#like yes i HAVE been very low on mental capacity these last few days but have you considered

[altruistic-meme]

sometimes it's nice when you have friends who try and look out for your mental health. and sometimes it's incredibly annoying.

[dungeonmastersconsortium]

TW: Mental Health

I struggled a lot with deciding whether or not to make this post. At various times while writing it, I have thought that it was (either separately, some simultaneously, or all together) vain, self-deprecating, self-indulgent, selfish, attention seeking, or too depressing for anyone else to read. And if you continue past this point, heads up: it probably is these things at various times.

For those of you that don't know, I have Bipolar 1 and Borderline personality disorder. I have been actively putting in the work for a few years to get myself toward a better place mentally. Therapy, psych, meds, you name it, I've been doing it. I firmly believe it's important to do the work. (Honestly, you should go to therapy too.) I need to start off by saying this because it's an important foundation for the rest of this post.

My pair of SWEET mental illnesses manifest together in various ways. Individually, they're kind of what you might expect. Take the Bipolar 1. If you've known me for a long time and we interact in person, socially, I GUARANTEE you have experienced one of my manic episodes, and possibly benefitted from it in some way. I'm "lucky" in that the way my manic/hypomanic episodes manifest is mostly in ways that don't directly harm people, especially physically. I get VERY charismatic and outgoing. Very impulsive. WAY more social. I get very generous with my friends, moreso than normal. These also have some really bad downsides, but they aren't the things that would get me hospitalized. (Except for a couple instances of auditory hallucination back in my younger days. Hasn't happened in over a decade, though.) But my impulsivity has hurt people's feelings when I do something careless. I've developed coping mechanisms for this that allow me to more responsibly indulge in mania (which DOES feel great, unfortunately) without harming anyone usually.

Y'all also definitely know I can get pretty depressed. It happens. It happened a LOT in the past. A little less often now. Part of the bipolar thing too.

In short, I feel things much more strongly than neurotypical folks. This applies to all emotional states. While not everything I feel is extreme, the strength at which I feel things has a greater capacity for highs and lows. I guess the best way to explain it would be that most neurotypical folks have an emotional capacity from 1-10, and it's a pretty even scale, proportional to events that occur to trigger that emotional state. I would characterize myself as having a 1-20 scale. One problem is that my emotional scale isn't exactly EVEN. The higher the initial emotional reaction, the more likely it is to slide up the scale if left unchecked. If I'm not careful, something that solicits a reaction of, say, 7, will work its way up higher and higher.

You've heard of people being "overcome by emotion," and I can tell you that it's… SOMETHING. My previous therapist described it as not just a negative thing, he referred to it as a kind of superpower. While yes, I can feel sadness, despair, anger, hopelessness, and outrage at incredibly strong levels, I also experience joy, love, excitement, and passionate at similarly high levels. This can be VERY dangerous if left unchecked for me. A strong "active" emotion like excitement, joy, or anger can trigger a full manic episode.

Every day is work for me, mentally. One of the things 3 separate therapists and 2 psychologists have told me is that I'm very good at metacognition. Metacognition is, in short, thinking about thinking. I'm pretty good at tracking my own thought patterns and examining root causes of present emotions. I'm pretty dang good at this point especially at pointing out to my partners when I can feel the mania or depression coming on. (Which I think they're pretty grateful for lmao) It helps me regulate my emotions, as I can usually backtrack something and figure out when/why it is that way. My last therapist told me it makes his job both easier and harder, because most people have trouble identifying their own thought patterns and processes in therapy, which is why they're in therapy.

I have, both inadvertently and on purpose, developed a lot of tools to help manage my behaviors. In general terms, the best metaphor I can think of is a sheepdog trying to herd a particularly unruly herd of sheep, with no fence. Part of me is just trying to get out, even though it'll objectively be bad for me. The other part of me is constantly running circles around the herd, doing its best to keep everything within safe boundaries. There's a problem with this, though, that the metaphor is also handy for.

A dog can't run forever. At some point, it's going to get tired. It's going to need a break, to rest. Even when the sheep aren't actively trying to get away, just remaining vigilant in place can be tiring. Because it KNOWS they're gonna try to get away again.

My biggest problem over the last couple years is… Hard to talk about. I've trained myself to be able to regulate, but it's a LOT of work. It can be VERY frustrating even when great things are happening, because I can't just let go and enjoy something, as if I let it go too far, it might be bad news. I keep myself in check because I don't want to hurt other people. In my deepest, most authentic self, I don't want to hurt anyone. But it's TIRING.

I think it's why one of my love languages is acts of service and gift giving. (Both giving and receiving.) Someone taking something off my plate without me having to ask is VERY meaningful to me, especially since I have a hard time asking for help. (Part of the whole 'not wanting to make my mental health other people's problem thing.) Gifts also show me concrete proof that other people think about me and care about me during the times I can't remember that any other way. If you've ever been in my office/game room, I'm surrounded by tokens of my friends'/partners'/former students' affection.

The big problem is that… This is kinda the rest of my life. It's a lot of work, with no end in sight if I want to be the person I want to be. Looking out over the horizon of years that I have remaining, however many that might be… The task seems daunting and despair inducing. A prior therapist suggested DBT, but I HAVE the tools to cope, which is what DBT offers. DBT involves twice weekly sessions, one individually and one group, where you learn the skills to deal with your strong emotions, your relationship with attachment, (whether you actively avoid, push away, or attach too strongly,) and develop the tools to handle it. And there's a lot of homework. A LOT. And diary work. And that's why it was never going to work for me. I ALREADY do the mental lists, the metacognition, the identification. The thought of duplicating that work only made the despair worse.

Sometimes I just want to let everything go and be truly reckless for a little while. (No, not like in a stupid "my jokerification moment" kind of way.) Not because I want to hurt other people, but because.. Well, selfishly, it's not fair to have to be this vigilant all the time. It's constant work that I have to do that others don't have to do. It's exhausting and tiring, and there's no therapy that can really address that part of my brain. The frustrating part of therapy and psychiatry is that there's a focus on bringing the patient/client to as close they can to functioning in society, and I put in a LOT of work. There's a lot that I can say about how much it sucks that the SOCIETY we're supposed to be a part of (USA + Capitalism) says, "get on board or fucking die," and does not do any work to accommodate us. But that's a whole other conversation, and this post is already REALLY long.

There's not much of a point here. There's no moral. I guess I just wanted to share my struggle. Maybe someone else will see this and relate. I know it's difficult to find. If you google, "why didn't DBT work for me," you'll get mostly articles talking about how it works for 70-77% of people with BPD, or forum posts telling those asking this question (usually asked in frustrated, despairing tones) that they just didn't work hard enough. Or buy in to the program enough.

I find that insulting. I do work hard, because I think the work is WORTH it. But a lifetime of work like this is daunting when you consider it as a whole, not just as the present. So I try to take it a moment at a time. A day at a time. A week, maybe.

I guess I'll close with a quote from The Good Place. Because I just binge watched it again last weekend.

“I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.”

-Chid Anagonye

[stevenbasic]

“Knock-knock!” I heard at the door of my office, startling me. I was nearly - jesus - an hour into this video call with the Study Coordinator from Evolution, and had obviously lost track of time.  “Where’s my favorite patient?!?’ called the voice. It was Vida, my Nurse Practitioner, entering with a broad smile, a procedure tray and someone else and causing me to look up from my computer screen. “Time for your mediciiine…” In place of her usual white clinic jacket, she was wearing a tailored black jacket over a black, figure-hugging, dress, cut low.

Immediately I said my abrupt goodbyes to Gianna, over chat, and shut down the window right as she was, good lord, blowing me a kiss. At the same time I looked up and gave my wan smile of greeting to Vida and the generously curvy blond woman who’d entered with her…

“This is Morgan, if you two haven’t met yet,” Vida said, as she briskly approached my desk, high heels clacking. Trailing behind her a few steps was a woman in a white blouse and tan leggings - a big woman - broad of shoulder, wide of hip, huge of chest, standing taller than Vida by five or six inches...and myself even more, “She’s a Nurse Practitioner too, from Evolution until just yesterday, when she joined us.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Dr. J…” Morgan purred, in a voice deeper, richer than Vida’s. There was a queer smile on her face and a hint of a vaguely Eastern European accent in her words, one that she was obviously trying to hide. For now she was hanging back, taking her cues from Vida as the younger but more senior woman began to prepare her tray behind my desk to my left. “Nurse Vida is training me today how to take the care of you.”

“H-hi, uh, Morgan,” I replied, immediately sensing that that was not this woman’s given name, and remembering it was time again for my booster shot. The thought, for some reason, brought me a little thrill, remembering how it made me feel last week…but was it also responsible for the 8 pounds I’d lost since then? “But, um, what do you m-”

Interrupting my concerns, Vida chuckled. “Oh, don’t get worried, doc. I just figured that the more of us that know how to do this for you, the better,” she explained, opening the strange black box in which the vitamin B12/D/K booster vial was packaged. I noticed the familiar, strange blue tint of the liquid as Vida removed it along with the pre-packaged syringe. “And Morgan here has lots of experience.” At that, Vida nodded up at Morgan; the larger woman took that as a cue to move around the other side of my desk, to my right, and come to stand alongside me there. I was flanked.

“I-is that right, Morgan?” I asked, hearing the nerves starting to quiver in my voice. I hated needles, I hated them. But this single, combination shot was much better than three separate ones. “Wh-what did you do at Evolution?” I asked, not able to recall her resume as I looked up at her; she was gazing down at me, over the shelf of her formidable bosom. I was hoping that, if she had started seeing patients today, that she had been more buttoned up during the workday. The cleavage she was showing at this moment, over the neckline of her overmatched white blouse, was vast.

“At the Evolution Pharmaceuticals?” she replied, the accent in her voice unable to camouflage itself through the words, “There, I was with research team, taking care of study subjects. But before, I was in pediatrics ward, with preemies, the NICU.” She looked down on me with a crooked smile, and seemed to be resisting reaching out her hand to me. Instead, she ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair. “I love holding little bodies.”

“Haha well, that’s exactly why we’re here, isn’t it, Dr. J?” Vida added, explaining to Morgan and pursing her full, plump, latin lips, “This young man has lost a few inches recently and we need to make sure he gets his vitamins.” With that, Vida beamed down at me and released  her thick mane of dark hair from the conservative bun she’d been wearing for the workday. A wave of the now-ubiquitous perfume in this place flowed over me, and I felt a stirring between my legs. I had been intermittently hard during my video call with Gianna - her tits were unbelievable - and I was afraid now that I might swell to some obvious, inappropriate monster of a boner with these women so close. “Lucky for him he has his girls to take care of him,” Vida concluded. The vial and syringe, for the moment, laid inert on the tray.

I tried to focus. ”I, heh heh, don’t know if I need someone to ‘take care of me’...” I spoke, trying to sound relaxed as Morgan’s left hand finally did come to rest on my right shoulder. I’d honestly just met this woman, but she was being very…familiar. Vida as well; she was generally a bit more aloof than she seemed today. It was like there was something weird in the air, something bringing them closer.

“That's silly,” Vida responded, “Even doctors need someone to look after them.” At that, she began to remove her black jacket, and laid it on my desk, as if preparing herself for her task. Underneath she wore a clingy black tube dress that hugged her hourglass figure and revealed her trim shoulders and the upper swells of her full chest; she watched as I struggled not to look at her body. “Who do you see for a PCP?”

“uh…” I began, trying to recall my last visit to a doctor’s office outside of this one, “…no one?”

“You mean…” Vida asked with exaggerated concern, as she herself put a hand on my other shoulder, leaning in to me and twirling a lock of thick, raven hair, “you don’t have a Primary??”

“N-no I, uh-“

”Well, that’s no good,” Vida concluded, standing straight and looking across me at her fellow nurse, “Don't you agree, Morgan?”

”Oh yes,” Morgan concurred, her dimpled smile betraying her amusement, stepping a touch closer, “You need the primary...care...provider.”

“That settles it,” Vida decided, removing her right hand from me to place both it and her left one on her broad hips, in determination, “I’m going to be your PCP from now on.” Her action had drawn my eyes to her remarkably tiny waist and shit this girl had some curves. “I’ll contact our insurance company, do all the paperwork. How does that sound?”

The big woman to my right was giggling, and her hand had begun to idly caress my shoulder.

“Uh, th-that’s fine…” I agreed.

“So,” Vida finally asked, with a wry smile, “does my patient have any questions before we get started?”

Ugh, right…the injection. “Well, um, honestly…” I began, knowing I should at least address the concerns I had over this combo B12/D/K formulation, “I’m not sure it’s working. I think I’ve lost weight since last week, and even maybe almost an inch…”

“That’s ridiculous. You must have measured wrong last time, used a bad scale,” Vida replied, trying to reassure me, “But…do you think you need to go out and get checked..?”

At that, Vida herself moved in closer, and I saw Morgan, to my right, turn her thick body more towards me. Both women looked down at me.

“Or do you want to let us take care of you..?” Vida finished. It felt like a challenge, and I sensed something, an inner struggle inside myself. The logical, intelligent practitioner who cared for his health wanted to answer one way, bring a halt to something that was dangerous, possibly ruining my life. But another part of me, the one that was feeling the cock growing once again down my right thigh in tribute to the ever-more enveloping warmth of these women, just wanted to say-

“n-no…I think I’m alright,” I answered, “let’s go ahead with the shot. I’ll be fine.”

If I had known then what I know now, that my mental capacity for rational thought in the face of arousal had been already crippled by foreign agents? If I had known that I was being purposefully enslaved, drowned more and more every day in the sea of pheromones and womanly curves in which I swam? WelI, I would have run screaming. Or, then again...would I?.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Vida assured me. Her voice had dropped low, almost hypnotic, “You don’t need to go out and see any other specialists. We’ve got everything you need right here…” She was beginning to prepare the injection, now, drawing the blue liquid from the vial up into the syringe.

“Yes, everything,” Morgan agreed, looming over me now so close to my right, her hips and belly blocking out the world behind her. Her scent was warm, earthy. Between it and Vida’s reassuring tone, I felt powerless to do anything but trust these women.

“But,” Vida began again, inspecting the now-filled glass syringe, “if you are still shrinking, lots of guys would be jealous. Don’t you think, Morgan? Here, take this-” She handed a band-aid across me to her fellow nurse.

wh-what?

“Oh, yes,” Morgan concurred, her voice husky, unwrapping the band-aid, preparing it, “very jealous.”

”What…what do you mean?” I asked, confused, looking from one woman to the next, up at them. Without even being told, I had begun rolling up my sleeve.

Vida chuckled. “Oh, you know, the whole ‘vulni-chic’ thing,” she answered, holding the prepared injection now in her right hand, “you’d get very popular if you lost another-“

“One meter?” Morgan said, giggling in her deeper, richer tone, “Two?”

“haha I’d disappear…” I joked, feeling a wave of warmth coming from Morgan’s body to my right, “just like, haha…”

“It’s not a joke, Dr. J,” Vida said, her voice plain, suddenly, clinical, “it’s a thing. Here, get ready-“

“Ouch!!!”

She’d jabbed me, in the left shoulder, with the shot.

Vida spoke as she pressed the plunger, pushing the blue liquid into my deltoid. “It’s not just a fad for women, guys these days are admitting it, too…” she said as she drew the needle out of my arm. Immediately I’d felt it entering my body, like a milky warmth. “Good boy,” she praised, “Band aid?”

“Thanks,” I replied without thinking, watching as Morgan leaned her big torso across me as I turned in my chair towards her, presenting my left shoulder. She was nearly smothering me with her big breasts as she applied the bandage, and I did everything I could not to goggle at the wobbling flesh of her full, tan cleavage. My roving eyes made me realize that this generously endowed woman was wearing a very thin bra, or possibly none at all. Somehow, though, she was still so firm, with a natural buoyancy that kept her tits high and proud on her chest. My gaze could not get enough. But then eyes fluttered as I was assaulted by both an overwhelming breath of her perfume and the first rush of pleasure from the shot. I began to lower my sleeve, rubbing my arm as I looked up at her, smiling down at me as she finally stood up and away.

“I mean it, with the shrinking,” Vida started again, watching me with an appraising eye as I recovered from my shot, buttoned my sleeve, “have you seen Melissa’s new Instagram post?”

With the butterflies? I didn’t want to admit anything.

“The guys that follow her, the simps,” she continued, “they talk about wanting to be like bugs, crawling into her breasts.” She was replacing the syringe, carefully putting it and the vial back into the box. “It’s all over the place, everywhere, though no ones really talking about it yet,” she said, as she closed the black container, “guys wanting to be smaller, weaker than us. Wanting to become inferior, more passive, more submissive.”

She looked down at me and smiled, watching as the effects of the injection began to take hold. Even more strongly than last time, I was being gripped by a pleasant wave of lethargy, relaxation.

“Guys want to be small, these days,” Vida said, “and we’d like it that way too, wouldn’t we, Morgan?””

To my right I heard Morgan purr, a little grunt. “Yes, Nurse Vida,” she said, her voice low and struggling with arousal, “we would like it very much.” I had the feeling she was holding back her true feelings, in restrained understatement.

Vida laughed, casually. “It’s weird, all these changes in gender dynamics,” she continued, brushing a lock of my hair behind my left ear, “the new thing is bigger women, smaller men. Here, look at Morgan, perfect example…”

I turned, looked up at the smiling behemoth of a woman.

“She’s probably bigger than you ever were,” Vida continued, “taller, heavier, thicker everywhere.”

“Yes,” Morgan agreed, seeming to rise up, grow bigger, heavier, right in front of my eyes, “I weigh much, much more than the you.”

“And, you have to admit…” Vida asked, watching me look up at the huge, busty blond woman, who was now absolutely dwarfing me in my seat and could probably lift me like a child, “that’s kinda sexy, right?”

“I, uh….” I began, not knowing what to say. My erection was getting painful, now, contorted as it was in my pants, trying to stretch down my right thigh.

Vida spoke again, now holding my head in place by my cheek and jaw, so all I saw was Morgan. “So, even if you are getting smaller...lots of us would like that.”

I sat there, in the building afterglow of my injection, and looked at this woman’s body. It was, in all ways, so much bigger than my own. Thicker thighs, wider hips. Her arms were stronger than mine, her shoulders broader. Standing aside her, I would look puny. Even Vida - though she stood roughly my height, maybe an inch or two more - her hourglass figure and womanly hips made her body just that much more than mine.

”Dr. J,” Vida said, pulling me from my reverie, but not releasing my face from her hand’s gentle embrace, “You look like you need to go lay down. We’d take you up to bed ourselves but we have an important girl meeting to get to, don’t we Morgan?”

“Yes,” Morgan replied, though never taking her eyes or dimpled smile from me, “Very important.” I watched as she looked down on me, regarded me, considered me. “But I promise. Next time you can go to the sleep in my lap,” she said, “I have a very nice lap.” With that, Morgan bent at the waist a bit, to gently slap her prodigious thighs. My eyes watched them jiggle, and then her hands come up to the collar of her blouse, hoisting her breasts. “Or, if not on lap, we find somewhere else…”

“Haha okay,” Vida laughed, finally releasing my head but smiling as I didn’t turn away from the cleavage into which I was now dumbly gazing, in my vitamin-fueled haze imagining myself sinking into it like a caterpillar, cocooned in womanly warmth. “I’ll get a couple of the MA’s to get you upstairs…”

=========================================

more Vida & Morgan imagery, more posts, more more more at my Patreon.

Thanks for reading, everyone.

[teawaffles]

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 5, Part 1

Note: This is a long chapter too!

Gregson squared his shoulders as he walked.

“I don’t really want to team up with you; but anyway, we have no choice but to solve this quickly. Now it’s time for me to show my stuff after fighting crime day after day in this capital.”

“I’ve thought about it every time we’ve met — but where do you get that confidence from?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he followed behind him. Then, Gregson turned around.

“Oi, that big attitude of yours is probably because the inspector called you in; but I’m the one who messed up here, so I have to take responsibility myself. Don’t butt in unless you’re needed.”

“I know, I know.”

More than anything, the personality of this assistant inspector he’d come to know all too well brought Sherlock a sense of relief. In addition, his words and actions revealed his pride as a police officer, and Sherlock quite liked that.

“Come to think of it, did you really not find out anything during the interrogation?”

Gregson replied without slowing his pace.

“Well, I can’t say that we didn’t learn anything. He told us how he’d come to hide in that building, but refused to say a word on where his accomplice was.”

“So how did he arrive at the inn?”

“From what we heard, after they escaped, the two of them had been moving from place to place in the slums. They first laid low somewhere, but quickly got wind that the Yard was searching the area; hence, they ran off searching for a new place to hide — and ended up at that inn.”

“So does it mean that at the time, the Yard had been able to track them down to some extent?”

Gregson snorted in displeasure.

“Not a whit. It’s disgraceful, but so far, we haven’t been able to trace their whereabouts one bit. Right now, our only lead is that tip-off; in other words, the two of them were just misled by rumours that the police were coming.”

“…………”

Gregson seemed to be pitying the fugitives for the days they’d spent in fear, but Sherlock’s mind was elsewhere.

The criminals had been flushed from their hideout using false information, and ended up at a particular location. At the same time, information had conveniently come the Yard’s way, as if someone had meant for them to arrive at the same place. His intuition told him the situation could not be written off as a mere coincidence.

——Could the Lord of Crime be involved in this case? But if he was, then for what reason?

Sherlock began to think over that question; but before he could reach a satisfactory answer, the two of them had arrived before a different inn, located a short distance from the site of the fire.

“Now, the suspects have been gathered here on the ground floor — please be quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Temporarily switching his focus, Sherlock replied half-heartedly. Then, with his sullen expression still intact, Gregson stepped into the inn.

Inside, there were several police officers, three men with bandaged faces, and a tall middle-aged woman, who stood firm with crossed arms.

Looking over everyone in the room, Gregson cleared his throat, and spoke in a loud voice.

“Well then, I’ll cut to the chase. ——The culprit is among us.”

“…………”

However, not one person reacted. He was simply stating a fact, but perhaps his entrance had been too sudden, and that pronouncement a tad abrupt.

Looking a little embarrassed after his brave proclamation, Gregson cleared his throat once more, and started again.

“……That’s what we’ve concluded after careful discussion. To begin with, let’s start from these three men gathered here.”

“——Hold on, Inspector! Before that, don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Hm?”

The middle-aged woman took a step forward as she raised her voice, and Gregson turned to face her.

“You are… the owner of that inn.”

“The very one that got burned down, yes! My name is Hillary Weaver — you’d best remember it, since it’s the name of the victim who'll eventually charge you people for expensive repairs.” [1]

Her high-pitched voice was almost akin to that of a witch casting spells. Gregson flinched, taking a step back.

“W-……Why do we have to pay for damages?!”

“Of course you do: the moment all of you came along, my inn disappeared.”

“That’s not true! The one at fault here is the arsonist — the Yard had nothing to do with that!”

“What’re you saying? I’m sure you people sparked it all off. Quit whining and give me back that place of comfort!”

“What part of that wretched inn could be called comfortable?! It’d be more pleasant being buried in straw! When we were interrogating the other man, the floorboards were creaking so badly I thought we were going to fall through the floor any moment!"

“That’s because all of you came in at once! Spare a thought for the building capacity!”

“Are you telling me your rooms reach their limit after just a few people step inside?!”

“…………”

As Gregson and Hillary — the inn’s proprietress — were engaged in a row that was completely beside the point, Sherlock turned his attention to the three suspects.

The first was a burly man. The left half of his face was wrapped in bandages, and his long sleeves were rolled up.

The second was a slim young man with short sleeves. The lower half of his face was bandaged down to his neck.

The last was a tall man of indeterminate age. He wore a thick coat, and his entire face was swathed in bandages.

Three men, three suspects. Right as the detective used his powers of observation on them, Gregson signalled his men to get Hillary to back down, forcing the argument to a close.

“……Dammit, was she silver-tongued. Now I’ve wasted energy.”

His shoulders were heaving, and Sherlock flashed him a cold smile.

“If the talk show’s finally over, then let’s get on with the questioning. We’re short on time.”

“I know! ……Well then, let’s start from the big man over there, and proceed in order.”

Gregson addressed the burly man.

“Tell us your name, the room you were staying in, and what you were doing when the fire broke out.”

“My name’s Mike Myers. I was in room 203, on the first floor. When the fire broke out, I was in my room reading a book. It was from one of my favourite authors, but all my belongings were destroyed in the blaze.”

The man answered in a deep voice that matched his appearance.

Gregson took down the information on a notepad, and moved on to the next man.

“Next, the slim man over there.”

The young man promptly sat up straight.

“Y-Yes, um, my name is Bruno Campbell. My room was…… number 301, on the second floor. At the time of the fire, um…… I was sleeping right until it started. Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise. Next.”

Gregson turned to face the last man.

“……Jerry Dorff. Room 101. I was asleep.”

The man who called himself Jerry murmured that in a low voice, uttering only the minimum number of words.

“101…… The ground floor, huh. So all your rooms were on precisely separate floors.”

Once he’d ascertained the suspects’ rooms, Gregson quickly sketched the inn’s floor plan on his notepad.

According to his diagram, on the ground floor, there was a staircase next to the reception desk, and three rooms in a row behind it. Starting from the one closest to the front desk, the rooms were numbered 101, 102, and 103. Further to the back, there was another set of stairs. The other floors had the same layout; it had been a simply-structured inn.

The reception desk, the front stairs, three rooms in a row, and the rear stairs. All the rooms had their doors on the south side of the building, and their windows on the north side. Sherlock craftily took a peek at his drawing, memorising the layout, and applied the locations of the three suspects to his mental picture.

“It seems all of you were in your own rooms when the fire started; but before that, did you stay in your rooms throughout?”

Mike spoke up.

“I never even took a step outside my room after you bobbies entered the building. After all, one of the criminals from that attack on the department store was lurking inside, right? I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I made a wrong move and ended up getting suspected.”

“I-It was the same for me: I tried to avoid moving around as much as possible.”

“Me too.”

The timid young man, Bruno, and the taciturn Jerry both agreed with Mike.

“So you all didn’t leave your rooms, let alone the inn. ——Is that certain?”

Gregson asked one of the officers standing beside him, and the man responded with vigour.

“Yes; I was standing in front of room 303 at first, and two others were standing watch in the ground and first floor corridors — we didn’t see a single person leave their room.”

Sherlock had been listening from the side, and now he pointed to the officer and Gregson in turn.

“So during the break in the interrogation, Gregson took over from you in standing watch outside the room.”

“Indeed.”

“Oi, Holmes. I told you not to butt in.”

Ignoring Gregson’s complaint, Sherlock made a deduction.

“So no one was moving around during the interrogation. Then during the break, the man was left alone in the room. Since no one heard any suspicious noises, it would be difficult to conclude that there had been movement inside the room. In that case, as I thought, the criminal must’ve made his move after the fire began.”

“A-As I was saying, don’t talk without permission.”

“……We don’t have time for that kind of thing. From what you said earlier, it seems you were standing outside the room until the fire began — were you also standing watch throughout after it started?”

Reluctantly, Gregson revealed his actions at the time.

“……No, when I got news of the fire, I went to the stairs nearer the reception to check out the situation. I climbed down until I could see the ground floor, and saw that the corridor there had already been covered in flames; so I quickly shouted for everyone to evacuate as I went back up to the second floor, in order to free the man we had arrested.”

“Did you go door to door when telling people to evacuate?”

“There wasn’t any time for that: the best I could do was to shout in every corridor as I rushed up the stairs.”

“I see. By the way, do we know where the fire originated?”

One of the officers standing to the side responded.

“I was outside the building at the time, but back then, part of the ground floor’s exterior north wall suddenly burst into flames. Though, I can’t say I had witnessed the moment the fire was set.”

“……Oi.”

The officer had readily given information to the detective he so hated, and Gregson glared at him. But as expected, Sherlock continued as if nothing had happened.

“Even so, the mob had surrounded the inn at the time, didn’t they? Was there really no one who saw exactly what happened?”

“The crowd had been rather large, so we couldn’t interview everyone who was there……” the officer responded briskly. “But we didn’t receive any eyewitness accounts of the arsonist.”

Even as he threw a displeased glance at his subordinate, Gregson thought hard.

“In that case, what if he used a device that automatically ignited the fire after a certain amount of time?” he offered.

“That’s one possibility,” Sherlock added. “It doesn’t have to be automatic either; he could’ve sprinkled flammable oil around the area beforehand, then sneaked out the window, climbed down the wall, and thrown a tiny spark — like the cinders of a match — through a window. Just like this, he’d be able to ignite the fire without drawing attention. It started from the north wall, right?”

“Yes, the wall where all the rooms’ windows are lined up,” the officer replied.

Sherlock gazed at the three men.

“In that case, that means any one of you could be the arsonist himself. But the question remains: after the fire began, how did the culprit manage to kill his accomplice in room 303, and create a locked-room murder case without anyone noticing?”

