#so they just climb over the boxes i have stacked to try to block the main hole

[vampirebiter]

having cats means you have little fuzzy perverts in your house at all times. i havent gone to the bathroom in peace in months.

[littlelostmabari]

4. Eating/Cooking Together

Pairing: Shadowheart x Halsin x Tav. Tav isn't described, and uses no pronouns.

Warnings: A teeny bit of angst, but they're all happy.

Word count: 1.3k

It's all just fluff. Fluff fluff fluff. Thanks to @kelandrin for the lovely BG3 Pride Prompts! (Link to that post here) (Dividers here)

The sun was grazing the horizon when the door to Chateau Buttercup was gently pushed open to reveal a form waddling through the barn with a stack of boxes too tall to carry with any ease. 

“Halsin?” a voice called out from behind the boxes. “I brought the – oof!” The boxes would have fallen comically into Buttercup's stall, had there not been a wall of elf blocking the path. A rough chuckle and relief of the top three boxes revealed a tall, broad-shouldered Halsin wearing nothing but trousers, sandals, and the remnants of Buttercup’s thorough grooming. He easily hefted the three boxes up and over into the empty stall next door, following up with the second three a moment later, leaving Tav’s arms blissfully empty and sore. 

“Thank you, my heart, for helping me with this little surprise.” He opened his arms for a hug. Tav leaned back and made a face, gesturing to the leftover cow hair. Halsin laughed heartily, brushed himself off with a casual aire, and then leaned forward to place a kiss at Tav’s temple. He took care not to shed more Buttercup onto Tav than was necessary for the contact. “I’ll take care of the rest of this,” gesturing to the boxes now well hidden behind the faded red wood of the stall. “Why don’t you go and make sure she doesn’t come out here while I work.” 

Tav nodded, bent forward for one more temple kiss, and then hurried out the front of the small barn. It was easy enough to find Shadowheart this time of day — sundown was often a time where her mother could reliably remember herself. Shadowheart had taken to sitting at the foot of her mother’s lounging chair, allowing the older woman to run her hands through her daughter's silvery hair. Sometimes Tav would stand in the doorway, just watching as Emmeline carefully braided colored ribbons; Shadowheart would wear them with pride until they fell out of their own accord or her mother insisted on trying a new hairstyle. Sometimes Emmeline would sit back in her chair and Shadowheart would read to her, other times Emmeline would tell her of happy times before the influence of Shar broke their family apart. Arnell would often leave during the latter evenings, the knowledge of those lost years too much to bear in front of their new family. 

Tonight was a reading night, Shadowheart had climbed up into the chair with her mother and the two were snuggled, carefully perched on the extra wide armchair. The book was “Nimoneon’s Fantastic Adventures”, which let the two of them choose their way through the story. Shadowheart was endlessly amused by how often her mother chose the same pathways, because they had read often enough that they both knew the story by heart — and Emmeline would always pick the ending where Nimoneon found his true love and rode off into the sunset. 

Tav took the long way around their modest cottage, stopping to place a kiss on both women’s cheeks, before seeking out Arnell in the kitchen. He was busily stirring a pot of something that smelled extraordinarily delicious; it reminded Tav of the tomato stew that Yenna had made one night in the Elfsong. Arnell looked up with a smile and pointed at the vegetables still on the counter waiting to be added. The carrots and squash still needed chopping, and after a brief question on how Arnell wanted it done, Tav set to work. Tav also kept a careful ear out into the main room, ensuring that Shadowheart’s beautiful voice was still carrying through the cottage — and not interrupting Halsin’s carefully laid out plans. 

Thirty minutes later, Arnell announced to the room that dinner was ready, and Tav left the kitchen to gather the rest of the family to the table. Halsin needed five more minutes, so Tav took the time to make sure that the table was perfectly set, Emmeline and Shadowheart’s wine glasses full, and both women happily chatting about which choice they would make after dinner when they settled back into their peace. Arnell and Tav happily served the table, as Halsin entered the cottage with fresh clothes and hair still wet from rinsing off the day’s work. 

The stew was delicious, but Shadowheart’s eyes became more and more glazed over as the meal progressed. Tav and Halsin both noticed; Tav’s hand was on her thigh and Halsin’s on her back as her eyes welled with tears. She was clearly confused as to what brought on the sudden increase of emotions, and Tav looked to Arnell who was gently smiling at his daughter. 

“This was the meal you always asked for on your nameday, my sweet,” he said gently. “I’m glad to see you remember it.���

“I do,” Shadowheart said, with a small sob. “But there’s something missing, something sweet and crunchy and —”

“The bread rolls that your nanna used to make,” Emmeline interjected with a smile. “She made them with the local flour and added a touch of honey to the dough. Unfortunately those we lost when she passed, but she would be so happy to know that her rolls were something you remembered!”

Shadowheart burst into tears, reaching an arm over Tav’s shoulder and pulling Tav close. Halsin pulled both hands from the meal and used them to rub soothing circles into her back. It took a couple minutes but Shadowheart pulled herself together and wiped the tears away with the back of her hands. Arnell reached across the table and tossed a handkerchief, which she caught readily and finished cleaning away the mess that had been brought about by such happy memories. Tav and Halsin shared a worried glance, but it was quickly remedied when Shadowheart burst up from the table and ran to her father with a new set of tears. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she cried into his shoulder. Emmeline couldn’t help herself either, blowing her nose noisily into her own cloth. A few more moments passed before — “Wait,” she said, her head poking up from the embrace. “You said that I asked for this on my nameday? Why did you make it today?” 

“Oh, my sweet,” Halsin said sadly under his breath, shaking his head. Both Halsin and Tav stood, Halsin leaving the room quickly and Tav helping Shadowheart stand and return to her chair. 

“My darling,” Tav stated gently, kneeling at her feet. “It is your nameday.” 

Shadowheart’s eyes glanced about to her mother and father, who nodded. A smile began to grow, turning into a toothy grin and another series of tears left her eyes. “Kythorn 3,” she laughed. “With my propensity towards the dramatic, I would have bet I was a winter baby!” The table laughed along with her, and distracted her long enough for Halsin to enter with his and Tav’s gift in tow. He placed it gently in the space where the side table had been (Tav lied very convincingly that the side table never fit with the decor, and Shadowheart allowed its removal). 

Tav took Shadowheart by the shoulders and turned her to face an exquisite carving of the five of them, their beautiful found family, holding each other around a small opening, which was currently empty. It seemed as if a candle might fit, but Shadowheart knew better. Tav held onto her tightly from behind as she gestured a gentle incantation, a small call to Selûne, and a wisp of moonlight flickered into being above the circle of their love. 

“Happy Nameday, Shadowheart,” Tav said, clutching her tighter. Halsin’s arms wrapped around them both, kissing the top of their heads. Arnell wrapped an arm around Emmeline, kissing her temple as well. Shadowheart closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth of her partners, once again eternally grateful to be home. 

[bleep-bloop-boo]

OMG PLEASE TELL LIBRARY STORIES

i would love to work at a library one day

iugfbnwqkwsdjf AWW THANK YOU FOR THE ASKK IM GOING TO RAMBLE NOW <33 AND SAMEE i hope you do get to work at the library :)) i need to wait 9 more months before I can applyy

First off all, background In my 7th grade i did Semester 1 online school and Semester 2 in person. I didnt get a choice in elective cuz i switched over so i became an office aide tho i would be sent to the library most of the time to help the librarian. another thing, the librarian started the same time as me. the old librarian quit and the new librarian was just out of college (and also lowkey traumatized but we dont acknowledge that heree) so she was like in her early 20s I LOVE HER SM OMG!! BEFORE BEING A LIBRARIAN SHE PLAYED COMPETITIVE VIDEO GAMES AND SHE HAS AN ANIMATION CHANNEL AND NOW SHES ILLUSTRATING CHILDRENS BOOK AND SHE WAS IN FANDOMS TOO!! SHES AMAZING AT ART, LIKE WHEN YOU ASKED HER TO SIGN YOUR YEARBOOK SHE'D DRAW YOU (i can find the picture of me she drew if youd likee) IN 2 MINUTES!! AND SHE TOLD ME ONCE SHED DRAW A FANART OF NICO GETTING MCDONALDS WITH WILL FOR ME CUZ I TOLD HER I LIKED PERCY JACKSON AND SOLANGELO (i never told her bout the mcdonalds thing, she knew) and it was so much fun cuz id be sorting books and reading books and scanning books and helping kids and fixing books and organizing and just talking with peoplee i loved it smm and speaking of her, she did so much cool stuff!! she had no idea how the library worked or how to do stuff and she did end up crying the first month because of how lost she was but she got a hang of it and i so proud of her for that <33

She made a cozy corner where there are tons of blankets and pillows for people and with cozy curtains and lights

she bought (using her own money) nearly 40 boardgames and made a shelf for people to play with fidgets, cards and games

she brought her switch in so kids could see and watch her play

she made a suggestion box and read every single one

she started a thing where she made slides for the elementary schoolers and read to them every week

she let students come in during lunch and play games and talk and chill (which is amzing cuz our school was HELLA strict, like middle schoolers could only sit at the tables or on the grass. you cant walk anywhere else.)

and we all loved her sm, she was the best <33 i miss her cuz now im in high school and the kid i tutored told on me thursday she moved and she doesnt work there anymore and now i miss her even moree but ill see if i can find her insta time for the actual stories of me and the one other office aide 😭😭😭 - we built a throne out of old textbooks and made a whole photosoot using paper decorations - we spent an entire hour just reading and laughing at this book about toilets - we spent 15 minutes learning how to use a key cuz we locked ourselves outside of the school (we had keys with acsess to the whole school and all the gates, were just stupid) - had so many debates with elementary schoolers who snuck in about the best pjo character and other books - kicked said elementary schoolers out because the school didnt allow them to be there after their school ended (then snuck them back in) - we spent an entire period just playing random songs and videos on the TVs and kept trying to change it to Never Going To Give You Up - kirby. so much kirby. EVERYWHERE - SCHOLASTIC BOOK FAIR omg, the books come in the shelves pre-pepared but the shelves are like tall, metal blocks on wheels you need to open up yourself and move around. we ended up creating a labryinth and getting trapped then i stacked a rolly stool on a chair and that didnt work cuz the stool was bigger than the chair and even tho i would have surived, they said it was too dangerous so i had to climb on a booksehlf to jump over these 6 foot tall bookselves we opened wrong and escape the maze - selling at said scholastic fair which was so fun <33 (i want a retail job so badd) - the amount of times i just sat and read while sorting books- - theres prolly more im forgetting lol, this is getting long tho so ill just end itt TYSM FOR THE ASK, THIS WAS LITERALLY MY FAVORITE CLASS IN ALL OF MIDDLE SCHOOL (barely beat geometry) AND I LOVELOVELOVE TALKING ABOUT ITT

[screechthemighty]

This one goes out to the Found Family enjoyers. 😘😘 Also I just want to establish real quick since we have *checks notes* two chapters left...the main meat of the "time travel" part of this fic is going to be resolved over the course of THREE fics now. So we have Meryl and Wolfwood's journey back to July in this one, Vash's journey back to July in "moments until the crash" (which I will resume working on in earnest once I'm done with this one), and then a fic covering the new events of July that...I don't have a title for yet but it will probably be more Tombi lyrics. So yeah, just wanted to make that clear. Anyways, onwards!

the unknowable tomorrow | a tristamp fanfic part seventeen: meryl and wolfwood

content warnings: nail biting, body horror, religious/cult trauma, reality warping, suicide mention, abusive behavior (general knives cw)

works cited: one incident in this fic is inspired by an idea from "Low Profile" by spectre_anon, specifically chapter three. quotes are used from episode 10 of tristamp. incidents from trimax, especially vol. 1 ch 4, vol. 8 ch. 3, and vol. 9 ch. 1. song of the chapter: "piano man" by billy joel.

.

“We know you’re in here, Stampede!”

Well, this was a great way to start things.

Wolfwood kept his head on a swivel as he and Meryl moved through the warehouse. He wished there was somewhere else he could send her—this was an active firefight, and her “people shot” count was still at one—but he’d have to make do. Long as I get shot at more than her.

“There’s nowhere for you to run!” continued the voice. The guy sounded like a real asshole, the kind that would be a pain to deal with properly while keeping casualties low. Granted, he couldn’t have cared less about the casualties, but he didn’t want Vash on his case about killing. He didn’t want Meryl to see him pull the trigger, either, not after everything she’d said back…

Nope. Don’t think about that now. Keep moving.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked a new voice nearby. Wolfwood stopped, holding out an arm to block Meryl as he did. “I don’t think we want the police sniffing around here.”

“We’ll take him to the police once we get him. Just some upstanding citizens freeing the wastes from a criminal. No one has to know, yeah?”

Great. Not only was someone trying to get Vash for his bounty again, they were unscrupulous sorts themselves. Probably dumb as bricks, too, with the way Wolfwood’s luck had been going. As Wolfwood scanned the passageways between boxes, he spotted a brief flash of red and the blue-green of Vash’s prosthetic arm. It looked like he was trying to climb up onto a stack of boxes, probably to get a better view. Wolfwood hissed to get his attention. He had to hold back a flinch when Vash spun around with his pistol drawn—not just because he was fighting the urge to raise his own weapon, but because Vash’s quick draw was so damn fast. It was unnerving.

The radiant smile that appeared on Vash’s face when he realized it was them erased all the danger from him. Wolfwood smiled back, despite the tension eating away at him, and gestured upwards. When Vash nodded, Wolfwood ran over, Meryl close behind. They worked quickly: Wolfwood boosted up Vash, then Meryl, then jumped to grab Vash’s hand and let himself be hauled up. The height gave him a clearer view of the space. It looked like the warehouse had been carved directly from stone. It was the sort of cool, dry place you kept food before it was shipped. The haphazard placement of the crates and comments about the cops made Wolfwood suspect the original owners had either abandoned the place or been ousted by the new occupants.

“Are you hurt?” Meryl whispered.

Vash shook his head. “They’re really lousy shots,” he whispered back, “but there’s a lot of them.”

Great. “You got a plan?” Wolfwood asked.

“That’s the problem. They…”

Vash immediately shut his mouth as footsteps and voices grew closer. All three of them shrank down as low as they could. Wolfwood could feel Meryl pressing close to him, Vash’s hand on his shoulder. The weight of responsibility for both of them felt as suffocating as the fear of being heard by the men below.

“…don’t know why he’s bothering. There’s got to be easier places to steal from…”

Steal. Which in Vash’s case would mean steal back. And it would probably be too much to ask that it was something small that he already had in his pocket like last time.

“They took a Plant,” Vash whispered once the men were further away. “I need to get the truck she’s on.” Wolfwood bit back a sigh. Of freakin’ course. “I already have the keys. I just…”

They had to duck down and fall silent again when more footsteps went by. Vash settled for pointing in the direction they needed to go. In theory, they could make their way across the top of the crates. In practice, as much as people had a tendency to not look up, they’d be clear and obvious targets if they were spotted.

Better than trying to navigate on the ground, I guess.

“Someone’s gonna have to carry Meryl,” Wolfwood whispered.

“Hey - !”

“You gonna look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve secretly been a competitive long jumper this whole time?!” Meryl’s face went pink, but she didn’t reply. “No regular person could make some of those gaps. It’s nothing personal.”

“…fair,” she grumbled.

Vash smiled at her apologetically. “Here, climb on. I promise I won’t drop you.”

Wolfwood wasn’t surprised Vash didn’t drop her, but he was a little surprised how damn graceful Vash was about it. He could look like a bundle of flailing limbs even when he was pulling off impressive feats, but this time he was so focused that he made the trip across the maze of crates look effortless. Wolfwood couldn’t complain, though. That meant they had one less thing to worry about on a trip that was already giving him ulcers.

The vehicles were unguarded when they reached them. Wolfwood got to stabbing as soon as they hit the ground, pulling out his pocket knife and going for any tires that looked easily punctured. There were four bikes and three smaller cars parked next to a bigass truck that could only be holding the Plant, and even it was completely unguarded. He was going to question the intelligence of these people when he noted a loose charge cable next to the truck. They’d unplugged it, which meant it probably didn’t have enough juice to get anywhere far. “Damn it,” Wolfwood mumbled.

“I can fix this,” Vash said without hesitation. He pulled a bundle of keys out of his pocket—there had to be enough to cover most of the vehicles there, if not all of them—selected one in particular, and passed it to Meryl. “You be ready to drive when the battery is full. Nico, can you hold them off without…?”

“No killing,” Wolfwood grumbled. “I know.” At least he hadn’t really had to shoot anything since they last bought ammo. Less risk of it running out. “Just be fast, okay?”

They all took their places—Meryl in the driver’s seat, Wolfwood behind a nearby car for cover, Vash rummaging around under the hood of the car. Wolfwood wasn’t sure what Vash was doing and he didn’t have time to check. Someone was already approaching fast.

“Hey!”

Wolfwood’s first shot was just a warning, and fortunately drove the guy back to cover. It didn’t stop him from screaming, though: “He’s at the cars!”

Damn it. Wolfwood took a deep breath and focused down the rifle sights. No killing. Pretend it’s a take alive mission. Vash said they’re lousy shots, so they probably are…

That didn’t make the first sign of armed men any less harrowing.

Missing on purpose was just as hard as actually hitting them would’ve been. If he wasn’t aiming shots to drive them back, he had to aim for parts of the body that wouldn’t kill them outright. He knew how to aim with precision, sure, but his impulse was to go for the center mass. The torso was easiest to shoot, dropped a person quickly—both things you’d usually want in a situation like this. But Vash had asked him not to kill. So, he tried.

He didn’t exactly shed tears whenever a shot did hit—for example, when a bullet he meant to fire at the floor accidentally hit a guy’s foot, causing him to collapse to the floor in pain. Whatever, he’d live. Wolfwood would’ve moved on to a more pressing target if the guy hadn’t sat up and suddenly gone pale. Not from pain, not from realizing where Wolfwood was and that he could theoretically make a more fatal shot. He was looking at something over Wolfwood’s shoulder.

“What the fuck is that?”

Wolfwood risked glancing over his shoulder and froze immediately.

Vash was glowing. His plant markings were clearly visible, racing across his face in intricate patterns. His eyes were a more vivid blue than ever. It almost looked like his body was moving underneath his coat, flexing and stretching in ways a normal person wouldn’t usually move. Wolfwood even thought he saw something starting to sprout from his shoulder. Petals? Feathers?

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be seeing this. What’s happening to him? What’s he…

Vash suddenly jerked his hands away. His body snapped back into place, so suddenly and sharply that it was almost more alarming than the changes had been. “Start it!” he yelped as he slammed the hood shut.

Meryl, fortunately, recovered faster than Wolfwood did. The truck roared to life. Wolfwood stayed frozen in place until Vash ran to his side and started dragging him. “Come on, we’ve got to go!”

His legs recovered before his brain did, carrying him into the car before anyone started shooting again. As Meryl drove them out, Wolfwood glanced at the car’s dashboard displays. The battery had fully charged.

Vash had done that. Vash had created power and recharged the battery. It felt like just the other day he’d been in that bathroom, small and explaining how he couldn’t create anything. Now…

Wolfwood stared openly at Vash. “That’s new,” he said.

Vash smiled sheepishly. Before he could explain, something shot off one of their rear-view mirrors. Wolfwood cursed; Vash was leaning out the driver’s side window fast as he could even blink, pistol aimed. Wolfwood leaned out the passenger’s side just in time to see a motorcycle trip as the tire gave out.

Guess I got that one. He aimed for the tires of the next one. It took a few shots, but it did finally slow down, veering off as the driver lost control. He heard the sound of another one tipping over and crashing. It went silent after that, aside from the sound of the truck they were driving.

“Is that all of them?” Meryl asked.

“For now.” Vash sat down heavily and started reloading his pistol. “They’ll probably try to catch up. We should get as much distance from them as possible.”

“Agreed.” Wolfwood sat down as well and rubbed his eyes. “Is the Plant okay?”

Vash paused, his head tilting slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. Wolfwood couldn’t look at his face too long; even with his sunglasses dimming the brightness of his eyes, he could swear he still caught sight of the Plant markings in his eyes. “She’s okay,” he said finally. “A bit rattled. Wants to be back with the others. But she’ll be okay now.” His shoulders slumped slightly as he smiled. “And I was on such a good streak of not getting into shootouts before noon.”

Wolfwood checked the car’s clock. Sure enough, it was almost 10 a.m. “…you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” Wolfwood said flatly. “I can only take so much.”

“All those cigarettes will kill you before Vash does,” Meryl retorted.

Vash started giggling as Wolfwood switched his glare to Meryl. “Sure, everyone gang up on poor old me.” He pulled out a cigarette and held out his hand to Vash. He felt the press of the lighter in his hand almost immediately. “Wiseass.”

He did roll the window down before he started smoking. He wasn’t a total asshole.

The matter of how Vash had managed to pull off what he’d done didn’t come up for a while—first because they were all still too frazzled to talk about it, then because Vash had to move into the back of the truck to calm the Plant down. That left Meryl and Wolfwood alone, but it seemed like neither of them knew how to address it.

You saw that too, right? What he was turning into? What did he look like to you?

There was really no way to ask that question without opening up a whole can of Eye of Michael worms. It was bad enough Meryl knew as much as she did; explaining their religious dogma and why it left Wolfwood with a queasy, about-to-be-struck down feeling would take energy he did not have. So Wolfwood kept his mouth shut and his eyes fixed outside, looking for any signs of trouble.

Shockingly, none came. He thought those idiots would fight harder for their stolen good, but maybe having their transportation taken out and seeing Vash transform into…that had given them second thoughts. He shouldn’t have looked a gift thomas in the mouth. Easy was good. Not having to shoot more was even better. But the silence left Wolfwood with too much time to think.

He’d catch a glimpse of the bruise whenever he glanced down, but when he actually looked, it was gone. He knew that something had changed in July…no, before July. Some event had tipped the scales of his guilt, made him so sick about abandoning Vash that he’d thrown all common sense to the wind and gone back for him. And it must have been something Vash had done; the more Wolfwood thought about it, the more he realized that a lot of his memories around Vash were hazy, odd, slippery as a worm larva trying to burrow back into the sand. Something had changed. Something…

Does it have to do with the Eye? Or…

A wave of nerves collided with the headache his mixed-up memories were giving him. Wolfwood took a deep breath and started chewing on a hangnail. He hadn’t been a nail-biter before Conrad had gotten to him; even then, it was something that only happened when things got really bad. He guessed all this time travel bullshit counted.

“Are you okay?” Meryl asked.

The hangnail came free with a slight stab of pain. The metallic, familiar taste of his own blood drew him back to the present. “Might have to ask Vash about what happened there,” he said finally. “I don’t think he could do any of that before.”

“I don’t either.” Meryl took a deep breath. “But it’s a good thing, though…right? Or at least not a bad one?”

