content."

 "Sir Topham Hatt is trying to get another of our siblings, but the Other Railway is being stubborn," Tyto explained.

"Same with us." Enid chimed in, "We've been trying to buy more engines for months, but we're blocked at every turn."

Tyto frowned, "We'll tell the others so they can pass it on to Caomhnóir, he may be able to help."

"Why not tell him yourself?" Blaidd asked curiously.

"I'm not sure which engine he is," Tyto admitted. "...or even if they are a he. Some of the others I've met said they were saved by a female engine. Honestly, it might be multiple engines."

"You didn't see them?" Enid said disappointedly.

"Only for a moment," Tyto explained, "and even then I'm not certain. I was barely awake when they directed Duck, a 57xx that's friends with Caomhnóir, to take me and Tyto to the works. Besides it's better if I don't know."

"You can't give away their identity if you don't know it." Una guessed. 

"Exactly." Tyto nodded grimly, "the Other Railway is desperate to catch them. None of us that were put back into service know who they are at first. I think a few have since found out, but they feign ignorance either way."

3219 nodded, "One of the Other Railway's inspectors was almost killed last month. He tried to set a trap for them but almost got crushed. If Thomas had not been there..."

"Thomas?" Screech asked with a frown, the name was oddly familiar.

"Our No.1," Tyto explained, "Tiny little tank engine, like smaller than a 1400 small. He's got a little branchline running up into the hills. Cheeky to everyone, but a good sort with an almost Western work ethic."

"Ah," Screech said in realization, "My driver used to read some books about him to their daughter."

Tyto snorted, "Don't mention those to him. He had an accident a few years back when a cleaner fiddled with his controls. He ended up stuck in a house and needed his buffer beam and runningboard rebuilt. For some reason the author of those books wrote it like the whole thing was Thomas's fault."

"I take it he's not the author's biggest fan," Abbey said with a grin.

2319 laughed, "Apparently he wouldn't speak to him for a month after that. In any case, he barely snatched the inspector out of the way in time. The Fat Controller was furious."

"Fat Controller?" Miss Morgan asked.

"Sir Topham Hatt." Tyto clarified, "Apparently the engines called his dad that and it passed to him when he took over."

She frowned, "he really was angry at that incident. The North Western hasn't had a human death on the railway in decades and that was almost ruined by the inspector."

"You said human deaths," Screech noted.

"Trucks," Tyto and 2319 said in unison.

"Ah."

[sevenworldtales]

Debug

Special Agent Roberta “Bobbie” Stone

DOJ Office of the Inspector General

Friday, May 17th, 1985

10:35 PM

Bobbie drove up from D.C. with FBI internal affairs agent Donald Gorsky.

Gorsky was one of the most thoroughly boring people Bobbie had ever met. The man’s personality was the human equivalent of the color beige, and he seemed to enter every conversation with the assumption that the other person was an idiot. Condescending.

Awful personality aside, Gorsky’s record was immaculate, and Bobbie did need him to take down Agent Arlo.

FBI Special Agent Emily Arlo was probably a decent agent at one point in her career, but based on the evidence they had so far, it was clear to Bobbie that Arlo had been compromised.

Bobbie and Gorsky were there to help take her down. The whole case had been built by Philadelphia PD detective Patrick Vern. They were meeting Vern tomorrow.

11:43 AM

Bobbie took out the files that Vern sent last week. She laid them out on her hotel bed.

It was close. They had pictures of meetings, some suspicious bank records, and one testimony from another agent in Arlo’s FBI office.

When Bobbie first spoke to Detective Vern on the phone the first thing she said about the case was that it was flimsy. Now reviewing the files she couldn’t help but still feel that way.

Did Arlo seem guilty? Sure. But could it all have an explanation so far? Yes.

Bobbie fell asleep in a pile of photos and documents.

Saturday, May 18th, 1985

9:30 AM

Bobbie and Gorsky went to the diner Vern had told them about.

Tall, bald, acne scars pockmarking his face, Patrick Vern was a formidable site. Bobbie saw his file. He’d been a detective for 15 years, and it showed. Not in the pudgy way some cops get. In the rough way that always made these loser detectives so attractive to her.