“…………”

In a way, this was the biggest ‘riddle’ in the case; all the officers, including Gregson, fell silent. In this situation, how should they proceed? Sherlock too pondered that question.

——“Oi, Sherlock. This is just my opinion, but……”

Amidst the long silence, the voice of Sherlock’s partner rang out in his mind.

——“When the fire started, Inspector Gregson went down the stairs until he was almost at the ground floor, right? During that time, there probably wasn’t anyone in the second floor corridor. Since Bruno-kun was also on that floor, I think he’s the most suspicious……. Hold on. If Mr Mike climbed up the rear staircase from the first floor, he would’ve been able to avoid the inspector and reach the second floor. Moreover, Mr Jerry was on the ground floor to begin with, so you could say he was in the most convenient location to start the fire……. Oh my, I’m starting to think all of them are suspicious.”

Sherlock could easily picture John getting confused by his own theories; gently, the corners of his mouth creased into a smile.

Then Gregson flashed Sherlock a bold grin as he spoke.

“Oi, Holmes. When I went down the stairs till I was nearly at the ground floor, there probably wasn’t anyone left in the second floor corridor. In that case, since he was on the same floor, Bruno would be the most suspicious. Fufu, as I thought, there was no need to bring you on this ca…… Hm, hold on. If Mike used the other staircase, he could’ve reached the second floor without me noticing. But Jerry’s room was on the ground floor, so it would’ve been easy to start the fire there…… Dammit, now we can’t narrow it down.”

“…………”

Strangely enough, the assistant inspector had unfortunately put forward the same theory, erasing John’s face from Sherlock’s mind once again.

Then, Mike also put forward his own theory.

“Hey, certainly, it makes sense that any one of us could’ve went up to the victim’s room. But wasn’t the door locked?”

“H-He could’ve been shot or stabbed through the door, but from what I heard, there wasn’t any evidence of that, right? M-Maybe after he killed him, the murderer locked the door again from the outside?”

Bruno also proposed a theory, but Mike was sceptical.

“The fire was going to burn everything down anyway, so why would he bother to do that?”

“I-In that case, maybe the killer opened the door to attack him, b-but the victim suddenly closed the door to try and protect himself?”

“Yeah, that might be possible. So when the wound proved fatal, it ended up looking like a locked-room murder. That makes a fair bit of sense; well, what do you think?”

“……I don’t know.”

Mike’s words had started a frank exchange of theories among the three suspects. Sherlock seemed to be listening with great interest, but Gregson seemed annoyed.

“Oi, don’t talk as you please: this is a matter for the Yard to examine. In the first place, it’s not clear whether it was a stab or shot wound……”

Hearing that, Sherlock spoke up.

“If he’d been done in with a gun, there probably would’ve been the sound of a gunshot. Though with a bit of effort, the sound could’ve been suppressed…… Did anyone hear any strange sounds?”

Bruno, who by chance happened to meet Sherlock’s gaze, responded.

“I heard someone shouting ‘Fire!’ from the outside, then flew out of bed, but I don’t remember anything after that…… Oh right: during the commotion, I think I heard something breaking once or twice.”

The timid young man had given an important testimony, but the burly man disputed that.

“Is that so? I was awake the whole time, but I didn’t hear anything?”

Even Mike’s usual appearance was intimidating; hearing that, Bruno shrank back.

“R-Right. It was probably just the sound of the wood snapping as it burnt.”

“……I can’t say either way. After all, everyone was confused and in chaos.”

Jerry also gave a vague testimony, and Gregson ruffled his hair in frustration.

“We don’t even know if there was a gunshot — it feels like we don’t have a single lead at all.”

“But if the killer had fired a gun in room 303, since he was on the same floor, Bruno probably would’ve heard it — though he himself isn’t clear on that.”

“……I knew that already; you didn’t have to say it.”

“Even though you’re making a face like that was a revelation?”

Sherlock poked a little fun at Gregson, then continued questioning the suspects.

“All of you are bandaged up rather pitifully — are they injuries from the fire earlier?”

“Yeah, I got burned while escaping; It’s not life-threatening, though.”

“It’s the same for me: when I reached the ground floor, it was already covered in flames, and when I tried to escape, I tripped and fell…… It was just my luck that the spot I landed on was aflame, so I ended up getting burned around my neck.”

Two of the suspects had explained how they got their injuries, but only one person remained in silence, his gaze slightly lowered. Of course, the detective probed further.

“Mr Jerry. Is your story the same?”

The man looked up at him. Then, after hesitating a little, he muttered briefly.

“……These are from an accident a long time ago. They have nothing to do with the fire.”

Saying that, he pulled his thick coat closer, obscuring his mouth. That caught Gregson’s attention.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but only you’ve seemed rather reluctant to speak. It feels like you don’t want to have anything to do with this case.”

Sherlock had also gotten the same impression; in contrast to the other two, who had even made their own deductions, it seemed this man was trying to withhold information about himself.

As both the detective and inspector fixed their gazes on him, eventually, Jerry explained himself in a low voice.

“I don’t like people prying into my affairs. But that’s because of my own personal situation; it has nothing to do with this case.”

“Why’s that? Could you be hiding important evidence from us?”

“…………”

Gregson tried to press him further, but Jerry remained silent, his intentions unreadable.

His actions were clearly suspicious, but Sherlock’s intuition told him the man had definitely been telling the truth. Jerry had answered all their questions properly; in addition, he couldn’t sense any hostility to the police emanating from the man.

However, Gregson tended to interpret such behaviour in the wrong way. Sherlock had to steer the conversation down a different path before the inspector made any needless accusations — so he called out to the inn’s proprietress, who had been waiting silently in a corner.

Footnotes:

[1] No relation to Jackie Weaver, the unexpected star of the Handforth parish council: this book was published end-2020, and that incident was in early-2021. (The Guardian)

[flightfoot]

Secrets, Lies, and Hope

AO3 Thanks to pjomlb23 for betaing! ----

Alya hummed to herself as she walked, looking at the newest footage some helpful Parisians had sent her of the latest akuma fight. 

Ladybug almost getting hit by the latest akuma, Chat Noir knocking her out of the way just in time, Ladybug casting her Lucky Charm, and the two of them using their superb teamwork to take out the villain - nothing unusual.

Yet everything had changed.

Because that wasn’t just Ladybug - superhero of Paris, her idol, and part-time teammate. It was also Marinette, rising fashion designer, lovestruck teen, and her full-time best friend.

The revelation of Ladybug’s identity and the true source of Marinette’s troubles hadn’t been as much of a surprise as she was expecting. She’d been involved with Ladybug right from the get-go, filming their very first akuma fight against Stoneheart. Over the course of Hawkmoth's reign of terror she’d gotten to know Ladybug as more than a superhero to film from afar, but as a good friend, one who was kind, caring, and clever.

As for Marinette… well, she’d been involved in many of her crazy schemes. Heck, she helped Marinette come up with Operation Secret Garden! Her taking those same schemes to akuma fights wasn’t that much of a stretch.

Her leadership skills as Ladybug weren’t a shocker either. With how calm and collected she’d been during the Darkblade fight, organizing the rest of the class to try to keep them safe, she’d demonstrated those in spades.

Once Marinette confessed, it all came together.

What could she do but give her friend - her friend twice-over in fact - a hug?

After that they’d talked for awhile, Marinette finally getting everything off her chest, for real this time, as well as telling her about some Guardian-related things she hadn’t known about before.

Her theory about there even BEING Guardians was totally correct! Point one for Alya!

She winced. ...And take away a score for hastily posting her theories on the Ladyblog, where anyone - including Hawkmoth - could read them. 

At least now she could tell Ladybug about her theories directly, and who knew - maybe even help her unmask mister Butterfly Butt! She’d already uncovered one Miraculous wielder after all. (Though she doubted Hawkmoth was quite as obviously… well, HAWKMOTH in his civilian life, as Carapace was obviously Nino).

*bump*

“OW!”

“OOOPH!”

Alya collided with someone, getting knocked to the ground. She shook her head, dazed. 

When she looked up, a sheathed fencing foil pointed at her face.

Kagami’s eyes widened as she registered Alya’s face, and that she was not a threat. Immediately she put away her foil. “I am sorry, Alya,” she said, turning away from her briskly.

Alya frowned. Kagami could be pretty standoffish, but she’d been opening up more as she spent time around other kids - especially Adrien. 

But now, she seemed as cold and detached as her initial Ice Queen reputation had suggested.

Something was definitely wrong. 

“Kagami!” 

She stopped, turning her head slightly. “What is it?”

Alya walked over to her. “I just wanted to talk. We’ve seen each other on-and-off and I’d like to get to know you better.”

Kagami turned away, facing forward, pointedly not looking at her. “I am not looking for any more friends.”

She said that last word harshly, venomously.

“Everyone needs friends,” Alya told her gently.

Kagami shook her head. “Not me. Mother was right. It only leads to disappointment - and even more when you try to become lovers”.

Oh.

Marinette was not the only girl suffering from a broken heart it seemed.

“Did something happen with Adrien?” Alya guessed. She hadn’t heard anything about Kagami and Adrien dating, but then again, she hadn’t known that Luka and Marinette were together either until Luka showed up at Marinette’s house during that call. 

Were all her friends dating on the down-low?

Kagami sat down on a nearby bench, staring down at her feet. “I knew he had reservations. He’s pulled away from me before, saying he wasn’t ready yet.”

She clenched her skirt, her fingers tightening. “If he didn’t want to spend time with me - if he’d rather be somewhere else - he could have just told me so. Should have told me, instead of just feeding me LIES!” 

Alya blinked, taken aback by Kagami’s sudden outburst. “Lies? About?”

That explained Kagami’s akumatization the other day at least. Multiple akumas on the same day weren’t exactly unknown, but two of them being her peers was more unusual - usually it was just Mr. Pigeon and some other random Parisian. 

She knew full well why Luka was akumatized of course, but hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to dive into Kagami’s akumatization, though she’d had people send info about it to the Ladyblog. She’d been a little too busy trying to puzzle out why Marinette hadn’t told her about the breakup with Luka, and then reassembling her entire worldview after that earth-shattering conversation where Marinette confessed her secret.

“Mother doesn’t like me associating with other teens for too long. She doesn’t think it’s productive. But I’d sneak around, rearrange schedules, lie so that Adrien and I could spend more time together than normally allowed, could do things besides simply fencing. We’d meet up early so we could hang out in the art room, have our drivers ‘happen’ to sync up cars for a kiss, even sneak out for ice cream! But he ditched me. Constantly. Making up excuses. Not even trying to look at me as he left!” Her voice cracked.

Alya tilted her head. “That doesn’t make sense,” she said slowly, puzzling out Kagami’s words. “Adrien loves spending time with people.”

Kagami turned away. “Not with me it seems. He dropped some bracelet while we were on the Couffaine’s houseboat. I picked it up, intending to return it to him later… after a small test.”

Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Next time I saw him, I asked whether he’d found what he was looking for. He said yes.”

Kagami’s teeth ground. “A moment later he realized it wasn’t on him, and he claimed he must’ve lost it again. If I hadn’t been holding the object in his hand, I would have believed him - he’s that good a liar.”

That- that didn’t fit with the Adrien she knew. But she didn’t think Kagami was lying either.

“Do you have any idea why he’d lie?” 

Kagami shook her head. “I thought about him cheating, I know he has a crush on another girl, but-”

“WHAT?!”

Marinette had told her about the ride back from the museum, how Adrien had talked about the “girl he loved”. They’d both assumed that was Kagami.

But Adrien hadn’t actually said the girl’s name.

Was there someone else in Adrien’s life?

Kagami raised an eyebrow. “Is it really such a surprise? Granted I thought it was Marinette for awhile, what with the way he looks at her-”

Oh, Alya knew. She’d seen the doe eyes Adrien sent at Marinette anytime she did… well, anything really, and that boy needed only the slightest prompting to start waxing lyrical about how amazing Marinette was. 

“-but it quickly became apparent that Adrien had never asked Marinette out, and he had asked out this other girl, so it couldn’t be her,” Kagami concluded.

Alya furrowed her brow. “A girl that even Marinette doesn’t know about?” she wondered out loud. “How is that even possible? Heck, even Nino doesn’t know her!”

Adrien didn’t exactly get a lot of opportunities to talk to other kids - his father made sure of that. And he didn’t seem the type to fall for someone just based on their looks and two minutes of conversation, at least not long-term. 

“I don’t think he was actually cheating,” Kagami said. “He may be a liar, but I couldn’t see him doing that. I still get this sense of sincerity from him, even after that. He sees others as people, and is too empathetic for me to believe he’d do that. I got the sense that he didn’t want to lie, even if he was good at it.”

Alya nodded. “Yeah, I can’t see Adrien doing that. Not that I could see him lying either, but… something just seems off.”

She’d considered that she’d might have totally misjudged what type of person Adrien was in the past, when ‘Adrien’ sent back a nasty video reply on the anniversary of his mother’s death. 

The evidence was right there in front of her, after all.

But she’d been wrong that day. Adrien had been the kind of person he’d been shown to be over the past few months, was kind, sincere, and loved his friends. 

So if she assumed that Adrien had good intentions, that he wasn’t being awful to Kagami, that he had a good reason for always needing to ditch and make up excuses-

WAIT.

She gripped Kagami’s shoulders. “When exactly did he need to ditch? Like, what times?” she said urgently.

Kagami narrowed her eyes, giving Alya a searching look. “It changed from day to day, it was never consistent.”

“Then how about that last day you two were together? When exactly did he leave?”

Kagami hummed for a moment. “I’m not sure of the exact clock time, but… well, you saw him arrive late to that Kitty Section concert. Just a few minutes after we left the boat, we were talking, but he seemed distracted. He kept on looking behind me. I actually checked myself, but I didn’t see anything there. That’s when he made up the lie about the bracelet and raced off.”

Adrien arrived late to the Kitty Section concert… the same one Marinette was late to.

Adrien had to beat a hasty retreat from Kagami a few minutes after he’d left the Couffaine’s houseboat… which was about the time Truth showed up.

Ladybug had turned out to be Alya’s best friend. What were the chances that Chat Noir was also someone she knew?

“Are you going to tell me what you figured out?” Kagami asked her flatly.

Alya blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Figured out? Figured what out?”

“Don’t lie.” Kagami said harshly. “I’ve endured enough of that already.”

Alya winced. “Ok, yes, I figured something out. At least I think I did. I haven’t confirmed it, and I’m not sure I’m going to. If I’m right, then Adrien had to lie and ditch and make up those excuses, and couldn’t tell anyone safely. That’s why I’m not sure about digging further. Me knowing would be dangerous too.”

Kagami’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is he in danger?”

Alya mulled that over. “...Sort of? Yes.” Noticing Kagami putting her hand on the hilt of her blade, she hastily added, “but it’s not a danger you can save him from!”

“Do not underestimate me,” Kagami said, her voice low and dangerous. 

Considering that Kagami tried to assault Desperada with a mic stand as soon as she was in range, she might have a point.

“He’s ok for now,” Alya tried to assure her. “He has some solid backup.”

“And that doesn’t include me?” Kagami asked.

Well, actually, it does sometimes, Alya wanted to say. But that would be too much of a giveaway.

Was this what Marinette felt like all those times she had to conceal her Ladybug knowledge? It sucked.

Kagami pulled away. “I can’t do this. I already had one person keeping secrets from me. I don’t need another.”

As Kagami walked away, Alya reached out a hand… and retracted it.

She was right. Kagami had been hurt enough by secrets and lies. As much as Alya would love to be totally honest with Kagami, to bring her into the loop… she just couldn’t. It was too dangerous and not her call anyway.

But Kagami needed someone. She was more alone than anyone else she knew, especially since her relationship with Adrien ended.

Hm… 

Maybe Kagami couldn’t spend that much time with others as Kagami...

But Ryuuko was a different story.

And if Marinette could bring back Rena Rouge even after having her identity exposed… why not? At least getting her occasionally. 

Alya turned to head towards the bakery.

Hopefully soon, the dragon would rejoin the cat and ladybug in protecting Paris, getting to spend time with her friends once again.

This time, at least getting to know why there were secrets between them, even if those secrets had to remain.

[pparkerpoetry]

Heart of Gears and Gold

Summary: "Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long."

-or-

Nook wasn't made with a heart or the capacity to love, but he does it anyway.

Tommy goes missing, they tell him that it's a vacation.

Sam Nook needs to know the truth.

____________

i made this yesterday but i forgot to post it here, so...

___________

Sam Nook was the result of redbull and the determination to be better on a Friday night as Awesamdude fought off the remnants of a hangover. He hadn’t even been named, really, and had been sitting in a corner growing cobwebs since he’d been made. Awesamdude had intended for him to stay there, because what was the need for a little robot pal in a land where fires raged and wars were waged every other month, at best? No, the world was a cruel one, and it was no place for Sam Nook. 

The cobwebs were dusted away one day, long after his creation. Or so it seemed. Time passed slowly when Nook spent his days in the dark of a closet. 

Nook wasn’t sure why he’d been put into use, initially, but Sam had the habit of talking while he worked on improving and upgrading his body. Nook was meant to help a child named Tommy, who Sam spoke of very fondly. The days in the workshop passed and Nook learned about the child.

Tommy didn’t have a good past, Nook discovered. He’d been raised on fields of blood and taught how to fight instead of which manners to use when. He’d been given a sword instead of a toy and told to survive instead of learning how to grow and to cope. Tommy was made of iron and steel, and though Nook knew it was all metaphorical, he couldn’t help but feel happy that there was someone like him.

Sam was nice. Sam just didn’t know how much of a genius he was, and since he had no clue that his robot was aware, instead of being truly able to speak, Nook was trapped in a little metal cage, stuck and still. 

The day that Nook was given a voice? 

He wouldn’t stop using it. It wasn’t a human voice, but it was unique. He liked it. It was his own, and Nook liked having something for himself. It wasn’t long before Sam sent him off to monitor Tommy’s healing, his recovering, his lessons on responsibility.

Nook had been given a voice, but he had never been given a heart. So why was it that he cared so much? He wasn’t sure. But he liked Tommy. Tommy was conflicted, and hurt, and Nook knew how gentle to be so that Tommy would trust him but wouldn’t take advantage of him. He wasn’t quite able to fathom the power he held, being so close to Tommy, but he knew that if that power had fallen into the wrong hands another time, Nook never would have been improved. What need is there for a babysitter when there is no baby?

He didn’t like thinking about death. It was one of the things he was confused about, and though many things fell under that category, Nook didn’t like death. Tommy spoke of death sometimes. Of his older brother who wasn’t really his brother, but it felt like it, because we were really close and always had each other’s backs- Nook thought that Tommy’s words were an awfully long way to say that he was still grieving. He didn’t mind. His job was to help Tommy, not to fix someone that didn’t need fixing, but support.

Tommy spoke of death a lot. It wasn’t always about Wilbur (Nook learned at one point that Wilbur was the name of the older brother. He thought it was Technoblade, but when he mentioned it to Sam, Sam had said Technoblade was still alive. How many brothers did Tommy have?), and Nook liked death even less when Tommy spoke about death in relation to himself. Nook didn’t want to think of Tommy dead. Tommy was his friend, and he would always be there for Tommy. Wasn’t that enough?

Of course, Nook knew that there was more than the simple life that he led. He never had to sleep, he just sat on his charging station overnight while he waited for the sun and for the child that always bounded up the hill as soon as the light hit the land, eyes dull and face sunken. Tommy had his bad days, so Nook always kept easier tasks on the side to give him. 

Oh, the chest needs organizing. Oh, the hotel needs an infinite water source. Oh-

Tommy never caught on. Nook made sure of it, and although there was one bad day that he’d given Tommy a real task (I need hearts of the sea-), he made sure to be careful with the teen. No loud noises, no sudden movements, no being over-top-nice. Tommy had triggers. He’d asked Sam once why Tommy was so jumpy, but Sam’s eyes had turned dark and he had left. Nook didn’t ask anymore, but he figured it had something to do with the prisoner contained in the prison that loomed ominously in the distance. 

The prison made Nook uneasy.

Days had passed by, and he grew more protective of Tommy. He wasn’t supposed to. Nook’s whole existence was to help Tommy, yes, but not to this extent. Once or twice Nook wondered if he was becoming more alive, but he didn’t want to think about it. Humanity hurt, and he had heard tales of pain more than anything. Nightmares that plagued their minds, or the injuries that they did to each other-

Jack Manifold was someone to be wary around. He’d tried to kill Tommy a few times, and though he was skilled in playing it off as a joke, Nook didn’t miss the fury that burned behind the multi-colored sunglasses. 

Badboyhalo was another on Nook’s mental list of… enemies? No, that wasn’t the right word. What was the right word? Maybe he’d ask Sam. Or Tommy. But Tommy said Jack was a friend, so what was his opinion on Bad? 

Nook had learned that Bad was on the side of the crimson vines that edged their way onto the property. Nook wasn’t programmed to show fear, but he wasn’t created with a capacity for love, either. 

The egg scared him.

As much as he hated to admit it, the egg terrified him. It got Bad into places he shouldn’t have been able to. 

Puffy was a good one, though. Nook liked her smile. She was always nice to Tommy and while she wasn’t as good at hiding her pain as she thought, she helped others. Nook didn’t know what had happened to make her so sad, but everyone was sad those days. Puffy, Nook decided, would get a discount if she ever bought a room at the Big Innit Hotel.

Nook’s days were simple. In the mornings, he’d get off of his charging station and head to the hotel, getting a few hours of building in without Sam if he finished charging early enough. Some days, Tommy would come running after that, other days he’d walk, others he didn’t show at all. Nook didn’t like the days that passed by without the familiar mop of blond hair and the loud swears that he had to hide a laugh at. 

Tommy made Nook feel alive, and some days, he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.

After Sam and himself finished the hotel, Nook had been excited. Tommy had been looking forward to this for ages, and he hoped that it was good enough.

Nook didn’t like the feeling of doubt that wormed its way through his gears. He hadn’t been programmed to doubt anything, he reminded himself, and code didn’t lie. Humans lied.

One morning, Nook was just loitering around the hotel, since he’d had a lot of free time since the build had been completed. He’d been without purpose before, but this was different. He could do whatever he wanted, but he just wanted to help Tommy. There was still a lot of healing to do.

Speak of the devil, Tommy came sprinting up to where Nook stood. “I thought I’d find you here, Big Man!” Tommy grinned. “I just wanted to say hi before I go to the prison.”

Nook turned quickly. HELLO TOMMYINNIT. I WOULD NOT RECOMMEND GOING TO THE PRISON. I DO NOT LIKE IT.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You never liked it. Just one last time, alright? Then I can catch a break, and I dunno, maybe I’ll take a vacation.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? I’ve never had a vacation before. I’d probably just wake up and think I got exiled again.”

YOU MAY GO IF YOU WISH, Nook nodded anxiously, BUT I WISH YOU WOULDN’T. IT MAKES ME UNEASY.

Tommy snorted and started walking away. He waved, and was still smiling. Nook thought he looked almost like a kid again, not some soldier who was tired of life. “Bye, Nook! I’ll catch you later!”

Sam didn’t show up that day to monitor the hotel, nor the next day, so Nook took that to mean that the job was over. He was almost sad, but he caught himself. He hadn’t been made to be sad. Only to help.

Nook tried to find Tommy, but he wasn’t at his house, which he thought was a little odd, but he didn’t mind. Maybe today would finally be the day he got to listen and observe the birds. They were peculiar creatures, birds were. 

He hadn’t meant to spend all day and all night watching the birds, but once he saw them, he’d wandered to a nearby stream to look at the fish, then to the little cricket that had been hopping around…

When he got back to the hotel, for he hadn’t gotten Sam to move his charging station and he was very, very low, the large sign he’d put up was taken down, and another took its place. He couldn’t read what it said, but he didn’t have time to look at it yet. He figured it was just something Tommy put up, so he went to charge.

The next morning, he saw the name, clear and bold. JACK MANIFOLD, he muttered, YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU TAMPERED WITH THE HOTEL.

Sure, Tommy had mentioned a few days ago that he wanted to hire Jack, but this was too far.

“Oh, hey, Sam Nook.” Jack himself stood by the entrance. “Hope you don’t mind the rebranding. I’m taking over while Tommy’s, uh, on vacation.”

Nook wanted to yell, but he remembered the kind greeting that he was confined to. HELLO, JACK MANIFOLD. I HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL,- he didn’t wait for a response -BUT YES, I DO MIND THE REBRANDING. WHEN TOMMY RETURNS FROM HIS VACATION, IF THAT IS WHERE HE IS, THEN HE WILL BE VERY DISPLEASED.

He didn’t understand why he felt so angry at Jack, so Nook replaced the sign and took another day off. Sam still hadn’t showed up, so he took a journey to the portal that Tommy had told him about. It shone brightly, and he liked it, but he didn’t dare pass through. Not without someone by his side. 

Time passed quicker than he realized, and before he knew it, the purple sheen darkened with the shadows of night. Nook didn’t want to go back yet, so he stayed out. He walked to where he’d heard a new member had settled down, and he liked the flowers there. He stayed there for a while.

When he woke up, Nook was at his charging station. There was a sign that told him he’d shut down while in the flower field, so someone carried him back. No signature was on the note, but when he journeyed up to the hotel, he had an inkling of an idea.

There were more signs. The large one, advertising the hotel, was different, hand-drawn, but Nook wasn’t mad about that. Apparently, Jack had changed it before Puffy put it back. Nook decided that if Puffy ever got into trouble, he’d defend her. She was one of the good ones on this server of murderers and authorities. 

Jack showed his face again.

HELLO JACK MANIFOLD, Nook greeted. I REALLY WISH YOU WOULD STOP CHANGING THE APPEARANCE OF THE BIG INNIT HOTEL SIGN. TOMMY WON’T BE PLEASED, WHEN HE RETURNS, AND I SHOULD LIKE YOU TO REMAIN AN EMPLOYEE.

Nook brushed over the fact that he’d told his first lie. Jack called for more attention- he looked cheerful, but not completely so, if was a conflicted cheerfulness. Today was not the day to antagonize him, Nook decided. He was hurting. Why? Nook wasn’t sure.

I AM GOING TO LEAVE, Nook announced, AND WHEN I COME BACK, I WANT THE SIGN TO BE THE SAME.

Jack didn’t respond.

Nook spent the day exploring, just wandering, and he couldn’t shake the loss that he felt. He wasn’t lost, though. He knew where he was. 

It was late before he remembered to go back before his battery died somewhere no one would find him, but as Nook walked back, Puffy was burning a part of the path.

HELLO CAPTAIN PUFFY! He smiled. Today had been a good day. HOW ARE YOU TODAY?

When she turned to respond, her eyes were red. Something was wrong. “Hey, Nook.” She said blankly, watching the flames as her eyes welled up with tears.

WHY ARE YOU CRYING? He questioned. HAS BADBOYHALO UPSET YOU? SHOULD I TAKE CARE OF HIM FOR YOU?

Puffy chuckled, but there was no feeling behind it. “No, Nook. Bad’s fine for now. I’ll deal with him later.”

SO HE HAS UPSET YOU? Nook tilted his head. THEN WHY BURN THE PATH? I AM SORRY, BUT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

“That’s fine. You should probably head back, though. Don’t let your battery run out.” Puffy sniffled as she wiped her sleeve across her nose.

Nook made a soft sound. IF YOU EVER NEED A BREAK, FEEL FREE TO STOP BY THE BIG INNIT HOTEL. DON’T TELL TOMMY, BUT I INTEND TO GIVE YOU A SIGNIFICANT DISCOUNT. YOU DESERVE IT, CAPTAIN PUFFY.

It hadn’t been the right thing to say. She started crying harder, so Nook left her to mourn whatever had happened. It wasn’t his place to pry.

Weird things kept happening. Quackity had visited that night, too, but Jack pulled him away from hotel property to chat. And then the next day, more people stopped by the Hotel. They didn’t buy a room, though. They just stared. Some in pity, at him, but mostly in sadness.

A rival inn had popped up, and Nook was excited. He’d be able to convince Tommy to get upgrades easier this way, now. Tommy just had to get back. He missed Tommy.

Sam visited, finally. Nook noticed the devastated look on his face, but it was common those days. He wondered if there had been another war he didn’t know about.

HELLO, AWESAMDUDE! DO YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION ON WHEN TOMMY RETURNS? Nook asked eagerly. I WISH TO BEGIN UPGRADES SOON.

Sam looked like he might cry. “No, Nook, Tommy, uh-” He paused, as if changing what he was going to say. “No, He said he was going to be gone a while, though. You might want to start upgrades by yourself. I’ve got prison business to deal with.”

Nook remembered his conversation with Tommy. DID TOMMY HAVE A GOOD VISIT AT THE PRISON? HE TOLD ME HE WAS GOING, BUT HE DIDN’T MENTION HIS VACATION. 

As if distracted, Sam hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. The visit went okay.”