Wolfwood glanced down at his ankle, at the wound that was never as bad as it should’ve been and the explanation he’d been too afraid to ask for. “Reckon it depends on what he does with it.” As long as he doesn’t waste something that special on guys like me.

They had to pull over eventually to give the engine a break. Wolfwood felt his whole body go tense as he and Meryl started to open the back of the truck. He was bracing himself for Vash to look like something else again, something bordering on divine. All he saw was the Plant wrapped up in her bulb and Vash sitting with his back pressed to the tube, head leaning to the side, out so cold he was snoring and drooling.

“At least he feels safe enough to rest,” Meryl said. “I still don’t know how he can sleep like this, though.”

“You get used to it.” Wolfwood tapped his knuckles against the floor. “Hey, Spikey. Rise and shine.”

Vash jerked slightly, snorting on his cut-off snore as his eyes opened. He looked around the space like he was trying to remember how he got there. “…that wasn’t a quick nap,” he said groggily.

“Yeah, doesn’t look like it,” Meryl said. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Vash yawned and stretched. He could be freakishly floppy when he did, but it hadn’t bothered Wolfwood before now. Of course, back then he’d just thought Vash was like the one kid he’d known from the orphanage who had rubber bands for joints and dislocated his shoulder to use as a pillow. Now, Wolfwood half-expected Vash to unpop every limb and twist into a form that looked more like his sister’s.

And who cares if he does? It’s just Vash. You know him.

Wolfwood forced himself to remember the little kid at the start of all this, to imagine that kid chatting away as he stood up. “…always a little tired after electricity. Not sure what’s up with that.” Vash smiled sheepishly. “I hope I didn’t scare you guys too much.”

“No, of course!” Meryl said, maybe a little too quickly. “It was just…unexpected, that’s all.”

“Yeah, for us, you were just saying how much it sucked being specialized,” Wolfwood added—even though, for once, the time travel bullshit had nothing to do with his headache. “Guess you decided to do something about that.”

Vash laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. Something like that.” He turned around and started checking on the bits and bobs the Plant was hooked up to. “It’s been a lot to take in. Livio’s been really helpful…”

The name slammed into Wolfwood’s chest, nearly knocking the breath out of him. He had to force the next words out: “Did you just say …?”

“Oh! Yeah, I was going to tell you!” Vash turned to face him again, a bright grin on his face. “I stuck around after last time, just to keep an eye on things…I guess whatever you wrote to him worked, because he ran and hid when those guys came back. They really wanted him for some reason, but…” His smile looked a little pleased with himself, and a little embarrassed at the same time. “…guess they didn’t know a famous outlaw was in town.”

Wolfwood’s brain struggled to take all the new information in. “So…Livio’s…?”

“On Ship Three. I figured that was the safest place.”

He remembered, then.

He hadn’t even been on the ship five minutes and he was already itching for a cigarette. The entire situation was too weird. There was a spaceship in the damn sandstorm and he was on it, waiting for Vash to wake up from his dirt nap. He’d taken to twirling his lighter, drawing a few agitated looks from some of the ship’s occupants. He thought about actually lighting it, just to be a contrary asshole, but he wasn’t looking to get kicked out.

“Nico?”

The nickname nearly made him drop the lighter.

He was afraid to look. The whole situation felt so unreal; he was sure he was hallucinating. Brain damage, wistful thinking, whatever. But the sound of hesitant footsteps forced him to look up out of instinct, his body bracing itself for an attack.

An attack didn’t come. The figure stopped a safe distance away, staring openly. It had been ten years. He was twenty, maybe twenty-one, a grown man now. So much about him had changed: the broad shoulders, the sudden extra height (since when had he been the taller one, since when), the clean clothes, the overall vibrancy that he’d grown into. But he still wore his hair the same way–fair white and scruffy, half-pulled back now.

And he had the same golden eyes.

“...Livio?”

The smile was the same, too. That same smile he wore when the Tomas chicks ate out of his hand the first time, or when Wolfwood showed off his lighter tricks. He smiled like the world was a good place, like those little miracles were proof that everything was just and beautiful.

Wolfwood could almost believe that too for a second. He didn’t even protest when Livio practically tackled him in a hug. “I knew you were alive,” Livio said, his voice thick with tears. “I knew it.”

Crybaby, Wolfwood wanted to tease. Words didn’t come. He just held onto his brother with everything he had.

The full story came out after that. Livio was practically tripping over himself, excited to explain every little thing about the ship, the crew, the place he’d apparently been living for the past nine years. They had these things called Flora on board. He was working in the medical bay as an assistant. Vash came up a lot. Vash this, Vash that. Vash visited regularly and taught Livio how to fight and brought him back things from the deserts of No Man’s Land. Vash was the one who had brought him here to begin with, found him outside of Hopeland and brought him to safety.

Vash the Stampede had saved Livio’s life.

That fact cemented itself in Wolfwood’s mind the more he thought about it. That other version of Ship Three still existed, but it felt more and more like a hazy memory, an odd dream. Real and unreal. Maybe it had happened somewhere else, but it was being scrubbed away, replaced by a time when Livio was alive.

Then the rest sank in.

Livio was alive, his Livio was alive. There was no gunfight on the steam ship, no gun barrel pressed to Livio’s temple. The ship had still nearly hit Hopeland, turned there by Legato for whatever reason, but they’d been able to stop it. They still went to Ship Three…still left in a rush when Meryl and Roberto had been taken…except this time, no, no, they’d taken him, too, fucking Zazie had stolen Livio and Wolfwood had ridden into July City with his mind only half on the mission and half on popping that little worm freak’s head off with his bare hands…

But only half.

Because three people had entered that elevator and kept going down, two injured but alive. Because when the adrenaline had faded, when he’d finally managed to wrench his fingers off the trigger and remind himself that he couldn’t shoot Elendira, as much as he wanted to…

He could’ve followed the others down, but he hadn’t. He’d still taken the other elevator up with Vash. He’d still walked down that hallway, Vash just behind him.

What a load of a babysitting job this turned out to be.

“Wolfwood?”

His body jerked away from the sudden touch of Meryl’s hand on his arm. She looked worried. Vash did, too, but nervous at the same time. Like he had some idea of what was going through Wolfwood’s head…like he knew…

But it’s done now.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He could still remember Vash’s eyes behind those sunglasses. Soft, nonjudgmental. Kind.

Hey, Wolfwood? Thanks for everything.

Wolfwood tore his gaze away and ran.

Meryl shouted after him, but the sound quickly grew silent. Or maybe he just stopped noticing. His mind stayed fixed on one truth, one solid and fixed point in the mess that his life had turned into.

Vash the Stampede had saved Livio’s life.

And Wolfwood had given him up to Knives anyway.

.

“Wolfwood!”

Meryl’s brain was a scrambled mess. Vash’s confession had shifted in her memories, layering a blanket of new memories over what had once happened. No longer was the white-haired man a gun-wielding phantom who had fallen off the edge of the sand steamer, limp and lifeless. He was Livio—bright and smiling as he ran into Vash’s room to hug him tightly, introducing himself politely as they followed Luida to the Geoplant, shielding her and Roberto from Zazie even though they’d just met. The clashing memories were enough to make her feel woozy, but she knew that whatever Wolfwood was feeling had to be worse.

His brother was dead, and then he wasn’t. That was a lot bigger than a few scars and an absent bruise.

But before she could go after him, a hand gently rested on her shoulder. “Let him go,” Vash said. “I think he’s got a lot on his mind.”

Meryl looked up at Vash in surprise. He was staring after Wolfwood with a tight jaw and eyes that were starting to look teary. For a moment, Meryl’s attention was torn in two. Wolfwood was obviously upset, but so was Vash. She weighed her options, tried to figure out which of them would be more likely to open up to her. The deciding factor was knowing, deep down, who Wolfwood would want her to choose.

“Are you okay?” Meryl asked.

Vash shook his head. His hand dropped off her shoulder as he turned and started closing back up the truck. “Nai founded the Eye of Michael,” he said. “I didn’t poke around too much, don’t worry. I just…had to know.’ He hesitated in front of the truck’s closed doors, his shoulders visibly tense even under his bulky jacket. “He’s the reason Nico was taken away. Nico, all those other kids…” She heard a soft thump as his head hit the doors. “He’s the reason I’m trying to learn more about my Gate.”

“To protect Livio?”

“To protect myself.” Vash wrapped his arms around himself tightly. “I took Livio off Ship Three for an away mission. He wanted to help more…he’s a good kid, you know? I didn’t know Nai was in the area until he showed up at the hotel. He’d seen us together, asked me if Livio knew what I am. Of course he does. I told him years ago. But when I told Nai that, he…grabbed my arm and I started to just…” He gripped his right arm more tightly. “…unravel. I was changing. I guess that’s normal, that’s something Independents can do, but I didn’t know that then. He knew. He knows how my own body works better than I do.”

Vash laughed harshly, tearfully.

“I couldn’t stop him. I was scared. He left me looking like a…a monster, told me to see if the humans accepted me then…”

Immediately, Meryl stepped closer to Vash. He flinched away from her at first, but after a few slow, deep breaths, he turned to face her. “So, uhm, I can transmit emotions and thoughts through touch when I’m like that,” he admitted. “So, I did scare Livio when he came back. But we talked things out. And he’s still my…” He laughed again, burying his face in his hands. “He’s more a brother to me now than my actual brother.”

Vash sank into a crouch. Meryl only hesitated for a second before hugging him tightly. She didn’t feel any emotions that weren’t hers, which was probably for the best. Her own growing anger was bad enough. “I’m so sorry, Vash.”

“I miss my brother,” Vash said. “I miss Nai. I love Nai. But the day he cut off my arm, he said he was Millions Knives now, and Knives…Knives has hurt almost everyone I love. He’s hurt me, and acted like that’s a good thing...he killed my…” He choked on a sob and hugged her back tightly. “I’m…I’m so angry at him. Meryl, I think I hate him. I don’t want to feel that way. I don’t…”

“I know. I know,” Meryl said softly. Even justified hatred didn’t feel very good. She knew from experience. “I’m sorry, Vash. I wish…”

She wished she knew what to say, what to do. But she was an only child and a normal human who would never have to deal with the kind of pain Vash had. All she could do was observe.

Again.

That terrible feeling of helplessness gripped her ribs, making it feel hard to breathe. Meryl pushed down her own urge to cry—even if at least some of the tears were sympathetic ones, it didn’t feel right for her to cry now—and started humming Vash’s song as she stroked his hair. It was all she had to offer for action. It didn’t feel like much of anything, not against the sheer mountains of pain Vash must have been feeling.

But to her surprise, Vash’s tears began to quiet. He didn’t hum along, but he still seemed soothed. His breathing slowed. His grip grew a little less desperate. Eventually, he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his tears away. “Thanks,” Vash whispered.

Meryl shrugged, suddenly unable to meet Vash’s eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve done so much for me.” His fingers rested over the place she’d been burned during the Big Fall. “You pulled me out of the fire. You defended me. You listened. A lot of people can’t even listen but you do. When I’m with you I feel understood.” He smiled at her. “We’re not even the same species, so that’s kind of a big deal.”

It sounded so much bigger when he said it that way.

Vash stood up, dusting the sand off his pants as he did. “I know there’s no easy answers,” he said, “not to this. But it does feel a little better saying it all out loud.”

“I can see that. Hey, Vash?” There was at least one thing she could say, and it was something she was pretty sure Vash needed to hear. “I know you don’t want to hate him, but…hate and anger aren’t the same thing, you know? You’re allowed to be angry with him, even if you still love him. He has hurt you.”

Vash nodded. “Yeah.” Then, “Don’t tell Nico I said this, but at this point I’m not even mad at him for hurting me. Lots of people have hurt me by now. I’m mad that he acts like he isn’t hurting me. No matter what I say…” He sighed. “Other people have changed. So far…he won’t.”

That won’t seemed so heavy, as if Vash was starting to realize there may not come a day when Knives would. She wondered what that would mean for the future—a future that, so far, still seemed to lead to July City.

What else can I do?

Is there anything I can do?

“Will you be okay watching the truck alone? I want to try and talk to Nico about some things.”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” She had a feeling if no one had managed to catch up to them so far, they were in the clear. “Worst case scenario, I can always hit someone with it on purpose this time.”

Vash laughed and leaned over for one more hug. “That’s true.”

His laugh sounded genuine, and his steps weren’t so heavy as he went in the direction Wolfwood had gone. But Meryl still felt a tightness in her chest as she watched him walk away.

Wolfwood said he was twelve when he was taken, that he was about twenty-two now. Depending on how long it had been since their last portal, Vash could have anywhere from nine years to months until the day she met him in the future. Was that enough time?

Was there anything else she could do?

.

He’d smoked his way through the rest of a pack by sundown.

Wolfwood didn’t know why. They weren’t making him any calmer. His hands still shook every time he tried to light them. The sting when they burned all the way down to his fingertips or lips wasn’t harsh enough to be real punishment. He couldn’t even say he was doing it to kill himself faster. Any cancer cells the cigarettes might have spawned would be undone with the next vial. And there wouldbe another vial, and another, and one after that. Not because the orphanage needed him. Because he was a coward who couldn’t even die right.

Bastard, miserable piece of shit, you should’ve just let him kill you, a lot of people would be better off if you’d just…

He heard footsteps. Wolfwood didn’t have to turn around. He knew the tread of those boots by now, same as he’d learned Livio’s footsteps when they were kids. Wolfwood didn’t say anything. Couldn’t bring himself to.

“...Nai sends you after me, doesn’t he? Is that how we meet?”

Wolfwood flinched. He had this sudden mental image of Vash standing there with his gun drawn, aimed right at the back of Wolfwood’s head. He wouldn’t fight it if it were. He deserved that. He deserved worse. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp. “How’d…?”

Vash must’ve shrugged; Wolfwood could hear the rustling of his jacket, the soft myeh Vash would make sometimes. “I looked into the Eye of Michael after I found Livio,” he said. “It wasn’t hard to put together. The two angels sent by God kind of gave it away.” He huffed, sad or amused or both, it was hard to tell. “He’s always been dramatic.”

Wolfwood wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or scream. He tried to will that gun into Vash’s hands. Tried to tell himself that he wasn’t hearing softness in that stupid voice, again. “He got it in his head that you needed looking after,” Wolfwood said. “You were going to July anyway, but he wanted to make sure you got there in one piece. I volunteered.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the full truth, either, but the full truth didn’t matter. Vash needed to know he’d volunteered. He needed to understand…

“Because they’d leave Livio alone if you did?”

Damn it, Vash.

Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder. There was no gun in Vash’s hands, no betrayed look in his eyes. “You said,” Vash continued, “you could handle it. That you wanted it to be you, not any of the others. I’m guessing they came back for Livio…”

“Stop.”

“...because they knew you two were close. Did they threaten him anyway?”

“Stop.”

“Say they’d leave him and the others alone if you…”

“Who gives a shit?!” Wolfwood was on his feet so fast it made him dizzy. The cigarette fell from his lips only half-smoked, but he didn’t care. “It doesn’t matter why I did it!”

“Of course it does - “

“No, it doesn’t, Vash!” Wolfwood wanted to grab Vash by his stupid jacket and shake some sense into him. He wanted to turn and run away. The conflicting impulses froze him in place, body tense and shaking. “Stop trying to justify this! Stop talking yourself out of being angry with me! You should be angry with me!”

“Why?”

“Why…” Wolfwood growled in frustration and rubbed his eyes. “What part of this isn’t sinking in? You saved one of the people I love most, and I handed you over anyway. That’s how I repaid you. I’m worse than low. You should hate me. Just…” He could finally move again, stepping forward to shove Vash as hard as he could. “...fucking hate me, damn you!”

Vash barely staggered. Wolfwood might as well have shoved a brick wall. At that proximity, Wolfwood had a full view of Vash’s eyes. He looked so deeply sad that it felt like a knife to the chest. But not the sorrow of grief or betrayal Wolfwood remembered from after Knives had cut his arm off. This was something else.

Empathy.

“Wolfwood,” he said quietly, “did you follow me back to Ship Three for Nai? Was that part of it?”

He could’ve lied. Maybe if he did, Vash would finally take the justice he deserved. But it would ruin him, too, so Wolfwood told the truth. “No. The job was done when all that happened. Contract fulfilled.”

“So…what I’m hearing is that you owed me nothing, not even on Nai’s behalf, and you…stayed with me for a week until I was let out of that cell? Held me when I was scared? You nearly gave up going home for me…because you wanted to?”

“Because I did owe you,” Wolfwood corrected. His voice sounded weak to his own ears, pathetic. “After what I’d done, I couldn’t just walk away. I’m already a monster, I couldn’t…” He took a deep breath. “It should’ve been someone else. You deserved better than me.”

Vash nodded. And then he smiled. “You know,” he said, “monsters don’t cry like this.”

Was he crying? When had he started? Wolfwood desperately scrubbed them off his cheeks, leaving smears of dust and ash instead. “Don’t,” he whispered again. “Please. Just…damn it…”

“I was mad at first, for the record.”

“Good.”

“But you know what I kept thinking about?” Vash looked away, staring out over the desert landscape. “For a long time, I’d look for Nai whenever I left Ship Three. All I wanted was for him to come back and apologize. If he’d just…” Vash’s voice broke; he shook it off and rested his hand on Wolfwood’s shoulder. “You came back for me. You’ve tried to make things better. My own twin won’t do that, but you have. And that’s why I forgive you for whatever’s coming. Because I want to. Because I know you’re not a monster.” He squeezed Wolfwood’s shoulder gently. “My decision, Nico. Don’t try to talk me out of it.”

He didn’t deserve this. Nicholas D. Wolfwood didn’t deserve that kind of grace and he never would. But here was Vash, giving it freely.

His knees finally gave out. Wolfwood collapsed, forehead pressed to the sand. He apologized, over and over, for all of it. What he done (would do) to Vash. What he’d done (was doing) in the name of the Eye. For every drop of blood on his hands. He didn’t ask forgiveness, because he still didn’t feel he deserved it, but he’d burn alive if he didn’t confess how low he truly was. If he didn’t at least apologize.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. Vash hummed quietly, that wordless tune he’d been using since he was a kid. Wolfwood didn’t have the strength to push him away, didn’t have it in him to reject that forgiveness. He still didn’t think he deserved it, but he wanted it. Absolution felt like pain medication after a long contract, like the first hit of nicotine, like Livio’s embrace on Ship Three. Like those fleeting moments when life felt beautiful and kind.

Eventually, he ran out of things to confess. Vash hadn’t let go; Wolfwood had long given up fighting against it. When he did pull away, it was only far enough to look Vash in the eyes. “He’s going to kill you,” Wolfwood said. It was the truth he’d been too afraid to say, but what consequences were there now? Livio was alive, so the future could be changed. Vash already knew what he’d do one day, so there was no more fear of judgment. What was the worst that could happen? “He’s got some crazy plan to wipe out humanity and he needs you to do it. He needs whatever it is you can do. Something about a bridge, I don’t know. They don’t tell me these things. But whatever it is…”

“He doesn’t care how much he has to break me to get it,” Vash finished. He didn’t sound surprised. “Because Knives knows best, right?” He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “And he probably thinks I’ll just go along with it.”

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t need you to do it willingly.”

Vash sighed, pulling away fully to sit down in the sand. “No. I guess not.”

From that angle, Wolfwood could see how red and puffy Vash’s eyes were. “Geez, don’t cry over me…”

“I was crying about Nai, so don’t worry.”

“That’s worse.” Wolfwood huffed as he settled down himself, staring out over the wastes in front of them. “How old is…?”

Livio. How old was he now? How tall had he gotten? Did he still talk to his imaginary friend, ask for the same stories, cry at every big emotion, good or bad? Was he healthy? Was he happy?

“I have a picture. Do you want to see?”

Wolfwood’s heart leapt up into his throat. He had the new memories, of course, he had some idea of how Livio looked grown-up and untouched by Conrad and his needles, but a picture felt more real, somehow. Vash reached somewhere into his jacket and pulled out a photograph. It showed a Livio who looked to be in his teens, wearing the white clothes of Ship Three. The sleeves were a little short, so he’d probably had a growth spurt recently. He was grinning, holding up a tablet that showed he’d scored a 90 on something.

“That’s when he passed the exams to enter the medical program,” Vash explained. “The kids usually start their career training in their late teens. He’s sixteen now, so he’s started this year. He wants to be a doctor so he can go back to Hopeland and help the kids. And he wants to see you again one day.”

Wolfwood could feel tears forming in his eyes. He passed the photo back to Vash to avoid getting it wet. “Doctor, huh? Didn’t know he could handle blood like that.”

“He’s tougher than he looks. Actually…” Vash stood up and held out his hand to Wolfwood. “I can tell you about when he picked that path, if you want. But we should get back to the truck. Meryl’s probably worried about us.”

Wolfwood nodded and took Vash’s hand. “Yeah,” he said as he stood up. “Yeah, sounds good.”

They walked back to the truck side-by-side. Vash told Wolfwood about the dustlung outbreak that happened when Livio was thirteen, his second year on the ship. He hadn’t been in any danger, having already had it while he was at the orphanage, and he took advantage of that to volunteer with the kids on board. He’d spent weeks in quarantine, helping distribute medicine, telling stories, keeping their spirits up as best he could.

“They all loved him by the end of it,” Vash finished as the truck came into sight. “He probably could’ve started a child gang if he wanted to. They still think he’s really cool.” Vash smiled fondly. “He is, to be fair.”

“He always had potential. He caught a girl who nearly fell off the roof once. Never been prouder of anyone in my life.” Despite the deep ache in his chest, Wolfwood found himself smiling, too. “You realize that hiding out in Hopeland and fighting deacons counts as doing something stupid, right?”

“Maybe, but I don’t regret it. He means something to you. He…means something to me, too.” Vash’s footsteps slowed, his expression suddenly growing uncomfortable. “I’m not trying to replace you, I promise. He really does want to see you again one day. I’m glad he’s in my life, but I wish…I wish it was you.”

The ache in his chest suddenly had a name. Wolfwood had to take a few deep breaths before he could respond. “It’s…I’m not mad at you. Don’t resent you or anything. He’s doing better than most of us could hope for.”

Vash nodded. “You can still be upset about the situation. Even around me. I won’t take it personally or anything.

Maybe Vash wouldn’t take it personally, but he’d still feel Wolfwood’s pain a little too deeply. That was almost as bad as him taking it personally. “Moping about it won’t fix anything,” Wolfwood said. “I’d rather focus on the fact that he’s okay now.”

And he’d stay that way if Wolfwood had anything to say about it. He had two reasons to steer Vash’s future now. If Livio was dragged to July, that meant he was in danger.

I won’t let them hurt him again.