He wasn’t in great shape, and he didn’t have muscle tone, you could tell he was a man who could fight.

“How was the drive? You get a cheesesteak on your way up?” Vern said.

Detective Patrick Vern

Philidelphia PD Detective

Saturday, May 18th, 1985

9:10 AM

Vern sipped his coffee. This place always kept it piping hot. Shame that their roast was shit. He just wanted the heat anyway. He invited the suits here because it felt more like “home turf” than meeting at their hotel, and his apartment was a pig sty.

He had only ever spoken to them on the phone, but he spotted Agents Stone and Gorsky immediately. Stone was an attractive woman, and at least a half foot shorter than the IA agent, but Bobbie commanded a confidence in her body language that was absent in Gorsky.

Gorsky was thin, about five foot ten inches, and had shoulders that looked like they were made of paper.

Vern shook their hands. Both of them had soft hands. Probably from all that desk riding they did in D.C., Vern assumed.

At least Agent Stone had given him a real handshake. Gorsky’s hands were sweaty, and shaking his hand felt like squeezing on cooked pasta.

Vern was trying hard not to use his detective skills to harshly judge the big fancy feds. They were the good guys, and he needed them to take down that traitor Arlo.

“How was the drive? You get a cheesesteak on your way up?” Vern said, in a friendly tone.

“It was late, we just got McDonalds” Bobbie said, smiling.

Vern did an exaggerated look of surprise. “Well you gotta get cheesesteaks before you go back to D.C. I’ll show you where.” Vern said. There was an awkard beat before Agent Stone spoke up.

“Do you think we will need to be here long? We just need to continue tailing Arlo, we should be able to-” Bobbie was interrupted.

“Tailing?” Vern said, “Nah fuck that. I did that for months. We got a bug in her office.”

“What? You can’t… Do you realize-” Gorsky was somehow sweatier than he’d been just moments ago.

“Listen, it’s fine. I spoke to a judge, all the paperwork is for another case. She’s listed as a witness. The warrant was sealed by FBI field command. No exposure there. Trust me.” Vern said reassuringly.

Bobbie chuckled.

“What’s funny? huh?” Vern said.

“This has clusterfuck written all over it.” She said, laughing.

Special Agent Donald Gorsky

FBI Internal Affairs

Tuesday, May 21st, 1985

3:00 PM

“We have audio.” said Agent Stone, looking to Gorsky.

The van was cramped with equipment. The seating space was really meant for two agents. In fact, there were only two agents in the van. Gorsky didn’t count Philly PD slobs like Detective Patrick Vern as agents. He also didn’t appreciate the stench of whiskey Vern exuded.

“We don’t know what we have.” Gorsky said curtly.

“What are you talkin’ about? We got her office on tape! She’s gonna get a call, they will tell her where to meet, and we’ll catch her and some KGB illegal with their pants down.” Vern said, making a hole with his left hand and putting his right finger in and out of it” Bing bong! Bye bye traitor.” He added.

Bobbie chuckled with Vern. “Well not necessarily literally” She added.

“Who knows?” Vern replied, and they both cracked up.

Gorsky had no clue what was funny about any of this. They had a “bug” in the office. This was a listening device placed by a reckless Philadelphia detective.

Vern had gone in without backup. He used a baseball cap and fake mustache and impersonated a janitor to get into the FBI field office. Gorsky was floored by the careless abandonment of protocols.

For all Gorsky knew, the Russians were onto Vern, and the KGB had already surreptitiously gotten word to her about the bug.

Stone and Vern were still chuckling about Vern’s immature little joke when Gorsky saw her hand on Vern’s thigh for a moment.

“Are they fucking?” Gorsky wondered to himself.

That carpet of unprofessional conduct would really match the drapes of broken surveillance protocols and sloppy investigative work, Gorsky thought.

The phone rang. Not in the van, over the wire. The chatter between Detective Vern and Agent Stone silenced as they all waited for agent Arlo to pick up her office phone.