DREAM PLAYED NICE? He asked, just to make sure (ah, yes, his favorite discovery of recent days. Dream was the one in the prison, the one responsible for Tommy’s sorrow).

Sam froze. “I gotta go, Nook, I might be by later, but don’t count on it. And- yeah,” he hid a sob, “Dream played nice.”

Nook had the feeling that Sam was hiding something from him. And so began a new feeling for the android: Hurt.

He tried to notice things more, but eventually, it was staring him in the face. Like when he went inside of the hotel the next night to find Badboyhalo and his egg group having a party. Puffy was with him, and she began yelling at them, but Nook took over. He drew himself to his full height, which wasn’t that much, but he was still taller than everyone in the room.

BADBOYHALO, he thundered, and he wasn’t used to speaking so loudly. I EXPECT YOU HAVE GOOD REASON TO BE HERE, OR I WILL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE. He laid a hand on the hilt of his sword and he summoned the most fearsome look he could manage.

The demon paused before speaking. Everyone had been, when speaking to him. He wanted to know why, but this wasn’t the right moment. “Hey, Nook. Yeah, we were just… celebrating.”

CELEBRATING WHAT, EXACTLY?

“Oh. Well, it’s Jack’s birthday! We figured that Jack was Tommy’s friend so he wouldn’t mind us having a party here.”

Nook didn’t mention that Jack wasn’t even there. He didn’t mention how confused he was, or how much he wanted to know what was going on, but he made sure they left. He wished Jack a happy birthday when he walked by, but Jack had just given him a puzzled look.

Nook added it to the growing list of things that people were hiding things from him. His list of people he trusted was growing thinner.

It didn’t take long for him to discover why. 

He’d been walking back to the hotel, just to check if Tommy had gotten back, when distantly, he heard Sam and Ranboo talking. Ranboo was a peculiar subject, Nook had decided. He was also conflicted, and always showed signs of regret whenever he spoke of Tommy with Nook.  Nook wasn’t quite sure why, but he’d find out soon enough.

Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long.

He was doing the right thing.

Sam sounded near tears, even though it was clear he’d just been sobbing. “I couldn’t stop it, Ranboo. He just, I got into the cell and he was just laughing, I was yelling at him and he was just laughing, in my face-”

“He was laughing?” Ranboo whispered.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “And then- oh, god. I had to carry his body out of the cell, and his eyes just stared at me. They stared at me, and he was so quiet,” Sam covered his mouth to hide another sob, “And the blood, the blood got everywhere-”

Nook’s eyes widened. Someone had died in the prison? Who?

“There was no way you could have let him out?” Ranboo asked, but Nook knew that his anger was gone, replaced with the cold emptiness that hope left when it disappeared. 

“No, Ranboo,” Sam whispered. “Because if Dream had held him on that bridge, threatening his life if he wasn’t let out, then I wouldn’t have had a choice. I wouldn’t have had the courage to leave him in the cell. I’d have freed Dream.”

Nook thought for a moment. Who did Sam love enough to let Dream out for? He didn’t like any of the options on the list. 

Sam continued. “And the worst part of it- The worst part is that every time I see Nook, I have to act as if Tommy’s still alive and having a great time, I have to act as if it wasn’t my fault that Tommy is dead, I have to act as if Tommy’s dead eyes don’t haunt me every time I try to sleep because I coded him to be loyal to Tommy and I don’t what he’ll do if he discovers he’s gone.”

What?

Nook left. He didn’t want to hear this conversation. It wasn’t true, was it? It couldn’t be.

It made a lot of sense.

Nook went to his charging station, and when he opened his eyes the next morning, everything seemed a little duller.

Puffy was out, and Nook couldn’t help but feel hurt that yes, even she had hid this from him. Or maybe not. He didn’t know if it was true.

What was she- oh. She was building a memorial. It was cobblestone, of course, with a picture of a disc in the middle. 

Who Are You Building That For? Nook asked, and was surprised to hear his voice sound…

“Whoa, Nook, are you okay?” Puffy asked. Her eyes hadn’t gotten any less red, “You sound sad.”

Who? Nook asked, even though he already knew the answer. Who Died, Puffy? You Wouldn’t Lie, Right?

“Nook,” Puffy sighed, but he interrupted.

why didn’t you tell me that dream killed tommy? Nook asked, his high pitched voice now soft and quiet. 

“Sam-”

Sam Wasn’t Sure I Could Be Trusted. Nook shrugged. He couldn’t be bothered to defend himself when all that he felt was frustration. He was coded to build and protect, but damn if he didn’t want to destroy the entire server.

He walked away, pretending not to hear Puffy calling out for him.

Mechanically, (he almost laughed at that thought. Mechanical- he was.) he began to tear down the Big Innit Hotel. Why? Well-

“Nook?” Sam shouted from below the hotel. His voice cracked. “Are you alright?”

Nook went down to the first floor. He was already a pretty good way into the hotel dismantling. HELLO, AWESAMDUDE. He said coldly, almost liking the way Sam flinched away. WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE, TODAY?

Sam sighed, but his breath was unsteady. “So, you found out. Are you okay?”

I AM ANGRY, Nook said simply. THAT SUCH A YOUNG LIFE WAS TAKEN. I AM ANGRY THAT DREAM STILL LIVES.

“Well, I can’t just-”

KILL HIM? Nook asked. Taunted, almost. WHY NOT? WHAT’S STOPPING YOU? OR ME? TELL ME, SAM, WHAT IS STOPPING ME FROM GOING AGAINST MY CODING COMPLETELY? PUFFY IS BARGAINING, YOU LET IT SADDEN YOU, TUBBO MAY STILL BE IN DENIAL BY PUSHING HIMSELF BACK INTO LOGIC AND RANBOO MAY HAVE ACCEPTED IT, BUT TELL ME, AWESAMDUDE, WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I TOLD YOU THAT I WAS SO ANGRY THAT I DOUBT IT IS POSSIBLE TO CALM ME DOWN? WOULD YOU BELIEVE IN MY ANGER IF I TORE DOWN THIS ENTIRE HOTEL, THEN TOOK THE SERVER WITH IT? MAKE NO MISTAKE, SAM, I AM NOT GOING AGAINST ALL THAT YOU CREATED ME TO BE. I AM LOYAL TO TOMMY FIRST AND FOREMOST, SO TELL ME, WHAT AM I, NOW THAT HE’S GONE?

Sam didn’t answer. Nook could tell he was crying, but he couldn’t feel anything except rage.

I AM FREE, Nook yelled, and his voice shook. I AM FREE OF THE ATTACHMENT THAT KEPT ME DOCILE. I AM FREE OF EVERYTHING THAT I LIVED FOR, SO WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, SAM? TELL ME, BECAUSE I DO NOT KNOW.

Sam looked at him. He looked just about as lost as Nook felt. “I- I don’t know, Nook. You weren’t the only one that lost him, but… I think I could let you visit Dream, if you… if you want to yell at him, or something. I owe it to you.”

Nook deflated. YOU DO NOT OWE ME, AWESAMDUDE. YOU HAVE GIFTED ME WITH LIFE, BUT IF YOU ARE OKAY WITH IT, I WOULD LIKE TO SEE DREAM. I PROMISE I WON’T KILL HIM TOO MUCH.

Sam managed a weak smile at the joke. “I know you’ll try your best. If you do, though, I won’t be that choked up.”

___________

Nook liked the look of fear on Dream’s face. He wasn’t supposed to- he was supposed to protect, he was supposed to care, he was supposed to do all of the things that he had done when Tommy was alive, but then, in that moment,

He wanted blood.

By all means, it should have been comical, he knew what his voice sounded like, but Dream looked terrified, and it wasn’t an act. Nook would know, he’s spent his entire life deciphering whatever Tommy was hiding. No, Dream is scared, and he is scared to show it.

Nook latches onto that uncertainty.

you killed him, Nook growls. This has been going on for a while. you killed him and i want nothing more than to make you pay.

Dream shouldn’t have been so affected by the yelling, but a quote from his mother echoed in his brain.

“Be afraid if someone peaceful takes up arms. Being kind is a strength, not a weakness, and should they go against you, you will not win.”

Dream tried to push down the terror rising in him, instead holding onto how bored he was. He wanted something new. “I’ll bring him back! I’ll get the book and I’ll bring him back, if it’s worth so much to you.”

Nook glared at him. YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU DON’T NEED A BOOK, DREAMWASTAKEN. WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU MADE IT UP. BRING HIM BACK, AND MAYBE I WILL SPARE YOU.

“Sam wouldn’t let you kill me,” Dream tried,  but there was doubt in his mind. He sighed, and lifted a hand.

Just like that, there is another being in the cell. A floating one. Not a ghost, but a god. XD, he was called, and he had the power to do anything.

“Yes?” The god asked, and Dream sighed again. He hated not being in control.

“Bring the kid back.”

“So you can kill him again?” XD asked, unamused, and Nook wonders how many times this has happened before.

NO, Nook objected. SO THAT I CAN STOP THIS SERVER’S MISERY AND BRING BACK THE CHILD THAT DIED TOO YOUNG.

XD hummed. “You’re interesting. What are you? You aren’t quite human, you aren’t quite android. You’re an in-between. Curious.”

IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT I AM, JUST WHAT YOU CAN DO. Nook said. ARE YOU GOING TO BRING HIM BACK OR NOT?

And, just like that, there’s Tommy. He’s got a black eye and he’s shaking, like he’s expecting to be killed again, but when he saw Sam Nook he ran.

“Sam Nook?” He whispered, as Nook gathered him into a hug. “Is this real?”

IT’S REAL. Nook reassured. I’M NOT GOING TO LET THEM HURT YOU ANY LONGER. ANY OF THEM.

Sam was already crying, but he started sobbing once Tommy came into sight, murmuring apologies and promises and anything that he can do to show how sorry he is. “I’m sorry, Tommy, I’m so sorry,”

Tommy was crying too. Nook could only stand and watch. “It’s okay, big man, really. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The rest of the server got back their hope that day, but Nook? Nook got Tommy, and he got days on the roof of the rebuilt hotel with him, chatting about everything and nothing, and he got emotions, and maybe, throughout it all, as he smiled fondly as Tommy bickered with Ranboo, maybe humanity was worth the pain it brought.

[mothspore]

walk me home

i still have literally no idea how to set this up so i guess here’s this 

pairing: logince

warnings: none

it’s literally just fluff uhhh

do i need a summary? someone please teach me how to do this i’m dying

Logan sighed as he stepped out of the lobby of his building. He had a long day at work, and didn’t feel comfortable walking home at night, especially not in the freezing rain, when he only really had a light jacket. And so, he ended up calling Roman down, because he was the only person Logan knew who would be crazy enough to be up at 2am.

One thing was wrong with his logic though—apparently, Roman wasn’t crazy enough to be awake at 2am. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, to the point where Logan was about to just suck it up and walk home on his own. Then he picked up.

“Logan? What the hell? Do you know what time it is?” Roman asked, voice still heavy with sleep. Logan immediately felt awful for waking him up, knowing how few hours of sleep he must get because of college.

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware that you were asleep. You usually stay up quite late.”

“Yeah, well, university is exhausting me. But why did you call? It’s not like you to call me just because, especially not at 2am,” he said mid-yawn.

“Well, you have a point there. It really—It’s not an issue, I can handle it on my own, I’m sorry for waking you. You should go back to sleep, I can walk home on my own.”

“What? You’re out?”

“Well—Yes, my work day ended up running a little late—”

“A little late? At 2am?”

“—okay, a lot late. Regardless, I only finished just recently, and I didn’t feel comfortable walking home alone in the rain. However, if it’s a matter of feeling uncomfortable or your health, the obvious priority is your health.”

“Well, it’s your health, too, Lo. You know to trust your gut, if you’re hesitant, there’s a good reason. And it’s raining, you could get sick. Where are you?”

“What? No, go back to sleep!”

“We’ve been talking for a few minutes now, I’m up. And I’m coming to get you. Do you have a proper coat?”

“Roman, no! I can walk home on my own, I’m just being overdramatic. You don’t need to come get me. Seriously. Go back to sleep.”

“Logan, shut up. Now do you have a coat?”

Logan sighed in defeat. He knew that now that Roman had his mind set, there was no changing it. “No, I don’t. Thank you, Roman. You don’t have to do this.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. What kind of person would I be if I just let you freeze out there?” Logan heard a noise that was undeniably Roman grabbing some coats. “Damn it! I forgot my roommate borrowed the car to visit family… Damn. Alright, I’m going to take a little longer than I thought. Here, go back inside your building, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Logan told Roman the address, and he hung up. He turned to go back inside, and then remembered the automatic lock on the doors. He was stuck outside in the cold until Roman got here. The icy rain splashed down on his head, leaving droplets on his glasses and soaking his jacket. He sighed shakily and shivered, hoping that Roman would get here soon.

He was very flattered that Roman seemed to care enough about him to run out in the middle of the night in the rain to get his stupid ass home. He chuckled a bit, knowing he’d do the same for Roman. Although he had to admit that his reasons were probably quite different than Roman’s. He doubted that Roman held the same...er, admiration for him as he did for Roman. It was quite frustrating at times, both having said admiration and dealing with the reality that it is more than likely not reciprocated. Sometimes, however, it was difficult to hold himself back.

When he saw Roman running at him through the rain, full speed, still in his fuzzy sleep pants, mismatched socks, and sandals, waving a heavy coat and scarf at him, he was having a particularly hard time holding himself back. Roman’s smile widened as he saw Logan’s bewildered expression.

“What on earth—Did you run here?!” Logan asked.

“Yep! Like I said, my roommate borrowed the car, so I couldn’t exactly drive.”

“You could’ve taken a bus, Roman!”

“Ah yes, the bus, the one that drives around at 2am. Busses have schedules, you know! The drivers have to sleep at some point, Microsoft Nerd.”

Logan opened his mouth to protest, but realized that Roman was right. “Well still, I feel bad for making you run through the rain like this, especially at this hour.”

Roman shrugged, handing Logan the heavy coat. “Eh, no big deal. I’m always up for new adventures,” he said. Logan adjusted Roman’s coat, which was a few sizes too big. “And besides,” Roman said, wrapping the scarf around the shorter man’s neck, “I couldn’t let you freeze your cute little nose off out here.” He booped Logan on the nose, earning a tiny surprised noise. Logan’s face burned. He desperately hoped that it was unnoticeable in the rain.

The two started walking through the storm, side by side. Logan was hyperaware of their proximity to each other. Every so often, their hands would brush or their shoulders would bump, and every time it happened, Logan would feel a shock of tingles go up his arm, warming his core. However, the warmth in his chest did little to combat the bitter cold of the rain. He shivered and pulled Roman’s coat tighter around him. The temperature continued to drop. Roman took notice of his shivering and wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulder. Logan’s cheeks flushed again, and he huddled in closer to the taller man.

Logan’s mind raced. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to say fuck it and tell Roman everything. It would be relatively easy to do, he has played it out in his head enough times to know what he would say. All he would need to do is say it. He mentally prepared himself to say the words he’s kept to himself for so long—

“There it is! There you go, Lo,” Roman said cheerfully, lifting his arm away.

Logan’s heart dropped. No! Just when he had gotten the confidence to actually say something… He slowed his pace gradually until he stopped. Roman turned back to look at him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. In that moment, Logan decided to risk it all, because he knew he wasn’t going to get another opportunity like this.

“Logan? Are you alright?” Roman began, but he never got to finish. Logan grabbed his face and stood on his toes, pressing their lips together.

Roman’s eyes widened in shock, stumbling backwards and arms flying up from his sides. Then he realized what was happening. He immediately kissed back. He snaked his arms down around Logan’s waist and pulled him closer to his chest. One of Logan’s arms wrapped around Roman’s neck, and his other hand buried itself in his hair.

Around them, the rain crystallized, and snow began falling in its place. The two men stood there in the middle of it all, lips moving as one. They parted all too soon, gasping for air. Logan found himself breathlessly cursing the low air capacity of human lungs. Roman smiled like Logan had never seen, and if he wasn’t already struggling to catch his breath, it would’ve taken his breath away. Roman grabbed Logan by the waist and lifted him in the air, spinning him around effortlessly. Logan squeaked at the unexpected movement. Roman pulled Logan back to his chest for a moment, kissing him again. He sprinkled kisses all over Logan’s face until he too was smiling like an idiot. Roman let him down, but grabbed hold of one of his hands.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been holding that back,” Roman whispered. Logan chuckled a little.

“I...think I can imagine,” Logan responded giddily.

Then Roman did something that really surprised him. He pulled Logan back into a tight hug. “I love you,” he whispered. Logan’s heart skipped a beat or eight. “More than anything. I’ve been waiting to tell you for so long. I love you, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes filled with tears as he buried his face in Roman’s chest. He smiled as he sobbed, whispering tiny “I love you too”s back at him. Roman melted and held him close. At the end of the night, they shared one last tender kiss before Roman headed home, but neither of them slept. The only thing they could think about was each other.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.13 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Finally some answers! It's just a shame they aren't for the questions Stretch already had.

Read ‘Neverland’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

If he were asked, Stretch would be the first to admit he was probably not the greatest influence out there for anyone. When he was younger, he’d tried his best for Blue’s sake at least; he worked two jobs, he made sure the laundry was done so Blue could wear clean clothes for school and all that. But as Blue got older and more able to help out, a lot of that shit fell off to the wayside into apathy. Until they got to the surface, anyway, but whatever efforts he’d made to get his life on track in the Aboveground took a sad detour back to wallowing in misery a few months back.

That said, Stretch tried not to be a complete asshole at any given time, but damn if living in Backwater wasn’t putting his manners to the test, because the predominant phrase running through his mind right now as he stared at the older ‘Chara’ clone was, ‘what in the name of holy blue fuck?’.

At least he managed not to say it, but then, he also didn’t manage to say anything else. Instead of a ‘hi’ or a ‘how ya doin’ or even a ‘so, how about those dodgers’ for the smiling Human in front of him, all Stretch did was gape, his bike engine idling and his mouth hanging open in an invitation to any circling flies in search of a new home.

His luck was leaning towards good today, insect-wise, since none took the invite, and all the Human did was smile wider, their eyes crinkling as they held out their hand and said, with a certain slyness, “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

Stretch knew before he even shook their hand what was coming. Mostly, anyway, turned out to be a whoopie cushion hidden in the palm rather than the joy buzzer Stretch was so fond of. But he knew, this was his gag, and still he hastily switched off the engine and reached over. He took their hand in a daze and the rubbery wheeze of a fake fart as their palms met made the Human laugh in delight.

“Still works,” they said gleefully. The Human held up the little whoopie cushion before tucking it into their pocket, leaving aside humor for sincerity. “I have so wanted to meet you.”

“me?” Stretch said blankly. Not exactly showcasing his brilliance, there, but he couldn’t seem to stop staring. That familiar, cherubic smile was so strange when it was on another face. Of all the things he’d seen so far in Backwater, this was, by far, the last he’d ever expected, and that was including the damn corn.

“Oh, yes, Edge has told me all about you,” they said, rocking on their heels. From the neck down, the resemblance took a little detour. No striped shirt here and instead of the green Chara favored, they wore blue. A subtle difference, but one that Stretch latched onto gratefully, along with what they said next. “My name is Frisk.”

“frisk,” Stretch repeated. He felt like a living echo, but that name seemed somehow familiar, niggling at the back of his mind. Eh, didn’t matter, the important thing was that it wasn’t ‘Chara’, ‘cause his mental capacity for accepting the weird was teetering on the brink of overload.

Their mouth twitched again into a smile. "You're wearing my old helmet."

"oh. oh!” Stretch slapped a hand on top of his head and nearly impaled it on a cat ear. Hastily, he started working on the buckle. “uh. sorry about that.”

"No, it's cute,” Frisk said cheerfully. “Red wouldn’t let me ride my bike without it, either.” Stretch could only blink at them, still waiting on an internal reboot, here, and the Human’s mouth twisted wryly. "It’s okay. The resemblance is uncanny, I know. We saw it all on television when it happened a few years ago. Chara, the human who brought Monsters back to the surface. Red thought it was all very funny, but his sense of humor is rather questionable on a good day."

On television? But…how…? Weakly, Stretch said, "i don't understand."

“I know," Frisk said. Their eyes darkened with sympathy. "And I doubt very much that Edge or Red explained." They sighed with fond irritation, "All these years living here, and Edge still loves his puzzles. Never a straight answer if he can twist it around for someone to solve. Red is just a shit. Come on,” they jerked their chin towards the cabin. “Edge is around back.”

Frisk turned and started back up the winding path, bare feet light on the flat stones. Stretch realized he was still straddling his bike and hastily put down the kickstand before following. Okay, so, no Red Riding Hood today, he was more like a Lost Boy and if Peter Pan swooped down right now with Tinkerbell sparkling at his feet, he was gonna swat them both down.

“wait!” he called. Frisk paused and turned around, their expression questioning as Stretch jogged to catch up, trying not to stumble over his untied shoelaces. “you…you’re edge’s roommate, right?”

Frisk considered that and nodded. “That’s as good a word as any.”

“right.” Okay, yeah, he would have felt pretty damn guilty about his frequent admiration of Edge’s hips if it weren’t for Red assuring him Edge wasn’t in a relationship. Roommates, not ‘roommates’, finger quote-slash-finger quote. He was losing the thread, though, and he wanted to pick it back up before it unraveled completely. “look, i’m supposed to be here to ask you about edgar allen.”

“I know,” Frisk smiled again and a pair of dimples peeked out. Now that he was past the initial shock, he could see a splash of freckles on their nose, another little difference distancing them from Chara that was a relief to see. “I’ll explain everything in due time. Come on.” They dashed away again, and all Stretch could do was follow.

In due time, right, he’d been waiting for anyone around here to pay their dues for days, give him some straightforward answers, and it seemed like the only thing he ever got was another winding road.

He’d been doing pretty good about cutting back on the cigarettes, but today Stretch would have maimed someone’s uncle for a full pack and a half an hour to work his way through ‘em, one after another.

Frisk led the way behind the house and as Stretch stepped around the corner, he stopped to stare at the view. It opened up into a clearing that was filled with huge garden spreading out in a chaotic sort of order; beds of bright flowers, rows of different veggies and berries, baskets hanging between them with leafy tendrils spilling out. Parts of it already looked like they were winding down for the summer, like the rows of truly enormous sunflowers skirting the garden, their bright petals already withering and their broad faces gone to seed, heralds to the upcoming change of season.

It was incredible, it was insane, how…?

“how does all this grow in the woods?" Stretch asked wonderingly, to no one in particular. “how do you grow sunflowers without sun?” Some light filtered in through the heavy canopy of branches overhead, sure, but the overwhelming appearance was one of shade. Stretch didn’t know shit about gardening, but this wasn’t exactly his idea of a great place to set one up.

Obviously, someone forgot to tell these plants, it sure wasn’t stopping them.

“They aren’t sunflowers. Not exactly.”

It wasn’t Frisk’s voice and Stretch startled, turning to see Edge kneeling close by in the dirt by another row, briskly picking handfuls from the low plants. There was a basket next to him half-filled with green pods, beans or peas, he wasn’t sure which, and that was where it stayed because it wasn’t the gardening that Stretch was interested in anyway. He promptly forgot about sunflowers, beans, peas, Peter Pan, everything, and stood mutely watching Edge work.

Somehow, he always managed to forget in between seeing him how damned attractive Edge was. Even in shabby working clothes, the underarms of his t-shirt damp with sweat and wearing a pair of dirty flower-patterned garden gloves, he was a hell of a snack pack. All those baggy clothes did was cloak what he knew they concealed, hinting at what lay beneath with a suggestion that unwrapping would reveal delightful surprises and—

Yeah, okay, he was gonna stop that line of thought right there. He was here for a reason and it wasn’t to ogle at Red’s little bro.

Then all his good intentions took a spin down the drain as Edge looked up at him and smiled. Not a scowl, which wouldn’t have surprised him, not a smirk, which was to be expected, but an honest-to-angel smile. Like he was actually glad to see him and the little throb in Stretch’s battered soul didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should.

“So, you’ve finally arrived,” Edge said. He went back to his picking, didn’t seem to notice the way Stretch’s eye lights kept trying to drift down to where his shirt was riding up at the back.

“looks that way.” Stretch tore his gaze from Edge and took the safer route of glancing around at the garden again. “took longer than i thought it would. this place could use a yellow brick road.”

"That seems like it would invite tornados,” Edge said dryly, “and we see enough trouble."

Trouble? That didn’t seem right. How much trouble could show up on their doorstep out here in the boonies. Then again, probably better to just roll with it, for all he knew there were bears out here or monsters with a lowercase ‘m’. Fuck it, could even be monster bears, who knew? It would sure explain why everyone said to keep on the path.

So, Stretch let that be and asked instead, “your bro didn’t give you a heads up that i was coming?”

“No.” And there was a touch of the sourpuss he knew and lo—liked. Edge slithered on down the row and attacked the pods on those plants, adding them in to his basket. “While I at least attempt to keep my brother apprised of any situations in town, he tends to side with the element of surprise.”

From out of nowhere, the Human appeared. They marched right up to Edge and smacked him lightly on the back of the skull and Stretch nearly jumped himself; he’d just about forgotten about them completely despite them being the entire reason behind his visit. Yep, that was the only reason he was here, to ask about Edgar Allen, and he damn well needed to remember that.

“Oh, stop it!” Frisk scolded, “You and your brother, and your petty squabbles! You were just as bad yourself when we were still Underground, always had to play up the puzzles.”

Edge made a show of rubbing his skull, as if that little smack even hurt. His mouth twitched in an almost-smile, and it wasn’t as nice as the one earlier, but it still made Stretch melt a little inside. “That is possible,” he allowed.

“Good. You behave. Now,” Frisk turned back to Stretch and said brightly, “Come inside, we’ll talk over dinner.”

Uh.

Frisk started towards the house and Edge got to his feet, basket in hand, to follow them. Stretch hung back, suddenly wary of going into the gingerbread house. He knew all the stories about spiders and flies, and what happened in their parlors, thanks, and before Frisk could disappear inside, Stretch called, weakly, "i really only came out here to ask about edgar allen."

They hesitated at the open door and from the glint in their eyes, they had an inkling of what Stretch was thinking about. “I know. And Edge set you on a quest to find me so you can ask,” they laughed delightedly, “The phone book was a nice touch.”

"you know about that?” Stretch blurted, “so you’ve known i wanted to talk to you?”

They nodded. “Of course, Edge tells me everything.”

“so why didn't you come into town to see me?!"

Their sudden mischievous smile only made them look even more like Chara. "And spoil his fun?"

Frisk went inside, the door swinging shut behind them. Edge stayed outside, his basket of beans-or-peas balanced on his hip. He arched a browbone and asked, “Are you coming or not?”

Stretch wavered, scuffing his feet against the stone path, both tempted and wary, and before he could make a choice, his magic decided for him. They didn’t have stomachs, actually, but it didn’t stop their magic from imitating one for him, letting out a growl that was a reminder that the lunch Red packed him was still stashed away in his bag uneaten.

That earned him a low chuckle and the melted chocolate of Edge’s voice didn’t help his growling not-belly one damn bit. Edge tilted his head towards the door in invitation, “Come on, it’s dinner time and I can’t bear to let moronic creatures starve. You can help me cook.”

“uh.” Leaving aside the whole moronic thing (he’d probably earned it at some point, anyway), now might be the time to bring up an important fact. “i should warn you ahead of time, i’m not much of a chef.”

Edge only nodded, sighing deeply, “Of course. I should have suspected that looks aside, you were my brother’s doppelgänger rather than mine.”

“what?” How was it this guy could be so unfairly hot and so damned confusing at the same time? “what does that even mean?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

Stretch only crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “ain’t gonna get easier if you don’t start.”

Edge made an impatient sound, “Come inside and we will. Stretch,” his voice went lower, gentle, “Backwater can be unnerving, I know this, but you’re safe here. I would never let anything hurt you in my home.”

Yeah, okay, that was seriously unfair, like Edge was speaking directly to his nerves, reassuring him with honeyed promises and damned if Stretch didn’t believe him. Worse, he wanted to believe him.

He still hung back uncertainly, and one corner of Edge’s mouth quirked up as he added, “Besides, my brother would never forgive me if I let anything happen to his best salesperson.”

That burst the tension hanging in the air and Stretch snorted loudly, “that ain’t saying much, I’ve seen firsthand how red runs the store.”

With a last nervous glance at the garden/woods behind him, Stretch finally followed. He hoped he at least lived to regret it.

~~*~~

An hour later, Stretch was feeling pretty stupid about his little moment of panic. For one, sitting in their kitchen peeling carrots was probably the most normal thing he’d done since he’d gotten here. No ghosts popping out from the walls, nothing coming alive that shouldn’t to say hi. The most complicated thing he had to do was make sure the peelings ended up in the trash bin rather than on the floor and even that he got right at least ninety percent of the time.

Stretch wasn’t entirely incapable of cooking. It was only that his bro enjoyed it so much more than him that he didn’t bother and when he did, the words ‘instant’ or ‘microwave’ were usually involved in some capacity.