Should he tell Vash everything he was going to face? Would that be too dangerous? Meryl got out of the truck and started walking to them before he could decide. I’ll talk to her about it. She might know what to do.

“Are you okay?” Meryl asked.

“Better now,” Vash said. “Right, Nico?”

“I’m functional.” And hopefully he didn’t look too much like he’d been crying. “Do we know where we’re going? Don’t think just driving around is going to get us anywhere fast.”

“I do! I can navigate. We’ll have to keep moving so eventually someone else will have to drive…”

Vash kept chatting as he walked away, but Meryl hung back. Wolfwood thought she was going to say something to him; instead, she gave him a quick, one-armed hug before running to catch up to Vash.

Oh.

Maybe the gesture shouldn’t have been a surprise after their conversation last time, but Wolfwood still couldn’t quite believe it had happened. It was more grace and forgiveness that he didn’t deserve, and yet neither Meryl nor Vash seemed to care about that. They gave it freely anyway.

Three reasons, he decided as he followed the two of them. He had three reasons to fight for the future.

If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was fight.

.

Vash barely had to be bullied into sleeping first that night, which really spoke to how tired he was. Meryl was glad she didn’t have to fight him about it, and just as glad that it gave her a chance to talk to Wolfwood.

“Do you think we should tell him everything?” Wolfwood asked.

“I…” Meryl sighed. “I don’t know. It feels drastic, but maybe…”

Her hands clenched the steering wheel. She’d been thinking about the changed events of the future while the boys were gone. As it turned out, Livio’s survival hadn’t just influenced her later interaction with Wolfwood.

“What do you remember about July now?”

“Uh…lot of it’s the same, up ‘til we find you in the tower. Elendira hurt…” Wolfwood took a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough to hide the note of rage in his voice. “…Livio. And Roberto looked like he had some blood on him.”

“That’s his. Livio tried to be a distraction, so he got most of the nails, but Roberto…he still got hit. But not in his gut like before. Just his arm.” Which was still potentially bad. The words brachial artery and don’t want to mess with this her were thrown out there. But…

“Wolfwood, he was alive when I went back up for Vash.” Meryl felt her eyes start filling up with tears. “He still gave me the derringer, but he was alive. He and Livio were going to get out of the city together.”

“…Shit,” Wolfwood breathed. “Damn. We really did something, huh?”

Meryl nodded and reached up to wipe the tears away. “And that’s a good thing. I’m grateful, I really am. But I was thinking, maybe all of this…we can change things, sure, but what I’m worried about is that no matter what we do, Knives is never going to stop. We can make Vash realize what he’s like, we can save Livio and Roberto, but that doesn’t fix that Knives wants Vash back.”

“Right. Right.” Wolfwood groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If we convince Vash not to go to July willingly…

“And if no one is ever able to catch him for the bounty…”

“God only knows what kind of tantrum Knives will pitch.”

“Pretty much.”

“Shit.” Wolfwood rolled the window down and lit a cigarette. “So, we turn this thing towards July and put a bullet in Knives, then?”

“That’s not…first of all, can you even pull something like that off?”

“I’m about ready to give it a shot. Pun fully intended.”

“What happened to dying a normal death?”

“You know the amount of bullshit I’ve already done for my family? I can do one more thing. Killing an angel isn’t that far off from betraying one, if you think about it.”

“…okay, that would make a great quote,” Meryl admitted, “but the plan is still stupid.”

“You got a better one?”

Meryl glanced in the rearview mirror. Vash was still fast asleep, right down to the snoring and drooling combo. “The only person who can beat Knives is Vash,” Meryl said finally. “Maybe…we tell him the truth, if he wants to know it. And then we trust him to do what’s best.”

Wolfwood looked like he was about to bite his cigarette in half from how tight his jaw was. “He shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly. “Even if he’s capable of it…”

“We’ll be there for him no matter what happens,” Meryl said. “I think we’re a lot more capable of that than we are of fighting Knives ourselves.”

Wolfwood sighed out a cloud of smoke. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Not happy about it, but I’ve barely been happy about the way my life is going for…” He paused, then counted on his fingers. “Most of it, so I guess I shouldn’t be too shocked.”

Meryl grimaced. “Well, hopefully you’ll have something to be happy about at the end of all this. Do you mind taking over? I need to write something down.”

Remembering dates took longer than she expected, and she had to ask Wolfwood for help a few times, but before it was her turn to rest, she had a timeline of what was to come written out. “So, we give him this, tell him some of what’s at stake…then it’s his call,” Meryl said. She rubbed her eyes and bit back a yawn. “Only so much we can do now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Wolfwood slowed the car to a stop. “We’ll do it in the morning. Get Vash up, then you get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Meryl went to open the door, but hesitated. “Wolfwood…earlier, when you said ‘family’…”

It was hard to tell in the low light, but she was pretty sure she saw Wolfwood blush a bit. “Listen, it’s your damn fault for letting me tag along this long,” he said. His words were defensive, but his tone had too much honesty in it. “That’s what happens when you feed strays. Everyone knows that.”

Oh.

Meryl stared down at her hands for a moment. It somehow would’ve been easier if he’d said he was in love with her or something. That she knew how to respond to. This felt…bigger, somehow. Maybe it was because of everything they’d been through together, or maybe it was because she knew how important family was to Wolfwood. Either way…

She was surprised to find she didn’t mind the idea.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you with the truck,” Meryl said quietly.

Just like that, any awkwardness was gone between them. Wolfwood laughed, and Meryl started giggling along with him. “Yeah,” he said. He was smiling. It was one of the few real, genuine smiles Meryl had seen on Wolfwood’s face. “Yeah, I am, too.” Wolfwood nudged her gently. “Go on. Sleep.”

It took more effort to wake Vash up than it did to convince him to sleep, but eventually he took Meryl’s place in the passenger seat while she tried to make herself comfortable in the back. Despite the inherent lack of comfort that came with sleeping in a moving vehicle, she found herself dozing off quickly, lulled to sleep by the sound of the motor and the quiet conversation between Wolfwood and Vash.

It was strange to admit that she felt safe, but she did.

.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Wolfwood winced. That wasn’t the best way Meryl could’ve opened the conversation. Vash looked between her and Wolfwood with a confused expression. “Uh, am I grounded or something?” he asked.

“Why bother?” Wolfwood said. “It wouldn’t stop you from doing boneheaded stuff.” No, joking about this wasn’t going to make it any easier. Might as well just jump in. “It’s about your brother.”

And there went the mood, predictably. Wolfwood almost felt guilty, seeing the light go right out of Vash’s eyes, but it was a conversation they had to have. Better to just rip the rest of the bandage off. “I know we talked about some of this yesterday, but things with Knives aren’t going to get any better,” Wolfwood said. “People are going to get hurt. People are going to get killed. And I’m not saying that’s your fault, that’s all on him. But it would be on us if we didn’t warn you.”

Meryl nodded in agreement and held out the timeline she’d written the night before, carefully folded up into a tidy square. “It’s all here,” she said, “if you want to read it. Everything that’s going to happen in the future. We don’t want to force you, but we thought you should have the option. It’s up to you how much you want to know.”

Vash took the paper carefully, as if it were a live worm that might sting him at any second. “I’m the only one who can do something aren’t I?” he said quietly. “Not because it’s my penance. I just…am.” Wolfwood expected him to start tearing up again, but instead Vash just smiled. “How awful is that?”

Meryl hugged him immediately. Wolfwood joined in the embrace. Vash still didn’t shake, didn’t cry. “I have a few years, right?”

“Yeah,” Wolfwood said. “Yeah, you’ve got time.”

“Enough time to be a little selfish?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“There’s a little bar in the place we’re going. No limits on the drinks this time. I want…” He gripped Wolfwood’s arm a bit more tightly. “…I want to have a few drinks with you. Play the piano again. Just be normal for a little while, you know?”

“I don’t think that sounds selfish,” Meryl said, “but it does sound like a good night. I’d love to.”

“Count me in, too,” Wolfwood said. “Think we can convince them to give us free drinks? We are about to be their heroes and all.”

“Can’t hurt to ask.” Vash pulled them both a little closer. “I’m so glad to have you both.”

There were still no tears in his voice, but the earnestness there hit harder than tears. He sounded young again, like the kid locked up and alone, desperate for comfort, happy to find it even in the company of a stranger.

But they weren’t strangers anymore. Wolfwood may not have meant to be so sentimental to Meryl’s face the night before, but he had meant every word.

They were part of his family now, for better or for worse. And he’d do what he had to for them.

.

It felt like a miracle that they made it into town without anything going wrong. The warm welcome they received felt even more surreal as a result. Vash looked just as taken aback as Meryl felt—which led her to wonder how many less-than warm welcomes he’d received lately—but he warmed to the treatment quickly. Wolfwood was much more closed off until a gaggle of kids started following them around, asking questions. He may have kept side-eyeing the adults, but he had no problem chatting with the kids.

“Oh, there was a hundred, at least,” Wolfwood said. He didn’t seem deterred when the claim was met with a chorus of disbelief. “That’s how many I counted.”

“It was ten at most,” Meryl interjected. “We wouldn’t have made it out if there was one hundred.”

“Sure we would’ve. That’s thirty…something each? We could take that many.”

Meryl narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t tell if there was a compliment hidden in the tall tales boasting—if Wolfwood really thought she could handle thirty-ish armed bandits solo—or if he was just messing with her. Vash interjected before she could think about it too hard: “It sure felt like a hundred.” He finished inputting something into the various machines the Plant was connected to and stepped back. “That place was so messy, you couldn’t turn a corner without running right back into someone – “

“Look!” yelled one of the kids.

The Plant was peering out of her bulb. While some of the kids shrank away at the sight, even more pressed forward, poking their heads through the railing that separated the guests from the equipment. “Easy, don’t trample each other.” Wolfwood scooped up one smaller child who was dangerously close to being squished by the railing and set her down next to him. “You’ve never seen this before?”

Meryl wasn’t surprised when the kids shook their heads. She’d only seen a Plant’s body in textbook illustrations before that day on the sand steamer. The Plant’s visible eye moved from Vash, to her, to Wolfwood. Did she recognize them? Had they met before, or did she know them through Vash?

“Do you want to say ‘hi’ to her?” Vash offered. The girl Wolfwood had moved nodded. “Here.”

The girl took Vash’s offered hand and walked closer to the tank with him. A nearby Plant engineer and a few security guards watched carefully. Meryl was a little surprised they hadn’t tried to stop them, but maybe they wanted to see where this was going. “Just put your hand right here,” Vash said. “She’s friendly. I promise.”

The girl pressed her hand against the glass with no hesitation, reaching up as high as she could. Her gaze was intense at first, but brightened into excitement as the Plant bulb opened more, giving a full view of the Plant’s face. One long, slender arm reached out as the Plant reciprocated the touch. The girl jumped up and down in place. “She’s smiling!” she said. “Do you guys see that? She’s smiling!”

“I told you she’s friendly,” Vash said. There was joy in his voice as he watched the moment of connection. “Anyone else want to say hello?”

In the end, every one of the kids, even the ones who’d backed away at first, came forward to touch the glass. Most just gave a simple greeting, a hi or a hello, but a few had more to say.

I think you’re really pretty.

Thanks for giving us power and everything.

I’m glad you’re back safe.

Every kind word made Vash’s smile grow more radiant—not necessarily bigger, but definitely brighter. Meryl could especially see it in his eyes, in the way they softened, taking in the scene as though it was everything he’d wanted.

And maybe it was. This was humanity treating Plants with kindness, appreciation. Everything Knives seemed to think would happen. This was just a small moment, but it was something.

There has to be more I can do in the future. I’m a reporter, aren’t I? I can use that to advocate for the Plants. No matter what changed about the future, that she could do.

I won’t let his faith in us be for nothing.

“I have never seen that happen with a Plant before,” said the Plant engineer as the last of the kids left and the Plant retreated back into her bulb.

“I think she’s glad to be back with her people,” Vash said cheerily. “Or maybe I have the magic touch.”

Not even Wolfwood and Meryl’s looks of alarm at the semi-confession were enough to knock the smile off his face. He was practically floating as they got settled into town and headed to the bar. Meryl kept bracing herself for something to go wrong, for people to decide that turning on Vash was worth the money it might bring them, but it didn’t happen. They were welcomed into the bar as heroes. As Wolfwood had hoped, the drinks were free. Meryl kept her own consumption to a minimum, and Wolfwood looked like he was holding himself back, too, even though he had more than her. Vash had more than both of them. He didn’t get falling-down drunk, but he was a lot less hesitant to get on the piano this time. His cheer made the lyrics of the song he was singing a bit surprising.

And the waitress is practicing politics as the businessmen slowly get stoned…

But she guessed that made sense in its own way.

Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone.

It was exactly the kind of normal night Vash had wanted. Meryl was hesitant to end it for him, but she was starting to nod off at the bar, and there was only so much alcohol Vash could consume before he got dangerously drunk. Wolfwood ended up preemptively carrying him, just in case he wasn’t sober enough to make it back. “Don’t whine to me if you have a headache tomorrow,” Wolfwood cautioned as they reached their motel room door.

Vash giggled. “I have a secret. Guys, I have…”

“Hold on,” Meryl said. She opened the door and let the boys in first before following. “Okay. What secret?”

Vash giggled again. “I process alcohol more efficiently than humans do,” he said in a loud whisper. “I probably won’t have a headache at all.”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes. “Showoff,” he said as he dumped Vash onto the bed. Vash’s giggles turned into full laughter. “At least tell me you’ve exploited that to win a bet or something.”

“Oh, yeah. I needed the bus money.”

“I’m only a little mad at you, then.” Wolfwood started yanking off Vash’s boots. “You should still get some sleep.”

“Mmm, yeah. Should probably head out early tomorrow.” Vash waited until his boots were off before he curled up on his side, grabbing one of the pillows and clutching it to his chest. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Meryl tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. She could only stare helplessly at Wolfwood as he put his hands on his hips and stared down at the floor, his jaw flexing as he mulled it over. Vash lifted his head to look at them. “Hey, don’t look sad,” he said. “I had a good time. And I think I’ll go back home after this. See everyone again…figure things out.” His head dropped back to the mattress. “It’ll be good for me, I think.”

“That’s a good plan.” Meryl sat next to him. He was still smiling, and it wasn’t the somber smile he wore when he was upset. He really did look happy, just tired. “We’ll be there in the morning to get you there, okay?”

“I know.” Vash’s eyes drifted shut. “Thank you, guys.”

Meryl started carefully stroking Vash’s hair. He didn’t seem to need the comfort; he was out cold in seconds. Wolfwood shrugged his jacket off and stood over the two of them with his hands in his pocket. He was wearing the clothes Vash had gotten for him. They made him look older, less like a child playing dress-up as an adult and more like the early twentysomething that he was. “Probably a smart idea to get out of here early,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Meryl replied.

“Still sucks, though.”

“Yeah. It sucks.” Meryl sighed and got up. “Almost everything about the situation he’s in sucks.”

Wolfwood nodded in agreement. His gaze drifted to the window as Meryl walked to their bag. She started her usual routine of checking what supplies they had. Wolfwood was low on ammo. That could be a problem in the future, though if they were leaving before even the shops opened, they might just have to deal with it. She should fill up their water bottles before she went to sleep. She…

The water bottle in her hands was suddenly in Wolfwood’s. “You sleep,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”

Meryl wanted to argue, but the sudden feeling of heaviness sweeping over her won out quickly. “Just be sure you sleep, too,” Meryl said as she stood up shakily. “We don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Yeah, true.” Wolfwood grabbed the other water containers and started for the bathroom. “I’ll get us refilled and then right to bed. Promise.”

Meryl was barely able to get changed into something more comfortable before crawling into bed. She could see Vash in the next bed over, curled up and facing her. He looked so young and peaceful. She didn’t think he’d even looked so peaceful when she knew him in the past. The last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was the sound of Wolfwood crawling into his own bed.

She hoped he slept well, too. Not just to face what the next day might bring. He deserved the rest.

They all did.

.

Vash, true to what he’d said, barely showed any signs of the last night’s alcohol consumption, aside from chugging a lot of water directly from the sink. Wolfwood wanted to be jealous, but he was too wrapped up in the big picture.

“Where’s your head at?” he asked as they finished packing up.

Vash shrugged. “Trying to focus on one thing at a time. I’ll make better decisions about Nai when I’m back home.” He glanced at Wolfwood. “If you don’t have to leave before…do you want to see him?”

His first instinct was to say yes. Even from a distance, even to see if Livio was okay for himself. But he had that fresh memory of Livio on Ship Three, clear and vivid as any of his old memories, even if deep down he didn’t really feel like he’d experienced it himself. He could hold onto that for now. Besides, for all the forgiveness he’d been given lately, he didn’t think he was ready. Didn’t think that he deserved to be in Livio’s presence again. When all of this was over, maybe, but for now…

“Probably better if I keep my distance. I appreciate it, though.” He gave Vash a light thump on the arm. “Just promise me you won’t let him reach your level of stupid decisions, yeah?”

Vash chuckled. “I’m trying. He’s got more common sense than me, but…well, you’ll have a lot to talk about.” He stood up and glanced out the window. The light outside was still orange, and the sounds of the early risers getting to their jobs were starting to filter through. “Maybe I’ll come back here one day. It doesn’t seem like a bad place.”

Hopefully, if he did ever come back, he’d receive the same warm welcome, or at least one of indifference.

They didn’t see many people on the street as they left, but the few they did were friendly enough. Stay safe, come back soon, all of that. Wolfwood still stayed cautious until they were out of sight. He’d heard about how quickly Jeneora Rock had turned on Vash when they needed the money. A repeat of that would ruin Vash’s seemingly good cheer.

The appearance of a portal not too far from town wasn’t enough to make Wolfwood feel any safer. He was almost hesitant to hand over his lighter, much as the item had started feeling like a good luck charm. “Straight home, okay?” Wolfwood said.

“Yes, Nico, I’m going straight home.” Vash pocketed the lighter, hugged Wolfwood, hugged Meryl. “And I’ll think about it. About…all of it.”

Meryl was slow to let go of him. “I’m really sorry,” she said quietly. “I know it’s a lot to put on you. If there was any other way, we’d take it.”

“I know.” Vash’s hand rested on her shoulder for a moment before he looked out over the horizon. “See you in the future.”

“See you, Vash.”

They lingered in front of the tear in the scenery, watching Vash walk away, whistling as he went. “He’ll get there okay,” Meryl said quietly, “right? If he were going to get into trouble, we wouldn’t be leaving right now.”

“I think so,” Wolfwood said. “It’s the after I’m worried about.”

Meryl nodded and looked back at the portal. “It feels different this time.”

He knew what she meant. Going through these doors had always felt like stepping through the unknown before. This time, he had a strange feeling that he knew what was on the other side of that door—or, at least, had a better idea than he had.

Vash only had about four years. That didn’t leave them with many incidents to run into.

“We’ve handled it all so far.” Wolfwood held out a hand to Meryl. “I’ll stay close.”

Meryl nodded and took his hand. “I will, too.”

And with that, they stepped through, another step closer to a future that was feeling more and more uncertain.

[wuffzilla]

I can’t recall enough of this dream and I'm so SAD. I know I was having lots of fun and am LIVID my alarm interrupted it.

Detail list:

Underground civilization in this long ass HUGE cave system

It seemed to be in present time, maybe a scoonch in the future??

Most stores were in the bigger caves and had goods stacked to the ceiling of these freakishly high caves. I’m talking skyscraper tall. I’m pretty sure I saw clouds around the top of some.

For some reason, I could kind of easily climb these and try to parkour gently across the top of the shelves in the goods, but I kept knocking down boxes.

I thought most people would be pissed about me accidentally destroying supplies, but it turns out that whoever ran the colony was so stingy about distributing things to the masses that the general public were thrilled and thankful that I was doing this because then they could get the “damaged” goods free or cheap.

And also turns out that the boxes had so much stuffing in them in case of accidental falling that nothing I knocked down was severely damaged, but since it fell from such Heights store policy had to let people buy it cheap.

Also, no one could really tell it was me up there knocking the stuff down apparently. So I go to a store, knock some stuff down, run out and lay low and listen to gossip about the kind of things People need, go to another store do the same thing.

At some point, I learned to fly for some reason, and my brain decided to make it even more like a video game? ?????

While running away after another store invasion, I came across an unpopulated cave system, where the walls were covered in ledges that required some sort of Mario style platforming. I couldn’t just fly all over it for some reason, I had to find the actual starting position before dream body would let me land. But also I was flying near them by flapping my arms ???? I could lift my feet up and point them together at an object, then I could shoot some sort of projectile out of the bottom of my shoes??? They looked suspiciously like Kazooies eggs from Banjo Kazooie???

Anyway first I had to fly close to the wall and shoot to destroy big chunks of coral looking stuff that blocked the platforms. Then fly to the starting location and start runing and hopping while avoiding enemies. There were these golden glowing sea slug looking creatures I could smack and get money out of??? And I was grabbing that while running towards a treasure chest at the end, but then my ALARM WENT OFF.......!!!!!!

[perkwunos]

I’ve been having vivid dreams, which I’ve only just started to remember and write down. Here is one from a few nights ago:

In my dream I was at school with a friend. A professor came up to us and told us that a zoom talk we referenced and criticized in a canvas discussion page never actually got to happen. Meaning, she knew we completely BS’d our discussions. She took it in good spirits but we were both ashamed.

Later we were in a parking lot, in his car, when I spotted a bear nearby. I anxiously told him to make sure the doors and windows were closed and locked but he wasn’t responding. I noticed a bear’s snout start to poke through a small hole somewhere in the car’s ceiling above me, but then it started to descend further and further until it was almost touching me. I got out of the car and ran away, climbing over some trash.

It seemed like I was inside a warehouse, walking by stacks of boxes and furniture.There were cops screaming and pinning people down, saying they’re looking for someone. They did not bother me, however, and I was able to keep walking. Eventually I turned back in the direction to the parking lot, but many people were setting up tables, chairs, other random objects to block the way so that I had to climb over them.

The next night I would have this dream:

In my dream I was back in Mexico City. I was with my family eating at a Chinese restaurant, and people from high school were working as waiters there. I looked out a window and thought I saw UNAM (the big university’s) library, but checking google maps it not only didn’t seem to be it, but I couldn’t find anything on the map that resembled what I was looking at. Later I was walking around the streets still in Mexico City, alone, and trying to look up on google maps where UNAM’s campus was. It seemed very far from where I was, too far to walk, so I gave up on that. I noticed I passed by a red headed American woman (or at least, someone talking in American English), and then I stopped by a fountain where a blonde woman put her face into the fountain’s water and seemed to drink from it; I was put off by this unhygienic act. Now the perspective in my dream altered somewhat, and it was like I was looking at the selfies of this blonde woman—who had an Instagram model kind of look—that she’d taken in different parts of Mexico City. Things started to be narrated by another man, and we ended up in what looked to be an indoor mall where he met up with another guy, as they talked about how this mall visually demonstrated the set of all possible geometrical objects.