They heard over the wire:

“Special Agent Arlo speaking … Yes … no you can drop it off right here at the office … No its fine! Really! … I double checked … Yes we can do all of that here … alright I’ll see you soon.”

Gorsky turned to Agent Stone and Detective Vern. Their mouth’s gaped with surprise and excitement.

“You don’t seriously think that-” Gorsky started.

“That she just gave herself up? Oh no, I do think that” Vern interrupted.

“Why would she suddenly take a drop to her office? You said it was always somewhere different, outside, public.” Gorsky argued.

“Well I didn’t have a bug in her fuckin’ office until earlier this week! So for alls I know, she’s been making hand offs here too.” Vern said. “You know the way she openly said verification, it can’t be law enforcement.” He added.

Vern made a good point. FBI internal affairs had some chatter about this field office. If Vern had gotten in and out with a three dollar janitor costume, it was likely that several maintenance and delivery people in the building had not been properly vetted.

He didn’t have much time to work it out. The tape of Emily was quickly in the hands of the same Philly Judge that approved of the bug installation.

It felt too good to be true. Arlo just set a meet, and they had it on tape. They would have the in-person meeting on tape. They could apprehend both Arlo and her KGB accomplice once the meeting concluded. If this worked, and they really took down an FBI active double, in less than a week of work, Gorsky would be a hero back at the IA office. Hell, they’d all have feathers in their caps.

If this was a misunderstanding, or KGB subterfuge, all three of them were fucked. Rushed surveillance warrants and bugs in FBI field offices were just the start. The chain of command had been broken, and the only way those violations would slide, is if they caught a double.

The worst part, was that if they botched this, and Arlo was dirty, this whole situation would exonerate her, and some other Philly cop would have to build a whole new case, as Gorsky, Vern, and Stone would be stripped of their titles.

Special Agent Emily Arlo

FBI Field Office, Philadelphia

Tuesday, May 21st, 1985

2:45 PM

Emily found the bug by accident. She was looking for her stapler. The drawer was a mess and she had gotten frustrated just trying to find it.

She pushed the disorganized blob of paper and office supplies and then saw the small device taped to the inner wall of the drawer.

Arlo was as dirty as they come. But that didn’t mean it was IIA. It could be the KGB, trying to get even more leverage on her. There was only one way to find out.

She put the bug back into her desk and left her office. From the break room, she called her favorite department store, and ordered some refills on office supplies. She had a members account, so they would deliver later that afternoon.

She asked them to call her back in 5 minutes, on her office phone to confirm the delivery.

[jgmartin]

The Mask of Ashes [short horror]

My grandpa's an interesting man. He served in the Korean war before he could grow a moustache and walked away with a rack of medals heavier than a brick. Since then, he's had a series of careers including used car salesman, librarian, and most famously, archaeologist. I use the term famously a bit loosely, I'll admit. He didn't make any world-changing discoveries like uncovering King Tut's tomb or finding Excalibur. He did, however, ignite my family's imagination with his lavish descriptions of history.

It was a favourite pastime of my family, listening to grandpa speak. We'd crowd around him every gathering, be it Thanksgiving or Christmas or Easter or just a Sunday supper. He'd regale us with tales of wonder and mystery. He spoke of the Ark of the Covenant, Blackbeard's lost treasure, and the Amber Room.

He also spoke of an old mask, one crafted a thousand years ago by a man possessed by the devil. It was called the Mask of Ashes, and if you put it on you’d be given a vision of the future.

The only time he mentioned this mask though was after a night of heavy drinking on Christmas Eve, 1987. When I asked about it the next evening at supper, he dismissed it. “I had a lot to drink last night,” he said. “I probably got on a roll and started embellishing a bit. You’ll have to forgive me, Andrew.”

I believed him. After all, who hasn’t exaggerated a point or two after a bottle of whisky? “No worries, grandpa,” I remember saying to him. “You just spoke about it in such detail I thought it must be real.”

“Details are easy to fake when you're making it all up anyway."