He spent the rest of his focus on covertly watching his hosts. Frisk and Edge moved around the kitchen and each other easily, they’d obviously been roomies for some time. They laughed, they teased, made stupid in-jokes that Stretch longed to understand, and Stretch only sat back and watched them. To be honest, there was something a little unnerving about their homey domestication. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, for sure.

Or maybe he was just a little homesick. In spite of Red’s mothering, he was starting to miss his brother’s care and concern, a little. Probably better to not think of that and Stretch swapped out his peeled carrots for the basket of what he was assured were definitely peas, working on shelling them into another bowl.

The outside of the house might be more wicked witch in the woods, but the inside was more traditional in an airy open floor plan. From his spot in the kitchen, he could see the living room with large, comfy sofas positioned in front of a pretty damn nice television.

There were also several crowded bookshelves and a few cabinets against the walls, each one filled with an impressive collection of action figures and the glass meticulously polished. Pictures on the wall, some of Edge and Frisk, a few more than included Red, along with artwork, pretty landscapes that might well be visible from their front door.

All it all it was simply…normal. Not a single cauldron or any eye of newt in sight, and Stretch could’ve been doing the same thing back in Ebott except for the fact that this Human wasn’t Chara and Edge wasn’t…yeah.

Once the prep was done, dinner didn’t take long to get on the table. Soon they were all sitting with a bowl and if Stretch was a little dubious about the unknown dish set in front of him, all his worries vanished with the first bite.

He was getting used to the tasty food that Edge brought to the shop a couple times a week; Red was always willing to share and now that he thought about it, either Edge always included extra for leftovers or he’d started packing more so that both of them could have enough tasty goodness. Stretch wasn’t sure which was true, but he knew which one he hoped it was.

This, though, this was something entirely else, so much more than simple, tasty nourishment. Cheesy grits with a vegetable medley and a poached egg on top, that’s what Frisk introduced the dish as, but that description couldn’t truly explain the taste. How the fresh peas were buttery sweet, the carrots sweet and crisp, the way the egg yolk burst open when his fork pierced it, the bright, rich yolk dripping down to coat everything in reach with deliciousness. Stretch had to resist the urge to shovel it into his mouth, forcing himself to chew it slowly and didn’t regret it, groaning aloud around his mouthful, it was so damned good. His brother wasn’t a bad cook, but it was like comparing a bowl of oatmeal to a full breakfast platter, there was no comparison.

Stretch took another huge bite, moaning again as he hit the creamy, cheesy goodness of the grits. He looked up and paused mid-chew, to see both Edge and Frisk staring at him.

“hrmmm?” Neither of them replied to his not-a-question and Stretch awkwardly swallowed down his too-large mouthful before trying again, “what?” He grabbed a napkin and wiped at his face, but it came away clean.

“Nothing,” Edge said finally. There was a faint flush of redness high on his cheekbones, for no good reason Stretch could figure, not with the way the air conditioning was blasting out. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to his own bowl. “It’s only nice to see someone enjoying my cooking so thoroughly.”

Frisk only offered a frustratingly Mona Lisa sort of smile and dug in, the three of them eating in silence, aside from Stretch’s occasional happy groans.

Once the bowls were scraped clean, Frisk pushed theirs aside and announced, “All right, then, if I’m going to explain, I think it’s best to start at the beginning.” Frisk slanted a questioning look at Edge. “If that’s all right?”

“Why are you asking me?” Edge stood to clear away the dishes, carrying the stack to the sink. “It’s your story.”

“Because you’re in it.”

Stretch could only sit there, trying not to squirm with impatience as Edge thought that over, rinsing the bowls before stacking them into the dishwasher. “Tell him,” he said. “Mysteries are one thing, but I don’t care for lies.”

Frisk smiled, their eyes gone memory-dark. “I know. All right, then!” They clapped their hands together lightly and Stretch settled in for what he hoped was a damned good story.

“I’m from Backwater originally,” Frisk began, “but I didn’t live here my entire life. When I was a child, my parents died. I ended up going to Ebott to live with relatives and it was—” They frowned, teeth grinding briefly as if they were chewing on the words, managing only a curt, “Unpleasant.” Frisk took a long, slow breath and went on, “One day I simply had enough and ran away. All the way up Mount Ebott and that is where I fell into the Underground.”

Stretch didn’t say anything, but his expression must’ve given him away, or maybe his hands, his joints nearly creaking as he clasped them tightly together. He knew this story, nearly this exact story, told to him by a child who right now should be safely living back in Ebott with their adopted father.

Frisk’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. “No, not your Underground. Theirs. Red and Edge’s.”

Stretch glanced at Edge. He was still washing the cooking pans, pink rubber gloves incongruous against the pale of his bones, but the tilt of his head indicated he was listening. Realization was dawning with glacial slowness; a pair of skeleton brothers in the Underground coming to the surface along with a Human child. He knew this story because it was his own, and more than that.

“you’re talking about the multiverse,” Stretch said slowly.

Of course. He could have slapped himself silly for his stupidity. He’d never even considered their situation might be similar; the age differences threw him off, far more than they should have. Sans was of an age with him, Papyrus a match to Blue. Red was so obviously much older than Stretch it hadn’t even clicked, seriously, was he that off his game? That should’ve been his first thought and instead, it never made it on his list.

But then, none of them really liked to talk about it much, either. Sans and Papyrus sure weren’t bringing up how they ended up here, didn’t take any kind of magic to see the shadows lurking in the depths of their eye lights even now. They’d just showed up one day in Snowdin right before Chara did, two skeletons from another world that seemed so hurt by their pasts that Stretch and Blue let them keep the names and took on nicknames of their own. Turned out it was easy to forget, somehow, that they hadn’t always been there, easy to let a sort of shroud fall over that knowledge. Not like Stretch wasn’t used to it when it came to his past.

Only now the veil was getting ripped away. Edge and Red weren’t only other Monsters, they were other Monsters, holy shit, and they’d been here for how long?

“Yes,” Frisk nodded as if reading his mind, and wasn’t that a terrifying thought. “And we’ve learned that time can flow differently beneath the mountain. It seems that I arrived in their Underground some years before your child fell.”

Their smile faltered, faded, the silence broken by the sound of running water and the soft clatter of dishes in the sink. “Their Underground was...well. It was a place of LV, not love. Their king was mad and when I came to the castle…well.” Frisk shuddered, looking away from Stretch’s numb gaze. A bony hand settled on their shoulder, sharpened fingertips cautious, and Frisk looked up at Edge with something like gratitude. “we were the only survivors. We took the Human souls that the King had collected and went past the barrier, the three of us. Only, we were afraid of the humans’ reactions, so we hid ourselves from the people in Ebott and I brought Edge and Red back here. Backwater has always been fairly openminded when it comes to unusual folk and I thought they might be accepted here. I was right.”

Frisk hesitated then, choosing their words with care, “Backwater is a town that attracts certain things. Good things and bad things. The people here weren’t surprised to meet us.” Their eyes took on a faraway look. “In fact, they were expecting us. As I said, the town attracts good and bad things, and it needs watching over. When we arrived, the current caretaker was old and weakening. They were calling for a suitable replacement and I suppose I was perfect for the job. Not only had I been touched by magic in the Underground, I was also once in the possession of six other Human souls, and that touched me. Changed me, in a way. And so, we took over as caretakers, Edge and I.” Frisk straightened their shoulders, lifting their chin as they said, firmly, “I am the keeper of the town’s soul.”

“And I am their protector,” Edge said. They were first words he’d spoken since Frisk began, each one resonating with strength far beyond the spoken, not a mere statement, he said it as something known. Then he offered a faint smile, almost sheepish, as he added, “I also make pies and pastries to sell in town.”

“And that’s my story,” Frisk finished. They seemed almost nervous, watching Stretch, perhaps waiting for a reaction.

Stretch didn’t know what was on his face, but he sure knew what was rattling around in his head and that was one simple, weak thought, I could really use a cigarette right about now.

He sagged back in his chair and let his head drop down into his hands. This was all…fuck. This wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting, well, mostly, anyway. He’d been more right than he knew about one thing; a witch did live here, sorta, cauldron or not.

“okay,” Stretch said, more to himself than the two people waiting on the other side of the table. “okay, that’s. yeah.”

A hand settled on his shoulder and Stretch yelped, nearly scrambling away from the unexpected touch. He fell off the other side of the chair with a painful thud, fighting to untangle his legs from the tablecloth. Still standing on the other side, Edge only held his hands up in a stick-‘em-up gesture and didn’t try to touch him again. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“you think?” Stretch sputtered. He managed to get his feet loose but didn’t try to stand; the floor seemed a lot more secure right about now. “fuck, you guys should’ve put that in a damn book instead of all those addresses and gave me time to read the footnotes! wait,” Stretch rolled to his hands and knees, and crawled around the table to look at Frisk, “so what does that make red? why does red live in town and not out here?”

Edge answered him first, a touch sharply, “You’ll need to ask him that.”

Frisk only looked saddened, a shadow falling across their Chara-esque face. “Yes, that is his story to tell.”

Fair enough. Stretch sank back down, rubbing a knuckle between his aching sockets as he considered. “okay, hold up. what about edgar allen?”

“After all that, you’re still worried about the scarecrow?” Edge sounded torn between amusement and offense.

“yeah, i am!” Stretch retorted. He might be a moron on any given day, but he didn’t forget about pals in the face of earth-shattering revelations. “that explanation filled up a lot of the questions on the form, but how does any of it explain edgar allen?” He pointed a finger at Frisk. “edge said he’s gonna die in the fall and you’d know why!”

“Die?” Frisk considered that, nodding slowly, “I suppose that’s accurate, in a way, but it’s also not. Growing things have a power of their own, you know. The corn, the garden, they give life, and that is something the town needs.” Frisk spread their hands, their empty palms up. “But what they offer is without conscious. Townsfolk aren’t in any real danger, but strangers can be, and aside from the loss of life, which I don’t want, we also don’t need to draw the attention of outsiders. Since I came here, every year I call upon a harvest spirit to watch over the crops, to protect the corn and the people who might wander into it. Edgar Allen came to us in the spring and he’ll leave us in the fall, but he’ll return, next year, after a fashion. He always does.”

A harvest spirit. Right. Edge and Red were from another Universe, along with a kid who wasn’t Chara, the scarecrow was a harvest spirit, and Stretch was quietly going nuts inside his own head. Seriously, Stretch should’ve been taking notes, this info dump was gonna take a while to process.

He sat there a while on the floor, trying to gather up his scattered wits, and nope, it was not happening. This was a three-cigarette problem, and he was starting to get eager to get started on renewing his nicotine habit. A glance out the window confirmed that the light outside was going soft and golden, the sun low in the sky. “well. uh. thanks for dinner and all, but i better get going if i’m gonna get home before dark.” Not his best speech, but then, Stretch was definitely not at his best.

“Of course,” Frisk stood, and their smile was gentle. “Please, visit again, Stretch. It was lovely to meet you.”

Edge stepped up again and this time, Stretch didn’t flinch from him. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

He held out a hand and Stretch took it without thinking. It jolted him unexpectedly, a soft cry choked off before it could escape. That simple touch was strangely electric, warm, bare bones curling with such gentleness against his own. Absurdly, it settled him, helped eased the roiling confusion boiling in his mind.

It was in a near daze that he let Edge draw him silently to his feet, pulling him along like a puppet on a string. Stretch barely managed a vague wave in Frisk’s direction as he walked with Edge out the door, and if his gaze automatically fell downward to watch the sway of Edge’s hips as he walked, welp, it wasn’t like there was anyone else around to notice.

At least, Stretch didn’t think so, might be better not to ‘ass of u and me’ around this place, even if all he was doing was watching someone’s ass.

Better safe than sorry; going forward, that was gonna be his motto. Right after he got back to Red’s on his ramshackle motorized bike.

~~*~~

tbc

[daikini-in-the-twilyhtmist]

Oracle of the White Rabbit

I was recently quite excited to learn about the newest Matrix movie, which was kind of weird for me, as I haven't been much into tv & movies for quite a while now. To my surprise, it was the soundtrack to the preview that immediately captured my attention - almost more then the preview itself... and then it got stuck in my head - for DAYS, on repeat. 

**Cue the Morpheus voiceover: "What you know you can't explain, but you feel it.... You don't know WHAT it is, but it's there - like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."** Yeah, that song was dead set on getting my attention.

When I finally got rid of it, I started realizing a few days later that I understood it beyond the surface meaning; and basically, I decoded the story that it was telling - it turns out to be all about right NOW. Is it prophetic? Subconscious social engineering? Quantum entanglement between the life and the art, so that they mirror and reflect each other? Who knows...  

It appears to me to be a sort of trigger, or a reminder of what to do when the time comes, of what you NEED to do - and yes, I realize that this sounds very MK ultra secret agent-y; but it is what it is. I assumed it was probably just a message for me, but then I had 2 separate YouTuber's basically confirm the message in their own unique way, and then supplied additional info that is... quite compelling and pertinent to keep in mind, and utilize. So I'll link those two vids below the song decoding portion, but please watch them as they have some VERY helpful info in them - especially the 2nd half of Naughty Beav's vid, the Alba Weinman part. Anyways, here's the song with lyrics, and the decode I got for it:

https://youtu.be/YE3ZXm92CJ0

Preface: The story overall is describing the multidimensional aspects of the human being, and how certain "controllers" have manipulated the general population into thinking that we are only ONE SINGLE aspect (i.e. this linear 3D realm template of a human) of our various extended selves - and have waged war (and still are) to maintain that control over us to keep their positions power.

Song: White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane

ONE PILL MAKES YOU LARGER AND ONE PILL MAKES YOU SMALL These “pills” are alternate dimensional perspectives - the actual embodiment of them from a larger and smaller POV - Annunaki are generally around 10-16 feet tall, and the Fae are considered to be tiny little elemental beings; BOTH sizes make you visit WONDERLAND though! You can SEE & FEEL that there is MORE beyond just this vessel and life viewpoint, more to YOU that goes on to other places where this particular body-ego cannot. AND THE ONES (pills) THAT MOTHER GIVES YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING AT ALL The world perspectives and programs installed in our parents are for a different agenda, time and place - they've since expired and are therefore useless to us... those POV's just don't do anything, except stagnate you. GO ASK ALICE (<your inner child, direct connection to Source Creator) WHEN SHE'S 10 FEET TALL (<in her Annunaki 5th dimensional or above form) Oh yeah, I'd LOVE to see you try and argue those belief systems with THAT version of her/YOU, that'll be fun! Good luck with that, BwahahaaHaahaaa!!!

AND IF YOU GO CHASING RABBITS This "You" ISN'T YOU - it's a hypothetical scenario. As in: If YOU were part of a group of dark, nefarious beings, who CAN'T timeline jump to higher realms on their own, but wanted to... wouldn't YOU chase those 'rabbits', to sneak in after them, (or somehow piggyback on them) to go thru the (portals) tunnels that they naturally create? Well... wouldn't you?!!! AND YOU KNOW YOU'RE GOING TO FALL These beings know their time is limited; as the energetic  frequencies of the earth raises - LITERALLY - we have to ELEVATE with Earth (or die, as it’s not compatible); but they can only FALL since they cannot follow us - their heavier energies & choices aligned with that vibe basically anchor them down. When the Earth sheds those lower energies, they appear to “fall’ - Earth rides a sine wave up and down in a continuous cycle; right now the rollercoaster is ascending. TELL 'EM A HOOKAH SMOKING CATERPILLER HAS GIVEN YOU THE CALL Say it with me: COVER STORY!!! So just tell them that you've contacted extraterrestrials, or "Ashtar Command" in a higher dimension, who relays "guidance" to you while you're in a channeling state of mind... exchange your religious/guru worship programming (it’s SO last year) for an unvetted channeled source to worship and obey blindly instead. Pick your poison, ‘cuz dying is fun (whether that be literal, spiritual or otherwise).FYI: I am anti-establishment regarding religions; your connection to Source Creator is meant to be direct & personal, always growing - those outside things are GUIDEPOSTS for consideration and participation when you deem it useful. Not necessary, though, and CERTAINLY not mandatory... they can be helpful though, nevertheless. CALL ALICE WHEN SHE WAS JUST SMALL No doubt they WOULD try to contact you while you were young and vulnerable (and they might have already) - train a child up in the way they should go, and all that. It applies whether it be physically done or in the astral/dream state - it's also prime alien abduction time, in both cases, too: it happens most often around the 3-10 years old timeframe, generally. **Alternatively, this could mean that YOU need to recall your inner child/younger self, when you were more pure - and RECONNECT to (the true you, prior to life’s enforced programming) yourself from there, as a means of counteracting and recognizing any false “messages of light”.**

WHEN THE MEN ON THE CHESSBOARD This is the Masonic, Illuminati and other controller group factions (alphabet agencies included) - The chessboard is primarily associated with the Masonic lodges, though, like the ladder - it's their way of bypassing the middle path (opening the 3rd eye, spiritually evolving through kundalini awakening and such), but still attempting to climb up to 'higher planes'... through magickal rituals and workings of one sort or another, I think. The Sun and Moon pillars are on either side, the battle of fire and Ice. THEY are the ones that "play the game" with humanity, as it were, and “set the stage” on the gameboard in many ways.

It’s like this in their art and iconography...

But it’s like THIS in the physical body structure, see:

Side Note: I learned this and wrote it down/drew it up by watching and following Lavette's channel on YouTube - her channel is under this (her real) name, so if you want to understand & decode the esoteric symbology and all that, check her out, she has a wealth of knowledge to share...  it's great stuff!!!

Anyways, moving on with the decode...

>> when the men on the chessboard << GET UP AND TELL YOU WHERE TO GO Or where you CAN'T go, or things you can’t go DO - lockdowns, anyone? AND YOU'VE JUST EATEN SOME KIND OF MUSHROOM Or taken some kind of drug, to check out (with alcohol, pharmaceuticals) as a means of coping; or perhaps just a medically coerced and/or forced untested injectable... that shall remain unnamed. (a la Voldemorte)  AND YOUR MIND IS MOVING LOW Because your consciousness and/or interdimensional capacities are capped, having been anchored down into lower frequencies due to your choices. ASK ALICE I THINK SHE'LL KNOW Ask your inner child/spiritual connection WHAT TO DO

WHEN LOGIC AND PROPORTION HAVE FALLEN SLOPPY DEAD That's RIGHT NOW, with the media, the actions of the government, corporations & the alphabet agencies - everything from them is WAY out of proportion, (they're self contradicting) and illogical...  it's “fallen sloppy dead” is about as literal of a description as you can get. AND THE WHITE KNIGHT IS TALKING BACKWARDS Is this Biden? Maybe Trump? Could be whomever you deem to be our hero, or fixate on as a knight "in shining armor" charging to our rescue, I suppose. AND THE RED QUEEN'S "OFF WITH HER (THEIR) HEAD!!!" The red queen is the sentient A.I. computer located under the airport in Colorado from what I understand... so this could be indicating the weather warfare or DEW, the internet consciousness battlefront, or a whole host of other things that could be directed by that (besides the jabs), which seeks to kill off a great swath of humanity. The Red Queen could also be a means to direct the jib-jabbed peoples like zombies when they're "turned on" like antennas, once the graphene in the injectables does its work. It would certainly explain all the “zombie apocalypse” protocols and policies that have been made by certain corporations and agencies - all of which was done in a serious manner... so here’s that.

So, now THIS is where it gets interesting (for me, anyways).

Every. Single. Time. That I hear this next verse, I hear it spoken a DIFFERENT way, like a glitch that simultaneously layers a different version on top of the other one, so that they are both communicated at once. This is the 'secret key', the ANSWER - remember, this part of the song says: When this & that happens, and when this person and that ‘person’ are acting THIS WAY - THEN:

REMEMBER WHAT THE DORMOUSE SAYS Dormouse - a tiny squirrel-like mouse, that is rather famous for being able to HIBERNATE for EXTENDED PERIODS OF TIME - sometimes 6 months of the year, or more, if the temperatures stay cold enough. The lower the frequency, the cooler the temperature, usually. (The Sleeper MUST Awaken! ~ Dune) << This word - Dormouse - transforms into DHARMA. So the verse: "Remember what the Dormouse said" turns into "Remember what the DHARMA SAYS". For more on dharma, see here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dharma

The dormouse speaks of the head - waking up and remembering mentally; but when it morphs into dharma, it speaks of the heart waking up; and returning to it’s inherent wisdom, returning to the spirit-soul self. So that is the key message that keeps coming thru on this:

Remember what the dormouse/dharma Says: FEED YOUR HEAD-HEART CONNECTION (and stack your dharma)!!! Spiritual GAINS, baby!

The final verse is repeated twice; I believe this indicates that the areas to apply it to are your outward actions here in the outer world, and your inner realm locals: your thoughts and feelings. FEED the CONNECTION on each level, to be and do good, and to stand up in integrity and defend that sacred space on EACH LEVEL whenever it's needed. The mind-heart connection and coherence part is actually mentioned specifically in The Naughty Beaver video linked below, too... but there will undoubtedly be internal emotional and mental attacks that only you can recognize and shield against, or fight back against to maintain your inner calm and wholeness of spirit. The stronger the mind-heart coherence is, though, the higher you vibe naturally; so it grants you a certain level of protection automatically - I feel that's why they push the jab-berwocky so hard through social/economic pressure, and emotional guilt and gaslighting; to block that potential before you ever reach it, so you can still be "hacked", or locked down, energetically. 

Feed your head = higher mind = higher perspective. Maintain THAT, then ACT FROM THERE. (Faith without works is dead, yo) See the other two vids below, and thank you for reading thus far. You/We’ve got this - Be Excellent to (yourself and) Each Other... and Party On!

The “Naughty Beaver” confirmation, perspective & guidance on this: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHeDnhc8Jfg

The “YellowRoseforTexas” standpoint and confirmation:

https://youtu.be/tmYdSFj3WYE

As a final thought... look how unbelievably FREAKING CUTE dormice are IRL! ! ! ! KAWAII ! ! !

[medea10]

My Review of Zombieland Saga REVENGE

Yes, Franchouchou has come back after a two and a half year hiatus.

HISTORY: Zombieland Saga is an idol show.

I have already cut my readership in half with that one sentence alone. But this is no ordinary idol show! A maniacal necromancer named Kotarou Tatsumi brings seven girls back from the dead. A former idol from the 1980’s (Junko), a former idol from the 2010’s (Ai), a child star from the 2010’s (Lily), a girl with idol aspirations from 2008 (Sakura), a former biker gang chick from 1997 (Saki), a courtesan from the 19th century (Yugiri), and Yamada Tae! There’s no describing what exactly Yamada Tae is but we don’t question it as she’s best girl.

Kotarou brought these seven girls back to life in order to save the Saga area and revitalize it. Throughout the first 12 episodes, we watch these girls get the hang of being alive again after so long and become an idol group. With Kotarou’s make-up skills, he’s able to fool nearly everybody that these girls are living, breathing idols. Almost everybody! At the end of the series, we get one guy who caught on about Lily, Ai, and Junko. But enough about that! Let’s see how successful Franchouchou has gotten since we last left the series.

REVENGE: So this sequel begins with the girls doing odd-jobs trying to earn as much money as they possibly can. Normally, the girls would do odd gigs that Kotarou was able to conjure up and that’s been good publicity for their group Franchouchou. However, they came into some money problems when they gambled and lost. It’s no doubt that their performance in the 12th episode was a banger and gave Franchouchou a boost in the idol scene. However, they aimed too high by renting out a big amphitheater to have a concert and only 1.6% capacity was filled. So the performance that night was a crash and burn type of thing. The after-effect put the girls in the hole (money wise) and Kotarou spends his days getting drunk at bars.

Seriously, look at this guy! He looks like a drunk, fourth season Eren Yeager. Kinda hard watching Kotarou looking so sad, pathetic, and drunk! It wasn’t until the girls had to perform at a metal concert arena that Kotarou got a kick in the pants. The fool arrives to the performance hella late, screaming for an encore when the audience is totally not vibing for one. And the girls end up singing while the audience goes in (for a lack of a better term) a Blues Brothers style rumble. The important thing is that Kotarou is feeling better and is ready to send his little zombie songbirds out to save the Saga prefecture.

Throughout the season, we follow the girls of Franchouchou as they regain some popularity they obtained last season. Will they do it? In the first 4 episodes, the group gained their own radio show and Ai’s old group (before she died) Iron Frill considered them as rivals. I think they’ll be okay!

BUT WAIT…: What about that photographer fella we saw all last season? He was quickly catching onto Ai, Junko, and Lily looking a little too close in resemblance to the girls that died years ago. Slowly throughout the series, we see him get closer to the truth.

NEW IDOL?: Oh God, did Kotarou commit taboo once again by bringing another girl back from the dead?

No…It was sadly much worse.

While at a public bathhouse, a girl (not wearing her prescription glasses) entered the men’s side, slipped on some soap, and was knocked unconscious. Thinking she died, Kotarou brings her body back to the girls (who aren’t wearing their makeup) saying this girl will be #7 in Franchouchou. And just like I said, she is not dead and now she knows that the idol group she loves are dancing zombies.

Kotarou is truly fucking up royally this season.

Anyways, this is Maimai! She’s a fan of Franchouchou and ends up becoming a temporary member of the group as #7 (for the episode). And, she’s voiced by Kana Hanazawa! If you don’t know who she is by now, blow me. It’s a little scary knowing that there’s one person out there that knows about the secret. But Maimai is much too loyal a fan to ruin something for everyone and is totally chill about her favorite idol group really being zombies.

THE TWO UNSOLVED MYSTERIES: As much as many of us loved the first season to Zombieland Saga, there were two characters we wished got more play and we knew a little more about. Yugiri and Yamada Tae! Tae-chan has been the enigmatic idol from day one. And due to her possible mental disability, we might never know. However, in one episode we do see her stopping off at a cemetary and I do believe that was her own grave.

As for Yugiri, even the detective can’t dig up info on her. She was around in the late 1800s or the Meiji era and there’s only one known photo in existence of Yugiri before her death. This season, we got a two-episode saga to bring us the good word on Saga and its importance. We got a bit of a history lesson about the Saga prefecture during the Meiji era and even what it was like before then. And yes, we did learn how Yugiri died and her connection to Saga. It was quite sad, but definitely one of the best episodes of the series.

BEST SONG: Didn’t think I’d have one for this franchise.

Saga Jihen from episode 9.

Nuff said.

ENDING: Well, we learned some extra details on what happened during the fall and rise of Franchouchou. This mostly has to do with Kotarou’s gamble with booking a huge arena for the girls to perform in. First of all, this arena was the place of Ai’s death. You member! When she was electrocuted right there on stage! Second of all, they didn’t sell the tickets until the day of the concert. What was that end result again? 1.6% capacity filled! Even in Covid-19 times, that’s fucking small. Granted, the audience was full of those memorable fans from season one including Saki’s friend’s daughter, Lily’s father, and the two metal jackasses. But still, not a good! The girls hit a brick wall and felt embarrassed. This was the worst moment for these girls (aside from dying once). After the disasterous event, they were millions of yen in debt, they’re running out of essentials for the house, and Kotarou has gone on a two-month drinking binge. It was then that they decided to do makeup themselves and go out in the world to earn a living and eventually pay off the debt.

Thankfully, they were able to get out of debt and regained their popularity throughout Saga and further. Saki has managed to get a radio show. Iron Frill (Ai’s old group) sees Franchouchou as a worthy rival. Lily gained a lot of fame in a televised competition. So what’s next? Kotarou apologized to Franchouchou for his big mistake the previous year and him spiraling out of control. Seconds later, he announces that their revenge will be to perform at the very same arena that fucked up their career the year prior.

Boy, you do NOT learn your lesson, do you?!

More trouble is on the rise as that reporter who caught on about the girls being zombies has confronted Kotarou. We finally circled back to the final scene from season one. This guy has caught on to the fact that the girls of Franchouchou resemble girls that died. The only one that he couldn’t dig up dirt on was Yugiri. Possibly because the only known evidence for existence is a photo at the bar! What’s more, he has a sneaking suspicion that the girls of Franchouchou are all zombies. In a prior episode, the reporter snapped a picture at the right time exposing Yamada Tae’s head rolling around on the ground. Dude is ready to go public with the story of the girls of Franchouchou being zombies resurrected from the dead unless Kotarou pulls the plug on everything. Kotarou simply said that the girls will get their revenge and will perform at the arena.

And then…a storm hit Saga!

There was a lot of damage around town. And worst off was Kotarou’s place, as it was ripped from its foundation, thrown into the sea, and crumbled into nothing after coming ashore. Worst of all, the special makeup the girls use to hide their zombie state was in that wreckage. Meanwhile, Kotarou spent several days trapped in a bar with the bar owner and nearly drowned. The girls ended up in a safety shelter with nearly the entire Saga prefecture. The good thing is because they’re town celebrities that they were given a top floor to themselves for privacy. The bad thing is that they’ve been here for days and their makeup is starting to come off, exposing zombies. And to make matters worse, that nosy reporter who knows the girls are zombies is also staying at the shelter (though the girls don’t know he knows). The girls decided to use Junko’s doll-crafting paintset to make masks to hide behind. That lasted only five seconds while trying to entertain the children of the shelter.