The figure of the absent university library is curious, and then there’s the underworld-like role of the warehouse and mall--places of commodities and capital--which both these dreams terminate in, although in the former it is outwardly violent while in the latter there is the promise of what is on the face of it infinite knowledge.

I just recently started a full-time job, and now every morning on my way there I walk by an old, enchanted-looking house. There is some type of fortune telling machine on the porch, next to a witch’s broom, and then painted on the fence nearby is what looks to be a fairy queen: a pale, purple-red-haired woman with a silver crown studded with jewels, holding a sign that says “caer sidhe” (which, as far as I can tell, is combining a Welsh and an Irish word together). The only living thing I’ve seen at that house is a cat, who will meow a lot at me as I pass by but runs away if I stop to pet it. I think constant contact with this fairy house has been making me dream.

This past week, on the evening of the autumnal equinox it suddenly started pouring rain and dropped 10 degrees (F) in a matter of minutes. Since then it’s been significantly cooler, so that it really does feel like fall got ushered in all at once. Walking back home from work Friday evening the air was crisp and slightly chill, but the sun was still out strong, the foliage still mostly green but with accents of brown and red, and there was something like nostalgia in the air; I started thinking about the ‘90s.

[australiancarisi]

Olivia Benson ~ Mother's Day

for @storiesofsvu one year bingo Square: Mother's day fosterDaughter!reader I have this whole universe in my head of Olivia with a teenage foster daughter that I've wanted to write for ages but I've never gotten around to it so maybe there will be more for this??? who knows... I just love Mama bear liv Words: 1264

“Y/n” you felt small poking on your arm. You groaned trying to stay asleep but the poking didn’t stop. You slowly opened your eyes to be greeted by Noah’s toothy smile.

“Yes Noah?” you mumbled

“It’s mother’s day soon” he whispered

“Yes” you whispered back. He climbed onto your bed, taking the wind out of you. With a huff you sat up, your sleep is officially gone.

“Can you help me?”

“With what?” Noah rolled his eyes

“With a present for mama!” he exclaimed. You had been living with Liv and Noah for just under 8 months after you had gotten caught up in the wrong crowd after your mother had died. You had managed to fall through the cracks at child services until you were brought in to svu. It was hard for them to place you and keep you safe so Liv put her hand up to be your foster mum while the case was at trial. It was only meant to only be for the duration of the trial but you were still here 8 months later.

“If I say yes will you leave me alone?” Noah nodded “of course I will. We can go shopping when I pick you up after school on Wednesday”

“But we meet mama at the precinct every Wednesday”

“Just have a think about what you want to get her, and we can hide it in my school bag”

“Promise?”

“Promise” you nodded

Wednesday came and it was your weekly routine. When the final bell rang you walked the few blocks to Noah’s school. He met you at the front gate and from there the two of you made your way the 16th, stopping past a little independent jewellery store where Noah had seen a necklace he wanted to get Liv. You quickly paid for it, stuffing it in your bag and getting to the precinct.

“You guys are a little late, thought I was going to send out an amber alert” Liv joked as you walked into the squad room.

“Yeah sorry, Mr Peterson held us back after the final bell” you rolled your eyes then winked at Noah when Liv wasn’t looking. The little boy giggled following his mum into her office.

When mother’s day rolled around, you woke up early to help Noah make breakfast in bed for Liv.

“Shhh Noah” you laughed quietly as he dusted the flour off his shirt.

“Mama’s gonna love this” Noah smiled as you finished stacking the pancakes on the plate before putting them on the folding tray table. You carried the tray for Noah who raced ahead to wake up Liv.

“Happy mother’s day mum!” Noah all but yelled in Liv’s face after jumping on her bed, wrapping his arms around her.

“Thank you my sweet boy” you placed the tray on the bed and, rather awkwardly, moved away from the pair “What’s all this?” Liv looked at you for a moment before turning her attention to Noah as he answered her.

“Pancakes! Y/n helped me make them! Oh and-“ with lightning speed, Noah ran out of the room for a millisecond, running back in with the present in his hand. “Open! Open! Open!” Liv chuckled and ran her fingers through Noah’s curls. Liv opened the small gift, that Noah had wrapped with a little bit of help.

“Oh, Noah it’s beautiful!” Liv exclaimed lifting the silver dainty necklace from the box “thank you my sweet boy” You leant against the doorframe to Olivia’s room and watched the pair together. They reminded you of you and your mum.

It had just been the two of you your whole life but you never felt like you missed out on anything. Your grandparents wanted nothing to do with your mother when she fell pregnant and your dad went away when you less than 3 years old - so it really was just the two of you. You’d spend weekends at the park or having movie marathons together. You’d cook together and on special occasions, she’d take you to see a broadway. It was the two of you against the world and in the 8 months of living at the Benson house, you had a feeling it was the same for Liv and Noah.

You subtly wiped a tear about to fall from your eye. Liv looked at you, either not noticing the tear or deciding not to say anything.

The rest of the day was spent lounging around the apartment. You putting the final touches on an assignment while Noah played in front of the TV. Taking a great from your homework, you made your way to the kitchen where Liv was making dinner.

“Hi sweetheart, dinner will be ready soon” Liv smiled over her shoulder to you. A moment of silence passed, you took deep breaths. “y/n? are you, okay sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah um” you took a breath to calm yourself “It-its my first mother’s day without mum...and I didn’t really know how it was going to go” Liv set the knife in her hand down, giving you her full attention

“I know y/n, I know how hard it’s been for you this past year and I knew today was going to be hard for you. Just know I’m always here”

“I know” you smiled “It actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. Helping Noah with breakfast, it reminded me of cooking with my mum”

“And thank you for the necklace” Liv touched her neck

“That was all Noah”

“Amanda and I made a deal, since Noah, Jesse and Billie don’t have dad’s in their lives to help with this sort of thing we agreed that we’d help them, me with Jesse and Billie, Amanda with Noah” Liv explained, “Amanda told me that when she asked Noah about getting my present he told her he already had it, so I just assumed it was going to be something he made. I know he’s a smart boy but he definitely did not save his pocket money enough for this”

“It was nothing” you shrugged “But uh... speaking of nothing, I got you this” you held out a small gift bag. Liv smiled and took the bag, her smile growing as she pulled out a small teddy bear.

“I didn’t have an Amanda growing up” you chuckled “The first year I got mum a mother’s day present without her knowing I was 7. I saved my pocket money and bought her a teddy bear. She loved it so much, every year I got her one...” Liv’s eyes filled with tears “so I just thought...it’s stupid I know-“

“It is not stupid, not at all” Liv reached out and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you to her chest. “I love it y/n and I love you” you squeezed her tighter at her words. It wasn’t the first time she had told you that she loved you, but it was the first time that you were letting yourself believe it.

“I love you too Liv” you whispered, you felt Liv’s heart skip a beat as she ran her fingers through your hair.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Noah frowned coming into the kitchen “What’s wrong? Why are you crying y/n?” you hadn’t even noticed that you were

“Nothing’s wrong Noah, happy tears” you smiled at the little boy

“Come on Noah set the table dinner is ready” Liv said, giving you one last squeeze. Your life had changed a lot in a year, some of it had been hell but you were thankfully for what had come out of it.

[ashenprofessor]

Byleth watched as Tormod wriggled his way through the rubble filled doorway. The face palm moment was where his shifting of the bricks blocked them from immediately following. “Great. Just great” they muttered. Scanning the arrangement the Professor wondered how best to proceed.

>perception check Roll: 19!

thanks to tormod's rearranging, there's a few blocks of stone that have been unstabilized and look like they can be pulled out without too much difficulty if byleth puts their back into it. that might at least lower the top of the pile a bit more / rearrange the heap once more to open up more clear foot and hand holds for them to also climb over

Thinking they might have a way through. Byleth pulls out the loose bricks, straining their muscles slightly to do so.

it works! they have to jump back a bit to keep their hands from getting squashed, but like some kind of massive jenga, the heap tumbles again, this time with more edges jutting out for them to climb over

Joining their companion in the new room, they notice the long black gothic style chests taking up the majority of the room. Hoping for some treasure, the professor hours over to the left-hand one and tries to open it. The lid won’t budge. Taking a step back to inspect it, they run their eyes along it looking for a way in.

the long box is sleek and black, and there are a few decorative ridges on the lid, but otherwise nothing particularly noteworthy on a look over

no locks it looks like no, it seems like the boxes are sealed shut somehow. the grooves seem to just be decorative

Feeling defeated, Byleth checks the rest of the room to see if there are any further clues to the boxes nature or even just a way to prise it open.

a countertop stretches the length of the wall behind both of the boxes, and on it are sitting a few stacked plates and bowls, a cuttingboard. byleth can't see any other ways in or out

Seeing no way forward, they confer with Tormod. “I've tried prisining it open but it wouldn't budge" Byleth told Tormod. The set up here indicates somebody or something had been living here ...maybe. "I can't see a way to open these boxes” They say "I would rather leave and try find more fiends" With this Byleth startes to head back towards the doorway. “I've already cleared it a bit more so we can get through"

Returning to the entrance hall, Byleth looks at the two options remaining and heads towards the crumbling door. It looked easier to open.

> Team heads to crumbling door Roll: 52!

byleth and tormod make their way to the far side of the entrance hall, where the only other open door looks like it's all but halfway to falling off anyway. it's not too hard to move the rest of the crumbling wood out of the way. beyond it, a dark hallway greets them, but it looks like when they'd disturbed remnants of the door, they'd also disturbed the long-whiskered creature that'd been making its home under the wood.

> Encounters a fiend! Roll: 2 Wildness, 1 Wariness

Let's Fiendgo these Fiends

[emmyisafanandacon]

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩. (𝐢𝐫𝐥!𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

[FLUFF] Word Count: 1065 words || TW: Swearing

It’s a good day today. You and your boyfriend Karl finally found time to have a nice date outside without the repercussions of a busy schedule tagging behind you both. So you two decided to hang around at a nearby arcade for a different yet fun scene.

As you toyed with the extra large drink you got the two of you to share together, you noticed that you boyfriend was not playing the claw machine he said he was planning to try a while ago.

You swore you left your boyfriend for only 5 minutes, and yet somehow, you found him drowning in a mountain of plushies inside the claw machine.

“KARL!” you rush to the glass box contraption where you can clearly see a grown man buried in a mountain of plushies. Despite the predicament he got himself into, he still throws a small cheery smile towards your direction.

“Uh, hey y/n!” he greets with a sheepish tone in his voice. “Uh... Come here often?”

“How did you get in there???!” you walk around the claw machine for any entrances available. The machine was huge, but you couldn’t find any man-sized panels that you could access. You noted that his shoes were tucked by the side of the machine.

“About that,” he fretted, moving around so he could sit up better in the sea of toys around him, “I found an opening into this claw machine and I thought I could just steal a plushie easily but I fell in...”

Fell in? You look up at the giant glass case and sure enough, the roof of the machine was not sealed, but wide open. The metal bar holding the claw was not blocking the opening, so anyone could have climbed in easily.

Except the machine was probably close to 9 feet in height.

You immediately found yourself giggling at your idiotic boyfriend. “You’re telling me you scaled this,” you gestured at the mechanic monolith, “got yourself stuck in here, and thought it was a good idea?”

Karl’s cheeks start to burn into a slight red, but he still smiles at the absurdity of his logic. “It felt like a good idea at that time.” he weakly excused.

Stifling your giggles, you pat the glass softly as your boyfriend pouts at your amusement. “I should go find an employee around to help us out okay? Stay put, I'll be right back.”

He gave a light frown in response, but he held up his hand against yours through the glass, a silent agreement to the idea. You then set off around the arcade to find an employee. There was a teenaged girl manning the place when you arrived, so she might be around.

Except no luck, no one seemed to be handling the booths, and there were no other visitors in the arcade. Strange, there should be some visitors, even if it’s a weekday, but no matter where you searched, no one seemed to be around.

You head back to the machine, placing down the drink you were holding onto a nearby coin pusher game.

“Sorry Karl, I couldn’t find anyone around to help...”

He gave a little sigh, but flashed a small smile in response. You both fell into silence, pondering on what you should do. You look up at the claw hanging a few feet above Karl, when an idea popped into your head.

“Karl, I have a really bad idea.” He raises a brow at you, leaning a bit closer to hear what you have to say. “We’re going to have to pull you out of the machine.”

He grimaced a little bit, but he nodded in agreement. You pondered for a bit, wondering how you can get him out of a 9 foot box, when your attention fell to the plushies surrounding him.

“Ah, I know!” You tap the glass pointing at the plushies. Your boyfriend’s face started to brighten up, catching on to your little idea as he started piling up the stuffed toys against the glass wall.

After a short while of stacking, the mountain seemed more than tall enough for Karl to reach the top.

Alright, time to win a boyfriend from the claw machine.

He prepares to climb on the mountain, mumbling a little sorry to the stuffed animals like an absolute sweetheart, and steps onto the pile. His feet sink slightly into the plushies, but the mountain still remains.

You grab a nearby stool and try to climb up the machine on your side as Karl’s hands reach the very top. “Ready?” you ask, as you grab one of his arms.

“Try not to fall as well please.” he begs as he positions his feet against the glass to better support himself.

“On the count of three, one... two... three!” you start pulling on your boyfriend as he pulls himself up the machine. He was able to loop a leg over to the other side, and with your guidance, was eventually able to safely land on the other side.

Once both your feet were planted safely on the floor, you both fell into hysterics. As he put on his shoes, you fetched the drink you left, the sides slightly damp, and handed it out to Karl.

He gave a bright beam as he sipped into the drink you held out for him. “Can’t believe you got boxed like a fish,” you tease.

Karl chokes on the drink for a split second, laughing out loud.

“Please don’t tell twitter about this-” “-I am so telling twitter about this.”

He gives a little pout and reaches into the pockets of his hoodie. “Guess you don’t want this then,” he fishes out a medium sized purple frog from his pockets and plops it into your hand.

“Oh my god, you actually got a plushie.”

He gives a cheery smile at you. “Of course I did!”

You laugh at his antics. “Alright, alright, let’s get out of here and go for milkshakes, I’m pretty sure what we just did was a crime,” you grab his arm and start tugging him out while he giggles, following you out of the arcade.

Little did the two of you know, the teenaged girl did see the whole thing and was laughing the whole time in the CCTV cameras. She was really bored with her shift and she doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵! 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘭 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘏𝘈𝘏𝘈𝘏 𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 1𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦!

𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘭’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦

𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵, 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳!

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS DNI

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Requested by: @salemwitch96

request:Hey, I have a request for the holiday prompt. Could you do #1 (decorating the tree ) and #3 (movie marathon) with Billy Bibbit. Thank you, and Happy Holidays!

warnings: pure tooth rotting fluff with some swearing

An: thx for sending this in! It just screams billy and I’m glad u asked me to write it. Without further ado!

Billy was humming along to whatever Christmas song was playing on the radio as we slowly swayed. I could feel his smile on my neck as we completed another circle. I ran my fingers through the short curls at the back of his head. It was billys first Christmas since Getting out and I was determined to make it his best.

“billy?” I whispered, not wanting to break the beauty of the moment. He hummed against my neck, breaking off from the song. “Want to put on some Christmas movies and decorate the tree?”

“S-sure.“ he broke away and smiled at me. “S-sounds like f-fun.” I went to grab the stack of VHS tapes from the bedroom while Billy pulled out the artificial tree along with the boxes of lights, tinsel, and ornaments. As I fiddled with the VHS player trying to get “White Christmas” to start, billy untangled lights.

“how’s it going?” I asked as I grabbed the branches for the tree.

“s-slow going. These are really t-tangled.“ I smiled before climbing the ladder to reach the top of the tree. I started attaching the branches. It didn’t take long so all I had to do was watch the movie and wait for billy to get a good portion done. “W-w-what did you do to them last year? Throw them in a b-box And forget them?” I shrugged before climbing down to help.

“probably if I’m being honest.” I managed to get a massive knot out and climbed back up to start putting them on the tree top. “If I’m being completely honest I didn’t expect you to get out this year. If I had known, id have tossed these and gotten brand new ones. This way we wouldn’t have to check each bulb. Which means…” I trailed off before hanging my head. Billy looked up at me with a smile that quickly fell. I had done a quarter of the tree which now had to be undone. “Shit.” Billy started to laugh as I started to take the lights off.

“it’s a-alright (Y/N). W-we can check each light once it’s on the tree.” I shook my head as I continued to take them off.

“no we can’t. Not when I weave them all the way through the branch.“ once I got them off and we had checked every light, billy watched me carefully as I put them back on. Finally plugging them into the wall, I took a step back and smiled at billy. “There. All done. Now we put on the tinsel.” As I started to put the silvery strings around the tree, billy rewound the tale and put on “holiday inn”.

“why do you p-put this stuff on?” I smiled as he started to copy what I was doing.

“to make the tree sparkle!” I threw some tinsel at the tree and billy laughed. “Other than that I have no idea.” At some point there was a tinsel fight that we spent half the movie cleaning up. By the time we got to the ornaments we had moved on to another movie that billy picked. Anytime that he spaced out and just stared at the screen or got really into decorating the tree made me smile uncontrollably and want to take a million and one pictures of his smile.

It was slow going putting the ornaments on the tree. Billy wanted to know the significance of each one before trying to find the perfect place for it. I slipped away when billy started the fourth movie. Reaching up to the shelf in my closet, I pulled down a red box. I carefully opened it and ran my fingers over the beautiful dress and careful paint job on the angels face.

“(Y/N)?” Billy called. I popped my head out of the bedroom door.

“in here!” I called back. I sat on the bed and carefully took the angel out of the box. Billy came in and sat next to me.

“w-whats that?” I smiled as I carefully put it in his hands.

“my moms angel.“ I brushed the hair out of the face. “I put it on the top of the tree every year.“ billy looked back at me. “would you put her there this year billy?” He nodded and carefully stood up. I followed him back to the tree and watched as he cradled the angel to his chest while climbing to the top. Once he had fixed her at the top and was sure she wouldn’t fall, he climbed back down and put his arm around me.

“it l-looks good.” He kissed my temple and I nodded. “th-thank you for this.” I smiled at him.

“youre welcome billy.” We cleaned up and settled in to watch the rest of the movies I owned. “Oh billy?“ he hummed before looking down at me on his chest. “Merry Christmas.”

[jungshookz]

cee cee i have an idea!!! what about Cool and Cultured bookshop owner! tae and dorky y/n walking past the store everyday and one day goes in and strikes a conversation about a fancy book like catcher in the rye and talks about the symbolism of rye in the book and tae's like :0 das wildly inaccurate but you're kinda cute so here's my number so we can talk more about rye and y/ns like :0

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; wowowow handsome & well-read bookkeeper!taehyung, fluff!!!! the kind of fluff that makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket sipping on a mug of hot chocolate on a nice autumn’s day when the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange, y/n’s kind of a dummy but in a very loveable kind of way, featuring namjoon the (sort of) wingman

➺ wordcount; 6.2k

➺ summary; the catcher in the rye? oh, sure - of course you know that book! it’s about catching loaves of bread, right?

➺ what to expect; “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

➺ note; our (first??) drabble of the month as voted by you guys! i finished writing this the day after it was decided that bookkeeper!tae was the winner because that’s how excited i was about him >:-) enjoy! 

                                        »»————-　➴　————-««

“and… open your eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air excitedly as namjoon takes his hands away from his eyes

he blinks owlishly before looking up and-

“you brought me to a bookstore!” he gasps, a smile immediately spreading over his features as he claps his hands together, “oh, this is great! usually, you bring me to those awful rock-climbing places, or that horribly violent paintball gun place, and even when you brought me to the movie theatre the tickets were for that gory r-rated horror movie-”

“okay, let’s not get carried away-” you hold a finger out to shut namjoon up before he can list out moRe reasons as to why you seem more like you hate him instead of love him, “the point is: this time, i brought you to a bookstore!” you smile proudly before crossing your arms

not to toot your own horn or anything but you did a pretty good job with this surprise

you even did tons of research to find the best bookstores in the city!!

which was difficult because namjoon’s been to like.,,. EVERY bookstore in the city

but not this one!

to be fair, it was a long forty-five minute car ride to get here so you understand why he’s never come out here himself

“…this isn’t like… a weird bookstore or anything, right?” namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before taking a step back and looking up at the name of the store again

the secret garden

oh!!!!

like the book!!!!

how clever :D

“what do you mean?” you frown, placing your hands on your hips before glancing back up at the name as well

the secret garden

hm

kind of a lame name for a bookstore

“like a…” namjoon trails off before clearing his throat, “you know, like a bookstore that’s actually a sex dungeon or something like that-”

“ew!” you immediately make a face before shaking your head quickly, “wha- why would you even say that?!”

“well, i don’t know!” namjoon holds his hands up in defence, “i’ve never been to this bookstore before-!”

“this is a regular ol’ bookstore, joon. i promise!” you clap your hands on his shoulders before giving him a squeeze, “just the way you like it! old, dusty, and full of nothing but boring books.”

namjoon beams

that’s exactly what he likes to hear

see, today is your seven year friendaversary with namjoon

you guys have known each other since middle school and noW the two of you are in your final year of university which is crazy

and so, for the past seven years, you’ve gone out on this day to celebrate your beautiful friendship because honestly you’ll take whatever excuse to go to a restaurant to try to get free dessert (“yeah, we’re celebrating our anniversary! so, i’ll take three orders of your chocolate lava cake-”)

you guys usually take turns where one year one of you will plan an entire day of fun activities for the other, and then the next year, the other person will do it because that seems like a relatively fair system

last year, namjoon took you to this cute pottery place and you ended up making these adorable matching friendship mugs

they’re both a little lopsided but that’s just part of their charm!!

namjoon painted his a beige-brown and you painted yours a BRIGHT purple and then you traded mugs (so that when he comes over to your apartment, he has his mug, and when you go over to his apartment, you have your mug!)

he also insisted that you guys carve your guys’ initials on the bottom of yours and draw a heart around it which you thought was a little much but you are… very fond of namjoon so you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to

admittedly, most of the things that you’ve planned during your years have been catered to your own personal desires so you’ve been a little unfair but namjoon’s always been too much of a sweetheart to say anything about it

and for the most part, he’s a pretty good sport even though it’s blatantly obvious that he’d rather chop a toe off than spend the afternoon doing your chosen activity

the last time it was your turn two years ago, you took him to a go-cart track and spent the entire two hours practically driving circles around him because he was driving like ten kilometres an hour

the only reason why he wasn’t driving like one is supposed to drive on a go-cart track (i.e. like a maniac) is because he was worried that if he went too fast he’d get a ticket or something

and kim namjoon does not get speeding tickets

not on the real road and most certainly not on a man-made road either!

for the record, he definitely didn’t appreciate you calling him a slowpoke and telling him to eat my dust, bitch! and he still brings it up from time to time whenever he wants to guilt you into doing something with him (“i’m not switching muffins with you. it’s not my fault you don’t like yours!” “…hey, remember that time you called me a slowpoke and told me to-”  “take the muffin.”)

anyways

he’s glad that this is just a normal bookstore and that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not one of your activities is going to end in him losing a limb for the first time

what a wonderful way to end the day!!

actually, you guys still have to grab dinner after this where you’ll try to squeeze as many free desserts out of the restaurant as possible as per usual so this is a wonderful way to almost end the day

the little bell hanging above the door chimes as the two of you step in and almost immediately you’re greeted with the warm smell of what you’re pretty sure is hot chocolate??

