#literally we had them yesterday and overnight they just disappeared!!!!!

[good-beans]

[beesfairlyland]

Hello babies!!!💗

Soo i wanted to update you guys about the tapes I've been listening to by @adambja. They've been an holy grail for my journey!!

Soo let's start with the I AM IN CONTROL TAPE(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

I couldn't listen to it regularly for a week but i listened as much as i could!

Day 1:- I listened to it for like 2 hrs sat in peace and focused on the affirmations. I felt good ...and tbh those audible affirmations make you feel already in control.

Day 2:- Listened for like 1.5 hrs. I felt good while listening but some doubts started to come on surface. But i comforted myself telling that these are just thoughts and i have to let them go now.

Day 3:- I tested out how much am i in control😏. When i sleep for late my aunts wake me up saying it's late. So in the morning when i woke up slightly. I just said they won't say me anything and I'll sleep for however long i can and guess whatt?? No one disturbed me at all and it was the first time😭 i didn't get disturbed! I listened for like an hour.

Day 4:- i Manifested some food that i was craving...first time i Manifested some food tbh😭 i started to gain soo much of confidence i swear im loving it and im in love with adamja!!😭💗

Day 5:- soo we were going to a party and our plan to go got cancelled. I was like no we'll go....I kid you not the very next second my brother came and told us to get ready🤭

I kept listening to the tape on and off till self concept tape came. I didn't listen to it with any intention tbh i just used it for fun with zero expectations. My confidence literally sky rocketed!!😭 I felt soo much in control. All of my intrusive thoughts literally started disappearing. Then came the self concept tape...it was just for three days but I swear the way it changed my thoughts i was shocked!

SELF CONCEPT tape review (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

I listened to it for 3 hrs for 3 days ... didn't listen it overnight coz im a light sleeper and can't sleep with something playing in the background. This tape is GOLD.

Day 1:- I had a mental breakdown the morning.... literally cried for hrs even tho in my head i was affirming im okay and everything's alright 💀my aunts fucking my head for like 2 3 days. And then came the tape and omgg the moment i started to listen to it.... first of all hearing those affirmations make you soo powerful and then the secret benefits she puts idk i felt soo much at peace and thoughts like "it's all just an illusion....this all doesn't even matter why to cry over it" started coming.

Day 2:- when i woke up i was soo much at peace even tho yesterday was shit for me. And i just decided i want peace. Haven't been this much peace in my house from past 2 3 yrs😭 and oh boy i felt soo detached from the 3d. I was soo happy.

Day 3:- i completely detached from the 3d. Nothing triggered me. And my circumstances don't even matter anymore. All of my desires felt soo natural and i completely detached from the void. I didn't even wavered not at all. Zero doubts. Im completely living in my 4d naturally I don't have to remind myself anymore about fulfilling myself...i a already in the state and i don't feel like doing anything to get my desires. And i just manifested my wifi working properly just by intention! And now ik I'll wake up in the void any time soon!😭 I don't even feel much excited now ... feels like it is a fact already. I've Never felt this much at peace ever!!

I swear guyss these tapes are soo good...god knows how powerful her paid tapes are😭 and ppl who say these are JUST TAPES....NOO THESE ARE SOME MFING HELLA POWERFUL TAPES!! She do have cheaper self concept and void tape too...go for it!! And if you can't then listen to the free tapess!!😭😭 Those are effective....aff.

And if you come at me saying im supporting those high priced tapes and advertising her tapes.

NOO I AM NOT ADVERTISING.... it's my experience try them out yourself and then say something and if she's pricing them that much ofcc it must be having some real powerful stuff(benefits) in it!! No one's forcing you too buy the tapes ....try the free ones!! And i am one of those person who never got any results from subliminals. Soo im soo happy i found these tapes!😭💗

And in the end i really really really wanna thank @adambja for providing us these tapes🫶🏻💗 you are soo kind!! i am soo grateful for having you as my mutual. And we appreciate you soo much for your hardwork. Don't let the hate and mean comments let you down. There are many ppl here who adore you soo much. We all are glad to be a part of the CULT(as haters say lol😭).

-love, bee💗✨

[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

[notchesandbullets]

Tangy Starfruit and White Sea Foam (Tiger!Todoroki x Reader)

Warnings: none, unless you count ridiculous amounts of fluff and shenanigans (oh and cursing). hints of BKDK and Kami x Jirou, pro-hero AU, aged-up!AU, Todoroki’s a tiger as a result of a quirk accident that happened on the job. Todoroki and reader are in a established relationship. Bakugou gets tied to a tree, Shinsou and Tsuyu are good friends, you and Todoroki may have a mishap on your hands in the near future. Featuring the rest of class A + Shinsou.

A/N: third and final piece for @ultimate-astridwriting​ ‘s hybrid collab!! i had an entirely different thing written out for tiger todoroki, it was 2.5k words full of angst bc real life is shitty atm but then bam, i got an idea while eating dinner and now here we are xD. get ready for sun and sand at the beach with a graduated class A!!

Words: 7k

Golden sun raised high in the sky scorched the earth below, turning the pristine white sand into scalding hot lava. But that didn’t hold back the group of 22 from surging forth.

Happy squeals that tumbled from the girls as they caught sight of the sparkling blue waves dancing on the horizon turned into wheezing laughs and yelps as the sand burned their bare feet.

Jirou whooped, a wide smile stretched across her face as she grabbed Yaoyorozu’s hand. “Last one in is a rotten egg!!”

“No fair, Kyoka-chan!!” Uraraka huffed as she pumped her short legs to go faster and catch up. 

Kaminari hollered obnoxiously, screaming all the way into the ocean as he tore right past you. 

“Do not run!!!!” Iida yelled, trying to make himself be heard above the clamor but to no avail.

You smiled at him sympathetically but he merely shook his head and followed after them to make sure none of his former classmates hurt themselves. 

They’re lucky to have you… You thought to yourself, clapping a hand over your mouth when the sound of him scolding Mina and Sero reached your ears from all the way across the deserted beach. 

You had found this isolated spot a long time ago, back when you lived on your own and had yet the privilege of calling anyone family. This was a place of comfort for you, a gem hidden away from the greedy eyes of the world looking to corrupt anything and everything that was pure. 

Here, you found solace. You found peace.

After you graduated from UA and everyone was giving each other teary goodbye hugs in the common floor filled with all the boxes of things they all had to move into moving trucks, you offered up one day. One day, if everyone wanted to come, you would show them a place very special to you.

The girls had a vague idea of where you guys were going based on the swimsuit dress code. In all honesty, maybe you should’ve made it a little harder for them, but they were your friends. And you were too excited. 

Here, on this beach hidden by dense foliage and sheer cliffs, your little piece of paradise remained a secret. Until now.

“Y/N, come on!!!” Hagakure shouted, waving excitedly for you to join them.

“In a minute!!” You yelled back, looking back to see if your boyfriend was following. “Shouto?”

You spun around in a full circle when you couldn’t find him, a frown twisting your features until Shoji came up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder.

“He’s coming.” He told you, jerking his chin back a few paces the way you guys came to signal where he last saw him.

You shot him a look of relief for his well-timed reassurance. “Thanks.”

Shoji dipped his head, hoisting the basket slung over his shoulder higher as he motioned for Tokoyami to pass you. “No problem.” 

A skeptical Tokoyami followed the gentle giant, muttering under his breath why the use of quirks had to be banned for today. Koda waved to you shyly and you smiled.

Iida had made it a rule for the day that no quirks were allowed to be used unless in case of an emergency. This was to do damage control and hopefully prevent a fight between Bakugou and literally anyone else. 

No one had any arguments. They were all here to relax, not think about their work life. All villains and life outside of this paradise was put on hold until tomorrow came.

You decided to wait until Todoroki caught up with you, and since everyone had raced on ahead, eager to soak up as much sun as they could on the one off day they were all able to get off together, you leaned back against the rough rock and tilted your head up to the sky.

Sighing wistfully, your eyes fluttered shut as the sun’s blazing afternoon rays warmed your body.

You knew what showing them this place meant, and you knew that your friends were fully aware of it. It had been something so special to you for so long that you sharing it with them meant that you trusted them a great deal. 

They were honored.

As rising pro-heroes in the world, they were constantly swamped with malicious villains, endless paperwork, press conferences and training the next generation. There was no time for rest.

But your former classmates were insistent that time be taken out for that purpose amidst all the craziness, especially Bakugou. 

Down time was important. It was necessary. Or else you all would burnout and then none of you would be any good to save anybody. 

This is why you chose this place. 

It was secluded enough where there was no paparazzi, no cameras, no exposure and no one was the wiser. Here, you guys could be as loud and as free as you wanted because there was no one around to threaten that fragile bubble of happiness. 

Heaving the bulging bag full of food and other amenities that you had swiped from Yaoyorozu as soon as you guys arrived higher on your shoulder, you wiped the bead of sweat from your forehead as it started to drip down your face.

“Shouto, c’mon!!” You encouraged aimlessly, since you didn’t know where he was. “Don’t you want to join the others?”

A faint rustle came from the bush a yard away from you and then it stilled. “No.”

You fought back a smile at the curt reply. You could almost envision that pout on his lips. Cheeky boy.

“Shouto~” You sang, fishing out a piece of his favorite food and waving it in the air, knowing that he could smell it. “I have a present for you…”

A beat of silence passed, and then two fluffy ears, one white and one red, poked out from the brush.

You suppressed a smile, knowing that would only make him leave in a huff and then his stubbornness wouldn’t let him come out and joy you for another hour. You couldn’t do that, he would miss all the fun!!

Waving it a bit more so that the enticing scent of the delectable food encouraged him out of his hiding place, you opted to hold your ground. “C’mon, Shouto. I promise, no tricks.”

His facial expression didn’t change but his ears perked up a bit and you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you. He was adorable.

Todoroki’s face fell the second he heard you laugh. “You’re laughing at me.”

You stopped immediately and straightened up, shaking your head. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He pushed back, crossing his arms over his chest as he stepped out of the bush with stray leaves clinging to his fur and branches sticking out of his head. Plopping down on the dirt, he puffed out his cheeks.

Your eyes softened and you set down the heavy bag, keeping your form relaxed as you tuned out the splashing and shrieks of laughter coming from the ocean.

“I’m sorry I laughed.” You apologized sincerely, never once breaking eye contact with your boyfriend. “I just thought you were very cute.”

Todoroki snorted, a sound so unlike his normally stoic and guarded demeanor, burrowing his face into his arms resting atop of the knees tucked into his chest. “That’s not funny…”

Your smile saddened a fraction as a memory washed over you as though it just happened yesterday. 

Trouble had a habit of finding your beloved boyfriend and last week was no different. 

The villain he was fighting against had a particularly interesting quirk, since he could manifest certain traits of people into their animal counterpart based solely on their personalities. 

Todoroki wasn’t put off until someone pointed out that he must have rage like a tiger, making him internalize everything and now a good seven days later, he still had yet to come to terms with his appearance and strange habits involving a diet of primarily meat. 

Fuyumi had sobbed how grateful she was that you were willing to take care of her brother in your apartment until the effects of the quirk dissipated. He was arguing with his father a lot more than usual and the tension in the Todoroki home had skyrocketed.

You brushed it off, merely telling her it was the least that you could do. 

Your boyfriend had a tough time adjusting to his new normal. Things were hard for him to grab and he couldn’t cuddle you like he was used to. He liked walking on all fours since he found he could go a lot faster when he used all his appendages instead of only half. 

His quirk, however, had been giving him a particularly rough time and the finesse he had honed of over the years disappeared overnight.

To say that Todoroki was upset about it was an understatement. 

He would do nothing else but sit in his room for days when you brought him home with you, refusing to let you in unless you came with a peace offering. 

That always smoothed things enough for you to talk to him and you were hoping it wouldn’t fail you now.

Todoroki eyed the fish skeptically, tilting his head curiously when you offered it up to him once more. With the pace of a snail, he uncurled from his protective ball and padded forward slowly, raising his nose in the air to sniff.

“Hungry?” You asked sympathetically. 

Todoroki hesitated a second before nodding slowly. 

Your shoulders dropped and you knelt down, holding it out to him. “Here.”

His eyes lit up and his tail flicked back and forth, gaze darting to you instinctively as though to ask if it really was okay.

You bit back a smile but the corners of your eyes still crinkled and you inclined your head to give him the go ahead.

Before you could blink, the fish was swiped from your hand and as soon as your eyes focused, you burst out laughing.

There, Todoroki crouched on the ground, chomping on the tasty treat.

Wiping off the palm of your hands on your hiking shorts, you beamed down at him, offering out your hand for him to take. “Feel better now?”

“Maybe…” He mumbled quietly as he polished it off before reluctantly accepting the invitation.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love you or love to shower you with affection, it was just that he was used to doing all of that when he was fully a human, not a hybrid. 

It was weird.

He found himself clinging desperately to your old t-shirts when you left the home to go on patrol, waiting around for you to come back. He heard when your heartbeat would speed up whenever he was around and how your breath hitched when he leaned in to kiss you goodnight.

Ever since the start of your relationship, he had been the one to take care of you. And he liked it that way.

This dynamic was foreign to him. And he wasn’t sure if it was because he truly disliked you taking care of him, or if it was because of something else. 

Todoroki was broken out of his deep thoughts the instant you came to stand right next to Iida. 

Before he knew what he was doing, the edges of his mouth pulled back in a menacing snarl and he pounced.

The unsuspecting Iida landed hard on the white sands with an ‘oomph’.

“Todoroki-kun!! Please control yourself!!” Iida shouted, doing his best not to hurt him as the tiger hybrid clawed at him.

You gasped. “Shouto!! Oh my gosh, Iida, I’m so sorry!!”

Pulling him off of the other, you went rigid as your boyfriend whined in your ear. The sound was too low for anyone else to pick up on, but you heard it. 

“What’s wrong?” You whispered as Iida brushed off his swim shorts, thrusting his hand straight up into the air to stop Kaminari from drowning himself in an attempt to prove to Sero and Mina that he could hold his breath longer than they could.

Todoroki wrapped his arms around your waist, mouth pressed in a thin line as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

You allowed yourself to relax against him as he pawed feebly at your sides, getting as close to him as possible. 

With the increase in physical contact, the tension melted away from Todoroki’s broad form and you heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Awwwww~” You cooed teasingly, reaching behind you to pinch his cheek gently and tugging until his smile morphed into a scowl. “Who’s the big scary tiger?”

Todoroki swatted you away, scrambling back until he was free from your affectionate hold on him. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t control his protective instincts and it certainly wasn’t his fault for reacting the way that he did when he smelled Iida’s scent all over you. You were his.

Of course he was going to protect you.

Baring his teeth at the tease, he hissed, tiny fangs on display. 

You shouldn’t have found that as cute as you did.

Two more bodies shouldered their way past you and you grinned. 

“Took you two long enough.” You smirked, wrangling your boyfriend back when he struggled in the firm grip you had around his arms to prevent him from knocking another person over.

The power couple had a habit of falling behind their ranks while getting lost in their own world. It was disgustingly cute.

Bakugou rolled his eyes angrily and gnashed his teeth. “Now you’re counting, dumbass? You’re worse than the shitty nerd.”

Midoriya ignored that comment as he sidled past you warily, forest green eyes sympathetic once they fell on your significant other. “Todoroki-kun still hasn’t changed back yet?”

He had seen the news coverage on it when the incident happened. Luckily, he wasn’t physically harmed, just physically altered, but it didn’t look like it was going away anytime soon.

Planting your hands on your hips, you yelped as Todoroki ripped himself from your grasp to tear off after Shinsou and tackled him next when he got too close to you. “No, not yet.”

Spraying white sand everywhere with his hind legs, it was almost endearing how his head raised and heterochromic eyes blinked back at you as soon as your voice sounded, silently begging for permission. 

You followed his gaze to the ocean spray behind you and shook your head fondly, suppressing a smile as you jerked your head in Yaoyorozu’s direction. She would watch over him and make sure none of the other boys bullied him.

“Go on.” You encouraged softly, and that was all he needed.

While Bakugou set up the tent for him and his boyfriend so that Midoriya wouldn't get sunburnt, not that he would ever admit to doing it for that reason, your best friend eagerly asked for updates on all the latest changes.

Whipping out his hero notebook, his eyes shone with enthusiasm. “What has he been eating?! Does he prefer tuna or white cod? Oh, oh, oh, is there a difference in his quirk?! How does it impact his—” 

Midoriya’s endless and excited rambling was cut off by his fuming boyfriend as he smacked him over the head and he cried out in pain, clutching his head. “Wahhhhh, Kacchan!!!”

“Shut the hell up, Deku.” Bakugou snarled, stomping past him to throw a bottle of sunscreen at you. “Put this on, shitty woman.”

You grinned, already squeezing the tube to squirt some onto your hand and slathered it on your arms. “Aw, you do care.”

“Go die.” He hissed, turning on his heel so abruptly that he almost slipped.

You refrained from giggling as he furiously, yet meticulously, took out various food items from the picnic basket that he had brought with. No matter how much he claimed he didn’t care about any of you, actions sure spoke louder than words. 

Class A had graduated from UA all together and each and every one of you had secured a spot as a sidekick for many top pro-heroes all around the country. Before a year had even passed, all 22 of you had made a name for yourself, so much so that you were all almost as famous as the pros.

Midoriya was the first one to start his own agency, no surprise there. But what was a surprise was Bakugou following right after to build one right next to his.

The general public suspected it was because that area where their agencies were was riddled with violent crime, but you knew better. You all did, really.

How could anyone miss the lingering gazes filled with adoration and passion?

“Y/N, come on!!” Shinsou hollered, ducking under Shoji’s arm to sprint back towards you. “You’re missing all the fun!!”

“Be right there!!” You shouted back, rearranging the tablecloth on the ground so that it would lay flat.

You still needed to grab the bag you left at the foot of the cliffs because it was getting too heavy for you to carry. But you chanced a glance up and the glimpse of your friends had a wide smile breaking out on your face. 

Todoroki was splashing in the shallows, completely soaking his fur. Jirou and Hagakure shrieked as Mina chased the two of them around, sparking an impromptu game of tag. Koda was in the middle of showing Tokoyami his seagull friend when Uraraka bumped into him. 

Tsuyu and Kirishima were beachcombing for shells a little bit away when Kaminari skidded to a halt in front of them with Yaoyorozu in tow.

Aoyama, Ojiro, Sato, Iida and Mineta were playing beach volleyball with the inflatable ball that the former class president had brought along with them. 

Dragging the beach bag behind you over to your spot that you set up far away from the shore so that when the tide came in, it wouldn’t wash everything away, you took out an array of towels, more sunblock, floaties, snacks, water bottles, coverups and a pair of sunglasses for Aoyama in case he forgot his again.

Standing up tall, you cupped your hands over your mouth and yelled, “Lunchtime!!!”

Several whoops and hollers pierced the salty air and you snorted when Midoriya almost tripped over his boyfriend’s outstretched feet in his haste to get there first. 

Amidst the clamor and friends swarming around you, you twisted around, looking for your tiger hybrid boyfriend. “Shouto—”

“I’m here.” 

You jumped as the low rumble sounded right by your ear, shivering unconsciously as his warm chest pressed up against your back. 

“Hey…” You murmured as he mashed the top of his head in between your shoulder blades before planting a soft kiss there. “Did you have fun?”

He nodded, resting his chin on your shoulder to look over it as everyone rearranged themselves in a large circle. 

You and Bakugou took care of the food prep while all your friends engorged themselves on the pre-made sandwiches and finger food.

“Oi, half-n-half bastard.” Bakugou growled, breaking the bubble of peace you two had with his temper that came out the longer your hands stayed motionless. “Stop bothering her, she’s not doing shit.”

Normally Bakugou’s crude language didn’t bother or upset Todoroki in any way, so you were shocked with a snarl echoed, washing over the group and effectively silencing them.

You squeaked as his arms tightened around you almost protectively and landed with an ‘oof’ as he pulled you to the ground.

“Shouto?!” You cried out incredulously as he unabashedly nuzzled his face into the hollow of your throat, setting his thick thighs on either side of you.

You rolled your eyes when Bakugou went rigid with anger. You could feel the heat emitting from your beloved’s glare as he locked stares with the pomeranian who was furious that the dumb extra thought he was flirting with you.

“That’s enough.” You scolded, though it was unclear who you were really talking to. 

Neither wavered.

“Icyhot, you dumb fuck.” Bakugou spat, never once breaking eye contact, even as the chatter picked up again. 

Todoroki snarled but the expression of rage contorted into meek sheepishness as you ran your fingers lightly through his hair, being mindful of his ears. 

Humming softly, you coaxed him back down to earth long enough for common sense to return to him. 

Todoroki bundled you up in his arms, tail swishing back and forth lazily as he held you. “Sorry.”

You shook your head at his apology, knowing he couldn’t fully control his impulses sometimes. “Not your fault.”

Bakugou snorted, smacking Kirishima in the face with a fish fillet when he asked to see what he was cooking. “Yes it fucking is.”

He just barely managed to dodge the shoe you launched at his head, straightening up with an enraged scowl etched on his features.

“OI!!!!”

You giggled, wiggling back to get comfortable against Todoroki’s chest. “You deserved it.”

“TAKE THAT SHIT BACK!!!!!” He thundered, smoke coming out of his ears.

“Kacchan!!” Midoriya cried out, wrestling back his boyfriend before his temper tantrum could reach the two of you. 

He begged Jirou or Kaminari to help him but the two of them simply flipped the bird to Bakugou, and he exploded. 

Literally. 

What happened next was a flurry of the class rep containing the situation and a spark of green lightning before it was over as quickly as it started. 

“I’m going to fucking kill all of you.” Bakugou seethed angrily, eye twitching from where his loving boyfriend had used One for All to pin him to the ground, tying him to the trunk of a nearby coconut tree until he calmed down.

“Ah…” Midoriya winced sheepishly as his glare turned on him. “K-Kacchan—”

Jirou’s loud slurping of the smoothie that Sato just made interrupted him and she regarded the fuming grown man disinterestedly. “Who’s up for a game?”

“Oh, oh, oh, meeeee!!!” Hagakure shouted, raising her hand high in the air alongside Uraraka and an intrigued Tsuyu. 

“MEEEEEE!!!!” Mina screamed, nearly blowing out Kaminari’s eardrums as he collapsed on top of his girlfriend.

Jirou pushed him off without hesitation, fighting back a smirk when he let out an overexaggerated whimper of pain, knowing full well that he wasn’t actually hurt.

Shoji stopped what he was doing to pay attention and even the usually shy Koda looked interested in her proposal on how to deal with the tied up pomeranian thrashing in place. 

Jirou raised an eyebrow slyly and everybody held their breath in anticipation.

One.

Two.

Three.

“PIN THE TAIL ON THE BAKUGOU!!!!!” Jirou screamed, holding up a sticky dart that they all regularly used for training.

How she managed to sneak equipment out of the agency she worked at was beyond you.

Jirou whooped, scrambling forward and held it up high. “I’m going first!!”

“Me next, Kyoka-chan!!!” Uraraka pleaded.

“Class A, this is highly inappropriate!!!!” Iida shouted, trying to curb the situation before it got out of hand.

Too late.

As the girls, save for Yaoyorozu, clustered gathered around a livid Bakugou, Tokoyami uncrossed his arms and pushed off of his post from where he had been keeping watch over the perimeter of the beach.

“I will join.”

You and Todoroki were both surprised, not expecting the normally reclusive individual to join in on the shenanigans. 

Your dropped jaw caught Tokoyami’s attention and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. 

“I find great satisfaction in tormenting the souls of the wicked.” He declared impassively and a light bulb went off in your head. 

“Ahhhhh,” You drew out with a grimace. “I get it.”

Back when you guys had lived in the dorms, Bakugou had made the fatal mistake of scaring Tokoyami during Halloween, making the latter let out an inhuman scream that traveled all the way across campus. Even though he had sworn to the moon and back that it was accidental, that there was no way he was actively participating in the game that Raccoon-Eyes and Flat Face had going on, Tokoyami never forgot it.

And now it was time for his revenge. 

Tokoyami caught the tomato that Sero threw his way and tossed it up in the air with the most menacing glare on his face as everyone advanced to the struggling pro-hero.

“Bakugou, you ready?!” Kirishima shouted excitedly, removing the gag from his best friend’s mouth.

“PISS OFF, SHITTY HAIR!!!!” Bakugou exploded once he was free, yanking at his restraints even though he had no chance of getting out of them. 

His boyfriend tied them.

Hagakure tapped Jirou’s shoulder warily. “You think we should’ve left it on?”

The other girl shrugged nonchalantly, unbothered by the rage rolling off of him in waves. “Eh, he would’ve found a way out of it eventually.”

Shinsou twirled a piece of Tsuyu’s hair that he was braiding, boredly looking on at all the chaos as they all pushed and pulled each other. He had asked Aizawa to teach him how back when he lived in the dormitory so that he could do it for Eri whenever she came over to visit. 

“Shinsou-chan, are you going to take a turn?” She asked curiously, staying still so that he could braid her long hair properly.

He shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “I don’t really see the point in it.”

“Kero,” She ribbeted thoughtfully. They were the only two not contributing to the shouting other than you and Todoroki. “I see.”

“Ehhhh?!?!” Kaminari exclaimed, losing his footing as he accidentally tripped over Kirishima’s foot and crashed into Shinsou.

Shooting him a sharp glare as all his hard work undid itself, Shinsou pushed himself off the ground, not sparing him a glance as he marched back over to the frog girl to fix it.

You giggled to yourself at Kaminari’s expression of mock hurt but pursued your lips quickly when his head snapped towards the sound. Pure smile dripping with innocence, your shoulders shook with laughter when he turned all the way around suspiciously, piercing gaze landing on his girlfriend as she doubled over with laughter at something Yaoyorozu said.

Bakugou thrashed helplessly against the coconut tree. “I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ KILL YOU, EARPHONES!!!!!”

But Jirou’s boisterous chortling was all that answered his threat.

You sank back against Todoroki, sighing blissfully despite the war raging on as they started the game, Bakugou protesting violently all the way. 

Angling your head up, your eyes squinted against the sun but you still smiled as soft fur brushed your cheek.

“Are you happy, Shouto?” You asked softly, quiet enough to not catch the attention of the others as they yelled for Midoriya to keep his boyfriend still.

He paused, choosing to play with the fringe of your shirt instead of responding right away. “Right now?”

Your smile dimmed a fraction, not expecting that answer. “... I suppose I meant just in general, but you could answer with whatever comes to mind…”

You trailed off, leaving the question itself open ended so that he could opt not to answer it if he didn’t feel comfortable.

Todoroki hesitated. “Where… Where is this coming from?”

Outright frowning now, you pushed off his knee so that you could sit across from him to see him better. 

“I was just wondering...” You said slowly, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice. 

Was he not happy? Why did he hesitate? Would he be happier with someone else? Did he not want to be with you anymore?

You shook your head at the insecure thoughts invading your head. That wasn’t right. He would’ve told you if he didn’t want to put work into this relationship anymore. You two had made that pact when you started dating, to break it off if one person no longer wanted it instead of stringing the other along and ended up hurting you both in the long run.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down from spiraling too far, you steadied your heart before opening your mouth again.

“I asked because I wanted to know.” You told him honestly, speaking from the heart. “Your happiness matters a lot to me, I always want you to be happy. That’s why I wanted to ask.”

Placing a hand on his knee, you smiled apologetically at him and the shenanigans from your friends faded into white noise as you tuned out everything else besides him. 

Your Shouto. The person you loved the most in this entire world. The one who had been with you through thick and thin and the one who swore he would never abandon you. 

He knew what those words meant to you. He had your heart.

And you had his. 

Todoroki’s heterochromic eyes softened a fraction and his ears and tail drooped as he realized that he had acted so defensively out of reflex.

“I—”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You reassured him swiftly, clearly. You knew what he was going to say. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Todoroki’s rapid heartbeat steadied at the loving conviction in your voice and a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in whooshed out of his lungs.

Reaching out, he laced his slim fingers with yours and tugged you closer to rest his forehead against yours. 

He closed his eyes and sighed. 

“I am happy.” He murmured quietly so that only you could hear him, emphasizing the soft declaration with a gentle squeeze of your hand. “I feel… the most when I am with you.”

Despite his words growing softer and softer, you still heard them and your heart leaped in your throat.

Swallowing thickly, you gave him a wobbly smile at his admission and fought to keep the tears at bay as you leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips, commending him for his bravery and vulnerability when it came to expressing his innermost thoughts. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to do.

“I’m glad.” You sighed, trying not to get too caught up in the moment so that your emotions didn’t run away from you. “And I’m honored you feel that way around me. I will continue to do my best to make you happy.”

This time, Todoroki was the one to frown, his nose twitching in displeasure. 

“You do not need to do anything.” He stated matter-of-factly, tilting his head in confusion. “It is your company, I believe, that makes me feel this way.”

That was an understatement. You elevated his heart and spirit in all the best possible ways. With your encouragement and kind nature, he felt like he had the strength to do anything. Including tough out this quirk incident that was causing a huge inconvenience in everybody’s lives.

Todoroki ducked his head and hid a smile, recalling to mind the time you blurted out in passionate fervor that it was not an inconvenience to anyone, let alone you, when he confessed thinking such to you. 

You really were too kind to him. He was going to make sure you were protected forever and always. 

Nudging your temple softly with his nose, Todoroki purred contentedly as your sweet scent washed over him like the summer breeze. 

“Starfruit and coconut?” He questioned curiously. 

Ever since his temporary transformation, he had been picking up more and more of what you smelled like, and he loved it. But this certain combination was brand new to him.

The tips of your ears burned red and you gnawed on your bottom lip shyly. “Y-Yeah… it’s a new lotion. I liked the scent.”

Todoroki hummed thoughtfully, another throaty purr emitting from his chest as waves lazily crashed upon the shore. His arms tightened around you in silent request and his ears perked up as you repositioned yourself so that your back was flush against his bare chest.

“It smells good.” He finally admitted, glancing down at you.

You shifted in his hold, stretching out your legs and crossing your ankles. “Yeah?”

Todoroki buried his nose into your soft hair and inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he thought about how lucky he was to have someone like you in his life. How much tragedy and hurt he had to go through, what he had to sacrifice almost to the point of giving up, when he met you.

You were his light, his partner, his everything.

Vibrant turquoise and cloudy grey hues softened imperceptibly as they gazed down at you, his tail coming around to wind around your thigh, clutching it almost possessively. 

“Yeah…” He whispered, allowing his eyes to finally slip shut as the sun got to him, exhaustion washing over him like a tidal wave. 

And you, you sat there in his embrace, ready for whatever this life threw at you next. Because in spite of the hardships, you knew that you could face it together. 

Playing with his fingers, you relaxed against him and wriggled more comfortably into his side. 

“Hey, Shouto,” You murmured under your breath, fully aware that he couldn’t hear you based on the even rise and fall of his chest. “When we get home…”

Hooded eyes darted to the bag you brought with you, honing in on the small cube outline bulging from the pouch on the side. The size of a ring box.

“I have something to ask you.”

Bonus: 

Everyone had worn themselves out. Night had fallen, the ambiance only broken by the occasional remark of the ocean spray as they made themselves known. 

Stars twinkled high in the sky and the group of 22 felt the most at ease that they had been since they assumed positions in society as top pro-heroes. 

Well, all except one.

Bakugou glowered at his boyfriend sitting a couple paces away from him. “Deku, I swear to fucking—”

“Kacchan, shh!!! I’ll never get this opportunity again!!!” Midoriya whisper-shouted at him, furiously scribbling in his hero notebook. 

He glanced up once in a while at your sleeping form draped against Todoroki’s white and red fur. 

He had turned into an actual tiger halfway through the night when everyone else had fallen asleep and Midoriya had no idea if it was because he felt at ease enough that he let go, or if this was another step in the quirk manifesting itself. Either way, it was incredibly interesting and he was jotting down everything he noticed.

Rolling his eyes when his fanboy of a boyfriend didn’t put down his pen, Bakugou tapped his foot impatiently. “Of course the fucking Number One Hero still is hung up over these shitty extras.”

Midoriya squealed excitedly despite the other’s discontented grumbling, clutching his notebook close to his heart. “Kacchan, it’s so cool though!!!”

Bakugou huffed, turning away but that was so he couldn’t see the pinking of his cheeks.

Alright, look, it wasn’t his damn fault the shitty nerd was so fucking cute when he got like this!!

Tugging at his restraints purposefully, Bakugou burned a hole in the back of Midoriya’s head when he refused to look his way.

“Oi, let me out of this shit.” He demanded hotly, trying to blast his way through, only to find out that the ropes were made of some kind of quirk-cancelling material.

Fuck.

“In a minute.” Midoriya babbled, waving him off as he scrambled closer to his slumbering friend to get a better look. “Todoroki-kun is so cool!!”

Bakugou’s eyebrows scrunched together at that and he frowned. “What the fuck, you shitty nerd?!”

Midoriya yelped as a red aura emitted from him. “Eep!!! K-Kacchan?!?!”

“IS THAT A CHALLENGE, DEKU?!?!?!?!”

“N-No, of course it’s not!!!” Midoriya replied desperately, waving his hands to ward him off and hopefully stop him from waking everybody else up.

That hope was diminished as quickly as it came as Bakugou roared. “WAKE THE FUCK UP, ICYHOT!!!!!” 

“I really rather not.” Came the dry reply, catching the both of them off guard.

Bakugou recovered quickly and his expression contorted into fury. “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!”

Midoriya approached him cautiously, hoping to placate him. “K-Kacchan, maybe we should—”

“HAH?!?!” His head whipped around towards him, wrists already chafed from how hard he was yanking against it. “YOU STILL THINK FUCKIN’ HALF-N-HALF IS BETTER THAN ME?!?!”

“I didn’t say that!!!” Midoriya cried out.

Bakugou leaned back against the trunk, vermilion eyes glinting dangerously. Every muscle in his body was coiled and ready to strike. “Get the fuck over here, damn nerd.”

Midoriya’s feet moved before he knew what he was doing until he came to a standstill directly in front of his boyfriend looking at him with an entirely different expression on his face. 

One of mild interest and pure determination.

Bakugou smirked. “I’m gonna make you eat your damn words, Deku.”

His eyes lit up at the implication and he ground his fist into the palm of his hand before untying the bonds. 

“Bring it on, Kacchan.”

.

.

.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU TWO DO?!?!” You shrieked, horrified at the sight that greeted you in the morning. 

The two of them were covered head to toe in bruises and scrapes, and absolutely soaked. 

Iida was the most upset. “NO QUIRKS WERE ALLOWED ON THIS VACATION!!!!”

Bakugou stuffed his hands in his pockets and scoffed. “Vacation’s over, Emergency Exit.”

“THAT IS NO LONGER AN APPROPRIATE NICKNAME!!!!” Iida corrected and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I can’t believe this.” You mumbled to yourself exasperatedly. “You guys actually sparred all night?!?!”

“L/N-san, it was awesome!!!” Midoriya rambled enthusiastically, the glow in his eyes never faltering even as Iida continued to chew out a bored Bakugou. “Kacchan was so cool!!!”