This is it. The girls are exposed as zombies.

Actually, the kids and parents thought this was part of the act and thought Franchouchou was lifting up the spirits of the arena. And in comes Kotarou just in time! Man, right under the wire. Now we’re like a few days from this planned concert and Saga is still recovering from the huge storm. Morale is quite low and it’s starting to look like a worse outcome for Franchouchou’s revenge than what happened one year ago. Saki used her platform on the radio to reach all of her viewers to see if they could try to come to the arena for their concert that is now a charity concert. So will this concert be a big success or a bigger flop than last year?

Actually, the arena was packed with people. Fans we’ve met in season one and new characters we met this season were even in attendance. Lily’s father ended up clearing away a lot of the debris so that concert goers could get through. Even Iron Frill (Ai’s old group) came in attendance! The concert was a huge success! And can I say that I’m really enjoying Yamada Tae’s Freddie Mercury impression on stage.

Don’t think you’re that clever, Zombieland Saga. We all know!

Yes, the concert was perfect! A great revenge! They even made Kotarou (a grown-ass man) cry. Even the reporter is willing to keep his trap shut (for now) about the girls being zombies. And best of all, NO ONE CAUGHT COVID-19! Yeah, I have to bring that up. The date of the concert was March 8th, 2020. Ahem. March. 2020. But yeah, everything went great. Perfect ending for Zombieland Saga Reven…

AND THEN AN ALIEN MOTHERSHIP COMES IN AND ZAPS THE AREA!

Huh?!

Who wrote that in the script? Some jerkass from Gainax?!

The last 15 seconds of Zombieland Saga leaves us with some sort of unidentified flying object zapping the area. Only Zombieland Saga can get away with this shit. Well folks, let’s see what’s in store for season three, Zombieland Saga: Zombies in Space or Sagapendence Day Zomb-Trek: Deep Space Seven.

Yeah, I know nothing has been greenlit or announced yet, but you know Studio Mappa has something up their sleeves with that ending. Once again, I enjoyed Zombieland Saga’s charm. I didn’t know if there was much more they could offer us after the first season’s stories, like learning how the girls died, Sakura’s past, and especially Lily’s backstory. This season, I wish there was more Yamada Tae. Come on guys, we still don’t know how she died or anything about her past! And what’s up with Yamada Tae being buried next to Sakura? Did they know each other before passing away? I want some answers! But I was blown away when it came to Yugiri’s saga and the tale of Saga itself. We got a literal history lesson about what Saga was once, what it became after a long struggle, the pain some folks went to in order to keep Saga thriving, and all leading up to where we are now.

This was a fun season. I had a lot more fun with the music this season than the previous one. Yeah, believe it or not I liked the songs Franchouchou sang this season than last season. Never a dull moment, especially with Kotarou! Yeah, his crazy-ass was totally there making absolutely no fucka sense. Take that competition Lily entered.

What the fuck was Kotarou doing? That was an epic fail on so many levels.

Well folks, whenever season three or whatever sequel may come, I’m hoping for more information involving Yamada Tae. And you know what else was severely missing from this season, Kotarou’s past with Sakura. I didn’t forget that flashback from season one and those couple of seconds this season aren’t enough to satisfy my hunger. Those are the two things I would like to know more about in whatever comes of the franchise. Otherwise, great time had by all!

Once more, if you are not a fan of idol shows, this is the only one I would highly recommend Zombieland Saga. Crunchyroll has both seasons available for streaming. FUNimation is now dubbing the second season as we speak.

[petri808]

@kyoruweekofficial One Bed prompt

What do you do when you have two co-workers who obviously have crushes on each other, but neither have the guts to make a move? Well, according to Arisa Uotani, you make it for them. So, with the help of co-conspirator Saki Hanajima, the pair decide to play Cupid and stage a romantic intervention. For you see, Saki is the project manager at their company, and it was her job to schedule conference attendances for the employees. How lucky for them that the perfect opportunity presented itself. Oh, this was going to be good! They just wished they could have been there to see it.

The longer the hotel receptionist talked, the more Tohru could feel her ears burning and her cheeks turning a cherry tomato color. “W-Wait a minute, are you telling me we were booked into the same hotel room?!”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s what your company booked for you and Mr. Sohma. Four days in our honeymoon suite while you attend the conference. Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, there’s a problem!” Kyo Sohma, Tohru’s co-worker grits back. “Our company must have made a mistake, so change the booking to two separate rooms.”

“I’m really sorry sir, but the hotel is at full capacity because of the conference, so I can’t do that. If there’s a cancellation later, I could put in a request, but that’s all I can offer.”

“It’s okay, Kyo,” Tohru’s meek voice cuts in before the man has a chance to respond. “There’s nothing this lady can do and it’s just three days, so w-we can figure something out.”

He turns and realizes just how embarrassed his co-worker looked. Though her eyes were averted to the ground, her rosy cheeks, and the glow in her face, stops him cold. Fuck, she looked so cute like that! “Fine,” he feels the heat in his face increasing, “then just give us our keys please, so we can be on our way.”

Kyo takes hold of both their luggage handles, “grab it from the woman,” he tells Tohru and walks toward the elevator to wait.

“I’m really sorry,” Tohru apologizes to the receptionist. “This was a surprise for us.”

“Don’t worry, mistakes happen ma’am.” She placed the items on the counter. “Here are your card keys that includes the WiFi password on the sleeve along with instructions. If you require any extra amenities, do not hesitate to call the front desk for assistance. You’re scheduled to be here for three nights and four days, with check out at 11am on Thursday. Again, I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Not your fault.” Tohru politely thanks the woman and grabs the items, then joins Kyo to head towards their room.

While he waited, Kyo fumed over the whole situation. Being sent to the same conference as Tohru was the first red flag, but not completely out of the norm since they were working on the same project, so he’d chalked it up to coincidence. But now the receptionist said it was a honeymoon suite. Why would Saki book them a honeymoon suite! Rhetorical question, he had a pretty damn good suspicion on the answer. ‘Those two meddlers!’

“Kyo, I have the keys. The room is on the top floor.”

He’d been so focused on his mental dialogue, Tohru’s voice suddenly right beside him, catches him off guard. His body stiffens for a second as if caught in the act of a crime. “Great.” He acts like nothing’s wrong and hits the up button for the elevator. ‘Just... great...’

As soon as they walk in, the pair deadpan at the interior of the room. What did they expect when they’d heard the worlds ‘honeymoon suite,’ a normal hotel room? ‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me?!’ Kyo let’s go of the luggage handles and makes a visual sweep, before landing on the single bed near the window. Not only were they sharing a room, but sharing a bed, and a bathroom for four days! ‘They’re dead. Saki and Arisa are so dead when we get home!’ What the hell were they thinking by sticking us in this kind of a room! ‘If they’re so hell bent on hooking us up, have they ever heard of a blind date?!’

Tohru at this point was faring no better, but instead of frustration her emotions ran more along the lines of simple embarrassment. She was starting to realize that this whole situation was set up by their friends, and she didn’t know if she should thank them or never speak to them again. Because deep down, she was a little excited for this opportunity to be closer to him, and also terrified if Kyo happened to feel the same way. Saki and Arisa were adamant that the man liked her too, a lot, and maybe he, they just needed a push to get things moving. But this was a pretty big push!

“I could just sleep on the floor?”

“What?! No,” what kind of man does she take him for? “I’m not gonna let you sleep on a floor, that’s crazy Tohru. I-it’ll— it’ll be fine,” Adam’s apple bobbing hard, “it’s a big bed, w-we can make it work.” ‘Have to make it work.’

“O-Okay,” she smiles and pretends that everything really is so. If they were going to be stuck in this situation, they might as well make the best of it. “It’s a really pretty room.”

For that Kyo had to agree, and he wondered just how Saki was able to justify its rental in company records. The color ambiance screamed love and romance. Come on, a velvet red bed frame, matching love seat and contrasting white bedding. Red walls, red curtains, and dark cherry oak furnishings really heightened the overall affect. The full bar was definitely getting tapped tonight!

They go about their business pretending everything was fine, hanging up clothes and putting away their things, setting up the bathroom with their items in a ‘his and hers’ manner. If they were going to be stuck together, they needed to be civil and not let things get too awkward. Or so they hoped. At least they had things to prepare for the conference to keep busy, information to go over including a booklet that was sent ahead of time to familiarize themselves with the schedule. The organizers planned on break-out sessions for participants to meet with others working on similar ideas so they could bounce ideas off of each other. It was interesting add on considering these are competitors, but because green initiatives has been a focus for the government, they’ve pushed for more collaborative efforts.

When dinner time rolls around, the pair go to the hotel’s restaurant for convenience, since it was on the property. It had fairly decent reviews on its food offerings, and Kyo was more than ready to have a few beers to settle his nerves. They put the meal on a company credit card. Tohru orders a simple meal, but Kyo spares no opportunity to take full advantage of the most expensive offerings. ‘Saki can kiss my ass on the bill!’

He was quite surprised when Tohru ordered a glass of wine cause he’d heard she wasn’t much of a drinker. Kyo chuckles in his head, she probably needed a relaxer just like him. It irritated him a bit to know other guests probably assumed they were a couple. They sure did look like one, on a date, a romantic one at that, and he swore the server had almost asked, then changed their question at the last second.

By Kyo’s third beer, Tohru’s rosy complexion was really making it hard to stay professional. He knew it was just the alcohol working, but it made her look nervous and embarrassed in a first date kind of way. So innocently adorable, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. They managed to keep the conversation casual, but it was slowly becoming evident, they’d had other thoughts going through their minds.

When the server returns with their credit card slip, the man asks them if they were there for the conference to which they reply yes. “So, you’re co-workers, not a couple?”

“Yeah, why,” Kyo responds to the man.

But instead of answering Kyo, the server brazenly turns to Tohru instead. “I think you’re really pretty, and since I’m about to finish my shift, I was wondering if you’d like to go to a club with me?”

“Eh?” Tohru freezes, “I-I...”

Kyo stands up quick as a flash, getting right into the servers face. He jabs a finger into the man’s chest. “Fuck off guy, or I’ll report you to management!” He then grabs Tohru’s hand and pulls her away from the table, “let’s go!” Oh, he was so pissed! Co-workers or not, the balls on this guy to pull such a stunt right in front of him, what the hell was he thinking?! ‘He’s lucky I didn’t knock him on his ass!’

She knew better than to say a word and simply let Kyo pull her away towards the elevators. It was a little weird, wonderful, surprising, and frankly endearing for him to have defended her like that. Her cheeks were now heating up for other reasons, and the warmth of his hand in hers made her feel special. Did he realize he was still gripping tightly to her hand? Even as they stood there waiting for the elevator and the threat now over, he held on. As she watches his face carefully through her periphery, his serious expression wasn’t wavering. So, hoping not to startle him, and to avoid further embarrassment when he realized what he was doing, Tohru gently squeezes his hand back.

“Yeah?” Kyo’s eyes flare wide. “Oh!” Shit! He lets go. “My apologies.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles softly and keeps her voice low. “Thank you for defending me back there.”

“It was nothing,” he turns his head to hide his blush, mumbling a response. “That guy had some nerve interrupting us like that.”

Safely inside their hotel room, the pair preps for a quiet evening. Tohru changes into a comfortable set of pajamas, while Kyo sticks with a t-shirt and cotton shorts. Nothing racy at all. He offers her another drink as he grabs a beer and again is surprised when she takes another glass of red wine. “You know,” he questions as he pours the glass for her, “everyone said you’re not a drinker.”

She sits down on the bed and takes the offered glass, placing the rim to her lips as if to muffle her words. “I’m usually not,” Tohru answers honestly, but leaves out more details like she needed a bit of courage juice to make it through the evening.

Leaving about a foot of space between them, Kyo sits down on the bed as well. He takes a deep swig of the bottle. “Me neither.” Which was true, he only drank on occasion when he’d go out with friends. But tonight, it was keeping his nerves in check.

They sit there quietly in a companionable silence, sipping their drinks and lost in thoughts of what to say or do next. Kyo would never try to take advantage of Tohru, but the desire to make a move ate away at him, practically screamed to do something to break the stalemate. He’s had such a major crush on the sweet woman for so long, but he always thought he wasn’t good enough for her. As far as Kyo was concerned, Tohru was a perfect complement to his more outgoing nature, and yet deserved someone better. Their co-workers teased him so much about the crush too. Ugh, his cousin Hatsuharu kept telling him if he didn’t make a move soon, he’d steal Tohru. It was a hollow threat considering the man was already seeing another woman, but it still got under his skin.

He could still remember the day Tohru was hired to his family’s company. She was friends with Saki and Arisa, and they’d given the woman glowing reviews so the Co-CEO Shigure Sohma decided to give her a chance. Tohru walked into his office confused trying to figure out where she was supposed to go, and it was love at first sight. That was two years ago.

Tohru could feel the effects of the second glass of wine coming on stronger than the first one had hit her. Which is what she wanted to happen. It made her feel much more relaxed, but not quite drunk, and warmed up in the cooler air conditioning of the room. It wasn’t however, helping with the courage department. She wanted to ask him so badly, just to finally know where she stood, if Kyo had any romantic interests in her. What if he said no? But what if he said yes?!

“That guy was right...” Kyo suddenly breaks the stalemate. “You are very pretty.”

Eh?! “I, um, thank you,” Tohru sputters but goes for the gold. “You’re very handsome too.”

When he looks at Tohru, Kyo finds her staring at the floor with her adorable red cheeks on fire. He chuckles inwardly and places his beer on the nightstand, then reaches over and takes the glass from her, placing it on the table as well. It was now or never. He tips her chin up and forces her eyes onto him. “May I?” His eyes zero in on her lips, communicating his desire. She nods sheepishly with her approval, eyes closing as he leans in and places a soft kiss on her lips.

This wasn’t her first kiss, but it was the best one by far. His lips were so soft and pressured, his fingers gently keeping her from pulling away. They move from her chin to cradles her cheek, his thumb sweeping lightly against her skin as their heads change in angle. Oh, it was such a sweet move! It’d been worth the wait! As he pulls away, Kyo places one final kiss on her forehead.

“We probably shouldn’t rush things but,” he takes her hand and kisses the back of it, “is it too forward to ask if we could cuddle tonight?”

Fuck no! Tohru squeals giddily in her head, but on the outside kept her cool. She smiles and squeezes his hand back. “I’d really like that.” And reminder to self to thank Saki and Arisa when we get home...

[virtchandmoir]

Tessa Virtue on retiring from skating, starting her MBA and the women who most inspire her

March 15, 2020

When we arrive on the Montreal set of RW&Co.'s spring campaign, the shoot is well under way. Tessa Virtue, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, is only too happy to show us around the styling room that has since become command central. Jewelry, accessories and shoes line nearly every surface, yet the ice-dancing superstar is unfazed, slipping into a pair of trendy white boots ahead of her next outfit switch.

For London, Ont.-born Tessa, 30, adapting to change is par for the course. Having announced her retirement from professional skating last fall after more than two decades (and five Olympic medals) on the ice with partner Scott Moir and wrapped their subsequent Stars on Ice tour, she's undaunted by what the future holds.

"It was a decision that, like most things in our career, came naturally," she tells HELLO! Canada of stepping away from competitive ice dancing. "We looked at each other one day and said, 'I really think this is it.' And it was as simple as that."

Perhaps because she made a name for herself as one half of a duo – albeit a gold-medalling one – Tessa (the youngest of four children) is keen to forge a path all her own. Having dipped her toe in fashion and beauty with several collaborations, she's ready to take on new challenges. Chief among these: studying for her MBA at Queen's University (she has almost completed her BA in psychology and holds an honorary doctorate from Western University) and launching her own business.

Modelling pieces from RW&Co.'s spring collection, Tessa says, "There's a refined sense of elegance to their clothing, but there's also this whimsical, fun element that allows people to express themselves in a really unique way. And I love finding that balance." Photo: © Andrew Soule

"I've always had this dream of building something from the ground up," shares the star. Love could be in the cards, too – Tessa reveals that she's taking a date to Scott's wedding this summer!

HELLO! Canada: How has your life changed since your retirement?

Tessa Virtue: I have to say, it feels quite natural to be off skates for extended periods of time now. I think without that singular focus of wanting to be the best, I don't feel such a void. What I might miss is the desire to perform and share in that moment with a crowd, or create something with Scott. It will be a task, to find a creative outlet in a different capacity – maybe business or school.

You're going back to school in September. Tell us about that decision.

I've stayed in school part-time, basically since I entered university when I was 17 – I'm just a few credits shy of my psychology degree. That semblance of normalcy of being on campus was important to me, feeling like I was broadening my horizons outside skating. And I've always known that I wanted to be in business. I have a very fierce entrepreneurial spirit, reinforced by being my own boss as an athlete. I'm so excited to embrace the MBA program. I can't wait – I think it will be just a thrilling challenge academically when I've done something physically for such a long time.

Does this mean you'll be able to put down roots?

It's funny, because in figuring out my schedule, that seems a little limiting already. Mentally, I'm fighting that restlessness because I've become so accustomed to life on the road. But I do think it will be healthy for me to be more grounded. It doesn't mean I have to say no to opportunities, but it will be nice to have my suitcases unpacked for longer than an hour! As it is, I'm home in London about one day a month. And every time I do get home, it's such a respite – it's calm, and as someone who's real-estate-obsessed, I'm always looking. I do look forward to being in Toronto a lot more.

Tessa and Scott at the 2018 Canada's Walk of Fame induction ceremony. The two, who are both from London, Ont., hold honorary Doctor of Law degrees from Western University. Photo: © George Pimentel/Getty Images

Are you hoping for more balance in your life?

Yes – I was so specialized for so long and now I'm trying on different hats, but that's also what's keeping me inspired after 20-some odd years of showing up at the rink and doing the same thing over and over again in the same way. I loved it, but that kind of lifestyle is difficult to maintain. And I realize now that [Scott and I ] did sacrifice a lot. You kind of live a life of depravity when you're training like that, and it's nice to feel somewhat free; it's liberating.

What are you incorporating into your life now that you couldn't before?

The biggest thing is personal relationships and friendships. Everyone in my life has been so supportive for such a long time, but that takes a toll. For me, quality time is the most important thing in any kind of relationship. It will be nice to establish that with the people closest to me, and reconnect and maybe redefine success, because I have to figure out who I am when I'm not in that Moulin Rouge costume.

It's clear you have a passion for fashion.

I come by that pretty honestly; my mom ( Kate) is the most stylish human I've ever met. It's how we express our individuality. I look to my wardrobe to help foster a sense of confidence and self-worth.

Scott and Tessa performing the routine that clinched them the ice-dancing gold medal at the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics. Photo: © MLADEN ANTONOV/AFP via Getty Images

What will you miss most about not seeing Scott every day?

We'll always have that deep-rooted respect for one another, but I'll miss being so in sync that we didn't even need to speak. I'll miss knowing his sense of humour inside and out and getting to share our fears and vulnerabilities. It builds such trust.

Are you taking a date to Scott's wedding to skater Jackie Mascarin in July?

Yes – I like keeping that part of my life really private. It's always something I've kept to myself and it's nice when you get to just enjoy that part of your life.

In honour of International Women's Day on March 8, 2019, Tessa was one of 20 female role models to be re-imagined as a Barbie doll. The only Canadian in the group, "Tessa, like other honourees, was chosen because through hard work, determination and dedication, she shows girls every day that you can be anything," said Lisa Perry, brand manager at Mattel Canada. Photo: © Mattel, Inc.

You inspire millions of women and girls. Do you have people who inspire you in your own life?

People laugh at me because I'm sort of obsessed with connecting with people who inspire me. [Olympic rower] Marnie McBean has been a mentor right from the beginning... and one of my best friends is [Olympic skier] Jennifer Heil. After the Olympics I thought I was unique, and that maybe because the high was so high, the low inevitably needed to be low, but [now I realize] everyone is facing change and dealing with transition. I'm not alone. And that's reassuring.

—HELLO! Canada

Click here for link to scanned article.

[iamthegaysmurf]

Ok 3 and 28 is so soft and already so wayhaught but I think I am going to request 24, please.

03.  forehead kisses28.  forehead touches or nose nudging or any soft variation on the theme24.  ‘just really needed a hug’ sort of a hug13.  family

@darienplays6688, I wasn’t sure if you were asking for #24 instead of #3 and #28, or if you wanted that in addition to both of them.  So…  I went ahead and included a little bit of those for you, too.  Just in case.

———-

Okay, so…  Here’s the thing.  I know these were all supposed to be “Super Soft And Fluffy” prompts, but…  I think my brain overloaded on all of the fluff that wrote during the last three or four of these prompt fills.  If I didn’t let out some of this bottled up angst, I’m pretty sure I was going to explode.

So, like…  That’s not to say that this doesn’t have some really soft moments in it (and a happy ending, of course), but there’s definitely some angsty stuff along the way, and it’s not what I would call “fluffy” by any stretch of the imagination.

I’m really sorry, guys.  But I just couldn’t do it.  I hope you can still find a way to enjoy this fic that you’re getting instead.  : /

———-

Set just a day or two after the end of 3x07, but before it picks up with any of the events of 3x08.  

Also, the scenes are not in chronological order.  It starts in the present, and then alternates between flashbacks and then back to the present again.  Should hopefully be pretty easy to follow, but just wanted to give you a head’s up.

———-

“Hey, Babygirl.  I think you might need to come down here.”

“What’s wrong?  Is it Nicole?  Is she hurt?”

“No, she’s okay.  She’s just, uh…  really quiet and kind of spacing out.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was stoned.  But this is Nicole ‘I have a lawbook shoved up my ass’ Haught we’re talking about here, so…”

“Wynonna.”

“Yeah.  Anyway.  I think maybe the stuff from today just kind of got to her a little.”

“Oh, god.  The little girl.  Was she…?”

“No!  No.  The kid’s fine.  Haught was a goddamn superhero today.  But don’t you fucking dare ever tell her I said that.”

“Where are you guys?  I’m packing up now.”

“You can meet us at the Shelterlands Forest Trailhead.”

“That’s where you guys are?  Fudgenuggets.  No wonder Nicole is spooked.  I’ll be there in like thirty minutes.”

“Half an hour?!”

“I’m at the library, Wynonna.  Unless one of you has figured out how to teleport yet, then it will take me thirty minutes to get all the way out there.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with your ginger poptart until then?  I think she’s slightly burnt right now instead of lightly toasted.”

“I don’t know, Wynonna…  Maybe try talking to her?”

“Come on, Waves.  You know I’m fucked when it comes to all of that soft and gooey feelings bullshit.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“Just… hurry.  You gotta fix your girlfriend before I end up breaking her even worse.”

//

“You sure you’re okay, Waves?”

“I’m fine, Wynonna,” Waverly answers, shoving notebooks and tomes into her bag.  “There’s nothing going on today.  I’m just gonna do a deep-dive into some of this research.  I’m tired of us always being two steps behind on everything.”

Wynonna understands the frustration.  They’ve been behind the 8-ball on this thing from the very beginning, dating all the way back to Wyatt himself.  

But she knows there’s more to Waverly’s mood, and it has everything to do with Mama skipping town again a couple of days ago.  At least she’d left a letter this time, but that had done little to quell Waverly’s heartbreak.  She doesn’t think Waverly had been completely caught off guard by the disappearance – it was less surprise, and more disappointed resignation – but that doesn’t mean she’s hurting any less.

Wynonna wishes there was more she could do to console Waverly, but to be completely honest, she still hasn’t quite recovered from the sting of it herself.  And that’s not counting the fact that she’d discovered Doc’s betrayal not five minutes after reading the warning Mama had left her.

Welcome to the shitshow, population: me.

“If you’re gonna do research all day, why are you packing everything up?” Wynonna eventually asks, worried about what Waverly might really be planning.  She’s not sure she has the energy, nor the mental capacity, to save her sister from some half-cocked mission she’s concocted to prove something to herself and everyone else in this godforsaken town.

“I’m just going to the library,” Waverly snaps, rolling her eyes.  “Didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

“Whoa, now,” Wynonna says, dropping her feet from the table they’ve been propped up on.  “Calm your tits there, girlie.  I was just wondering why you aren’t going to use the BBD office since everything is already here.”

“Sorry,” Waverly sighs heavily, her shoulders sagging as she drops into the nearest chair.  “It’s just…  Jeremy’s doing one of his experiments and he’s gonna be back any minute and I just don’t think I have it in me today to listen to him ramble all day.”  Shame causes her head to hang low, and she picks absentmindedly at one of the pockets on her bag.  “Nicole’s gonna be out on patrols all day to try and get her visibility up right before the election, so I can’t even use the desk in her office, and I just…  I just want to be alone with my books for a while.  My mind needs some peace and quiet,” she mumbles at the end with a half-hearted shrug.

Wynonna hesitates for a minute before finally biting the bullet and reaching out to place her hand over Waverly’s on the table between them.

“Whatever you need, Babygirl,” she says quietly, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “I’m here if you need anything.”

“I know,” Waverly says, eventually meeting Wynonna’s eye, but Wynonna can tell by the tremor in her voice that she doesn’t know.  That Mama’s selfishness has proven to be a crippling setback for Waverly, erasing the year and a half of progress that Wynonna and Nicole have been making toward helping Waverly believe they’ll never leave her.

Her baby sister may as well be at the bottom of the well that Bobo recently vacated, for all the good the past couple of months have done toward her abandonment issues.

Wynonna continues to hold Waverly’s gaze for a few more seconds, saddened by the doubt she finds there.  Squeezing her hand one last time, she finally leans over the table and kisses Waverly’s forehead.  She could kill Mama for what she’s done to Waverly again, and she could kill Doc for being complicit in her getaway.

She grits her teeth as she pulls back and stands from her chair.

That’s a problem for another day.

“So, you said Tater Haught’s gonna be on patrol all day?” Wynonna asks as casually as she can.

“Yes…”  Waverly looks Wynonna up and down.  “Why…?”

Wynonna shrugs, playing with the fringe on her leather jacket.

“Thought maybe she’d like some company.”

“You are volunteering to ride around on patrol with Nicole?”  Waverly hesitates,narrowing her eyes suspiciously.  “What are you really up to…?”

“Nothing,” Wynonna huffs.  “I’m just bored.  The Revs are quiet.  We have no new leads on Ball-Shart.  You’re off to find your Fortress of Solitude, and that leaves me with Opti-mug Prime over there.”

And Waverly may be looking for some peace and quiet, but the last thing Wynonna wants right now is to be alone with her thoughts.  There’s also that.

“You know what the Fortress of Solitude is?” Waverly asks and Wynonna immediately winces.  “Wow, you really have been spending too much time with Jeremy.”

Waverly giggles, and despite Wynonna’s mortification, she’s glad to see the small spark of joy in her sister’s eyes, no matter how fleeting.

“Right?” Wynonna gasps, feigning disgust.  “I’d much rather drive around with Haught Sauce and heckle the townsfolk than have to learn one more thing about a comic book character today.”  She spins Peacemaker around her finger ominously, surprising even herself when she doesn’t fuck it up this time like she usually does.

“I doubt Nicole will let you get away with much heckling.”  She watches Wynonna fumble with Peacemaker for a minute and then drops her hands to her hips.  “Although…” she starts, her head cocking slightly.  “Maybe a little ‘quality time’ would do you some good.  Might even be better than the get-along-shirt I ought to make you two idiots wear after all of the trouble you caused the other day.”

Wynonna opens her mouth to launch some snarky retort, but Waverly holds a hand up to stop her and Wynonna’s mouth snaps shut on its own before she even realizes it.

“I’ve already heard every excuse under the sun from both of you.  I’m not in the mood for reruns.”  Wynonna grumbles and shoves Peacemaker back in her holster, but refrains from arguing.  “Good.  I’ll text Nicole to pick you up out front.”

With that, she finishes gathering up her things and breezes past Wynonna, pausing in the doorway only long enough to tell her to have a good time and to behave.

Wynonna stands alone in the BBD office, silently wondering when she became the child to Waverly’s mom friend instincts, but then she hears Jeremy’s cheerful chattering coming down the hall and she decides to hightail it before she gets cornered by another one of his science-fiction lectures.

Grabbing a donut from the box Waverly had left on the table earlier, she stuffs the entire thing in her mouth in one go and rushes out of the station.

Still brushing the litany of crumbs away from her shirt and jacket while standing on the front sidewalk, she doesn’t notice the cruiser pull up to the curb.  When Nicole chirps the siren right behind her, Wynonna trips over her own feet, nearly doing a header right off the sidewalk and into the street.