“i love this place already.” namjoon breathes out, his jaw dropping in awe, “i wanna live here!”

“okay, keep it in your pants-” the door starts to shut and you nudge namjoon forward to keep from getting your butt nipped by the door

you don’t even get a chance to say anything else before namjoon suddenly darts off

so much for keeping it in his pants

you pause when you get a good look at the place

huh

for some reason you feel like a lot of instagram pictures have been taken here

it’s obviously an antique place but it’s like one of those trendy antique places

a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the (fake) candles casting a golden glow over the entire store

there’s a spiral staircase that curls up to the second floor

the walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves stacked with, duh, books, but even for what you thought would just be a dusty old bookstore… it’s pretty nice in here!

there’s even an archway in the centre of the place that leads to what looks like a pretty cozy reading space for customers which is a nice touch

and there are people sipping on mugs of hot chocolate too!!!

you can’t help but wonder if you need to be reading a book in order to get a mug of cocoa

you like the hot chocolate part but you’re not as excited about the reading part

“y/n, come on!” you look over to see namjoon - who already has three books cradled in his arms - waving you over enthusiastically, “check it out! it’s a vintage boxed set of the chronicle of narnia series! and they’re leatherbound-“ he practically moans before nudging you towards it, “help me take it out?”

“narnia?” you snort, tilting your head so you can look at the titles pressed into the spine of the book, “isn’t narnia, like… for kids?”

the last time you read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe was when you had to read it for a book report in like the fourth grade

you glance over your shoulder to look at namjoon who now has an unimpressed frown on his face

“what??”

“…you insult me.” he sniffles, “just help!”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to pull the thick set out of the shelf and-

“hello!”

“-!”

the sudden sound of a stranger’s voice nearly makes you drop the set but you manage to prop the edge of the box back up onto the shelf before it falls and breaks all the bones in your foot

you turn to look at whoever-

oh my

hello indeed

“welcome to the secret garden.” he smiles kindly, tilting his head at you, “did you need any help with that, miss?”

oh good god

his voice makes you feel like you’re wading through a river of warm caramel

and you’d happily let yourself drown in that river

two seconds go by where you don’t respond at all and instead you continue staring at mr. caramel with very obvious hubba-hubba eyes

“i think we’re good, thank you!” namjoon clears his throat, elbowing your back gently before offering a smile of his own

“oh, alright! well, my name’s taehyung,” taehyung reaches up to adjust his glasses, “please let me know if you need assistance of any kind - i’ll just be up at the front. if you’re just here to relax and read, i’d be happy to whip up two mugs of hot chocolate for the two of you!”

“awesome! thank you.” namjoon nods all while you continue smiling at taehyung dazedly

he waits until taehyung disappears before turning back and looking at you

“…what’s wrong with you?”

“i’m good, thank you…” you whisper your very delayed response and namjoon moves his head so that he’s blocking your view when you lean back a little to try to look at taehyung sitting behind the front counter, “holy moly. i’d let him explore my secret garden-”

“oh, now look who can’t keep it in their pants-“

“hey, you should look at this as a good thing!” you grunt as you adjust the hefty box in your arms, “now i’ll willingly drive you back here… whenever you want.”

namjoon’s eyes immediately light up

                                         »»————-　➴　————-««

you and namjoon end up returning to the bookstore about two weeks later

last time, namjoon wanted to stay longer (and so did you, honestly) buT you were pretty close to losing your dinner reservations and you weren’t about to give up your free chocolate lava cake just to stare at the cute bookkeeper from afar like a creep

so you had to leave!

namjoon ended up leaving with the boxed set and a couple other books so suffice to say, he was pretty happy

and when you suggested visiting the bookstore again this week… well, namjoon had to jump on that opportunity, didn’t he??

you?? offering to take him to a bookstore?? again??

you’re obviously only using him as an excuse to go into the bookstore so you can spend hours watching taehyung like a weirdo but he’ll take it

namjoon hums happily as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate before licking a little bit of whipped cream off his top lip

he wonders if taehyung would be willing to share the recipe to it because this is honestly the best hot chocolate he’s ever had

namjoon looks up from his book when he hears you let out a sigh for the tenth time in the last two minutes

oh god

look at you!

“oh… and he’s good with kids, too?” you sigh blissfully as you prop your elbow up on the arm of the sofa chair before leaning your cheek against your fist

you watch fondly as taehyung gets down on one knee, holding two fists out for a little girl

she taps his right hand shyly before quickly wrapping her arms back around her mom’s leg, peeking at him from behind it shyly 

taehyung flips his wrist around and uncurls his fingers to reveal a single caramel, his face lighting up briefly as she takes it from his open palm into her little hand 

“i don’t know why you can’t just go up and talk to him-” namjoon snorts at how lovestruck you look before peering around the corner of the archway to look at taehyung too, “it’s not a big deal. he’s really nice!”

“i can’t just go up and talk to him. are you kidding me?” you frown, shaking your head, “what am i supposed to say??”

“tell him you need help finding a book!” namjoon states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world (because it is) before slapping the book on his lap shut, “just out of curiosity - what book would you ask him to help you find?”

you lean back against the sofa chair before twisting your lips in thought

hm

book?

what book…

what was the last book you read…?

ooh!

“esio trot!” you perk up, namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion because he has no idea what just came out of your mouth-

“esio- oh my god, esio trot as in the roald dahl children’s novel??” namjoon frowns, “no! you can’t go up to taehyung and ask him to help you find esio friggin’ trot-”

“okay, you don’t see me making fun of you for buying what you bought last week, mr. chronicles of narnia-”

“you did make fun of me!” namjoon gawks, “in fact, you’re still making fun of me for it-” he waves his hand to cease the conversation, “listen to me. from the very few times that i’ve spoken to taehyung, it’s clear that he’s… cultured, you know?”

“cultured… like yogurt.” you joke, slapping your own knee gently, “get it?? because yogurt is cultured? cultured yogurt??”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes

see?

this is exactly what he’s talking about

“…yes, y/n. i get it. anyways, as i was saying- taehyung is just very…” namjoon kisses his teeth as he tries to think of how to phrase his words, “…well-read… intelligent… scholarly… refined…”

you tilt your head in curiosity as namjoon continues listing out a bunch of snooty sounding adjectives

wait a minute

“are you-” you scoff, straightening up in your seat, “are you calling me dumb??”

hey!!

you’re not dumb!!!

it’s not like books are super complicated to figure out or anything

all you have to do is read what’s inside of it and you certainly know how to read!!!

and sure, sometimes you still don’t know if receive is spelt receive or recieve or if business is spelt buisness or biusness, but that doesn’t mean that you’re dumb!!

“no, no, i’m not calling you dumb!” namjoon shakes his head quickly, “i’m just saying that if you had a choice, you would choose a movie over a book-”

“well, yeah - obviously i would choose a movie over a book.” you snort, “why would i waste eight hours reading tiny little words on stiff white pages when i could be watching a movie that compresses the entire story in a convenient one hour and a half??”

“i’m your friend, and i don’t want to watch you make a fool of yourself!” namjoon argues, “because if you do, then you’ll be too embarrassed to ever come back here again, which means that i’ll never be able to come back here again-”

“what’s stopping you from coming here by yourself?”

“because every time i tell you that i’m going to the bookstore, you’re going to ask me a bunch of taehyung related questions when i get back-”

okay

that’s a fair point

that sounds like something you would do for sure

“alright, fine!” you huff before crossing your arms, “what book do you suggest i go up there and ask him to help me find?”

namjoon twists his lips in thought

hm…

“catch her in the eye!” you chirp, folding your hands behind you book as you smile brightly at taehyung

namjoon feels his own face flush at how confidently you just said that and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaMING

he told you to ask taehyung to help you find the catcher in the rye

NOT CATCH HER IN THE EYE

“the catcher in the rye?” taehyung nods, “sure! of course i can help you find the catcher in the rye.” he returns a smile as he steps out from behind the counter, “follow me, please!”

you shoot namjoon a big thumbs up and a faT grin as you pass by the entrance of the archway and he gives you a weak one in return before turning back and slumping against the couch

oh boy

…he’s never going to come back to this beautiful bookstore, is he?

“you were here about two weeks ago, weren’t you?” taehyung asks as he looks over his shoulder, the two of you trotting up the spiral staircase, “with your… boyfriend, right? you guys bought the boxed narnia set.”

“hm? oh!” you let out a little laugh, “yes, that was us, but joon- namjoon’s just my friend. um, that day was actually our seven-year friendaversary and he’s a real dork for books so i thought it’d be nice to bring him here-”

it’s in that moment that you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice in your head reminding you that you’re supposed to act like yoU like reading too

“i mean-” you clear your throat, “i, too, really like books, so i- you know, it was a mutually pleasant experience for the both of us t-to be here-” you chuckle nervously

hopefully you were able to save your own ass there

that was a close call!!

you trail behind taehyung as the two of you weave in and out of the bookshelves

you didn’t get a chance to come up to the second floor last week

but it’s surprisingly nice up here!!  

there’s a lone sofa chair in the corner with a little coffee table sitting next to it

very nice for customers who prefer to read alone

“ah, well, that’s very thoughtful of you!” taehyung nods before suddenly pausing, “i’m so sorry-” he spins around and you nearly bump into his chest but you manage to stop yourself just in time, “i just realised i never got your name.”

“y/n. i’m- i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out quickly for him to shake

you feel a little zap! travel from your fingertips to the rest of your body as soon as taehyung takes your hand in his

he gives you a gentle shake before squeezing your hand lightly and then letting go, “well, it’s very nice to meet you, y/n. now, give me a second to find the catcher in the rye for you…”

taehyung turns to thumb through the books on the shelf and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as how pretty he looks from the side

wowie

you can’t help but take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you continue to admire taehyung’s features from the soft swoosh of his hair to the rosy pink of his lips

how can one man be so pretty?

“ah- here we are!” taehyung pulls a book out of the shelf and you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, “the catcher in the rye… a novel by j.d. salinger.” he hands it to you and you take it before blinking down at the cover

…the catcher in the rye?

what happened to catch her in the eye???

“it’s a great book.” taehyung hums, “have you read it before?”

“oh, i… i have!” you scoff, making a face, “duh, of course i have. i mean, it’s… you know, it’s such a… um, a powerful novel…” you clear your throat before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “i mean, the last time i read it was actually in… high school… so… you know, i’ve forgotten most of the details but i figured it’d be nice to get a refresher, you know?”

(you never read this in high school.)

((you just made namjoon summarise the entire book to you in the form of a poorly drawn stickman comic and even then you still didn’t fully understand the story.))

“absolutely! there’s nothing wrong with revisiting old friend from the past,” taehyung chuckles lightly, “in fact, i was reading animal farm the other day- what kind of literature do you typically read?”

you press your lips together tightly

oh god

namjoon didn’t prepare you for additional questions  

literature??

quick!

what kind of literature do you typically read??

…

tell him you read all kinds of literature!

that sounds like a legitimate answer, right?

“i... read… all-”

you’re cut off by the sound of a bell chiming from below and you let out a breath of relief when taehyung scurries past you to peer over the balcony

“i’ll be right there!” he holds a finger up at the customer waiting by the front counter before spinning around to face you again, “was there anything else you needed, y/n?”

“wha- i-” you stammer, unable to come up with a non-creepy reason to keep him up here with you, “no! no, this was-” you give the front cover a hearty slap, “this was all i needed-”

“perfect!” taehyung claps his hands together, “well, let me know. you know where i am!”  

he disappears down the staircase before you even get a chance to thank him

the smell of his cologne lingers in the air as you make your way down the staircase and you can’t help but beat yourself up over how your interaction with taehyung went

it wasn’t a bad interaction or anything

in fact, you think you did a pretty good job at acting like a bookworm!!

it’s just that…

you don’t think it was a particularly memorable interaction for taehyung

that was just a typical customer interaction for him

you were supposed to charm him!!!

impress him!!

sweep him off his feet!!!

tickle his brain!!

“hey, buddy…” namjoon coos as you plop back down on the sofa chair, “how… did it go?”

he’s afraid to hear your answer because it certainly looks like it didn’t go super well

damnit

he knows this moment is about you but now he’s thinking about how he’ll probably never be able to taste this delicious hot chocolate ever again

“got the book.” you grumble, tossing it onto the coffee table before shaking your head, “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

“yeah, i… uh, i heard you.” namjoon nods understandingly, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the couch, “i don’t think he heard you say that, though! i mean, he knew what you were looking for right away.”

namjoon knows you well enough to see that you’re currently spiralling down a self-pity hole right now

oh boy

“hey, you know what’ll make you feel better?” he leans forward to give your knee a comforting squeeze

“what?”

“how about i buy this for you so you can read it and fully impress taehyung next time with your newfound knowledge-“ namjoon points to the book you’ve abandoned on the table, “and then we can go for chocolate lava cake!”

your eyes widen slightly

“free chocolate lava cake?”

“no, not free-“ namjoon snorts, getting up from the couch before reaching back to pick up his bag, “i mean, i’ll pay for it. my treat! so, yeah. i guess it’s kinda free for you.”

“that sounds nice!” your frown is almost instantaneously replaced by a grin, “if i get more free things from you just for being sad, i’m going to be sad more often-”

“what?? no! do not pretend to be sad just to get me to pay for things-”

taehyung glances over from the front counter when he hears a twinkly laugh and he can’t help but smile lightly at the sight of you giggling away in the sofa chair

your nose scrunches slightly as you let out a little snort and he presses his lips together to keep himself from beaming too wide

y/n, huh? cute.

                                          »»————-　➴　————-««

(taehyung can’t stop thinking about you and your absurdly cute face.)

                                         »»————-　➴　————-««

it’s another two weeks later that you come back to the secret garden - but this time, you come alone.

and to be honest, you… don’t know if this was a good idea or not

because joon was with you for the last two times and you were definitely using him as a security blanket so now you feel like you’re about to dive into the deep end of the pool without any floaties

you were going to ask if he wanted to come with you but you felt like this was something that you had to do alone

you swallow thickly as you tuck your car keys into your pocket

namjoon can’t be your bookworm wingman forever, right?

the store is almost suspiciously quiet as you step in, the little bell ringing above your head as per usual

your classes ended a little later today which is why you weren’t able to come in the afternoon

pluS you had to find a way to get namjoon to go home without you without raising any eyebrows so that sucked up a little more of your time

you were going to tell him that you were going to stay on campus to study at the library but even you couldn’t believe that

so you told him that you had a group project to work on which was why you couldn’t have dinner with him tonight!

you jump in surprise when the door suddenly slams shut behind you from the breeze

it’s a little chillier now that it’s november but it’s nice that you get to wear cozy cardigans and snuggly sweaters now

“i’ll be right there!”

you hear taehyung’s voice ring out from the second floor and you swallow your nerves as you stand up a little straighter

fake it till you make it, right?

i love books

i love books so much

i love books so much that i would fuck a book if i could!

...okay, maybe not that one.

you glance around the store - there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here

which makes sense because the sign says that the store closes at 7pm on weekdays and it’s…

6:50

wow

so you’RE the asshole who comes into the place ten minutes before closing time

good one!

“so sorry for the wait, i was just-” taehyung pauses on the steps, his face immediately lighting up when he sees you, “oh, y/n!”

“hi!” you chirp before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “sorry i came ten minutes before you’re supposed to close… i wanted to come earlier, but i had a thing…”

“oh, don’t even worry about it!” taehyung snorts, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder, “i was just doing some dusting…”

you feel your mouth go drY as soon as you notice what he’s wearing

he’s wearing a henley tee (except all the buttons are undone and aLso he has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows), dark wash jeans, and a pair of tattered black converse sneakers

it’s just the casualness of it all that makes it so sexy

“so, what can i help you with tonight?” taehyung tosses the rag onto the counter before pushing his glasses back down from the top of his head

he adjusts them slightly before blinking at you and you find it awfully cute that his doe eyes now look a little bigger through the thick lenses

what can he help you with tonight?

…yeah, what can he help you with tonight?

the downside of not telling namjoon about your solo mission is the fact that namjoon’s usually the one who plans every little detail out for you

and you just came here on a whim

you don’t have a plan

you don’t have a plan at all!

your plan was to just come to the bookstore to see taehyung because you wanted to see taehyung

“i…”

“oh, by the way-” taehyung perks up suddenly, “how was your little trip down memory lane with the catcher in the rye?”

the catcher in the rye?

the catcher in the rye!!!

ah! yes!!

that’s definitely something to talk about!

…wait a second

you-

you didn’t read the book

oh god

you had two weeks to read the book and you didn’t read the book

almost immediately you feel your anxiety sPike back up and you can’t help but scold yourself for not bringing namjoon along with you

if namjoon was here, you’d just get him to say all the main points and you’d stand right next to him throwing in the occasional ‘yes, very good point!’ and ‘of course, i completely agree’ every now and then!

“the catcher in the rye!” you blurt out, suddenly aware that you haven’t spoken in like ten seconds, “i- yes! the book was- it was great. i thoroughly enjoyed it. i would definitely read it again!”

“hey, that’s great!” taehyung laughs lightly, “you know- i mean, i have to ask because i always ask this question to people who’ve read it- what do you think the main theme of it is?” taehyung hums, “because i’ve always thought it focused a lot on alienation, you know? i mean, a loss of innocence is obviously another theme, what, with holden wanting to be sheltered from the harshness of adult life- i really think it can actually be seen as some kind of social commentary… like a critique of the superficiality in society-”

“of course, i completely agree!” you nod furiously, “those are very good points-”

“i’m sorry, i’m probably sucking up all the oxygen in the room-” taehyung smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “so what do you think?”

if there was ever a moment for a black hole to appear in the floor and swallow you whole… you’d want for it to happen right now.

actually, you’d want it for it to happen whilst you were driving to the bookstore so that you wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to say hi to taehyung

“i think… well, i… first of all, i agree completely with everything that you just said about aliens and… you know, a loss of innocence and how hard adult life is…” you stumble over your words, your face beginning to flush from how idiotic you probably sound, “i just… i have to talk about my favourite part in the book! you know, the part where holden- holden, that’s the name that you just mentioned- he… he does such a great job at catching those loaves of bread. i thought that part was hilarious.”

you clear your throat at the end of your mini-review

taehyung’s eyes flicker slightly and for a second you think you’re in danger of being called out for obviously noT having read the book but…

he nods slowly and brings his hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, “i mean… yeah. i completely agree! that part always gets me! why don’t you go on? i’m interested in hearing more of your thoughts.”  

oh

oh!

hey, would you look at that??

phEW

maybe you’re better at improvising than you thought you were

now knowing that you’re on the right track gives you a booST of confidence and you give yourself a mental pat on the back

you can’t wait to tell namjoon about this

he’s going to be so proud of you!!

you grin before nodding enthusiastically, “of course! i have a lot of thoughts to share on the book. i mean, i personally think it was an interesting choice on the author’s part to choose rye as the main ingredient, because he had… so many other options that he could’ve gone with! and also - did he go with light rye or dark rye?? because throughout the entire novel, he never actually specifies what kind of rye bread he’s referring to-”

taehyung leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling politely as he continues to listen to your rye bread rant

it’s obvious that you definitely didn’t read the book but he was genuinely curious as to what you would be able to pull out of your ass which was why he asked you to go on

he doesn’t think anyone’s ever gone into a full-blown ramble about how the catcher in the rye is actually a narrative on the benefits on rye bread for lil ol’ him before

but, for the record… 

it’s really cute how much effort you’re putting into your analysis to try to impress him

“i’m sorry, i need to- i need to interrupt you-” taehyung giggles, cutting you off right as you’re about to dive into a discussion about the number of loaves holden caught in the novel, “as much as i would love to hear more… everything that’s coming out of your mouth is wildly inaccurate, y/n.”

what

...

oh my god.

“wh-” your throat goes dry and you choke a little, “what?”

“be honest- did you read the book?” taehyung asks flat-out and you feel your cheeks burning up again

uh-oh

“i…”

okay

forget it

you can’t do this anymore!

it’s too stressful!!!!

“…no.” you press your lips together before shooting taehyung a sheepish grin, “there’s no catching loaves of bread in the novel, is there?”

“not even one loaf.”

“oh, god-” you groan quietly, reaching up to cover your hot face with your hands at the realisation that you just very confidently ranted about the importance of rye bread in this novel for the past five minutes, “not even one?!”

mortifying!

absolutely mortifying!!!!

well

it’s time to tell namjoon to find a new favourite bookstore because you are nevER bringing him back here agai-

“hey, it’s totally fine!” taehyung laughs lightly, stepping closer to you so that he can pry your hands away from your flushed face, “i actually think it’s really impressive how long you can go talking about bread-”

“you let me- you knew that i hadn’t read the book yet you let me continue talking about bread-?!” you gawk, taehyung now bursting into a full-blown chortle as he throws his head back, “how could you??”

“i couldn’t help it!!” taehyung wheezes, reaching up to flick a stray tear away, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, really, i am-”

even when he’s laughing at you, your stomach can’t help but feel fluttery

“you’re lucky you’re pretty-” you snort, shaking your head gently, “otherwise i would be way more mad at you…”

taehyung’s laughs dwindle down into light chuckles and you swallow thickly when he takes a small step closer

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he retorts playfully, reaching over to move a strand of hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger, “otherwise i wouldn’t have let you talk my ear off about bread for five whole minutes…”

...he thinks you’re pretty?

“oh yeah?” you challenge, reaching over to jab your finger into his chest

taehyung reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist before offering you a particularly boyish smirk, “mm, yeah.”

you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second and you know it’s way too soon but you really want him to just lean down and kiss you…

“hey, do you like dessert?” taehyung pulls away suddenly before turning to make his way behind the counter

“de- dessert?” you ask dumbly, still a little dazed from... that

what was that?!

“mhm!” tae leans down slightly and flips a couple of switches underneath the counter, the chandelier light shutting off first before the other little lights begin to switch off as well, “there’s a little diner about a block away that makes really good strawberry cheesecakes.”