You sputtered. “This was supposed to be a vacation!!!”

“It was!!” Midoriya insisted with a determined pout and you shook your head.

“You don’t understand the concept of a vacation, hospital boy.”

“Hey!!”

Tokoyami nodded, satisfied as Iida punished Bakugou with a week’s worth of chores despite the fact that none of them lived together anymore. “Vengeance is served.” 

“Anyone got any food?” Hagakure chirped while Mina whined in the corner about how hungry she was.

Kaminari was already rifling through the beach bag you brought with you, fishing out every single piece of food you had left. 

You looked on fondly at them as they handled the food emergency themselves. You were lucky to have friends like these. Ones that could goof off whenever and be as silly as you were, as well as be there when it counted. 

Todoroki tapped you on the shoulder with the tip of his tail, offering up a bagel he had managed to snag before everyone else emptied out the reserves. “Hungry?”

You shot him a thankful look, breaking it in half to share with him before munching on your piece happily. “Very.”

The two of you basked in the momentary peace the sunrise brought as Bakugou argued against Iida that he wasn’t even the one to start the brawl, even though it fell on deaf ears.

You bit back a smile as Todoroki’s tail looped around your waist, pulling you into his side and you laughed lightly. “Is this your way of telling me you want to cuddle some more before we have to go back?”

“Maybe.” He mused, gaze filled with adoration and humor as he fixated his eyes on you.

Todoroki blinked slowly, dipping his head down to draw your head close to his. “Y/N?”

You tilted your face up at his inquiry. “Yes?”

The depth of love in your eyes was reflected in his heart.

“Later today, if you get a chance, stop by my agency.” He requested somewhat timidly and you raised an eyebrow in surprise at the odd desire.

“Yeah… okay, sure.” You affirmed with what you hoped to be a reassuring smile to put him at ease, even though you had no idea what this was all about.

Todoroki chuckled softly at your lost expression. You looked cute when you were trying to figure out what he was thinking. No chance though, you could think about this one all you wanted, you were never going to figure out where he was going with this. 

“There is something I would like to ask you.” He hinted with a mysterious smile, unlocking his grip around your waist to stroll over to Koda and help him pack up the picnic basket.

It took a second for you to process. And then another passed before you realized what he meant.

“W-Wait a minute— Shouto!!!!”

Ringing laughter was all that accompanied your cries and torrent of questions as you asked over and over again if he was insinuating what you thought he was.

In a moment of bravery, he threw you a wink. “You have to wait to find out, Y/N.”

“No fair!!!”

“Patience.”

“UH UH, YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE A GIRL HANGING LIKE THAT!!!!”

“I don’t see how it’s any different than what you pulled last night.”

“... I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Todoroki shrugged nonchalantly, aiding Iida and Yaoyorozu in packing up the rest of the supplies. “Okay.”

“TODOROKI SHOUTO, GET BACK HERE!!!!”

“Wait six hours, Y/N.”

“SIX HOURS?!?!?!”

Your wailing only made that grin on his face grow. “I could double it.”

You shut your mouth at that ominous threat. Like hell he was going to do that to you. 

Todoroki smiled triumphantly but it only lasted for a second when you glared at him.

“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Todoroki.” You proclaimed dramatically, stumbling back when Kaminari took that opportunity to plop a heavy basket in your arms to make you carry it.

Todoroki’s shoulders shook with laughter at your attempt to catch yourself. You were as clumsy as a newborn deer. “I learn from the best.”

Your eyes glittered with mischief and throwing down the basket, you sprinted over to somewhere behind the rocks, disappearing from sight.

But your voice still carried.

“BAKUGOU, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!!!!!”

[meltingheartsandcores]

Yoooo your new fic is so cool!! How will lwj react to finding out about his daughter?

So, when I wrote the story, I had no idea, hence why I ended it there. But I was thinking on how to answer this last night, and ended up writing an entire second chapter at like one am. And then editted it through my Bio lecture (which was not my best idea but it’s just a kahoot quiz rn so not that bad of idea) but also means it’s lightly editted at best, sorry.

Oh and for Daiyu’s characters, I’ve lost the file that initially had them, but I’m like 80% sure they were 黛玉 which should be Dark Jade if I’m not wrong.

Anyways, hope you enjoy the story, I’ve put this under a read more because it’s long, lol.

Lan Wangji was not happy when Lan Xichen revealed that they did not know where Wei Wuxian was. Nie Mingjue was not happy with Lan Wangji pouting, so Lan Xichen had to stop several attempts of just telling Lan Wangji the school they had picked the kids up at yesterday and the park.

Just because they found out about Daiyu that way, does not mean Wangji has to. In Lan Xichen’s opinion at least. Truly it was up to Wei Wuxian.

So, while Nie Mingjue was cooking breakfast, Lan Xichen texts Wei Wuxian a very simple;

Wangji is here. Would you like to see him?

The question feels a little ridiculous to ask, after all they had just cleared up a major misunderstanding, the only reason Lan Xichen was aware of that they broke up, why wouldn’t Wei Wuxian want to see Lan Wangji? Then again, it has been five years. While Wei Wuxian asked after Lan Wangji’s relationship status, he gave nothing of his own. Aside from the fact that he was living with Wen Qing.

Who, to Lan Xichen’s knowledge, Wei Wuxian hadn’t been all that close to before they had broken up. And considering he was told the Wens moved away from the city barely a week after Wei Wuxian left the Jiangs, there wasn’t much time for him to get so attached to move across the country with them.

So, while waiting for Wei Wuxian to text back, Lan Xichen did his best to distract Lan Wangji. Except, Lan Wangji was not having it.

“Xiongzhang,” Oh that tone was not good. “If Wei Ying does not wish to see me, just tell me.” Lan Wangji asks, sounding serious but looking, to Lan Xichen at least, like if he did as asked he would be breaking Lan Wangji’s heart.

“I’m sure Wei Wuxian wishes to see you. The problem is, is that this is now rather fresh for him. And there are some things he’s told me that make me concerned to just, point you in his vague direction.” Lan Xichen explains since, yes, it was odd for him to be restraining Lan Wangji. In their teenage years Lan Xichen all but pushed Lan Wangji to hang out with Wei Wuxian. And sometimes he did, actually physically push Lan Wangji to hang out with Wei Wuxian.

“He disappeared five years ago without a word.” Lan Wangji states, reminding himself of that oddity before asking, “What happened?”

And the conversation Lan Xichen did not want to have. “After he left the Jiang family, he came to the house to spend the night as he hadn’t expected to be kicked out so soon. You were out with me,” Lan Wangji nods, remembering the night he very much did not want to spend out of the house, “so Uncle answered the door. He told Wei Wuxian you wanted nothing to do with him, and to never contact the Lan family again.” Lan Xichen admits, wincing when Lan Wangji’s eyes go coldly furious. “Of course, this is only what Wei Wuxian has told me, I have not had the chance to hear what Uncle has to say on this.” Lan Xichen reminds, but it didn’t matter. Lan Wangji cared about what Wei Wuxian heard, not what their Uncle meant all those years ago. It does, at this point, seem more important. Even if Uncle hadn’t said so in so many words, it did result in Wei Wuxian disappearing for five years with Lan Wangji’s daughter.

“You should speak to him.” Lan Wangji states coldly, clearing meaning for Lan Xichen to get an explanation that does not result in Lan Wangji dropping contact with all of them and moving in with Wei Wuxian.

Lan Xichen’s not entirely sure that’s not going to happen anyways, considering Daiyu.

Thankfully, Lan Xichen’s phone goes off with an alert, and he’s relieved to see Wei Wuxian texted him back, and the message also relieves, a little.

What the fuck. How the fuck did he get here. I’m not kidding, the trains don’t run overnight here, it’s literally impossible for him to be here. What the fuck. Oh, but, send him to the Starbucks. There’s literally only one in the town so. I’ll meet him there at 10

The idea of going to Starbucks makes Lan Xichen want to send Wangji to the park, but he ignores it and instead repeats the place and time, and Lan Wangji immediately gets on his phone to get a cab to the city. Lan Xichen could offer to drive Lan Wangji himself, or even their car, but he wants some time with Nie Mingjue. And he wants their car at their place tomorrow morning, which if all goes well, Lan Wangji will not be returning to the cabin.

So he lets Lan Wangji leave in a cab.

--

Lan Wangji will admit his actions the previous night were illogical. And rude. First he hung up on his brother, then he ran out on his Uncle without a word (although considering what Lan Xichen told him, he doesn’t feel bad about it anymore) and paid a lot of money to be taken to the rather remote town Wei Wuxian had decided to live in. But now that he knows where Wei Wuxian was, how close he was, he was more than eager. He had been looking for Wei Wuxian for the past five years, never with any success. He had never been sure what had caused Wei Wuxian to leave without a word before, always thought to the weeks previous for anything he’d done. Now that he knows the truth...

He wishes he never agreed to go out with Lan Xichen that night.

But he cannot change the past. All he can do is cherish and love Wei Wuxian now.

Even if that means going to Starbucks.

Lan Wangji pays the cab and walks up to the Starbucks. He can’t help the face he makes, the places are always too loud for him, and it’s a show of excess that makes him twitch. Wei Wuxian always liked them, so he always made an effort to at least tolerate the places, but he couldn’t help the cringe.

Of course, the cringe drops from his face as he hears a familiar bark of laughter, snapping his head to the side to see Wei Wuxian. Looking the same as ever. No. Not the same. Older. More lines, more age, but no less beautiful. With a bling bright smile, “What’s with Lans and Starbucks?” Wei Wuxian asks laughing.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji whispers, before processing the question and answering, “You know our principles, do you not think it’s the opposite of everything we value?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, tilting his head to the side, “I guess. Counterpoint, their Frappuccino’s are delicious.”

“Excessive amounts of sugar.” Lan Wangji counters, feeling sixteen again and like lecturing Wei Wuxian on what those drinks will do to his health.

“Hey, some sugar is good. Besides, I don’t think I ever got you to try their Matcha Frapp.” Wei Wuxian says, grabbing Lan Wangji’s arm and dragging him into the Starbucks.

“Why.”

“Why not?” There was the smile again, bright and beautiful.

And Lan Wangji couldn’t argue. This Starbucks was quieter, than the ones Wei Wuxian would drag him to years ago, Wei Wuxian orders quickly for them both, and Lan Wangji did nothing but stare.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, what’s with the staring?” Wei Wuxian asks after noticing while waiting for their drinks, an amused smile gracing his lips.

Lan Wangji debates his answer, he could say many things, most would probably make Wei Wuxian blush, but in the end he decides on, “Worried Wei Ying will disappear again.”

Wei Wuxian huffs a laugh, “Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying shakes his head, and then his smile drops, which makes Lan Wangji furrow his brow, “So, how much did Lan Xichen tell you?”

“He told me you were here. And what Uncle said. Which was untrue.” Lan Wangji states, not sure what else there was to say. Perhaps how Wei Wuxian chose this place?

Wei Wuxian chuckles, “Yeah, Lan Xichen made that clear yesterday.” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose three times, clearly thinking about something, considering his next actions. Normally it would predate a prank, but Lan Wangji has the distinct feeling Wei Wuxian is not going to be pulling pranks right now. “So, he just said that?” Lan Wangji nods, becoming confused. “Let’s wait for our drinks.” Wei Wuxian decides, confusing Lan Wangji further, but all he does is nod. For now, he’s fine with Wei Wuxian setting the pace.

When they get their drinks and sit down, Lan Wangji eyes his green frapp with contention, only taking a sip when prompted by Wei Wuxian. It wasn’t, terrible. He still didn’t like it. But it was better than the other frapps Wei Wuxian has had him try over the years.

He still didn’t drink more beyond that sip.

Wei Wuxian sighs and sips at his drink a little, before setting it aside, “Well, I suppose I can’t do this the same way I did it with Lan Xichen and Dage.” Lan Wangji furrows his brow slightly, becoming confused once more. “Not unless you’re willing to wait five hours.” Lan Wangji shakes his head, he was not in the mood to be waiting today. Not for long. He’s finally seeing Wei Wuxian again. Wei Wuxian nods, “Didn’t think so. Uh, so. How to say this...”

“You say what you are thinking.” Lan Wangji states, almost on reflex, having said it to Wei Wuxian so many times when they were together, when Wei Wuxian was having trouble putting words to his thoughts.

“I’m thinking how to tell you I was pregnant without breaking your brain.” Wei Wuxian retorts, clearly on reflex, as he always would when Lan Wangji would make that remark. Normally it allowed for Lan Wangji to assist in phrasing, as while Wei Wuxian was better at conversational talking than Lan Wangji, he also typically just trailed off and made half sentences he expected the people around him to understand. While Lan Wangji would consider his words until he knew exactly what he was going to say. Making it easier sometimes, for Lan Wangji to assist.

This time however.

Lan Wangji blinks.

Once.

Pregnant.

Twice.

Pregnant

Thrice.

‘Wei Ying was pregnant when he left.’

Four times.

“And I broke you, shit.” Lan Wangji was not truly paying attention to Wei Wuxian, he should be. Now more than ever. But he can’t.

‘Wei Ying and I had a child.’

‘Wei Ying and I have a child’

No. Maybe not. Wei Wuxian could've- “Did you keep it?” Legally, Wei Wuxian wouldn't have been able to abort without Lan Wangji's permission. But then, legality has never been a concern to Wei Wuxian for all Lan Wangji has known him.

Wei Wuxian blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Uh, yeah. Her name is Daiyu, she’s four. Turning five. In a couple of months actually.”

“Daiyu.” Lan Wangji repeats, nodding, it’s a nice name. She’s four. “May I meet her?” Did Wei Wuxian want him in her life? Did he want Lan Wangji in his? Maybe he met someone else? Maybe what Uncle said stuck with him hard enough that he doesn’t want anything to do with Lan Wangji anymore.

“Well. She’s at school. Well, not school. Qing-jie said she could start next year if she really wants to, but four is too young.” Wei Wuxian shrugs, “I didn’t start school til I was nine so, I don’t really have an opinion. Or, I don’t get one.” That felt wrong. But Lan Wangji has not being helping Wei Wuxian, so, he also does not get an opinion. He thinks. “But there are these activities that go on at the school. From eight to eleven, and then from twelve to three. Technically she’s too young for those too, but the organizer is scared of Qing-jie, so, she’s allowed.” Wei Wuxian nods, “Our daughter is terrifyingly smart Lan Zhan. She might take over the world.”

“She will deserve it.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, “You cannot endorse your daughter taking over the world.”

“If she can do it, why shouldn’t she?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth moves, clearly intent on saying something but nothing comes out but a bark of laughter, “Holy shit. Wen Qing is never going to believe me being the sane parent. What the fuck.”

Ah, too much? He does have four years to make up for. Besides, why shouldn’t he support their daughters business ventures? Or would this be politics? Ah, it would be politics. In that case, “Not until she is at least fourteen.”

“...You’re so going to be the soft parent.” Was Wei Wuxian’s only comment. Then he checks his phone and stands up, “We should start walking over to the school. You can meet Daiyu, and we’ll see if she took our conversation last night to heart.”

Lan Wangji furrows his brow slightly at that, standing as well. Did, Did Daiyu not have a high opinion of him? No, of course she wouldn’t. No matter what Wei Wuxian said, he has been absent. Wei Wuxian chucks both their drinks, which seems like a horrible waste but Lan Wangji was not about to suggest he actually finish that drink, so he follows Wei Wuxian out without comment.

“Does she not like me?” Lan Wangji asks as Wei Wuxian leads them to the school.

Wei Wuxian hums, “It’s not that. It’s just, ok, for the past five years, it’s been the general belief that you essentially had your Uncle break up with me for you in like, the shittiest way. So, in general the Wens aren’t the Lans biggest fans. After Lan Xichen explained what actually happened, the adults are all coming around. Daiyu seemed to be also, but it might still take a while. I mean, yesterday she thought you wanted nothing to do with her.”

“Incorrect.” Lan Wangji would never not want anything to do with his child. He only wishes he had known about her sooner.

Wei Wuxian snorts, “Yeah, explained it to her last night. We shall see if she remains unconvinced.”

He hopes not. He would like to meet her. He would like to help raise her. He should move out here. “If Daiyu is amicable, how do you feel about me moving out here?” He should ask. It might be overstepping. They did break up five years ago, technically.

Wei Wuxian blinks, clearly surprised, “Ah, to spend time with Daiyu? I don’t know how your uncle would feel if you moved out here, maybe you could use the Nie’s cabin every few weeks, for visitation? That way you could still work, and meet people.”

Why would Lan Wangji want to meet people? He hates people. Wait. Lan Wangji considers the words, coming to the conclusion that it was a euphemism. But for- Oh. Ew. “No people. Only Wei Ying.”

Now Wei Wuxian was surprised and confused, and he chuckles awkwardly, “Lan Zhan, it’s been five years.”

“It’s only ever been Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji affirms, then, softer, “If Wei Ying no longer wishes for a relationship...” it would hurt, but he would get over it.

(He would not. He would spend his decades with the bunnies Wei Wuxian got him writing sappy love songs. As he’s been doing for five years. Although, in those decades, he might actually relent to Nie Huaisang’s plans of recording and selling those songs.)

Thankfully Wei Ying shakes his head, “Ah no! That’s not-” Wei Ying nods, and steals Lan Wangji’s wording, “Only Lan Zhan.”

It makes Lan Zhan smile softly, entirely entranced by Wei Wuxian, entirely in love with the man in front of him.

When they arrive at the school, there are children running about the front area on the grass. “Oh, they must’ve let out early. We still have ten minutes.” Wei Wuxian comments idly. Lan Wangji was curious as to what he planned for them to do for ten minutes, but that was moot now. Instead, Wei Wuxian was scanning the yard, presumably for Wei Daiyu. Eventually he seems to find her since he makes several ‘come over’ motions.

Soon enough a small child barrels into Wei Wuxian’s legs. “Oof. Nice to see you again too.” Wei Wuxian jokes, smiling down at their daughter.

Daiyu doesn’t look at Wei Wuxian, instead, still clinging to Wei Wuxian’s leg, she turns her head slightly to look at Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s breath catches in his throat, she had Wei Wuxian’s nose and chin. He crouches down to be on her level. “I am Lan Wangji, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Wei Daiyu.”

Wei Wuxian snorts, “You don’t need to be formal with your own daughter Lan Zhan. A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian puts a hand on Daiyu’s back, making the young girl look up at him, “this is your A-Die.”

Daiyu returns her gaze to Lan Wangji, “Why are you here now?”

“I was told where you were.” Lan Wangji states truthfully.

“How come you didn’t look for us?” Daiyu demands.

“I did.” Lan Wangji admits, making Wei Wuxian stop, blinking in shock, “But your A-Niang is very good at disappearing.”

Daiyu seemed to consider before nodding, accepting that answer, “Are you staying?”

“If you’ll let me. If you want me here, I will be here for you, for the rest of my life.” Lan Wangji promises.

Lan Wangji worries, for a moment, that they were the wrong words as tears well up in Daiyu’s eyes, but then she was in his arms, burying her face in his shirt, soaking it with tears and snot- not that Lan Wangji minded- telling him he was never allowed to leave. Lan Wangji wraps his arms around his daughter, holding her close with a soft smile on his face.

So, they were the right words.

Lan Wangji smiles up at Wei Wuxian, who seemed utterly relieved and happy, just smiling softly at the pair, Lan Wangji knows he still irrevocably in love with Wei Wuxian, and seeing him like this makes him confident that Wei Wuxian still loves him. With that, Lan Wangji knows with absolution, that he's moving out here.

Whether he tells anyone is still up for debate.

[gumnut-logic]

Sky Candy

Okay, this one is for ‘shits and giggles’ :D Literally. It grew out of a discussion with @onereyofstarlight​ this morning and I managed to both start and finish it today :D Just a bit of fun.

Spoilers & warnings: This is actually based in the Kermadec Universe created by my fic ‘We’ll Be Home For Christmas’, but it barely relates to that fic and it can be read without it. Maybe mild, mild spoilers for that fic. There is a tiny amount of Scott/OC ship in this, but it is minimal. Low level language, 4490 words.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​ for the inspiration, support and the read through. And also to @scribbles97​ for a read and encouragement.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

Living on an island in the middle of the ocean had Virgil fairly used to birds. There was a colony of Kermadec Petrels on Mateo that he liked to keep an eye on since apparently, they were ‘native and uncommon due to past ecological interference in the area’ and Mel had glared enough at his father to let it sink in…particularly when they were building their backup generator over there. The fact the little island had nearly been blown up by the Hood had given him nightmares for weeks. A firm discussion with Kayo and a change to the WASP protocol had been enacted since.

But so close.

There were the lone albatrosses that occasionally visited, their vast wingspan visible far above the island. Virgil had been known to just sit and watch them until they disappeared to the horizon or behind Tracy Peak. There was something so calming about them.

Of course, then there was the time a huge gull had taken up residence in the pool…while Gordon was in it. There was such a ruckus at that, even Virgil had been dragged out of bed. Alan had been eating breakfast when the bird landed and had caught a good chunk of it on film. One sodden, screeching aquanaut tangling with a much put out gull provided entertainment for Christmases to come.

But this? This was unprecedented.

Thunderbird Two had been left on her runway overnight due to a small fault in her module retrieval system. No module meant no wheels and a ticked off pilot. He had lowered number four to the tarmac at 2am and used a pod to push it into the hanger, but Two had to stay outside.

Gordon had not been happy and Four couldn’t deploy without help from Two at this point, but at least the craft had been safe inside overnight.

Two on the other hand…

Virgil crawled out of bed at 6am, drowned himself in coffee and stumbled out into the morning.

Fortunately, the weather was blue sky and the wind almost non-existent. The palms were still and the foliage on either side of the runway was just lighting up as the sun slowly crept over the horizon beyond the villa. It was all quite beautiful.

It was a relief. With the exception of last night, the last week had been full of nasty weather. Not enough to stop a Thunderbird launch, but dark, grey, windy, wet and depressing.

Virgil took a moment and let his shoulders drop and closed his eyes. Okay, he was overreacting. He was tired. Yesterday had been hell and the fault had appeared just as he was finally able to leave the last rescue site. It meant a crawl back to Tracy Island and Gordon stuck in the module and his ‘bird the entire way.

The vitriol over comms hadn’t helped.

If they had been near land, he would have paused to collect the aquanaut out of the module, but the rescue had been in the middle of the Pacific and it was pitch black and, god, he just wanted to go home.

The fact he was separated from his brother by a comline that could possibly be muted was a reassurance of his sanity.

Did he mute it?

No.

But the possibility was there. It really was.

It was over. He was home. The morning was beautiful and he should be able to fix the problem easily enough.

The petrels over on Mateo were squawking up a storm. A glance in that direction and, yes, the sea eagles were out looking for breakfast.

Living on the Island was a twenty-four-hour nature documentary sometimes. Without the editing.

Two was exactly where he left her, squatting on her struts. He took a moment to just stop and gaze at her. It wasn’t often he was able to see her outside without having to dash to or from an emergency.

She was lit up by the sun, her green hull glowing with its satin shimmer. Her big number two emblazoned and glowing on her tail. He was able to appreciate just how big she was and just how beautiful.

His heart swelled with a little pride and, if he was to admit it, blatant affection.

She was just perf-

He frowned. What the hell was that?

A white glow on her front windows where there should be no highlight with the sun this low on the horizon.

He took a step sideways, moving the angle of reflection.

You have got to be kidding me.

He didn’t have his uniform on, just his service harness, wrist remote over his flannel and an old pair of jeans. He was planning on using his onboard tool kit and killing two birds with one stone by checking the equipment at the same time.

He ran to the hatch, lowering it without thought and waiting impatiently for it to rise up into the cabin. The moment he could, he dashed forward to his pilot’s seat.

Across the forward windows was sprayed a large splat of white something.

Virgil’s brows cut a furrow into his forehead that almost cleaved his skull in half. If the white mess wasn’t so huge, he’d think a bird had eaten Grandma’s cooking and had a bad night. But it was massive. The streaks spread over several windows.

If Gordon had used paint on Virgil’s ‘bird as a prank, fratricide was a possibility.

Grabbing a safety line, Virgil hooked himself in and raised the hatch. Lips, pursed he climbed out onto Two’s hull and lowered himself down to her windows.

It was bird shit.

One massive bird shit.

It encompassed plexiglass and cahelium hull and was a spray of at least a couple of metres across.

How the hell? Anger was frozen as his brain attempted to account for how it got there.

It wasn’t there last night. Hell, if it was, there was no way he could have missed it. So, it had to have happened overnight.

The problem was, as far as he knew, there was nothing on Tracy Island big enough to do such a thing. Except maybe Gordon. Anything was possible with Gordon.

Gordon. Yeah, it had to be Gordon.

Climbing back into his ‘bird, he hunted down enough cleaning equipment to remove the mess.

Once it was cleaned up, he turned to the task he had come out there for and fixed the faulty retrieval hydraulics.

-o-o-o-

Virgil had mostly forgotten about the issue by lunchtime. Having his ‘bird out in the sunshine gave him the opportunity to air out her life support systems and do some general cleaning. He even got one of the bots to hose her down and climbed out and polished up her windows and external lights. For an hour or two he lost himself in the job, his mind wandering over yesterday’s events and processing as his hands worked on familiar surfaces.

Gordon wandered out onto the tarmac at one point to check on him. His fish brother may claim to be carefree, but if one of them wasn’t acting normally, he was known to chase them up or alternatively poke and prod if they weren’t responding in a Gordon-acceptable manner.

“Hey, Virg, whatcha doin’?”

It was yelled up as Virgil was hanging almost upside down above Two’s port wing polishing his third number two for the day.

“Cleaning.”

And yes, that was an arched eyebrow from his little brother. He couldn’t see it, but he could hear it. “You gonna wax and polish your entire ‘bird?”

“Just the important bits.”

“You do know we have bots for that.”

“Yes, Gordon.”

“Then wh-“ A wet splat interrupted his brother. “A-aaaargh!”

Virgil spun so fast, his safety line shifted and he found himself falling forward and off the edge of the wing.

Hanging in mid-air only gave him a better view.

Gordon stood on the tarmac, face absolutely disgusted, somewhat distraught and covered in white bird shit.

Virgil immediately looked to the sky, but from this angle half of it was obscured by the cliff face and the rest of it was blue, empty and glaringly full of sun.

“What the hell?!” Gordon stood like a frightened scarecrow, white uric acid in his hair, on his shirt and hands. His fingers flicked white all over the asphalt.

Virgil kept a wide berth as he rappelled down the side of his ‘bird.

“You okay?”

“Do I look okay?!”

Virgil bit his lip. “Well, you’ve looked better.” And if his phone camera was suddenly in his hand, it wasn’t like the fish wouldn’t do the same if he had the chance.

The expression of disgust on Gordon’s face was one for the record books. An accusatory glare at the phone, he spun on the spot, careful not to touch any part of his body with his filthy hands, darted between the ferns and clambered down the cliffside.

Virgil unclipped himself and ran after his brother, only catching sight of him as a pair of sand shoes flew up the cliff and landed on the asphalt. Gordon took a leaping dive into the lagoon.

Well, that was one way to get rid of it.

Virgil watched him purely for safety’s sake as his fish brother skimmed below the surface towards the deeper blue at the centre of the caldera. As always, Virgil marvelled at how fast Gordon could move underwater. Goofy above, powerful below.

And now madly trying to scrub the mess out of his hair. Words which Grandma would not approve bounced around the bay.

A figure in blue appeared at the edge of the villa cliff staring out at the splashing in the middle of the lagoon. That was an explanation waiting to happen. He was surprised there hadn’t been a squawk from comms already.

A glance at the empty sky and he returned to the question of what the hell would be capable of doing this.

Virgil was no orthinologist, but he did have a camera and an interest in the wildlife around him. They were in a rather privileged position just north of one of the world’s largest wildlife sanctuaries, and if his photos were of use to the scientific team on Raoul Island a few hundred kilometres south of them, well, it didn’t hurt to help where he could.

Mel, the leader of the team had him grabbing rough counts of the Kermadec petrels on Mateo every now and again, plus the sea eagles in the cliffs. With the tui in the forest and a number of other species, Virgil was pretty sure he had encountered just about every type of bird on the Island.

And none of them were big enough to make that mess.

Gordon was heading back and no doubt, the words were not going to be pleasant.

He was spitting chips before he even climbed out of the water.

“What the hell was that?!”

His soaking wet brother climbed the verge, hair sticking out in all directions, bare feet nimble despite the sharp rocks.

Virgil opened his mouth, but another voice interrupted. “What happened?”

Blue eyes, dark frown, Scott had already walked half the length of Two’s runway. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, Scott. Gordon just had an encounter with some bird poop.”

His big brother stopped walking. “You’re kidding. All that,” and he waved his hand towards the lagoon, “was for a little sky candy?”

“Candy?” Outrage was one word. Bedraggled was another. Gordon was shoving damp feet into his sand shoes and having a doozy of a time with it. “A bird shit on me, Scott. A pterodactyl sized bird. Possibly an elephant with wings.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “If it was an elephant with wings, you’d need a shovel.” Though at this point, he was willing to entertain the pterodactyl theory.

Another wary glance at the sky.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to get Two undercover.

-o-o-o-

The video captured by Virgil proved to be highly popular that night, particularly once it was thrown up on the main holoprojector. He knew he was risking dye in his shower rose, but it was a change from being the subject of joviality and it really was harmless. It was also a rare day when they hadn’t been called out, so everyone was relaxed and there was laughter which was sorely needed after yesterday.

There was less laughter the next morning when Scott walked out onto the main balcony at five in the morning and slipped on a wet patch.

The mug of coffee in his hand went flying, splashing boiling hot water on his shirt as he fell, and it was only years of sparring with Kayo that saved him from cracking his head on the hardwood.

As it was, by the time a worried Gordon dragged Virgil out of bed, there were a number of nasty bruises sprouting on his big brother.

“Well, you are staying home today.”

“Virgil, c’mon. I just fell over.”

Wrapping the scald on Scott’s hand, Virgil shook his head. “Nope, you slipped. On a non-slip balcony, by the way. What were you doing out there in the dark?”

“It wasn’t dark.”

“The sun wasn’t up and you didn’t see what you stepped in.”

“Giant bird poop isn’t usually a problem, Virgil.”

No, it wasn’t. The sight of the white splash on the hardwood, large enough to overcome the non-slip surface was like a taunt.

Virgil cleaned up his big brother while listening to Gordon whine about the shit in his hair that apparently hadn’t washed out, ocean or three showers later. After that, he dropped a line to Mel on Raoul and asked her if she knew of any local birds that could do that much poop in one evacuation.

Apart from the snort of laughter from the blonde ecologist, the answer was only ‘maybe an albatross’. Apparently, that was the biggest bird in the Kermadecs.

He sent her the video in thanks.

The howling laughter that followed was worth it. He couldn’t help but grin at the sound of Sam in the background.

Oh, yes, Gordon was going down.

Virgil spent the rest of the afternoon securing everything he owned and rigging some protective security.

Gordon would likely get him anyway, but no need to make it easy.

Scott, of course, refused to acknowledge the burn or the bruises and went about his usual activities. If strangling him wasn’t counterproductive to his preferred outcome, Virgil may have considered it.

“I’m fine, Virgil.” The bandaged hand waved in his direction begged to differ.

The sun was setting and Scott had been at their father’s desk for most of the day. At least they hadn’t been called out.

“There’s someone on the runway!”

Virgil jumped as Alan tore up the kitchen stairs.

“What?”

Young blue eyes were earnest and not a little worried. “There is someone on the runway!”

Scott’s response was immediate, swiping aside paperwork and bring up the Island’s security network. Views of the runway, now almost in darkness flickered past, all empty of life, until a screen came up blank.

“Camera Five is transmitting, but there is no image.”

Scott thumbed his comms. “Kayo, we have a possible intruder on Two’s runway and a camera down. Could you please check it out.”

Their sister’s efficient FAB bounced back over comms.

“I’m going with her. Gordon jumped off the couch where he had been lounging for most of the afternoon and threw himself into his launch chute.

“John, we have a possible intrusion and a blanked camera. Can you give us extra eyes on Two’s runway.”

Another efficient FAB bounced down from orbit and the transmission in Scott’s hands changed to the massive sensors employed by Thunderbird Five.

There was nothing on the runway.

Virgil stared at it. “Alan, what did you see?”

His little brother was standing beside him. “Movement. A head maybe. It was too big to be anything else.”

Kayo appeared on the display, followed by Gordon. They both sketched out a search pattern.

That ultimately proved unfruitful.

They did discover why one of the cameras wasn’t working properly.

“More bird shit.” Gordon’s disgust was a physical thing.

Virgil turned the unit over in a gloved hand. It was designed to withstand a cyclone, yet here it was coated in enough uric acid to simply block any light from entering it.

The thing was, this wasn’t the first time this camera had had an issue. The way it protruded out of the cliff made it a perfect perch and it had seen a few birds over the years. Consequently, it was maintained and checked regularly. It was fine yesterday.

Now it was not.

Coated in one big bird turd.

“You know whatever the hell this is, it obviously has a stomach issue.” Apparently, Gordon was on the verge of declaring whatever it was to be his personal nemesis.

“We’ll need to work out a way to deter the birds from this camera.”

“Bird, Virg. One great big honkin’ bird.”

“That we have yet to see.”

“Well, we have cameras and sensors all over the island. Let’s use them.”

-o-o-o-

They were called out before they could do anything. China. A flood. Three days of drudgery and misery.

It was bad.

Bad enough for Grandma to shut them down for forty-eight hours after they finally made it home.

Virgil was limping with a twisted ankle and a cranky commander who had witnessed him making the jump responsible for the injury. It nearly ended up so much worse,

An aching ankle was worth the life of the two children he had in his arms at the time. He’d be fine.

After fourteen hours curled up in bed, he crawled downstairs and hunted down his coffee. It was midmorning, but the house was quiet. The weather was still holding out and despite a long night’s sleep, he still felt exhausted. Hopefully coffee and breakfast would help.

Sun would be nice. He grabbed a bagel, limped out onto the pool deck and found himself a lounger.

-o-o-o-

Coffee or no, he must have fallen asleep, because he woke to a whisper on comms.

“Virgil, stay still.”

“Wha-?” He mumbled and rolled over, blinking against the sunlight.

And came face to face with an alien.

What the f-?

Dopey brain, adrenalin, and he was floundering backwards, landing hard on the concrete. The lounge flipped over and collapsed on him.

A massive pair of black and white wings spread and flapped, agitated. They backed off, but not without grabbing his neglected bagel first.

Virgil stared as his brain booted.

It was a pelican. A very large pelican.

The bagel was gulped down a huge pink beak.

“Virg! It’s a pelican!” Gordon sounded excited, his whisper over comms almost a shout.

“I can see that.” At least they now knew where all the poop had come from.

Virgil eased the lounger off his back as quietly as he could.

“Virgil, are you okay?” Scott, of course.

“Fine.”

“That is a very big pelican.”

Virgil resisted rolling his eyes...just. “I noticed.”

The bird was eyeing him. Virgil edged backwards a little only for the lounger to rattle behind him.

Those black wings spread again and Virgil froze.