She can hear Nicole’s laughter, even through the rolled-up windows of her patrol car.  She flips Nicole off as she stumbles closer to the car, so Nicole proceeds to chirp the siren at her again.

“Fuck you, Haught!” Wynonna curses through her remaining mouthful of donut as she wrenches open the passenger door, drawing a smug sort of satisfaction from the appalled look on Nicole’s face when even more crumbs come flying out of her mouth to litter the front seat.

“Gross, Earp!” Nicole scolds, immediately scooping the crumbs into her hand and depositing them in the little trash compartment she keeps in her center console.

Wynonna completely ignores her, propping her feet up on the dash.

“Let’s roll, Haughtie.”

//

“Maybe try talking to her,” Wynonna mocks under her breath when Waverly ends the call.

Wynonna slips her phone back in her pocket and glances over at Nicole.  

She hasn’t moved a muscle in at least five minutes, just staring blankly into the open trunk of her patrol car while the climbing harness still hangs from her hips. Wynonna may not always be the most observant person, but she’s not as oblivious as she likes to let everyone think she is.  She can see the way Nicole’s entire body is trembling, the carabiners on her rigging jangling softly with the constant movement.

“Maybe try talking to her,” Wynonna mumbles again, kicking a rock and watching it skid off in the opposite direction.  “What the fuck do I know about this kind of trauma,” she grumbles as she finally takes a step in Nicole’s direction.

A lot more than you might think.

Wynonna rolls her eyes at herself as she approaches Nicole.  

Okay, that’s a fair point.

She hesitates briefly when Nicole doesn’t seem to notice her, then reaches out to lay a cautious hand on her shoulder.  Nicole jumps and spins to face her, hand immediately falling to her sidearm, ready to draw if necessary.  Wynonna stumbles back a step, eyes wide.  She knew Nicole was a little zoned out, butshe wasn’t expecting that.

“Jesus, Wynonna,” Nicole croaks, trying to catch her breath.  “I could have shot you.”

“You could have tried,” Wynonna returns, patting Peacemaker at her hip with a wink, opting for an off-color attempt at humor as she so often does in these situations.  It doesn’t land, of course, and Nicole just continues to stare at her blankly.  “Okay, okay.  Geez.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

“Sorry,” Nicole says, her shoulders sagging a bit.  “I was just…  just…”  She looks back into the trunk of her cruiser, then down at the climbing gear still dangling from her waist, then back up at Wynonna with a frown.  “Fuck,” she sighs.  “I don’t even know what I was doing.  Sorry,” she mumbles again.

Wynonna wonders again how the person with the worst interpersonal skills ended up in this position.

Dolls.  Dolls was always good at calming me down when I was freaking the fuck out.  What would he do to help Nicole right now?

“Take a deep breath, Haughtstuff,” she tries, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder again.  “Let’s start by getting you out of that harness.”

Nicole looks down at it again, but makes no move to start unbuckling it, her hands still hanging uselessly at her sides.

“That’s what she said…  HA!”  Wynonna holds out her hand for a high five,proud of her joke, but still gets no reaction, even after high-fiving herself.

Fuck.  That was a terrible Dolls.  Focus, Earp.

“Snap out of it, Haught,” Wynonna says more firmly, reaching out to place her hands on both of Nicole’s shoulders this time, looking her square in the eye.  “You were a hero today.”  She immediately winces.  “Dammit…  You weren’t supposed to hear me say that part,” she mutters, but straightens her back and raises her chin anyway.  “A goddamn hero.”

Much better.  Very Dolls-like.

“Now I know I must be losing it,” Nicole finally says, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly as she shakes her head.

“Ha, ha.  Very funny,” Wynonna says dryly and punches Nicole in the arm, snorting when she grabs it and whines dramatically.  “Seriously, though,” she continues, gesturing back at Nicole’s gear.  “Finish taking that off so we can relax for a minute, Haughtpants.”

“Yeah…”  Nicole turns back toward the trunk, staring into it again for a few more seconds before finally starting to unbuckle the harness.  “Yeah, I should do that.”

Wynonna leans against the back bumper, watching Nicole step out of the harness and begin to pack away the rest of her climbing gear.  She nods to herself, and for the briefest of moments, she could swear she sees Dolls smiling at her from over Nicole’s shoulder.  But when she blinks, he’s gone again, and all that’s left is a strange whisper on the wind.

Proud of you, Earp.

//

“So this is what you do all day?  Just drive around town and jiggle a bunch ofdoor handles?”  

Nicole completely ignores Wynonna, not even taking her eyes off the road long enough to glance in her direction.

“Because I can think of some things that are a lot more fun to jiggle,” Wynonna says with a wicked smirk, leaning far enough over the console to nudge Nicole in the ribs.  “We could always go and visit Pussy Willows again, like we did that one time.  Maybe one of the girls could pull that rod out of your ass for you.”

Nicole’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, and Wynonna can see the muscles flexing in her jaw.  She immediately wishes she could kick herself.

“Fuck.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” Nicole cuts her off, voice tight.

The massacre.

The massacre that had brought the Cult of Bulshar to the forefront of their investigation.

The massacre that dredged up traumatic memories Nicole had locked away for twenty years.

The massacre that, according to Waverly, had conjured nightmares that haunted Nicole nearly every night since.

That massacre.

Wynonna doesn’t even think Pussy Willows has re-opened in the two and a half months since it happened.  But here she had gone and dragged it all up again, just for a cheap laugh.

God, I’m such a fuckhead sometimes.  Looks like Doc’s assholery is contagious.

Doc.  

There’s another subject she doesn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.  She’s batting a thousand today, it would seem.  Desperate for any change of subject she can come up with, Wynonna backtracks to the last relatively safe thing she said.

“So these door checks…” Wynonna mumbles, plucking nervously at a string that hangs from the frayed hole in the knee of her jeans.  “You have to do the same ones over and over again?”

“It’s important work, Wynonna,” Nicole says defensively.  

Wynonna recognizes the look on her face as the one she makes when she’s preparing herself to be made fun of.  A pang of guilt stabs at Wynonna’s gut when she realizes just how often she must badmouth Nicole and the way she does her job.  It’s not fair and she knows it, but sometimes she just can’t help herself.  It’s like a compulsion.  

“I know,” Wynonna agrees, still trying to smooth things over.

“You do?”  Nicole obviously wasn’t expecting that kind of response.  Wynonna glances up to find Nicole looking at her while they’re stopped at a stop sign, eyebrow raised as though she’s expecting there to be more to it than that.

“I mean…  I think I know,” Wynonna falters.  She frowns as she continues to pick at the string on her jeans.  “Okay, actually I don’t know,” she finally admits.  Nicole’s face falls, resigning herself to whatever jab is about to come next.  “Butyou could explain it to me,” Wynonna continues.  “Or whatever,” she adds at the end with a wave of her hand, still trying to play it cool like she always does.

Nicole is silent for a long moment, and Wynonna considers just climbing out of the car while it’s not moving and starting the long walk back to the station by herself.  Surely she can’t fuck that up as much as she’s fucking this up right now.

“You’re really asking?” Nicole finally ventures, and the skepticism is etched deeply on her face, but Wynonna thinks she catches a glimpse of something else in her eyes.

“Nevermind,” Wynonna sighs, deflating a little.  She’s not getting anything right today.  “You don’t have t–”

“No, it’s okay.”  Nicole reaches into the center console and withdraws a metalclipboard.  “I don’t mind,” she says, handing it over to Wynonna before pulling away from the stop sign and turning at the intersection.

Excitement.  That’s what Wynonna had seen rippling beneath Nicole’s skepticism.  And maybe even a little hope.

God, she really does love this job.

“What’s this?” Wynonna asks, looking over the pages of checklists on the clipboard.

“That’s our Daily Patrol Log,” Nicole explains as she continues driving to the next location on the list.  “I sat down with several of the local business owners last year when Nedley first started giving me more leeway and responsibilities.  We worked out a schedule of rotating patrols for their establishments to help with the new visibility directive I was writing, and also to encourage better preventativepolicing.”

“So you really do just…  drive around and jiggle their door handles every day?” Wynonna asks after staring at Nicole for a long moment with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s more than that, Wynonna.”  Nicole rolls her eyes, but continues explaining, her tone much gentler now.  “Increasing our visibility in these areas helps make both the owners and the customers feel safer.  We do a rotating schedule during the day shifts, which mostly just consists of driving by, or checking the locks on the back doors and storage areas – jiggling the handles, as you put it – so that we don’t interrupt their normal business.  People get used to seeing us around, even in the background, and that makes it less likely for a bunch of shitheads to show up and cause trouble.”

She glances over to see if Wynonna is actually paying attention or if she’s already being ignored.  To her surprise, Wynonna is still watching her intently.  

“And for the night shift, we check every business on every shift – so long as time allows; sometimes we’re too busy with active calls and have to just do spot checks when we can – but we still try to do them in different orders so that no one can pinpoint exactly when we’ll be there.”  They pull into the back parking lot of the Crown Surplus, and Nicole shifts in her seat to face Wynonna.  “The night checks are a little more involved.  We get out and walk the perimeter.  Check all of the doors and windows.  Make sure the alarms are engaged.  Clear out any jackholes that are drinking on the premises.  Things like that.”

“And this…”  Wynonna gestures first at the clipboard in her hand, and then out the window at the building they’re parked behind.  “It actually works?”

“Some.  It’s just…”  She tilts her head to the side and Wynonna watches as she searches for the right words.  “I mean, Purgatory is a dangerous place, evenwhen these people want to bury their heads in the sand about what’s going on.  And if I…  If I can get them to trust us, even just a little bit more than they used to, then at least they’re more likely to come to us – to me – if some weird shit starts happening.  You know?  Like if they have someone that they think might actually believe them instead of just telling them they’re crazy…”

Nicole sighs and turns to stare out the window, the sudden silence in the car covering them like a thick blanket until it’s almost smothering.

“I don’t know,” she finally says, still looking out the window.  “Maybe it’s stupid.  Just wishful thinking on my part.”

“It’s not,” Wynonna says immediately, reaching out to lay a hand on Nicole’s forearm.  She turns back to look at Wynonna, clearly surprised by the gesture.  “It’s not stupid.”

“It’s not?”  Nicole doesn’t sound convinced.

“No.  It’s important,” Wynonna says quietly, squeezing Nicole’s arm gently.  “What you’re doing for these people.  Whether they recognize it or not.”

It’s in that moment that Wynonna realizes she’s talking about herself, too, and clears her throat uncomfortably as she jerks her hand back away from Nicole’s arm.

“You came up with all of this on your own?” she asks, settling back into her seat and plucking at the string on her jeans again.  She smirks to herself when she sees Nicole’s face immediately begin to flush.

Some things never change.

“Yeah, I uh…” Nicole mumbles, rubbing at the back of her neck.  “I guess I did.  I ran it all by Nedley after I’d written it up, before I met with the business owners. But, umm…”  She gives a dismissive half-shrug.  “I guess I just wanted to help any way I could.”

Wynonna doesn’t say anything, but she does give a slight nod that causes Nicole to duck her head shyly.  They sit in an awkward silence for a long moment before Wynonna hands the clipboard back to Nicole.

“So I guess we gotta g–”

“Haught,” Ruthie’s voice interrupts as the radio crackles to life between them.  “Got Ranger Jett on the line for you.  Sounds urgent.”

“10-4, Ruthie,” Nicole answers after grabbing the console mic.  “Go ahead and patch him through.”

“10-4”

There’s a short beep followed by a series of clicks before a new voice comes through, slightly staticky from the relayed connection.

“Hello?  Sheriff Haught?”

“Hey, Robin.  Not officially the Sheriff yet,” Nicole says with a slight grin, “but what’s up?”

“It’s a little girl, Sheriff,” he continues, ignoring Nicole’s playful comment.  “She’smissing.”

//

“I can’t, Wynonna.  I’m still on shift.”

“Technically, your shift ended two hours ago.”  Nicole eyes her carefully, and Wynonna shrugs.  “Just sayin’.”  She gives the silver flask a jiggle where she’s still holding it out between them.

She had done her best to channel Dolls earlier when she’d needed to snap Nicole out of her stupor.  But recognizing the haunted look in her eyes now, Wynonna decides it’s time for some good old-fashioned Earp tactics.

Whiskey.

It’s never let her down before.

Okay, maybe it has…  but who’s counting?  That’s not important at the moment.  What’s important is that Nicole is warring with a darkness right now, and sometimes you just need a little fire in your belly to hold it at bay for a little whilelonger.

Or at least until Waverly can get here and fix things the right way.

She watches the gears turn in Nicole’s head, like she’s weighing a heavy decision, and is more than a little surprised when Nicole reaches out to take the flask from her.  She raises an eyebrow, but Nicole levels a look at her that practically dares her to say something about it when she raises the flask to her lips and downs several large gulps without so much as flinching.

“Well, alright then.”  Wynonna takes the flask when Nicole hands it back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  It’s more than half empty.  Wynonna gives Nicole an impressed look, raising the flask in a mock toast.  “Cheers, Haughtshot,” she says before downing the rest of it.

No way she’s gonna let an Earp be outdone when it comes to drinking.  Especially not by Five-O.  Though, to be completely fair, Wynonna has always been impressed with Nicole’s constitution.  It takes a lot to get her drunk, and even then, she still continues to hold her own.  She’s proven that over and over again.

Drinking whiskey that night at the station a year and a half ago, back when times were simpler.  Nicole had matched her swig for swig, but the minute they’d gotten sucked into an actual case down in the morgue, she’d sobered up instantly.  That’s not easy to do, and Wynonna knows it.

Just a handful of months later, covering for Wynonna while staking out Jonas by drinking for both of them just to keep the baby safe.  She’d definitely gotten drunker that time around, but no so much so that she couldn’t still shoot out a fuse box from across the room with a .380 Walther PPK she’d pulled out of her sock, and that’s saying something, given their long history of questionable accuracy.

And just a couple of days ago in that Revenant bar.  Nicole had been drunk off her ass by the end of that disaster, but even though she would never admit it out loud, Wynonna knows that Nicole is the one that technically won that drinking contest fair and square.  The Revenant had lost when he’d hurled everything back up.  And Wynonna…  Well, Wynonna had been cheating the entire time.  And that leaves Nicole.  Who matched Wynonna and the Rev drink for drink, kept all of it down, and then, even though she was unsteady on her feet, she still managed to help Wynonna kick some ass in the woods.

If there’s one thing Wynonna can respect, it’s the ability to hold your liquor.  And Nicole keeps proving over and over that she can match pace with an Earp.  So that’s pretty solid in Wynonna’s book.

She looks back at Nicole, whose cheeks are now flushed from the healthy dose of whiskey.  Tucking the empty flask back into the inside pocket of her leather jacket, she climbs up onto the trunk of Nicole’s cruiser.  Nicole starts to balk, but Wynonna ignores her, patting the space beside her.

“C’mon, Haught.  We got a little time before your unicorn gets here.  Take a load off.”

“Waverly’s coming?”  That’s the first sign of hope she’s seen in Nicole since they originally got the call from Robin.

“She’s already on her way.”

Nicole lets out a weary sigh, but climbs up next to Wynonna without protest, leaning back on her hands as her feet find purchase on the bumper.  She looks up at the moon, already visible in the dimming twilight, and Wynonna can see the deep worry lines etched across her brow and at her mouth.  For a fleeting moment, she looks far older than her twenty-seven years would suggest.

Wynonna knows a little bit about that.  She’s twenty-eight now, but sometimes she feels like she’s already been dragged through a hundred lifetimes full of griefand guilt and loss.

“Hey, it’s okay to relax for a minute.”  She reaches over and pats Nicole’s knee.  “Today was a win, Nicole.”  

She’s quiet for a long moment, before whispering something so softly that Wynonna can barely make it out over the rustling leaves in the nearby trees.

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell in this town.”

Ain’t that the goddamn truth.

//

“We’ve been out here for hours, Nicole.  Maybe we sho–”

“We’re not giving up, Wynonna!”

Nicole stomps off through the trees, and Wynonna lets her go.  

It’s suspicious that another kid has already gone missing in the woods again, especially so soon after what they went through with the missing kids on Christmas just barely a week ago.  She and Charlie had tracked them down andwiped out one of Bulshar’s evil beekeeper hives, rescuing Robin and severalothers in the process.  Surely he hasn’t already rebuilt and started over again…

No, something about this one feels different, she thinks as she watches Nicole search for tracks in the underbrush up ahead, weighed down by far more than just the pack full of gear slung over her shoulders.  Her phone buzzes in her pocket before she has time to think any more about that.

Angelpants:  Are you still with Nicole?  She’s not answering her phone.

Bacon Donut:  we’re on a call

Angelpants:  Everything okay?

Bacon Donut:  little girl missing in the woods

Angelpants:  Bulshar???

Bacon Donut:  nah peacemaker isn’t giving me any tingly feelings in my pants

Angelpants:  WYNONNA

Bacon Donut:  i think she just got lost

Bacon Donut:  mom lost track of her by the playground whilechasing after toddler

Angelpants:  Is Nicole okay?

Bacon Donut:  she’s in full sheriff mode right now

Angelpants:  You guys need anything?

Bacon Donut:  the whole cavalry is out here

Bacon Donut:  i think we’re good

Bacon Donut:  you just work on that research babygirl

Angelpants:  Okay…  But keep me posted?

Bacon Donut:  10-4

Angelpants:  You really have been spending a lot of time with Nicole lately.  lol

Bacon Donut:  shut it shortstack

Angelpants:  Be careful, okay?

Bacon Donut:  you got it boss

Wynonna slides her phone back in her pocket and does her best to catch up to Nicole again.  Nicole continues to ignore her, and Wynonna approaches cautiously.

“Hey…”  She hesitates when Nicole freezes in place, but doesn’t turn around.  “Charlie has the entire fire department out here, and Robin called in all of the other Park Rangers.  I wasn’t suggesting that everyone give up, Haught.  I was just wondering if we shouldn’t leave it to the Search & Rescue boys, since that’s what they do.”

“I’m Search & Rescue, Wynonna!” Nicole snaps as she finally spins to face Wynonna.  She points at one of the patches on the pack she’s carrying.  “I got certified in it at the Academy, because I never wanted another little girl to be stuck in the woods by herself with no one to come looking for her.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wynonna suddenly understands everything.

That explains a lot.

She opens her mouth to say something – anything – but it seems her brain has forgotten how to string two words together right now.

“It’s going to be dark soon, Wynonna,” Nicole continues, much quieter this time.  Her eyes are hollow and she’s white as a ghost.  Even paler than usual.  “It’s going to be dark, and she’ll be out here all alone, cold and scared, and…  and…” Nicole swallows hard around the lump that Wynonna can hear is stuck inher throat.  “What if it had been Waverly?” she pleads, desperate for Wynonna to stay out here with her.

“Okay,” Wynonna says, finally finding her words again.  She reaches out and catches the trembling hand that Nicole’s been waving around.  “Okay, Nicole.  We’ll keep looking for her.”

They hear the muffled calls of the other groups echoing through the forest as they continue their search.  Nicole was right: the sun is beginning to set, and the beautiful colors painted across the sky bring a sharper chill in the air with them.  They’re running out of time.

Wynonna suddenly feels an odd weightless sensation, and then her stomach is in her throat as she starts to tumble forward.  Before she connects with anything, though, she’s being yanked backward by her collar, until she’s lying on her back,staring up at the trees.

One red-headed tree in particular.

“You’ve gotta watch where you’re going, Earp,” Nicole says sternly, hands on her hips as she looks down at Wynonna.  “I don’t have time to be saving your ass,too.”

“Thanks, Haught,” Wynonna manages to croak.  “I didn’t even se–”

“Shhhhh…” Nicole whispers harshly.  “Did you hear that?”

Wynonna frowns, straining her ears in the eerie silence of the forest around them.  Just as she’s about to accuse Nicole of losing her mind, she hears it, too.  It’s faint, almost as though they’d imagined it, but it’s there.

“Hello…?  Is somebody there?”

Nicole trembles slightly as she pulls Wynonna up from the ground.

“This is the Sheriff’s Department!” she yells, loudly enough to make Wynonna wince.  “Call out if you can hear me!”

They both wait, staring at each other with wide eyes.

“HELP!  WE’RE DOWN HERE!  HELP, PLEASE!”

“We?” they mouth in unison, still frozen in place for half a second longer.

“Don’t move!  We’re on our way!” Nicole finally yells back as she turns and sprints in the direction of the voice, along the edge of the ridge that Wynonna had nearly tumbled over.  

Wynonna does her best to keep up with Nicole in the waning light, struggling to stay upright in the wake of the sure-footed Sheriff.  It’s painfully obvious that Nicole is far more comfortable in this terrain than Wynonna will ever be.

They finally begin to slow their approach when they start to hear barking mixed in with the small voice.  That must be the ‘we’ the little girl was referring to.

“We’re almost there, Ashley!” Nicole calls out again as she begins looking around the new area.  “Can you tell me where you are?”

“I fell,” the little girl cries in response.  “I can’t move my leg!”  Her answer is accompanied by another round of barks and frantic whines.  “And Hugo’sdown here, too,” she adds.

Nicole drops to her belly in the dirt and the leaves and creeps closer to the stony ledge.  Wynonna crouches and carefully peers over Nicole’s shoulder to find asheer rock face, wrought with stray branches and roots and moss-covered rockssticking out at odd angles.  Wynonna knows from experience now just how easy it would be to miss a step if you weren’t looking and suddenly find yourself twenty feet below with nowhere to go.

There, in a muddy patch of snow and leaves tucked away in the shadows below the ledge, they can see a puffy pink coat with a matching set of snow boots – one leg sticking out at an odd angle – and a large dog wrapped around a shivering body.

“Hi, Ashley.  I’m Officer Nicole.”

“Hi, Nicole,” Ashley answers weakly.

“Don’t move,” Nicole says again, gentler this time.  “I’m coming down to get you, okay?”

“Okay,” the little girl sniffles.  “Hurry.  I’m sca–  I mean, I think Hugo is scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Hugo,” Nicole says, nodding seriously at the dog.  “Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Hugo barks once – a muted sort of woof – and Ashley clutches a little tighter at his fur.

“He says he’ll try to be brave.”

“That’s very good, Ashley.”  Nicole pushes up onto her hands and knees.  “You and Hugo just need to be brave a little longer while I get my rope ready, and then I’ll be down to get you, okay?”

“Okay…”

“You can talk to my friend Wynonna here while I’m working.”  Nicole nudges Wynonna a little closer to the edge, despite the what the fuck look she levels in Nicole’s direction.  “Just talk to her, Wynonna,” Nicole says so that only Wynonna can hear her.  “So she knows we’re still here and she’s not alone anymore.”

“Uh…  hi,” Wynonna says awkwardly, sticking her head over the ledge and waving.  She turns to see Nicole unpacking her gear, ratcheting one end of her rope to a nearby tree that looks sturdy enough to serve as an anchor.  “I’m Wynonna…”

“Duh,” Ashley says, giggling a little in spite of herself.  “Officer Nicole already said that.”

“Officer Nicole says a lot of things,” Wynonna grumbles loudly, sticking her tongue out dramatically at Nicole behind her back.  Ashley giggles again, and Hugo thumps his tail against the leaves.  “My little sister would love that pink coat of yours,” Wynonna adds after a moment, unsure of what else to say.

“You have a little sister?”

“Uh huh.  Her name is Waverly.”

“Walervy?”

“Eh… Close enough, kid,” Wynonna snorts.  “She loves pink stuff and rainbows and unicorns.”

“I have a unicorn!”  There’s less sniffling in Ashley’s voice now, replaced by excitement instead.

“So does my sister!” Wynonna laughs, especially when hearing Nicole groan behind her.

“His name is Sparkle!”

“His name…  is Sparkle…”  Wynonna can barely contain herself.  “That’s–”

“Wynonna,” Nicole hisses quietly.  “Be nice.”

“–a great name!” Wynonna finishes.

“What did your sister name her unicorn?” Ashley calls up again after a moment.

“Officer Nicole,” Wynonna giggles, and then yelps when Nicole kicks her right in the ass with her muddy boot.

“What?” Ashley asks, confused.

“Ummm...  I said Tootsie Roll!” Wynonna calls back a little louder this time, still trying to stifle a giggle.

“Like the candy?”

“Yep,” Wynonna answers, popping the p loudly.  “Just like that.”

“That’s kinda weird…” Ashley says, thinking about it for a moment.  “But I like it!”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought, too,” Wynonna says, glancing back over her shoulder and catching the hint of a smile on Nicole’s face, just barely hidden behind the curtain of her hair.

“Okay, Ashley,” Nicole says, stepping back up to the ledge.  “I’m coming down to get you now.  All I need you to do is just stay still, okay?  Don’t try to move until Iget there.”

“Okay,” Ashley answers, sounding nervous again.

“You need to hang on to this for me,” Nicole tells Wynonna, handing her a portion of the rope after making sure it’s secured through her climbing harness.  “Getting down there shouldn’t be too difficult, but I’ll need your help when I’m climbing back up with her.”

“What?” Wynonna balks, trying to back away.  “I don’t know anything about this shit.  What if I fuck it up?”  She can’t handle this kind of responsibility right now.

“Wynonna, focus,” Nicole says sharply, grabbing her by the shoulder.  “Look.”  She points over to the tree.  “I’m rigged up to a pulley system.  All I need you to do is keep this part tight.  When I create slack from climbing, just keep pulling it tight, okay?  It will keep me from falling backward if I lose my footing with her inmy arms.”

Wynonna doesn’t understand how any of this climbing shit works, but she thinks she can manage at least that much.

“Okay,” she finally says, still a little unsure.  “Hey, wait…” she adds when Nicole starts to back up toward the ledge.  “Do you have our coordinates or whatever?  I was just gonna shoot of a quick text to Charlie with our location so he can send some of the EMS boys this way.”

Nicole pulls out her phone and frowns at the missed calls and texts from Waverly.

“It’s okay,” Wynonna says quickly when she sees Nicole’s face.  “I texted her a while ago to let her know we were on a call.”

“Thanks…” Nicole says softly.  “I didn’t mean to ignore her.  I just…”

“Had a lot on your mind?”

“Yeah,” Nicole answers sheepishly, and then clears her throat a couple of times.  “Here’s the coordinates,” she says, handing Wynonna her phone with the GPS app open.

“Okay, got it,” Wynonna says after typing a few things into a text message.  “Now go and save the day, Sheriff,” she says, warmly and with no hint of sarcasm, as she hands Nicole’s phone back to her.

Nicole rappels down the rock face with ease, and Wynonna watches as she pulls out the emergency med kit from her pack and places a cervical collar around Ashley’s neck to stabilize her c-spine.  It’s not ideal to be moving someone like this without a full backboard, but sometimes the circumstances of these search and rescue situations don’t always provide the best conditions.  At least she’d been sitting up the entire time she’d been talking to them.  That has to count for something.  Hopefully.

After placing a makeshift splint on Ashley’s leg, Nicole begins to prepare her for transport.  She carefully works another harness up over Ashley’s legs and hips, and then secures it to her own with another short section of rope and somecarabiners.  Then she slips Ashley’s hands through a set of loops that almost look like handcuffs made of rope, explaining that they will help her hold on to Nicole while she’s climbing back up.

Ducking her head to put it through Ashley’s arms so they’re around her neck, Nicole scoops her up and holds her close as she moves back to the rocks and slowly begins her ascent.  Wynonna is diligent in keeping the slack out of the rope, digging her heels into the soft earth to help her hold her ground.  It’s much slower going, and they’re nearly out of light now, but soon enough, Nicole’s head pops up over the ledge and Wynonna kneels down to take Ashley from her and get her back on solid ground.

“Can you tell us what happened, Ashley?”  Nicole asks as she takes off her jacket and drapes it around Ashley’s shoulders.  Wynonna is immediately reminded of the photo she’d recently seen of a young Nicole wearing Nedley’s coat on the morning he’d found her downstream from the massacre.  

“We were playing in the park with Mama and Matthew,” Ashley starts, sniffling again.  “Matthew kept tryin’a run away, and Mama had to chase after him.  But then Hugo saw a squirrel and tried to catch it and we just kept runnin’ and then we were in the woods and there were so many trees and we got lost and then I fell and… and…”  Anything else she wanted to say gets lost in the heaving sob that wracks her entire body.

“Shhh…  It’s okay,” Nicole soothes, wrapping her arms around the little girl.  She tucks her face securely into Nicole’s shoulder, and Nicole strokes her hair gently. “It’s okay.  You’re safe now.  You’re safe.”

“What about Hugo,” Ashley eventually hiccups, once she’s caught her breath again.  “You can’t just leave him down there!”

Wynonna and Nicole peer over the ledge, watching Hugo prance and pace along the edge of the rock face, whining and searching for his human.

“Okay,” Nicole says after a brief moment of deliberation.  “You stay here with Wynonna, and I’ll go and get Hugo.”

“How in the fu–  …the f–”  Wynonna’s eyes slide over toward Ashley.  “The eff are you gonna do that?”