“i love dessert!” you nod, “and strawberry cheesecake sounds really yummy.”

“good! in that case, would you be interested in sharing a slice of cheesecake with me and perhaps delving deeper into your rye-based analysis?” taehyung teases as he grabs his coat off the back of his chair, his keys jingling in his hands

you snort lightly

“i would love to share a slice of cheesecake with you but i refuse to embarrass myself further, so we’re going to have to find something else to talk about-”

taehyung holds the door open for you and you immediately shiver as you step out, the chilly air a stark contrast from the warmth of tae’s cozy store

you jolt in surprise when taehyung reaches down and slips his fingers in between yours (which he later explains he only did because his hand was cold and definitely noT because he just really really wanted to hold your hand) before beginning to tug you along next to him

“well, we can talk about the fact that you thought the name of the book was catch her in the eye-”

“i knew you heard me! i knew it!!”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? 

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬1

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death [other warning to be added throughout series]

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: So i just worked my ass off and retail is always crummy this time of year so I’m gonna escape with some sweet Arvin Russell writing. 

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The spring air was warm as the breeze swept over the low fence and fluttered the tails of shirts hung across the line. You grabbed two pegs and a swathe of damp fabric and stretched it over the cord, pinning it in place before moving along. Your old machine had taken much of the day to wrangle and had even received a kick. It was decades old, an heirloom inherited with the old country house and much more clunky than the modern machines. Not many in the county had anything more than the old wringing machines.

Roy would be home soon. Your husband hated to hear about how the wringer jammed so easily and the fear that your fingers might again be bruised by the mechanism. Even so, you were certain it wouldn't last for much longer. It's rattles foretold its imminent fate. You'd be back to a bucket and board soon enough.

As you hung the last piece, Roy's oil stained overalls, you heard the putter of the truck. You picked up the woven basket and headed for the gate along the front of the house. You waved as he pulled up, tires loudly mulching the dirt, and you stopped short as he came to a jagged halt. He wasn't alone and you were stillwearing your grimy and wet apron.

Roy pushed his door open so roughly it creaked. He stepped out and gave an exaggerated stretch as he glanced across the roof of the truck and slammed the door.

"Don't forget your bag, boy," he growled at the other man as he felt around the chest pocket of his overall for his smokes. "Looks like you're too late for laundry day."

"Roy?" You unclasped the gate and opened it as Roy stomped across the gravel and lit up a smoke, "How was your day?" 

You peeked over at the other man who climbed out of the truck. He wore similar overall, though they were unbuttoned over a greasy white shirt, and he was shorter and thinner than your husband. He reached back into the truck and grabbed a long military style duffel before he swung the door shut. 

Your husband grumbled and blew out a mouthful of smoke.

"We have a guest?" You asked as you stayed by the gate.

"Arvin Russell," Roy flicked the ash away, "You remember I was talkin' 'bout renting out the attic."

"Um, yes," you blinked as the other man, Arvin, neared meekly. Roy had mentioned the idea once when he noticed the way his truck had started rumbling.  "It'll need a good dusting."

"So you better get on that." Roy coughed. "What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf," you answered and turned back to smile at the other man as he bowed his head and passed through the gate.

"Hello, missus," he said kindly, "Nice to meet ya. I work with your husband, says you're a fine cook."

"The one thing she can do," Roy muttered as he ambled up the steps of the porch and dropped onto the bench sat by the window. "You go grab us some bottles."

You closed the gate behind Arvin but he waited for you to precede him before going any further. He was surprisingly polite for any man who worked at the shop. 

"Yes, Roy," you hid your disappointment. Those nights when Roy started drinking before dinner rarely ended well.

"Can I just have some water?" Arvin asked as he followed you onto the porch, "Please. I didn't get to my lunch today so I'm not really feeling like drinking."

"Of course," you said, "If you're hungry, I got a box of crackers and some cheese I can bring out."

"Thank you but I'd hate to spoil dinner." Arvin sat on the end of the bench and kept his bag between his feet as Roy threw away his cigarette. "Thank you both for having me."

You nodded and quickly skirted inside. You were a bit confounded by Roy's sudden burst of generosity. He rarely did anything for anyone else. To think he'd offer a room to a coworker was unlike him.

You went to the old fridge, marked with dings and dents, and wiggled the handle until it opened. You remember the day you Pa had broken the handle, he'd always promised to fix it but had only managed to make it worse. You missed him. It was easy to miss him in this old place. His wedding present to you and Roy. It was too tragic he hadn't lived long enough to see you enjoy it.

You grabbed a brown bottle then filled a tall glass from the tap. You went back to the door and opened it with your elbow. You handed Roy his beer as Arvin stood to accept his glass of water.

"Thank you," he chimed but your husband only popped the cap of his beer with his teeth and glared out at the yard.

"Well dinner is in the oven still. I'll just be finishing that before I get started in the attic." You told Roy but he only shrugged and gulped down the beer. "Let me know if you boys need anything." 

"Peace and quiet," Roy snarled. "S'all I need right now."

Arvin gave a sympathetic look and traced his thumb along the side of the glass. You hid your discomfort and retreated inside. That was just Roy. He was always in a mood after work. An hour or two and he would mellow out. The beer would surely help.

🚬

When you finished supper, you called the men in to eat. Roy started his second beer as Arvin remained quiet and awkward at the table. You didn’t say much as you pondered the work still left to be done. You had to tidy the attic before the night ended and collect the laundry from the line. You would also have to clear the table and clean up the mess of your cooking.

You stood before the men finished. You scraped your untouched scraps into the dish of leftovers and placed the glass lid on it. You scoured the loaf pan as you listened to the clink of cutlery on plates and set the pots on the drying rack. You returned to the men to gather their empty dishes and Arvin thank you as Roy belched and stood with a satisfied but gruff rumble.

Arvin watched you as you tried to ignore the pity in his face. You knew your husband wasn’t the most loving or vocal, but he was yours and he worked hard. You turned away and went back to the kitchen. You finished washing the last of the glassware and dried it before stacking it in the cupboards.

As you passed through the dining room, Arvin was gone and you could hear the buzz of the radio from the front room. Roy always liked to listen to the game after he ate. Sometimes you sat with him and crocheted or read but not often.

You tiptoed upstairs and found the footstool hidden in the bottom of the linen closet. You climbed onto the step and reached up to unhook the cord of the attic door. It dangled down and you pulled it carefully as you backed off the stool and kicked it away. The steps unfolded and you barely stepped out of the way of their descent as the heavy wood thumped against the carpet.

It had been a while since you ventured up to the third floor. There was only dust and forgotten memories up there. You slowly made your way up and sneezed as you reached the top. A wall of boxes blocked the window along the front of the house and shrouded furniture sat beneath grimy sheets.

You started with the boxes. You took one and peeked under the flaps. Some old oil lamps hoarded by your father from his own parents. You awkwardly made your way back down to the second floor and placed the box at the bottom. When you had them all down, you’d take them into your father’s old room to store. Perhaps you should sort through them at last and get rid of the unneeded artifacts.

You were six boxes deep when you were startled by a shadow in the open hatch. You exclaimed and nearly dropped your armful as Arvin poked his head through and peered over at you.

“Arvin,” you gasped. “My apologies, this place is a mess.”

“Not so bad,” he climbed up and stood, “You need some help?”

“Don’t be silly, I can manage--”

“You’re right. It’s a mess,” he insisted, “A lot for just one person.”

You stared at him and gave a small smile. He was funny. He neared you and reached out for the box in your arms.

“How about this, I’ll stay on the ladder and you bring the boxes to me and I’ll take ‘em down.” He took the box gently from you, “It’ll be much quicker.”

You looked into his soft brown eyes and let him. He backed away and cautiously made his way down the ladder. You turned and grabbed another box and he reappeared through the hatch. You handed him the box of figurines and he retreated once more. You carried on and soon, the boxes were stacked high on the lower floor.

“Alright,” Arvin climbed up and dusted off his hands, “Already lookin’ better.”

He neared the old sofa against the wall and pulled off the sheet. He coughed as the dust was kicked up and it soon turned into a chuck as he waved away the cloud.

“We can keep this here,” he draped the sheet over his arm and pulled the next from the tall lamp with the glass shade, “Move this into the corner,” he continued on and peeked under a sheet before unveiling the tall shelf, “If you don’t mind, of course?”

“Not at all. We should’ve sold all this years ago.” You teetered on your heels anxiously. Every piece reminded you of your father. “There’s a cot folded up over there,” you pointed behind a hidden end table, “But that wouldn’t be much better than the floor.”

“It’ll do,” he assured you and turned to sit on the sofa. He bounced as he hugged the sheets. “This isn’t too bad.”

“Well, there’s a bed down in my pa’s room. We could try to bring it up tomorrow. If you don’t mind offerin’ a little more help.” You wrung your hands. You were never very good with strangers and Roy’s friends often weren’t much nicer than him. You were tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I think I could do that,” he stood and wiggled his nose as a sneeze threatened. “You got a broom? Maybe a duster?”

“You’ve done enough, I can finish it--”

“Ma’am, I’m a guest in your home. I might be paying for the room but it doesn’t make you my maid,” he intoned, “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t think I’ve eaten so well since before my momma died.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry,” you uttered. “I--”

“Now, don’t be sorry,” he cooed, “Nothing to be sorry for. I assume you lost your daddy if his bed is free.” 

You nodded dumbly and blinked.

“Well, at least let me take these,” you reached for the sheets and he hesitated before he let you take them. You struggled to keep them balled up and hugged them against your hip as you turned back to the hatch. “I’ll bring you the broom.”

“Thank you,” he said behind you and you looked back at him as you took your first step down the ladder, “You let me know when you bring that washin’ in and I’ll help you fold.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to. Makes me feel a little better about stealin’ your attic,” he assured you.

You looked down and slowly descended. As your feet met the carpet, you sighed and looked around at the boxes. You couldn’t remember a time Roy had ever offered to help with anything. If it wasn’t to do with his truck, he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.

🚬

You were completely drained by the time you retired to your bedroom. You were still on edge, your exhaustion laced with anxiety as you unbuttoned your blouse. You sat on the side of the bed as you slowly undressed. It was still absurd to you that another person, barely more than a stranger, was living in your home. In your father’s house.

It changed your whole routine. You couldn’t help but go over it in your mind. That meant three plates, not two, for every meal, that meant the laundry basket would fill up quicker, than meant the shoes tracks in the front entrance would need to be mopped up more often. That mean you had to act like your marriage was truly happy.

You pulled on your night gown, the short sleeves tickled your upper arms as you dropped your clothes in the wicker basket on your chest of drawers. A framed photo of your parents’ wedding day sat beside it and on the shelf beside the door, was your own wedding portrait.

Three years wasn’t so long but it felt an eternity. You couldn’t quite recall when Roy had changed. When the beer had started to taint his kisses and his words. When all pretense fell away and only the man remained. The brutish country boy with the churlish demeanour.

Maybe the first day of your marriage. Maybe. You were so nervous on your wedding night that it angered him. You’d mend your dress one day, hopefully when you had a daughter of your own so you had something to promise her. 

Or maybe a week after the wedding, when you broke the vase gifted to you upon your nuptials and it shattered across the floor. Roy’s booming voice and his boulder-like fists.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, a month in when the world went black with his hand on your throat and you awoke alone on the kitchen floor.

Maybe a year when your finger was dislocated by a slammed door. Maybe the next year when you couldn’t sit for the pain in your hips. Maybe the one after when he’d grown impatient for a child only to find your sheets soaked in blood. 

Maybe it had always been there, from the first date, but you’d simply refused to accept it. Not you. Not Roy. You loved him and he loved you, didn’t he?

The door slammed and shook you from your sombre recollections. You looked up as Roy stumbled in. He snickered darkly as your eyes met his and his legs wobbled beneath him drunkenly.

You slid off the bed and turned to plant your elbows on the mattress. A prayer before bed, as your grandmother had taught you. Another sarcastic chuckle aimed in your direction as Roy’s stained white tee missed the basket.

“On your knees for me already,” he sat beside your elbow as he unbuckled his belt.

You couldn’t focus on your inner recitation. You could smell the alcohol on him, the stench of oil and his sweat. You clutched your hands together and cleared your throat.

“Why didn’t you call me?” You asked calmly.

He frowned and stood to shove his pants past his knees. He kicked the jeans away and fell heavily back to the bed.

“Call you?” He sneered.

“To let me know about our guest?” You wondered innocently. “I could’ve readied for him better.”

“Workin’,” he growled. “I don’t got time to be callin’ you with my head under an engine. Fuckin’ Christ.”

“There isn’t a bed in the attic.” You said.

“So. Arv’s small enough. I’ve seen him sleep on a stool.” Roy spat. 

You hid your chagrin behind your hands as you pressed them to your lips.

“Why’d you bring him?”

Roy’s nostrils flared and a fist formed atop his hairy thigh. “I gotta explain to you?” He snapped. “He paid me outright and he been sleepin’ at the motel since he started.”

“Mr. Dace has a room--”

“Mr. Dace lives twice as far as we do. I did the kid a favour. He saved my ass his first day.” Roy stomped his foot. “Woulda burned down the whole garage if he hadn’t caught that leak.”

“Kid? He that young?”

“Couple years younger than you, I s’pose, maybe less,” Roy rubbed his cheeks and shook his head, “What’s it matter to you?”

“Curious,” you said quietly and closed your eyes as you rested your chin on your knuckles.

Roy was quiet. He let out a long, thick breath and the bed jolted beneath your arms.

“You finished bleeding?” He asked gruffly. 

“I’m praying, Roy,” you insisted.

“How long’s it take you? I’m sure God’s heard it all before.”

“Don’t talk like that, R--”

You squeaked as he grabbed your wrist and wrenched your arms away. He rose and lifted you with him. Always a strong man, he moved you like a puppet to his will. He took your other wrist and pulled you against him.

“You know, I don’t even care if you’re bleeding.” He turned you and shoved you onto the bed. You cried out as you bounced so hard you bit your tongue.

“Roy, please, I’m tired,” you stared up at him fearfully as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. You could taste blood.

“You’re my wife. You do your duty.” He pushed his underwear down as his cock twitched. “You got energy to wash all them clothes, you can lay on your back for your husband.”

“Roy--”

“Shut up!” He shouted. “We got company. I don’t need ya keepin’ him up with your whining.”

You closed your eyes as he fell onto you. He crushed you beneath him as he tugged your skirt up harshly. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and you braced yourself for his painful intrusion. Even so long into the marriage, you had never grown used to his touch.

He retracted his hand and began to touch himself. He stroked his cock as he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. Come on.” He moved his hand quicker and rubbed his soft tip against your folds. “Open up.” 

He forced his dick against your entrance and tried to push inside. He was still half-flaccid and struggled to get further than an inch. You balled your hands and sank your head into the mattress as he thrust. He fell out of you, softer than before.

You opened your eyes sat up on his knees and looked down at his limp dick. He gritted his teeth as you watched him.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he punched your stomach as hard as he could and you wheezed as you folded in on yourself. “Can’t even keep me hard.”

“Roy--” You hissed. “I’m s--”

“One more word and you’ll be real sorry.” He pushed himself from between your legs, making certain to pinch you as he did.

He stood and turned. You barely moved out of the way before he sprawled over his side of the mattress. You held your stomach, a painful pressure lodge there, and rolled to the edge of the bed. You reached over and pulled the chain on the lamp. 

As you laid back, Roy caught the back of your neck and kept you in a painful limbo.

“On the floor,” he jarred your neck as he tried to throw you off the bed. “Like the dog you are.”

You slid off the side and landed sharply on your knees. You stifled a shameful sob and lowered yourself down onto your side. You bent your knees and cushioned your head on one arm. You stared into the void beneath the bed as the frame groaned beneath Roy’s heavy body.

“Goddamn bitch,” he uttered groggily. “Fuckin’--”

His words turned to snores as he finally drowned in his bellyful of beer. You listened to his jagged, drunken breaths as you shivered on the cold wood. You closed your eyes and recalled the first night you’d slept on the floor. You’d been in much poorer shape and it had been the dead of winter.

At least, you didn’t have to sleep next to him.

[katsukikitten]

Part one, no real warnings yet. Enjoy!

Bakugou's personal phone rings from the pocket of his hero costume for the umpteenth causing his skin to pop. All the while Kirishima allows his ruby gaze to fall over the hot head, having a good guess about just who is blowing up his phone. Worry snatches at Kirishima's heart for a moment forcing the question from his lips, even if it meant regretting it. 

"Are you sure your mom is okay?" Bakugou freezes in his step, inclining his head to fix a garnet glare at his so called friend. He sucks in a breath to yell, body tense and in a fighting stance before his phone blares again.

"FUCK!" He shouts into the night with only Kirishima and the moon to hear. The trees swallow his frustration as he rips his phone from his pocket, answering it so harshly the LCD beneath the screen ruptures. 

"What?! What the fuck do you want you God Damn hag?! I'm WORKING! Saving LIVES!" It had been a long time since he had called his mother hag, long enough there was silence on the other line for a moment. 

Then much like her son she takes a deep breath and now Kirishima, the moon and the trees know why Mitsuki was calling at such a late hour. Kirishima sighs with relief nothing is so dire as life and death, although for Mitsuki it is. 

"IF YOU DON'T BRING THIS GHOST OF A GIRLFRIEND OF YOURS I SWEAR TO KAMISAMI THERE WILL BE NO MORE NUMBER ONE HERO WHEN IM THROUGH WITH YOU. IM GETTING OLD I NEED FUCKING GRANDKIDS. THINK OF YOUR SWEET OLD FATHER HE AIN'T GETTING ANY FUCKING YOUNGER!" 

"That's what this was about?! Ma for the last fucking time I don't-" 

"You don't what? One of those hoes you sleep with has to like even your rude ass. Bring a decent one home." And with that Bakugou is left with the sound of three tones and a ringing in his ear. He grips the bridge of his nose, having no earthly idea of how to get his mother off of his back, let alone find a woman. The phone rings in his hand again, the screen filled with dead pixels and rainbow lines causing him hot to be able to see. Somehow it registers his touch as he goes from memory to answer. 

"What you fucking hag?!" He screams into the receiver. 

"Wow. Rude." You reply with a bite, "Just calling to tell you boss that I'm clocking out, dickhead." 

"I-I thought you were my mom." 

"Oh and that makes it better?" What an ass! 

"Fuck you." He growls, looking at Kirishima's watch, "You're clocking out way too early." 

"No, fuck you. I requested to be off by this time MONTHS ago. You can ask Eijirou-san, you approved it so he made the schedule accordingly." You quip, twirling one of your knives in your hands, "Besides I've been working waaay too long today. Oh and I found that perp hours ago." 

"What the fuck?! Why didn't you tell me hours ago?" 

"I fucking tried, you ignored my call. This was my third attempt." You slam the knife through the paperwork on your desk wishing it were the hot head's thigh. You rise as your eyes glance over the clock. If you didn't hurry this stupid phone call up, you were going to be late. You needed to sneak in before midnight. 

"Still too early for you. Normally you want the OT." He bites, causing you to roll your eyes. 

Gods you hated this guy. 

"Yea, well tonight is different." You'd pay in the long run for leaving so soon but tonight was special. She asked you to be there the last time you saw her and you promised. 

You never break a fucking promise. 

"Some subordinate you are bitch face." He growls then an idea pops into his head. 

Subordinate. 

As in you reported to him, as in Bakugou Katsuki was your boss. And well you had to listen to your boss to some extent and he knew you needed money, you tell him day in and day out it's the only  reason you would even dream to work with him. 

Although he has no idea why you are so hard out for cash. 

So he sets the bait, offering you a deal you can't refuse. 

"Tomorrow is your planned day off right?" 

"Yea what fucking of it?!" 

"I've got a special mission for you-" 

"No." You interrupt, already feeling the exhaustion of your seventy hour work week stacking up. 

"You didn't even let me finish you ungrateful brat. It will be three times your pay for half a day's work. Cold hard cash." The other side of the line goes silent. Licking your lips you think over his offer, fuck, that would actually help get your head above water. 

The light at the end of the tunnel. 

If only you knew how dark this tunnel was going to be. 

"Fine. I'll take your stupid fucking offer." 

"Promise?" His voice sounds a bit different, a little bit of a tease to it, as if he knows something you don't. 

"What are we in kindergarten. Yea I promise, fucking headass." With that you hang up, rushing down the steps of the agency building and into the cold air. 

Your phone buzzes with a text 

BakaBoss: Meet me at the agency, 11am sharp.

You roll your eyes, turning your phone to silent as you watch the nightly set of nurses do their normal routine. Barely making it in time for the security guard and head nurse to make their way outside by the one way back door for a smoke. Both too lazy to walk around to the front of the hospital, sticking a thin splintering wood block between the jam and the door, giving you easy access to the stairwell. When they were far enough away you slip into the door, sure to place the wood where they left it before climbing the stairs two at a time, racing the clock at the top half of the 11th hour. The janitor would have already mopped her floor and the only nurse on floor six was currently on the ground level half way through the small tobacco stick, she wouldn't be sticking her head into room 609 anytime soon. 

You draw in a deep breath, collecting yourself and forcing back the tears as you picked the lock, a skill set that not only were you amazing at but the very same skill that landed you here. 

And by here you mean stupid ass hero work all thanks to some "reforming" program by Izuku Miydoria. Still it was better than having to break out of jail in order to make cash, her bills weren't going to pay themself. 

You stick a stolen credit card in between the door jab and the door, right at the locking mechanism, although you could break out of just about anywhere, this would be the faster method of escape. 

"Hey, sis, I made it!" You say softly but with excitement, watching as she keeps her back to you. Her eyes wide from a mixed cocktail of chemicals and trauma, she stares out into the sky, counting the stars. 

It would be one of those nights where she was too warped to tell you were there. With a sigh you sink onto her mattress. If you could even fucking call it that. It was more like a box spring with a fitted sheet over top of it, you were still figuring out how you could sneak a mattress in. 

"I got you something." You say crawling to sit next to her cross legged, she turns to you and it's like looking in a mirror. Except one of you is covered in visible scars and the other is not. Hers are more than skin deep. Seeing her dull gaze never gets any easier, she stares through you for a long time before she does as she always does. 

Lifting her hand gently to cup your cheek so her thumb can slide over your scar. 

"How'd you get this?" Her voice is barely hers and it grabs a fist full of your guts pulling them downward. Everytime she asks that question you see the shine of a blade, a swipe of a strong hand and vision filled with blood.

Yours, there's but never hers. You like to tell yourself that's what counts but maybe you had a hand in breaking her. 

You clear your throat, pulling a bag onto your lap. 

"Nevermind that." You gently guide her hand away from your cheek and to her lap. When she makes no motion for the gift bag you force a smile as icy guilt collects in your chest. 

"It's for our birthday silly! Can you believe we are 26 today?" You place the pillow on her lap and her hands slowly go to the plush material. 