Several feathers were missing from those wings and there was a small smear of red amongst the white on the bird’s right side.

Aw, hell. “Gordon, it’s injured.”

“Damn. How bad? I can’t see from here.”

Virgil looked up and found both Scott and Gordon on the balcony above watching him.

“I can’t tell. We will need to capture it.”

“Reckon you can grab it?”

Virgil eyed the bird. It was over a metre tall and had a beak to match. “Possibly.”

Any other thought on the matter was suddenly vetoed as a familiar hiss lightly disturbed the surface of the pool and Virgil found himself covered in netting.

Kayo and Shadow.

The pelican did not appreciate it and struggled, tangling itself.

Virgil held still and tempted to calm it with soothing noises. Then Scott was there, dragging him out from under the net. Gordon was gathering the huge bird, hands and words desperately trying to calm it.

Thumb on comms. “John, get me Mel. We need her help.”

-o-o-o-

“Well this is a first. An Australian Pelican all the way out here.” Mel stood watching the injured bird stalk about its cage. “You sure he didn’t hitch a ride on one of your Thunderbirds?”

Gordon snorted. “Virg tried to bring home a polar bear once.”

“That was not intentional.” Okay, so it was a sore point. Alan could have been seriously injured simply because Virgil hadn’t closed the module door.

“Well, you did.”

“Did not.”

“Alan would disagree.”

“I did not!”

A hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder, its partner landing on Gordon’s. “That’s enough. Mel, is he going to be okay?” Scott’s voice was authority deep.

The blonde ecologist tilted her head to one side and shrugged. “I’ve done what I can. I think so. He should still be able to fly, but there is no way he is making it back to the continent by himself. I’ve contacted Birdlife Australia. We’ll make an estimate of where he might have come from and take him home.” She smiled up at Scott. “I might need a lift.”

A lopsided smirk. “You’ve got one.”

Gordon rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Mel.” Virgil held out a hand.

She eyed him a moment and took it. “I see you’re the walking wounded again.”

His eyelids dropped into a flat glare. “Just a twisted ankle.”

She smirked at him. “Look after yourself.”

“Oh, for gods, sake, Mel, isn’t one of my brothers enough?” Gordon groaned.

The ecologist shrugged and Scott frowned. The moment Mel spotted the frown she burst into a grin. “Something wrong, Commander?”

Scott’s glare was flat enough to level the Island. “Not a thing.”

Mel’s grin just got wider. But she reached out and took his fingers in hers. Scott’s shoulders relaxed just a little.

She stroked the back of his hand. “Good.”

Both Virgil and Gordon rolled their eyes at that.

“I’m going for a swim.” Gordon skipped out of the room.

“I’m going to go finish my breakfast.”

Neither Scott or Mel noticed.

The pelican stared him down.

Virgil flicked his eyes towards the ceiling, turned and left.

-o-o-o-

Scott wanted to borrow Thunderbird Two for the delivery. Virgil offered but the Commander claimed he was injured. Virgil told him where he could shove that, listing off a burn and a maze of bruises from a few days earlier as far more injurious than a twisted ankle.

Scott resorted to whining after that.

The fact Scott actually whined like his littlest brother had the engineer staring at his big brother like he’d grown an extra nose.

“How old are you?”

“Virg, please.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You want to borrow my car to take out your date because your jalopy can’t do the job.”

That got a more familiar reaction. “It has to be Two to lessen the trauma to the pelican.”

“Fine, I’ll take him to Brisbane.”

“Virg!”

An arched eyebrow. Okay, he had to admit this was a little fun. “Something wrong?”

“Virgil! I could order it.”

“Sure, you could.” I dare you.

Blue glared at him fit to bust a vein. Virgil held those eyes calmly with his own, doing his best to hold back his grin.

Ultimately, he failed.

“Damnit, Virgil.”

A snort. “Fine. Bring her back in one piece. No aerobatics.”

His brother’s grin was worth it. Who ever thought Scott Tracy would be so eager to fly the family cargo carrier?

The pelican left Tracy Island along with Mel and his brother the next morning.

Virgil did not fail to notice that there was a night before that morning and Scott was positively chipper before he left.

The engineer stood out the front of the villa and took the opportunity to watch his bird lift off with a familiar roar and bank towards the south-west.

He couldn’t help but smile just a little more.

His brother was gone all day and it was no surprise. Virgil was not worried, despite Gordon ribbing him about it for a good part of the day.

The artist hid in his studio.

And painted a pelican.

Eventually, the familiar sound of his ‘bird returning to the Island drew him out and he met his brother on his way back from the hangars.

Scott was obviously preoccupied and didn’t see him approach.

“How did it go?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin. “Virgil! Give a guy warning next time.”

Virgil stared at him. “You okay?”

“What? Yeah, sure.” The commander pushed past him towards the lockers.

That didn’t sound right. Virgil turned and followed. “Did you have a good time?”

That had a better result. Scott straightened and grinned. “Definitely.” The man was obviously seeing pleasant memories in his mind’s eye.

“So, what’s wrong then?”

The grin vanished. “Er, nothing.” He unfastened and lifted his baldric up and over his head. He looked at anything other than Virgil.

“And you say I can’t lie.”

Eyes caught his. “You can’t. You’re crap at it, Virg, always have been.”

“Well, you’re failing big time today. What happened?”

His brother’s shoulders dropped. “I’ll help you clean her. I promise.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. Oh, god. “What did you do?” He turned and ran towards the hangers.

“Virgil! I’ll fix it. It was an accident.”

“What the hell did you do?!”

He burst into Two’s hangar only to be met by Gordon grinning like a loon. “Big Bro is in trouble.” The fish managed to sing that.

Virgil shoved him out of the way so he could see his ‘bird.”

His jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”

Scott stepped up beside him. “Honest, I didn’t know.”

Virgil held out his hands to his beautiful Thunderbird as if in supplication. One desperate word. “How?”

Scott sighed. “Local fishing fleet docked while she was parked on the beach. Apparently, it is an event that all the local birds gather for. Two unfortunately made a great perch.”

There was bird poop from one end of his girl to the other. She looked diseased. Her green hull mottled with white and brown.

“I’ll clean her. I promise.”

Pelicans. There were pelicans. Likely gulls as well.

“Virg? I will, I promise.”

Bird shit all over his ‘bird.

“Virg?”

“I think you broke him, bro.” Something waved in front of his eyes, interrupting his view of his girl. He swiped at it.

“Well, we have movement at least.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Virg?”

He turned on his big brother and shoved a finger in his face. “You are going to clean every single turd off my ‘bird.”

“Yes, Virgil.” Those blue eyes were very wide and Scott was leaning backwards.

“Good.” Virgil spun on his heel and stormed out.

Stupid birds.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

If you would like to see the possibilities of what can happen with these birds, please have a look here and here :D

[workofthediesel]

Like Starting Over

Read also on ao3!

Warnings: Major Character Injury, Graphic Depictions of Injury, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt

Summary: As far as everyone else was concerned, CB was nothing more than a heartless cheater. They had all loved the friendly and helpful caboose he pretended to be; no one liked the real him. And now that the secret was out, there was no going back. He was completely unwanted at the yard, and that’s how it was always going to stay. So why was he bothering to stick around a yard where he was universally hated? Wouldn’t it be easier to just… leave? To disappear while no one was watching and spare himself the pain?

Word Count: 21,706

The trainyard was quiet as CB finished another lap around the old, unused tracks. Of course it was, he mused, trying to rub the ache out of his wrist as he continued his listless pacing. He could hear in the distance the hubbub of trains returning to the yard after a long day’s work, but by the time it reached him, secluded way at the far edge of the yard, it was little more than a muted hum.

He wasn’t welcome there. He knew that for a fact. Ever since his little… stunt in the championship, since the crash that left him in constant pain that no one else seemed to understand, he’d been all alone. Not even Greaseball or Electra, his partners in crime, would deign to spend any time with him. Compared to him, the engines had made it out of the crash relatively unscathed. Sure, they hadn’t exactly received hero’s welcomes either, but Greaseball still had Dinah, and Electra had his components, and CB was left with no one.

It was fine, he told himself. He didn’t like any of the other trains anyway. He’d never needed them before, and he certainly didn’t need them now. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was alright, however, the yawning pit of loneliness he felt never went away.

Maybe it would have been easier if he hadn’t been suspended. The yard couldn’t function with only one engine, so Greaseball and Electra were back to work almost as soon as they had been repaired. But no one really needed a caboose anymore, so here he was: left behind, useless and unwanted. If he could still go out with the rest of the freight, he’d at least have something to do all day other than sit and stew in his own thoughts. He didn’t know why he even bothered getting up in the mornings—though half the time he didn’t, just stayed in bed until the night came, trying to convince himself tomorrow would be better.

It’d been so long since CB had heard wheels approaching him that it took him a second to recognize the sound. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Electra heading straight for him. He had a moment of panic, trying to figure out if he’d done anything to piss Electra off recently, but relaxed as the engine got closer. He didn’t look mad, just determined—though for what, CB had no idea.

He stopped his pacing, waiting where he was for Electra to come to him. He couldn’t think of any particular reason Electra might want to talk to him. Something big might have happened in the yard, he supposed—though if that was the case, no one had bothered to tell him.

Electra rolled to a stop in front of him, not wasting time with any pleasantries. “Are you busy?”

CB thought it was fairly obvious that he wasn’t. “I’ve been suspended,” he deadpanned, staring the engine straight in the eye.

Electra looked wrong-footed for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “Right. Well, good, because we need you for the race.”

“What race?”

“The rematch for the championship.”

That made sense, CB supposed. He knew Electra and Greaseball had been goading Rusty for a rematch for a while now, so the steamer must have finally said yes. But CB couldn’t figure out what that had to do with him. “Okay. And?”

“You’ll be racing with me.”

“What? No.” No way. Absolutely not. CB was done with racing. And even if he wasn’t, he wasn’t exactly in the best shape now. As nice as it felt to be asked—if “asked” was even the right word for what was happening here—he’d be no good for Electra.

“It’s already been decided,” Electra told him, though how it could have been decided without even asking CB was beyond him.

“Well, too bad, because I’m not doing it. Take one of your components.”

“Purse, Joule, and Volta are on an overnight run, Krupp doesn’t race, and Wrench needs to be available as a medic in case someone gets hurt.”

Of course Electra would have already asked his components. He should have known better than to think he’d actually be someone’s first choice. “Why can’t you take one of the coaches? Or Flat-Top, or one of the Rockys, or literally anyone else?”

Electra gave him a strict look. “I told you,” he said firmly, “it’s already been decided. We’re racing together, end of story.”

As much as he really didn’t want to race, CB just didn’t have the energy to keep fighting. He sighed heavily, shoulders slouching with the motion. “Now?”

Electra looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course not! My route today was much more taxing than Rusty’s or Greaseball’s; racing now wouldn’t be fair. That’s what we’re looking for this time: a fair race.”

CB rolled his eyes at Electra’s pointed glare. If he was still upset about CB crashing them at the championship, why partner with him for the race? Even if none of his components were available, any coach and at least half the freight would be over the moon to race with him. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he said, rather than bring that fact up. “Tomorrow, then. What time do I have to be there?”

“The race starts at eleven on the north-east track.”

“Fantastic,” he said flatly, not bothering to even try to put any emotion into it.

Electra stared at him for a moment, like he was studying him, and CB wondered what he saw. “Rest well,” he said eventually. “I need you on your best tomorrow.” With that, he turned on his heel and sped away.

CB watched him go, feeling tired already. He immediately regretted agreeing to race. He didn’t have the energy to deal with it, physical or otherwise. He sighed, massaging his wrist absently. Maybe he could get out of it tomorrow, he thought. And if he couldn’t… well, it was just one day. He’d survive.

Probably.

***

It hadn’t been a good night for CB. No matter what he tried, sleep just wasn’t coming, and he was left tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning. This wasn’t anything new, but for the first time in a long time he actually had something to do that day, and showing up for a race after getting no sleep was a recipe for disaster.

As he watched the sun rise through his window, he wondered if it was too late for him to back out. Electra would be pissed, but he could easily find a replacement partner. The race would go on just fine without him; in fact, he was sure everyone would agree that the race would be better if he didn’t show up.

The weak early-morning light grew steadily stronger, but CB made no move to get up. The race didn’t start for another few hours, and if he fell asleep right now, he could still get two and a half hours of sleep.

He had just closed his eyes again—although he doubted it would do any good—when he heard a knock at his door. In the minute he spent deciding whether he should answer it or just wait until whoever it was went away, the knocking turned into pounding. As he wondered who would be so insistent on seeing him—before nine in the morning, no less—they started shouting.

“CB!” Electra roared from outside, slamming his fist so hard against the door CB thought he might actually break it down.

CB almost didn’t get up, but the minutes ticked by and Electra kept shouting. He wondered how long he would keep at it before he just gave up, but didn’t want to risk racing with a thoroughly angered Electra. Heaving a heavy sigh, CB pushed himself out of bed. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered, though he could barely hear himself over the racket Electra was making.

When CB opened the door, Electra was standing there looking rather put out. The engine looked him down and up, raising an eyebrow at the fact that he had clearly just rolled out of bed. “What?” CB asked.

“You’re late,” Electra said, sounding as annoyed as he looked.

“I thought you said the race wasn’t until eleven.”

“It’s not. You’re late for warm ups.”

CB groaned, dropping his head to rest on the doorframe. “Seriously?”

“Don’t tell me you were planning on racing without warming up.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” He knew that he should, but the race itself sounded draining enough. The thought of adding more time onto that, more movement around more people who he knew didn’t like him, was torturous. “Can’t I just warm up here?”

Electra looked unamused. “No. We’re warming up at the track with everyone else. Go get ready.”

CB took a deep breath. “Electra, I don’t think I even want to race.”

Immediately, Electra’s face darkened. “What?” he said, his voice quiet and dangerous.

CB tried to think of a suitable lie, but his tired brain wasn’t coming up with anything. Without a better idea, he opted for the truth. “I’m not feeling well. Seriously. I didn’t get any sleep, and my arm hurts—I’d be a terrible partner. I know it’s last minute, but you’ll be able to find someone else to race with. I’m just gonna go back to bed.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Electra spat, curling his fingers around the collar of CB’s chest plate and pulling him in close. “We went over this yesterday: it’s been decided. My strategies have been planned for pulling you, not someone else. You agreed to this, and it’s far too late to back out now, so you’re racing with me whether you like it or not! Now get ready, you’ve already cost me enough time.”

Electra released him with a shove, and CB had to hold onto the doorframe to catch his balance. He tried to keep the hurt off his face, not wanting Electra to see his weakness. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference either way, though, because Electra had already turned away, beginning to do his stretches on CB’s doorstep.

CB sighed, feeling exhaustion pulling him down like an anchor. He knew Electra wouldn’t let him give into it, no matter how hard he tried, so he did as he was told and went back inside to get ready. He threw on his scarf and hat, not bothering to fix his hair or polish up like he normally would. He didn’t have the energy for it, and besides, he didn’t want to make Electra any angrier than he already was.

Electra didn’t say a word when he came back outside. He barely even glanced CB’s way before turning around, letting CB hitch on before starting off towards the race track.

As they got closer to the north-east track, CB could see a large group of trains milling about near the starting line. From this distance, he could just make out Greaseball doing lunges off to the side. Flat-Top and the Rockys were gathered loosely around him, and CB figured they’d be chatting about everyone’s odds in the race, but their conversation came to a dead stop once he and Electra drew near enough.

CB followed Electra into the crowd, feeling entirely unwelcome. Everyone they passed turned to stare at him, and quite a few of them glared, not that Electra seemed to notice. He held his head high as he rolled through the throng, only coming to a stop when he found Wrench waiting for him.

CB hung back as Electra started running through his warm up routine, talking strategy with Wrench. Whatever he was doing was a lot more involved than CB’s usual warm ups, and he didn’t feel like trying to keep up. Instead, he turned around to scan the crowd.

Right in the center, he could see Dinah, Pearl, and Rusty huddled together as they did their stretches. Ashley and Buffy were with them, laughing at something one of them had said. Dinah noticed him first, flashing him a smile and a small wave. He raised his hand to wave back, but stopped as the rest of the group turned to see who Dinah was looking at. None of them looked remotely happy to see him: Ashley was sending him the stink-eye, Rusty looked wary, and Pearl couldn’t quite hide her scowl.

CB dropped his arm and looked away. Any thoughts he might have had about joining Dinah while they warmed up were immediately scratched out. He wouldn’t force himself where he so clearly wasn’t wanted. Instead, he rolled off to the side, finding an empty area to warm up alone in. He could feel the eyes of the other trains on him as he worked through his stretches, but he didn’t dare look up at them. He already knew the sort of faces he’d find—either angry or disgusted—and he didn’t want to deal with any more of that than he absolutely had to.

The spot he had picked was still within earshot of Electra and Wrench, and he listened idly to the plans they were going over. From what he could gather, the race consisted of them starting on the north-east track, taking it halfway to the end of the line, then switching tracks to loop around and finish back at the yard. He consoled himself with the fact that at least that meant he could go home after all of this, rather than being stuck in an unfamiliar yard for the night. It would make dealing with the aftermath easier, too, especially if Electra didn’t win.

The rest of their conversation didn’t matter to him much—Electra could do whatever he felt was best, all CB had to do was just hold on—and he let their words wash over him. Between the meaningless background noise and familiar routine of the stretches, he must have zoned out. The next thing he knew, Electra was coming over to bring him to the starting line.

“Race time minus one minute. Race time minus one minute,” Control called over the speakers. Electra got into position on the track, and CB took his place behind him. He tested his grip on Electra’s couplers as the sirens started up, frowning slightly. It was never exactly comfortable holding on for a whole race, especially with an engine as fast as Electra, but he could already tell it was going to be particularly painful on his bad wrist. He’d just have to deal with it, he supposed, readying himself as Control worked his way through the count down.

“… four, three, two, one. Trains gone!” Control shouted, and Electra was off like a rocket.

CB hadn’t been prepared for such an intense start, and it wrenched his wrist as he tried to hold on. He couldn’t stifle his gasp of pain, but as soon as it left his mouth it was whisked away by the wind. Electra never even heard it.

CB scrambled to match the break-neck speed Electra had started them out at. It was a struggle, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long.

“I thought,” he shouted, “you were supposed to pace yourself at the beginning of a race!”

Electra shot him a look over his shoulder. “No one ever won a race by going slow, CB.”

“I can’t go this fast!”

“You don’t have to. You’re only here to be pulled.”

And that wouldn’t be a problem, CB thought, if he could handle being pulled. But if he wanted to actually make it to the end of the track in one piece, he needed to put as little strain on his bad wrist as possible.

He glanced at the others on the track. Electra, Greaseball, and Rusty were all keeping pace with each other. CB had expected one of them to pull ahead as an early leader, but so far, they were basically tied. It would make for an interesting race, and keep everyone on their toes, but unfortunately for CB, it meant that Electra wasn’t likely to slow down at all.

CB took a deep breath and tried to put on a brave face. It would be over soon enough, he reminded himself, but as he quickly began to tire out, leaving himself with no other option but to be pulled, the seconds seemed to stretch on for hours. For a moment, he considered trying to hang on one-handed, but as Electra took the first turn and CB was thrown almost dangerously off-balance, he knew it was a bad idea. CB bit his lip; he’d just have to tough it out.

The race dragged by for CB, each second worse than the last. He tried to pay attention to what was happening on the track—Greaseball pulled ahead, but Electra caught up, then Rusty fell behind, but caught up again a few minutes later—but it wasn’t working as a distraction. Pretty soon, the pain of being pulled was all he could think about. It wiped out any other thought, eating up his focus and blotting out the rest of the world. He couldn’t even focus on the track, leaving him caught off guard for every turn they made. As a racer, it was sloppy, and he could tell Electra was getting frustrated.

The pain in his wrist flared, radiating into his hand and turning his grasp weak and shaky. If they came into any tight corners with him like this, he would surely break loose. He knew this stretch of track. It wasn’t too far off from where Greaseball had disconnected Pearl in the championship. She’d been sent careening towards the edge of a cliff, and CB knew that if he didn’t hold on the same would happen to him. Somehow, that thought didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

He followed Electra through a right turn, putting on just enough break to keep them at a controlled speed. He would have preferred to go much slower, so there wouldn’t be as much of a strain on his bad wrist, but he knew doing so would just make Electra mad. Well, madder.

“What was that for?” the engine snapped over his shoulder as Greaseball took the lead.

“You can’t take turns that fast,” CB shouted back. “You’ll flip us over if you aren’t careful!”

Electra harrumphed and sped back up anyway.

CB groaned. If Electra wasn’t going to let him break, then holding on for the rest of the race was going to be impossible. In a futile attempt to alleviate some of his pain, he flexed his left hand. It didn’t do any good, but hopefully it would at least prevent his fingers from locking up.

Electra kept pushing the speed, going even faster than before. Whether it was to make up for what he considered lost time or to get back at CB for slowing him down in the first place, CB didn’t know. But CB couldn’t go that fast on his own, and letting himself be pulled was pushing the limits of what he could tolerate. He considered asking Electra to slow down a bit, just for a minute so he could collect himself, but he knew what the engine’s answer would be.

It was clear that Electra didn’t care about him. Nobody did. And why should they? In their eyes he was nothing more than a heartless cheater. They had all loved the friendly and helpful caboose he pretended to be; no one liked the real him. And now that the secret was out, there was no going back. He was completely unwanted at the yard, and that’s how it was always going to stay.

CB shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they’d been rooted firmly in place for a while now. It was true: no one liked him, no one was ever going to like him, so what was the point? Why was he bothering to stick around a yard where he was universally hated? Wouldn’t it be easier to just… leave? To disappear while no one was watching and spare himself the pain?

They were coming up on a sharp left now, and Electra showed no signs of slowing down. He was far too focused on winning to consider the safety of his racing partner. CB eyed the turn over Electra’s shoulder and thought. Thought about how badly his arm hurt. Thought about how badly his heart hurt. Thought about how quickly he’d go over the edge, how long he’d be in the air as he fell, how he’d be nothing more than a mangled pile of scrap once he hit the ground. How no one would even care.

Then Electra took the turn.

And CB let go.

***

Much to his satisfaction, Electra was the first one across the finish line. The other trains weren’t far behind him, and he puffed his chest out with pride at the knowledge that he had won. It had been a good race—and a fair one this time, too. He, Greaseball, and Rusty had been neck-in-neck for most of it, but the challenge made his victory all the sweeter.

He looked around at the group that had gathered at the finish line, expecting the crowd to be ready to congratulate him on his win, but found nothing but concern and confusion on every face. Electra frowned; this wasn’t at all the energy he was expecting to come back to. He was just about to ask the nearest car what was happening when Control came back over the speakers.

“Penalty, penalty! Electra unconnected! Victory defaults to the runner-up!”

“What?!” Electra roared. Unconnected?! He whipped around to find CB and demand answers, but the caboose car wasn’t behind him. Taken aback, he scanned the area, but CB was nowhere to be found.

Electra scowled. He should have known better than to expect a fair race. CB and Greaseball had been cheating for years. He thought they’d learned their lesson at the championship, but apparently not. A low growl escaped his throat as he plotted all the ways he would make CB pay for stealing his victory again.

He was still fuming when Rusty rolled up to him, looking worried. “Where’s CB?”

“How should I know?” Electra snapped back.

Pearl chimed in, hands on her hips like she was ready to tell the engine off, “Well, you were racing with him!”

“Hmph. If you’re so concerned, why don’t you ask Greaseball? I’m sure they worked out a meeting point when they made their little plan.”

“What plan?” Greaseball asked, coming over to the group when he heard his name being mentioned.

“Your plan to cheat. Again! Even though we agreed to a fair race this time!” Electra shouted, rounding on the diesel engine.

“Hey now, who said anything about cheating? It’s not my fault you lost your partner!”

“Lost?” Dinah echoed. “CB’s lost?” No one paid her any mind.

Electra scoffed. “As if. Are you really so insecure about losing that you’d run right back to your old tricks?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?!”

“Don’t fight!” Dinah pleaded, trying to pull Greaseball away. “Is he really missing?”

Dinah looked at Rusty helplessly, but all he could do was shrug. It was true, but he was reluctant to admit it.  Admitting it would make it real, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“Do you really not know where he got disconnected?” Pearl asked Electra. When the engine shook his head, her tone became tinged with anger. “How could you not notice that?!”

“Because he didn’t want me to notice! It was all a part of their little scheme, and—”

“Stop saying that!” Greaseball broke in. “I wasn’t involved in this!”

Electra shot him a glare. “If you would just admit it, we could have this whole thing sorted out in minutes.”

“I. Didn’t. Cheat!”

“None of that matters right now!” Rusty burst out. “We can find out what happened later, but we still don’t even know where he is!” He took a deep breath, trying to quell his mounting anxiety, before turning back towards the yard’s entrance. “I’m going to look for him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Pearl said, hitching on behind him. She turned to look over her shoulder at Electra, narrowing her eyes at the engine. “You better be coming, too.”

Electra looked affronted. “Why me?”

“Because you were racing with him! You’re the one who’s supposed to know where he is, so you’re going to help us find him.”

Electra rolled his eyes, but Dinah spoke up before he could answer. “We’re all going to look for him. Right, Greaseball?”

Greaseball looked as if he wanted to object, but at the look he received from Dinah he relented. “Yeah, sure. At least when we find him, he’ll be able to tell you that I had nothing to do with this.”

It didn’t make much of a difference to Rusty if the other engines came with them. All he wanted to do was go out and start looking, and the longer it took them to decide, the more antsy he felt. At the very least, he told himself, there would be less of a chance of missing something with a larger group.

By the time everything was settled, Rusty was itching to be off. He pushed himself down the track, planning to follow the race course in reverse. He knew Electra had had CB with him for at least the first half of the race; with any luck, they’d be able to find him quickly.

On their way out of the yard they passed Poppa, coming over to congratulate Rusty on a good race. But Rusty didn’t have time to talk, rolling right past Poppa, much to the older engine’s shock. “Hold up, Rusty! Where are you going?”

Rusty didn’t slow down. “We have to find CB!” he called over his shoulder.

“CB?” The next time Rusty looked back, Poppa had joined the group following behind him. “What happened to CB?!”

“He didn’t come back with Electra,” Pearl answered.

“And you don’t know where he is?” The question was directed at Electra.

“For the last time, no! The little cheat is probably out there celebrating making me lose.”

Rusty tried his best to tune the other engine out. Electra seemed certain that this whole thing was intentional, that CB was fine and would come back on his own, and as much as Rusty would have liked to believe that he couldn’t shake the dread that had settled deep in his chest.

The scenery on the side of the tracks was peaceful, but Rusty was in no mood to appreciate it as they sped through. He scanned the area, looking for any indication that CB might have rolled through, but couldn’t find anything. Reassuring himself that there were five other sets of eyes looking, he let his focus turn inward, searching his memory for answers. When had CB unhitched? He couldn’t remember any commotion on the track, and he’d thought CB was with Electra the whole time. If he hadn’t noticed CB breaking loose, what else had he missed? Could CB have gotten hurt? Could he have needed help during the race, and Rusty just didn’t see?

From over Rusty’s shoulder, Pearl cried, “There!” Shaken out of his thoughts, Rusty followed her pointing finger, spotting a speck of red on the edge of the cliff.

“No,” he muttered to himself, picking up speed. Fear gripped him like a vice, and all he could think was that CB was so close to the edge, and he wasn’t moving.

As they got closer to the spot CB must have been thrown from the track, the scene only got worse. The earth on the side of the track was churned up in a grisly path, leading to where CB had skidded to a halt at the cliffside. He was splayed out on his back, body folded in on itself in an unnatural position. The upper half of his body was dangling precariously over the edge. It looked like he was seconds away from slipping off entirely. Without even thinking about it, Rusty disconnected from Pearl, leaving her behind on safe ground as he dashed forward. He grabbed CB’s shoulder and heaved him away from the edge. The metal on CB’s arm gave way beneath his grip but he didn’t stop to worry about it; right now, he had to focus on getting CB out of danger of falling off. Any injuries he had would have to wait.

As soon as CB was away from the edge, Rusty’s mind scrambled to figure out what to do next. He’d never been trained in first response and was feeling horrifyingly out of his depth. But there was no one else there who knew any better than he did. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer that there was no one there who could help.

Before he could think of anything, Dinah came rushing over. She dropped to her knees at CB’s side and reached out towards him. Her hand hovered just above his cheek, like she was afraid to touch in case she made his injuries worse. The tears that had gathered in her eyes spilled over and her breath hitched, a tremble starting up in her hands.

Rusty knelt on CB’s other side, trying to make sense of his injuries. But there were just so many, and he looked so mangled Rusty didn’t know where to begin. Pearl came up behind him and laid a trembling hand on his back. “Is… is he…?”

Is he still alive? The question was eating away at Rusty, too. CB looked even worse than he did after his crash in the championship. His crumpled chest plate caved sickeningly inward, his left arm was crushed, and his legs were snapped and bent at alarming angles. His right shoulder had been violently wrenched from its socket, leaving his arm connected only by a few bare chords. Large chunks of metal had been ripped from all over his body, littering the cliff with scraps of red and exposing his internal mechanisms to the open air. And it didn’t look like he was breathing.

Terror seizing him, Rusty pressed his ear against CB’s chest plate. His breaths were still there, barely, but they were weak and wheezy. The rumble of his engine was faint and rattley, sputtering like it was going to give out at any second. Rusty’s breath caught in his throat as he pulled back, but he still managed to choke out the only think he could think to do: “We need to get him to Wrench.”

Pearl looked up at him, distress clear in her eyes. “Is it even safe to move him?”

Rusty glanced at Dinah, who was trying and failing to stifle her sobs, and bit his lip. He tried to think of a gentle way to voice what he was thinking—that it didn’t matter if it was safe because they didn’t have enough time, that CB could be gone by the time someone left and came back with Wrench—but couldn’t come up with anything. The look he shared with Pearl managed to convey everything he couldn’t say.

Pearl took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. Someone’s going to have to carry him.”

“Let me,” Electra said, taking a step forward. His usual commanding tone of voice was gone; instead, he sounded almost desperate.

In the panic of the search, Rusty had forgotten Electra had come with them. He looked back at the other engine—Electra’s face was ashen, and there was a tremble in his outstretched hand, but try as he might Rusty couldn’t feel anything for him other than simmering rage. It had been Electra’s responsibility to keep CB safe while they raced, and look what he had let happen.

Oblivious to Rusty’s anger, Electra continued, “I can get him back in half the time it took to get here.”

“Hold on, now,” Greaseball butt in. “Why should you be the one to take him? Everyone knows I’m the strongest.”

“We don’t need strength,” Electra fought back, “we need speed.”

“And? I could get him back just as quick as you could.”

“I’m obviously the fastest. I finished first!”

“Only because you weren’t pulling any weight!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Poppa shouted, stunning the engines into silence. “It doesn’t matter who’s faster, but we need to get him back and we need to get him back now!”

“I’ll take him,” Rusty said, already getting to his feet. He ignored Greaseball’s sputtered “You?!”, making sure he had good balance before crouching back down and carefully gathering CB into his arms. The weight was heavy and awkward, but Rusty knew he could manage. He’d have to.

“Really, Rusty, I can—” Electra started, reaching out for CB again, but Rusty resolutely ignored him.

Rusty readjusted his grip, trying to make sure CB would be jostled as little as possible on the way back. The other trains parted to make way for him as he carried CB carefully back to the track. “Pearl, can you go with Poppa? I don’t think I’ll be able to take you both.”

Pearl nodded, and that was all Rusty needed. Without another word, he set off down the track. He couldn’t go as fast as he felt he needed to—after the exertion of the race and the rush of the search, he was starting to feel tired out. Still, he pushed himself as much as he was able, the desperate thoughts of Save CB screaming louder than the exhaustion.

He trusted the others to fall in line behind him, but he didn’t look back to check. If worst came to worst, they would all be able to get back on their own. The same couldn’t be said for CB. The most important thing now was making sure he was brought back to the yard as quickly as possible.

Rusty was so focused on CB that he almost didn’t notice Electra pulling up beside him. He spared a glance to the electric engine, only to make sure he wasn’t about to get in his way. Rusty didn’t want anything more to do with Electra at that moment, but it didn’t seem like the other engine was going to leave him alone.

Electra looked back and forth between Rusty and the group behind them. It took a moment before he spoke. “Poppa’s looking tired.”

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Rusty said, not even looking back.

He wanted that to be the end of the conversation, but unfortunately for him, Electra was persistent. “This is too much for an engine his age. Let me carry CB, then you can take Pearl and give Poppa a break.”

Electra was seriously getting on his nerves, but Rusty grit his teeth and stamped down hard on his anger. “Poppa’s fine with Pearl, and I’m fine with CB. We’re not that far from the yard; we can all manage the rest of the way.”

“But you don’t have to manage,” Electra pressed. “It would be easier for me.”

“Electra—"

“It won’t be a problem for me to take him, and you know I can get back much faster.”

Rusty had had enough. “Then go ahead and warn Wrench that we’re coming!” he snapped. “Tell her to be ready, because we’ll have to act fast.”

On any other day, Electra wouldn’t take being ordered around like that, especially not by Rusty. But now, he pressed his lips together tightly and sped ahead at top speed. It was clear that he was worried, and Rusty almost felt bad for being so short with him. Almost.

No one else spoke for the rest of the trip back. As much as Rusty preferred the quiet usually, the silence now only added to the tension that felt like it was trying to choke him. When he finally caught sight of the yard in the distance, he almost cried with relief.

He had expected to find the yard in chaos when they got back—finding CB like that had shaken him to the core, and he couldn’t imagine a place being calm while his world was in turmoil. But the only thing out of the ordinary was Wrench waiting for them at the yard’s entrance, field repair kit slung over her shoulder, and Dustin just behind her, ready to help any way he could.

As soon as she spotted their group, Wrench came forward to meet them. Her face was focused and emotionless, exuding an air of detached professionalism, but as she looked over CB, still cradled in Rusty’s arms, Rusty could see worry creep into her eyes and the pinch of her brow. She pursed her lips, pressing her hands on CB’s neck and feeling down his sides. Whatever she found clearly didn’t please her, and she whipped a stethoscope out of her repair kit. She placed the end on CB’s ruined chest plate, listening for something Rusty didn’t know.

Finally, after a few more excruciating seconds of silence, she looked up and met Rusty’s anxious gaze. “Bring him to the repair room,” she said, turning on her heel and leading the way.

Rusty rushed to follow her, Pearl and Dinah hot on his heels. None of them said anything, but he could hear Dinah’s quiet sobs start back up. Later, he was sure, someone would comfort her. Right now, he had to focus on CB.

Wrench was already inside when they reached the repair room. Dustin was holding the door open for them. There was only one bed there, and Rusty went straight for it, laying CB down on it as gently as he could. He looked so small and helpless, laying there in little more than a crumpled wreck. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he blinked hard to clear them away.

Before he could even register any movement, Wrench was at his side, pushing him out of the way as she looked over CB on the bed. “Good. Now go.”