“Ummm…”  Nicole thinks for a moment, looking at everything that’s spread out in front of her.  “I think I have an idea.”  She dumps everything out of her pack, until it’s completely empty, and holds it up.  She eyes it for a minute, and then shrugs at Wynonna.  “Hopefully this will work…”

“Oh, my god,” Wynonna groans, resting her head in her hand.  She knows exactly what Nicole is going to do.

Nicole slings the empty pack back over her shoulders and starts toward the ledge again, but pauses when Ashley reaches out and takes her face in her little hands.

“Officer Nicole,” she says very seriously.  “You have to be very careful with him.  Mama says he’s an old man now.”

“I’ll be very careful with him,” Nicole answers, her voice cracking a little.  “I promise.”

Wynonna definitely doesn’t have a lump in her throat.  Nope.  Absolutely not.

They begin the process all over again, and Nicole sits with Hugo for a few minutes at the bottom so that he’ll calm down and hopefully trust her enough for what needs to happen next.  After a bit of coaxing and a couple of false starts, she finally manages to get the aging German shepherd into her giant backpack, with just his head sticking out so that he can watch over her shoulder.  He doesn’t seem particularly pleased about this development, but he lets her secure the zipper and lock it in place so he can’t fall out on the way back up.  It will have to do.

She hoists the pack back up onto her shoulders and starts climbing the wall again, Wynonna dutifully working her end of the rope.  It doesn’t take quite as long as it did when Nicole was bringing Ashley up since she has the use of both arms, but Wynonna can tell she’s feeling pretty exhausted by the time she reaches the top.

Thankfully, Charlie and the boys have arrived by then, already tending to Ashley while Nicole frees Hugo from his port-a-puppy status.  He barks a few times and then runs in an impressive amount of circles before finally jumping up on the back of the ATV and settling in next to Ashley, refusing to leave her side again.

They all set out back toward the trailhead where Ashley’s family is waiting for them, leaving Wynonna and Nicole standing alone in the silence of the dusk-covered woods.

“That was some Haught shit back there, Officer Nicole,” Wynonna says after a few minutes.  She pats Nicole on the back when she gets no response.

Nicole says nothing, merely swaying on her feet until she has to reach out and lean against one of the nearby trees for support.  

Then she promptly doubles over and vomits all over her boots.

“Okay, even I didn’t see that coming…” Wynonna says, unsure of how to react.

Nicole still doesn’t say anything, heaving three more times before she’s apparently emptied her entire stomach out into the muddy snow.  When she finally stands back up, Wynonna takes her by the elbow and starts leading her back the way they came.

“Alright, Red.  Let’s get you back to the land of the living.”

//

“Maybe try talking to her.”

Waverly’s voice is still bouncing around in Wynonna’s head as she watches Nicole stare out into the darkness, shivering slightly despite having her jacket back after Charlie had replaced it with a proper blanket.  She reaches out and places a hand on Nicole’s knee.

“I shouldn’t have called you ‘Deputy Dipshit’ the other day.”  Nicole immediately stiffens beside Wynonna.  That definitely touched a nerve.  She curses herself and starts to change the subject, but she sees Waverly glaring at her with her arms crossed, telling her to talk to her about it, so instead, she pushes on.  “I was only fucking with you,” she hastens to justify, “but I still shouldn’t have gonethere.  It was a shitty thing to say, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Maybe I did,” Nicole sighs, visibly deflating.  “Seems like everyone has that opinion these days.”

“I don’t,” Wynonna says immediately.  “Nedley doesn’t.”

“Right,” Nicole scoffs.  “You drag my ass about my job every chance you get.  And Bunny Loblaw…”  Nicole swallows had and looks away again.

“Bunny Nut Cheerios can choke on her pearls, for all I care,” Wynonna seethes.  “And me…” Wynonna starts, a little more sheepishly.  “Well, since when do you listen to a word I say, anyway?”

Nicole just raises an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, look.  You know I don’t have the best track record with cops.  Even Nedley, from before I came back.  But you’re…”  Wynonna waves her hand around awkwardly.  “…Different.”

“Different,” Nicole repeats in a deadpan voice.

“Yes.  Different, okay?”  Wynonna kicks her foot on the bumper of the cruiser while she tries to figure out what to say next.  “Like.  Even before you kneweverything, you still tried to look out for me and my sister.  And then you took a bullet for her.   And you believe me when I tell you something’s important, even if I can’t always explain it right then.  And…  and you didn’t just automatically assume I was crazy and needed to be locked up again.”  

That last part comes out much quieter than the rest of it.  Nicole turns to fully face Wynonna and opens her mouth to respond, but Wynonna holds up a hand to stop her.

“I’m not very good at this shit, but I’m trying to say something important here.  Let me get it out.”  Nicole just nods silently, and Wynonna continues.  “And then my sister fell for you, and that scared me.  Because I thought you were just going to take her away from me.  But you didn’t, and you stayed, and she stayed, and…  You tell me you love her, and then you told me you love me, too, and…  and…”  Wynonna sighs and buries her head in her hands.  “Look, I’m just sayin’,” she says, popping her head back up again.  “I know we made up and called a truce the other night back at the station, but I still shouldn’t have said that.  You didn’t deserve it, okay?”

“Okay…”  

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Nicole is apparently willing to just let it go for now.  Thankfully.

“What if I can’t do this, Wynonna?” Nicole asks instead after a few moments of silence.  “What if I’m not cut out to be the Sheriff?”

“No way,” Wynonna snorts.  “That’s not possible.”  Nicole shrugs a little helplessly at her.  “Listen, Haughtdog.  Nedley has been talking about you non-stop since you started working for him a year and a half ago.  That man believes in you more than he believes in Willie Nelson.  And I told him a month ago – before any of this other shit started happening – that you were ready to take his place whenever he was ready to let you.  That you had the kind of fight in you that this town needs right now.”

“You…  you did?”  Nicole seems genuinely surprised by this.

“I did,” Wynonna nods.  “And I know for a fact that you heard every word I said to ol’ Bun Bun after we finished saving her ass.  Naughty Haughty and your eavesdropping.”  Wynonna gives an approving waggle of her eyebrows and Nicole shoves her playfully in the shoulder.  “But the truth is, Nicole…  You’re the best goddamn cop this town has ever seen.  Nedley is a good man, and he’s done the best he can with trying to balance the protection and the cover-up for the past thirty years.  But you’re…  Well, like I said.  You’re different.  You’ve got your eyes wide open going into this, and you’re everything this godforsaken town needs right now.”

Nicole stares down at her hands, suddenly very interested in the stitching on her gloves.

“I mean, look at how much of a difference you’ve already made just with something as simple as your handle-jiggling thingy.  The people trust you.  They’re glad to see you coming, and that’s important in a town like this.”

“Maybe so…”  Nicole glances back up at Wynonna.  “Thanks, Earp.”

“For what?” Wynonna asks pointedly.  “If you ever tell a living soul I said any ofthat, I’ll deny it to my grave.”

Nicole snorts and shakes her head.

“Fair enough.”

“Now, uh…”  Wynonna wipes the palms of her hands nervously on her jeans.  Her head is screaming at her to just leave it at that, counting this conversation as a win.  But her heart remembers the way Nicole had looked in the woods, and how haunted she’d been when they’d gotten back to the parking lot of theTrailhead.  She feels Waverly coaxing her to continue.  “Do you, uh…  want to talk about what’s really bothering you?”

Nicole instantly shrinks back into herself, looking back up at the darkened sky.  Wynonna could kick herself for being such a bull in the china closet, but she’s really trying here.  That’s got to count for something.

“How much do you remember from that night?” she asks tentatively.

“Not a lot,” Nicole mumbles.  “Just flashes.  That asshole in black leather.  Screams.  Blood.  Floating in the canoe.  Freezing so badly I thought I was turning to ice.”

“That… sounds like a lot to me,” Wynonna says.  “And the little girl today?”

“I knew how scared she would be.  Alone.  In the dark.  In these woods…”  A tear trickles down Nicole’s cheek.  “It put me right back there again.”  She wipes discreetly at her face, and Wynonna chooses not to say anything about it.

“Waverly said you’ve been having nightmares about it?”

“She told you about that?”  Nicole tries to sound mad, but Wynonna recognizes the truth in her voice: embarrassment and shame.

“She tells me a lot of things,” Wynonna says gently.  “Do you… want to talk about them?”

“What would you know about it?” Nicole huffs angrily, instantly starting to throw up a wall between them.  Wynonna isn’t having any of it.  Not this time.

“About what, Nicole?” She cuts in firmly.  “About something so traumatic from your childhood that it still haunts you twenty years later?  About darkness and death that twists you up so badly you end up in the loony bin for it?  About closing your eyes and seeing every person that’s ever died because you failed them etched across your eyelids until you can’t tell what’s real in the moment and what’s only a memory in a dream?”

Nicole stares at Wynonna, wide-eyed and mouth gaping open.  Wynonna just sits patiently, waiting for Nicole to process everything she just said.

It takes a minute.

“S-sorry…” Nicole eventually stutters.  “I wasn’t thinking.  I didn’t…  I…  S-sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize, Nicole.”  Wynonna reaches out and takes one of Nicole’s hands.  “I was just trying to point out that maybe I get it a little more than you might think.  If you ever…  you know…”  She lets go of Nicole’s hand and waves it awkwardly in the air.  “…Needed someone.  To talk to, I mean.”

“Waverly’s so good.  She’s always there for me through the nightmares.”  Nicole sighs, looking back down at her hands.  “But sometimes I feel like I’mdrowning in it.  Like I’m going to drown both of us, and I can’t even see what it is that’s dragging me under.”  She wipes at her face again, more openly this time.

“Yeah, I get that,” Wynonna admits.  “Why do you think I left for so long?”

“I’m not going to leave her, Wynonna!” Nicole says sharply, sitting up straight again with her brow furrowed.

“I know,” Wynonna defends, throwing her hands up between them.  “I know.  That’s not what I meant.  It’s…  I just…  You’re a lot stronger than me, Haught.  I was too weak.  I had to leave because I couldn’t handle it.  I couldn’t handle it myself, and I sure as fuck couldn’t hand dragging Waverly down with me.”

“Am I?” Nicole asks quietly.

“Are you what?”  Wynonna frowns, confused.

“Dragging her down?  Would she be better off without my baggage?”  Wynonna doesn’t think she’s ever seen Nicole look so broken before.

“No,” she says firmly.  “God, no.  You’re the one that’s given that girl wings,Nicole.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Nicole sniffles, smiling slightly despite herself.  “Seems like this Julian dude probably had more to do with that than me.”

Wynonna can’t help but snort.

“Can’t believe Mama bagged herself a fucking angel.”  She barks out a laugh, but then her tone turns darker.  “You deserve your angel far more than she ever did.”

This time it’s Nicole that reaches out and takes Wynonna’s hand.

“Hey.”  She squeezes gently until Wynonna meets her eye.  “We’ll figure this out together, okay?  All of us.”

Wynonna searches Nicole’s eyes and finds nothing but genuine compassion there.  She wants to say something – feels like she should – but she can’t seem to find the right words, so she just nods her acknowledgement.  

Then, as if someone else is controlling her body, she reaches out and wraps her arms around Nicole, pulling her in close.  Nicole feels stiff at first, like she’s notsure what’s happening, but then she relaxes into the embrace, reaching aroundto close her own arms around Wynonna’s shoulders.

They stay like that for several long moments, losing track of the number of heartbeats, before Wynonna pulls back again, looking a little flustered with herself.

“What, uh…  What was that for?” Nicole asks through a lopsided smile.

Wynonna shrugs as casually as she can manage.

“You just looked like you really needed a hug.”

Just then, a pair of headlights comes sweeping into the parking lot, eventually coming to rest on the trunk of Nicole’s squad car, lighting both of them up in the sudden brightness.  The engine cuts out and they’re left with visions of a red jeep swimming behind the sunspots now floating in their eyes.

“Speak of the devil…” Wynonna says, wiping the salty tracks from her own face now.  “Or angel, I suppose,” she adds, nudging Nicole in her ribs with her elbow.  

They both share a laugh as they hop down from the trunk, wiping their hands on their pants and feeling all of the joints in their body crack as they stretch out their weary limbs.  Waverly approaches them slowly, eyebrow raised.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, her tone suspicious.

“Nope,” Wynonna hurries to say.  “Not a thing, Babygirl.  We’ve just been waiting on you.”

Waverly eyes Nicole, who just nods along innocently.  

“Riiiight…”

Before she can say anymore, Nicole has closed the distance between them, sweeping Waverly into her arms.  She kisses her deeply, far more than just a quick peck on the lips, before finally pulling back to nuzzle their noses together and eventually letting her forehead rest against Waverly’s.

Wynonna would normally clear her throat or make gagging noises or harass them in some other way, but instead, this time she quietly watches.  Really watches.

Watches the way Nicole seems to draw strength from the simple fact that Waverly is near.  Watches the way Waverly clutches at Nicole’s jacket, keeping her close and present in the moment and steady.  Watches them whisper softly to each other and the way Nicole’s body instinctively relaxes at Waverly’s touch.  Watches the way they both seem to be trying to protect each other at the same time.

She’d meant it before when she admitted to Nicole that she was scared when Waverly fell in love with her.  Scared that Nicole would take her away.  That Waverly would leave her.  But as she watches them now, she doesn’t feel scared anymore.  They were made for each other.  They deserve each other.  And there’s no way she can be jealous of that.  She couldn’t ask for anyone betterto be taking care of her baby sister, and for all of the blustery sarcasm shethrows Nicole’s way, she’s also glad that she has someone like Waverly to takecare of her, too.

There’s been a lot of reevaluating lately.  About what family truly means.  Is it just about blood?  Are they destined to be bound to those who are related to them simply because they share some common DNA?  All Wynonna’s blood brings is a curse of failure and leaving and death.  Generations of Earps had fallen to forces outside their control.  Daddy and Willa had betrayed their family.  Mama had bailed…  twice.  Is that really what Wynonna wants her family to be?

And what about the family you choose for yourself?  She’s not doing much better in that department, either.  She had to kill Shorty with her own two hands.  Dollsleft her to all of this alone, even though it wasn’t the same way Mama had left.  And Doc…  Doc had chosen to betray her, to become the very thing they hunted, all because he couldn’t deal with a little manpain.  

She has Alice, and will always love her.  But god knows when the next time she’ll get to see her will be.  If she ever gets to see her again at all.  Just another piece of family that’s been ripped away from her.

Maybe some things just aren’t in the cards for the heir to a curse that she never asked for.

But then she looks over at Waverly and Nicole again.  Remembers Waverly telling her that she loves her.  Remembers Nicole telling her that she kind of loves her, too.  Remembers Nicole telling her ‘I got you, Earp,’ and actually meaning it.  Remembers Waverly telling her ‘I’m here for you, now and forever,’ and staying with her even though she could have run so many times.

Something clenches in Wynonna’s chest, and she nearly forgets how to breathe.  She does have a family.  And it’s right here in front of her.  Just the three of them against the world.  Her sister, and…  her sister’s girlfriend?  Her…  Nicole?  Her…  best friend.  The words feel foreign in her mind.  She’s never had a best friend before.  Not really.  But she looks back over everything she and Nicole have been through, and she thinks maybe…  maybe this is what that is supposed to feel like.  

Besides.  Something tells her that at some point, she’ll eventually have to start calling Nicole her sister, too.

She doesn’t think that would be such a bad thing.

“You okay?” she hears Waverly asking, and she realizes that both Waverly and Nicole staring at her with raised eyebrows.

Fuck.  Get your shit together, Earp.

“Uh, yeah…”  She clears her throat a couple of times and gives her patented thumbs up.  “All good.  You guys ready to get out of here?” she asks, hoping to distract them.

“Please,” Nicole answers wearily.

“Grab your bag and toss me your keys, Babygirl.  I’ll drive your Jeep home so you can ride with Haughtstuff.”

“You sure?” Waverly asks, her eyes lighting up.

“Of course.  Go take care of your girl,” she says, walking over to kiss the side of Waverly’s head as she takes the keys out of her hand.

“Nicole said she’s starving.  We were gonna stop by Mama Lou’s.”  Waverly’s voice is muffled as she digs through the cab of the Jeep for her bag and her purse.  “You wanna join us before you head home?” she asks when her head pops back out again.

Wynonna glances over at Nicole, not wanting to intrude on their time together, but Nicole nods at her with a warm smile.

“Sounds good,” she admits.  “I could murder a stack of pancakes.”

“We’ll follow you there,” Nicole says as she watches Waverly settle into the passenger seat of her squad car.

Wynonna nods and turns to climb into the Jeep, but stops when she feels a hand on her arm.

“Wynonna…”  Nicole’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times like a fish out of water as she tries to find the words to say.  “Thanks,” she finally settles on.  “I, uh…  I don’t think I could have made it through today without you.”

Wynonna smiles genuinely, no trace of sarcasm or teasing.  Then she shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say.

“You’re family, Nicole.”

[skvaderarts]

Chapter Nine: Tranquility

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Nine: Tranquility

Note: I had such a good laugh reading the comments for the last chapter! SkylarMorgan1899, HunterJamie, Mallovarwen, He Who Wanders, and Aureux all made wonderful points and observations, and I can’t wait until we reach the point in the story where we start to cover the topics you mentioned. Don’t worry everyone, it’s only going to get better from here! Thanks for checking out the story.

-~-

Vergil watched the van pull off and head down the street with a note of finality to his posture. Although they had succeeded in revitalizing V, there was still much to do, and the eldest Son of Sparda couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Though he would never show it outwardly, something about this situation did not sit well with him. Despite the fact that he had very little prior experience to go on, he was confident that he could trust Nero to keep a close eye on his eldest son. And yet, there was still apprehension. But was it directed at Nero or some unknown source of anxiety? His lack of control over the situation wasn’t something he was used to, but this was something distinctly different that added to his misgivings.

He couldn’t understand how he knew it, but something was going to happen soon.

And he had no idea what to do about it. That unnerved him more than anything.

Relinquishing control over a situation was not something that Vergil was accustomed to, and this was not the environment that he would prefer to learn in, but he had no choice. His son had made a valid point when he had pointed out that they could not bring V here in his current state. He was vulnerable, and being in a building that was practically a hub for supernatural entities wasn’t a very good idea. But to have them both so far from reach should his premonitions prove true? It wasn’t ideal in the slightest.

Dante flung open the front doors of the office and headed over to his desk. As he plopped down into his trusty chair, his older twin entered the building and closed the door behind himself. The Youngest Son of Sparda used his thumb to gesture towards the door that led to the back area of the office. 

“Pretty sure I forgot to mention that the bathroom is back there. It’s across from the spare room,” Dante paused at the statement, something evidently occurring to him. A slight smirk crossed his face for a second before he continued,” Well, it was the spare room. Guess it’s yours now. Mine’s upstairs. The kitchen is around where Nero went earlier.”

Dante tilted his head in the direction Nero had gone the day before and watched Vergil’s gaze cross silently between the door and the kitchen’s general area. He then nodded slightly and approached the backroom door. After pausing for a moment, he opened it and disappeared behind it without a word. The action wasn’t aggressive or born of malcontent, and as such there was no agitation or ill will behind it. Simply silence. The younger twin kicked his feet up onto the desk as he heard a second door open and close. He hadn’t done so very loudly. It was simply a case of unreasonably good hearing on Dante’s part.

After a few minutes of total silence apart from the negligible noise made by the ceiling fans, Dante began to doze off. Just as he was passing over the cusp of consciousness, it suddenly occurred to him that it had been entirely too quiet for far too long. He pulled his legs down from the desk and stood up, uneager to find out what his identical twin was up to. He approached the backroom door and opened it to find the adjacent bathroom door closed. Across from it was the door to the bedroom on this floor, and it was slightly cracked open. Unless Vergil had slipped out of the window at the end of the hallway (which was unlikely since there were blinds attached to it), Dante was willing to guess he had gone into the bedroom.

The Youngest Son of Sparda leaned forward and pushed on the door, not considering the fact that he should have probably knocked until the door was a third of the way open. When his brother didn’t throw Yamato through the door and impale him, Dante decided to test the waters and see just how far his luck would hold. He craned his neck over to one side and peeped into the room, curious to see what Vergil could be up to that had held his normally barely contained wrath at bay for this long.

For the most part, the space was furnished very basically. A standing wardrobe sat in one corner, and a matching bed with two accompanying bedside tables spanned the space in the middle of the grey painted room. Black linen covered the bed and the somewhat dusty blinds that covered the only window in the room were closed, lending the medium-sized space a rather dark atmosphere. As his eyes settled upon the relatively dark space, Dante stopped, surprised by the sight he found before him.

Laying in the middle of the bed was Vergil.

 And he was very clearly fast asleep.

It honestly hadn’t occurred to Dante before that his brother might be tired. After all, the two of them hadn’t lived together since they were children, and the eldest of Sparda’s two sons had never been one to let his mental or physical state of mind slip through the cracks. Vergil had been awake every moment since his restoration, and that had been quite a while now. At least the better part of four days. And unlike Dante, he had never sat down and allowed himself to rest. It was as if he avoided sleeping on purpose...

Dante shook his head and backed out of the room, deciding that returning to his office was probably the best course of action he could take at the moment. He could use a nap himself. He carefully eased the door closed and ventured back down the hallway, flopping back into his favorite chair. His legs returned to their natural state on his desk and he picked up a magazine to read. He had no doubt that he would be joining Vergil shortly.

-~-

Like most living beings, V had done his fair share of things that he had come to regret later on. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, after all, and that was simply how things were. But V was now absolutely cursing his brain for its lack of functional cognitive capacity at this particularly given interval.

Not very long after Nero and Kyrie had left the room, V had gotten dressed in the spare clothes that she had brought him and he had decided to get up and explore the house. This was a decision that was complicated slightly by the fact that his head felt like it was underwater, his eyes seemed to be photosensitive, and he had barely any feeling in his body at all as of present, especially his legs. He had taken a few blind, careful steps towards the door to his bedroom, only to find that he grew progressively weaker with every step he took at an alarming rate. It had presumably taken the very last of his startlingly low energy reserves for him to stand up straight against nothing and open the door towards himself to try and step out into the foyer, because the second he did so he felt unmistakably faint. And that had been the last coherent sensation he had experienced before he careened towards the floor.

With seemingly perfect timing, Nero had come past him and managed to grab him mere moments before he would have otherwise collapsed and more than likely bashed his head against the entryway pavers. The youngest descendant of Sparda braced him against himself to keep him from falling almost lifelessly onto the ground before trying to rouse him and making no progress. Nero shook his head and knelt down further so that he could get a better grip on V before carefully lifting him and throwing him over his shoulder. He then stood up with him and reopened the door to the guest room, entering with the intention of putting him back where he belonged. As soon as he was safely back in the bed, Nero left the room and headed for the phone that hung on the wall between the kitchen and the entryway. He removed the small semi-gloss piece of paper that Magnolia had given him from his pocket and examined it carefully, gleaning everything he could from it and storing it away in his mind for later. He then dialed the number on the note and waited. After two rings or, the line picked up.

“Hello! This is Magnolia’s Aromatics and Herbalists. You seem to be calling from my personal line instead of the store line, so I assume I gave you my card?”

Nero nodded to himself. Duly noted. He needed a second line like this. Having one number made his life a bit more difficult than it probably needed to be, and that was a sentiment that he knew Dante shared due to Patty’s insistent phone calls alone. He should bring that up to him at a later date. “Hey, it’s Nero. I just had a couple of questions about-”

“Oh! Hello dear! Wonderful to hear from you,” She interjected cheerfully, not quite letting him finish, but unaware of her mistake,” Is this about your brother, then?”

“Yea it is,” He confirmed, absent-mindedly glancing back at the bedroom door,” All the stuff you said he might go through happened, and then some. I’m pretty sure he fainted when he tried to get up and walk around. And his memory seems a little patchy in a couple of places. Is that normal?”

She paused for a moment as if taking in his words before answering again. “Yes, that does tend to happen. Anything he has forgotten should return gradually along with his powers and the like. What did he forget specifically? Did he say?”

Nero considered his next question carefully before turning his attention back to the phone. He probably needed to go and check on V again before he woke up and tried to come looking for them. That hadn’t gone very well the last time. “He forgot how he died and some of the stuff right before it, I think. Also, I don’t think he really has powers like that. He was using these demon summons things and he had, like, these magic tattoos or something. But I’ve never seen him use any other kind of powers. I don’t know, I could be wrong. I don’t know how most of this kinda shit works. I just kill demons.”

Magnolia stayed silent for a long moment as she took in what Nero had just told her. Nero stared at the phone quietly, becoming more uneasy as the time passed. After a full minute of silence, he started to wonder if they had become disconnected. “Hey, are you still there?

After a brief pause, she answered. “Oh! Sorry about that. You just took me off guard, is all. You said he possessed summons that were linked to him via tattoos and that you’ve never seen him exhibit any signs of possessing demonic powers?” She seemed taken aback by the statement as if it were totally unheard of.

Nero couldn’t help but notice her change in demeanor. Had he said something he shouldn’t have? “Yea, he had two or three of them… that not good?”

She took a moment to think about what to say on the other end of the line. Nero could practically feel her thinking of a nice way to say that yes, it absolutely probably was bad. “Well, it depends entirely upon the strength of the summoner, the power of the demons, and what they require in return for their assistance,” She said in an almost matter of fact way,” Most demons require the soul of their host to form a contract, but that clearly wasn’t the case in this instance.”

The young man with the short white hair clenched his brow slightly at the statement. How did she-

“If a soul is claimed by a demon, then it goes to that demon the instant that they die. My spell wouldn’t have worked Regardless,” She said, seemingly noting that she hadn’t elaborated on that facet of her analysis,” I’m actually quite impressed. If he did maintain three demons, then he is quite strong, powers or not. Although I will have to look into the status of his abilities. A descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda with no demonic power seems entirely impossible, especially if he’s your older brother. It’s extraordinarily uncommon. Perhaps his inborn gifts are simply… dormant.”

Nero nodded to himself. That made practical sense to him. But then how had V gotten demons that tough to safeguard him? In his experience, demons didn’t normally just go along with the requests of those they deemed weaker than them, especially those of mixed blood. They were much quicker to just try and bash your skull in. Another question for another time, then. That list was growing.

“Ok, well, I’m gonna go check on him. I’ll let you know if anything happens,” Nero said as he looked towards V’s door. He could have sworn he heard something…

“Good idea. Make sure he gets plenty of rest. Food and water would be a good idea as well, although I’m not optimistic about him being able to actually keep food down,” She said reassuringly,” Don’t worry yourself sick over him. I have a good feeling about him. We can speak on this again later on when he’s in better shape. Goodbye!”

Nero thanked her and excused himself before hanging up the phone. As soon as the phone was back on the receiver, Nero headed back over to the guest room door. As he inched the door open, he caught sight of V. The longer white-haired man was still partially lying in the bed, his head and upper torso against the wall. He was breathing slightly heavy and his hair was stuck to his face with sweat. Although he seemed to be awake, his eyes were closed and he was shivering slightly. It wasn’t very hard for Nero to make the educated guess that he was probably clammy and feeling very sick. After all, due to the thunderstorm that was rolling in from the mainland, the temperature on Fortuna island was actually quite frigid, all things considered. There was no reason that he should be sweating.

There was no need for further examination. He was just going to bring V something to drink and start there. Last he had checked, most people weren’t allergic to water, sick or not. Nero went into the kitchen and poured a glass of cold water out of the picture in the fridge. Dinner wouldn’t be ready for an hour or two and there was no leftover lasagna to offer him thanks to Dante and Vergil having been there to help eat it the night before, so Nero opted to just start with the water.

He opened the door slowly to find that not much had changed since he’d stepped away a moment ago. V had opened his eyes at the very least, so Nero was sure he was awake (unless he slept with his eyes open…) and he was shivering much less. Nero walked over to him and sat the glass down on the bedside table. He took a seat next to him on the side of the bed, taking a mental note of the fact that V seemed to be watching him without moving. Nero then gestured towards the glass of water.

“The woman that helped us bring you back says you should drink that and get some rest,” Nero said as he touched the back of his hand to V’s limp arm, the uninvited contact causing him to shiver,” I’m pretty sure you have a fever or something. You're kinda clammy…”

V shifted slightly and reached for the glass, giving Nero an almost appreciative glance. He carefully lifted the glass and took a sip before pausing for a moment. He then scarfed the cold liquid down quickly, clearly more thirsty than he had previously imagined. Nero watched and scoffed to himself. “Hey, um, are you trying to make yourself sicker than you already are?”

V placed the glass back onto the bedside table and allowed himself to sink into the wall. Exhaustion was clearly evident in his posture. After a moment, a look akin to nausea settled across his face and he closed his eyes in the hopes that this would somehow cause his discomfort to subside. After several moments of heavy, uncomfortably ragged breathing, he exhaled and slowly reopened his eyes. He met Nero’s gaze, the younger of the two clearly taken aback by his brother’s rapid and violent fluctuation in health. After a moment, V sighed and closed his eyes. He was now much more stable than he had been a few moments prior. 