My grandpa’s health began deteriorating not long after that. At first it was small things. His memory began to fade. Names escaped him. Then, it was his balance. Walking became a challenge. Soon, he was confined to a wheelchair and only able to do the most basic of activities with his hands. His skin turned sallow and pale, and the bright blue of his eyes faded to a shade above grey.

Once an avid gardener, his flowers withered and died without his attention. Soon too did his lawn. It wasn’t long until his lovely red house looked more like a condemned property, covered in dirt and worn out from the weather and years. As a family we tried to keep up with the maintenance as best we could, but still the floorboards would rot and the wallpaper would peel. It got to the point where even being in the house felt draining.

To ensure grandpa got the best care when he needed it, we hired a live-in nurse to look after him. Unfortunately, the nurse passed away shortly after from a heart attack. We hired another. She quit, citing respiratory issues. Then we tried once more, this time ensuring we hired a young man with no prior health concerns. He wasn't even thirty years old yet. Not long after though, he quit too, complaining about a deep pain in his legs. It became clear that without the upkeep the house needed, something toxic had taken root.

After consulting an inspector (who couldn’t locate the source of the toxicity), we decided to have grandpa moved into a nursing home and have the house torn down. We agreed to pack grandpa's belongings as a family. After all, it seemed risky hiring a moving firm when there were so many valuables laying about from his archeology digs.

We picked a date and showed up armed with respirator masks, rubber gloves, and more cardboard boxes than an Amazon warehouse. We decided the easiest way to get everything packed was to split the house into rooms and have a different person pack one each. After a brief discussion and some heated coin-flips (and games of rock-paper-scissors), I drew the short straw and was left with the toughest room of them all: the attic.

Truthfully, I didn't mind so much. Like I said, my grandpa was an interesting man and I was certain he'd have some curious knickknacks squirrelled away up there. So I headed upstairs and pulled down on the dangling ceiling cord. The attic's wooden steps drifted down with a haunting groan. A moment later and the smell of old books, parchment and rat droppings greeted me. Given my grandpa’s condition, I couldn’t be certain the last time anybody besides the inspector had been up there. If I had to take a guess though, I’d say it’d been well over a decade.

I ascended the steps into the attic and squinted as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. It wasn’t anything special. Very typical as far as attics went, complete with a low, sloped ceiling and plain wooden floors. Boxes had been piled anywhere they could fit, with a tight path winding between them that led to the far side of the room, where a dusty desk sat in the faint sunbeam of a dirty, cobwebbed window.

I made my way toward it, figuring working my way from back-to-front might be the best strategy. That way, as I became more tired the boxes would be closer to the stairs. I silently thanked my grandpa for already having just about everything already tucked neatly away and resolved to get to work.

As I came upon the desk at the far end, I noticed a book open on top of it, beside which was a plain mahogany box. Curious, I investigated. No doubt this was the last project my grandpa had attempted to undertake before his health failed him.

The book looked old. Older than any book I’d ever seen. Its pages were yellow and curled, and looked to have been penned by hand. It was bound with sinew between two thick, leather covers. “Creepy,” I said, softly brushing my hand over the surface to clear the thick layer of dust. It revealed a page littered with symbols. Whatever language it was written in used sharp, jagged characters to denote its alphabet. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Well, into the box with you,” I said, heaving a sigh. I closed the book with a poof of dust, and placed it into the packing box next to me. Then I turned my attention to the mahogany container on the desk. Its craftsmanship was excellent. The wood was smooth, a deep brown-red and even up in the attic, where the smell of rat droppings reigned supreme, the box had a rich and clean scent to it. It was plain though, save for a small metal clasp on its front that originally looked to have been for a lock.

I opened it.

Inside was a mask, one of plain design. It had two eye-holes cut out, as well as several sharp, uneven slits made for the mouth to speak and breathe through. I picked it up and took a closer look. The material the mask was made from looked a bit like dried skin. I pulled off a glove and ran my fingers over it. It certainly felt like dried skin. "Probably animal hide," I muttered aloud, not wanting to consider the alternative. After studying it for several more seconds, I decided there was nothing particularly special about it and put it down. It was just an old mask.