“Go?” Rusty echoed. Logically, he knew that he’d be leaving CB with Wrench once they got back—Wrench was the only one who could help him, and she worked alone—but now that the time had come to do so, it felt wrong.

“Leave. I need to work.”

“But—” Dinah protested, only to be immediately cut off.

“No buts,” Wrench said, brooking no arguments. “Everybody out.”

The orders made sense, but Rusty couldn’t move. He felt frozen in place, unable to leave CB after everything that had happened. After a long moment Pearl grabbed his arm, tugging him gently towards the door. Off to the side, Dustin was leading Dinah out in the same manner. Still, Rusty couldn’t tear his eyes away from CB laying helplessly on the bed. The last thing he saw was Wrench leaning over CB, bolt cutters in hand, before the door swung shut in their faces.

Outside, no one said a word.

Dinah stared at the door, pale and shaken. She wrapped her arms around herself, making no move to wipe away the tear tracks drying on her face. The deep breaths she was taking to calm herself down from hysterics didn’t seem to be doing much.

Pearl came up beside her, gently putting an arm around Dinah’s shoulders. “He’s in good hands,” she said softly, pulling Dinah in close for a hug. “He’ll be alright.”

Dinah nodded absently. It didn’t seem like the words had much meaning to her, but she let herself be led away without complaint. Even as she left, she never looked away from the door, as if taking her eyes off it for a second would lead to the worst outcome for her friend.

Rusty couldn’t fault her logic, because he was doing the same thing. He knew that there wasn’t anything more he could do, but it still didn’t feel like he’d done enough. Electra had been within his sights for nearly the whole race—how hadn’t he realized that CB wasn’t with him? How hadn’t he seen the signs? He should have noticed CB on the edge of that cliff. He should have brought him back sooner. If he hadn’t been so focused on proving himself again—

“She’s right, you know.”

“Huh?” Abruptly shaken out of his spiraling thoughts, Rusty turned to figure out who had spoken to him. Dustin was at his side, watching him carefully.

“Pearl,” Dustin clarified. “She’s right. Wrench is going to take care of him, Rusty. He’ll be okay.”

Rusty drew in a long, slow breath. “I know,” he said, but just because he knew Wrench would be doing everything she could to save him didn’t mean Rusty wasn’t still worried. There were still so many things that could go wrong, so much that not even Wrench could fix, and Rusty was terrified of all of them. His eyes gravitated back to the door, and he tried not to think about what could be going on behind it. “I just… can’t help feeling like there’s something more I could have done.”

“You did everything you could.”

Rusty gave Dustin a humorless smile. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“You found him,” Dustin reassured him. “You brought him back. You probably saved his life.”

Rusty’s thoughts were still racing, but he didn’t dare speak any of them out loud. Instead, he took another deep breath and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, repeating the words in his head, trying to believe them.

Dustin was watching him like he could tell Rusty didn’t mean it. Thankfully, he didn’t push the matter. “Why don’t we at least go sit down for a bit? You look pretty worn out.”

Rusty glanced down at his hands. They were shaking, though whether that was from emotion or exhaustion he didn’t know. The adrenaline was ebbing away now that there wasn’t anything more he could do, and he was starting to feel the toll of the afternoon.

“Yeah,” Rusty said, because Dustin seemed to be waiting for a reply, “that sounds like a good idea.”

Dustin gave him a small smile and took his arm to lead him away. Rusty gave one last glance to the repair room door, and then they were gone.

***

CB awoke to an intense wave of pain. It swept up his arm, down his side, and through his legs, crackling on every nerve it hit like a jolt of electricity trapped beneath his skin. He wanted to scream, but it was as if his throat wasn’t working properly; the only sound that passed his lips was a pathetic groan, like the creaking of old metal that was about to give. He could feel dents and scrapes all over, places where his joints ground together and would undoubtedly be locked up if he tried to move them.

With much difficulty, he managed to pry his eyes open. His eyelids felt heavier than normal, and he couldn’t pull them open more than a sliver, but even the miniscule amount of light that passed by his lashes sent stabs of agony lancing through his skull.

When the headache abated enough for him to try to get a glimpse at his surroundings, he was mildly surprised to find himself inside what looked like one of the electrics’ sheds. It was clean, white, and bright, and not at all what he was expecting. He would have thought, if anything, that he’d be at the bottom of that cliff—or if he wasn’t dead, perhaps forgotten at the top. He tried to turn his head, to get a look at something that wasn’t the ceiling, but found his neck stiff and uncooperative.

There was a hand loosely wrapped around his in a small gesture of comfort. Somewhere off to his side, someone was humming a familiar melody. CB let his eyes slip closed as he listened. It was soothing, the gentle notes lulling him back towards sleep. It went on for a few minutes before the peaceful scene was broken.

“Come on, Dinah, we’ve been here for hours. If he’s gonna wake up, it’s not gonna be anytime soon. Let’s just go.”

“Greaseball! We can’t just leave him!” The hand in his tightened, and CB winced at the fresh wave of pain it sent shooting up his arm. “He’s really hurt.”

“He’s asleep. What difference will it make if we’re here or not?”

“Don’t say things like that,” Dinah chided. “If it was you, wouldn’t you want to know that you hadn’t been left alone, not even for a second? Wouldn’t you want someone there for you the whole time?”

Greaseball didn’t say anything in response, but CB could practically see his eyeroll. Without even opening his eyes, he knew what the scene around him looked like. Greaseball would be slouched in a chair on the far side of the room, arms crossed and legs splayed wide. Dinah would be pouting at him, obviously upset but not willing to back down, not on this. There was a tension in the air that left CB feeling uncomfortable, an unknown observer to their little spat. Finally, something gave.

“Can’t we wait a little longer?” Dinah pleaded. “At least until someone else can come sit with him?”

Greaseball huffed, but Dinah’s hand didn’t pull away so CB figured he’d agreed to stay. Unhappily, to be sure, but at least he didn’t seem in the mood to pick a fight. “And how long’s that gonna be?” he asked, but CB could hear in his voice that he was resigned to the wait.

Dinah rubbed her thumb along the back of CB’s hand, loving and gentle in contrast with her remonstrating tone of voice. “He’s your friend, Greaseball. Sitting with him is the least you could do.”

“I know, I know. I just…” he trailed off with a sigh. “I don’t want to be here, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear me say? Because I don’t, not with him like this. I mean, Starlight, Dinah, look at him! He looks—”

CB’s mind raced thinking up all the ways Greaseball could have ended the sentence. But the engine didn’t say anything else. Silence rang loud in the room, and for a long moment no one broke it.

“Hey,” Dinah said eventually. “Come here.” It was a soft call, like someone trying to coax a frightened child out of hiding. There was a hesitation in the air, then a quiet shuffle as Greaseball got up and came closer. A hand was laid on CB’s chest, larger and warmer than Dinah’s.

“You feel that?” Dinah said. “He’s still here. He’s just resting, and all we need to do is wait for him to wake up. He’s going to wake up, Greaseball. He’s going to be okay.”

Greaseball sniffed. “Yeah, sure,” he said thickly. CB kept waiting for him to take his hand away but he didn’t; he let it rest there, feeling the only signs of life CB was showing. In fact, he pushed his hand against CB’s chest a little harder, like he was desperate for every sensation he could pick up.

The minutes ticked by, and a small tremble built up in Greaseball’s fingers, but he still never pulled back. The only sound in the room was someone’s shaky breathing, quiet but still distressed.

“Wrench will probably be back in a few minutes,” Dinah said lowly, “if you still want to go.”

CB fell back asleep before he could hear a response.

***

The next time CB woke up, the pain was muffled. His body still ached, but the sharp, stabbing pains had been replaced with the pins-and-needles sensation of circulation returning to a limb that had fallen asleep. Not exactly comfortable, but much more manageable.

It was easier to open his eyes this time. The light was still far too bright, but it wasn’t unbearable. He blinked a few times, trying to clear away the spots floating in his vision. The room was silent this time, and there was no hand in his, so CB figured that Dinah must have left. But just because she wasn’t there didn’t mean that he was alone.

There was a speck of brown in the corner of CB’s eye. His vision was blurry, and his body was still uncooperative, but he managed to just barely tilt his head in its direction.

The movement caught the attention of whoever was sitting with him. “CB?”

That was Poppa’s voice. Not even a moment later, the engine leaned over him, bringing his face directly into CB’s line of sight and, as CB’s vision sharpened, there was no mistaking his features.

“CB!” Poppa exclaimed, and CB winced at the volume. Poppa’s face was ecstatic before it softened with relief. Thankfully his tone voice softened, too. “Thank Starlight you’re awake.”

“What are you doing here?” CB asked; or at least, he tried to. His voice petered out after the first syllable, leaving only a faint “Wha—?” drifting through the air.

“Now don’t strain yourself,” Poppa said, moving a little closer. “You’re in Wrench’s repair room. You took a nasty tumble, do you remember?”

CB made a noise that he supposed could be taken as an affirmative. He craned his neck, trying to take a look around the room, but couldn’t manage more than a few centimeters in any direction without the pain spiking. It wasn’t worth it, he decided, and settled for dropping his head back to look at Poppa. “Time ‘s it?” he asked, voice soft and shaky.

“It’s a little after two, Thursday afternoon.”

“Thursday?” That didn’t make sense to CB. After all, the race had been on Saturday. There was no way he’d slept for almost a week, was there?

Poppa fixed him with a serious look. “You gave us all a real fright, there,” he said. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time.”

What could CB say to that? “Mm.”

Silence settled between them for a minute before Poppa spoke up again. “CB, what happened? Do you remember?”

This wasn’t a conversation CB wanted to have, especially not now. “I crashed,” he said, trying to evade the true meaning of Poppa’s question. “Got thrown from the track.”

“Yes, but why? What happened?”

CB sighed. “Just couldn’t hold on anymore,” he said. It was true, just not in the way Poppa would take it.

“You should have told Electra. He would have stopped.” CB rolled his eyes, and Poppa’s tone became a little firmer. “He feels awful about what happened.”

Electra? Feel bad about what he did to someone else? “I’m sure.” Even through the weakness in his voice, the sarcasm was strong.

“Oh, I know he’s got a funny was of showing it,” Poppa agreed, “but he really does feel bad.”

CB wasn’t convinced. He thought about telling Poppa how he had asked Electra to slow down, how the engine hadn’t listened because he only cared about winning, but he was too tired to argue about it. “Okay,” he said, letting the subject drop.

Poppa didn’t seem like he was going to let it go. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say, CB didn’t want to hear it. “’m gonna go back to sleep.”

Immediately, Poppa was on a different track. “Stay up just a minute,” he said, heaving himself up out of his seat. “I need to tell Wrench you’re awake. She’ll want to look you over.”

CB scoffed. As if that was any incentive to stay awake. As soon as Poppa was out of the room, CB closed his eyes and tried to drift off. Despite the bone-deep exhaustion he felt, his old insomnia was hard to overcome. Hopefully if everyone at least thought he was asleep they’d leave him alone.

It wasn’t long before Poppa came back with Wrench. They were talking about him, but Poppa broke himself off with a disappointed “Oh,” when they came in. “I told him he needed to stay up for you, but…”

Wrench was undeterred, remaining as professional as ever. “How long was he awake for?”

“Only a couple of minutes. He said he was feeling tired, but after how long he’d just been out, I didn’t think he’d fall back asleep that fast.”

CB felt Wrench’s hands on him, probing along the areas she must have repaired. He tried to remain unresponsive, but couldn’t suppress the wince that arose when she reached his shoulder. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to elicit any suspicion.

“Anything else? Pain, confusion, trouble moving?”

“He didn’t say.”

Wrench hummed thoughtfully as she continued her examination. “It’s normal for a patient to be tired after undergoing such extensive repairs. He’ll be awake longer next time.”

Poppa clearly took the certainty of there being a next time as good news. “So he’s going to be alright, then?” he asked, voice full of optimism.

“The fact that he was conscious is a good sign, but we’ll have to wait and see if there will be any lasting damage.” Wrench finally pulled her hands away, and CB could hear the sound of her wheels turning as she rolled back towards the door. “Call me if he wakes up again,” she said. With that, she was gone.

CB heard the chair creak as Poppa settled back down. He sighed, and after a long moment he laid his hand gently on CB’s arm. “You hear that, son? You’re going to be just fine.”

Poppa pulled his hand away, but CB never heard him get up to leave. As the minutes ticked by, he sat in silence, just watching over the caboose. It was getting to the point where CB was getting uncomfortable with the attention, and he wished he could actually fall asleep to escape the situation.

Luckily, he had an unknown savior on the way. “Poppa?” Rusty’s voice called from the doorway.

“Hey, Rusty. Come on in,” Poppa said, and Rusty’s wheels squeaked as he came closer. “He’s asleep right now, you just missed him.”

“He woke up?” There was a hope in Rusty’s voice that CB wasn’t expecting. It tugged at something in his chest and he frowned, unable to make sense of it.

“Mmhmm. He wasn’t up for long, but Wrench said that’s to be expected. All those repairs must have left him exhausted.”

“I’m not surprised.” Rusty was quiet, like he was worried he might wake CB up if he spoke too loudly. It wasn’t a sentiment CB particularly understood, but with how much his head was hurting, he appreciated it nonetheless. “Did Wrench say anything else?”

“Not really. He fell back asleep before she could take a look at him, so we still don’t know a whole lot about how he’s really doing.”

“But he seemed alright?”

“Alright as can be expected, as far as I can tell.”

Rusty sighed, relief evident in his tone. “Good.”

His fingertips touched down gently on CB’s arm for a moment, and CB wondered what it was about being asleep that made everyone think that they could just touch him whenever they wanted. First Dinah and Greaseball, then Poppa, now Rusty; this was getting excessive. If the pull of sleep hadn’t been getting so strong, he would have said something. It would have roped him back into their conversation, but at least it would also get the touching to stop.

The two steamers were quiet for a moment before Poppa spoke again. “Did you want to sit with him for a bit?”

“I was planning on it,” Rusty said, sounding a little torn, “but if he woke up, I should probably go let everybody know.”

“I can take care of that.” Poppa said as he got up. “Here, sit. I’ll go spread the good news.”

Rusty chuckled as he was ushered into the chair. “Everyone will be so relieved.”

“I’ll tell you how it all goes,” Poppa promised, and CB heard his wheels turning as he rolled out of the room.

There was a moment of silence before Rusty leaned forward, taking CB’s hand in both of his. “You couldn’t have waited until I got here to wake up?” he whispered ruefully. CB could easily picture his sad little smile, but he couldn’t figure out why anyone—especially Rusty—would have wanted to see him awake. After everything that happened, why would he be happy that he was still here?

Nothing was making sense to CB, and he wanted it all to stop. He twitched his hand in Rusty’s, trying to make him to let go, but all that made Rusty do was run one hand along CB’s arm, rubbing soothingly.

After another moment, Rusty began whistling softly. It sounded like a lullaby, hauntingly familiar, like something out of a distant memory that he just couldn’t place.

CB wanted to be mad that Rusty was still touching him, that he was still sitting here without permission, but the melody was nice. It was calming, and he felt himself relaxing slowly despite himself.

Rusty kept whistling, kept up the gentle strokes on CB’s arm, and within minutes, CB was finally able to drift back to sleep.

***

Ever since he’d first woken up, CB rarely had a moment alone. There was usually someone sitting by his bed when he woke up, and more often than not there was someone with him when he fell asleep. Someone was always coming in for a visit or poking their head in for a minute to make sure he was okay. It was such a drastic change from how things had been before he crashed that it almost gave him whiplash.

Rusty, Dinah, and Poppa were his most frequent visitors, each of them coming to see him at least three times a week. Pearl came in sometimes with Rusty or Dinah, but never on her own. Flat-Top found his way in a few times, too, as did Dustin. Poppa had managed to round up the Rockys for a visit once or twice, and Dinah had done the same with the rest of the coaches.

Greaseball seemed very reluctant to see him. Dinah would often tell CB when she came in that she had invited Greaseball to come with her, but he never did. He always had some excuse ready: he was working, or he was working out, or he was tired from working or working out. CB tried to convince himself that it didn’t hurt. Once upon a time, Greaseball had been one of his closest friends. CB was willing to cheat for him in every race; it didn’t matter to him what he had to do, or how much it was going to hurt him, just as long as his friend got the victory his deserved. Now Greaseball wanted nothing to do with him. CB had known for a while that their days of friendship were through, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, if everyone else was coming in to make sure he was alright, Greaseball might come in too.

Although, he supposed, it wasn’t everyone who came to check on him. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the electrics since he woke up. Wrench was always there, of course, but that was because she had to take care of him. She never stopped to chat or check in with him on anything other than how he was recovering; CB knew that if there were anyone else qualified to take care of him, she’d be as elusive as the rest of her group.

CB was sick of being stuck in the repair room, but he consoled himself with the face that he was—albeit slowly—getting better. He was getting stronger, finally able to sit up on his own, and he had more energy every day. He was able to stay awake for most of his visits, now—when he wanted to, anyway. He was getting rapidly fed up with the careful tiptoeing everyone took part in when they were here, and even more so with all the questions he didn’t want to answer. Trapped in bed as he was, sleep was his only escape.

This morning was one of the few where there was no one there when he woke up. He barely had any time alone recently, so he tried to savor the peace while it lasted. He’d gotten so used to being on his own that the constant presence of other trains was exhausting.

Of course, just as he expected, it didn’t last long. Soon enough, the all too familiar sound of wheels approaching the repair room reached his ears. No one seemed to think they needed to knock anymore, so his visitor’s presence was only announced when Dinah poked her head in through the doorway, breaking out into a bright smile when she saw he was awake. “Good morning, CB!”

“Morning,” he said, not even trying to match her enthusiasm.

If Dinah minded his lack of energy, she didn’t say anything. She rolled into the room, as chipper as ever. Not far behind her were Buffy and, much to CB’s surprise, a very reluctant Greaseball.

As the group came over to the bed, CB only had eyes for the diesel. He looked extremely uncomfortable, and CB knew that there was no way he was here of his own volition. Dinah must have finally found a way to strong-arm him into coming.

Buffy took a seat in the empty chair by his bed, and Greaseball stood just off to the side. Dinah, the most comfortable there by far, hopped onto the foot of the bed, sitting next to CB’s legs. She gently rested a hand just below his knee, tracing soothing circles with her thumb. “You feeling any better today?”

Yesterday had been a bad day for CB, and of course Dinah had been there to see it. He’d gotten used to the constant pain in his wrist, but recently it’d been joined by more pain in his shoulder and lower back. Yesterday the pain had been particularly bad, so much so that CB had had a hard time focusing on what Dinah was saying. He’d tried to pretend it was nothing, but he had to admit the truth the sixth time he asked her to repeat something.

“Yeah, much,” CB said, even though it wasn’t quite true. The pain was still there, it was just more bearable.

She gave his leg a little squeeze. “Good!”

He looked over at Buffy, and she gave him a smile that felt a little forced. “Dinah’s been keeping us updated on how well you’re doing,” she told him.

CB wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that—there were lots of things Dinah had seen that he would have preferred they both forget. “I didn’t think there was that much to tell.”

“Oh, of course there is!” Dinah said, sounding a bit like a mother ready to brag about her kid. “You’ve been staying awake so much longer, and you can sit up on your own, and just the other day, Wrench was talking about having you try to walk soon!”

When she said it like that, it made him sound like a baby, CB thought. A twinge of embarrassment shot through him and he glanced over at Greaseball, almost fearing the expression he might find on his face. But the engine was staring resolutely at the floor, so CB could only guess at what he thought of all of this.

“Besides,” Dinah continued, “it’s only fair. You’re always getting stories about how everyone else is doing; it’s only right that they hear a few stories about you in return.”

The first part of that statement was true, at least. Dinah liked to tell him about everything he was missing out in the yard, right down to the tiniest thing. He probably knew more about what everyone was up to now than he ever had before.

“Speaking of,” CB said, wanting to change the topic of conversation, “what’s the news for today?”

“Hmm, let’s see...” Dinah trailed off, thinking it over. CB couldn’t imagine that a whole lot had happened since she left last night, but she always managed to come up with plenty to tell him every visit. “There’s a rumor going around that a new coach might be transferring to the yard. Have I told you about that yet?”

CB shook his head as Buffy chimed in, “Oh, yeah! I heard that, too. Ashley and I were talking about it just the other day; she doesn’t think it’s actually going to happen, but I don’t see why not.”

“I guess it’s possible,” Dinah agreed skeptically, “but it still hasn’t been that long since Electra and all them came in. Do you really think we’d get someone else in so soon?”

CB zoned out as Dinah and Buffy debated the probability of the transfer. It didn’t matter so much to him if they got a new coach in the yard, and he was fine with letting their voices fade into background noise. He figured the possibility of a new coach would be of interest to Greaseball, but the engine remained silent. Anytime CB glanced over at him, the engine was staring at the floor, or the ceiling, or out the door; it was obvious he didn’t want to be there.

Eventually, Dinah switched over to talking about other happenings in the yard: Poppa was threatening Rusty with a good scrub-down again, Ashley and Buffy were planning a picnic for later that afternoon, the electrics had received a huge shipment of something and everyone was taking bets on what it was.

“I’m telling you, it’s glitter,” Buffy insisted. “The whole thing. Just glitter.”

“There were, like, twelve boxes!” Dinah countered.

“Yeah, twelve boxes of glitter.”

Dinah still seemed skeptical. “That’s an awful lot.”

“Have you seen them? Have you seen how sparkly they are? Trust me, they’ll use it.”

“I don’t know, I still think it’s more likely that Wrench just got spare parts to restock the repair room. Don’t you think so, Greaseball?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.”

CB looked over at the diesel, but he wasn’t looking at any of them. He was staring at the far wall, obviously trying to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. Thinking back over the visit, CB realized Greaseball hadn’t even looked in his direction once since he’d been here, and CB knew why.

He’d seen his reflection. He knew what he looked like now. Wrench had worked miracles with the repairs—not only had she pulled him back from a wreck that should have killed him, she was certain he’d be able to work his way back up to top form eventually—but she was more worried about his functionality than his appearance.

There was an unsightly network of ridges left from all the welding Wrench had to do to put him back together, odd colored patches of metal where she had to replace the holes ripped from his plating with whatever she had on hand, dents in his shoulder plates that just couldn’t be worked out, and the paint job on the left side of his face was almost completely scratched off. He couldn’t stand to look at himself for more than a few seconds, why should he expect anyone else to do better?

It hurt. He knew he should have expected it, but it still cut deep. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or scream, but he did know that he wanted everyone to leave. And the best way he knew to accomplish that was to sleep.

He let out a yawn that was only half-fake and let his head loll against the pillow. By this point, he was an expert at pretending to fall asleep. In another two minutes, he could let his eyes slip closed, and then a few minutes after that, everyone would be gone.

All according to plan, Dinah picked up on his low energy. “You getting tired?” she asked in a motherly tone.

“Hmm? No, I’m okay. I’m listening.” He yawned again, doing an intentionally poor job of trying to hide it.

Dinah gave him a small smile, like she knew he’d be asleep in a matter of minutes. Good, CB thought, letting his eyelids droop as Dinah launched into another story about the going-ons in the yard that he was missing. She kept it animated, but he noticed that she was slowly decreasing her volume. He nodded his head once, twice, then closed his eyes and forced his body to relax into the mattress. He deepened his breathing, keeping it steady and even. This was the final stage of his act, and now all he had to do was wait for everyone to notice.

Dinah kept the story going for a few more minutes before cutting herself off. He felt her slide off the bed, and moments later the blanket was pulled up to his chest. She tucked him in gently, then ran a loving hand along the side of his face.

The room was quiet for a moment before Buffy spoke up. “He really wasn’t up for long.”

“He’s healing,” Dinah defended. “What did you expect?” There was a pause before she spoke again. “Greaseball, what’s with that face?”

Greaseball huffed. “You said he was getting better.”

“He is. It’s just going to take a while, that’s all.”

“Well, how long?”

“Oh, come on, Greaseball,” Buffy groaned.

“It was a really bad crash,” Dinah told him, her voice quiet but firm. “You can’t expect him to just be okay right away.” She sighed before continuing, “You really have to do better.”

“What do you mean, do better?”

“He’s your friend, Greaseball. Were you even trying at all?”

“What are you talking about? I came, didn’t I?”

"You barely said two words to him the entire time!”

“You said I had to come, so I came. You didn’t say anything about talking.”

CB bit back a groan. He had wanted everyone to leave, not start arguing. He tried to think of a way to get them to stop without revealing he was awake. Dinah was usually so courteous when he was pretending to be asleep, keeping everyone quiet so he wouldn’t be disturbed. Not having a better idea, he threw his head to the side and moaned quietly, shifting on the bed like something was bothering him while he slept.

Buffy noticed his discomfort immediately. “You guys,” she broke in, “shh.” In the silence that followed, CB could picture her gesturing to him, and he tossed his head back to the other side with a frown.

Dinah sighed softly. “Sorry,” she said, though CB didn’t know who she was apologizing to.

“Yeah, sorry,” Greaseball echoed.

The tension still hung in the air, and for a moment no one said anything. CB could only imagine what was going on between the three of them. It felt like he was missing something, but he couldn’t guess what it could be.

Greaseball was the one who broke the silence. “Listen, he’s asleep, so I’m just gonna go.”

“Greaseball…” Dinah sighed.

“Dinah, please.”

CB was shocked. He’d never heard Greaseball say please before, and he couldn’t figure out what warranted it now. Whatever it was, Dinah must have been able to see it, because he heard Greaseball roll away and she didn’t say a word.

There was silence for a moment before Buffy asked, “Are you gonna stay?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to, though.”

“I will if you want me to.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Go have fun.”

CB heard Buffy get up and start rolling towards the door. “You sure?” she asked, even though it seemed clear to him she was planning on leaving.

“Mmhmm,” Dinah hummed. “Tell Ashley I said hi.”

“Will do.”

Dinah sat down in the chair Buffy had just left and gently laid her hand on CB’s arm. She didn’t say another word, letting him sleep in peace.

He’d give it about half an hour, CB decided, then he would “wake up” and enjoy the rest of Dinah’s visit, just the two of them. He really did appreciate her company, not to mention how much time she’d dedicated to him while he was recovering. He didn’t want to repay her kindness by ignoring her the whole time she was here, not that he thought she’d really mind if he did. She’d been so patient and understanding so far that, sometimes, it made CB want to cry.

Dinah stroked his arm lightly, and CB promised himself that he wouldn’t keep her waiting too much longer. She’d been kinder to him than he really deserved; appreciating her visit seemed like the least he could do.

***

CB had come to dread seeing Wrench show up in the repair room. There were only two reasons she came: either to perform a routine check-up, making sure he was recovering alright, or to work him through another physical therapy session.

The sessions with Wrench were painful and frustrating, but unfortunately necessary. He couldn’t leave the repair room until he was able to at least move on his own, and it was clear that Wrench was getting tired of having him there. Their sessions were his least favorite part of the day, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to get out of the repair room just as much as Wrench wanted to see him go.

Still, it was only with great reluctance—and no small amount of swearing—that Wrench managed to haul him to his feet to have him work on moving again. It took him an embarrassingly long time to find his balance, even with leaning on Wrench for support. The only consolation he had was that no one else was there to see it.

By now, they had a regular position they took whenever CB was on his feet. His left arm went around Wrench’s shoulders, and Wrench kept a steadying hand on the small of his back. When they’d first started, CB had hated having to depend so completely on someone else, but they’d been at this long enough that he had gotten used to it.

His first few steps were shaky. They always were. The longer he spent on his feet, the more assured his steps would become, but it was always difficult starting out.

Today Wrench had the goal of him walking to the door of the repair room and back. CB was skeptical—the most he’d managed so far was only about half of that—but Wrench was determined, and he didn’t dare cross her.

A little after the half-way point, though, CB knew it would be impossible. By now, he’d come to learn what the sort of pain he could work through was, and this wasn’t it. If he had to make it all the way to the door, he’d surely collapse on the way back. As it was, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it back to the bed on his feet from here. “Wrench,” he panted, “I need to stop.”

Wrench shot him a look, clearly displeased. “You’re not done yet.”

“I can’t—I can’t do it.” CB shook his head. Even just standing still was too much. He was trying not to rest too much of his weight on Wrench, but his legs felt set to give out at any moment.

“You’re fine.” She took another step forward and tried to tug CB to match. He resisted, disrupting his already precarious balance and sending him tipping over towards her.

“I’m not—I can’t—” He took a shaky breath. “Please, can we just go back to the bed?” He felt pathetic, breathless and begging after not even ten minutes on his feet, but he really couldn’t do it anymore. Every muscle in his body was screaming in pain, and his legs were trembling under his weight.

Wrench stared deep into his eyes for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. Whatever she saw there must have reassured her that he wasn’t exaggerating, that he really couldn’t continue, because she relented with a sigh. “Alright,” she said, switching positions to help him turn around.

If CB had been capable of feeling anything other than complete exhaustion, he would have given her a grateful smile. As it was, he could barely manage to think, Thank Starlight, and keep on his feet as Wrench turned him back towards the bed.

They took the walk back at a much slower pace than the walk out. Wrench made sure to give him breaks when he needed them; she knew how much damage it would do if he pushed himself too hard in one of their sessions.

It was during one of these pauses, while CB was leaning heavily on Wrench and trying to catch his breath, that a sound from behind them caught Wrench’s attention. She looked back at the door over their shoulders and CB spared a glance her way, trying to guess by her reaction what was going on.

He was still clueless by the time Wrench spoke. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

CB’s stomach sank. Someone was here. He had specifically told Wrench that he didn’t want anyone there when he was doing his physical therapy and, going by the fact that no one else had ever come in during one of their sessions, that was something she enforced. But now someone was here, and the only trains in the yard CB could ever see ignoring Wrench’s orders would be the other electrics. With dread clawing its way up his throat, he turned to look over his shoulder at who it was.

Anyone coming to witness his indignity would have been bad enough for CB, but to make matters worse, it wasn’t just one train watching him from the doorway; it was three. Electra, Volta, and Krupp were standing there together, and CB froze like a deer in headlights. For a few seconds, no one made a sound.

It was Volta who spoke first. “Are we interrupting?”

Wrench shook her head and braced herself to take most of CB’s weight so he could take another step forward. “No,” she said, “we’re just finishing up for the day.”

CB turned his face away from the door, trying to hide his humiliation. Of all the days for Electra to come visit, he just had to pick the one where CB had to admit to himself he was too weak to even walk. He could feel Electra’s eyes on him as he struggled to push himself back to the bed, and his cheeks burned with mortification.

The group fell into silence once more, but CB couldn’t decide if that made the situation better or worse. He tried to steady his breathing so no one would hear him desperately gasp for air after walking just twenty-five feet. Wrench nudged him forward, and he managed to take a few more steps before his knees buckled beneath him. Wrench was caught off guard, but she still managed to catch him on the way down. It was a small blessing that she was able to handle his whole weight—he didn’t know what he would have done if he’d fallen on his face in front of the electrics. He squeezed his eyes shut to hide the tears that had sprung up, a mixture of pain and shame.

He heard wheels approaching and when he looked up, Volta was at his other side. Without a word she grabbed his free arm and slung it over her shoulder. Together, she and Wrench helped him get back on his feet. It was easier going with the two of them supporting him, but he still felt he couldn’t get back to the bed fast enough.

As soon as they were close enough, CB let go of Volta. He was embarrassed enough having to rely on Wrench for help, he didn’t need to add anyone else to the list. He pushed himself the last bit forward, gratefully collapsing onto the mattress. Wrench helped him swing his legs up as he scooted back to lean against the pillows. His whole body ached, and he knew he’d still be hurting come morning, but he was glad to let his muscles relax as he sank into the mattress.

Volta stood at the foot of the bed, watching him carefully as he got settled. She shared a look with Wrench, then addressed him, “How are you feeling?”

It was the first question everyone asked him, but he still wasn’t sure how to answer. “Fine, I guess,” he said, even though it wasn’t quite true. Honestly, he was tired and frustrated and in pain, but no one ever wanted to hear that. Wrench must have known he was lying—he always complained about being sore after their sessions, and by this point she had learned to expect it—but she didn’t say anything.

Another look passed between the components at his bedside before they shared it with the pair at the door. CB often got the feeling when he was around the electrics that there was some sort of unspoken communication going on between them. There was something meaningful in the way Krupp was looking at Wrench, some significance tied to how Electra was facing away, but CB couldn’t tell what any of it meant.

He sat up a bit, starting to get uncomfortable with being the only one left out of the conversation. He leaned forward, trying to catch Electra’s eye. “Are you coming in, or…?”

Electra looked as though he really didn’t want to be there, but Krupp gave him a push forward, sending him rolling into the room. For a second, a flash of terror crossed his features, but he quickly schooled his expression and straightened his back. He was putting on the air of his usual confidence, but CB thought he was falling short.

Electra came to a stop next to Volta, Krupp not far behind. CB was used to seeing the electrics stick together, but today they seemed to be huddled even closer than normal. They were acting strange, Electra in particular, but try as he might CB couldn’t think of a reason why.

Volta tilted her head towards CB, and Electra cleared his throat. “So, you’re doing well then?”

“Um, sure.”

“Good,” Electra said with a nod. For a moment it seemed like that was all he was going to say, but after a pointed look from Krupp he continued, “That was a… bad crash.”

Awkward was never a word CB would have used to describe Electra, but so far this visit was almost as painful as one of Wrench’s therapy sessions. “Yep,” CB said, not knowing how else to respond to that. “It was.”

Electra cringed, but Volta swooped in to salvage the conversation. “We’re very lucky to have a medic as skilled as Wrench here with us.”

“It’s true,” Krupp chimed in. “I got in a fight last year that messed up my shoulder real bad. Wrench fixed me up so well, it was like I’d never been hurt.”

Electra relaxed minutely. Even though he was still obviously uncomfortable there, he was always happy to talk about his components. “Yes. Of course, I only have the best on my team. To have anyone other than Wrench with us would be unacceptable; she truly is at the top of her field.”

Wrench smiled at the praise as she fussed with CB’s pillows, making sure he was properly propped up. CB wondered if she was planning on staying. She usually left when he had visitors—he suspected that her motivations for doing so were less to give them privacy and more because, with someone else there to look after him, she could take a break and have some time to herself—but he figured she might want to stay if it was the other electrics who came in. Electra would certainly appreciate it, if the way he was practically clinging to the other two was any indication.

Regardless of how much any of them may have wanted it, it wasn’t going to happen. Before anyone could say anything else, Volta turned to Wrench. “By the way,” she said, “Joule wanted to see you. She twisted her ankle, and she’s worried it’s sprained.”

“Again?” Wrench said, as if this was something that happened often. Volta nodded, and Wrench sighed. “I told her to stop doing those flips,” she said, crossing over to the other side of the room to grab her field repair kit.

Electra watched her as she left, looking almost panicked. Krupp laid a reassuring hand on his back, rubbing gently, although it didn’t seem to be doing much good. He let his hand rest there, turning to CB to say, “It was good to see you up and about.”

“It felt good.” If he ignored the intense pain and lingering soreness, anyway. He hated Wrench’s sessions with a passion, but he had to admit it was a relief to not be stuck in bed all the time. Wrench was even starting to talk about when he might be able to leave the repair room.