“...I don’t think I have ever been that thirsty in my entire life.” He said in an almost astounded tone of voice.

Nero shook his head and shrugged, trying subconsciously to shake off his discomfort. Magnolia had told him that this would pass, so he was just going to have to go with that. “I can’t imagine you have. You just drank that glass of water in a couple seconds flat.”

V nodded quietly as though he were confirming something to himself. He slowly pushed off the wall he had been propped up against and came to a sitting position, not falling forward dizzily like he had the first time he had tried to do that. The familiar look of deep thought that Nero had become so accustomed to settled back into its proper place on V’s face as he seemed to ponder something quietly to himself. The cursory action of parting his lips had just begun when his gaze left Nero and traveled to something behind him. Nero glanced over his shoulder to find Carlo standing in the doorway, his small body partially obscured by the door. His little face bore the unmistakable look of a small child who had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been.

It took actual effort for Nero not to snicker at the startled look on his adopted child’s face. He could only imagine that Kyrie had told him not to come in here, but the adventurous child simply couldn’t help himself. He shifted uncomfortably back and forth for a moment, his eyes moving from Nero to V. A look of confusion and intrigue crossed his face as V craned his head to one side to get a better look at the small child. Nero called over to him and gestured for him to come into the room and he did so, using both of his hands to push the door closed behind himself.

Nero scooped the small child up and sat him between himself and V. The green-eyed man gave the curly-haired little boy a curious look before the child spoke loud and clear. “Hello! I’m Carlo. Do you live here now, too? Your new.”

V was genuinely amused by the forward way that the child had introduced himself to him, if you could call his question an introduction. He nodded very slowly, trying not to aggravate his barely contained nausea and vertigo. “I’m V. Wonderful to meet you, Carlo.” 

The tiny child smiled brightly as Nero sat him down and pointed him in the direction of the front door. He hurried off, running out of the door as fast as his tiny little legs would carry him saying something about Kyrie need his help with dinner as he went. Nero nodded to himself as he stood up and grabbed the cup off of the bedside table before heading to the door. As he opened it, he turned back to V, shooting him a playful but serious look. “I’ll bring you some more water after I check-in with Kyrie. You keep your skinny ass in the bed and go back to sleep. I don’t want to catch you falling half-dead into the front hall again.”

Before V could respond to that statement, he closed the door and left. He needed to find out what Kyrie needed. V then leaned back against the wall again and closed his eyes. He would rest a moment until Nero returned. -~-

Holy hell, I am so so sorry that this is as late as it is! I meant to have this up forever ago, but I was simply exhausted and didn’t get to it in time. I’m going to bed and I’ll be immediately working on the next chapter. Sorry if this one is 300 or so words shorter than my average chapters. I think quarantine is getting to me or something because I’m so sleepy most of the time now. Again, thank you for reading, and I can’t wait to see you in the next chapter on Friday. AND IT WILL BE ON TIME! Sorry for any errors. I was tired when I was editing this.

[lopsided-whiskey-grin]

Fire Meet Gasoline

It was about two weeks after the Mandalorian, an ex-shock trooper, and a rag-tag group of villagers worked together to bring down a Klatooinian raider gang and one hell of a nasty AT-ST that Dyn found himself sitting on a porch watching the sun set. He still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it off; a bunch of inexperienced Omegas and Betas with sharpened sticks? A small part of him had thought they were all doomed for sure. But Omera had surprised the hell out of him with her blaster handling skills and he knew they’d at least have a chance. 

As Dyn watched, the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, splashing the clearing and surrounding trees in a purple-hued gloaming. He welcomed the oncoming night, hoping it would bring a little relief from the day’s unseasonably balmy temperatures. Enfolded by a stillness he’d had never known, it struck him how this was the longest he’d spent in one place since he’d been a child, well before his differentiation into an Omega and his first heat. He’d always moved from place to place, job to job, with hardly a break in between. This was The Way. But this interlude here in Omera’s village, as unexpected and long as it had been, seemed destined to be. 

A dawning realization hit him then, along with a sudden unwelcome warmth low in his belly, and he lurched upright in his chair. 

“Shit.”

When was the last time he’d taken his heat suppressant? He hadn’t planned on this job taking more than a week so he’d left most of his essentials on the Crest back in town and those essentials included his twice monthly pills. He had been so preoccupied with trying to keep the villagers (and the kid and Winta and Omera) alive he hadn’t even spent a fucking thought on his suppressants. He cursed himself for being so careless. 

With his ship more than a day’s journey away, there was no way he’d make it back before the overwhelming clutch of the first heat he’d had in years raked him over the coals. Dyn licked his lips, hidden under the cover of his helm, and fisted his suddenly trembling hands on his knees. He looked from side to side, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He had to get out of here. 

Just then Omera walked around the corner of the hut beside his, lit in a beautiful wash of campfire and moonlight. She was heading straight toward him, a question already forming on her lips. 

“Would you like to join us toni-”

Dyn stood abruptly, his wooden chair flying back against the hut with the force of the movement, and quickly retreated into the abode, slamming the thin door behind him. He despised being so rude, but he was quickly becoming desperate to be alone. And without an Alpha anywhere in sight to help him through this oncoming heat he came close to panic. He wrapped his arms around his middle and paced about the small living space, his breath coming out through the voice modulator in harsh pants. wondering how in the hell he was going to get through this. If there was a small mercy in any of this it was that the kid was with the other children at a sleepover tonight. 

Being an Omega was something Dyn had slowly come to terms with in his adult life, but he never considered it a defining characteristic. He had always seen himself as strong, willful, even with that tractable title of Omega. Never one to beg or plead, he only ever relied on himself, stubbornly denying the submissive nature of the dynamic. He was so much more than the weak and vulnerable nature that society dictated of an Omega, and he’d worked harder than most to shirk those labels. The Mandalorians willingly accepted any type into their clan and had accepted Dyn just the same, but he felt like he had had to fight and claw his way to the position he was in now; it had not been an easy road but this was The Way. 

He had tried and mostly succeeded in hiding his dynamic, taking his suppressants religiously and probably too often, if he was being honest. He just wanted to do everything in his power to avoid being reduced to the needy, wanting, shameless mess he became when he was in heat. But now he had no choice. 

Heavy arousal hit him low in his stomach and he sank to his knees with a moan. His cock, suddenly and painfully erect, strained against his cargos and he pressed the heel of his hand to it, but felt no relief. Heat seared across his skin, making his clothes feel far too confining. His body ached for the thick knot of an Alpha and he had no way to quench the scorching wildfire growing more out of control with every passing second. 

Omera’s voice filtered in through the door and Dyn had to bite back a strangled groan. “Is everything all right?” she asked softly. 

“Please,” he rasped. He meant to finish with leave me alone but the words wouldn’t come. He knew in this village of Omegas and Betas, with Cara grouped in the latter, there would be no one to help him through this. Tears welled in his eyes as another wave of heat swept through him, tightening his guts, making it hard to think clearly, and he crawled across the room to the bed. 

Omera was so quiet at the door Dyn thought she had left. But then she spoke again. “I can help,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Goddamnit.” He didn’t need her help, he needed to be left alone. But that wasn’t quite right though, was it? He didn’t need to be alone. He needed an Alpha who could bend him over and fuck this cursed heat out of him until he couldn’t see straight. The sudden mental image of a strong, capable Alpha taking control, opening him up, filling him beyond capacity caused a sudden rush of moisture to slick down his inner thigh. 

Shaking, Dyn somehow managed to pull himself up onto the bed. He slumped down onto his side, trying to coordinate his fingers enough pull off his gloves and undo the vambraces on his forearms, but they wouldn’t comply.

Omera was suddenly back with a polite but firm knock on the door before walking into the hut. He rolled away from her, not wanting her to see him like this. Perspiration slicked his skin beneath his clothes and helmet, stifling and far too constricting, and he curled in on himself helplessly.

“Omera, please go,” he rasped.

He heard her step up beside the bed with her hands full of something. “You’re in heat,” she said matter-of-factly and Dyn barked out a humorless laugh. How did she guess? 

She ignored his sarcasm and continued on. “You don’t think a whole village of Omegas without an Alpha in sight would not be prepared to help one another through it when the time comes?”

Dyn stilled except for his labored breathing and he slowly turned his head to look back at her. She wore a patient and understanding smile and held a large muslin sack in her hands. A corked water jug rested on top. His mouth thirsted for a drink. 

Omera set the items on the floor and helped him up to a sitting position. Kneeling down, she settled a hand on his knee and looked up at him. The touch, as light as it was, sent a shock-wave through him that went straight to his cock. Arousal was clouding his brain, making it hard to think. Dyn swallowed against a dry throat.

She patted his leg then began unpacking the bag after setting the water jug beside him on the bed. His fingers found the glass neck and he grasped it in one hand almost hard enough to crack it. His other hand was pressed firmly to the bulge at his crotch, trying to relieve the ever building pressure to no avail as he watched Omera pull items from the sack. 

 First came a blanket and a few washcloths then a rather large, complex-looking dildo, and finally a vial with a screw top lid. Dyn looked at the array of items in a guarded wonder; it seemed this village was prepared after all. 

Sitting back on her haunches, Omera opened the vial and all at once the cloying scent of Alpha pheromones assaulted Dyn’s senses. He dipped his head down in instinctive submission and doubled forward with a weak cry, almost toppling off the bed. His breath came in rapid, ragged puffs and more moisture soaked his pants. The scent was undeniably heady and perfect and held the promise of being well bred and sated.

Omera turned back toward him, concern drawing her brows together. “Why haven’t you undressed yet? We need to get these clothes off of you. You will burn up.“ 

Dyn shook his head. "I - I can’t.” Not even in midst of this scorching heat would he dishonor the Mandalorian creed by taking off his helmet in front of her. 

Omera sighed but nodded her understanding. She quickly stood and looked about the small room - for what he did not know. The Alpha pheromones were damn near driving him out of his mind. He squeezed his thighs together and shifted his ass down into the bed but nothing helped, and nothing would - except an Alpha’s knot. 

Omera quickly came back to him with a long, narrow strip of red cloth draped over her palms. “If I can’t see your face, you would be able to remove the gear, yes? I know you won’t be able to breathe with that thing on when we get in the thick of it and you’ll need to drink plenty of water to stay hydrated.”

“All valid points,” he conceded, coming to the very end of his control. “Put it on.”

He watched her tie the cloth over her eyes and knot it at the back of her head. The sight of her like that made his heart pump double time. There was no denying Omera was gorgeous, but the fact that she was willing to do this for him, to him, turned him on all the more. 

She held out a hand and Dyn took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet on shaky legs. Closing the space between them, she reached up blindly until her hands were on either side of his helmet, her head tilting up and her lips parting. She began lifting, and in a replay of that moment just a few days earlier, Dyn instinctively grasped her wrists. She paused, seemingly awaiting his consent. When his hands fell to his sides in surrender, she slowly lifted it up and off. 

That strong Alpha scent was even more intoxicating without the barrier of the helm and Dyn’s knees buckled. Omera helped to steady him then they both worked quickly to undo his armor and shed his boots and clothes. He stood before her laid utterly bare - the first time he’d been in such a state in many, many years - even though she couldn’t see him. The cool night air kissed his sweat slick skin and he began to shiver even as the warmth of his heat still simmered just under the surface. 

Omera’s hands suddenly found his body and she trailed hungry touches over every angle and curve, seeing him with her senses, not her eyes. Her fingers caught lightly over old scars, his nipples, his chest hair. Dyn bit his bottom lip to stop a gasp from tumbling from his mouth. 

She tilted her head to the side and Dyn could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her neck. “The pheromones,” she whispered. “They’re starting to affect me too." 

Alpha heat-response pheromones were notorious for pulling in immediate bystanders whether they were in heat or not, though the effect wasn’t near as strong as it was for an Omega on their cycle. 

Her fingers continued their journey down his stomach to his cock, rubbing up the achingly hard shaft then down to fondle his balls. "Omera.” He shuddered under her touch. A warning? A plea for mercy? Both all at once? Dyn did not know. 

Without waiting another second, he wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her clothed body against his own nakedness. Dipping his head down, he bumped their foreheads together in a gentle Mandalorian Keldabe kiss, then captured her mouth with a tentative press of his lips. Which, after an unexpected but wholy welcome sweep of her tongue, Omera turned into a searing crush of need-driven desire.

When they were both properly breathless, Dyn pulled back with a palm cupping her jaw. He drug the pad of his thumb across her kiss-bruised bottom lip and she drew just the tip in for a quick taste of his skin. He was so hard it was painful. 

“I- I need,” he choked out the words, swallowed, tried again, “you. I need you to break me of this heat." 

Omera released his thumb and nodded. "I will.”

He undressed her then with a few fumbling flicks of his wrists and led her to the edge of the bed. He could not wait another moment. As he watched, Omera stooped down, her hands blindly feeling for the muslin sack she’d brought with her. She found the dildo and pheromone vial and straightened again. A shiver of anticipation flushed through Dyn that was quickly burned up by another heavy wave of heat. A thick trail of moisture tracked down his inner thigh and he grabbed up the corked jug beside him for a couple greedy chugs of water. 

“On all fours, Mando.” Omera’s voice wasn’t quite the commanding tone of an Alpha, but it was just assertive enough to bring out the submissive nature he usually tried hiding, but in this moment he could no longer deny. He immediately complied, resting his head down on his forearms and presenting his ass for the taking. 

“It’s Dyn,” he murmured into the sheets beneath him. 

“Dyn,” she said reverently, like the offering of his name was a sacred gift. 

He felt the bed dip as she crawled onto the mattress behind him and his cock throbbed. Scorching arousal tightened his stomach almost unbearably and he spread his legs a little wider, urging her to please just end his suffering already. 

Omera’s hand was suddenly on his hip, her skin blessedly cool against his, and he moaned. The vial of Alpha scent was opened again and this time she splashed a couple of drops onto the dildo. She rubbed the phallus up and down his crack, damn near driving him out of his mind. 

“I haven’t done this blindfolded before,” she admitted. She teased his hole with just the tip. 

“But you have done this before, right?” he panted. He trusted her more than anyone, but he had to know he wasn’t in inexperienced hands.      

“Oh, yes.” Without another moment’s hesitation she began pushing the tool inside. 

Dyn’s immediately twisted his fingers into the bedding. “Kriff,” he swore, stars exploding behind his tightly closed eyes. It was the perfect amount of pressure and girth, stretching him open with an exquisite burn. The heat inside him swelled to overwhelming crescendo and he pushed his hips back eagerly, taking the full length at once.  

Omera squeezed his hip. “You take it so well, Dyn,” she praised as she maneuvered herself flush behind him. 

The plaudit stroked his Omega’s heart exactly how he needed it and he let out a low whine of pleasure. His thighs began trembling as his body screamed for Omera to keep going. “Please, don’t stop.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With one hand grasped at the base of the dildo, she leaned forward over his back and latched on to his shoulder for leverage. Then she began moving. Swift, strong thrusts pounded his ass, pushing the cock in as deep as it would go with every snap of her hips, filling him in a way he’d never experienced before. He tried keeping up, pushing back on every shove forward, but the Alpha pheromones mixing with the scent of his arousal and hers, and the way her breasts grazed his skin, and the way she stretched him open, made it fucking impossible to even think straight. All he could do was moan weakly against the onslaught. 

Her hand moved from his shoulder to his hair, tangling her fingers into the thick, dark strands. She tugged and he brought his head up rapidly, willing her to use him however she saw fit, his body howling for her knot. Changing the angle of her thrusts minutely while continuing her brutal onslaught, Omera’s cock hit Dyn directly on that swollen bundle of nerves deep inside him. He cried out, tears welling in his eyes from the staggering amount of pleasure crashing against him, battering him like a ship lost in the stormy waters on Kamino. Precome leaked from his achingly hard erection down onto the bed. 

“You sound like you’re nearly there, Dyn.” She released his hair and he sunk his head back down to the bed. He tried and failed to control his breathing. Grasping his hip again, she pushed in harder, faster. “Are you ready for this knot?”

“Yes, oh, please, please, yes.” The words fell from his lips in a hoarse, shameless tumble. 

Omera pushed in one last time with a groan, nailing his prostate full force, and he came with a broken shout, spurting gleaming ropes of his spend all over the sheets. Just as he climaxed, the cock emptied some sort of synthetic release that was just as hot and perfect as the real thing deep inside him then began expanding in his ass, trapping the thick liquid, knotting him, thankfully breaking his heat for the time being. He knew he would only have a short time to rest before it was back, scorching him from the inside out, but for now it was abating. 

His body shook with the force of the aftershocks of one of the hardest orgasms he’d ever had and Omera gently helped to lay him down on his side. She spooned behind him, skin to skin, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his side, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder. The cock remained embedded inside him, still working to keep the second round of heat at bay momentarily. 

“Thank you for,” he began, grasping her hand and pulling it around to his chest. 

“Shh,” she quieted him. She absently traced circles through his chest hair, sending mini tremors through to his core at the intimacy of it. “No need to thank me.”

“And yet I do. I could not get through this without you.” 

“Then we are even,” she countered, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “You saved me and now I have saved you.”

He chuckled and brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. Finding this planet seemed like some sort of cosmic kismet. Finding Omera here was his destiny. His heart swelled and he blinked back a curious sting of tears at the back of his eyes. He’d never felt such a strong pull before.  

Arousal bloomed slow and warm in his belly and he pushed his ass back against her. She gasped behind him and he smiled. “Again already, Dyn?” 

“Appears so.” He tugged her hand down to his hardening cock so she could feel for herself. 

Grasping his length, Omera nibbled playfully at his shoulder. “So it does.” 

[endlesstalesofwonder]

Speeding Along

So here I was, watching the YouTube, and this prompt just landed in my lap and I couldn’t not do anything with it. C’mon.

“A friend once set me up on a blind date. I wasn’t in a great mood because I had received a traffic ticket a few hours before. My day got worse when my blind date turned out to be the cop who gave me the ticket. #WorstFirstDate”

Stiles always thought he was given the worst luck in the world, sucking out all the misfortune out of his friends and family so he could suffer for them. At least, that’s how he decided to view it for the entirety of his twenty-four years. The past week had been fine, bearable. That only meant some serious shit was going to go down and he didn’t know when.

He checked his messages before climbing into his jeep. The office building towered over him, casting a looming shadow over him as though he didn’t already have enough dread pooling between his shoulders.

Turning on the car, it was immediately flooded with the strumming of Stay Home by Self. The irony of the universe was never so careless. Maybe he should just camp out in his office. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He was barely getting onto the freeway when the shrieking ring of his Bluetooth stereo signaled a call. It took a moment for the system to shift, displaying the slow rolling familiar digits of the only woman he would never not answer.

“You’re going. That’s final.”

Stiles restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Whenever he did, the woman always had the uncanny ability to tell that he was doing it. “Hello, Lydia. I’m great. How are you?”

“Hi, Stiles,” she huffed. Like her, Stiles could tell whenever she flipped her hair when she was frustrated. “You never answered my texts.”

“I figured my silence was enough of an answer.”

“Stiles!” The stereo did not like the idea of his name being shrieked through the cheap system, rattling and warping the sound out of proportion before settling back with the soft rippling of static from Lydia’s surroundings. “You’re going out.”

The man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose to relieve the pressure there. It never helped, but the habit stuck after watching it on tv when he was young. Stupid television idols.

Lydia had gotten into the frame of mind that Stiles had become Single-Desperate-and-Alone. And his only defense was that he was not desperate — just tired of looking and waiting. He’d been on several blind dates, ranging from no good to awkward to very, very bad. The last date ended with being sneezed in the face after suggesting that they should not go on another date. Now, he was afraid of getting within arm’s distance of any human being.

“What if I don’t even like the guy?” What if he doesn’t like me? What if he’s a couch slob? What if all he has to wear is a single pair of acid washed jeans and mesh tee that had THE MAN bedazzled onto the back? “I don’t think I could deal with that kind of rejection.”

“Stop being melodramatic.”

Stiles pulled off of the Interstate and onto one of the side roads that lead to the main road back into town. It was supposed to be a secret short-cut around the interstate traffic, but now all navigation directed people towards this road. Damn internet. “Will it get me out of this date?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t stop.”

“This is ridiculous. If you don’t like him — and I’m sure you will —” Stiles sighed. That’s what she’d said about the others as well. “Then this will be the last time I meddle.”

“No more meddling in my love life?” A soft grunt came through the speakers. “I need to hear it.”

“Yes.” Stiles turned onto the main road, familiar trees flanking him on either side. The town sign should be nearby, closer if he pushed the limits.

“Meddling being any kind of date, blind or otherwise…”

“Yes.”

Welcome to Beacon Hills, the main said read as Stiles passed it, though the words were blurred. He just wanted to go home and get this to-be-horrible-date over with.

“Or mysteriously running into someone in the street because someone pushed them…”

“That was one time. Fine.”

“Then we have an agreement.” Then, as though striking a match into light, red and blue lights alternated behind him. “Fuck. Fuck! Fuckity-Fuck-Shit-Dammit—”

“Stiles?”

“I’ll call you back.” He hung up on her, pulling over onto the side of the road, then turned off the car. Another string of swears bubbled up in his throat and stayed there as the officer approached.

He rested his head back against the seat, cool and collected. This was not his first time being pulled over, not even one of the first dozen. By now, Stiles had perfected the art of ticket skimming.

The officer approached his passenger window, to avoid the onslaught of traffic feeding into the town at this time — none. Stiles, begrudgingly, rolled down the window in question as the man bent over just slightly to accommodate his height. Jesus. “You were going 54 in a 40. Do you have anything to say?”

All Stiles could process was the fact that the man was the epitome of dirty, sexy cop: fitted uniform, dark everything — scruff, hair, eyebrows that peaked out from the equally dark reflective ray bands — “I’m dyslexic?”

“Oh?” That stupid eyebrow on his stupid face crooked upwards in nothing other than pure amusement. Shit. “So you think you were going 45 in a 40.”

“... Yes.” No.

“That’s still speeding. License and registration.”

Mentally, his eyes narrowed. He dug through the black hole of a glove box and pulled out his registration that he tucked into what he called the Jeep Bible (key: manual). Then ruffled through his wallet for his license. The man took the items as Stiles found them, walking back to his car as Stiles tried to make him explode with his mind. If only.

It didn’t take long, which was also a bad sign. He had gotten tickets before that took longer because the officer was lenient enough to grant other, lesser offenses than the whopping three-hundred-plus speeding ticket. This man was testing his perfected art.

The ticket was stated as the regular three-hundred and sixty and his wallet tensed at the idea of being emptied. Again. The officer went through the readings like he was supposed to: memorized, mechanical, and purely professional. Then, the man said his goodbyes and left.

“Thanks, asshole,” he muttered, taking a glance at the signed name at the bottom of the ticket. He’d burn the name into his memory if it meant never having to see the man again. Knowing his audience, he took his time to pull off the side of the road and cautiously — it was tempting not to just peel out of there — drive back to his apartment.

Deputy Hale. Stiles hated him.

Once he got back to his apartment, he had all of ten seconds alone before his phone burst out into a blaze of chirps and rings. Lydia Martin.

He picked up, despite the dampened mood. “What?”

“What? What, he asks.” The roar of traffic picked up in the background. She was traveling somewhere. He could even hear the click of her heels. “How about you tell me what just happened?”

“I got a ticket for speeding. No big deal.”

A horn honked, and Stiles couldn’t tell if it was from the phone or from outside. “Good! I hear that going out is the perfect thing to fix that.”

“Listen, Lyds. I’m not in the mood for a date, certainly not now.” A knock sounded on the door. Add another tally to the series of bad timings, Universe. “Hold on.”

Stiles opened the door, ready to unleash the fear of God onto the person who would even dare approach his door despite the No Solicitor sign — and Lydia stood at the door with one hand on her hip and the other hanging up the phone call.

“Don’t call me Lyds,” she snapped, then let herself in.

“Come in, why don’t you.”

She stopped in the living room, spinning on her heel to rake her eyes over his body. “The shirt needs to go. The pants might work, with the right top. The shoes can stay.”

“I’m not going out.”

“We made a deal.” Lydia, ever the Goddess, crossed her hands over her chest. It was all business then. “I suppose that means I can continue to meddle in your life. Your neighbor isn’t seeing anyone lately, maybe they can —”

“How do you even — Fine. Fine!” That was all she needed. She flew into his bedroom and pulled a shirt he didn’t even know existed and threw it in his face. Whatever made her stay out of his love life, it was worth a dinner.

Stiles couldn’t sit still for the life of him. He rearranged the silverware before readjusting the positions of the cups and finally gave up. He buried himself in the sea of dished on the menu.

There were thirteen ways to get out of the restaurant. The first would be to go out the front door, but that would run the risk of potentially showing his blind date that he was trying to sneak out. The windows were not an option because they were beginning to draw the drapes shut and getting through that thick of fabric was a no go in any capacity. The kitchens would be open, but the number of sharp objects that could get in the way were higher than his chances of getting out without being banned —

“I’m looking for table 19,” someone asked the front table. That was Stiles’ table. His blind date. A familiar voice.

Stiles looked up from his menu and nearly choked on a lung, burying his head back behind the plastic before the man saw him. “Fuck me.”

The footsteps grew closer and closer, and Stiles’ was able to make out the size of the shoe — no longer the department-issued boots — “Do you need help reading those numbers, or are you fine?”

Motherfucker. Stiles looked up and met Deputy Hale’s mischievous green eyes. “Is that how this is going to go?”

The man slid effortlessly into the chair opposite him. It was a jarring difference, seeing him in both his uniform and street clothes in a manner of hours. Something in Stiles wanted to relax, but his undeniable grudge didn’t.

“Did you really think that was going to work?”

Stiles lowered his gaze back to the menu, none of the words meaning anything to him. “Yeah, actually.”

The man made a low snort, as though biting back a smile — or laugh — that would no doubt make Stiles threw out any poor judgment he’d made in the past few hours.

Silence settled between them, and Stiles, ever the conversationalist — according to his date with Jensen — didn’t know what to do with it. He fumbled with the straw left in his drink and finally bit the bullet.

“I’m not sure I can go out with a man who knows my driving record.”

The man smirked, leaning his arms on the table but not to divide the space between them. “You’re welcome to see mine, but there’s nothing there.”

“Wow,” Stiles drawled, and the Deputy held out his hands like what-can-you-do? “Wow!”

Finally, he laughed. Stiles couldn’t help joining in. The sound of it was infectious, necessary. Despite the poor start, he’d never felt so light.

“Let’s start over.” A hand crossed over the open space of the table between them. “Derek. Hale.”

“Stiles, not — yeah.” Derek’s eyebrow rose. No doubt he had read his legal name and thought to not issue the ticket — it had worked all of four times before — and yet, here they were. Derek Hale was an enigma. He met his hand with his own. “Stiles Stilinski. It’s nice to meet you.”

The waitress came over not long after their restart. It was easy. To fill the silence. Their conversations blended seamlessly through various stages and recounts of their youth. It was a blessing that neither of them had brought up the —

“You may want to slow down.” Stiles paused, the fork full of food just within his mouth’s grip. Derek was smirking, the bastard, and he knew what he was going to say before he even said it. “I wouldn’t want to give you another ticket.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes and ate the damn food anyways. “Ha. Ha. Very funny. I don’t go speeding through everything, you know. You were just… lucky.”

“Oh?” Derek leaned forward again, and Stiles leaned slightly to meet him. “You’ll have to show me then.”

“What?”

“Something you don’t go speeding through.”

Jesus Christ. Stiles was eating. He leaned back, his face no doubt the same shade as the spaghetti he was rather enjoying and now the meatballs were just taunting him — He relaxed. “Maybe later.”

Derek took his water, meeting Stiles’ gaze over the rim. “I look forward to it.”

When Stiles let himself back into his apartment, Lydia had made herself very comfortable by the size of the blanket nest built to accommodate his four-person couch. It was rather impressive.

The screen froze, paused. She turned away from the screen, the light illuminating in a way that would only describe her as having a halo. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged. She opened her mouth to go off, probably to say something about the inability of men to get their head out of their ass — Jason was never a good fit for Stiles anyways — but Stiles stopped her. “We made another date.”

“Oh,” she drew out, settling back into her nest with nothing other than content and satisfaction in her everything. “Told you so.”

“Mmm. Move over.” She obliged, but only barely. He was only granted a fraction of the comfort she had made for herself, clearly raiding everything from the linen cupboard to his own bed. “What are we watching?”

She rolled her eyes, turning on the show with no additional information or even the title. He stayed quiet, watching and waiting for silence to ask his questions. It didn’t matter. An officer walked into the scene, trying to solve a murder of some kind, and he only saw a dark-haired beauty with green eyes.

He pulled out his phone and sent a single message: See you soon.

Derek Hale: See you.