For a moment she has returned, flashing you a smile as she pushing into the soft material before she flickers out again. Like a light with just enough current to wink in and out of existence. 

Time passes and the clock strikes midnight, white clad shoes stomp against the polished floor signaling it was time to leave. 

"I'll try to see you soon okay?" You lean over kissing her hairline before grabbing at the old, flat pillow. Shoving it into the gift bag as you silently bound the room. Pushing the door open slightly as you slip the stolen card into the back pocket of your black jeans.  With that you are down the hall and through the backdoor without raising any sort of alarm as usual. 

Suddenly your phone weighs heavy in your pocket as you think of what kind of stupid errand that asshole was going to put you on. The stolen card sings in your pocket, begging to be used. So you slip into a bar to give it a good use. 

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

A blaring alarm yanks you from the bed in a sweating panic. Knife instinctively slashing the air before you send the blade into yet another digital alarm clock. Falling back into the mattress for just a moment's peace.

That peace doesn't last long once you show up at the agency. If anything is sours as you see Bakugou leaning against the bright white brick and in civilian clothes no less. 

"What's this?" You pick at his black dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his banded forearms.  He's paired it with a pair of black jeans, one knee ripped. Oddly it looks good together. Not overly dressed nor too dressed down. His vermilion eyes glide over your figure in your black body con hero suit. He sucks his teeth, hating this next part. 

"Called clothes dumbass. Speaking of we need to get you something fitting."

"For what? What exactly is this 'mission'?" 

"I'll debrief you later. Right now we need to get you new clothes." You laugh in his face before your rich expression turns deadly 

"With what money?" 

"Calm down, it's my treat Princess." He says with satire, the name sits odd on his tongue and even more odd in your stomach. He snatches at your wrist, "Come on before the stores get crowded and we get noticed." 

You find yourself in a shop filled with dresses and fancy blouses. All of which you hate. Bakugou seems to hate them too, too guady for his taste. Still he shifts through the soft silks because he knows his mother will love it. 

"Oi, you can't find a single decent thing here? I thought women loved shopping." 

"Yea for shit we like asshole." You hiss to him, having only found a pair of dark blue jean's. 

"Heh." He scoffs, rolling his eyes until he finds the perfect top. It looks decent and it could be your style. The one thing he learned about being undercover was to not stray too far from what looked natural or from the truth. 

"Put this on. While I find a necklace." He shoves the silky top into your hands and you look at the price tag. Suddenly anxiety burns in the soles of your feet soaring up to close your throat. 

"Bakugou. This is too much." Katsuki stops to glance over his shoulder, this is the first time you've used his name since he hired you three years ago. He sees your hand gripping at your bicep and he watches the rare tell sign that you're nervous as you chew on one of the scars that creeps onto your lip. He comes up to you, closer than he ever has been before, your senses flood with spiced caramel. 

"Oi." His voice is smooth, almost soft as he touches a ringed index finger to your forearm. You fixate on the shining black ring and your old habits have you thinking of six different ways to get it off of his finger. The thought soothes you as much as his voice surprisingly does. 

"I said I'm buying, remember you brat?" The teasing returns back to his voice before it turns gruff, "Now go change to make sure I like it. I'll be back in a second." 

A woman unlocks a small dressing room for you and once inside you hold your breath. Counting as you remind yourself that you cannot and will not steal anything of value while your boss was here. 

If you were any other person you would tap this Prohero's account dry, really rack up that platinum card you know sat in his wallet and sell the clothes marked up for a profit later. 

But even as much as you hated Bakugou, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

Instead you slip into the the outfit adjusting yourself this way in that as the neckline says enough without saying too much. The jeans curving against your figure in such a way doing as good as a job as your hero suit. You keep your steel toed boots as you step into the small hall with the three mirrors. As you turn this way and that Bakugou appears behind you, almost earning a knife to his gut. He forces the silver blade away before pulling out a necklace from a bag he just bought.  The gold chain is dainty, going through the top of the garnet making it seen as if it were a suspended droplet of blood. 

It marches the eyes that roll over you as he takes a step back before his harsh mouth breathes out a word. 

"Fuck."

Instantly it kills your mood as your lip pulls back over sharp teeth.

"Tsk. It's not that bad, God how do you get any pussy." You grumble, smoothing down the black blouse. 

"No, dumbass. You look...you look perfect." He stares into your eyes through the mirror, his smile growing wider as they wander over your scars and finally land onto that minimalistic drop pendant necklace. 

Over something you've never been able to have, something you always had to swipe from an unsuspecting neck and then pawn. 

"Now. I'm going to tell you here, in this store of crowded people so you don't cause a scene." 

"What?!" Anger already begins to bubble in your blood. The blades that kiss your flesh start to scream for relief. 

"From now on you have to pretend to be my girlfriend. Paparazzi are starting to swarm outside of this fucking boutique and my mom follows this particular trash tabloid since they love to use me as click bait. You just have to make it through dinner tonight and if shit goes south I'll pay you even more." 

[peach-pops]

May i request a hc where the reader is a delinquent third year at Nekoma and Kuroo catches a glimpse of her panties as she climbs down the ladder to the roof 🥺👉👈

Thank you for the request! I made the reader a sexual delinquent so there are suggestive themes but this is still SFW! I added a bit extra cause I didn’t want Kuroo just to stare at her ass lmao.

Nekoma’s Delinquent HC

Kuroo may seem like the total bad boy type at first glance, but he really is such a goody two shoes

Just because he’s the attractive captain of a well-rounded volleyball team should not dismiss the fact that he is the top of his class and a full-on STEM nerd 

He has a pretty good reputation around Nekoma and he wants to keep it that way. 

UNTILLLLL you came around 

he was minding his own business after practice until he saw you sneaking into the equipment room in the gym 

Of course, Curious Kuroo follows you and peaks inside because who the hell is trying to sneak into the equipment room- fuck it’s you

Everyone at Nekoma knew you as the delinquent third year who was known to have a pretty bad reputation 

*Cue that Regina George scene from Mean Girls*

“ I heard when Y/N L/N was a first-year, she slept with any third year who would give her a pack of cigarettes!”  

“ Y/N gave ‘roadside assistance ;)’ to Kobayashi- Sensei and that’s why her grade in his class is so high!”

“ Her idea of tutoring guys is taking them up to the roof of the school to give them half-decent handjobs.” 

Kuroo was pretty sure that most of the rumors about you weren’t true and even if they were, your sex life was none of anyone’s business

Except for the rumor about you sleeping with a teacher because um hell red flags lock that teacher up!!! 

“ Can I help you?” Kuroo asked suddenly as you turned around to face him

Your skirt was purposely rolled up even higher to show off your bare legs and your white button-up that was rolled up to your elbows lazily had a few missing buttons at the top, revealing a bit of your chest

Kuroo concentrated on keeping his eyes above your waist but he couldn’t look you straight in the face without getting red so he focused attention towards the wall closest to you

“ I’m good, thank you though,” you said casually as you turned back around and looked through the equipment room as if you were looking for something important 

If you ever needed to study or have a smoke, you found yourself using the gym’s equipment room because it was usually fairly private and there was a window so you wouldn’t suffocate in your own smoke

Hardly anyone intimidated Kuroo. He’s a pretty big dude and people would be dumb to try and start shit with him but for some reason, he was so intimidated by you 

You were so fascinating to him, all these rumors and yet, you always managed to get right back up and keep doing you. You were also insanely attractive but Kuroo would never admit it out loud because he didn’t want to sound like a tool 

No matter how intimidated he was by you, he still needed to keep people out of the equipment room who weren’t allowed in there

“ I wasn’t really asking,” Kuroo said as he walked into the equipment room with his hands in his pockets,” what are you doing in here L/N-chan?”

He wasn’t sure what you were looking for, maybe something to steal and sell? Maybe you had hidden drugs in the equipment room and it was like your secret stash 

“ That sounded like a question to me,” You answered back as you bent down to look between a stack of boxes,” don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time Kuroo-san.” 

His breath hitched for a moment because he was so sure you didn’t even know who he was and from the silence that followed after, you were quick to notice his expression as you bent down to pick up the textbook you were searching for

“ Second year, Nakumura-Sensei’s physics class,” You reminded him as you swept some dust off the surface of your math textbook,” you sat a few seats ahead of me and you always blocked the chalkboard with that crazy hair of yours.” 

Kuroo didn’t need to be reminded, he remembered how you would usually stroll into class late and how during most of the period would consist of you either sleeping or on your phone

No matter how late you arrived, you always managed to smile towards Kuroo because you always noticed how he would stop listening to the teacher when you walked in 

“ I’m surprised you remember that, you were hardly ever conscious in class,” Kuroo laughed cautiously as you shrugged and walked over towards him

You stood next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, making his body tense,“ Oh trust me, it’s hard to remember a face like yours.”

Kuroo only gulped as you squeezed his shoulder and walked out of the equipment room, leaving him completely stunned

His mind was all over the place because were you flirting with him? Do you just do that with everyone? Why was he getting worked up over a shoulder touch?!?!

More importantly, all he was thinking was how he wanted to see you again, even if it meant that he would be putting his reputation on the line

The next couple of weeks consisted of Kuroo keeping an eye out for you in the hallway and every time you two did happen to meet, you always smiled back at him and it always boosted his mood

He looked forward to seeing you in the halls, even if it was just for a few seconds because it meant that he was slowly making an impression on you 

all Kuroo wanted to do was have the chance to talk to you for a bit and get to know because damn, he was really falling for you just by seeing you in the halls

He talked about you so much to the point where Kenma had to invest in a good pair of headphones so he could tune him out

Kuroo usually minded his business when it came to drama but now, he was quick to call out shitty behavior whenever he heard people talk badly about you in class 

“ Did you see what Y/N was wearing today? I swear she’s asking for it-”

“ If you want to keep all of your teeth intact, I suggest you both keep her name out of your mouth.” 

That shut people up REAL QUICK 

Scary Kuroo is hot anyway 

Kuroo always felt protective towards any girl; he didn’t have any sisters but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stand up for girls when it came down to it. 

He was sure you two would never really become friends since your interaction consisted of acknowledging each other in the hallway until he spotted you outside the gym after practice with a smile on your face

“ Finally, took you long enough to finish. Come on, I wanna show you something,” You said as you grabbed his hand and led him towards the back of the school

His brain was like holding hands??? With A Female??? That’s a first

In the back of Kuroo’s mind, all he could think about were the rumors. Was something going to happen between the two of you? He wouldn’t mind but he wasn’t exactly sure what you were proposing and if he was mentally prepared for it

He’s a virgin yall come on he’s a whole dork remember? 

He didn’t really start to freak out until you led him to the ladder that led to the roof because oh shit, all he could think about was the ‘half-decent handjob’ rumors

Kuroo was pretty freaked out to climb up on the roof-it wasn’t that he was scared of heights but what if they got in trouble??? 

Kuroo had two options; A) He could say no and just go home because he knew mentally and physically, he wasn’t ready for certain things to happen with the two of you if it got hot and heavy B) He could suck it up and climb the damn ladder because he’s been wanting an excuse to talk to you for weeks and now he finally has the chance

“ Ladies first,” Kuroo said as you gladly went ahead of him 

“ Okay scaredy-cat”

He started to climb up behind you but when he looked up to see how much farther he had left, he realized he could see up your skirt and his eyes were glued on your red lace panties  

Kuroo pulled his eyes away from you and wanted to bang his head against the metal ladder. Was this all part of your masterplan??? To seduce him??? Because oh shit it might be working

“ If you don’t mind, I can feel your eyes burning into my ass,” You said from above him as Kuroo stammered out an apology 

You smiled to yourself as you stepped up on the last railing and threw your legs over onto the roof 

Kuroo lifted himself up and peeked his head over the ladder. You tried to help him up but he shook you off and insisted he was fine

From his three years at being at Nekoma, he didn’t even know there was a greenhouse on top of the school ( high school musical 3 vibes) 

You walked past Kuroo and when he saw you sit next to the edge of the roof, he felt a bit more comfortable since who would give a handjob while sitting on the edge of a roof? 

He sat down beside you as you pulled out a cigarette and lit it with your lighter. You offered him a pack but Kuroo shook his head and watched you instead

“ L/N-chan, why’d you bring me up here?” Kuroo asked as you exhaled smoke

“ For the view, duh,” You said as you nodded your head off towards the horizon

Kuroo turned his attention to the skyline and you were right. The sunset was never something Kuroo particularly paid attention to since he usually distracted himself when walking home but with the cityscape off in the distance and the soft sounds of traffic, he could feel himself softening and relaxing more than before

“ You know you’re the only one who bothers to calls me L/N-chan,” You said after a moment as Kuroo turned his attention back to you,” why do you do that?” 

“ What else would I call you?” Kuroo asked as if there was any other option 

“ ‘Nekoma’s Delinquent’, ‘ Trashy Alleycat’, ‘ Whore-chan’, or the classic old ‘slut’,” You answered simply as Kuroo felt his chest tighten up,” those seem to be pretty popular nicknames for me.” 

He wasn’t even sure what to say and he felt guilty because of it. He had never heard people call you that ( he knew he would knock out any guy who talked badly about you)  but it wasn’t like he ever stood up for you for the rumors before

“ I would never call you that, those names are disgusting.”

“ Can you blame them? I’m sure you’ve heard rumors about my sexual escapades by now, I could tell from how nervous you were once you saw the ladder going up to the roof . And for the record, I didn’t bring you up here to give you a ‘half decent handjob’... Even if I did, I don’t think I would be that bad,” You said with a convincing smirk but Kuroo could knew you were hurt by the comments

“ Why did you bring me up here then? Don’t get me wrong, the view is great and all but even then, why me?” Kuroo asked as you put out your cigarette beside you

You weren’t sure why and that was the honest answer. Even though the two of you hardly ever interacted, you felt like an actual human being around him instead of a piece of meat. 

“ Well why did you agree?” You changed the subject as Kuroo found himself thinking of how much he wanted to reveal 

“ I think you’re misunderstood and I want to get to know you.”

“ Oh please, you just want something from me like the other guys.”

“ No- kinda- but not what you think. I mean, I want to hang out with you sure but nothing sexual. Sure, I think you’re really attractive but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to do anything. I just want to get to know you, I swear,” Kuroo said genuinely as he saw your face soften,” your turn. Why did you bring me up here?” 

You inhaled deeply, as you played with your hands. Maybe, just maybe you had a small crush on Kuroo but of course, you would never admit it outloud

“ You’re...normal. You seem like a decent guy and honestly, nice guys are hard to come by nowadays, ” You said softly as he watched your demeanor change,” but you know if we hang out, people will say stuff.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but smile at your request. He felt like he was back in grade school when kids would just ask each other to be friends and that was that.

“ Trust me, if we’re friends, they won’t ever say shit to our face and if they do, they’ll regret it.” 

You rolled your eyes at the boys threat but inhaled deeply,” Okay, that’s good enough for me.”

Lil Bonus: One day, Kuroo went to the bathroom during class and he heard the same two guys spreading some rumors about you and he was LIVID AS HELL

Deadass this boy didn’t even wait for an explanation, he just swung his fists into their faces so hard and one guy even lost a few teeth like 0.0

“ I fucking told you I would knock your teeth in didn’t I?” 

Ya he got detention for two weeks but he had no regrets 

Angry Kuroo is so hot my LORD

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (01)

word count; 6959

summary; after making a somewhat reckless decision in the heat of the moment, newt gives you some harsh truths, and some good advice.

notes; this first part isn’t all that exciting, admittedly, but these first few parts set a grounding for the rest, so you just have to rock with it.

warnings; reference to injury, building fire, reference to dementia.

Stepping into the main room, you glanced around, catching the eye of your friend and colleague, the blond who was waving at you from the tall counter. His foot was propped up on one of the taller stools, a plate of pancakes in front of him as he held a pen between his teeth, the newspaper out before him. 

Striding across the room towards him, the fireman you’d come to know as ‘Fry’ due to desperate love for cooking when he wasn’t on a call was grinning, flipping a couple more pancakes over the stove, and he reached for another plate, placing it in front of the Empty seat. Lifting his foot down, Newt left the seat available to you, and despite the chatter in the room, you could still hear his excited ‘hello’, even if it was spoken around the pen in his mouth, which promptly dropped, and he fumbled to catch it. 

“You’re chipper this morning?”

“I got here before Brenda, which means I get the puzzles in the paper.” He waved the paper at you, before putting his pen down on it and picking up his fork, not bothering with the knife as he tore off an extra piece of the pancake, syrup dripping from it as he lifted it to his mouth, a drip falling down his chin. “She always does the crossword before I can get there, and she messes it up by putting the wrong words in and quitting halfway through. Not today, though.”

“Close your mouth, you’re so gross!”

He made an extra loud smacking sound as he ate, leaning in as he chewed with his mouth open, and you cringed, laughing as you leaned away, the hot breath with a sickly-sweet undertone washing over your face. The plate before you was piled with three pancakes of your own, a bottle of syrup being passed over to you, and you turned to Fry, flashing him a grin and a nod in thanks, before picking the bottle up. Raising your hand, you pushed Newt away from you, laughing a little. 

The main door scraped loudly, your attention directed over to it, and the lieutenant you had already managed to get on the wrong side of was already staring at you both. His brows were furrowed, jaw tense, and eyes cold, and despite it all, you tried to offer him a polite nod, one which he simply ignored as he tore his eyes away from the pair of you, and watched you leave the room. He wandered away, taking a seat at the table with the rest of the crew, and you were happy to simply ignore him, knowing that engaging with the issue was only going to make your time here more miserable. 

Turning to your food, you focused your attention back on Newt, who had turned the newspaper around to sit equally between you both, his hand under the edge of your stool to pull you closer to look over it all, and you squeaked a little as you were dragged in his direction. “I need a nine-letter word that’s a synonym for ‘fair’. Starting with ‘I’.”

“I’m no good at crosswords.” You teased, taking a chunk out of your stack and bringing it to your mouth, chewing happily as he gave you a mock glare.

“Well, what fucking good are you as a partner then, huh?” You grinned, knowing he was joking, despite how hard he was trying to keep his face serious, the glint in his eyes and the twitches at the edge of his lips making it hard for you to take him with anything severity. “Fine, what kind of puzzles do you like?”

“I’m a sudoku fan.”

You tapped a finger at the empty blank grid, only a few of the numbers already put in, and he rolled his eyes with a groan. “You’re awful, the absolute worst, actually.”

He shoved at your arm, trying to push your way from him once again, and as he did, your body jerked, the food on your fork dropping down your front and rolling over half of your shirt to come and sit on your pants. You stared at it, the sticky food covered in fibres from your shirt and your pants, your brows furrowing and lips pursing, and when you looked back up to Newt, he was biting down on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“That was an accident. I swear it.”

“Uh-huh.” You picked the sticky chunk up, groaning a little at the golden sauce that had made a stain along the crisp white paramedic’s shirt you were wearing. You let out a sigh, brushing your fingers over it to try and clear the spot, but it only got worse, your skin getting sticky. “I’m going to have to go and change now, when I get back, you better be ready to do the sudoku instead.” 

He snickered under his breath, nodding his head and watching as you got up to leave the room, his eyes lingering on you as he went. 

Another set of eyes were lingering on you, every step you took until you had left the room, and Thomas huffed a little once you were gone, his gaze snapping over to his friend, who still had a small smile on his face, and evacuating his seat to travel towards his best friend, filled with the intentions for a not-so-subtle interrogation and questioning, he crossed the room, taking a seat in the stool you’d evacuated. 

“Well, you two looked awfully cosy.”

Newt looked up at him, raising a questioning brow, a cocky grin on his face, before he took in Thomas’ expression, and his facade fell away as he realised his best friend wasn’t joking. “Not quite my type, in case you haven’t noticed. I prefer my lovers with a little more cock.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Thomas huffed, and Newt ignored him.

“She’s exactly your type, though.” Thomas’ jaw dropped, the idea of such a thing making pure fire burst through him, anger surging in his system just at the idea of you. You irritated him, you made him want to pull his own hair out, and he’d only known you for two weeks, but in those two weeks, you were steadily growing on his nerves. “Paramedic, smart, cute, scalding kind of humour, pretty eyes. Worked for you last time, are you sure all this hatred you have for her isn’t just sexual tension?”

Thomas squirmed in his seat, and Newt waited for the laugh, for any kind of reaction, before sighing again. Thomas didn’t look up, instead, he busied himself with playing at the hem of his shirt, swallowing thickly as memories of the last paramedic the house had carried came flashing through his mind. 

“Okay, look, I’m sorry for bringing up Teresa.” Thomas finally glanced up, seeing that his friend really as sorry, and so he gave in, never being able to stay angry at him for too long. “You have to give her a chance, though. She’s sweet, she’s good at her job, and you were the one that kicked things off on the wrong foot, so-”

“I was clearly in a bad mood. She was eavesdropping and then held the things I said in the moment against me. That doesn’t count.”

“Uh, yes, it absolutely does.” Newt’s voice was monotone, and he knew not to argue with him when he got like this, because not once in over two decades of friendship had he ever won a fight when Newt took on that tone. “Listen, you two have been chafing at the bit to scream at each other once again, but I’m impartial here, an-” His face lit up, turning back to the paper in his hands, and he let out a loud cheer, writing the word ‘impartial’ down into the box, the final piece to complete his crossword puzzle, and that did earn a chuckle from Thomas. “What was I saying?”

“Nothing important.”

“Hey! Everything I say is important.” Newt grouched, flicking the pen at him, and as the main doors, scraped back open, all eyes darted up to you for just a second. 

Thomas was sitting in your seat, a steely look on his face as Newt sat beside him, folding the paper over to face the side with the sudokus on, and before you had a chance to think about how to approach the pair, you were being saved by the bell. The loud blaring of your signal call was sounding out, and everyone went quiet, waiting to see who was called from the slightly crackling speakers. 

Thomas and his team moved first, squad being called tot he scene, and before even hearing for medical assistance, you knew you’d be going along too. Newt fell from his chair, following after the crowds as they went, Brenda still with a piece of toast clamped between her teeth, breakfast being abandoned as the first call for whats was clearly going to be a long day coming in, and you followed after newt, a slight jog to your movements as you made your way to the van. 

Hoping up into the passenger side, your vehicle was the first to go, the trucks following only moments later when the gear had been grabbed and regular shoes swapped out for heavy-weight boots, neat rows of shoes matching up as the garage was emptied. Instructions were already flashing up on the dashboard, loud and clear, your fingers fumbling for the siren as the busy roads of rush hour traffic, mother's on their way for the school-run and office workers desperate to get in on time blocking the streets, and the loud wiling overhead took over. 