“I’m sure,” Volta said. “I imagine you must be getting rather fed up with bed rest, by now.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” CB said, shifting to lean more comfortably on the pillows. He couldn’t help the little grimace that broke out on his face as he moved his sore muscles. The electrics at his bedside were watching him like hawks, and he knew there was no way they had missed it. Thankfully, no one commented on it, though Electra as if it was physically paining him too.

“You looked like you were moving well,” Krupp said, trying to steer the conversation back onto a positive note.

Yeah, up until I nearly fell on my ass, CB thought. “Better than I have been, at least.”

Krupp gave him a small smile. “Good.”

CB forced a smile onto his own face in return. Electra’s nervous energy was rubbing off, and he was starting to feel like something about this visit was going wrong somehow. He sank back into the pillows, trying to think of what it could be, but couldn’t come up with anything.

Volta was watching him carefully. “You seem tired.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” CB said. It wasn’t anything new—he was tired all the time. Wrench said that was normal and that he’d have more energy as he recovered, but he’d been feeling tired since before his crash, so he wasn’t as sure of that as she was.

“We won’t keep you up, then. We just wanted to come in and see how you’re doing.”

CB stared at the trio. “All of you?”

Krupp nodded and nudged Electra’s shoulder until he spoke. “Yes. I—we’ve been worried.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t something CB ever expected to hear, especially not from Electra. A knot of guilt began twisting up in his chest—he’d never meant to make anyone worry about him. He couldn’t quite figure out why everyone cared so much, but he was starting to feel bad about putting them through this. “Thanks. But you can relax, I’m doing alright.”

Electra nodded, looking as far from relaxed as he could get. “Good.”

“That’s very reassuring to hear,” Volta said, giving him a small smile.

“Wrench hasn’t been telling us much,” Krupp added. “She’s very strict on doctor-patient confidentiality.”

That was surprising to CB. “I would’ve thought she told you guys everything.”

Krupp shook his head. “Not when it comes to someone’s private information.”

That was good to know, CB thought. There had been a lot of low points in his recovery so far that he didn’t want to be shared. “Well, as you can see, I’m getting better.”

“Yes,” Volta agreed, “much.”

“At this rate, you’ll be back in working order in no time,” Electra said, clapping his hand down on CB’s leg a little too roughly. Unfortunately for them both, he hit exactly on one of CB’s still-sensitive weld lines. CB couldn’t bite back the pained yelp that rose to his lips, and Electra snatched his hand back like he’d been burned. There was a look in his eyes CB couldn’t decipher, a mixture of fear and guilt and who knows what else. It was so far from the confidence CB was used to seeing from Electra that he didn’t know how to react. He just stared, completely confused.

Without another word, Electra turned and fled from the room. Bewildered, CB watched as Volta and Krupp rushed after him. The door swung closed behind them, but even still, CB could hear the sound of heavy, distressed breathing coming from just outside. If he didn’t know better, he would have said Electra was hyperventilating out there. There were hushed words of comfort from the components, trying to calm their engine down, but it didn’t seem like it was working.

For a moment, CB considered trying to get up and go out there. It felt like everyone was leaving him out of the loop with what was going on in the yard and he didn’t like it. But he couldn’t even make it to the door with Wrench’s support; he had no hope of getting there on his own. Frustrated, he threw his head back onto the pillows, feeling more useless than ever.

Hours passed before anyone came back into the room. It was the longest period of time he’d been left alone for since he woke up. But it wasn’t any visitor who came; it was just Wrench, there to do her usual evening checkup.

“What happened to Electra?” he asked as Wrench examined his leg, making sure the repairs were holding up after his fall earlier that afternoon.

“Nothing happened,” she said, not even looking up from what she was doing. “He’s fine.”

“He didn’t look fine when he left.”

Wrench shrugged and didn’t say anything else.

CB huffed, throwing himself back into the pillows with his arms crossed. It felt like everyone was intentionally keeping him in the dark about what was happening in the yard, and he was sick of it. Sure, Dinah came in with all the daily gossip, but when it came to things that actually mattered, no one said a word. All of this careful tiptoeing and treating him like he was made of glass was making him feel more useless than ever. “I’m not weak,” he told her petulantly. “You don’t have to shelter me.”

“What are you talking about?” Wrench asked, raising a brow.

“Everyone is treating me like some fragile little thing. The only things anyone will ever talk to me about are just sunshine and roses, but I know that’s fake. I know serious things have been happening, but whenever I ask, it’s always ‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ and ‘You just focus on yourself right now.’ No one will actually tell me what’s going on, and I’m sick of it!” He scowled. “Just because I crashed doesn’t mean I can’t handle serious topics. I’m not going to break over a bit of bad news.”

Wrench stared at him for a moment. “You think I’m trying to protect you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

By this point, CB was practically shouting in frustration. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t want me sharing any of your personal information without consent, would you?” Wrench replied, as calmly as ever.

“Well, no, but—”

“Then don’t try to get me to share anyone else’s.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

CB wanted to stop her, to argue that it wasn’t the same thing, but the words died in his throat. After all, were the situations truly all that different. If their roles had been reversed, if he had had a panic attack in front of Electra and his components, he wouldn’t want anyone talking about it.

On the other hand, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Electra’s sudden departure had something to do with him. If that was the case, didn’t he deserve to know? He didn’t like being left out of the loop on matters than concerned him. At the very least, he wanted to know what not to do the next time he saw Electra. But if being told that meant violating Electra’s privacy…

CB sighed. His mind was spinning in circles, and it was beginning to tire him out. He wanted someone else to come in so he could have some sort of distraction, but for the rest of the night, no one did.

***

It’d been a long time coming—far too long, in CB’s opinion—but Wrench had finally deemed him recovered enough to leave the repair room. He still had a ways to go before he was back up to top form, but for now he was steady enough on his feet, and stable enough in his health, that Wrench felt comfortable sending him home.

He was spending the morning collecting his things from the room, not that there was really much. His hat and scarf hadn’t survived the crash, but Dinah had brought him new ones. Other than that, there were only a few get-well gifts that he’d been given that he wanted to bring with him. He rubbed a corner of the blanket Rusty had given him between his fingers as he folded it. It was an unfortunate shade of orange, but oh so soft. It looked like it was hand-made, and—though he’d fight against ever saying so out loud—CB loved it.

When he looked up, Wrench was standing in the doorway, watching him carefully. He had no idea how long she’d been there, but she waited until their eyes met to speak. “May I come in?”

CB was caught off-guard. No one had asked him if they could come in before, and it made him suspicious. “Sure.”

He watched her warily as she rolled into the room, taking a seat next to him on the bed. Something was obviously on her mind, and it looked like she was struggling to figure out how to bring it up. CB kept an eye on her as she thought, waiting in silence for her to begin.

"CB, I’ve been thinking,” she said eventually.

Well, that told him nothing. “About what?” he asked, trying to think of where she could be headed with this.

“Your crash.”

“Oh.”

Wrench was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “The details just aren’t making sense to me. Electra’s a very experienced racer; he knows what speeds are unsafe. He may push it sometimes but he’s never reckless, especially not with a partner. I can’t imagine he took a turn fast enough to throw you off and not realize it.”

CB had an excuse ready for this. “My left hand’s been weak since the championship. I told you that.”

“Still,” Wrench said, keeping her face carefully neutral, “if you’d been thrown off by force, I’d expect to see damage to Electra’s couplers, or at the very least to your hand. But both of them were fine.”

“What are you talking about? You said my arm got crushed.”

“Your arm, yes, but not your hand.”

“Is there a difference?”

Wrench gave him a serious look. “Yes.”

CB shrugged, feigning that he didn’t have the answers she was looking for. He had a sinking feeling that he knew where she was going with this, and he didn’t want to have that conversation. Not here, not now, not ever.

He’d always known that Wrench was clever. He should have guessed that she would suspect something. But it had been weeks since the crash, and she never said anything. He thought he’d gotten away with it. He should have known better.

The silence was thick between them, so oppressive that CB was finding it hard to breathe. When Wrench finally spoke, her voice was softer than he’d ever heard before.

“You let go on purpose, didn’t you?”

CB looked away and didn’t say anything, but it was all the confirmation Wrench needed. Silently, she held out a card to him. CB looked at it suspiciously for a moment before taking it.

The only thing written on the card was a phone number. There was no name attached, no extra information, just the number. CB stared at it, trying to figure out the connection.

Wrench must have sensed his confusion, because she started explaining before he even looked up. “It’s for an old friend of mine’s office. They have more experience in this sort of thing than I do; they’ll be able to help you.”

CB looked up at her, emotion clogging his throat. She held his gaze as she continued, “I can’t make you call, but I really hope you will. You have a lot of friends here who care about you, and we all want to see you get better.” She reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. There was a soft smile on her face, equal parts sad and reassuring. She waited for a moment, giving him the opportunity to say something, but CB couldn’t think of anything to say.

The silence dragged on for a few seconds before Wrench gave his hand another squeeze. She got up from the bed and rolled towards the door, taking her time in case CB wanted to stop her. He didn’t.

He stared after her for a moment before turning his attention back to the card in his hand. Part of him wanted to crumple it up and throw it away, but the other part was frozen in place. Could this friend of Wrench’s really help him? Did he even want help?

Everyone had been so sad after his crash, and he’d only been hurt in it. What would have happened if he’d actually died? He hadn’t thought anyone would care, but now all he could picture was that haunted look in Electra’s eyes increasing ten-fold and never leaving; Rusty’s hands around his, holding on like a life line even though he knew it would do no good; Dinah crying, desperately needing someone there to comfort her but having no one. CB frowned. The images were twisting something inside his chest, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He carefully folded the card in half and slipped it in with the rest of his things. He would call. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough he would call, and things would get better. He would get better. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

***

The sun was already fairly high in the sky by the time CB finally woke up. He’d slept in later than he’d meant to, and for a moment almost felt bad about it. But he’d been talking with the therapist friend Wrench had directed him to, and he knew exactly what they would say about that line of thinking. He was still recovering, as they loved to remind him; if anyone else had been in a crash like that, he wouldn’t expect them to be back in perfect order yet, so why should he expect that of himself?

He sat up, enjoying the light that was streaming into the room for a moment before pushing himself out of bed.  He rolled over to the window and threw it open, breathing in the fresh air. The air was crisp and the sun was warm, and the longer he stood there, the more refreshed he felt.

He’d been wanting to re-do his paint ever since he left the repair room. He’d had enough of the unsightly scratches and mismatched patches, and he wanted them gone. Today, he decided, was as good a day as any to do it.

He searched through the drawers in his room, grabbing all the paint he had. It was a big job he had to do, and he knew he was going to need every drop of paint he could find.

Before he could find some excuse for himself not to, he grabbed a brush and ran the first line of fresh paint along his chest plate. He let out a long, slow breath, staring at the stripe of wet paint. It was the first step; now all he had to do was keep going.

It was going slower than he would have liked. He hadn’t regained his full range of motion yet, and all of the bending, reaching, and twisting he had to do to reach the spots he needed was starting to hurt.

After about an hour, he put the brush down and examined his work. He’d gotten every spot he could reach on his own, and he was looking much better. Of course, he still needed to do his stripes and his face, but it was a start.

He twisted around as best he could, trying to get a glimpse of his back in the mirror. It was no better than his front had been, and he frowned at his reflection. He wouldn’t be able to reach that on his own, even if he could still move like he needed to.

Now that he’d started, he didn’t want to stop. He ran over his options in his head. The thing to do now would probably be to ask someone to help. He thought over everyone he knew, and who on that list he trusted enough to help him. It didn’t take him long to decide that Dinah would be best. He grabbed his phone, pulling up her contact and dialing.

Dinah picked up on the second ring. “Hi, CB! What’s up?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Is everything okay?” she rushed out before he’d even finished talking, sounding worried.

CB had to admit, he was a little amused by her concern, though he tried to keep it out of his voice. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I’m just trying to re-do my paint, and I need someone to get my back.”

Dinah let out an excited gasp. “I’ll be right there!” She hung up without another word.

Dinah was at his door not even ten minutes later, a smile already on her face. Her eyes lit up even brighter when she saw CB. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly at his fresh paint.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He opened the door a little wider, waving her inside. “Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure!”

As far as CB could tell, she really meant that. She seemed eager to help, which CB didn’t understand—repainting was never a particularly exciting job—but appreciated nonetheless. He started off down the hall, leading the way back to his room. His movements were still a bit slow and stiff, but Dinah patiently kept pace with him as they made their way back to his room. He was getting better by the day, but it still hurt to be up on his feet sometimes. He was glad to be able to drop back down onto the chair he had pulled in front of the mirror.

“Paint’s on the dresser,” he said, waving a hand towards the bottle he’d been using.

Dinah immediately grabbed the wet brush and got to work. She started chatting as she began to paint, starting just below the base of his neck. “So what made you choose today for getting a re-paint?”

CB thought over the question, trying to figure out how to answer when his main line of reasoning had been why not? “I’ve been meaning to for a while,” he said after a moment. “Guess I just woke up in the mood to get it done.”

“Good!” she said, sounding genuinely happy for him. “It’s nice to see you having energy again.”

Personally, CB agreed. Stuck in bed in the repair room—and if he was being honest with himself, even before that—he hadn’t felt at all like himself. But since he’d started talking to Wrench’s therapist friend, things had started looking better.

Dinah kept up a friendly conversation while she worked, and after a while, she pulled the brush away. CB waited for it to touch back down again, but a few moments passed and nothing happened. Confused, he glanced at Dinah in the mirror, finding her staring into the bottle of paint she had been using. She flipped it over and shook over her hand a few times, but nothing came out. “Do you have any more?”

CB gestured to the paints he had lined up on the dresser. He had pulled out every bottle he owned for this, but it still wasn’t an impressive array. He’d used just about all of his paint fixing himself up after the crash at the championship, and after that he hadn’t had the energy to go out and buy more. All he had left were a few small bottles, the kind he used for detail work and small touch-ups.

Dinah bit her lip, looking over the selection of bottles. “I don’t think this is going to be enough.”

“Probably not,” CB agreed, “but it’ll be a start, at least.”

There was only one other bottle of red on the dresser, and Dinah grabbed it. She held it in her hand for a moment before twisting the cap off and looking inside. “There isn’t really a lot left in here,” she said eventually.

“I know.”

“I could probably finish your back, or maybe your face, but definitely not both.” She didn’t actually ask him anything, but CB heard the question nonetheless.

CB studied his face in the mirror, thinking it over. This was something he had wanted to have finished today, and he didn’t like the idea of having to pick one. “Finish my back, I guess. I’ll get more for my face later.”

“Are you sure?”

CB shrugged. “You already started,” he said. “Might as well finish.”

“Alright.” Bottle still in hand, Dinah circled back behind him, picking up where she left off.

CB watched her in the mirror. She seemed a little less optimistic now, and much less chatty. He could tell that she was trying to stretch the paint out and do as much as she could for him, but he couldn’t tell how successful she was.

After several minutes more, she was finished. “That’s the end of that,” she said, plunking the empty paint bottle down on the dresser.

“How’s it look back there?”

“I was able to get everything covered,” she said with a slight hesitation, making CB suspect it wasn’t good, “but it’ll definitely need a second coat.”

It wasn’t too hard for CB to put together what she wasn’t saying. “So, pretty bad, then?”

Dinah shrugged one shoulder. “If you have another mirror, we could probably angle them so you could see for yourself.”

“Thanks, but I don’t actually care that much.”

Dinah chuckled, looking over CB’s collection of paint another time. She picked up a few bottles, checking the color, but CB already knew that she wouldn’t find any more red. However, that wasn’t what she was looking for. “You know, just because we can’t do any details doesn’t mean we can’t at least base coat your face. You’ve definitely got enough paint for that.”

Go out with only half of his face detailed? “Won’t that look weird?”

Dinah shrugged. “Like you said, it’ll at least be a start.”

CB thought about it, staring at his face in the mirror. He really did hate those scratches. Every time he talked to someone, he could tell that they were staring, no matter how hard they tried not to—those scratches were all anyone ever saw. He dug his fingers hard into his arms, glaring at his reflection. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” The sooner they were gone, the better.

Dinah gave him a warm smile and grabbed a clean brush for the color she was holding. CB raised a hand to take them from her, but she lightly slapped it away. “Let me,” she said, already opening the bottle.

“I only asked you here to do my back.”

“Oh, I know. But I want to!”

Can’t argue with that, CB thought as Dinah brought the brush down on his cheek. She seemed genuinely happy to be helping him, and CB appreciated her enthusiasm. “This is going to look so good,” she told him on loop. “Don’t worry, you’re going to look amazing.”

The knock at the door came as a surprise to them both. Dinah looked up at him, confusion plain on her face. “Were you expecting someone else?”

CB shook his head, equally confused.

“Hmm.” She set the brush down and left the room, going to answer the door even though it wasn’t her house.

CB stared after her, wondering if he should get up and get the door instead. It probably didn’t matter, he decided, already hearing Dinah open the door. The sound of distant voices reached him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Now that he had a moment to himself, he took the opportunity to check out his reflection. It didn’t look as bad as he had feared.

Dinah was smiling brightly when she came back. “CB, you have a visitor!”

CB leaned back in his chair, trying to look through the doorway to see who was behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as well before rolling into the room and out of the way, letting whoever was with her through.

To CB’s mild shock, Electra appeared in the doorway. He didn’t come in right away, hovering hesitantly just outside the room like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

“Hey,” CB said, trying not to sound as surprised as he felt.

“Hello, CB,” Electra returned. He still looked conflicted, but when Dinah waved him into the room, he came. “You’re looking better.”

“A fresh coat of paint will go a long way,” Dinah chimed in cheerfully.

CB snuck another glance at the mirror. He had to admit, they were right. His face looked strange with only one side detailed, but at least those hideous scratches were gone. It was like a blank slate, a fresh start.

Dinah and Electra were both watching him, and he turned away from the mirror to face Electra. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Not to be rude or anything,” Dinah rushed to add on, “but we weren’t expecting you, so…”

For a moment, Electra looked almost scared. “Yes, well.” He fidgeted in place for a moment—CB still found it totally bizarre to see Electra being anything other than completely confident—then held out his hand to him. Still hung up on Electra’s behavior, it took CB a moment to realize he was offering him something. It was a small bottle of paint, sparkly and red, the one Electra must use for his facial detail.

Slightly confused, CB took it from him. He stared at the bottle for a moment before looking back up at Electra, searching for some sort of explanation.

Electra cleared his throat awkwardly. “I know it isn’t exactly your shade, but I thought you might be able to make use of it.”

“Oh.” A bubble of emotion was rising in CB’s throat, and he couldn’t even begin to identify it. He swallowed it down thickly. “Thank you.”

“That’s perfect!” Dinah exclaimed. “We were just talking about how we needed to get more paint.”

“Were you?” Electra said, in a way that made CB suspect he had heard that particular part of their conversation. “I’m glad I was able to help, then.”

The gesture was turning gears in Dinah’s head, and her face lit up as an idea came to her. “You know, Greaseball has tons of black paint. Maybe he’ll let us borrow some.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Electra agreed.

Dinah beamed. “I’ll go ask him!” Without another word, she rushed out of the room, leaving CB and Electra alone.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. CB turned the bottle of red around in his hand. It was a deeper than his own color, not to mention all the glitter. There was no way he could use it for his body work without it looking strange, but he might be able to get away with using it to re-do his face.  

He twisted the cap off, grabbing a small brush from off the table and dipping it into the paint. It looked even more sparkly on the brush. CB considered it for a moment—glitter really wasn’t his style, but at the same time, he didn’t want to turn down Electra’s gift. It felt like the engine was tiptoeing on eggshells around him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the precarious equilibrium they had found.

Maybe it wouldn’t look so bad, he told himself, bringing the brush up to his face. He was intending to start with repainting his eyes, but the moment he tried to raise his hand above the base of his neck, a sharp pain stabbed through his shoulder. Unable to bear it, CB dropped his arm with a hiss.

When CB glanced over at Electra, the engine was staring at him with concern plain on his face. He looked torn between wanting to step forward and make sure CB was okay and wanting to turn tail and run. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. I just still can’t raise my arm that high,” CB admitted, a feeling of defeat creeping up on him.

Electra chewed on his lip for a moment, as if he was unsure of his next course of action, before hesitantly holding out a hand in CB’s direction. “May I?”

Wordlessly, CB handed over the paint and brush. Electra took them from him and set them down on the table behind him. He took a deep breath, like he was steadying himself, before gently taking hold of CB’s chin and leaning in close. He tilted CB’s head to the side, carefully studying his surviving paint job. CB wanted to squirm under the intense scrutiny, but he forced himself to sit still.

After a few moments, Electra tilted CB’s head to the other side. He kept hold of CB’s chin as he reached behind him, grabbing the brush. “Close your eyes,” he said, and CB did.

The first touch of paint on his eyelid was cold. CB pressed his lips together, working hard to keep his face still so as not to mess up Electra’s work.

Electra’s ministrations were slow and careful. It was clear he was considering every stroke, trying to make it perfect. All of his touches were feather-light, and CB was surprised by how soft Electra could be. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had paid him such tender attention, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips; he’d forgotten how nice it felt to be taken care of.

He heard the cap being twisted off another bottle, and moments later felt a different brush touch down on the center of his eyelid. Electra must have been doing his white stripe. After a minute, Electra brought the brush up to re-paint his eyebrow. He couldn’t line them without black paint, but carefully filled them in with the white, taking the time to make sure he matched the angle of his remaining brow as best he could.

As the minutes ticked on, CB felt his whole body relax. Electra tilted his head back and forth, checking his work against CB’s original paint job, and CB put up no resistance. Electra must have been satisfied, and he blew gently on the wet paint to dry it faster. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said. “It still needs a few minutes to dry.”

CB hummed to let Electra know he’d heard him. He was fighting not to let his head loll back and fall asleep. He wondered if Electra would mind if he did—while he was in the repair room, everyone seemed to take him falling asleep as their cue to leave. Would the same rule apply now that he was out?

As he pondered the question, Electra tipped his head to the side to start on his cheek. CB knew those perfect circles were nearly impossible to free-hand, and he wanted to open his eyes to check how Electra was doing, but he didn’t dare mess up his fresh paint. From what he could tell, at least, it felt like Electra was doing fine.

Electra worked in silence, moving on from his cheek to the tip of his nose, then to the spots on his chin. There was no detail too small to escape his attention, and each one received the same amount of thought and care.

CB lost track of time as he sat there, letting himself soak up Electra’s attention. Eventually, Electra pulled the brush away. He tilted CB’s head back and forth one last time, presumably checking his work, before removing his hand as well. “There,” he said, followed by the sound of the cap being screwed back onto a bottle. “What do you think?”

CB opened his eyes slowly, wary just in case the paint on his eye hadn’t dried fully yet. Electra stepped to the side so that he could see himself in the mirror. CB had never considered glitter to be his style, but now that it was on his face, he was surprised by how much he didn’t mind.

He leaned in closer to the mirror, examining the fresh paint. Electra had done a remarkable job matching his original paint job—not that he had expected anything different—and the longer he looked at it, the better he felt. He tilted his head at different angles, admiring Electra’s work, and cracked a small smile. He was starting to look like himself again.

The whole time CB was studying his reflection, Electra watched him. CB couldn’t tell what he wanted, but it was getting to the point where he felt he had to at least say something. “It looks good. Really good.”

Electra gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you.”

CB glanced over at him and thought. Something about Electra’s unexpected arrival was still bothering him, and CB took a moment to try to find the words he needed for the questions swirling through his mind. “Not that I’m complaining,” he said eventually, “but why are you here? I know you didn’t come over just to help me re-do my paint.”

“Ah, no,” Electra admitted. “Though I can’t say I’m displeased with the turn of events. Your paint looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. If you wanted, I might even be able to improve the design.”

CB was too familiar with that diversion tactic to let it work. “Don’t change the subject. I know you were listening to Dinah and me talk before you came.” Electra looked guilty, and CB knew he had him. “So, what’s going on? Why did you come?”

Electra rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding CB’s eyes for a moment before he forced himself to look at him. There was pain in his eyes, but he soldiered through. “I know it’s been a while since your crash, but I still feel bad. And I haven’t said it yet, so I just wanted to say… I’m sorry, CB.”

“Oh,” was all CB could think to say. He looked away, starting to feel a little guilty himself. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

Electra shook his head. “You kept telling me to slow down, and I didn’t listen. It made sense; I knew I should have, it was obvious that it was a bad idea to keep pushing it, but I ignored you. I knew the race was hard on you, and I did nothing to make it easier.”

"Electra—”

“I wasn’t thinking about your safety at all. I’ve been in dozens of races, I know how important it is to take care of your partner. But I wasn’t taking care of you, and you paid the price for it.”

“Electra!”

“And I didn’t even notice when you broke loose! I didn’t even realize you weren’t with me until after I’d finished. How awful is that? You were the only one I was pulling, and I lost you, and I didn’t even notice! You were hurt so badly; you needed help and I just left you there. Anything could have happened to you, all because of my selfishness. I don’t know how you could ever forgive me.”

“I don’t have to forgive you, I was never mad at you in the first place.”

Electra shook his head, like there was something he was trying to say that CB just wasn’t getting. He dropped down onto CB’s bed, hanging his head in his hands. He drew in a shaky breath, and when he spoke again his voice was so soft CB could barely hear him. “You nearly died.”

CB stared at him. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, and he certainly didn’t know how to respond.

Luckily, Electra wasn’t looking for him to say anything. He took another deep breath and lifted his head, but he still wasn’t looking at CB. “I—you were barely breathing when we found you, and we were so far from the yard. I couldn’t stop thinking that something was going to happen to you before we could get back, and it would be all my fault.

“And then, when we did get you back—” Electra broke himself off, sounding close to tears. “Nobody knew if you were going to be okay. Wrench, she… she did her best, but even she… she said that we should be prepared, in case…”

A quiet sob slipped past his lips. He buried his face in his hands and forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

CB watched on in shock. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, wanting to say something but having no idea what. He never thought of himself as the comforting type. To have Electra, who usually acted so above it all, openly crying on his bed was making CB feel in way over his head.

Minutes passed before Electra was okay enough to continue. When he lifted his head, there were tear tracks on his cheeks, but his voice was remarkably controlled. “I really can’t say enough how sorry I am. I know the words on their own don’t mean much, and I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to ever make it up to you, but I’m sorry. You said you don’t have anything to forgive me for, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. And… I’d understand if you want me to go.”

For a long moment, CB couldn’t think of what to say. Electra seemed to take his silence as confirmation that he didn’t want him there, nodding resignedly before hanging his head. That wasn’t what CB had intended at all, and in a moment of panic he blurted out the only thing he could think of: “Aren’t you going to do the other side, too?”

Electra looked up at him, confusion written across his features. “Huh?”

CB examined his face in the mirror so he wouldn’t have to meet Electra’s eyes. “I’ll look stupid if only one side of my face is sparkly.”

Silence stretched between them, but when CB risked a glance to the side, a slow smile was spreading across Electra’s face. There was still sorrow buried deep in his eyes, but he no longer looked so pained. “I can’t imagine it’d be any worse than how you normally look,” he teased.

“Wow. Rude.”

Electra shrugged. “You’re the one whose paint looks like clown makeup.”

CB drew an exaggerated gasp. “Electra, I’m hurt!”

Electra chuckled as he pushed himself off the bed. He took his previous position in front of CB, grabbing the bottle of red paint and the brush he had been using. Before he could say anything, CB closed his eyes, ready for Electra to start.

It must have been much easier painting over his existing paint job, but Electra was no less careful. His strokes were measured, keeping the layer of paint even on CB’s skin. He leaned in so close that CB could feel his breath on his skin.

CB couldn’t help the little contented smile that broke out on his face. Electra must have noticed, because he gently ran his thumb along the corner of CB’s lips, but he didn’t say anything. The silence was comforting, peaceful, and CB let himself enjoy the moment as Electra moved on to repaint his cheek.

CB lost track of time after that, floating in the moment until he heard the door open in the front hall, shortly followed by Dinah calling, “I’m back!”

“We’re still here,” Electra called back, not looking up from what he was doing.

The sound of wheels turning grew closer and, moments later, Dinah poked her head through the doorway. Her eyes lit up when she saw CB. “Aww! CB, you look so good!”

CB opened his mouth to respond, but Electra tightened his grip on CB’s jaw, holding it in place. “Don’t talk,” he admonished. “You’ll mess up your lips.”

CB rolled his eyes. On any other day, he would have ignored Electra just to annoy him, but he did actually care about how his paint turned out. He relaxed his face back into a neutral position, trying to thank Dinah with his eyes alone.

Dinah came closer, examining Electra’s work over his shoulder. “It really does look good,” she told him.

“Thank you.” Electra kept his eyes on CB, completely absorbed in what he was doing. “Did Greaseball have any paint?

“Oh, yeah!” She held out her hand, displaying the three bottles of black paint she had brought with her. “He said we could take as much as we needed, so I can run back and get more if it’s not enough.”

“That’s very kind of him,” Electra said, taking one of the bottles and setting it down next to the red he was using. “Do you want to start on his stripes while I finish up his face?”

“Sure thing!”

CB raised an eyebrow, simultaneously amused and annoyed that he was being talked about like he wasn’t even there. Rather than trying to comment on it, he followed Dinah’s movement with his eyes as she disappeared around his back.

From behind him, Dinah said, “I’m going to start on your back, CB, okay?”

Electra was taking his time painting CB’s lips, so he still couldn’t talk. He gave Dinah a thumbs-up, and moments later felt the tip of a brush touch down on the back of his shoulder.

Dinah was no less careful than Electra, connecting the lines that had been broken by the scratches on his back. Her strokes were slow and methodical, and CB got the impression that she was being extra cautious to make sure everything turned out perfect. It was touching, honestly, and he couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. Electra shot him a look, a silent reprimand for his continued movement. CB waggled his eyebrow in return, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Electra huffed and forced CB’s lips back into a more neutral position with his thumb, but there was a small smile on his face as well.

While Electra preferred to work in silence, Dinah did not. As soon as she hit a rhythm painting CB’s stripes, she started telling them about the latest updates she’d heard from Turnov and Bobo. CB knew she’d kept in contact with the national trains after the championship, and although he hadn’t been particularly close with them, he enjoyed hearing what was happening in the foreign yards.

As she talked, Electra switched over to the black paint. He started off lining CB’s eyebrows, then his eyes, taking extra care as he ran the brush along CB’s lash line. He worked his way down CB’s face, constantly checking his own work against CB’s old paint job. It was cute how careful he was being, CB thought. He peeked one eye open, only to see Electra with his tongue stuck out in concentration. CB swallowed back a giggle and shut his eye before Electra could notice he was looking.

Between the two of them, CB’s paint job was finished much faster than he had expected when he started that morning. It was still early-afternoon when Electra and Dinah screwed the caps back onto their bottles and began to clean up. Electra grabbed all the brushes they had used, bringing them into the bathroom to be washed.

Without the engine in front of him, blocking his view, CB could finally see himself in the mirror. When he raised his eyes to check out his reflection, he couldn’t help but stare. He didn’t look like just the victim of a bad crash anymore; he finally looked like himself again.

Of course, it wasn’t quite like nothing had ever happened. There were still raised weld lines and dents that couldn’t be worked out, but they weren’t so glaringly obvious anymore. Anyone who looked at him would see more than his scars, now.

Dinah hovered over his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror with a bright smile. “It came out pretty good, don’t you think?”

CB turned his head from side to side, admiring the way the glitter caught the light. It was a new look for him, but honestly, he liked it. It felt fitting: a new look for a new him.

Electra was back, watching CB from the doorway. He looked more relaxed than CB had seen him since the rematch, the smile on his face small but genuine.

CB took a deep breath, matching Dinah and Electra’s smiles with one of his own. He was feeling better than he had in ages. “It looks perfect,” he said, and he truly meant it.

[musicprincess655]

There was a thrill to fighting. 

A year ago, Atsushi never would’ve believed that, but a year ago, he’d still been the human equivalent of a doormat, still hadn’t discovered the tiger inside him, still hadn’t made peace with said tiger. And, if he was honest with himself, which he was making an effort to be these days...a year ago, he hadn’t had Akutagawa. 

Akutagawa, who was currently coughing into his hand, but not nearly as badly as he used to before they started this partnership. Akutagawa, who was slowly learning how much better he worked as support than he’d ever worked on his own. Akutagawa, who, despite being the rabid dog of the Port Mafia, hadn’t killed a single person in four months, purely because Atsushi had told him not to. 

It had taken dangling his own life in Akutagawa’s face, but Atsushi had still done it. 

Maybe it was scary how effective they were, for all that they still couldn’t stand each other. Atsushi considered all the formerly-armed men at their feet. A group had grown in Yokohama, aiming to challenge the Port Mafia, and the way they’d decided to do that was to take the Armed Detective Agency out first. Rather than honor the still-shaky truce by sending enough men to wipe out the new group, the Port Mafia had instead just sent Akutagawa, which meant that the Armed Detective Agency had answered with Atsushi. 

Between the two of them taking out grunts and everyone else working behind the scenes to cut the group off no matter where they tried to escape, it was a pretty effective takedown. Atsushi stretched his arms over his head, feeling the burn of his muscles, but it was all from a satisfying fight. He hadn’t spent half his focus just fighting to get him and Akutagawa to work together. Much as they bickered, straining against each other’s ideals, when they worked, they were unstoppable. 

“Good work today,” Atsushi said absently, hiding a yawn behind his fist. He was so used to hearing a chorus of replies that the silence made him look up.

And nearly jump out of his skin at catching Akutagawa’s eyes trained on him. 

Akutagawa didn’t look away when Atsushi locked eyes with him, like he usually did. Instead, he looked almost more intense, and Atsushi braced himself for a hit without thinking. He’d gotten much better at reading Akutagawa since they’d started their partnership - or at least better at knowing which buttons would have them at each other’s throats - but this was a reaction he’d never gotten before. 

If he didn’t know any better, he could almost swear Akutagawa looked...happy? Nothing about his expression had changed, but something about his posture reminded Atsushi of a dog wagging its tail. Even his eyes, usually so hollow, had a glimmer in them. 

“What?” Atsushi asked defensively, barely restraining himself from putting his hands up. He didn’t think Akutagawa was about to attack, but he also didn’t know what Akutagawa was about to do, and that made this situation much more dangerous than a regular frontal assault. 

“Good work,” Akutagawa replied. Atsushi blinked as Akutagawa turned and left, feeling like he’d both dodged a bullet and stumbled over a new secret. 

What the hell had all that been about?

***

Atsushi burrowed deeper into his futon as morning sunlight fell across his eyes. It was his day off, and he fully intended to wake up as slowly and luxuriously as he pleased. It wasn’t often he got days without anything planned, and he was going to make the most of it. 

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he met with passive grey staring back at him. Akutagawa loomed over him, face blank and terrifying. 

“It hasn’t been six months yet!” Atsushi yelped, scrambling backwards. 

In his haste to get away, he saw Kyouka a) completely unharmed b) watching impassively and c) sipping from a luridly pink...Atsushi hesitated to call it coffee, despite its Starbucks logo. 