I consulted the inside of the box, ensuring that I hadn’t missed something. It was empty. For my grandpa’s last project, this felt oddly anticlimactic. I suppose after a life of so many fantastic stories I just expected something more significant. I picked the mask back up and tossed it into the mahogany container, then closed the lid with a gentle click of the latch.

A memory prodded at the edge of my mind. I bit my lip, staring at the plain box, recalling a legend grandpa told me many years ago. It had been Christmas Eve then. He'd spoken about something called the Mask of Ashes, an object he later insisted he’d made up. I drummed my fingers on the box and my imagination spun to life, recalling the wondrous tale he’d told of a mask that showed the wearer the future. This wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. He’d already admitted the entire story was a drunken farce, and yet…

I opened the box. I’m not certain why, but maybe it was a sense of nostalgia mingled with an inability to accept that my grandpa had really gone his whole life without any major discoveries. He’d always been such a clever man. I pulled my respirator off of my face and stared at the mask with mounting excitement. Reaching down, I flared open its bottom and brought it up over my head, and then slowly placed it over my face.

I blinked. In front of me I saw the dusty desk, my packing box with the book inside, and the mahogany container. Everything looked exactly as it had earlier. “Well,” I said, with a disappointed laugh. “I'm not sure what I was expecting."

I reached my hands up to my neck to remove the mask, but then the world began to bleed. I stopped, my heart thundering in my chest. The desk began to warp, and soon both it and the cobwebbed window bled away, pouring into a red soup on the floor. Around me, the high-stacked boxes did the same. Soon, I stood in a pool of blood up to my knees, warm and thick and rich with the smell of iron.

“Incredible,” I breathed, unable to contain my fascination. I took a step forward, and the pool of blood shifted, creating small waves and ripples upon the surface. For several moments I gazed around in stunned silence, hardly able to believe what I was seeing -- what I was feeling. After all this time, grandpa truly had made a massive discovery. His final project was also his greatest.

I had to tell my family. I had to tell the world. This was more than discovering some rusty sword or old treasure. This was something that would change the way we understood the world, history, and religion entirely. This was something unlike anybody had ever seen. I pulled the mask off of my face and, beaming, turned to leave the attic.

The blood shifted. It sent a wave cascading forward, and I realized the attic was gone entirely. The space around me was a pool of crimson as far as I could see. My smile faltered. I looked down at the animal-hide mask in my hands, and noticed it was gone.

I thrashed forward through the blood, moving toward where I knew the attic door ought to be. I held my breath and dived down, running my hands over the ground and trying to find the latch that would release the stairs and free me from this nightmare. The ground was entirely smooth. No latch. No stairs.

I emerged from the pool with a gasp of air, then shouted and screamed. I called for my father, my sister, my aunt. I called for anybody at all.

“Do you mind?” a voice croaked.

I wheeled around in a splash of blood. A great creature, twelve feet tall loomed before me. Its legs were curved with thick hair in the fashion of a goat, and its four eyes were made of fire.

“You're making a bit of a scene," it said. "We can hear you two circles down."

I swallowed, my panic both mounting at the sight of this monstrosity and waning at the indifferent casualness of its voice. “Err, who are you?”

It rose four eyebrows and reached out, clasping me on the shoulder with a long-fingered hand. It pulled me into a tight squeeze at its side. “That’s more like it. Name’s Lucifer, but you can call me Lu. You’re a little late, but we should be able to fit you in.”

He snapped his fingers and a piece of floating parchment appeared before him. He swiped at it with a finger and I noticed my name was crossed off in a rather dramatic line of fire. “That’s all four. We’re ready to go,” he said.

“Ready to go?” I squirmed away from him. This was turning into full blown acid trip territory. Nothing made sense. The attic, I decided, must have been the source of the house's toxicity problems, and now I was having some kind hallucination from direct exposure. “Sorry," I said. "All four of what?”

“Horsemen," Lucifer said with a serrated smile. “We’re already running behind though, so if it’s alright with you, I’d like to skip orientation and get this apocalypse started.”