Smoke was visible from four blocks away, a mid-rise building of apartments curling up in flames, the acrid black clouds billowing up into the air, and Newt severed a little as he came crashing up onto the pavement. Police had already arrived, a perimeter being set u by offices and volunteers as groups gathered around, the pressure once again falling on you as your team took the spotlight. The public could be fickle, it was a problem you were familiar with, having seen so many good firemen, paramedics, doctors and all workers of the good fall, one bad story and a career would be ruined, and you could only wish that would never be you. 

Climbing between the seats and into the back of the vehicle, Newt rounded it, unlocking the doors from the back as you began to search for the equipment, still a little unfamiliar with the layout he held, half a month not giving you much time to adjust to everything inside. With a pack slung over your shoulder, blue flashing and the deeper honking of the horns on the fire trucks signalled their arrival, and you watched as each team disembarked from the vehicles. 

Swinging your pack up onto your shoulder, you chucked newt his own, hopping down from the truck and shouldering your way past civilians to reach the firemen of your house, Newt following, until you could find where they were all pulling on their masks, sitting atop their heads and ready to be pulled down, helmets in their hands as they waited for their instructions. 

Thomas was staring up at the flames, lips parted a little as he licked at them to keep them wet, the orange glow casting flickered across his face, and you could practically see the cogs whirring in his mind. 

“Okay, truck on the lower floors, search and rescue operations get everybody out to Newt, we’re not working on putting anything out until every soul in the building is clear.” 

Gally nodded, helmet on the top of his head as he adjusted his gloves, ensuring every patch of skin was covered, and despite the bickering that went on in house, the jokes and petty rivalries that ever lasted, it all seemed forgotten in the field. There was no denying that Thomas was a natural-born leader, he was undeniably the right choice, and everybody else seemed to know it too, because the pecking order became apparent when lives were at stake. 

“Brenda, I need you on equipment. I want the ladder up to the fifth floor. I’ll be sending people from the higher floors down to truck team, so be ready for that. I need you quick, because I’ll be climbing as you position it.” Thomas turned, glancing up at the building for his entry point. “There, north-face window. Already broken. That’s where I’m going in, Minho, you’re with me. Once we’re in, pull the ladder back, we’ll sweep the floors and come down.”

“Where do you want me after that?”

“Hoses, high as you can get them, truck can take them inside and we can start from the bottom, and work up, make it safe to get people out. We all clear?”

A symphony of mumbled agreements rose up, the team snapping into action, and you and Newt moved back to the truck, setting yourselves up for the task ahead. The loud whirring of the crane ladder set off, Brenda at the controls as she stared up at the building, and you stood in slight awe as you watched her work. 

This was your first call in which the squad engine equipment had really been used, your last house not having been big enough to have one, and this was your first time seeing the ladder unfold with your own eyes. Thomas was standing on the top of his truck, masking down and helmet on, staring up at the building as he waited for the ladder to move, and before it had even begun extending it’s second set, he was moving. 

Crawling up at the steep angle, it was barely a climb as it still began to raise, placing unwavering faith in his teammate as he went, moving toward the end of the ladder, the second set unfolding, and as he crawled onto it, he paused, letting it drag him closer to the building as it extended, before he was getting closer once again. His body was ducked down, the closer he drew to the broken window, the thicker the smoke got, the flames roaring out into the air, and he disappeared from sight as he slipped into the burning building. 

Minho was next, already moving up the ladder in chase of his commander, and when he disappeared inside too, your eyes snapped away. The splintering of wood, Gally kicking the locks open on the front of the building as the doorframe began to give way, the doors too hot to try and push with hands, and next up was the truck team. In the truck team went, the ladder retracting from the moment Minho had vacated the rungs, and Brenda was pulling it back down to the roof of the vehicle. 

Clint and Winston were unrolling the hoses from the truck vehicle, Chuck was screwing them into the hydrants dotted along the street, and then more of your team was running into the building. More of the team. You closed your eyes, dragging your gaze away from the building and reminding yourself not to get too attached to them all, because you weren’t even sure if at this rate you were going to make it sixth months here, never mind an entire year, or your career. With every house you moved to, it made it seem more and more likely that you just weren’t going to find your home.

Newt nudged his elbow into your arm, snapping you front he wallowing thoughts you were having to be able to look up, and the first two firemen were leaving the building, guiding a group out from the first floor, people who had been stuck there and were covered in soot and dust, eyes bloodshot and trembling violently in the shock. You took a deep breath, clearing your mind of everything that didn’t matter in this moment to be able to focus on what did, and as your thoughts cleared, you received the first person. 

Sorting the group into most needing of assistance to least, you started with the older members of the group as Newt worked with the kids, a packet of Disney-themed band-aids out to be used as he started to patch up cuts and clean the grazes, fingers wiping tears from little cheeks as he kept a bright smile, and you admired him. 

You didn’t know who the person who came before you was, and you weren’t too sure what happened to Newt or what made her leave, but you weren’t sure why she’d ever want to. If she’d been accepted by the people here, if she’d become a part of this family, you had no idea why she’d ever throw that away.

In the few weeks you’d been here, you’d already noticed that they were not only a team, but they were all connected. Every bond was special, even when they bickered and fought it was out of love, every teasing jab being made with affectionate undertones and bitten-back smiles, and you envied the way they never had to worry about someone having their back, about fitting in or not being accepted, because they had a home with one another. 

Volunteers of people on the street were volunteering to help, offering phones to the people who needed to call their families. Those who lived nearby had found blankets, bottles of water and supplies that they had brought over, the neighbourhood coming together to help one another in a crisis. Friends and family who had heard what happened, receiving desperate calls or watching the news had arrived, searching for their family members, and as you found a contact for every person coming out of the building, you made them fill out forms before being taken to the hospital. 

The squeaking of the hoses made you realise that the flames were slowly dying out, the smoke getting thicker and heavier as it was dampened, but the glass was no longer smashing and there was no more snapping of the building’s foundations to be heard. The lower floors were put out, the temperature in the air surrounding you beginning to drop down as it started to cool, the blazing inferno the building had once been was now being contained, and Gally emerged, from the doorway, large frame filling the entrance as she walked, an older lady carried in his arms as she trembled, and you moved to pull out the stretcher for her, knowing that she’d be needing to go to the hospital. 

She looked to be in her late eighties, possibly even early nineties, and as she was placed down, you smoothed her hair back, trying to offer her a soothing smile as you lifted an oxygen mask over her face. 

“I’m (Y/N), I’m going to get you all sorted out, and then we’ll take you to the hospital, okay?” 

She only nodded her head weakly, and you snatched up another form to begin filling out for her, the crowds beginning to dissipate slightly at the excitement and shock of it died down, situation being handled, and as less eyes were on you, watching you work, you felt like you could breathe a little better once again.

“Can you tell me what your name is?”

She nodded, a hand coming up to lift the mask off gently, and she coughed a little, fresh air not being as helpful to her as the pure oxygen had been, gasping slightly as she caught her breath. Her jaw dropped, lips moving to form a word, but no sound came out, and her brows furrowed slightly as she did. “Where am I?”

“You’re outside the apartment building, ma’am. There was a fire, but you're fine, it’s all just a  little disorientating.”

Just as you said those words, a loud explosion took off behind you, a rush of glass, dust and smoke racing over everyone, your eyes screwing shut tightly against the blast, and the firemen on the floor rallied once again, a gas main having burst that hadn't been turned off, and Brenda pulled on her own mask and helmet, following Gally back into the building as the flames took up again. 

She was startled, the elderly woman looking around frantically in her panic, and you took her hand, trying to calm her down, worried she may actually worry herself into a panic attack. “It’s okay, the team has it all under control, okay? They’re the very best at their jobs, you’re safe, alright?”

“Where’s that young girl gone?”

“Which young girl, ma’am?” Your brows furrowed, worry seeping into you once again, and before she could answer, there was a name being called out, louder and louder as it neared you both, before a woman who couldn't be any older than thirty appeared, looking completely and utterly frazzled, taking the older woman’s hand from yours. “Are you related to the patient?”

“This is my grandmother.”

“Great, okay, can you fill out a form for me while I do a check over?” You passed her the pen and the paper as she agreed, and she got to work on filling it out, letting you do your job as you lifted the ramp on the back of the ambulance down, unhooking it and securing it to the floor. Carefully as you worked, you secured her down, helping her to lay back in the pillows as you strapped her in, before rolling the trolley up and into the back. Fastening it down tightly, you set about, lifting a pressure cuff from the shelf and placing it along her arm, the beeping on the machine starting steadily as her granddaughter sat along the cushioned seats, still scribbling on the paper. “Ma’am, you said there was someone else with you, can you tell me who?”

“The young girl with the red curls.”

“Where was she?” You questioned, moving her from a portable oxygen tank to the one equipped with the truck, a steadier source of air that she wouldn't have to hold onto. 

“In my apartment. She was right there with me, a-”

“No, nana, nobody else was there.” You turned to look at the auburn-haired woman behind you, raising a questioning brow as she looked at you. “She has dementia, she’s thinking of me. My hair was more of a fiery colour when I was young, and very curly. She’s just confused.”

“No! No, there was a young girl with red hair!”

You nodded, stepping away from the pair for just a moment before reaching the front of the ambulance, wiring it to the right frequency and lifting it from its holder. “Any member of the team, this is the ambo’, is there anyone left inside now?”

“All upper floors are clear, truck is out, we’re working down on a final sweep now.” Thomas’ voice was filled with static as it came over the airwaves, and you gave a small nod to the woman. 

“See, nana? There’s nobody left in there.”

You moved back over, watching as the report you’d found had the exact opposite effect, the woman only seeming to become more on edge and upset, trying to sit up in the stretcher as she took the mask off completely. She coughed, violently at the sudden actions, and as both you and her granddaughter moved to try and lay her back down gently, she pushed your hands away, fighting to get free. 

“She’s in there! I know she is! The girl with the red hair!”

She was on the verge of a panic attack now, and you helped her put the mask back on, her relative taking over with breathing exercises, and the gnawing in your gut just wouldn’t go away. “Which floor does she live on? Which apartment?”

“She lives on the third floor, apartment fifteen.”

You hopped out of the truck, shielding your eyes with one hand as you stared up at the flaming wreckage of the building, asking Newt take over for you, before you were rounding the vehicle to the front once again. “Team, this is the ambo’ again, are you absolutely certain? Floor three, apartment fifteen, I have an elderly woman insisting that someone is inside.”

“I’m on the third floor now, I’m checking.” He left the mic open on his shoulder, just so ensure that you could hear everything that was going on, to reassure the panicking elderly woman you had hyperventilating in the back of the truck. His voice called out, signalling that it was the fire department and asking whether there was anyone left, telling you as he moved, asking four times, and silence coming back with each and every one. “There’s nobody here, I’ve checked, there’s no call out, and the smoke is getting thicker. It’s all clear, okay?”

“All clear, got it.” You clicked the radio off, turning to look at her, and there was a frazzled look in her eyes, shaking her head as she mumbled to herself. 

You’d seen it before, working in medicine did that to you, but it was still shocking every time you witnessed it, watching the fog suddenly clear, even if only for moments, watching the dazed kind of confusion clear on a persons face into something more determined and confident, as though a whole new spirit had taken over the body and mind. “No, it's not.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My nurse, she went to the kitchen, she was getting my medications. Our rota changed a month ago, she comes on Sunday’s instead of Saturday’s now. She’s trapped under the rubble, the roof fell through.” Her words were spoken clearly, no trace of her being lost or under the influence of her past, but instead, for just a few seconds, she was completely present in the moment. 

Hopping down out of the truck, you grabbed at your tatty rucksack, the medkit inside fresh, the good luck charm you carried everywhere, only slung over one shoulder as you made it to the door, Thomas’ figure emerging from inside as he stripped his helmet and mask from over his head. 

“There is someone still inside!”

He turned to look at you, raising a brow, a scowl on his lips. “I cleared the room, I called out, there’s nobody in there. I know how to do my damn job, alright?”

“No, she wouldn’t have replied. The woman’s mind cleared, just for a second, but her nurse is trapped under debris where the roof collapsed in.” He paused for a second, brows furrowing as he tried to process your words, before shaking his head, an incredulous laugh on his lips. 

“You’re taking the word of a woman with dementia?” You nodded, string up at him expectantly. “How do you know she isn’t still confused? Huh?”

You stared at him for a second longer, heart racing in your chest as you thought about the woman who was still trapped inside, before shaking your head at him. “Because I’m a paramedic, Thomas, and I know when her mind clears. I know how to do my job.”

You didn’t give him a chance to retort, shoulder past him and slinging an arm over your face, eyes stinging from the second that you were carried into the building, feet pounding against the floor. Only ten steps in, and the temperature was so hot sweat was lining your brows, your throat was stinging despite the arm you were breathing against, smoke seeping in to burn at your lungs, and tears were lining your eyes as you tried to see where to go. The lobby was glowing a dull orange, but the flames were burning bright, and you winced a little further.

Stairs just ahead of you, still standing string, and you headed straight for them. You almost put your hand down on the railing, flinching at the metal that was almost glowing from the heat it was under, and you snatched it back, skin singed a little just from hovering over it, and you regretted your decision only a little, fear crawling in at the back of your mind to combat the adrenaline, and you quashed it down. 

Only three floors, six sets of stairs, and you were there, fighting your way through a corridor you could barely see, squinting to find the numbers on the door. You were certain you’d found apartment fifteen, sure enough that you’d bet your life on it, and you were, because if you had the wrong one, you certainly didn’t have time to keep looking. 

The room was destroyed, flames crawling up the walls, and the tears in your eyes were now leaking down your cheeks, the air becoming too thick to breathe, and you were running on limited time. You let out a little sigh of relief as you spotted the pile of rubble, assessing it carefully, and catching sight of a hand that wouldn’t be able unless you were looking for such a sign in the right place, dropping to your knees beside it. Your fingertips burned as you touched the hot mess of stone and drywall, pulling it away, your nails ripping with each catch on jagged rocks, and you hissed a little under your breath. You could see her, leaning in close enough to press your fingers to her neck, and you let out something between a relieved laugh and a sigh as you felt a pulse under her skin, albeit incredibly weak. 

A hand landed on your shoulder, pulling you back, before a mask was being dropped down onto you, an oxygen tank beside it. You snatched it up, barley bothering to adjust it before you were pulling it on, taking deep and gasping breaths of the fresh oxygen, the pounding in your head making you squeeze your eyes shut, the rush of fresh O2 in your blood making your head spin and ache for a moment a sit rushed to your brain once again.

Her face was revealed, the fireman beside you having better luck with the debris, gloves making it a burn and pain-free experience, and when there was enough cleared, hands hooked under the woman’s arms, pulling the rest of her body free. Dropping your rucksack, you tore it open, zip running rapidly along its track and you searched for the cloths, a water bottle following it, and you soaked the rag, ringing it out quickly, before laying it over her face. Lifting her up and into his arms, the man waited only a second for you to bundle the oxygen tank and medkit into your arms, following behind him as he began to guide you back out of the building. 

The floors were creaking and giving way, shaking under your feet as you ran after him, down stairs that were beginning to grow weak, the metal bannisters now a bright orange and you flinched away from them, hissing slightly as your jacket brushed against them, zip getting hot just from the brief touch and burning across your hand. 

Hoses at the main entrance, spraying down everything they could reach without entering the collapsing residence once again, and as you stumbled out into the light once again, Newt was already waiting with the stretcher to receive her. She was placed down, dark red curls on her head that had fallen out, blood spilling from a cut along her head and she was matted with dust that almost made her unrecognisable, but she was wearing a distinctive nurses uniform, and pride welled up within you form the second her heart beat on the monitor, Newt fixing a cuff on her arm, before wheeling her to the ambulance again.  

Following after him, you noted that the elderly woman had moved to sitting beside her granddaughter, clearing the stretcher for the nurse, and before you could board the vehicle or help Newt load the stretcher, a large hand was wrapping around your upper arm, jerking you roughly and spinning you to face the one who’s grabbed you. 

Helmet dropping to the floor and mask torn off over his head, you were met with a face that he'd more rage than you’d ever seen him have for you before. His nostrils flared, jaw clenched so tight you worried his teeth would shatter, and his eyes were dark with the kind of anger that genuinely scared you. 

“Are you fucking insane?” You took your own mask off, everything under your arm dropping to the floor, the tank clanging loudly as it hit the pavement, but you didn’t even flinch, staring right back at him. “You are reckless, that was so stupid, you have no concern for the other lives you just put at risk!”

“We just saved a life!”

“And what if we hadn't, huh? What if you ran in there, and I had to follow you, and two people died, instead?” He made a valid point, but he was failing to see the fact that you’d save a person’s life, someone who must’ve fallen unconscious from smoke inhalation, trapped under rubble and thinking they were going to die, and they were saved. “You have no regard for the rest of the damn team, yo-”

“You just saved a life, Thomas.” His jaw snapped shut, confusion stitched into the anger on his face as he stared at you, head tipping to the side just a little, gaze never leaving yours as he continued to tower over you, shadowing you from the building, shoulders rising and falling quickly as his chest heaved for breath, adrenaline stile acing through him. “She thought she’d been left behind, and that she’d die. You just saved her. She gets to live because of you.”

He was breathless, everything seeming to halt for a long second, before he was taking in a shaky breath, letting it go as a long sigh, and his shoulders slumped a little as he did his best to quell his rage. Your heart was racing in your chest, and his head ducked down, for a moment, maybe two, before he was looking back up. 

“Maybe you should think about that the next time you want to act like a dick, for no reason.”

You heard a sigh behind you, knowing Newt had been waiting with bated breath for the calling of a truce between you both, but you didn’t back down easy, you didn’t cave just because a big and tall man got angry, and Thomas looked angry once again. “It was selfish. Even if you don’t care about the rest of us, you almost killed yourself.”

“I thought this was a team, if me taking a risk is such a burden to you, don’t follow me next time.”

Shoving the mask into his chest, he barely had time to grab it, before you swiping down to scoop up your bag, and turning your back on him to meet Newt. He gave you a look, shaking his head slightly, and you could read it perfectly, knowing that it had been the perfect chance to try and patch things up with Thomas, but you didn’t regret your actions because the woman who was still unconscious with a steadily rising heartbeat beside you was alive thanks to you, and so as he took a seat in the front and started up the vehicle for the hospital, you took over caring for her, and pushed it all away. 

Maybe it had been selfish, and maybe everyone else would see it the same way Thomas did, but it was clear this wasn’t going to be your permanent home anyway, and so it made it a little harder to choke back the anxiety as you realised you wouldn't have to deal with it for much longer anyway. As soon as a new transfer came up, you’d be recommended for it, you were sure.

It was silent for a long time, all the way to the hospital, the tension in the vehicle thick as you knew Newt was mad at you, the radio having been suspiciously quiet, and on the return from calls, it was normally buzzing between all trucks and vans with chatter and congratulations, but you had no doubt that due to your actions, it had gone silent. 

You checked in the elderly woman, who’s mind had slipped away from you once again, and the nurse, who was in and out of surfacing, the doctors taking over as the two of you were left alone, and Newt wandered away toward the vending machines. You made you way back to the truck, the pains and aches of the day beginning to set in, and you realised he’d taken the keys with him, leaving you to lean against it. Placing your bag on the hood, you pulled out a disinfectant wipe, using your teeth to tear it open, wiping the blood from torn nails and wincing a little at the skin, before trying to wipe your face and arms down too. 

You had acquired a lot more subtle grazes and burns than you’d realised, but each spit flared up in pain when the wipes moved over them, making sure you wouldn’t get an infection, and it was as you were applying burn cream in the reflection of the window that Newt finally approached you again. 

Turning to face him, his lips were set in a thin line, and you frowned, knowing just how much you had disappointed him, but still trying to be strong, swallowing thickly on a dry throat and putting the cream away, zipping up your pack and barging it onto your shoulder, turning to face him for the verbal beat down. 

“You scared the hell out of me, y’know.” You sighed, arms wrapping around yourself a little, because when someone was shouting at you, you could hand that, but the puppy-dog eyes he was fixing you with now and the wounded tone of his voice was a crippling attack. “Didn’t expect to see my partner running into a burning building alone.”

“There was someone in there and I know you’re mad at me, bu-”

“I think you did the right thing.” It was your turn to be speechless, caught off-guard by him agreeing with you, and he chuckled a little at the startled look on your face. “I agree with you, alright? It’s just terrifying. I know Thomas isn’t easy to get along with, you shoulda’ seen the rivalry he and Gally had for years, but forgive him for getting mad, alright? He’s got a big heart, but he’s been hurt a lot, and he locks it up pretty tight. He cares about his team.”

“I don’t think that curtesy extends as far as me.”

“Just give him a chance, he’ll come around.” Newt offered you a water bottle, and a candy bar, both from the vending machine in the hospital halls, and you unscrewed the lid, his eyes on you in a scrutinising manner as he watched you take a sip instead of replying, and you didn’t like that look, somehow feeling like he was staring right into your soul. “You’re going to transfer out again, aren’t you?”

“We both know I don’t fit in here, Newt.”

“Bullshit!” You now knew what real anger looked like on your blonde colleagues face, the look flashing over his features as fast as lightning, and you tore your gaze away, busying yourself with your drink. 

“Another transfer will come up in a few weeks, and we both know that Thomas won’t hesitate to sign the forms to get me gone.”

“One year.” You frowned, turning to look at him, your face painted with puzzlement, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You want the harsh truth?”

“Not rea-”

“You skip between houses without ever giving them a chance. Maybe some bad shit happened, maybe you just don’t fit in, but you’re not trying hard enough. Plant some roots, because I happen to think that if you just give us a chance, you’ll be a perfect fit for us.” You huffed out, lips rolling as you contained what you wanted to say, not used to someone speaking to you with such a crass attitude. “Give it a year, stick around here for a year, and if you still don’t think you belong here, then I’ll write you a personal letter of recommendation myself, and I’ll get both Thomas and Gally to sign it.”

“I’ve been at other houses longer than that and still not found my home, Newt.”

“You’ve never found us before.” Silence took over between you both, and he licked at his lower lip, glancing away from you for a second, eyes flickering over the car park, before looking back. “I like you, I think we make good partners, I want you to stick around. I think you should give us a go, even if it is awkward for a while. Just brave it through, for once. I think you’re running away from houses and refusing to settle because you’re scared, not because you can’t.”

Your breathing hitched in your throat, and you sighed, shaking your head at him, words coming out as a whisper; “That was mean.”

“Yeah, well, it was the truth and you needed or hear it. What are friends for?”

You glanced up, fiddling a little with the snack you held, the plastic crinkling, anything to break the tense silence “You’re my friend, then?”

“Of course, I am.” He cracked a grin at this, nodding his head, and stepping in close enough to nudge you, with a roll of his eyes. “Now, get in the truck, eat your cereal bar, and think about what I said. We have the team to get back to.”

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.  

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed.  “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

#

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.  

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?  

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

#

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs.  But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”  

#

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.  

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”