“Get up, Jinko,” Akutagawa said, throwing a pile of clothes at Atsushi. “We have things to do.”

“What things? We don’t have things?” Atsushi protested. “Kyouka-chan? Did you just...let him in?”

Kyouka sucked at her bright pink whatever it was, slurping obnoxiously in the silence. It was more answer than Atsushi wanted to admit. 

“I brought breakfast,” Akutagawa said, as if that was any kind of explanation. “Get dressed so we can go.”

“Go where?” Atsushi demanded, but he moved automatically to change, because he’d feel a lot more comfortable fighting or whatever it was Akutagawa wanted if he had pants on. 

“Errands,” Akutagawa said. He gave Atsushi a once-over, nodded to himself like Atsushi had managed to meet some standard, and held out a coffee cup. Atsushi squinted as he took it. Poison wasn’t really Akutagawa’s style, but then again, neither was showing up at his apartment and bribing Kyouka with drinks for entry.

“We didn’t plan anything,” Atsushi said. “What would we even need shin soukoku for? There’s no way a group popped up overnight, there’s nothing we need to deal with.”

“Kyouka-chan said you need groceries,” Akutagawa replied. Kyouka nodded, face still blank, trying to suck the last of her drink out of the cup by sheer willpower.

“You want to go grocery shopping? With me?” Atsushi asked, because surely he couldn’t have heard that right. 

“Move your ass, Jinko,” Akutagawa said. “If we go now we can beat the crowd.”

“Why?” Atsushi asked, the words almost coming out as a whine in his confusion. Was he concussed? He was almost sure he hadn’t hit his head yesterday, but that also sounded like something someone with a concussion would say. 

“Come on,” Akutagawa insisted. Atsushi took a hesitant sip of his coffee, and found it...not bad? Not too sweet, nothing like Kyouka’s - Atsushi was pretty sure she was drinking liquified cotton candy somehow - but also not plain and black. 

It only made him more suspicious. 

Atsushi was beginning to suspect he didn’t have a concussion at all when Akutagawa led him to the supermarket he knew they both shopped at. He was having a stroke, because there wasn’t a world where Akutagawa took him grocery shopping. Akutagawa was even being pretty nice, for him. He’d brought coffee and a croissant, and he hadn’t snapped at Atsushi even once on the walk over. Granted, they hadn’t spoken, because Atsushi was still working through the stroke he had to be having. 

Atsushi was almost ready to believe that Akutagawa was trying to play mind games with him, except that wasn’t much Akutagawa’s style either. He liked to charge things head on, even to his own detriment. But still, what other explanation was there for Akutagawa calmly gathering his groceries as Atsushi tried to remember what he and Kyouka even needed?

They barely exchanged a word through paying for their groceries, and Atsushi was sure the hit was coming as soon as they were outside. Maybe Akutagawa had finally snapped from being forced to stop killing and couldn’t wait two more months? Maybe he was trying to have this showdown in a public place, just to prove to everyone that he could? 

Atsushi worried and worried over possibilities all the way back to the dorm, sure that at any second Akutagawa would drop his bags and then try to drop Atsushi. By the time he was standing in his own kitchen and putting his groceries away, he’d worked up enough sweat to bleed through his shirt. 

And Akutagawa watched it all happen, the sick bastard. Did he really need to play with Atsushi so much before attacking? He was vicious, and he was cruel, but Atsushi had never expected his depravity to hit such an all time low. Even now, he was probably laughing at Atsushi’s anxiety, waiting for the most satisfying moment to strike, and…

“Good work today,” Akutagawa said. He didn’t look quite like a dog wagging its tail this time, but more like his tail had perked up, waiting for something. 

“Good...good work?” Atsushi replied hesitantly, and watched as that same glow from yesterday backlit Akutagawa’s grey eyes, almost making them look lively. Now he looked like a dog wagging its tail, even without moving. 

Akutagawa left, and Atsushi turned to Kyouka in helpless confusion. 

“What just happened?”

Kyouka took a juice from the fridge and didn’t answer him. 

***

The revelation came, as most revelations did, at the worst possible time. 

“Oh no,” Atsushi whispered, cutting off whatever Ranpo-san was rambling about (always a dangerous move). “I Pavlov’ed him.”

“You what?” Ranpo’s smile was dangerous, but Atsushi was too busy having a crisis to care. 

“Who are you talking about, Atsushi-kun?” Dazai asked. The grin in his voice told Atsushi he already knew. 

“He’s been spending time with Akutagawa,” Kyouka offered helpfully. “Sometimes Akutagawa shows up and they run errands together.”

“Please stop,” Atsushi begged, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Is he harassing you?” Kunikida asked. “If there’s a problem, you don’t have to bear it on your own. We’ll back you up, it’s only right.”

“He bought you food last time,” Kyouka continued, her eyes narrowing. 

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t think he’d actually do it, I just wanted to annoy him-”

“And you were out for hours a few weeks ago because you stopped in the park.”

“It was a nice day, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying it-”

“It almost sounds like you got yourself a-”

“Please don’t say boyfriend.”

“-dog.”

That was, apparently, too much for Dazai, because he disappeared behind his desk, laughing his head off. 

“It’s not funny,” Atsushi protested. 

“But what did you mean when you say you...Pavlov’ed him?” Kunikida asked. “What does that even mean?”

“I just...it all started after I told him good work,” Atsushi said. “I didn’t mean to praise him or anything, but he just started showing up after that.”

“Ah. Pavlov. Got it,” Kunikida said. “Dazai, shut up.”

“That is too good,” Dazai said, wiping tears from his face. “Atsushi-kun, see what else you can get out of him.”

“I’m not doing that,” Atsushi said. “I didn’t even mean to, I don’t want him to be my...my dog, or whatever. Why would he even react like this?”

“I can’t imagine he hears praise for his work often, even as simple as what you did,” Kunikida mused. “The Port Mafia isn’t a place that values things like that. I’m sure basic manners between coworkers don’t exist there.”

“That is...incredibly depressing.”

“No respect for ideals, huh?” Dazai asked, leaning into Kunikida with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “No wonder you can’t stand them.”

“Get off, you suicide maniac,” Kunikida growled. 

“Is that any way to practice basic manners between coworkers?”

“Do you want to die today?”

“Not painfully!”

Atsushi watched Kunikida throw Dazai back across the room and sighed. It was his turn to get the broom. 

“Why did you say boyfriend?” 

Atsushi jumped. Kyouka could still sneak up on him so easily. 

“I thought you were going to say boyfriend,” Atsushi said. “And I didn’t want you to say it, because he’s obviously not.”

“But I said dog.”

“Well, I know that now,” Atsushi said, sweeping the remains of Dazai’s desk chair into a pile. At least he and Kunikida had settled down now, so the damage was minimal. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Of course not,” Atsushi said. “He’s…”

What did he call Akutagawa? They weren’t friends, and they certainly weren’t boyfriends. Akutagawa wasn’t his dog, even if Atsushi had somehow conditioned him into expecting praise from their interactions, to the point that just running operations for work wasn’t enough and Akutagawa had started seeking him out in their spare time. Partners sounded too functional for them, and beyond that, Atsushi wasn’t sure what was left. 

“...he’s Akutagawa,” Atsushi finished lamely. 

He wasn’t a fan of how often he was on the receiving end of Kyouka’s judgemental face lately. 

***

When Atsushi woke up to grey eyes once again, he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised. It was his regular day off, and Akutagawa knew his schedule by now. 

“This has to stop,” Atsushi said, pushing himself up and snatching his pants from Akutagawa. “If you want to do things, text me in advance.”

“I don’t-”

“I’m serious,” Atsushi cut off Akutagawa’s protest. “If this is gonna be a regular thing, fine, whatever. I know you have my number. Text me before you just show up.”

Akutagawa, surprisingly enough, actually looked abashed. 

“I have to take a shower before we leave,” Atsushi said. “Hang out with Kyouka-chan until I’m done.”

“She’s not here.”

“Great. Perfect. You broke in.” Atsushi wasn’t even annoyed. Maybe this had gone too far, but he and Akutagawa had also never been more functional, and considering there were only a few short weeks until Akutagawa would try to kill him, Atsushi felt he couldn’t be blamed for wanting to prolong the peace. He really liked not being stabbed regularly. “Stare at a wall, then. I’ll be out when I’m out.”

Atsushi sent Kyouka a text on his way to the bathroom. 

    >>you left on purpose because you knew he would be here, didn’t you

He felt his phone buzz against his hand before he stepped into the shower. 

    >>you fed the stray dog. its your fault he keeps coming back

Atsushi didn’t feel even remotely guilty for taking his time in the shower. It was his day off, after all. When he finally emerged, skin steaming from how long he’d spitefully stayed in, Akutagawa was washing a cup in the sink. 

“Did you make tea?”

“You took a while.” Akutagawa’s brow was strangely furrowed. “Your tea sucks.”

“It’s what I can afford.” As far as insults went, that was one of Akutagawa’s weakest. Atsushi was more offended by that than the actual insult. 

“Do you. Want better tea?” Akutagawa asked haltingly. “I can get you better tea.”

Atsushi blinked. It was the closest Akutagawa had ever come to apologizing to him. 

“Uh. Sure?” If Akutagawa wanted to blow his fancy mafia salary on getting Atsushi tea that didn’t (apparently) suck, Atsushi wasn’t going to argue. 

They hadn’t even made it to the grocery store when the unsteady peace broke again. This time, however, it wasn’t either of their faults. 

Explosions shattered the silence of the lazy weekend day. Atsushi was moving forward before he even thought about it, rushing to find the source. The few people that were out and about today had scattered, running for their lives. Atsushi ran in the opposite direction, trying to find what they were running from. 

And found a man throwing fire around. 

“Rogue ability user?” Akutagawa asked. Atsushi hadn’t even realized he’d followed. 

“Probably,” Atsushi said. “I don’t know who he is. Let’s go.”

“What?” Akutagawa didn’t move, staring at Atsushi in disbelief. 

“We have to help,” Atsushi said slowly. “There’s no one else here.”

Akutagawa rolled his eyes so hard Atsushi was surprised they didn’t fall off his face. 

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Whoever the rogue ability user was, they were clearly used to fighting enemies that couldn’t get close to them. Atsushi had Rashomon, though, and fire couldn’t stop him. 

His real concern was the few bystanders that hadn’t been able to run away, trapped by the fires. Atsushi didn’t have a lot of attention to give them, but between him and Akutagawa, this wasn’t the safest place for them to be. Both of their abilities had the tendency to cause collateral damage. 

The tendrils of Rashomon that weren’t wrapped around Atsushi were carefully avoiding all of the bystanders, though. Atsushi didn’t even have to look over his shoulder to get what Akutagawa was doing. He hadn’t realized Akutagawa had this level of control over his ability. 

“At least he’s a man of his word,” Atsushi thought grimly, and in one solid punch, the rogue ability user was down. 

Akutagawa was coughing almost desperately into his hand when Atsushi turned to face him. That was fair, Atsushi supposed. The kind of control Akutagawa had had to use wasn’t one he’d practiced, as far as Atsushi knew. Not killing people took a lot more than killing them, and Atsushi was sure he’d never bothered to try before. 

“Let’s move,” Atsushi said, pushing against Akutagawa’s back until he started walking. 

“Don’t-” Akutagawa cut off with another coughing fit. 

“Do you wanna deal with the police right now?” Atsushi asked. He did remove his hand from Akutagawa’s back, though. 

“No.”

“Then move.”

Once they were a safe enough distance away, almost back to Atsushi’s place, they slowed to a stop. 

“Good work out there today,” Atsushi said, pronouncing the words with more care than usual. 

“Good work,” Akutagawa agreed, his coughing spell finally over. 

“No. I mean it.” Akutagawa looked up sharply. “Good work out there. You didn’t hurt anyone but the rogue ability user. That can’t have been easy.”

“There’s nothing special about not killing people, Jinko.” Akutagawa sounded almost amused. 

“There is for you,” Atsushi said. “It takes more strength for you to not kill people.”

“This isn’t strength,” Akutagawa scoffed. 

And all of a sudden, Atsushi realized that he would miss this. Not just not getting stabbed, not just being able to exist in the same area as Akutagawa without trying to kill each other, but this too. This whole not-friendship they had. In a few short weeks, they would have their showdown. Akutagawa would try to kill Atsushi, Atsushi would try not to die, and they would both try to escape the demons of their past. Atsushi wasn’t sure they would still be able to have this weird not-friendship, where they could be around each other peacefully, where he could see evidence of the humanity in Akutagawa, after that. 

A part of him would miss being able to see Akutagawa and think, he’s not the worst. 

“Good work today, anyway,” Atsushi said. It had the desired effect. Something cloudy cleared from the storm that was Akutagawa’s eyes. 

“You too. Good work.”

[houseki-no-suffering]

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Human AU, 1960s AU Characters: Cinnabar/Phosphophyllite, Diamond, Euclase, Bort, Alex, Yellow

A/N: I just- i wanna take this moment to express my deep love and adoration for Antarc and for everything they did. You’ve always been too good for us. Also Alex, ty for being amazing. And thanks to @lapishead for betareding this. Enjoy!

Antarcticite’s silent presence had fit into the domestic monotony of the community with ease.

Like an unobtrusive new piece of the machinery, they would spend their days worrying about Sensei’s health with Rutile, assisting him, or helping Alexandrite with the children. Antarc didn’t make for a good teacher, but they possessed the strained willingness of someone who doesn’t know how to be indebted to people.

In the three weeks that they spent at the dormitories, they singlehandedly inspired Bort to pursue a military career, repaired the dorms’ electrical wiring and overthrew Cinnabar’s life without exchanging more than a couple of words with them.

It wasn’t like Antarcticite was especially charismatic, quite the opposite in fact: they did not like people. However, they acted out of a unique, humble brand of fairness that made their character stand out even when they tried to stay on the sidelines. It was a necessity to be of use. It had Phos literally hanging off Antarc’s every word by the end of the first week.

Maybe it started when Euclase asked Phos to give up their room for Antarc. Phosphophyllite was the youngest kid and the only one to sleep alone in what was the only spare room, it made sense for them to give it to their new guest. But Phosphophyllite complained and whined so much that a flushed Antarc asked Euclase if they could share the room with the kid.

Or maybe it started with Phos’ exuberant enthusiasm. Cinnabar was used to it but Antarcticite was embarrassed to no end by Phos’ antics and they would try anything to keep them busy or quiet. It was how Phos bribed Antarc into becoming their new school tutor and into telling Phos an elaborate recount of their life and of their job, of how they were working with the government and the aeronautics to prevent a new war.

When Alex scoffed, mumbling that it was just anti-soviet capitalist propaganda, Cinnabar silently agreed with them, more to disagree with Antarcticite than out of an interest in politics. Maybe that was how it started, like an ideological divide. Almost overnight, there was a rift between Phos and Cinnabar where there had never been one, and Cinnabar would ride to the lighthouse alone after school while Phos followed Antarc like an excited puppy.        

There was a part of Cinnabar that still wanted to reprimand themselves for doing nothing. They should have talked with Antarc, talked with Phos, confronted Phos, told them how they were feeling. Or maybe some part of them already knew that they would lose this battle and it was just shielding Cinnabar from more hurt. The more involved they would be, the harder to let go.

Cinnabar went through those three weeks like a diver jumping off a cliff: leaping into the void, holding their breath and hoping that the water below would be safe. They watched from the sidelines, telling themselves that it was okay and hoping to release a breath once this was over. And then, three days before Antarc was leaving, Phos asked Cinnabar to go for a ride again and broke it to Cinnabar that they would be leaving too.

Cinnabar woke up.

Phos’ ghost was still dancing before their eyes. The first rays of sun were filtering a silvery light through the wood shutters and Cinnabar scowled kicking the sheets away.

“Antarc’s gonna leave next week.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m going with them.”

Mature people were supposed to process and archive a lifetime of occurrences, from the smallest of happenings to significant turning points. It should mean something that Cinnabar wasn’t able to get over just one simple thing.

The process of understanding and accepting life events had always seemed somewhat mechanical in Cinnabar’s eyes and, as much as they enjoyed being analytical, it only came naturally when their logic was applied to external issues. And their mind just happened to be an internal one.

“I’m going with them.”

The main problem wasn’t even the way Phos had looked at Cinnabar yesterday or that they had disappeared off the face of earth for years. It was the cacophony of sounds and words that had decided to resurface in Cinnabar’s mind at the mere mention of Phos. Memories were sociable things, they came in groups and they were always looking for attention. Cinnabar knew they should have repressed them deeper. Like Bort had said once: “Never leave a job undone.”

Bort probably meant that you should get to the root of a problem instead of burying it away or build yourself a castle of illusions. But Bort was probably born a functioning adult while Cinnabar’s inner child still had too much fun ruining their life to give up the position of absolute power. The fact that Cinnabar turned on the radio at high volume to ignore Phos’ voice had everything to do with it.

“I’m going with them.”

In the end, they had to run to get to work in time. They rushed down the street still fastening their coat as if they had not spent thirty minutes of their life contemplating the endless vanity of the universe. And then they rushed back inside because of course they would forget the tests.

Why couldn’t things exist just as simple, uncomplicated concepts? No time, no space, no memories or people, just intangible ideas floating peacefully in the universe’s mind scape.

Dragging themselves into the library, Cinnabar pushed open the door, a tangle of red bed hair and mismatched clothes.

“Hi,” they mumbled.

It took Alexandrite one glance to sense that something was off.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” they walked towards them, taking the papers away from Cinnabar.

“Yeah,” Cinnabar nodded, unsure what to do with their hands now that they had nothing to hold.

Alex took off their glasses as if to better look at them, their eyes soft.

“I’m not going to ask but you can talk to me, okay? I’m aware of the… things currently going on. The town’s small and Euclase likes to talk.”

“Good for ‘em.”

Alex chuckled, ruffling Cinnabar’s hair before the latter had any time to protest.

“Guess so. But talking isn’t that bad from time to time, is it?”

It was way too early for this. So early that part of Cinnabar’s anxiety must still be asleep because for a second they were tempted to actually speak their mind. They crossed their arms over their chest, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet.

“Got nothing to say. Idiot’s back. Not my problem.”

Cinnabar regretted those words because now Alex looked like they had something to say too and Cinnabar had no idea what to do with the attention. After all, Phos had left with Chryso’s cousin, it was expected that Alex would be concerned about it. It also felt stupid to complain about a dear one being back. Most people had never had that chance, Lexi included.

“Always the realist, I see,” Lexi smiled, burying their interest, “well, it’s not like we have nothing else to do ourselves. Remember the archive?”

“No-“ Cinnabar paled.

“Oh yes! There’s a whole new section waiting for your radiant presence. I totally forgot about the 1955’s kids last time, my bad. It’s not that many. Don’t look at me like that.”

One enthusiast apology after the other, Alexandrite more or less shoved Cinnabar in the archive aisle. Cinnabar was inclined to think that Lexi was doing this on purpose as their own unobtrusive way of helping. Nothing like boring paperwork to keep an overthinker’s mind distracted.

“Thank you for your hard work. I’ll be over there, children’s section,” Alex chirped.

“Thanks.”

“You can do this, Shinsha.”

It sounded purposely generic. Then Alex put their glasses on again and disappeared down the corridor.

Cinnabar walked toward the desk with a loud groan. A few books and papers were already scattered over the wood, a sign that Alex must have noticed their mistake that morning and had been trying to fix it as best as they could. Student cards were piled up next to the ledger of what Cinnabar assumed was the 1955-1956 school year. It was as thick as an encyclopedia.

They climbed on the table, bringing one of their knees to their chest. They could either sit in silent contemplation the whole day or start working. Cinnabar’s thoughts would find a way to reach them anyway so they might as well keep their hands busy. That was what a mature person would do. Probably. Mature Cinnabar seemed like such a foreign concept.

“I’m going with them.”

Where was Phos going now? Was this still home for them? Did they have any choice in coming back? The more Cinnabar reminded themselves they should not care, the more they found themselves thinking about it. What of Antarc?

Cinnabar shut one of the drawers of the archive with more force than usual. The sound reverberated around the library, dissolving in the soft chorus of voices of the building. Cinnabar did not dare find an answer to their questions; what would there be for Cinnabar? Even if they knew, there was no point, so they kept writing down students’ names and dates, imitating Euclase’s calligraphy for the sake of consistency.

Euc had been the first to do archive work, when the school opened. They had been the one to help Sensei build the dormitories, the one to shelter the kids during the war and the one to let the orphans in when it ended.

Euclase was a mature person and they wanted Cinnabar to play family again. Was that what a mature Cinnabar looked like? It just seemed fake and sick in Cinnabar’s eyes. And yet they were confronted with the choice just a few hours later.

They were on their way home, hands sore and stained with ink from writing the whole day. It was late in the afternoon and the sky was tinted a deeper blue, a few stars had begun to light up.

Phosphophyllite had not been following them. Cinnabar refused to be so paranoid as to believe it, but there Phos was, right in front of them. They were sitting on the sidewalk along the town’s main road, the one that Cinnabar would walk at least once a day to get to work.

Phos was looking at them, they had seen Cinnabar coming. They had been waiting for Cinnabar this time and when Cinnabar was at hearing distance, but still distant enough to walk away if they wanted to, Phos stood up with ridiculous solemnity and walked towards them.

Cinnabar didn’t know why they did not run away this time because, when Phos started talking, they felt the same sense of nausea building up in their stomach.

“Hi,” Phos mumbled.

What an elaborate choice of words. Cinnabar crossed their arms on their chest, pressing their lips together.

“I- uhm, I’m sorry. About yesterday. Sorry. Didn’t meant to- well, I mean, it wasn’t on purpose.”

Phos was tormenting the hem of their sleeves. Now that they had Cinnabar’s attention, they were stubbornly avoiding their eyes. Why were the two of them even having this conversation if Phos was the first not to want it?

“So, that was one thing,” Phos let out a breathless chuckle, straightening their back as if they had just taken a weight off their shoulders. They looked like they had grown taller.

“Actually, I need to talk to you. I know you don’t want to, I wouldn’t want to talk with me either, not after everything…” the way Phos’ lips would twist in a resigned smile gave their expression a grieved feeling. It made this conversation even more unbearable.

Phos’ half-sentence hung in the air. It remained dangling between the two of them as Phos kept fidgeting with their sleeves and Cinnabar dug their hands deeper beneath their arms. They were focusing on breathing, counting the seconds between inhaling and exhaling, slowly. They felt like they were suffocating, hazy, as if they weren’t really there.

The seconds kept stretching by in groups of eight and seven with each breath. They became minutes, long like the years that lay between Cinnabar and Phos. Phos who still would not meet Cinnabar’s gaze and who wanted to be there just as much as Cinnabar did.

The thought that they should give Phos a chance crossed Cinnabar’s mind for a brief second. They should hear out Phos’ story, their excuses, they should put aside their own hurt and listen as Phos talked about how happy they had been with Antarc and why they had decided to throw it away.

Then Phos’ lips parted. Their eyes shone with a new resolution and they finally lifted them to meet Cinnabar’s. They stepped forward, coming into the light of a nearby lamppost. They had grown taller. They were taller than Cinnabar.

“Do you want to talk? With me?”

Even if it’s me?

Some memories are delicate, fragile things. When you unveil them, the beauty or the pain they carry with them comes out in soft waves, making you dizzy as you run your eyes over them. There is familiarity in those feelings, like an echo, the smell of an old attic that has remained sealed for too long and where each flake of dust reminds you of a different time.

But it’s fragile. Just as you begin to remember, those memories shatter. Familiarity dissolves as old images crash with new ones, merging together, turning to smoke, being carried away by the present, dispersed forever.

Into the cold yellow of the lamppost’s light, Phos looked old. Older than their years. They looked tired, weary. It was in the way they carried themselves, in the way their smile did not reach their eyes, in the way their cheeks would dimple and in the way Phos would hide their eyes under their fringe. Just like Cinnabar.

In that moment, Cinnabar understood what a mature person would do. A friend, a true friend, would throw away their own feelings and ask Phos what was wrong. Because something was, something was terribly wrong.

“Please?” Phos added. It was like a mumbled stab to Cinnabar’s resolution.

They were aware of how much Phosphophyllite had meant to them and of how much they still wanted Phos to mean. Cinnabar would not hope for anything, but this was still Phos, they were in front of them, hidden beneath layers of memories and experiences that they had made without Cinnabar.

But it had been Phos’ choice. Cinnabar had let them go once, because they dared not wish for anything, and they would do it again because wishing was still scary.

They thought about their resentment, about departing coaches and about Antarcticite. They thought that Phos would be going home to Antarc eventually and that they would take better care of Phos than Cinnabar. They thought about Bort’s words.

You owe them nothing.

“No,” Cinnabar pushed the syllable past their lips. It was like remembering how to talk and they regretted it immediately after.

“Alright,” Phos said. The look that crossed their face sat uncomfortably in Cinnabar’s chest. Then Phos stepped aside to let Cinnabar pass, moving out of their way as if they would disappear if they only could.

Cinnabar walked past them as if through a haze, clinging to reasons and an anger they could already feel dissolving. The echo of Phos’ voice came to them as if through water.

“Goodnight,” it said.

[poeticsandaliens]

Magic Numbers

Pairing: Debbie Ocean x Lou (Heist Wives; fight me on that)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The numbers tattooed on Lou’s arm are milestones and memories, most of which involve Debbie in some romantic capacity. 

Someone on this site noticed Lou’s tattoo and wondered what it meant (@awomanontheverge I think), and so I made something up to supplement the lack of information. 

Find it here on AO3.

Lou sauntered lazily about the beach house in a robe that Debbie Ocean was definitely wearing the night before. She leaned against the kitchen counter, snapping spearmint gum and sipping coffee untainted by the bulk box of Splenda in the pantry. The mug literally had her name on it—Daphne’s idea, and since it was Daphne’s house they were invading, no one protested the labeled coffee cups. (Secretly, she liked the gaudy purple lettering. She liked the idea that certain things are hers and hers alone.)

“Yo.”

She looked up to find Constance standing in the doorway, toothbrush lodged between her teeth, beanie askew. The kid eyed her expectantly.

“What?” Lou raised an eyebrow.

“Nothin.’ Thought I heard someone awake.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just early, that’s all,” Constance shrugged.

Lou’s skepticism multiplied. Constance was a notoriously heavy sleeper, and she’d never seen her awake before noon. Her watches read five AM and six AM respectively, but since Daylight Savings, the six AM watch was correct. “What’re you doing up?”

Constance grinned. “Surfing.”

Holding her coffee to her chest, Lou looked her up and down—oversized t-shirt, hat, sneakers. No surfboard in sight. “You sure about that?” she challenged.

Constance lifted her hands and backs away. “Chill, alright,” she said, palms to Lou. “I gotta change first. I didn’t say I was leaving right this second, Mom. ”

Lou rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her coffee.

“Besides, what are you doing awake?”

Lou smirked. “Can you keep a secret?” That got Constance’s attention. Lou watched her eyes widen as she slid across the kitchen floor and leaned into the older woman’s personal space.

“Yes,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Lou narrowed her eyes. “No you can’t. No dice, kid.”

Constance groaned. “Fine. There is no secret, is there?”

“God no.” Of course there wasn’t—Lou didn’t have secrets. Secrets dangled over people’s heads and lent her private life unnecessary drama. If she didn’t want people to know something, she simply didn’t tell him, and she never made them ask.

Constance huffed and made to leave, but before she could slip out the kitchen door, something caught her eye. She looked down at Lou’s wrists, then up at her impassive expression, then back down again. “What’re those numbers?”

Lou glanced down at her forearm. Those numbers, spiraling down her forearm in an easily overlooked tattoo.

“15, 6, 23, 11,” Constance read aloud. “That from a fortune cookie or something?”

“They’re dates,” Lou said, because the truth was definitely better than the absurd notion that she’d etched her lucky numbers into her skin for eternity.

“Okay. Well there were only three last time I saw it.”

“I added that last one after the Met heist.”

Constance eyed the ink for a moment before meeting her eyes. She folded her arms over her chest, pint-sized and defiant, staring Lou down. “You wanna talk about it?”

Lou sighed and checked her watches again. “Why the hell not?”

“Sweet.” Constant clapped her hands and hopped onto the counter, dangling her legs over the corner. “I like stories.”

“The first one is the day I left home. November 15th, 1990. I’d finally saved up the money for a one-way ticket to Melbourne, worked there for a couple years, and then got another ticket to New York.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Lou ignored her. There was only so much she’d say to Constance. The rest only Debbie knew, and some things weren’t even for her ears. “The second one is the date of my first real hustle. August 6th, 2002. I rigged high stakes blackjack in Atlantic City. Fifty thousand dollar payout.”

Constance whistled.

“Doesn’t compare to a hundred and fifty million, though,” Lou reminded her nonchalantly. “The third one is the day Debbie got out of prison. March 23, 2018. I drove her back to the ballroom loft, and we danced for hours to all the music she’d missed.”

“What’s the newest one?”

“July 11, 2018. I was sitting in a diner in some rest-stop town between Los Angeles and the Valley of Fire. I ordered a Godawful omelet, and I was about to dive into it when a jet black Maserati pulled up. Debbie got out the driver’s seat. I hadn’t heard from her in a month, and I don’t know how she found me, but she sat down across from me in the booth and said, 'I love you to the moon and back, and I'm sorry it took me so damn long.'”

“Awwwww,” Constance crooned. “Damn, I love happy endings.” She hopped off the counter and waved as she marched out the kitchen door. “Cool tattoo. I’m gonna go surfing.”

Lou rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t wipe the friendly little smile from her lips. Constance was a lot some days, but she meant well. She lifted her watch to check the time and—

“Shit.” Only the five AM watch remained.

                                                *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

“Two years,” Tammy sighed in disbelief, shaking her head and sipping from a flute of champagne.

“You can’t do that until we toast,” protested Daphne. “To the second anniversary of me puking my guts out at the fucking Met Gala for thirty eight million and some friends.”

Tammy rolled her eyes spectacularly. “Well we can’t have a proper toast without Amita and Debbie, and I want my champagne.” She turned to Lou (of course she did.) “Where is Debbie; I thought she’d be here by this morning?”

How would she know? Debbie’s ‘on time’ had always been an hour late. Just because they were an item, people seemed to think she’d know where Debbie was at all times. Hah. As if anyone but Debbie decided where Debbie was going.

“Beats me.” Lou sprawled in a sleek adirondeck chair on Daphne’s ocean-view balcony. The party seemed to have gathered around her, everyone present and smelling of sea-salt. Everyone except Debbie, who’d sent a mass text promising she was just picking up hors d’oeuvre and desserts on her way. At the promise of food, no one had complained.

Lou fiddled with her watches. Constance had disappeared yesterday after their conversation in the kitchen, and she’d waited until this morning to demand the return of her second wristwatch.

“Well,” declared Rose, “I would like to be inebriated by the end of the evening, so I’m drinking my champagne.”

“Seconded,” Nine Ball said, and gulped down her flute. ���Debbie and Amita will live.”

Lou held the fizzling glass in her hand. She supposed she would wait for Debbie, not out of moral obligation but because she and Debbie were responsible for the heist that set them all for life, and it seemed fitting to them to drink together. They always drank together, whether they were celebrating, drowning sorrows or making heady love on their sofa while Law & Order reruns droned in the background. It was a tradition, one of the many little things that kept her grounded.

“Gee, thanks for waiting. Knew we could count on you guys.” Debbie’s voice rang through the beach house. Her heels clicked across the floor—apparently, she’d decided tonight was a special occasion worth stilettos and a slick black dress that made Lou do a double take. Both of them laden with grocery bags, Debbie and Amita stepped onto the patio and took in the sight of them all, and their obnoxious excess of wine and Dom Perignon.

“Snoozers are losers,” said Constance, holding up her empty glass.

Debbie fixed Constance with her best (and not particularly intimidating) glare. “I can’t believe you want to be drunk for this.”

Daphne held up her hands in mock surrender. “I withheld for my manners,” but Debbie ignored her.

“Why wouldn’t we want to be drunk?” Nine Ball was half-way through pouring herself a glass of white wine. “Second anniversary of the greatest heist ever executed.”

“Drop the bags and have a drink.” Lou handed Debbie her glass. “You seem tense, darling; did you have a run-in with FoodMart security?”

With a resounding clunk, the bags of food fell beside Debbie’s feet. “Baby, I’m insulted. I bought this food.” She grinned. “Why steal cupcakes when you can steal diamonds?”

Constance let out a “whoop!” of approval and snatched the cupcake bag.

“All right,” said Lou with a Cheshire-cat smile. “I suppose it’s time to toast your brilliance once again.”

Debbie eyed her teasingly. “Oh, that’s what you thought you were toasting to?”

“What the hell else is there? Did you steal another dynasty’s worth of diamonds on the way here?” Honestly, she wouldn’t put it past Debbie Ocean to mark the anniversary of a heist with a plan for a better one.

Debbie grabbed a cupcake and shoved half of it into her mouth. “No,” she mumbled through hot pink frosting, “but we did borrow one of the diamonds we already have.”

A high-pitched gasp came from behind her, and Lou turned to see Daphne cup her hands to her mouth and her eyes grow rounder than quarters. “I thought we sold all the diamonds from the Toussaint,” Lou said suspiciously.

Debbie fished around her sweater pocket. “No—” she grunted, finally shedding the sweater and shoving two hands into the oversized pocket. “I kept one of my share.”

More little gasps of realization, and from Constance and Amita, the sneakiest looks she’d ever seen. “What the hell is—”

She turned back to find Debbie on one knee, with a glamorous, expertly stolen Toussaint diamond in her palm, fitted into the silver band of a ring. Oh. She flashed back to yesterday in the kitchen, Constant grabbing her wrist and pulling the tattoo towards her, keeping her focused on the story, wrapping her thumb around Lou’s ring finger. She must have had a string in her hand, or something to take the size. She remembered Debbie texting them, saying she’d pick up Amita at the airport in LA, stay overnight there, and then drive to the beach house. Shit. She was losing her touch if she hadn’t seen this coming, but it didn’t matter. Not now, when there was Debbie fucking Ocean, proposing to her on the deck of their ex- mark ’s beachside mansion.

“Lou—”

“Jesus. Yes Debs, God yes. I’ll marry you in an instant.”

Debbie’s grin could put the sun out of business. She got to her feet and slid the massive crystal onto Lou’s hand. “I’m overjoyed, but you have to let me finish. You have been my literal partner in crime for fifteen years now. And yes, I was in prison for five of those years, and it took me until I got out to realize I was gone on you, hopelessly, pathetically in love with you, but through everything, you’ve been my one constant. The thought of you kept me sane in the slammer, and you’re the reason I’m not back there right now. You are alive; you’re alive like nobody I’ve ever seen before. You’re vibrant and breathtaking, and ever since you roared into my life on that motorbike I’m never letting you go.”

She was absolutely, positively not going to cry. Lou did not cry. She trembled a little; her eyes glistened, and finally she pulled Debbie forward and kissed her with everything she had. And then she cried, but just barely. (Debbie would be the death of her, and she didn’t mind one bit.)

Debbie sniffled, and Lou couldn’t help but feel like she was holding a bird in her embrace, slight and willowy but immensely powerful.

“Plus,” Debbie added smugly, wrapping her arms around Lou’s shoulders and clinging to her, “the sex is amazing.”

Amita made a face. “Keep it to yourself. But congratulations, I’ve been ready to burst trying to keep this secret, even if it was only for a couple days.”

“Who else knew about this?” Constance asked as she downed another round of champagne. She raised her hand, and Lou let her gaze flick about the crowd. Amita’s hand went up, and then—surprise—Nine Ball.

“Nine Ball?” Debbie seemed surprised as well.

“Your search history gave it all away. A girl doesn’t Google wedding band styles because she’s bored.”

“I knew something fishy was going on when you told us you’d be late, but I thought you were planning another job,” Tammy admitted. “Does this mean we can have a proper toast now?”

“Yes!” Daphne snapped her fingers impatiently and reached for the cooler full of wine. She filled any empty glasses and then raised hers to the sky. “To Lou and Ocean finally getting married. Instead of just acting like it.”

Nine Ball cackled. “Amen.”

“Cheers!” Rose called, clinking a full bottle to everyone’s glasses. A collective silence filled the patio while they paused to drink, excepting the raucous screams of gulls and the crash of waves on the beach.

Watching their team celebrate, Lou tucked a strand of Debbie’s espresso-dark hair behind her ear. “I love you to the moon and back,” she whispered in her ear.

Debbie unsuccessfully suppressed an ear-to-ear smile and slipped her hand into Lou’s. Her thumb brushed the diamond, and Debbie bit her lip as her cheeks flushed warmly. “You’re going soft on me,” she whispered back. A pause. “I love you too.”

The next day, Lou added another number to her tattoo. 15, 6, 23, 11, 9. The 9th of May, 2020, when Debbie Ocean got down on one knee and asked her to be her wife in crime.

[acidwaste]

hey so it seems i’ve forgot to do a l o t of tag memes, and i’m lucky i drafted a big bunch of them! lots of questions overlapped so i did my best to answer in different ways, sorry for the lateness! also @ the people that tagged me here, i wouldn't hesitate to kill for you

@natcaptor / @gayspaced

name: leon or lionel!

nicknames: literally the only nickname I’ve been referred to is “big gay” and like. word!

gender: im pretty sure im a guy, i have been kinda 🤔🤔🤔 abt my gender identity since around november-ish though

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1! i’m told that I’m tall but my uncle is 6’7 so...

time: 3:36pm rn! ive been watching video essays and binging music all afternoon

birthday: december 9th!

favourite bands: animal collective, beach house, camp cope, car seat headrest, death grips, fleet foxes, florence + the machine, gang of youths, glass animals, gorillaz, hop along, iceage, idles, kero kero bonito, mgmt, miike snow, modest mouse, run the jewels, superorganism, the avalanches, the cat empire, the go! team, the mountain goats, the wombats, xiu xiu

favourite solo artists: alex lahey, anderson .paak, ariana grande, billie eilish, bjork, cashmere cat, charli xcx, courtney barnett, cupcakke, d.r.a.m, eric taxxon, frank ocean, gfoty, hatchie, janelle monae, jeff rosenstock, joanna newsom, jorja smith, jpegmafia, kacey musgraves, kali uchis, kendrick lamar, khalid, kimbra, lorde, mac demarco, madeon, mick jenkins, mitski, oneohtrix point never, perfume genius, ravyn lenae, rina sawayama, serpentwithfeet, sophie, st. vincent, sza, vince staples

song stuck in my head: caramelo duro | miguel // kali uchis! its a bop, miguel is one of the few singers that can convincingly make sex jams

last movie i watched: deadpool 2! it was even better than the first, which is a feat in itself ngl

when did i create my blog: december 2016??? i only started using it properly in february last year tho

last thing i googled: “im in my mums car broom broom.” dont @ me

do i have any other blogs: yeah, plenty actually!! i have blogs for aesthetic (@moltenstar), general inspo (@wverns), flight rising (@szarising, kinda inactive?), and overwatch (@blackhardts) tbh the vast majority of my ‘sideblogs’ are just saved urls H

do i get asks: when i say stupid shit like “rung has the ass of a dilf but the dick of a cockroach”

why i chose my url: that one panel where kobd have a vacation at the acid wastes because fuck its finally canon babey!

following: 1,767, which is kinda horrifying!!

followers: 890?? somehow??? thats almost One Whole Thousand and i don't even make content

average hours of sleep: around 6 or 7!! n e v e r more though

lucky number: 43 and 64!!

instruments: i'm too poor to afford music lessons or instruments jsbddsjknfs

what am i wearing: a grey shirt and nothing on my bottom half so my [redacted] is hanging tf out, i should put on some damn clothes

dream job:  oooo uhhh, i’m studying to get an education degree rn because i’d love to teach children (around grade 3-4s preferably because i'm too jittery to handle anyone younger and older kids probs won't listen to me as much as i lack plenty of assertiveness), but!! i’d honestly love to be a musician, one of those underground ones that get lots of critical acclaim

dream trip: one day i wanna gather up some friends and just go on a road trip! idm where we go to, as long as we just have fun and just! adventure!

favourite foods: rare steak, mashed potatoes, eggs, and energy shakes made with like. fruit / cheese / yoghurt / oats / chia seeds ! protein is a large part of my diet

nationality: new zealand, but living in australia

favourite song right now: best part | daniel caesar // h.e.r - gosh i need to re-listen to daniel’s album again, i don’t remember this beautiful song being there and that’s a crime

@damndesi / @novarebel / @luciform-philogynist

APPEARANCE - I am 5'7 or taller - I wear glasses - I have at least one tattoo (but I am getting a tā moko in December, I believe) - I have at least one piercing (planning to get a nose ring, like a bull!) - I have blonde hair - I have brown eyes - I have short hair - My abs are at least somewhat defined (b a r e l y) - I have or had braces

PERSONALITY - I love meeting new people - People tell me I am funny - Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine - I enjoy physical challenges - I enjoy mental challenges - I am playfully rude to people I know - I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it - There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY - I can sing well - I can play an instrument - I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (barely) - I am a fast runner - I can draw well - I have a good memory - I am good at doing math in my head - I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute - I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling - I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch - I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES - I enjoy sports - I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else - I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else - I have learned a new song in the past week - I exercise at least once a week - I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months - I have drawn something in the past month - I enjoy writing - Fandoms are my #1 priority - I do some form of Martial arts

EXPERIENCES - I have had my first kiss - I have had alcohol (tastes like shit) - I have scored a winning point in a sport - I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting - I have been at an overnight event - I have been in a taxi - I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year - I have beaten a video game in one day - I have visited another country - I have been to one of my favorite bands concerts

MY LIFE - I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend - I live relatively close to my school/work - My parents are still together - I have at least one sibling - I live in the United States - There is snow where I live right now - I have hung out with a friend in the past month - I have a smart phone - I own at least 15 CDs - I share my room with someone

RELATIONSHIPS - I am in a Relationship - I have a crush on a celebrity - I have a crush on someone I know - I’ve been in at least 3 relationships - I have never been in a Relationship - I have admitted my feelings to a crush - I get crushes easily - I have had a crush for over a year - I have been in a relationship for over a year - I have had feelings for a friend

RANDOM - I have break-danced - I know a person named Jamie - I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce - I have dyed my hair - I’m listening to a song on repeat right now - I have punched someone in the past week - I know someone who has gone to jail - I have broken a bone (do fractures count?) - I have eaten a waffle today - I know what I want to do in life - I speak at least two languages (not fluently) - I have made a new friend in the past year

@smstransformers

age: 16

birthplace: auckland, nz

current time: 4:19 pm rn!!!

drink you last had: i just skulled half a liter of water whoops

favourite song: jesus etc. | wilco if we're talking abt an all-time favourite

grossest memory: accidentally swallowing a bee when i was seven years old (somehow nothing bad happened?)

horror, yes or no: not unless it’s an incredibly tame horror t b h, my threshold for scariness is very low

in love: i believe so!

jealous of people: lots of times, over really dumb things

love by first sight or should I walk by again: i believe that infatuation can exist at first sight but true love not so much. wish that could happen tho :C

middle name: shane!

siblings: my sister is eight years old, and my brother is seven!

one wish: EZ, make my anxiety disappear, i’d have a much more productive life

song i last sang: jupiter | haiku hands

time i woke up: 7:13, woke up immediately because i usually like to wake at 6:30

underwear colour: blue + purble

vacation destination: auckland / kingston / sydney!

worst habit: not remembering to make my goddamn bed, it looks like garbage

favourite food: mashed potatoes….

zodiac sign: sagittarius !!!

@alyonian

relationship status:

at the moment i’m single! and while being in a relationship sounds brilliant, the last two relationships i was involved in? didn’t work out to say the least, lucky i’m still young

favourite colour:

it’s been emerald green for the longest time but orange seems to be dethroning it at a steady pace

lipstick or chapstick:

i haven’t used chapstick since i was six but i probably should use it again, water is my substitute rn fdghdgh - and i haven’t ever used lipstick in any capacity? so i’d have to go with the former

last song i listened to:

the space traveller’s lullaby | kamasi washington - i’m trying to get through his second album rn (i left off on the second disk yesterday) and while everything he makes is undeniably amazing, it’s? a three hour album? i don’t have the attention span for his spiritual jazz, as great as it is

last movie:

monsters inc is playing on the television right now, i’ll go with that! the animation aged kinda badly but it’s still such a fun movie! sidenote: james p. sullivan? a childhood crush, so this gives me memories

top 3 tv shows/podcasts/comics:

i rarely, if ever, venture into these forms of media but! if i had to answer, i’d say;

unbreakable kimmy schmidt / parks & recreation / luke cage

taz / mbmbam (i havent like. watched a full episode of either but they seem cool,)

tf idw / …………. yeah that’s it, i’ve never read anything else. probably should!

additional favs:

my friends, writing (in theory), listening to video essays, learning music theory + instruments and understanding audio production software

top 3 bands / artists:

HHH okay if i had to limit my choices to just three artists, uh. lorde, the mountain goats, and sophie. i couldnt even fit janelle in i hate th is

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

@alyonian

color(s): light colors are always nice and pleasant, though anything peachy and sandy are the best! orange (specially pastel orange) is like. the best thing

last band t-shirt i bought: usually merchandising is very expensive and i dont have the money to accommodate that, but like. i do recall having a wiggles shirt when i was five. i wore it all the time, shjdjgsksd im sure that counts

last band i saw live: i almost went to splendor in the grass last year with family, which wasn't only cool since i’ve never been out of the state since i immigrated - the festival was in queensland, which is around a two hour flight from victoria - but the lineup was pretty fuckin lit too! the xx, haim, peking duk, tash sultana, future islands, vallis alps, a.b original,, i was p excited! unfortunately my uncle fell ill and so they had to give the tickets to extended family :( otherwise, i haven't been to a single concert in my life

last song i listened to: street fighter mas | kamasi washington - up to this song on the album and i really fuckin dig this! also the video is hypnotizing

last movie i watched: monsters inc is about to finish and up next is monsters university! which like…. honestly, this is an extremely unpopular opinion but, i like it just as much as the original? my opinion might be skewed because i’m a monster [hugger], but i like everything abt the movie! except for the finale of the scare games and the last five minutes of the movie, both were just. dreadful.

last three tv shows i watched: if aggretsuko counts that’s the last series i watched of my own volition, which is a miracle in itself considering that’s legit only the second anime i’ve watched to completion (the first being shirokuma cafe, which i probably need to re-watch). otherwise, the last two shows i had beared witness to were thirteen reasons why and queer eye bc my cousin put them on! that first show i could completely do without but queer eye is iconique

last 3 characters i identified with: grimlock (legit. all of them), urdnot grunt (mass effect) and vector the crocodile (sth), i’m not sure what this says about me other than Big

book(s) i’m currently reading: i’m reading ‘maus’ by art spiegelman at the moment, for the third time i believe? i believe my classmates are supposed to be writing an essay on this next term and shit, this novel is heartbreaking, i haven't been this emotional when reading a book than… ever, really. it’s a recommendation of the highest caliber

@victorion

name: leon / lionel, i picked up the second name because i was in a server with an admin that was also a Leon™

nickname: besides ‘Big Gay’ i also have the nickname ‘lemon lion’ which is! nice!!

zodiac sign: archer man

height: Tall™

language(s) spoken: english / some maori + italian

fav fruit: watermelons (only when in season)

fav scent: the smell of a freezer tbh? it just smells Nice i don’t know how to properly explain it

fav season: spring! the breezes are welcoming without being overbearingly freezing

fav color: ornge,,,,

fav animal: SHARKS + CROCS + FERRETS

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea! with some milk tho

average hrs of sleep: too little

fav fictional character: One character?????? uhhhhhhh……. like. biggest cc right now is either idw skids or oz from monster prom

no. of blankets you sleep with: depending on my mood but i’d say the average is like, 3??

fav songs: i quickly whipped up some songs i listen to

fav artists: i came to the realization that i like acts that are considered ‘bad’ like maroon 5/drake/lil yachty etc in specific doses… i wouldn't call them good yet, but! i have no beef and thats good

fav books: remember ‘where the wild things are’??? that shit was like. literal childhood, man.. :happytears: i really need to look for a copy again

@thonany-klieme

name: leon / lionel, interchangeable really

gender: male, im probs an nb guy

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1

sexuality: gay??? im not sure, im mostly attracted to other guys but i have had very brief crushes on girls + nb people? sexuality’s confusing so im gonna just latch to the gaybel (gay label) for now

lock screen image: its the album cover of 1992 deluxe by princess nokia, tho it was “T Hanos” a few days ago since i change it often - my home screen is venom but his torso says ‘fuck machine’

ever had a crush on a teacher: no??

where do you see yourself in ten years: ideally i’m teaching kids math n english, realistically i’m probably going down with the political climate

if you could go anywhere, where would you go: new zealand!! or the netherlands

what was your favorite halloween costume: halloween is not big at all where i live, the only time i tried trick or treating was when i was like 7?? i threw a bedsheet on myself and pretended to be a ghost, though since there were no eyeholes + the sheet was blue, it looked more like i was just a moving lump

last kiss: never had one

have you ever been to las vegas: nah and i dont plan to?? how do you handle regular days of 40C wtf

favorite pair of shoes: i have this pair of jandals that ive worn for a fair bit longer than my other pair of shoes, tho i only wear them in summer + very warm nights

favorite book: ngl its. ‘the very hungry caterpillar’ by eric carle. i just, love it alot and i cant explain w h y

[jazzyhazzy]

Hold On - Chapter Five

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

How on earth-

He tries to push his way past me into the flat but I step in front of him an block his entrance. Harry is only metres away brushing his teeth in my bathroom, I don’t want him to know about my epically stupid ex right now.

“I think the more appropriate question, is what the fuck are you doing here!?” I hiss at him, my face dark. 

Since meeting Harry, my attention has been focused on him, primarily. I haven’t taken the time to talk to him everyday like I usually would, but I never thought he would care about it this much. “You haven’t been replying to me, I had no idea where you were” he growls, and not in the hot and saucy way that Harry growls at me, this was a angry, crazy kind of growl.

“Jax, it’s literally none of your business where I am and what I do, now can you get out?” I plead. I’m not really the strongest most confident of people, if he’d have shown up on my doorstep like this last week, I would not have hesitated to let him in. I would have desperately tried to prolong his visit, savouring the time spent in his company. 

However, these past couple of days have been a real eye-opener for me, as pathetic as a couple of days sounds, something about Harry has made me feel like my old self again. He made me feel something I never thought I’d feel again, wanted.

“Okay, tell me where you’ve been-”

“You have a girlfriend, does she know where you are right now?” I cut him off, because honestly, what the fuck is he even doing here? He’s constantly acted like my friendship is a burden to him lately, and has been totally disinterested, and now that Harry has come along...

“Don’t talk about her” he snaps, his face clouding over like a raging storm. 

He needs to get the hell away from here, before  someone does something stupid. It’ll most likely be me. 

Looking at him now, I can’t believe I loved that face, twisted in anger at his lack of control over me. It’s true, he’s been holding onto me all of this time like a sad, pitiful backup girl, taking advantage of my feelings for him, while he flounces around with his new girlfriend, who obviously doesn't know that he’s standing on my doorstep demanding I tell him my every movement for the day.

“Just go home, we’ll talk tomorrow” I offer, trying to remain calm, the last thing I need is a scene, right now, I’m exhausted and kinda fucking disappointed that he’s just shown up and ruined my perfect day.

“He’s here right now, isn’t he?” Jax presses, making another attempt to storm past me. What the hell has gotten into him? I never thought I would wish that he went back to caring less, but in this moment I find myself wishing he would disappear and never care about me again. 

“It’s. None. Of. Your. God. Damn. Business.” I spell it out for him, quickly growing sick of his games. I use my hand and place it against his chest, pushing him out of my doorframe. I had forgotten how big and tall he was, I had forgotten the familiar feeling of his frame on top of me...

I shake my head, shooing away the ugly thoughts, trying to replace them with ones of Harry.

“Go home to your girlfriend” I spit at him, slamming the door in his face and throwing the lock and the chain for good measure. I breathe heavily and lean against the wall next to the door and feel myself slowly slip down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest and focusing on my breathing. 

For someone to have so much power and pull over me after all this time - it’s embarrassing. But for me to push away that person, after all of this time pining after him, wanting him even though he has a girlfriend... Well that’s something else. 

What if I’ve just ruined everything with him, all this time I’ve put effort into  him, into our so-called ‘friendship’ I held back from ever moving on because of him. Even when he starting going out with his new girlfriend, I never took it seriously, always said it wouldn't last. But that’s beside the point entirely. I should have stopped talking to him as soon as he broke my heart and took every last shred of happiness I had. I shouldn’t have relied on him for comfort throughout our breakup, how could I have been so stupid all this time?

All he wants to do is keep me close, just in case. I can’t devote my whole life to him anymore, it has been long enough, I need to pick myself up and dust myself off and get back out there. I’m finally feeling like I can start being my old self again, and spending this time with Harry is making me feel like I can potentially be happy in myself again. 

I know my issues won't go away overnight, they can’t be kissed away by his plump pink lips, but he’s damn sure sparked something within me. 

Speaking of the devil, he crouches down in front of me, offering a small lopsided smile.

“Bed time?” he asks, and I look up at him and take him all in. He must have some questions, but he refrains from asking, holding out his hand and watching my hand slip into his, he squeezes tight, and pulls me up with him, leading the way to my bedroom and flicking the lights off as we go. 

He pulls his shirt over his head and slips out of his shorts until he’s just in his briefs, and he slips into bed, shuffling over to the other side to make room for me to slide in beside him. 

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, and sigh. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks softly, laying on his side, facing me. His knuckle reaches out to stroke my cheek and I turn to him and nod, taking the opportunity to roll over into his arms while he’s still so close. 

Knowing he will be gone in just a matter of days isn't something I wish to think about right now, my eyes heavy and my body weak with fatigue. Harry wraps his arms around me and holds me against his chest, kissing my forehead. “Thank you, for today” he murmurs.

“S’okay” I whisper back, the sound of sleep in my voice. 

“You’re right, you know” I add, unable to hide the small smile that creeps onto my face. My worries forgotten as I’m wrapped up in Harry. 

“Hmm?” he nuzzles his head into my shoulder and I can feel his warm breathing on my skin, it makes the hairs stand all over my body. He’s so close.

“I  do want to fuck you”

His triumphant chuckles are the last thing I hear before I drift off, feeling such a wave of utter contempt.

***

The following day, we spend apart, I can’t help but miss his warm presence a little after yesterday, and the past three nights spend wrapped up in each others arms. His heavenly kisses that he peppered on my face to wake me up, I can still feel them there. 

We parted ways after a quick breakfast. He had some things to do, primarily get some clothes from his hotel and attend some important sounding meetings, and spend some time with a friend who is over here, but he promised he’d be back for dinner and cuddles. He kissed me quickly before he left, in the way that you’s kiss your wife before leaving for work everyday. 

I have to constantly remind myself that I’ve only known him for a few days, and we are not together. For loss of a better explanation, it’s like I’m on a vacation from my normal life, he’s like a whole change of scenery, without actually leaving home. 

First order of business for me is to have lunch with my girls, Lydia insisting that she hasn't seen me for years (just over 36 hours) and I just know she is going to be desperate to find out more about Harry. She doesn't like to be kept out of the loop. I figured I should probably mention Jax showing up on my doorstep as well, they’ll love that. 

We meet at our usual spot, all doing the rounds, making sure we all hug each other before taking our seats. 

Lydia doesn’t hesitate to get straight into it, “So Rubes, how’s the boy?”

I groan and roll my eyes, half of me wishing we could at least have a bit of normal conversation first, but the other half of me also just dying to tell them all about him.

“He’s good” I try to play it cool, like its not a big deal that I’m finally allowing some male attention into my life from someone other than Jax. They were all super supportive of me when he broke things off, but it was a long time ago now, and after a while people stop caring after a couple of weeks, they stop asking how you’re doing after a couple of months, and start convincing you to ‘get back on the horse’ and ‘get some vitamin D girl’ when really I needed them to slap some sense into me and stop me from talking to him altogether. 

Hettie pipes up, clueless as per “Huh? Wait. What? You have a boy?” 

“NO!” I almost yell. “He’s not my boy, he’s just... well, just a guy I met in a club I guess.” I try and explain, but it doesn't feel like I’m giving it any justice.

Lydia swoops in again, “He stayed over” 

I roll my eyes at her again, giving everything away. “He has the past few nights actually” I look down at my coffee and take a sip, avoiding eye contact. Ava almost chokes on her drink, Lydia squeals and Hettie lightly slaps a hand on the table.

“You sex machine, you” Hettie whispers at me, elbowing me and wiggling her eyebrows. 

If only she knew how much I wish it were true. “No sex yet...” I shake my head, finding it funny that he is the one holding back every time, when it should be me, being damaged goods and all.

“So what do you do?” Lydia asks, confused. She only ever gets with guys for sex, so I guess I can see why it’s difficult for her to wrap her head around the fact that maybe two people can just cuddle and talk and not always have sex. 

“We just cuddle, I guess... and talk...” I leave out the part about how he sleeps better with me than he ever has in his life, feeling it too personal to share. “Is he hot? What’s his name? Is he form here?” I get bombarded with questions, and I guess I should have expected it, it’s been a while since I’ve been with someone, and they’re all a bit excited for me, which is a lovely feeling. It’s good to be the one answering the questions about a boy, rather than asking them. 

“Uhhh, he’s probably the most attractive creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon to be fairly honest with you, his name is Harry and he’s from somewhere in the UK I think” reminding myself to ask him exactly where he is from when I see him tonight.

I’m seeing him tonight, I smile inwardly at the thought, wondering what he’s doing right now.

“A British boy, tasty” Hettie marvels.

“He leaves on Friday, so you probably won't get to meet him” I sigh, my shoulders drooping at the thought of never seeing him again. 

They all frown at me, disappointed. All this time, and now that I have a guy to talk about, he’ll be gone by the end of the week. 

***

I spend the rest of the afternoon pottering around the flat, tidying up and baking some cookies, loving the smell of them that fills the kitchen and seeps out into the lounge as I flop down onto the couch and pick up my book from the coffee table, flicking to the page where I last left off. 

I barely get through the first few sentences before my phone rings. I fish it out of my pocket and groan in annoyance, as I see Jax’s name pop up on the screen. I debate not answering and letting it go to voicemail, but he’d probably just show up on my doorstep again.

“Hello” I answer, trying to make my voice accurately reflect just how annoyed I am. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, casually, as if he didn’t show up like a crazy person banging on my door last night. 

“What do you want?” I ask him bluntly, not really interested in chit chat. Or rather, shit chat.

“Wow, rude. You wanna tell me why you haven't been replying these past few days?” he demands, more than asks. 

When did he get so controlling? Or has he always been like this and I’ve just never noticed because I was seeing him through rose-tinted glasses? 

“We don’t have to talk every day... you literally always say that to me” I remind him, smug to be using his own words against him. 

“Yeah but-”

“But what? That only applies to when you don’t want to talk? Am I not allowed a break from you?” 

“Not when you’re galavanting around with some random guy you met in a club” he snaps. 

“Last time I checked, I’m single and can do whatever the fuck I want, without it being any of your business.” I say, my tone biting. 

“He’s clearly just using you, you’ll see.” Jax tells me, darkly, before hanging up the phone. 

As much as I know I shouldn't listen to what he says, I can’t help but worry that maybe he is right about that. What if Harry is just using me? What if I’m just a girl to fill in the time? A girl to keep the other side of the bed warm while he’s so far away from home? How many other girls have there been?

I mean, really. I’m probably the most easy, boring person he could find, and yeah I’m not hideous, but I’m not exactly anything to write home about either. I’m nothing memorable, I certainly won't be stuck in his head long after he’s gone. 

Sighing, I throw my phone across the room and slump down further into the couch, hugging a cushion to my chest and squeezing my eyes shut, willing sleep to take over so I won’t have to sit here with my stupid, ugly thoughts. 

Jax is probably right, although I wish he wasn't... Theres no way that anything can come from this situation with Harry anyway, I mean, he lives on the other side of the world. Not to mention he’s a musician, popular from what I’ve heard, if he’s on the radio and touring over here, then he must be globally known. He most likely leads a super hectic, busy life, so what would he want with someone like me, when there are girls most likely flinging themselves at him from all directions. 

I’m just someone to pass the time with, I guess.

Now I wish I hadn’t told the girls about him at all, what’s the point when nothing will come of it? Before I know it, the whole week with him will all just be a memory. Maybe I should just stop seeing him now, before I get more attached, it can’t be good for me. 

I nod off for what I intend to be only 20 minutes, but am woken by the sound of someone pounding on my door. It’s dark outside, how long did I sleep for?

“OPEN THE DOOR!” Harry yells urgency from the other side, and I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up, contemplating whether I should pretend I’m not home so he goes away and I can wallow in my self pity. But I’m a weak ass human being and his company is too enjoyable to refuse, even if it will hurt me more in the long run. 

I drag my feet as I go to the door, still feeling half asleep and groggy, my skin burning from all the sun exposure yesterday. I look a right state.

“I need a wee!” he exclaims loudly, kissing me sloppily on the cheek before darting past me into the bathroom, a huge sigh of relief echoes throughout the entire flat and I can’t help but grin at him.

I wait for him in the kitchen, helping myself to one of my freshly baked cookies and having a look in the fridge for something to make for dinner. Sadly, the fridge is looking extremely disappointing, and I’m not sure if going out for dinner is even an option with him. 

The cookie melts in my mouth, it’s chewy and delicious and I’ve definitely succeeded with this batch. Harry joins me in the kitchen and instantly spots the cookie in my hand, bounding over and taking a huge bite out of it before I can even protest. “Hey!” I whine, 90% of my cookie gone. “Hey back” he smiles, helping himself to another cookie on the bench and leaning against the counter.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans - in the middle of a record hot summer - and a black shirt, but he’s decided to sex it up by leaving half the damn buttons undone and rolled up the sleeves. His tattoo’s poke out by his chest and I catch myself staring at them again. Maybe I do want to go and get a tattoo at some point, I’ve always wanted one, but something has been holding me back. 

“Fuck, Ruby” he moans, tipping his head back and closing his eyes in satisfaction, it takes me a moment to work out that it’s a reaction to the cookies, and I smile, pleased with myself. “You like?” 

“I loveeeeee” he drags out the word, still chewing with his eyes closed and even swaying a little. “Have as many as you like, I’ve got nothing here for tea so cookies it is” I laugh, helping myself to another one. 

“Let’s order a Chinese” he suggests, opening his eyes to the world again, and directing them at me. Shit, every time his fucking face looks at me I want to punch it because it’s so beautiful. “Sure, theres a good place down the road, I can do a phone order and walk down to grab it” I offer, feeling like some fresh air would do me good anyway, and it wasn't far to go. 

He nods, liking the idea. Harry reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me over so I’m stood in front of him, my head having to tilt back so I can look up at his face as he wraps his arms loosely around my waist. The contact is all so easy, and feels so natural. “What did you get up to today, Miss Whittaker” he questions, twirling me around and lifting me up so I’m sitting on the kitchen bench, his hips between my legs. 

“Hmmmm I went to catch up with my girls...” I trail off, trying to remember my train of thought as he lowers his lips to my shoulder, laying hot, wet kisses across my skin. “Tell me about it” he mutters, continuing to pepper kisses across my collarbone. 

“Weeeeee had lunch...” I elude, my stomach twisting sharply in anticipation. “What did you order?” he asks, his kisses moving to my next, and I become putty in his giant hands, my head tilting back and my fingers involuntarily tangling themselves into his hair. 

“S-salad... Caesar salad” I choke out, trying to suppress the moan or whimper that is inevitably going to leave my lips if he continues this madness.

What insecurities?

What crazy ex?

The only thing I can see, hear, feel... is Harry.

“Did you tell your friends about me?”

I nod, not knowing if I should elaborate or not, but his willingness to torture me like this tells me he is going to push the question further. He’s relentless against my neck, gently sucking, nipping, licking. I can feel myself falling apart before him, and he’s barely doing anything. 

“What did you say?” he speaks, and his breath against my wet skin makes my hair stand on end and I shiver against him. I can feel the stupid fucker smiling against my skin, as he continues to torment me with his mouth. 

“I said y-you’re...” I can’t finish, my breath caught in my throat.

“I’m... what?” he presses, his arms around my waist pulling me tight against his chest. 

“Fuck- you’re the most attractive creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon” I blurt out, not even thinking that I’m just totally fucking embarrassing myself in front of him, he pulls back and stares down at me, smirking. 

Shit, I’ve fucked up. He’s going to think I’m a freak, why the hell couldn't I have played it cool, rather than telling him that.

“That’s what you said?” his mouth lopsided from that stupid, sexy smile. I nod, my cheeks burning. 

“Do you really think that?” I can hear the smile in his smug voice. “Of course” I admit, unable to meet his eyes with my own, I can’t exactly lie, it would be written all over my face.

He hums, hooking a finger under my chin and forcing me to look at him properly. How could I ever lie about that? I just have to look at him to know that I don’t think I’ll ever come across anyone more beautiful. 

“I’d say the same about you, Ruby Tuesday” he utters, leaning in to kiss me, but he doesn't quite make it, because I humiliate myself, ruining the moment by snorting at his response and laughing in his face, cracking up at how ridiculous.

“What!?” he wails, throwing his arms up in the air, exasperated. 

“That is not true at all” I shake my head.

“It fucking is” he growls, grabbing my hips and kissing me hard, pulling away again before I can even respond. “Now order me some Chinese before I end up fucking you on the kitchen floor.”

[theeurekaproject]

Conscientia

On the highest levels of Eleutheria, she could see the sky.

It wasn't the real sky, of course. The true, unaltered sky was a haze of gray fog and poisonous mist; if she breathed in the real sky, she'd probably screw up her cells so much she'd have cancer on top of her cancer. The truth was ugly and dangerous, so they'd covered it all with a strange mixture of forcefields and computer-generated images of blue split occasionally by fluffy white cumulus clouds from which rain never fell. Ordinarily, the smog and grime of the lower levels permeated the atmosphere so much that it was hard to even see through the thick, smoky air, but Alestra, of course, would have none of that for her precious lungs.

Carina sighed. She didn't know why she was so angry at Alestra; she'd never offended her personally. She was scary and intimidating and almost creepily beautiful, but that was true for all Imperatrices—supposedly. Of course, the latest coronation was the first exchange of power Carina had been alive to see; Imperatrix Harmonia Cassia died long before she was born.

Maybe she was just nervous. That was it—she was anxious and lashing out. She didn't hate Alestra. Who hated Alestra? Everyone loved her. They had to, or they'd wake up in a gulag somewhere on the other side of the world.

The hall where she was led was large and empty, all quartz and marble carved into intricate designs, entwined with precious gems and metals to create priceless artwork. At the very end was the coat of arms of house Cipher, a white shield with silver charges of plasmids and ancient, spiky trefoil runes. A silver chief topped the shield; Aleskynn said it stood for "domination of will," but Carina assumed she was just making things up. She did that a lot. The Imperial tiara that Acidalia had been crowned with stood atop the shield as a coronet, and the helmet from the uniform of a high-ranking TB-branch soldier made a helm. In a messy script, taken from the writings of Katherine herself, read "Igne natura renovatur integra," the motto of the royal house. Through fire, nature is reborn whole.

Carina's thoughts were abruptly pulled back to Alestra screaming that motto in her most recent propaganda series as she brandished an oddly elegant automatic weapon. She shoved the thought deep down back in her brain, where it belonged, and continued walking.

They turned a corner, and the Ministratoras stopped, their double helix insignias glimmering under the harsh white light. The corridor was entirely empty for a moment, then a small, pale figure bounded out of the shadows.

"Hey," Aleskynn said. "Wanna hang out?"

A burst of anger flashed through Carina's mind. "That's why I'm here? You just got bored?!"

Aleskynn blew a bubble of gum, then popped it. It stuck to her shiny pink lips. "Um, yeah?"

Carina sighed. "Leski, I have a job. I can't just randomly disappear, I won't get paid. And I kind of need that money. I have to pay rent."

"Rent on what?"

"My apartment," Carina said, knowing the concept of rent was as foreign to Aleskynn as aliens from outer space. She had probably heard vaguely of the idea, but she had no reason to dwell on it; that was everyone else's job. "And train tickets cost money, and so does food and clothing, and I have to bring my own PPE," Carina continued.

"Never mind, I'm sorry I asked. This conversation is boring me," Aleskynn snapped. She turned to the Ministratoras and dismissed them with an irritated "you can leave now."

Carina took a deep breath and resigned herself to a very long, wasted afternoon.

Aleskynn set off down the hallway, her clear plastic court shoes clacking loudly on the pristine marble floor. "Anyway, Velia, Hera, Amelyx, and Raveri are all busy, and all my other ladies in waiting are so boring. I mean, you aren't exactly exciting, either, but like, you don't have a clue about makeup or hair, clearly, and I am so sick of hearing about that."

"Thanks," Carina said, knowing Aleskynn wasn't listening well enough to pick up on the sarcasm.

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm about to literally lose my mind, like actually, because people just won't shut the hell up about my bastard sister, which is total bullshit because it's not even her throne, it's mine. I mean, I guess technically not… but that's a technicality, which basically means it's not even real. With every other monarchy in history, the oldest legitimate kid gets primogenitum, right?"

"I'm pretty sure most historical monarchies gave primogenitum to the eldest son," Carina said.

"Well, I don't have a brother," Aleskynn shrugged, "or at least, not a legitimate one. Besides, most historical monarchies only gave stuff to men 'cause they didn't have the military prowess we have. If the men are off ruling the country, how can they be fighting a war, right?"

"Right." Carina decided it was probably best not to mention that the people who led the country were generally the same people who led the military campaigns. Aleskynn had probably never even laid her precious gaze upon something as uncouth as a set of fatigues.

"My point is that all of this is totally unfair," Aleskynn whined, kicking at a flowerpot that held strange, bright, fluorescent roses. It cracked when it hit the ground, sending a spray of dirt and neon fluid into the air. "That throne should belong to me."

"What would you even do if you had the throne?" Carina asked. "A, you're not twenty yet, so you'd be led by your mother acting as regent anyway. And B, you hate responsibility. Why do you want it that badly?"

"For starters, my mom is co-empress anyway, that's how it works. Rule of two." She rolled her eyes like it should have been obvious. "A mix of new and old blood, the splitting of power, a backup for the empress—it's in the rule book. Who cares if she's acting regent or co-Imperatrix? It's pretty much the same, and she lets me do basically whatever anyway. As far as responsibility goes, isn't that what advisors and ladies in waiting are for?"

"Sure, but you'd still have to be a figurehead—"

"I can do that. I'm gorgeous." She batted her eyelashes, smiling. Her bright pink lip gloss glistened under the buzzing white lights.

"Yeah," Carina sighed. "You'd be good at that."

"Much better than Acidalia," Aleskynn added, rolling her eyes again. "I don't get what's so damn special about her. Whatever. When she dies I'll have her throne anyway, and then the working class can lick my boots and fawn over how 'relatable' and 'special' and 'interesting' and 'unique' I am, too. As if their opinion even matters."

"What, does the working class really like her or something? I'm sorry, I don't keep up very well with politics." Truth be told, it wasn't really that Carina didn't keep up with politics—it was more that Alestra's regime was notoriously difficult to get any information on, and most of the news reports were inferences pieced together by bored gossip columnists who cared more about whether Alestra was wearing silver or white gold than about her actual policies. If they did report on anything political, discerning what was true and what was a result of a biased agenda was tough, sometimes impossible. Alestra liked it that way, so nobody had ever bothered to tighten the restrictions on what could be considered 'news.'

"Yeah, all the Cantatores and Laborum just love her. It fits, I guess. She really is one of them." Aleskynn made a disgusted face. "Can you imagine? A half-bred bastard on the throne? I can't wait until someone assassinates her. Like, I'm legit counting down the minutes."

"Why, is something going to happen?" Alarms suddenly flashed through Carina's mind. She didn't know Acidalia very well, but if she was at all better than Alestra, Carina didn't particularly want her dead.

Aleskynn snorted. "Trust me. It's not a matter of if it'll happen, it's when. Everyone in the court thinks she's making a mockery out of house Cipher, which honestly, she is, and our mother hates her guts." Carina probably should have found it difficult to fathom hating one's own child, but if there was anyone who could say they wanted to murder their own daughter and be taken seriously, it was Alestra Cipher. She almost shuddered, picturing her icy blue eyes staring down the body of a long-range laser pistol, her white gown stained with blood like a demented Osiria rose. It was an image that was all too easy to envision—they'd put up similar pictures as propaganda more than once, whenever some new plot was uncovered or some politician said something stupid that offended the Cipher matriarch.

"I wish it'd just happen already," Aleskynn continued to whine, playing with a curl that had fallen out of her updo. "Everyone just keeps talking about it. And it's like, why the hell do you keep complaining about Acidalia? Can we just shoot her in the face and be done with this whole ridiculous thing? It's my first year as a teenager and it's like nobody even cares because stupid Acidalia is being crowned. You know what my mother said to me yesterday?"

"What?" Carina asked, not entirely wanting to know the answer.

"So I saw this girl on TV," Aleskynn began, "and she just had an amazing voice. Like, just amazing. She was so good. And everyone paid attention to her—what did they call her, an idol? So I decided, I want to be an idol."

"Like, an idol singer? But you don't sing."

"Exactly! So I told my mother to get me a singing career, since clearly I can't hold one on my own," Aleskynn said. "You know, she has so many friends who have ties to the music industry. They could make me a superstar literally overnight, and I would barely even need vocal cord surgery or voice-enhancing sound effects. Hell, I bet I wouldn't even have to sing. They'd just have someone do it for me. But you know what she said?"

"What'd she say?"

"'Not now, Leski.' That's what she said!" Aleskynn stomped her foot. "Isn't that such bullshit?!"

Carina thought momentarily, god, I wish I lived in your world. The idea that one could become a pop sensation in one day with zero talent just because their family knew someone was entrancing. This world of giant palaces and fifty-car garages and family trees stretching back to the early 2000s seemed as glamorous as life could get. Then she remembered that, according to Aleskynn, people were already conspiring to assassinate Acidalia because her mere existence annoyed them, and then being a middle-class astrophysicist didn't seem quite as bad.

"And this isn't even the first time," Aleskynn continued. "You know how many times someone's told me to 'wait' because they were busy preparing for Acidalia's coronation? Those preparations took months, and it was all for a ceremony that was over in one day, for a woman whose reign will be over in one week!"

"A week?" Carina asked.

Aleskynn scoffed. "If she's lucky." Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Listen, I'm not really supposed to tell you this, but house Generalis thinks she'll be dead two days from now. And Raveri's mom says if house Generalis doesn't do it, house Vulgaris will put a knife through her chest by the day after. When I say nobody likes her, I mean it."

Carina's mouth went dry. "What?"

"Shhh! You don't want her to hear. She could be around literally any corner!" Aleskynn pulled Carina away from the nearest doorway. "But yeah. Did you really think people would stand for this? They don't want some Martian-born whore wearing the crown. They'll just kill her and put the blame on someone else, just like they put the blame on that AX soldier."

"They can't just—"

"Oh, they absolutely can." Aleskynn smiled. "And wait until you see the celebration when it happens. You thought the coronation was big?"

"But… I don't understand." As much as Eleutherian nobility disliked Martians, especially half-Martians, and as reluctant as they were to break the precedent of war heroes' daughters inheriting the throne, she couldn't envision a world in which nearly everyone was willing to risk the empire's stability by assassinating the Imperatrix. Even if they didn't like or agree with her, there were ways to pull strings to get leaders to do what you wanted—there had to be.

Why would every noble house suddenly decide that Acidalia Cipher must die?

Carina racked her mind for reasons why people would hate Acidalia as much as they did. She was Martian, she was illegitimate, and she didn't get along with Alestra, which were all important factors. But were they important enough to warrant this type of response? The noble houses had never done anything so coordinated together. Under any normal circumstances, house Vulgaris would sell out house Generalis immediately so they could get brownie points from the Imperatrix. Never before had they worked as one like this.

But there was one reason Carina could think of, something more political than mere genetic differences and complicated mother-daughter relationships.

"Is Acidalia with the Nova?" she whispered, knowing full well that if she was overheard asking that question, she could be legally shot dead on the spot.

Aleskynn's eyes glowed blue, like she knew something she wasn't supposed to and was taking great pleasure in the fact that she was breaking the rules. "Wanna hear a secret?" Carina felt like screaming is this a game to you?!, but she already knew the answer was yes. Everything was a game to Aleskynn; she had the money, power, and popularity at court to get away with anything.

"Acidalia's not with the Nova," Aleskynn said slowly, like a movie character in a melodramatic film attempting to build anticipation. "And that's the problem."

"Wait." Something clicked in Carina's mind. "So everyone else—"

Aleskynn nodded. "Yeah. So of course they want her dead. Can you blame them?" She said it like she was talking about something stupid, something trivial, like a sports rivalry or a fandom war, not a political terrorist group infiltrating the top layers of the government and trying to kill the Imperatrix not because of her policies but because of her breeding.

Horrified, Carina flinched away. "That's…"

"Exciting, isn't it?" Aleskynn finished for her, like she was unable to see the situation from the perspective of anyone else. "Two days, and the throne will be mine in all but name. Seven years, and I'll have my own coronation. Won't it be awesome getting to tell people you're friends with the Imperatrix?" She took Carina's hand and pulled her over to a bridge, a pearlescent, ornate connection between two absolutely massive palace columns. Above them was the swirling, artificial nighttime sky, filled with nebulae and constellations that didn't really exist, like a careless child had dumped glitter on the starscape. "All this is gonna be mine," Aleskynn said, pointing up at it. "And Acidalia can rot in hell, for all I care."

"Should—should you be telling me this?" Carina asked, not knowing what to say, hoping Aleskynn couldn't feel how clammy her palms were.

She shrugged. "It's not like you have any other friends to tell it to. Besides, my mother would kill you if you let the cat out of the bag. And listen, I didn't initially want to ask you this because I'm a Cipher and you're caste Scientia and I don't want it to get weird, but—" She trailed off awkwardly, which wasn't a very Aleskynn thing to do. Carina wondered if she'd done it intentionally, to garner more attention, but she didn't seem like she was smart enough to be that manipulative.

Aleskynn swallowed. "You know, I don't know a whole lot about the Nova. But, uh… they don't like the lower castes very much. And it's not like they'd want to kill you or anything, but they'd make sure you and I could never, ever talk to each other again. But I kinda don't want that to happen, since you're the only person who actually listens to me when I complain instead of telling me to be less shallow or just shamelessly parroting whatever I say in the hopes of gaining favor with my mom."

Carina wished she could have said well, maybe you should be less shallow, but the compliment—or at least the admission of friendship—was weirdly nice, especially coming from Aleskynn Cipher, so she decided not to.

"So," Aleskynn continued, "I was maybe gonna… make you an advisor. Sorta. That wouldn't technically boost your caste, since you were born with it, but I was thinking we could maybe just not tell people?"

"You would lie about my heritage to protect me?" Carina asked. Even though it came with virtually no consequences whatsoever for Aleskynn herself, it didn't have any immediate monetary benefit, either, which was more than what could be said for most of her actions.

"Only because you're friends with me," Aleskynn added quickly, "and only cause I feel kinda bad for you." But the reasoning behind it didn't really matter, did it? Carina could be a royal advisor. She had absolutely no idea what that entailed, but according to Aleskynn's other friends, being a noblewoman wasn't a lot of responsibility; it seemed to mostly involve sitting around in between lessons on everything from psychology to ballet, accompanying the princess on fancy overseas trips, and attending the theatre and the cinema to watch elaborate productions of plays or premiere screenings of movies.

She could envision herself and Aleskynn, sitting together in the best seats in the house, watching the world's best actors and singers preform some classical show like Oedipus Rex or Macbeth or Hamilton. She could see herself amongst throngs of women in white and gold, surrounded by waiters in tuxedos who would bring them anything if they only asked, and this time she wouldn't be an unwelcome intrusion in the world of the rich and famous, but a personal friend of the Imperatrix Ceasarina. She could be paid in millions or billions of credits; it would barely put a dent in the Ciphers' quadrillion-credit fortune. Aleskynn could make or break her entire future if she so desired—and right now she was offering to make it.

But if Carina was to be a noblewoman, she had to keep a secret. And if she didn't tell anyone that Acidalia was about to be assassinated—no, murdered, she was about to be murdered, assassination wasn't emotional enough a word—then an innocent woman would die. What would be the consequences of the only non-Novagenetica member of the court getting killed before her time?

Alestra would be on the throne for the next seven years, not as co-empress with anyone, but exclusively the Imperatrix. There were no checks and balances, no rule of two, under that system. And as nice as Aleskynn's offer was, Carina knew that there was no way the young princess could ever be half the politician her mother and her sister were without a lot of growing up. Eleutheria would be lead by a dictator and an incompetent teenager, and if that weren't bad enough on its own, Alestra was part of a group of genocidal maniacs who wanted half the planet dead or more subjugated than they already were.

"You look nervous," Aleskynn said, knitting her eyebrows.

"No, no!" Carina actually laughed, praying that Aleskynn couldn't tell it was borne not from excitement but from hysteria. "No, I just… wow. Wow, that's a lot to, um—" "I know." She grinned smugly, relishing the power she had.

Carina knew there was no way she could keep this secret to herself—not in good conscience, at least. But who would she tell? It wasn't like she could just march up to the Magistratum and report a homicide threat when the perpetrator was the leader of their entire civilization. And anyone she told would be incriminated, too—even knowing certain information was enough to get somebody killed, or worse, erased from existence entirely.

Aleskynn had no idea what she'd just unleashed by telling this to Carina—not the internal battle that was raging in her mind, nor the consequences that would happen when she inevitably let it slip, because intentionally or not, someone would find out. And when that happened…

Carina gripped the railing of the bridge tightly to steady herself. She could just yes Aleskynn to death and accept the fact that there was nothing she could do; then she'd be a noblewoman, a royal advisor, more or less welcome in the court of a slightly more familiar Imperatrix. But that would mean a lifetime of regret and an ever-present fear of Alestra. The promise of luxury came with a steep, steep price. And even if everything went to plan, if Alestra turned out to be not that bad—which was doubtful—and Aleskynn became semi-competent, Carina would still have to abandon her lab, her work, her colleagues, Athena.

Oh stars almighty, Athena. She had the sudden realization that Athena wouldn't last five minutes under a stricter, tighter, uncontrolled regime with Alestra at the helm. Modern Eleutheria was bad enough, but there was no way to keep tabs on all fifteen billion citizens, so a lot of what she did could fly under the radar. But if Alestra was willing to murder her own daughter in cold blood and join a terrorist group that wanted the lower castes dead, she'd also be willing to kill any opposition. And Athena would oppose her until the day one of them died, not because she had any real reason to, but just because Athena was just like that.

Either Carina could be a terrified royal advisor permanently stuck under Alestra's watchful eye, or she could tell somebody and pray for the best. Neither option was desirable, but one was slightly less awful than the other.

Carina took a deep breath. She knew what she had to do.

[goldfishpainter-blog]

Yesterday in therapy I told the story of the last days with Sophie and my first days of incapacitating mental illness, just before I was officially diagnosed. I was surprised at how upset I became in therapy, and by the clarity of my often faulty memory. Timeline was:

  I started to feel like I was becoming invisible in October, right after I started dating Sophie, right when I turned 19.

  My depression increased. I started to disappear.

By Christmas, I knew something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what. I remember saying “Something is really wrong with me,” to my mom when I came home for Christmas break. When my folks drove me to Austin at the New Year to put me on a plane back to Ohio, my dad gave me a giant teddy bear in the parking lot, and I hugged him and cried very hard. My mom took a picture of us that I have here in my house. Our eyes are red, even though we’re smiling. His arm is around my shoulder, and we both look like we’re holding our breath.

  January was something called “Winter Term,” which exists because it’s basically too cold to live in Ohio in January. The campus empties out. Everyone did an individual project during Winter Term, appropriately called a “Winter Term Project,” and you could complete your project anywhere in the world. Oberlin is mostly wealthy, so students would do their projects in Hawaii or Barbados or Portugal. Wherever they wanted, basically. A tiny minority of students would stay on campus, so the ice-laden, snow-covered campus stayed partially open. The libraries had some limited operating hours, and one of the cafeterias was kept functioning. I chose a listening/research project on mezzo-sopranos of the last century. My roommate, Laura, went away somewhere for the month, so Sophie and I had a giant room to ourselves. We hid inside, only leaving to find food or go to the conservatory to research. Baldwin had a large, round practice room on the first floor with a piano in it, directly below my own round room, so we didn’t even need to go to the conservatory to practice. There were two places near us that delivered food: a Chinese place on Main Street and a Dominos about 30 miles away. With temperatures severely below zero, it was worth the money and the wait to not have to leave the house. We binge-watched TV and movies on her laptop, ate takeout, and existed naked with the radiators cranked. The sky was only ever grey or black.

  I started to think that I would marry this girl, and soon after I had that thought, I started feeling stressed and trapped. I didn’t think I’d ever be strong enough to leave her. There were things I didn’t like, but I felt so stuck. I was madly in love, and marriage seemed like an inevitability, but I had the sense that I was too young and hadn’t been with enough people yet, seen enough of my life, or learned enough about myself to be happy making that lifelong commitment. Then I started to get sick.

  It started with stomach pain that turned into nausea and vomiting. I went to the doctor, got lots of tests done (including a CAT scan and a vaginal ultrasound), and wound up with a diagnosis of an ulcer, polycystic ovarian syndrome, and interstitial cystitis. I did have cysts on my ovaries, but one correct diagnosis out of three is a pretty low success rate. The gyno who did my pelvic exam said I had a bladder condition, prescribed legal speed, and sent me on my way.

  The first day on that stimulant was the night I became furious with myself in a conservatory practice room, blacked out (also known as having a dissociative fugue) and walked several miles out of town. When I came to, I called campus Safety and Security officers to drive out and pick me up. I got back to the dorm, popped two hydrocodone (my first attempt at self-medication), and stood outside of my room looking at the doorknob, feeling like there was a pane of glass between my outstretched hand and the door that I couldn’t possibly penetrate.

  At some point, I found out my stomach pain, combined with my psychological symptoms, could be bipolar disorder. I made an appointment with a psychiatrist, went in to be assessed, told him about my perfectly practical and achievable plan to hang myself in an abandoned barn I’d found with a ladder and an electrical cord, and he sent me to a psychiatric unit for violent offenders in Lorain, Ohio. I stayed for 4 days and then came home with a Neurontin prescription and no diagnosis.

  At 2:30 AM one night, Sophie got really sick and needed to go to the hospital overnight. The prescription speed and a missed night’s sleep started the true psychotic break, which you’ve heard all about. When I came to a moment of functionality around 4 pm the next day, I called my mom and said (again) “I’m not okay.” She told me to find someone to drive me to the airport at 5, that she would book a flight immediately, and to give her Sophie’s phone number.

  On the drive to the airport, the blue sky was heavily dotted with bright white clouds that had the same texture as my mom’s fluffy scrambled eggs.  I could hear them singing to each other. By that point in the day, my psychosis had completely enveloped me, to the point of adjustment. It wasn’t at all frightening; the heavens were singing to me. I am not a religious person, but my psychosis has frequently taken on a literalist interpretation of angels, Satan, spirits, hell, and heaven (so far).

  On the plane a few hours later, I was watching the Johnny Cash in-flight movie from the aisle seat. Next to me sat a man in his 40s with glasses, a button-down shirt, and khakis with a phone holster attached. Total white-guy dad. He was bouncing his 2-year-old son on his knee to distract and comfort the baby boy from popping ears and irritating confinement and boredom.

  About halfway through the movie, I started to see a red glow in my peripheral vision where the man was seated. I turned to look at him and his eyes glowed red. I could see red light surrounding him, and his hands grew long claws from the fingertips. He was still bouncing the baby boy on his knee, holding onto him tightly with those terrifying claws. I knew in my bones that I was sitting next to Satan. I didn’t know what to do. I called the flight attendant but was afraid to speak when she came to me. He was going to hurt that little boy, he was going to drag me to hell with him, and I thought about screaming for help, but couldn’t see how anyone else on the plane could possibly save me from Satan, himself. As I looked around in a panic, I felt the floor beneath my feet drop away, and when I looked down between my feet, I saw 30,000 feet of empty space between me and the carpet of blackness and lights that make up a city from above at nighttime. My feet were swinging freely. My seatbelt seemed a laughable precaution. No one else noticed, so I stared straight ahead with tears raging down my face. I thought it best just to try to act the same as everyone around me. Surely the judgment of the many was currently better than my own.

  I came home confused and in pain, still wanting to kill myself. My mom called every psychiatrist in town, and the nearest appointment was 6 months out. She convinced me that the fastest way to get help was to go to DePaul, the local psychiatric hospital. I seized a moment of doubt in my plan to off myself, and I told her to take me, quickly, before I changed my mind. We got in the car two minutes later. I didn’t even pack.

  I already had one horrifying hospital experience under my belt that included living with real-life murderers and armed guards stationed at locked doors holding rifles with two hands. The threat this new hospital posed was made more significant in my mind through projection. By about one hour in, I was a wreck. I went into my very first mixed-state episode. It was hell. Literal hell. Eternal, unyielding suffering. I had no idea that episodes pass. I’d never had one before. I thought this was life now, that I was finally just broken, and that I no longer had a choice to live. I was in hell.

  Suicide would make it stop. I knew that much. It was the only move I had left.

  I double wrapped my phone charger around my neck and wrapped the other end around the top hinge on the bathroom door. I kicked a chair out from under me, but the jerk didn’t break my neck, so instead, I started to suffocate. My vision started to go white when I saw a shadow and heard someone screaming “help!” Someone grabbed me around the middle and lifted me up to take the pressure off of my neck. I felt cold scissors against my throat and hear a snapping sound of then cutting my charger’s cord. I took one deep breath in and started screaming.

  I screamed. I wailed. I remember being partially removed, as if I was standing across the room, observing. I remember thinking that I sounded like a wounded wolf. I was screaming because they had cheated me. I had the answer. I even had the courage to commit to the answer. And they stole it. How could they do that to me? It seemed like the cruelest thing they could have possibly done.

           I lost Sophie a few days later when I got out of one-to-one observation. She broke up with me over the phone. When I called her and admitted to my attempt, she was rightfully terrified and overwhelmed. Mental illnesses had doomed and then ended the relationship, which is no one’s fault. I lost my mind and my first adult relationship at approximately the same time. This order of events is not unavoidable, but it’s also not uncommon. Many others who live with mental illness have experienced this themselves.

  Lately, I’m not doing so great. I’m having more severe symptoms than I’ve had in years and some of the things that are happening take me back to these memories. All of this happened over a decade ago. The 13th anniversary of my first suicide attempt is in 2 months.

  While the symptoms are becoming severe, the coping skills I have are now strong enough to provide some solace and structure. Still, even with great tools to use, it often hurts like hell, and I’m terrified of going back to the place I was in 13 years ago. I don’t want to have a full psychotic break, be hospitalized, attempt suicide, or lose my relationship.

  I have skills now. I have a support system. I have medical care. I have a partner in life. I have 13 years of experience in keeping myself alive. I have amassed a wealth of helpful components to cope with my illnesses.

  I have to fact-check. There are worse things than having a psychotic break. There are worse things than going to the hospital. There is no evidence that I will attempt suicide. There is no evidence that I will lose my relationship.

  Cope. Fact-check. Ask for help. Go to the doctor.

  I know what to do. I’ve done this before.

  Memories That Almost Break Me Yesterday in therapy I told the story of the last days with Sophie and my first days of incapacitating mental illness, just before I was officially diagnosed.

[thegloober]

The Confusing Story of Instagram Star Lil Tay’s “Disappearance”

Lil Tay has vanished, again. The nine-year-old Instagram star dropped off the grid earlier this year, but now, new details suggest she’s no longer living with her mother Angela Tian. Instead, she’s thought to be living with her father, a man named Christopher John Hope in Canada. But, what are the actual facts? The whole situation is hardly clear-cut, and most of the details read like one-sided speculation. As per a few peculiar Instagram posts, it appears that Lil Tay been banned from social media by her formally estranged father. Here’s what we know so far.

Sometime early in 2018, Lil Tay became a viral sensation almost overnight when she began posting pictures and video of herself cursing and throwing money at a camera for her two million Instagram followers. While many wrote the whole thing off as a joke, it’s humor was debatable, and others naturally took offense to the child’s antics. But, on June 6th, the nine-year-old vanished from social media entirely.

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It made some sense. The backlash against the viral sensation was pretty much instantaneous. Parents, writers, a relentless cesspool of internet denizens, and most people with a pulse were quick to call out the nine-year-old for everything from fake flexing to cultural appropriation. Being the optics nightmare that it was, Lil Tay actually took all of the content on her Instagram down and pushed forward with something of a rebrand. The “new” Lil Tay was a bit calmer and traded in Ferraris with a rapper’s bravado for dance classes and a burgeoning music career. Around July 5th the nine-year-old went radio-silent for the second time. But, before dropping off she posted a cryptic Instagram story that simply read “help me.”

View this post on Instagram

Part 1: June 2nd @freeliltay__ Let me reveal the truth that millions of people have been asking about for months, this was Lil Tay the last time she was happy, 2 hours before Christopher John Hope, her abusive absentee father ( will go into further details in next posts ) who hasn’t been in her life for years, handed her a court order forcing her to go to his home in Canada in which she was constantly abused by Hope and his wife. He banned her off of social media because he was afraid she would expose the TRUTH to the world, the truth of what he has done and hasn’t been punished for. For the past few months, he has been trying to destroy Tay and her mother’s life for his own financial gain… I am someone who previously worked with Tay and have seen everything unfold since the beginning. I will not stay silent about this any longer, Christopher John Hope is trying to grab at her fame, money and ultimately take Tay away from her mother who has loved and cared for Tay all her life, something Christopher John Hope has never done. #FreeLilTay

A post shared by #FREELILTAY (@liltay) on Oct 20, 2018 at 1:49pm PDT

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On October 21st, a “representative” for Lil Tay, someone who claims to have worked closely with her, began posting from her Instagram account, sharing information regarding an alleged legal struggle between Hope and Lil Tay’s mother. No one has any clue who this person is, but Lil Tay’s Instagram bio says that the account is now run by the vestiges of her management team.

“Let me reveal the truth that millions of people have been asking about for months…,” the anonymous poster wrote in a video caption. “…her abusive absentee father ( will go into further details in next posts ) who hasn’t been in her life for years, handed her a court order forcing her to go to his home in Canada in which she was constantly abused by Hope and his wife.”

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The representative  went on to say that Hope has banned his daughter from social media out of fear that she will “expose the TRUTH to the world.” Allegedly a court order was issued in Hope’s favor which required Lil Tay to be at his residence by June 3rd at 4 PM. Though Hope hadn’t interacted with his daughter much in recent years, the post claims he “threatened Tay’s Mom to have her arrested, sued and have Tay placed in foster care if she did not obey to the court order.” Their explanations of the situation were written as captions beneath a handful of video and pictures of Lil Tay and her family. In one such video, Lil Tay can be seen in tears, decrying her father for living “six minutes away” but never visiting her at all.

The posts then go on to outline, in detail, a large handful of instances in which Hope’s abusive behavior was most apparent. On top of cheating on his Ex-wife Tian with multiple women (Hope allegedly had two wives at the same time), the post says that “once they separated he often slept with different women with Tay in the same bed.”

“He wouldn’t feed her or make her proper meals and would mainly leave Tay with Richanee Alcover’s [an alleged con artist and Hope’s new partner] sister Chezca to care for her while he went out with Richanee Alcover and her son…” The post reads. ”…She would scream at Tay and forcefully lock her in a dark closet for hours at a time for no reason, all with the knowledge and permission of Christopher John Hope.”

According to the poster, instances like these are what resulted in Lil Tay needing to see a therapist every week and Tian gaining full custody of her. Still, none of the eight posts to Lil Tay’s Instagram actually explains what the basis for the custody switch is. After neglecting his daughter for years the post claims that Hope is doing all this for “his own financial gain.” There is, what the poster says is an official court affidavit outlining Hope’s behavior, but neither Hope, Lil Tay, or Tian have spoken out about it. While the whole situation seems a little jarring, all of the posts are notably lacking verified facts and it’s literally impossible to make heads or tales of any of it. The lack of verification seems odd because something like a court affidavit is highly verifiable. Beyond the room for doubt,  if what her representative says about Hope is true—well then this whole scenario should be cause for serious alarm.

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Two more posts were made from her account on the morning of October 22nd. One of them depicts Hope with a distorted voice-over claiming that he has filed another expedited court order to put his daughter into foster care and have her mother arrested. The aforementioned post has since been deleted from the Instagram account as well as at least one of the videos  posted yesterday

“This is not something you want to do Chris,” the distorted voiceover said. “I have a lot more dirt on you and this is just the beginning.” And the rest of the world is waiting to see what happens next.

Source: https://bloghyped.com/the-confusing-story-of-instagram-star-lil-tays-disappearance/

[foursprout-blog]

17 Work, Money, And Life Lessons I Learned In 2017

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/17-work-money-and-life-lessons-i-learned-in-2017/

17 Work, Money, And Life Lessons I Learned In 2017

Axel Holen

Many people stop reading books as soon as they graduate school. Don’t be one of them. My 9-5 job involves a lot of heavy reading, but I still make time to read outside of work. I mostly fit this in by reading on the subway to and from work, as well as setting aside 30 to 60 minutes before bed. I enjoy reading anything from crime fiction to political theory.

2. Control your money before it controls you.

Financial literacy is your responsibility. Yes, your parents may not have taught you about money management as much as they should have, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t take the time to learn now. There are hundreds of personal finance blogs online that provide amazing financial advice for free. Once you learn the basics: budgeting, investing, building an emergency fund, and saving for retirement, you’ll feel much more empowered.

3. You can be rich and still be someone no one respects or wants to be around.

There is no amount of money in the world that will hide a terrible personality. No one wants to be around someone who boasts about their leased BMW or their detached house that they put a 10% downpayment on. Accumulation of wealth still does not guarantee a happy and fulfilled life.

4. In order to be great at anything, you must practice it every single day.

There is no single moment that suddenly shifts you from being unsuccessful to successful. Whatever craft you’ve chosen, you have to practice it on a daily basis. Some days you will be bursting with motivation, other days it will be the last thing you want to be do. You can’t rely on motivation, you have to focus on the big picture — what is this all for. If you work on your craft every single day, there is literally no way that you won’t improve.

5. Your time is precious.

There are only so many hours in a day. But with smart time management skills, these hours are more than enough. Set a routine. I wake up almost every weekday at 5:30AM – 5:45AM, make coffee using my french press, and then sit down in front of my laptop. In the stillness of the morning, I write a new piece for my blog. Sometimes it’s quality content, other times it’s garbage that requires a serious amount of editing. After about an hour, I take a shower, eat breakfast and get ready for work. Around 5PM, I’ll return home from work and check up on my blog, eat dinner, spend time with my girlfriend, read a book and then head to bed. Occasionally, I’ll fit in a run either before or after work too. On the weekends, I spend a couple hours a day writing. A good week usually involves 20 – 25 devoted to strictly writing.

6. Wake up early.

It’s the hardest but most beneficial habit to incorporate into your daily routine. My most productive work days at my 9 – 5 job usually involved an early morning where I was able to enjoy my coffee, write for an hour and sit in silence before the craziness of the day.

7. Confidence is not innate, it needs to be developed.

About a year ago, I changed jobs. It was a steep learning curve. I had to attend mediations before various administrative tribunals, something that I had never done before. The Art of Mediation uses a completely different skillset then conducting a hearing. You have to appear reasonable and open-minded to both the mediator and opposing party, all the while trying to cut the best deal of your client.

During my first mediation, I was very nervous. Can people tell that this is my first time? I had to fake confidence. And boy, did I fake it.

My second mediation was much easier and came more natural to me. I had gone through the motions before, and knew what to expect. Most importantly, I learned when to be assertive and when to be conciliatory. All forms of confidence.

Like any other skill, confidence can be easily acquired through practice. In my experience, there is absolute truth in “faking it until you making it.” Don’t worry if you’re not an immediately confident person in every scenario that life throws your way. No one is.

8. Patience is the key to success.

I’m a very impatient person.

This year I learned that no goal worth striving for will come easy or immediately. This can be applied to paying off debt, landing your dream salary, and even developing the skills that you work so hard to perfect. Instead, focus on the small wins and hold tight to the big picture — the time will pass quickly enough, and the goals will soon be attained.

9. Experiment with lots of different things and embrace failure.

Don’t settle for a comfortable life — try as many things as possible. Whatever hobbies, interests or skills that you have, pursue them vigorously and see where they take you. This applies to your personal or professional life. We tend to emulate others who appear to have their life figured out. But what works for them may not work for you. Don’t chase someone else’s dream life.

This year, I decided to work on something I love to do — write. I’m still developing my writing voice, learning what works and what doesn’t, all the while publishing these musings online. In the past two and a half months, thousands of people have read my writing. But who knows what will happen. My readership could rapidly expand or all of a sudden disappear overnight. But whether my blog fails or grows is beside the point. I love writing. And it would be silly for me not to pursue my interest.

10. Your uniqueness is your strength.

There is no one in this world who is identical to you. Use that to your advantage.

As a millennial, I have a unique perspective. As a woman of colour, I have a unique perspective. As someone who identifies as queer, I have a unique perspective. As a legal aid lawyer, I have a unique perspective.

I consider these strengths, not weaknesses.

Whatever makes you stand out, cherish it, own it, and capitalize on it. Don’t strive to blend into the crowd, fight hard to stand out.

11. Happiness comes from within.

Stop looking at what others have. Self-reflection is the key to happiness. Take some time to think about what a successful life means to you. Take out a piece of paper and write a long list. Quietly begin to work towards those things. And whenever you feel yourself playing the comparison thing, refer back to that list for guidance and support. You’re not in a competition with anyone but yourself. Push yourself to be better than who you were yesterday.

12. Push your own boundaries.

Throw more money towards your debt than you think you can handle. Save more than you think you’ll need. Forego purchasing things that are still within your budget.

This isn’t to necessarily torture yourself, but to remind yourself that it’s important to practice being uncomfortable. There is something magical about voluntary hardship. Push your boundaries. The results will surprise you.

13. The best gift you can give someone is attention.

In today’s digital age, our focus is fleeting. Whenever you’re spending time with a friend or family member, put your phone away and actively engage in the conversation. A deep conversation will always leave both parties feeling gratified and replenished. The best gift that you can give someone is the feeling that they’ve been heard.

14. Money can’t buy effort.

Related to the last point — receiving an expensive gift from your loved one is nice, but waking up to a clean apartment and your favourite home-cooked dinner is definitely better. People enjoy being spoiled by effort, not possessions. Anyone can go to a mall during lunch and buy something, few would get off the couch and toil in the kitchen for 3 hours so their girlfriend can be surprised with her favourite meal after a long day at work.

15. Learn from people that are different from you.

I am so grateful for my current job, because I am forced to check my privilege every single day. Think you’re struggling with money? Talk to a single mom on welfare. Most of us have some form of privilege. It’s our responsibility to use our skills and platform to empower those facing unjust socioeconomic barriers. But It all starts with listening to people who are different than us.

One simple method: follow people on social media who are unlike you — in race, gender, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status and more. You’ll be surprised as what you can learn every day just by scrolling through your Twitter feed.

16. Invest in experiences, not things.

For Valentine’s Day this year, my girlfriend and I decided to make sushi at home. We spent a total of $20 for all the ingredients. We didn’t buy each other presents. It was relaxing, intimate and wildly entertaining.

For our 2 year anniversary, we splurged for an afternoon at the spa. Again, no presents were exchanged. All we wanted was a couple of hours where we had each other’s undivided attention. We splashed around the pool. Chilled in the hot tub. Had amazing 45 minute massages. And enjoyed a nice dinner in the adjacent restaurant. What more could one ask for? (Best yet — our massages were covered by our health benefits through work).

17. Learning about money is simple, but understanding our feelings around it is complicated.

It’s funny, I started blogging to primarily share my personal experience with personal finances, but my writing has grown to encapsulate so much more. Personal finance doesn’t live within its own ecosystem. It’s related to our values, habits and lifestyle. Money is, after all, just paper — it’s the values that are inextricably associated with it that’s so difficult to understand. Money is about health, security and prosperity. Which leads to a whole lost difficult questions. Why do men make more than women? Why do we pay for some labour but not others? Why do we have a growing gap of inequality? And for me: why can I afford a nice apartment and a fridge full of food while some of my clients can’t?

Anyways, these are just some lessons that I’ve learned over the past year. Although we still have another month to go, I’ll be using December to look forward, not backwards, as to what I hope to accomplish in 2018. Mainly, becoming debt free and writing more.